#and my paycheck every week varied so much

[two-calicos-in-a-trenchcoat]

On one hand im glad I dont start work until Tuesday cuz it gives me one more day to mentally prepare

But on the other hand the anticipation anxiety is killing me. I can't stop grinding my teeth. I keep having to resist the urge to bite my hands. I cant focus on anything for more than a few minutes

Ik ill calm down once it starts and I see the environment ill be working in and start training and everything. And I know HOW my routine is gonna change as far as when im gonna have to get up and when ill get to come home. But its still a change.

A very large change cuz im gonna have to get up at 6am which is not a time ive ever purposely woken up except for one time for choir in 8th grade and the next time I was supposed to I purposely lied and said we weren't gonna have a spring concert so I wouldn't have to go to it

I just keep reminding myself that I need money so I can get a dog. Having money to live is not enough motivation for me. A dog is tho. That is the goal. I want a puppy. I am going to get a puppy. But I have to do this so I can get money to get a puppy. Im just gonna repeat that to myself every time I start feeling anxious.

[j3tlagg3d]

LMAO I WAS READING THE TAGS ON THE HEALTHY FOOD POST AND TWINSIES 🤝 ate like shit because of McDonald's work and learnt the hard way to treat myself better.

I still got food at work but I vary it way more and I tend to work mornings more now so it's not as bad.

mcdonalds nowadays honestly just makes my blood feel thick with grease and cholesterol or whatever the fuck. i feel Yucky eating it my body just hates it (granted i dont buy it now anyway so it doesnt matter as much) but wow. idk i cook all of my meals now. each paycheck i go and buy meat and rice and vegetables for the next week or so and go off of that. my stomach issues have gotten so bad over time so i know if i was frequently eating fast food or frozen stuff id be having The worst time ever. ive lost weight this way and im at a pretty consistent one at this point & the only time my stomach is mad at me is when i go against its wishes of no dairy no wheat no egg (every food in existence)

[ebitchwriting]

Resident Evil: Apocalypse Movie Review

So, finally kicking procrastination in the balls and actually continuing the movie reviews on a movie series that genuinely was very formative in my youth but now find it more disappointing than anything. Mostly because of how in every single sequel to the W.S. Anderson Resident Evil series seems to depend on retcons in one way or another, varying wildly in quality between each movie. Apocalypse, the second movie in the six, I'm very torn from because there was not only a major retcon in terms of the timeline of the viral outbreak in Raccoon City, butchering of original game characters, but also really interesting concepts that COULD have been amazing but... just falls flat.

Firstly, the retcon. At the end of the first film, Alice is slowly walking down the desolate streets, the city devoid of life, and heavily implied that the viral outbreak had already taken place and killed nearly everyone. Alone she stands, with nothing but a thin hospital gown and a shotgun with no extra shells to spare. This ending was a great setup, suspenseful, filled with tension, anticipation, and dread. Especially with Matt being placed in the Nemesis program, we could have had a wonderful story fusion of Resident Evil 2 and 3 with Alice eventually finding her way to the Police Department, not only for more ammo but hopes of finding survivors. Perhaps she finds one, an idealistic rookie cop who just started his job and now has been surviving on his own for a week, trying to reach someone, anyone for help through a radio. Perhaps she runs into a young girl, scared, alone, and helpless, and now Alice has to protect her from the zombies and infected animals, and the Lickers. You could have Nemesis constantly chasing her, trying to eliminate her, with perhaps a few moments where he struggles and forces himself to run away, leaving a wounded Alice alone. These were all things I hoped to see, and instead, it's reconned in favor of Alice awakening in the climax of the outbreak rather than the aftermath, yet all the tension of it being the climax is nonexistent. No value is truly given to any of the people who lost their lives. It might be just because as a kid I've always preferred the zombie films where it takes place in the aftermath rather than the climax, but the retcon of the timeline and its narrative and character handling was a major flop.

Secondly, the introduction and subsequent butchering of many video game characters into the films. The only one I actually liked the handling of was Carlos, as they not only captured how much of a fun-loving, flirtatious, genuine guy he is but also how seriously he takes his mission and truly believes he's there to help people, not clean up after Umbrella's mess. Jill, the Ashfords, and Nicholai were all massive failures of their characters. Jill in the games was not just a badass with great intuition and perseverance, but a strong sense of compassion and comradery, and so willing to help everyone she was able to. Meanwhile, the movie version just feels like a cheap distilled version that purely focused on her badassery, making her feel like a 2-dimensional character rather than a 3-dimensional character. Plus, where's the rest of S.T.A.R.S.? Where's Chris? Barry? You can't just cherry-pick one and ignore the existence of everyone else on the team. Then, Nicholai, the bastard that constantly antagonizes Jill and only sees value in data, money, and what serves him and him alone. The world collapsing? A life-saving vaccine that the world will inevitably need when containment breaks out? Who cares, it doesn't give him a big enough paycheck in the end. Yet in the film, he's so two-dimensional and forgettable that it isn't even worth getting into what little he does before he's killed by an infected dog. This seems so pointless since it seems they shifted his role in the game off to Major Cain. At that point, why bring Nicholai in the first place? For shits and giggles? Pointless added death to the survivors to show how bad the outbreak is? Regardless, it's just a disappointment.

The Ashfords, both the Doctor and Angie, are interesting yet disappointing. It's something that completely differs from what takes place in the games, by a fucking mile, yet the concept of a father inventing a virus to help his daughter live a life without struggle which inevitably the virus gets stolen and abused by a cold, heartless corporation IS something I think could have worked and almost did work, yet still falls flat in the overall poor writing and handling of the film in general. And honestly, I also wouldn't be so ticked had they not slapped the Ashord name on there for sake of having an easter egg from the game, and instead just made this concept and these characters truly their own, like with Alice, Rain, and Matt.

Another concept that I was truly, truly, looking forward to the most was Matt, aka Nemesis, and how they would handle it in the movie. In the game, Nemesis really had no backstory, just a B.O.W. that was programmed with killing all S.T.A.R.S. members and anyone that could potentially ruin Umbrella's reputation. By creating Matt, the movies gave this memorable monster a wonderful and depressing backstory of having everyone he loves destroyed by Umbrella, then experimented on and enslaved by them. Forced to kill innocents just trying to escape, and the one person he has the closest ties to now, Alice. This could have been wonderful, filled with angst and grief, but unfortunately, the piss poor writing of the film just makes all of this feel so flat and wasted. We get a little hint of what could be when Nemesis remembers he's Matt, his experiences in the Hive, his sister, and Alice, and chooses to ensure she and the rest of the survivors escape Raccoon City. He sacrifices his life because he knows despite he's still breathing, his life ended in the Hive. He's suffering and wants it to end, and there is no chance he would be able to have a life outside of Umbrella, and would rather take his final breath knowing Alice and the others got out safe, and that Cain is dead.

The ending with Alice as we know it being dead, and now following her clone, as well as her being a good bond for the T-Virus WAS a very interesting concept at the time of it's release(though little did I know it was foreshadowing for a major downfall of this movie series). However, Jill, Carlos, and Angie magically showing up to save Alice without a fuss from Umbrella, completely unexplained not only here but in the future sequals really tick me off. But that little rant will have to be saved for the review for Extinction as this is already long enough.

In conclusion, had W.S. Anderson decided to a) keep the movie universe and game universe completely separated and kept only original characters, or limited himself to just one or two game characters; b) not retconned the timeline established in the first film; and c) not focused to much on action and focused more on suspense and horror like in the first film, this truly could have been a slam dunk. 3/10 STAAARS purely for the few concepts that were intriguing and carried the film.

[rapfinancial]

Everything You Need to Know About NJ Payroll Taxes

You’ve just started your own company in New Jersey, and you’re ready to hire employees. You know you need to withhold taxes from your employees’ paychecks, but what else do you need to know about NJ payroll taxes? Don’t worry – we’ve got all the information you need right here. Keep reading to learn how to complete your New Jersey payroll tax forms, how much the New Jersey unemployment tax will cost you, and more.

What Does It Mean To Be Exempt From Paying NJ Payroll Taxes?

If you are an employee who works in New Jersey, you are required to pay state payroll taxes. However, there are certain circumstances where you may be exempt from paying these taxes. For example, if you are a new hire or if you work for a nonprofit organization, you may not have to pay any payroll taxes. Additionally, if you earn less than a certain amount of money per year, you may also be exempt from paying these taxes. There are a few other situations where you may be exempt from paying NJ payroll taxes, so it’s important to check with your employer or the state tax agency to see if you qualify.

How You May Be Exempt From Paying New Jersey Unemployment Taxes

You may be exempt from paying New Jersey unemployment taxes if you are:1. An out-of-state employer with no in-state employees2. A governmental entity3. A nonprofit organization that has been granted tax-exempt status by the IRS4. An employer who pays wages for services performed entirely outside of New Jersey5. An employer who is required to pay federal unemployment taxes but not state unemployment taxes6. An employer who is subject to another state’s unemployment taxes, and does not have any employees working within New Jersey, and does not pay wages for work done inside or outside of New Jersey, or an employer who was subject to another state’s unemployment taxes, moved its operations into New Jersey and continues to remain subject to that other state’s unemployment taxes7. A railroad company8. An employee earning less than $10 per week 9. An employee whose sole source of income is a retirement annuity9. An individual who performs agricultural labor and (a) during the preceding calendar year worked at least 120 days as a hand harvest laborer; (b) earns not more than 10% of his total gross earnings from hand harvest labor; and (c) earns at least $150 per week.10. An individual engaged in commercial fishing as defined by Section 1444(h)(1)(A) of Title 16 of the United States Code.

What Are The Unemployment Tax Rates In New Jersey?

As of 2019, the unemployment tax rate in New Jersey is 0.38%. This rate is applied to the first $33,700 in wages paid to each employee during the year. Employers are also responsible for paying a federal unemployment tax of 6.0%. If your business operates in more than one state, you may be subject to both state and federal unemployment taxes. The rates will vary depending on which states your employees work in and where their homes reside.

How Do I Calculate My NJ Unemployment Tax Rate?

Your New Jersey unemployment tax rate is determined by the Department of Labor and Workforce Development. To calculate your rate, you’ll need to first determine your total taxable wages for the year. This is the total amount of money you’ve paid your employees during the year, minus any payroll deductions they’ve made. Once you have your total taxable wages, you’ll divide that number by your company’s average annual payroll. This will give you your tax rate, which you can then use to calculate your taxes owed.

What About Out-Of-State Workers?

If you work in New Jersey but live in another state, you may be wondering if you have to pay taxes to Garden State. The answer is yes and no. If you live in Pennsylvania, Delaware, or New York, you are exempt from paying New Jersey income tax on your wages. However, if you live in any other state, you will have to pay both state and federal taxes on your earnings. That means you would be double-taxed on every dollar earned. For this reason, out-of-state workers should find a job that doesn’t require them to spend too much time here. Workers who commute into New Jersey should take advantage of the commuter tax exclusion law. The law allows an employee to exclude up to $65 per day of commuting expenses (gas, parking fees, tolls) as well as up to $15 per day for meals eaten while commuting.

Does My Company Need To Pay Unemployment Insurance For Me?

As an employer, you are required to pay unemployment insurance (UI) taxes on behalf of your employees. UI taxes help fund the state’s unemployment compensation program, which provides temporary financial assistance to eligible workers who have lost their jobs. For a company to become liable for paying UI taxes, it must be the one employing the worker and paying their wages. The company must also be registered with the Department of Labor and Workforce Development as an employer in New Jersey. If your company is registered as an employer in New Jersey, it is responsible for paying unemployment insurance if one or more employees work at least 18 hours per week.

Can I Get Some Advice On How To Report My Time Correctly As An Employee?

As an employee, you must understand how payroll taxes work. After all, these taxes are deducted from your paycheck each week. Here’s what you need to know about payroll taxes in New Jersey The state and federal governments collect a variety of taxes on the wages earned by employees. These include social security tax, Medicare tax, unemployment insurance tax (state and federal), and personal income tax (state and federal). The company is responsible for withholding these amounts from your wages and paying them to the appropriate agencies.

The amount of the wage subject to payroll taxes varies depending on your taxable wage base for each type of payroll tax.

How Can I Check If I Have Met The Minimum Employment Requirements In New Jersey?

If you’re thinking of starting a business in New Jersey, you’ll need to make sure you meet the minimum employment requirements. Here’s what you need to know about becoming an employer in New Jersey:-To become an employer in New Jersey, your company must employ at least one person who is a U.S. citizen or legal resident of the United States. If you have more than one employee, they can be of any nationality as long as they are 18 years old and over.-Your employees can work full-time, part-time, or temporarily as long as they are considered employed by your company and you pay them wages for their work.-You also need to register with the Department of Labor and Workforce Development if you plan on employing any employees under 18 years old who work 20 hours per week or more.-Once you register, you will receive a certificate that states that your company has met the state’s employment requirements.-This certificate will expire after 12 months, so it is important to keep it safe and updated.-If your certificate expires before being renewed, then all of your current employees will no longer be eligible for unemployment benefits should they ever decide to leave your company.

Where Can I Go If I Still Have More Questions About Calculating And Reporting My Hours As An Employee In New Jersey?

If you’re an employee in New Jersey, you’re responsible for making sure your hours are reported accurately and that your employer withholds the correct amount of taxes from your paycheck. But what exactly are payroll taxes, and how are they calculated? Here’s a quick primer on payroll taxes in New Jersey:

Payroll tax is a tax that employers deduct from their employee’s wages as compensation for employment-related expenses. It includes social security (FICA), Medicare, federal income tax withholding, state income tax withholding (if applicable), unemployment insurance contributions, and local or municipal employment taxes.

The way this is done depends on where you live – some states require employers to use a flat rate calculation while others use a progressive calculation method that may vary by the number of hours worked or an hourly wage bracket.

Contact Us:

Address - One Gateway Center Suite 2600 Newark, NJ 07102

Email - info@rapfinancial.com

Phone - (866)-890-7277

Website - RAP Financial Services

Blog - Everything You Need to Know About NJ Payroll Taxes

[puttingherinhistory]

Makeup not only enhances a woman’s looks, it also increases people’s perceptions of her likability, competence and trustworthiness, according to a new Harvard study. When 149 adults were shown pictures of females wearing varying degrees of makeup, they “judged women made up in varying intensities of luminance contrast (fancy words for how much eyes and lips stand out compared with skin) as more competent than barefaced women, whether they had a quick glance or a longer inspection.”

Wearing makeup has a significant impact on how people perceive women, making women seem more attractive, competent, likable and trustworthy, according to new research published this week.

"We find that attractive individuals earn roughly 20 percent more than people of average attractiveness," the study found, confirming conventional wisdom. But the reduction once they accounted for grooming "suggests that the beauty premium can be actively cultivated." This means that even if you're not conventionally attractive, putting on makeup could mean a higher paycheck than those who don't spend 20 minutes perfecting their cat eye every morning. Sure, this could sound like a good thing at first: Many of us put on makeup anyway, so why not let it help us out? But take a step back: If you ever want to opt out of the cycle and forgo foundation, you'll be judged.

And while the trend held true for guys who upped their grooming habits, the study found that they're judged only partially on their grooming habits. Meanwhile grooming "accounts for the entire attractiveness premium for women." Wonderful.

🤔🤔🤔

Important things to consider when talking about makeup and how much of a "free choice" it really is for women. Remember that story about some college students who did a little experiment and they complimented their teacher more the closer he stood by the door, and they kept doing this until they actually got him standing out in the hallway? And that was all unconscious because the professor was just unconsciously doing what got him more attention and acceptance without realizing it?

This leads to women having to spend more than double the amount of money and time on personal grooming than men of the same pay bracket, which makes it harder for women to catch up financially to men. This also further stratifies inequalities among women across class lines, because if you need makeup to be trusted and liked and paid well as a woman, who's going to have more time and money to invest into always having a full face of makeup?

When I stopped regularly wearing makeup it was downright depressing and a serious blow to my mental health how much less kindness and respect I was getting, especially from strangers. I've considered taking up regularly wearing makeup again just to get more respect and kindness to help with my mental health, but honestly I just dislike wearing makeup and how it feels too much. It's seriously fucked though how many consequences women face, socially and financially, just for not wearing makeup or practicing femininity.

[restwellsoon]

The Prince and His Paper

Summary: Shouto seems more like a prince than a sugar daddy. Like a prince, there's a coolness that keeps him emotionally distant. But money has a way of burning a hole in one's pocket and somehow Shouto's heart gets melted too.  

/  “I mean, duh,” you told your reflection. “Some hot, young rich dude wants to rail me? And pay me for it? Beats having some creepy old dude suck my toes.”

Pairing: Todoroki Shouto x F!Reader

Cw: Sugar daddy AU, implied smut

Shouto logged into his bank account, thinking that he ought to since it’s been a few weeks since he last checked it. He wasn’t surprised by the amount of commas in the total but rather confused as to how he could still have so much money leftover every paycheck with the lavish way he lived on his off days.

Exiting out of the app, he rolled onto his stomach. It would take at least two tumbles for him to reach the other side of his king-sized bed, his first splurge as a pro-hero. Even though the mattress was plush and the sheets made with the highest thread count, he still longed for his old, worn futon from his UA days. After a long day of work, his bed felt far too big and cold.

He didn’t want many things in his life, already content with what he had. He finally became a hero in his own right, finally able to step out of the shadow of his family’s name. His family situation, though still tense, was slowly improving. He was fine with whatever progress they’ve made together, thinking it would even be foolish if they tried to speed up the process of reconciliation. And his friends? Though sometimes they were too busy to hang out outside of work, he was grateful that he could at least see them a few times a month because of work.

Love? It was a complicated thing for Shouto. He was worried he might not even know how to love because of his childhood and parents’ example. He could listen to the love lives of all his single friends yet if he tried to mimic or follow their advice, it wouldn’t feel authentic. But just because Shouto had some apprehension towards dating, it didn’t mean that he wasn’t interested.

---

“You have to have some idea of how you want to meet your perfect person,” Ochako said, waving a piece of barbecued meat that was caught between her chopsticks at Shouto.

It was a rare night where everyone’s schedules aligned, a sign that they should get dinner together and catch up. Midoriya was to her left. Bakugou was to the right of him and Kaminari to the other side of Bakugou. They sat at a circular table, gathered around a yakiniku grill, the occasional crackle and clank of beer glasses breaking through their conversation.

Kaminari, always one to prefer lighter and more casual conversation, egged him on, much to Ochako’s delight.

“C’mon, prince, there has to be some way to win your heart. Us single men won’t have a chance with any of the beautiful women of Musutafu until they know you’re taken!”

Shouto never really thought about how he would find that special someone. With all of the people in the world, he thought his odds were quite slim. He indulged them anyway.

“I suppose it would be a casual encounter.”

Kaminari made a face at this while Bakugou was polite enough to hold in a snicker, elbowing the darker blond. He locked eyes with everyone else at the table, mouthing ‘He doesn’t know’ while holding his composure poorly.

“Maybe I’d be reading a book or a newspaper, drinking coffee in the early morning. I’m not quite sure how the conversation would start but there would just be an instant spark and it would go from there.”

He’d been in similar situations often. The coffee shop he frequented had a newsstand in front of it. While waiting for his order, he took to reading the newspaper, opting to get his news the more traditional way. The people who often came up to him rarely approached him because he was Todoroki Shouto but because he was Pro-Hero Shouto. Their motives varied from his looks to his wealth. Some were simply fans dreaming of their chance to be with their idol. Regardless of their reasons, he wasn’t interested. He didn’t have clear details of what he wanted in a partner but he knew it wasn’t that.

After listening as quietly as he could, Kaminari looked like he was about to burst and Bakugou seemed far too tired from work to control him any longer.

Leaning across the other hero, there was a twinkle in his golden eyes as if he was going to tell Shouto a little-known secret.

“Look, Prince Charming, if it’s sparks that you’re looking for, look no further.” A small burst of electricity shot from his hand for emphasis as he leaned back with a grin.

“But you’re gonna have to go on a few dates before you really know if you’ve found the one. Trust me. This is coming from Musutafu’s second most-eligible bachelor after you, of course.”

Bakugou snorted at the comment. “More like Musutafu’s most unwanted bachelor.”

“If I’m the most, then you must be in a close second, ready to take the title from me, grumpy,” the Stun Gun hero retorted, seemingly nonplussed by his friend’s teasing.

Kaminari became serious once more. “But really, if you want a casual encounter, maybe you should look into getting a sugar baby.”

Naturally, sweet and innocent Midoriya didn’t know what a sugar baby was, looking at the expressions of the others for context clues. Bakugou looked disgusted, his nose scrunched up at the thought, mumbling something about there being better monetary investments.

Ochako had a blush on her face, telling Shouto that if he wanted one, he’d better be prepared because they were expensive. Kaminari asked if that would have been her alternate career choice if she didn’t become a hero, earning a harsh kick from under the table.

And Shouto’s understanding of the word?

“Well, I just don’t think I’m ready to be a father yet. It would also be reckless of me to take on a child without looking up how to properly care for them and their inability to make insulin.”

The blonds and Ochako laughed at Shouto’s misunderstanding.

“No, no, no. That’s not what that- well, shit. Would it be better if I explained it? I could also call Mineta up right now.”

By the looks on everyone’s face, Kaminari knew that was a stupid suggestion.

---

“What you’re looking for is the girlfriend experience,” Kaminari slurred at him, a few too many drinks in his system.

Shouto must have made a face at his comment because the blond added, “The great thing about it is that it has all of the perks of an actual relationship without the stress of being in one.”

The other blond between them didn’t seem sold on the idea, giving Shouto an opinion that he didn’t ask for.

“Look Icy Hot, this whole girlfriend experience? Seems like a waste of time if you ask me. You either commit to a relationship or you don’t. There’s no point in paying a couple of grand for a pretend one.”

Bakugou’s argument was perfectly logical yet as Shouto replayed their conversation in his empty bed, he couldn’t help but feel enticed by Kaminari’s words instead.

---

It was mornings like these that he enjoyed the most, sitting in front of his favorite cafe, a fresh newspaper in his hands as he sipped on his black coffee. He had the next few days off, his phone set to a loud ringer in case his agency desperately needed him, but he knew that they rarely would so early in the day.

As much as Shouto loved to read the news -exposés were his favorite- he found himself turning to an often ignored section- the personal ads. Most of the space was a waste of ink in his opinion, oftentimes just desperate attempts to reach out to some beautiful stranger. But he couldn’t help but scour the page for any mentions of someone looking for companionship with monetary compensation.

**NO STRINGS ATTACHED RELATIONSHIP WANTED BUT IF YOU FALL IN LOVE WITH ME, THAT’S ON YOU. Looking for a mean dom to help with my unresolved discipline issues. Choking OK and ENCOURAGED.

Call me at xxx-xxx-xxxx

Hope to chat soon!

Shouto wasn’t one to judge what got other’s off in the bedroom but to read such a brazen description on a Thursday morning made him flush a bright red.

It was honestly a job that he could have delegated to his assistant but somehow, the thought of having them comb through hundreds of ads -probably of the same type if not worse than that one- to find a person suitable for Shouto made his ears blush. The thought of having a type embarrassed him. Besides, he could only imagine what kind of news it would be if others found out about this. Perhaps it would be his face on the front of the newspaper, some terribly sensational title in bold to draw the reader in.

He set the newspaper down, folding it neatly next to his coffee. The ads wouldn’t do. The Internet would be better.

He paused before hitting the search button, ‘sugar daddy seeking gfe’ staring back at him, daring him to go through with his desire. What if someone hacked his phone? What would everyone think?

While he was deliberating on his best option, his phone decided for him. His agency’s name was in bold letters, begging him to accept the call.

“-headed towards the downtown area? Sure, I’ll be there as fast as I -”

With his phone pressed to his ear, Shouto failed to notice the slight change in his surroundings, coffee cup in hand as the other tucked his newspaper in his back pocket.

“Ugh, wha-”

Shouto turned slightly to see the cause of his delay and the reason why his coffee was on the ground, looking at you splayed out on the cement beside him. His coffee spilled all over a cracked laptop and messenger bag.

You rubbed the dirt off of your front first and checked for any broken skin. Satisfied -maybe a bit disappointed, this was as close as you would realistically get to getting hit by a car and getting paid out for your injuries-, you clutched at a weightless flank, grasping at air for a moment before realizing that your bag was on the floor, wet with something hot and liquid.

You made a noise in-between a screech and a cry, diving back onto the floor to grab it. Lifting the computer up -heavy because it was a couple of years old-, you assessed a large crack on the right corner, coffee leaking from smaller cracks, telling you that it was probably beyond repair. If it was salvageable, it would cost you a couple hundred at least- way more than what it was worth.

Already annoyed because you were running late, you knew that today would be even worse now that your laptop was ruined. You just hoped that your boss wouldn’t fire you.

You looked at the culprit. His loose V-neck was tucked into dark-washed denim. Conveniently, none of his drink got on him. Your eyes moved down to a watch. Bulgari. Expensive.

“You owe me one,” you told him, deciding that he had enough money to compensate you. You pulled a business card out of your bag, tossing it on the table before rushing off to work.

Shouto was still trying to process what happened.

---

Whether it was a complete disregard for Shouto’s hero status or perhaps because of it, you demanded that the heterochromatic hero replace the entirety of your laptop. You made no comment about his profession at all when the two of you exchanged names.

***They don’t make this laptop anymore so you’ll have to replace the entire thing.

He simply replied that he was already planning on it.

You stared back at the screen, surprised that your text actually worked. After an extra semester at a college that was absurdly expensive with knowledge that didn’t even apply to your current job, you felt overwhelmed by the actual cost of being alive. You made decent money but it seemed that all of your paychecks went to food, rent and student loans. Your college days made you unashamed of asking for a discount but you’ve never been so aggressive in your life. You were just thankful that Shouto didn’t look too deep into your comment and seemed agreeable.

You most likely meant it in a mocking tone but your casual ‘good boy’ and a future meeting in response did something to Shouto. He was used to others flirting with him, often being gratuitous in their praise and submissive towards him. If they weren’t after his money, then they only cared about his looks. Your attitude was… refreshing.

He found himself staring at your conversation on his phone days later as if anticipating you to say something else but you didn’t.

---

It had been a while since you last went on a date, which was why you had to argue out loud with yourself that picking up a laptop from a handsome stranger was definitely not a date.

“I always get this dolled up for casual meetings,” you tried to convince yourself in the mirror, tugging at your clothes to make sure they sat just right on your body.

You eyed the bottle of perfume on your bathroom counter. “I always wear perfume too, not just for incredibly special occasions…”

Feeling your anxiety pick up as you approached the coffee shop, you tried to appear as casual as you could as your eyes searched for a tall, lean man wearing a light blue button up and khakis.

Maybe you should look at the picture he sent you again to make sure you remembered his outfit properly? It wasn’t weird at all, you reminded yourself, not when Shouto sent you the mirror selfie himself.

‘To make it easier to find me,’ he texted.

“You’re here early,” a low voice said from behind, their figure casting a shadow over you and your phone screen.

Jumping in surprise, you quickly turned to see that Shouto himself appeared, looking exactly like his photo. In his hand was a bag from the local electronics store. You threw your phone in your pocket, hoping that he didn’t see what you were looking at.

When you didn’t reply, he offered to get you a drink.

“Uh, it’s fine. I should be the one getting you a drink,” you stammered, grateful that he didn’t make any mention of what he might have seen on your phone screen. You motioned towards the bag and then the café. “Ya know, equivalent exchange and all that.”

He gave you a wry smile. “Equivalent exchange, huh?”

You didn’t like the look on his face. He wouldn’t order something ridiculous, would he? This wasn’t some place where you could add extravagant shit to your drinks, like 14K gold flakes, right? You checked your bank account before you left. You had a couple hundred to spare for the month but you most certainly didn’t want to spend it on drinks.

“How about this,” he offered, seeing the weary look on your face. “I give you my coffee order, you get yourself something too and then after, we can chat a little. We both came out of our way after all.”

Shouto might as well have shoved those bills into your gaping mouth instead of your hand. Not only were you surprised by the excessive amount of money he gave you but you were relieved that he ordered something normal.

---

“So what did you want to talk about?” You asked, trading his drink for the computer.

The two of you sat in a more secluded part of the outdoor section, blocked with shrubs from other patrons and any passersby. It was good to

“When you mentioned equivalent exchange, it made me wonder what else you might be interested in if you thought it was a fair trade...”

You had a slight suspicion of what Shouto might be implying but it also rose from the same place that tried to convince you that this was somehow a date. You waited for him to finish before responding.

He spoke so bluntly that you felt a flutter of embarrassment rise from your stomach and into your throat, making you stutter as you spoke.

“…so, you’re propositioning me for sex in exchange for money?”

Shouto’s face turned a bright red at your question. It was what he was asking but it sounded different when it came from your mouth instead of his. It sounded vulgar and he felt like a perv, regret immediately washing over him for thinking you would even be agreeable to something like that. He could already hear his assistant and PR rep screaming at him. This was probably illegal in some parts of the country.

He cleared his throat to hide his embarrassment but you thought he looked nonplussed, making you wonder if he proposed this kind of deal often.

“Well?”

As much as you wanted to scream ‘Yes, absolutely fucking YES’ at the top of your lungs, you didn’t want to show how desperate you were and make Shouto rescind his offer.

“I’ll text you in a few days. I need to think about this.”

---

What 20-something-year-old hasn’t joked about being a sugar baby? Being in the workforce and knowing you would have to slave away for another thirty to forty years at minimum would make even the most prudent of saints throw away their moral compass. Especially for someone as hot as Shouto.

You were talking to yourself in the mirror again, making faces at your reflection and pulling, squeezing, tugging different assets, trying to figure out what it was that made Shouto offer such a lucrative deal to you.

“I mean, duh,” you told your reflection. “Some hot, young rich dude wants to rail me? And pay me for it? Beats having some creepy old dude suck my toes.”

You almost felt bad for accepting his offer, thinking that you were practically robbing the guy. You were winning all-around and Shouto? Well, you knew you weren’t the worst looking out there and at least you thought that you were pretty funny…

---

The boring humdrum of Shouto’s days in the office was broken by the loud chirp of his phone alerting him of a text message. He opened it eagerly, having already muted all of his group chats with co-workers and friends.

**I’ll do it but don’t request anything weird

The smile on his face fell as he read your text. Would it be weird that he was essentially asking you to be his girlfriend without the actual time and emotional commitment? The question was pushed out of his mind as it got consumed by something more powerful- loneliness.

---

The first time was awkward for the both of you to say the least, one asking to stop right when it felt hot and heavy for the other. It felt wrong to take Shouto’s money then, apologizing profusely and saying that you’d do better next time.

But with each meeting, the two of you grew more comfortable in each other’s presence, the kisses coming easier and the orgasms coming.

In the beginning, it wasn’t hard to follow Shouto’s rule about no emotional attachment. The two of you acted like a couple together -him sharing his work and personal stress with you- but when you were apart, you went back to your separate lives.

To be extra cautious, you didn’t have his number saved. It was tempting but you thought of your student loans and your monthly bills every time you wanted to look him up on the Internet.

It was with astonishment that you learned that he was a high-ranking hero a few weeks into your relationship -the news and heroes was something that you unintentionally avoided-, admitting that you thought he was just a good-looking rich kid with a fancy job.

“A pretty boy with an even prettier wallet,” you told him once as you parted early in the morning, the sun’s rays casting him in a glow that made him look like an angel from your wettest dreams.

The light was bright as you two parted ways so you couldn’t see the frown on Shouto’s face at your comment. That meeting would have marked six months since you two made your arrangement.

---

The door slammed against the wall as frantic hands rushed to shut it, clothes and zippers coming undone.

Shouto spoke in-between kisses, his words sometimes getting lost against your skin.

“Couldn’t stop thinking about you today,” he murmured, his hands making quick work of your button-up as he hoisted you onto his kitchen counter.

“And what were you thinking about? How much this is gonna cost you?” You teased. You always deflected comments like that from Shouto, which have been increasing as of late. It made it difficult not to fall for the man when he whispered the sweetest things in your ear while making you feel so good.

He looked up at you, your hands in his hair pushed his bangs back, making it easy for him to look into your eyes clearly.

“No, I was thinking about how nice it would be to hear my name on your lips.”

He smirked as you did that one thing you always did when you were surprised, pushing your reaction even further. “No, honestly I was thinking about how much I miss –”

You didn’t let him finish, your mouth crushing his confession.

---

When you left, your phone beeped letting you know that Shouto had sent money to your account. Before you’d check your banking app once you got home, divvying up the money to your varying expenses for the month. This time though, you flopped onto your couch instead, staring at the ceiling.

There were multiple things that Shouto could have said. I miss your touch. I miss fucking you. I miss… I miss I miss I miss. Your mind ran through everything other than I miss you.

It’s not like you were oblivious to others having romantic feelings for you, but with Shouto, it didn’t make sense. Not with his rules. Not with his life. Not with… anything really.

Why would he waste his time on some average citizen who worked a 9 to 5 when he could have someone more glamorous?

---

The sex was good and it was nice to have someone who listened and supported him. But as the weeks went on, your attitude and behavior started to bother him more and more. He couldn’t specify why it bothered him but he started putting weight into your words, spending the moments after you left thinking about everything that happened.

“Work,” you told him one night as you yawned. You were usually tired when you met up, nights being the most convenient time for both of you.

Shouto threw on a loose tee, giving you a side glance. “With my money, you could go part-time. Maybe even quit your job after another year or two.”

Trying to contain your expression, you wondered how long Shouto was planning on this lasting. It never occurred to you that he liked you enough to have this span over years, especially without getting emotions involved.

You approached the subject the way you usually did when he made comments that threatened to expose your true feelings. You joked about it.

“Maybe I can retire early then. Live my dreams of being a trophy wife or whatever...”

Another yawn escaped your lips, a mumbled ‘should head out soon’ barely registered as Shouto got lost in his thoughts. You always came to him tired and he wondered if his meetings were just another job to you.

And your dreams of being a trophy wife? Perhaps he was being too analytical but why couldn’t you imagine that with him?

---

Despite what your relationship with Shouto might imply, you really didn’t care much about the money. He’s been around others who were much more shameless about getting a handout from him or squeezing as much as they could get out of the pro-hero.

It seemed like you were underpaid, in his opinion. You blatantly refused Shouto’s initial offer, quickly making up some story about how you had a friend in a similar situation who only received a third of that. He was overpaying and he should have researched the market before offering such a ridiculous number. In reality, you knew you weren’t that great and most definitely not that special. It made you embarrassed to think that he truly thought being with you was worth that much.

---

Your life had grown exceedingly more comfortable since you met him. You were able to make a sizeable dent in your loans and paid off a credit card or two. Though having this non-relationship with him was a second job, it felt as if you had more time to enjoy life with Shouto around.

“Vegetables and cheese?” You asked one weekend, rifling through the bag of groceries that Shouto brought to your apartment.

It was humiliating at first to have him come over, something you tried to avoid for as long as possible. It was a humble one-bedroom in a decent part of the city but it was nothing in comparison to the extravagant penthouse that Shouto hardly lived in.

“They’re from the farmers market,” he told you, helping you unpack and put the items in the fridge.

“Organic, fresh and supportive of local business.”

“God, I could fuck you right now,” you teased.

He smiled at your comment, plucking a fresh strawberry from the counter behind you. Though you should have been used to Shouto’s tall, lean body by now, you weren’t. You squirmed beneath him, now locked in place with one arm and his hips pressed into yours.

He traced the shape of your mouth with the tip of the fruit as if trying to tempt you with it. But his words were far more seductive.

“Then why don’t you?” He dared.

---

“Not that I’m complaining but why don’t you have a girlfriend?” You asked one early morning. After Shouto’s urging, you figured it wouldn’t hurt to play hooky from your day job once in a while.

Golden rays spilled into the master bedroom, Shouto’s hero uniform cast aside on a chair, covering up another one of his many awards that he received. He was handsome, sweet and had it all. Why was he wasting his time and money on you when he could be with someone that he actually wanted to be with?

“It’s…”

He thought about mentioning his childhood and parents, awkward first dates that didn’t last more than a few hours and fan encounters that painted his picture of romantic relationships.

“Complicated.”

You hummed, a neutral response to Shouto’s vague answer.

“Not ready.”

He nodded. That was the gist of it. You always seemed to break down his issues and concerns to their barest forms, understanding him without really prying.

“And you?”

You blinked, going so far as to stop twirling his hair around your fingers. You felt him shift and you knew his eyes were on your face but you continued to stare at anywhere but him.

As much as Shouto confided in you, it was difficult to do the same without growing attached to him. There was already a certain amount of fondness that you had for him that bordered grounds for firing.

“Haven’t really been looking. Besides, I haven’t had much time to date because of…”

Us.

You watched as Shouto made a face, an unknown emotion flashing across his eyes. Though he never said you two had to be exclusive, the thought of you with someone else didn’t sit well with him. He felt torn though for his selfishness and desire to make you happy.

“It’s not like it’s a bad thing,” you said honestly. “I don’t really want to be with anyone else other than you.”

Oh.

He could feel his cheeks flush with heat at your comment. Even if you were just telling him something that he wanted to hear, it still made his heart race.

Shouto moved from your chest to his side of the bed, his back turned towards you. You checked the time. It was still early. You listened to his breathing slow and even out while wondering if you should have said that.

---

He asked for something different after he woke up and you hesitated at first, wondering if what he was asking of you straddled the line of his hard-set rule.

“You sure about this?” You asked, trying to make it seem as if you weren’t eagerly trying to dissuade him. “We could get in trouble with this. You could get in trouble.”

It was the first time Shouto ever got snappy with you. “If I didn’t want to do this, I wouldn’t ask.”

You only nodded as a confirmation, following him out the door.

Squinting, it was unusual being out in the day with Shouto like this. On the rare occasion where you would meet up during waking hours, the two of you usually had somewhere secluded to retreat to. But this? This was far from secluded.

The restaurant was bustling with patrons as the two of you walked into one of Musutafu’s hottest eateries without a reservation. You heard the place even rejected world-renown celebrities so you had your doubts that Shouto had enough star power to get the two of you in within the next six months, let alone immediately.

But as usual, Shouto surprised you, putting a hand on the small of your back to guide you to a tight spot in the center of the room, both of you following the server. You could feel everyone’s eyes on you but as you dared to look up, you realized that they were all focused on Shouto instead.

“Everyone can’t take their eyes off of you,” you commented.

“A shame,” he said, pulling out your chair for you and pushing it in. “Because I only have eyes for you.”

You laughed, using anxiety about all the attention as an excuse to why you felt so fluttery. “How long have you been wanting to say that?”

He gave you a thoughtful hum, eyes scanning half the menu before looking up to meet yours. He closed the menu, giving you his full attention.

“I never really wanted to until I met you.”

Oh.

---

Shouto tried to hide his dissatisfaction about his PR stunt, the newspaper rustling in his hands as he searched once more to see if there was any mention of your name. A shoddy photo of you both wasn’t even in the tabloids.

He frowned in annoyance. It didn’t matter if it didn’t make the paper, at least the people at the restaurant saw that he was obviously on a date with you, right?

Checking his phone for any missed calls or texts, he scrolled through his messages from his assistant and PR. There were only dates for interviews, an award ceremony in six months and a few questions about his thoughts on collaborating with a certain designer. No comments about his love life at all or what he did yesterday.

Taking a final sip from his coffee, he tucked the newspaper under his arm. At the very least, he got to learn a little more about you, the atmosphere of the restaurant making you more open to casual conversation.

---

Meeting up with Bakugou after his agency requested his services, he and the blond stretched after easily handling the criminals, Kirishima handling the press to the side. It wasn’t like they needed his Quirk. It surely made the mission faster, but it seemed if anything it was a ploy from Kirishima to hang out with the other two, quickly suggesting a bar to relax in after all of their hard work.

Despite the noise inside of the establishment, Bakugou’s harsh laughter rang loud and clear at their corner table. When the duo asked what Shouto had been up to lately, he didn’t lie.

“What a sap,” he howled despite Kirishima's warning jabs.

“I told you,” he said, running a hand through his hair, bits of ash and ice coming out of it. “You’re doing it wrong. You either are or you aren’t in a relationship. You either want her to be your girl or you don’t.”

Heterochromatic eyes glanced at Kirishima for any validation into Bakugou’s words. The redhead gave him a smile. “Your situation is probably more complicated than that but being honest about your feelings is the better route to follow.”

Bakugou waved him off, not giving Shouto a chance to object to either of their words.

---

The blond’s words rang in his head as he tried to decipher their meaning. The man was known for his astute nature but that didn’t mean he knew everything or had the best judgement when it came to matters of the heart. He wasn’t even dating let alone interested in romance! It would be best to take his words with a grain of salt, but Shouto forgot that salt melted ice, Bakugou’s words lingering in his mind every time he thought about you.

---

On his day off, Shouto perused through several stores at a higher-end shopping district, judging the items harshly as he tried to pick something that you liked. It was a relaxing way to pass time for him as he imagined what sort of expressions you’d make as you opened his gifts.

“Don’t you think that Kacchan is a little right?” Deku asked, shaking his head as a no to the engraved Burberry wallet that Shouto was looking at.

“The two of you spend a lot of your free time together. You think about her when you’re apart. You do things that you think would make her happy and you rely her when you’re stressed out. I’ve only had a couple of serious relationships but they sound a lot like mine…”

“It’s about the intention behind it,” Shouto said, settling on a scarf instead. “I might feel that way but it’s most likely one-sided. I’m paying for her affection.”

---

Of course. Of course Shouto almost got what he wanted. There were speculations about his love life in three different tabloids and aired on one TV channel dedicated to pro-hero gossip.

The same picture of Momo on top of him, her chest in his flushed face after a mission gone wrong, was on the front pages of these papers, some online articles too from what his assistant texted him. Both of their agencies were working hard to clear up the misunderstanding, trying to locate the photographer that sold the photo to the press.

His day only got worse as Shouto snuck off to your apartment, a small travel bag slung across his back as he planned to hide away with you for a few nights. It would be too suspicious if he took you both on a week-long trip outside of the country. That was what Momo was already planning on doing. It would only make the misunderstanding worse.

**Let’s meet for coffee first.

Shouto’s stomach dropped as he found you sitting right next to the newsstand, paper held so he could see that damned picture in front of it. He found his pace quickening, thinking of ways to calmly explain the situation.

“It’s not what you think!” He exclaimed, throwing down his bag on the floor and reaching for the paper. He could incinerate it easily but you refused to let it go, your eyes too interested in finishing the article.

“Are you telling me that Miss Yaoyarozu wasn’t ‘creati-ng a romance so hot that it melted ice prince Shouto’s heart?’”

You wanted to laugh at the seriousness of his ‘absolutely not!’

“If not her, then who has? If anyone even has at all.”

By now Bakugou’s words had melted and become a part of his heart. ‘Either you want her to be your girl or not’ gruffly echoing in his mind as he quickly assessed the situation and considered all possible outcomes.

“It’s you,” Shouto said. “It’s been you for the past eight months, when I realized six months ago, when you first bumped into me here from when we first texted.”

Shouto’s confession was surprisingly honest. He’s been vulnerable with you before but about things like work and friendships. The two of you skirted around the topic of love.

There was no way to deflect his confession now, no way for you to joke or tease your way out of this. It was time for you to acknowledge your own feelings for him.

“But what about your rule? No emotional attachment?”

He ran a hand through his hair, knowing that this would come up. “It was stupid. I was stupid.”

You laughed, Shouto still tense from your lack of acknowledgement for his feelings.

“You’re not the only one who’s stupid,” you smiled at him. “I’m stupid too. I’ve been lying to myself every time I saw you and every time we parted. I… I like you too but it seemed like emotional intimacy was a burden to you. Guess we can be idiots together”

After hearing the last part, his mind focused on ‘together,��� he blurted out, “Date me. I don’t want you to be some other person’s trophy wife when you can be mine.”

Shouto blinked, realizing the pace he was going at.

“What happened to not being ready?” You teased, savoring the moment of a blushing and bumbling Shouto who tried to backtrack before his usual cool demeanor took over again.

“Maybe I wasn’t ready because I was busy waiting for you.”

---

A few days later, Shouto sat at his spot in front of the coffee shop, newspaper in hand, reading over the same page for the past 30 minutes. He could recite the article by heart -he’s read it that many times-, flipping back and forth to look at the photo on the front with fondness.

The only time he looked up was when he heard the metallic screech of the chair in front of him being pulled back, letting him know that someone was going to sit down in front of him.

Your pointer finger poked at the front page, Shouto moving it upwards with a grin so you could read the headline.

‘Local Woman Apparently Burns Hole in Shouto’s Wallet While He Gets the Hots for Her in the Process’

The picture showed you two in front of that very spot, the photographer also coincidentally capturing a very surprised Bakugou and Kaminari post-patrol in the process.

“Can’t keep a secret in this town, huh?” You noted, reaching across the table to read the article yourself.

Your hand grazed his as you did this, the cold air making a shock of electricity as you touched.

The spark. The paper. The coffee shop.

It was everything that Shouto wanted.

Return to Curated Masterlists

[junos-office-drama]

From fanfic to paycheck: On writing for a living

Dreaming of translating your fanfic skills into a writing career?

The reality is that only a tiny fraction of aspiring authors will ever have a traditionally published book, and an even smaller fraction of those will be successful enough to earn a living via their writing.

That doesn't mean, however, that you can't earn a living from your wordsmithing skills. If you're truly interested in writing for a living – complete a steady paycheck, benefits, and paid time off – there is another path.

And in this series, I'm going to tell you exactly how to navigate that path.

I am, arguably, a professional writer.

Even though I've never published a book (and likely never will), writing is how I earn my paycheck. Millions of people have read my writing, even though they've never heard of my name.

In fact, if you live in certain parts of the United States, there's a pretty good chance you've seen something I've written – I mean, right before you threw it in the trash.

That junk mail that clutters your mailbox? All those marketing emails filling your inbox? That digital ad that pops up in your social feed? The billboard on the side of the road as you drive by?

Some of that is mine. (I apologize for nothing.)

For years, I was a professional copywriter. Today, I manage a team of copywriters.

What is a copywriter?

Copywriters are critical members of every marketing team. They write letters, postcards, emails, advertisements, billboards, product packaging, blogs, event invitations, social media posts, video scripts, webpages, whitepapers, case studies, eBooks, product catalogues, campaign slogans, signage, and so much more.

In short, you live your life surrounded by the work of copywriters. You can't enter a store, open your mail, or scroll through social media without seeing the work of a copywriter. And they all got paid for their writing.

How much does a copywriter make?

Copywriter salaries vary wildly depending on experience, skill, industry, and location.

In my personal experience, an entry-level copywriter can expect to earn at least $35,000 per year (plus benefits). Senior-level copywriters with 10+ years of experience will earn upwards of $50,000 per year, and I know of several senior copywriters who earn six figures.

(In comparison, an Authors Guild survey found the median income for full-time book authors was only $20,300. For more about what book authors earn, I highly recommend this Writing Income blog post by author Jim C. Hines.)

Many who start as copywriters transition to other jobs that pay even more still – they become website managers, social media managers, marketing/campaign managers, product marketers, creative directors, etc.

What's the job like?

Most of a copywriter's time will be spent actually writing. Another chunk will be spent proofing either your own work or another writer's work. Some time will be devoted to research; how much depends on what kind of writing you're doing (if you're writing postcards, very little; if you're writing case studies, you might spend more time researching than actually writing). A portion of most days will also be spent attending meetings and handling administrative tasks such as updating project trackers, emailing back-and-forth with colleagues, routing finished pieces for review, etc.

It is, generally, a pretty steady and predictable job, with most of the work completed independently. You can expect to work 35-45 hours most weeks of the year, with an occasional week that might push over 50 (such as immediately prior to a major campaign launch). Weekend work is pretty rare, although it can occur. There will be occasional pockets of stress when rush jobs or demanding clients pop up – this will be more common if you work for an agency rather than an in-house team.

Almost all copywriting jobs can be done remotely, from the comfort of your home. (I worked as a remote copywriter back in 2016, years before the pandemic.) 

The four copywriter paths to employment

In general, there are four paths to employment as a copywriter.

In House: Many companies have "in-house" marketing teams, which almost always include one or more copywriters. This means you are likely to write about the same product/service over and over again; this can make the work easier, because you become a subject matter expert in the process, but it can also feel repetitive. As you learn your managers' and colleagues' preferences, you will be able to predict exactly what kind of copy will get approved – which means dealing with less negative feedback and fewer rounds of revisions.

These jobs tend to be very stable; companies know they can't market anything without someone writing the marketing copy, so copywriters tend to be among the last on a marketing team to be laid off in bad years.

In-house copywriters are full-time jobs, usually with full benefits and paid time off.

Pros: More stable work

Cons: Less work variety

Agency: Companies that don't have "in-house" teams rely on agencies, which are companies that exist solely to create marketing and advertising for other companies (think: Mad Men). Agencies always have multiple copywriters on staff. Agency copywriters will generally write for a wide variety of clients, often across several different industries, so there can be a lot of variety – but also more challenge, because you may not have in-depth knowledge of the product you're writing about.

In addition, because your clients may be constantly changing, it can be harder to predict what a client will want or approve. You'll have to deal with a lot more negative feedback and spend more time revising projects as a result.

Agency jobs tend to be slightly less stable than in-house jobs. For example, if an agency loses a major client, they may lay off the team that worked on that account – including the copywriter.

Agency copywriters are full-time jobs, usually with full benefits and paid time off.

Pros: More variety, may pay more than an in-house job

Cons: Less work stability, dealing with clients

Independent Freelance: A lot of smaller businesses don't have enough marketing work to justify a full-time copywriter and don't have enough of a budget to hire an agency. Many of these businesses turn to independent freelancers, who are non-employees who do the work on a contract basis.

As an independent freelance copywriter, you get to choose what work you do, when you do it, and how much you charge for it. However, you also operate as your own small business – that means no benefits (like health care) and no paid time off. You also have to deal with all the accounting, bookkeeping, invoicing, etc. You will also have to find your own clients, and your income may vary wildly from month to month depending on how much work you're able to find.  

Independent freelancers can work full-time or part-time. Depending on your skill level, an independent freelancer copywriter may be able to charge anywhere between $25/hour up to $150/hour (or more – but these tend to be niche experts with highly specialized skill sets). Some freelancers choose to charge per project rather than per hour.

Pros: Completely control of your work schedule, higher hourly wage

Cons: No stability and no benefits, need to continually find clients

Special note: Many in-house copywriters also work as independent freelancer copywriters on the side, to pull in extra income (this is what I do). This is usually not an option for agency copywriters, as the agency may view your side gig as "competition."

Contract Freelance: Somewhere in between the in-house copywriter and the independent freelance copywriter is the contract freelance copywriter. This copywriter is hired by a staffing or talent agency, and then works on a contract basis (often 6- or 12-month contracts) for another company. Some contractor freelancers also work a small number of hours per week for a variety of clients, adding up to a full-time job.

Contract freelance copywriters enjoy the higher hourly wage of an independent freelancer contractor, but someone else does the hard work of finding clients, invoicing, paying taxes, etc. Often the staffing or talent agency will also provide benefits and paid time off, too. Contractor freelancers often earn between $30/hr and $90/hr, though I've seen both higher and lower rates.

The two major downsides? The staffing or talent agency may take a cut of your hourly rate, and you may have gaps in between contracts where you're not earning any income at all.

Pros: High degree of control of your work schedule, higher hourly wage, benefits, someone else does the administrative work

Cons: Staffing/talent agency may take a percentage of your pay, less stability than in-house or agency jobs

Is this sounding like a job you might be interested in having? Stay with me! Next up, some things to think about before you pursue this job path, followed by how to find, apply for, and get a job as a copywriter (with tips on how to leverage your fanfic accomplishments in resumes and interviews).

Next time: How do I know if a copywriting job is actually a good fit for me?

[transboytwelve]

HELP ME that coffee shop au idea is fucking genius,, how did yaz get there? how many times has she’s seen the TARDIS change around her and figure it’s just another remodel? thirteen being oblivious to it adds another extra layer of hilarity especially if yaz has been there longer than her

okay so

starbucks. she works at starbucks.

she's worked there indefinitely, she really has no idea how long but she's like yeah it's probably been a few years I think and 13 (like a week into her regen) is like YEARS???

Yaz was working when 13 was thrown out of the tardis she's like oh yeah a few weeks ago we lost power and then my boss must've remodeled the entire shop interior on my days off because it was completely different now

she doesn’t live on the tardis but SOMEHOW (hand space wavey reasons) there's a door in a back alley off a street that leads directly to the shop and Yaz just...assumes it's legit

she got the listing off of indeed and she really didn't have a choice to be picky and yknow she's never actually MET her boss and she's almost sure she was trained by a hologram but she's not technology savvy so how would she know whats possible nowadays

she's pretty sure the entire shop is a front for something because her first paycheck is all in cash in a paper bag on the counter with her name on it and she's like ....weird but ok. she's not a cop how is she supposed to know if its a legit business or not thats none of her business

she doesn’t actually know how much she makes because her sack-o-cash paychecks vary even tho she works the same hours every single day every week but she just assumes some of it is extra tips or whatever

yknow what would be hilarious tho is if the back alley doorway off a street in the middle of sheffield actually just goes straight into the tardis console and by some miracle of coincidence the doctor has never been there when Yaz goes in for her shift

Yaz just assumes the console room is like. a mall or something. maybe like a fancy office building. or like an interactive art display. she hasn't asked.

so like the way the doctor finds out Yaz works in her tardis is bc she's in there one day when Yaz comes in for her shift and Yaz doesn't think anything of it because she's assumed it's an art piece or something and the doctor just like. FREEZES she's like .......what are you doing in my tardis

tardis ??

13s like .......yes........my tardis, what you're standing in

Yaz is like oh sorry I didn't know this art piece was called that, i'm just passing through to start my shift

13s like shift ?? Yaz is like yeah ?? the coffee shop like three hallways down??

13s like .......coffee shop ???

Yaz is like .....are you foreign? and 13s like yeah you could say that and Yaz is like you'll have to come by sometime and 13s like ?????? and Yaz just is like sorry ive gotta go Im scheduled in two minutes

anyways Yaz doesn't get a ton of customers but she does get a morning rush sometimes and yknow at this point she's pretty used to not visibly reacting when someone is like, completely blue or has an extra arm or something she's got a great customer service poker face

when the console room changes she assumes the art piece has changed or like another artist has taken over like honestly she doesn't get paid enough to wonder about that so she just ignores it (she likes the bookshelf kitchen style the best but the glowing crystals are also cool)

Yaz just has massive 'yes and' energy and like this isn't the weirdest job she's ever had and she likes that it's mostly quiet and she can study between customers and she never gets in trouble for sitting down and the sack-o-cash is a nice surprise every week

and also @softyasmin had some thoughts on this too

ok but also like river or clara or jack or lit anyone strolling past 13 in the console room and being like "one sec im gonna go grab a coffee first" and they go to yaz's little shop and she knows all of them by name bc they're her regulars and she chats with them when she gets their drinks

river being like hold on sweetie let me go get a coffee and 13s like I have a coffee machine?? since when??? and river just laughs literally no one tells her about the whole ass starbucks in her tardis

clara goes there to grade papers when she was alive and Yaz doesn't see her for a while and then clara shows up one day and Yaz is like oh it's been a while and claras like yea I was dead for a bit and Yaz just assumes its one of clara's jokes and she's like oh yeah haha I felt that way last week when I worked a double

13 literally has no idea how they get in because they don’t come in through the front door and Yaz just shrugs she's like idk I just serve coffee

river running in all sweaty and is like hi make it quick love just an espresso today im on the run unfortunately and Yaz thinks its a joke and laughs and is like is there ever a time when you’re not on the run? and river just winks

river drops little trinkets into yaz's tip jar and Yaz displays them in her little break room in the back and 13 sees them once and is like .........theres an intergalactic warrant out for half of these items

[stitch-n-time]

Can you explain how the US housing laws work? You have me interested

Short answer: they don’t.

Longer answer (because I have to work tonight and truly don’t have like 8 hours to write the thesis, because you bet your ass I could):

There is actually an internal structure that the low income housing system has been built around that makes it nearly impossible to navigate, difficult to get into, and specifically works against the people that it was supposedly built to help.

I’m actually not quite sure where to start with this, so it’s going to be all over the place and bouncing back and forth, but that’s also kind of on brand for the low income housing system.

The system as we know it is very much a post WWII thing, so the info here will be from after that point. A lot of this will be in kind of broad, sweeping terms. But since the US is like 60 different states in a trenchcoat trying to sneak into an R-rated movie, very little of it actually covers the entirety of the country. There are also state and city levels of bullshit that people have to wade through. Most people don’t make it.

I’m going to use my own experiences as an example. But know that my experiences are NOT typical. When I started down this rabbit hole, I was a 30-ish year old white woman, a part time student, presented as a professional female on a daily basis, had a fairly stable income from a job I had held for years, and a vehicle (though making payments). All of this put together meant I had it pretty easy.

Some of that caused problems, though. The vehicle was a problem. It was a newer model gently used vehicle. According to the dealership, the previous owner had traded it in because it was a manual transmission and they wanted an automatic. When I bought it, it had less than 60k miles on it and was in excellent condition. In the eyes of the people who approve the paperwork and rubber stamp applicants for low income housing, I could get rid of that vehicle, and the moneys spent on the payments and insurance could go toward housing. Which would be reasonable, except most of the US doesn’t have public transportation at all. What public transport does exist is sketchy, rarely runs on schedule, and often does not go into residential areas. I COULD have gotten rid of the car, but that would have meant a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4 hours on a bus to get to class and 5 hours on the return trip twice a week, then a 2 mile hike home OR a 2 mile hike to the nearest bus station, 4.5 hours on a bus, another 2 mile hike to get to work, and the same on the return. At that point, I would have been spending more time on the bus than either at work or school, and might as well just live on the damned thing, since all I would have time to do at home is shower and MAYBE eat a sandwich?

But that’s also typical. Part of the laws as they are written specifically state that a person or household can not own physical properties that are over a certain value, because those properties could be sold in order to elevate the person/family’s lifestyle. That also makes household absolutely reliant on public transportation, which is simply not available in many poor areas.

Which goes into redlining, and systemic racism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

The fact that I was a student also worked against me. If a person can afford to go to school, they can afford housing. So why would you want/need help from the government? I’m just thankful that I was a part time student when the need for low income housing arose�� If you’re a full time student, you are automatically denied on any application for low income housing. There are different legal designations for “low income housing” and “student housing”. They can not exist in the same housing complex for legal reasons. So if I had been taking one more class that semester, I would have been denied, and would have been homeless.

That in itself doesn’t sound terrible. And there’s reasons for the legal differences. But think about it… What if I had been in the last semester of school and something had happened? What about the people who are both enrolled in school and are working, trying to make ends meet, trying to be able to do something better, and either their lease is up or they get evicted or… I don’t know… their house burns down or a tornado hits or suddenly medical bills? If a person fills out that paperwork while still a student, even if they say “I’m graduating next month and want to move in the month after that” they still count as a full time student and would get denied. Which means leaving school and being spit out into the post graduate world probably without a job, while being denied help with keeping a roof over their head, when it’s absolutely necessary to have a physical address while searching for a job.

Which goes into the anti-homeless way of thinking, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

I’m going to lump the “fairly stable income from a job I had held for years” and “presented as a professional female on a daily basis” into one, because they are directly related. I had worked my way through a trade school, and had been working in the medical field for nearly 4 years. The practice was open 4 days a week. I was there 2 days, the male counterpoint was there the other 2 days. If a client preferred one of us over the other, either they scheduled appropriately, or the doctor asked us to come in for that client’s appointment time. Because a large portion of the clientele were middle aged and older, as well as conservative, the dress code reflected accordingly. Since I actually REALLY liked the job, and the doctor and his family were pretty awesome people, I dressed and styled accordingly, on a daily basis. But because the number of hours on the clock varied with the number of clients scheduled for therapy appointments, there were times when those paychecks got mighty thin. There were absolutely trends of busy seasons and light seasons. Sometimes during that light season there were days when I would go to work for a couple of hours, go home until about 3PM, then go back for 2 or 3 hours. It was hard to pin that down.

Having to explain that I could not pinpoint an amount of annual income with any accuracy while filling out the application worked against me. And just about anybody who works in retail, food service, etc. - all the jobs that people with low incomes tend to have – will tell you that they suffer the same thing. Go  into work, put in a couple of hours, and have the manager come tell you to go home because it’s not busy enough to justify having people on the clock. But without having an accurate estimation of annual income (that could be verified by their calling your employer) means that the application is denied. The general consensus is that if you can’t pinpoint your annual income, then you’re lieing on the application, which means you’re untrustworthy, and therefore don’t deserve to get the help you need to keep a roof over your head.

That conservative professional look helped me here, though. I went into the office dressed well, in khakis and a nice blouse, to fill out the application and speak to the people. While I was there, another lady came in to fill out an application. This is somebody who I happened to know personally. She was also a professional, who was arguably in a slightly better place than I was because her income did not fluctuate (though it was low, as she was recovering from a divorce and most of the family income had come from her ex husband), but she was “dressed down” in shorts and a t shirt. We made the same arguments. I ended up in an apartment, and she did not.

Honestly, I was actually lucky to get into an apartment. A lot of people don’t realize it, but even with things being classified as low income housing, it takes a LOT of money to get into places. Just like every other rental in the US, before you move in, you have to pay the first month’s rent. And a deposit. And if you have pets, another deposit. And the cost of having the electricity and water turned on. And depending on the specific details of the contract you have to sign, possibly trash pickup. And if you want internet, either you pay for that and get a modem through the ISP, or you pay extra on signing the lease. And if you want to do your laundry in your home (if there’s even a hookup), there’s an extra rental fee for a washer and dryer, unless you bring your own.

I got lucky. When I applied and was approved, this particular housing development was running a “special” - if you sign a lease, you get one month rent free to use within 12 months of signing. I had to use it immediately. With all the extra fees and everything else, I could either pay for the rent OR the deposit, but not both – so I paid the deposit and laughingly told them I’d like to use that free month on the first month, immediately, right now, please and thank you, now where’s my key? They almost turned me away at that point.

I honestly believe that if it hadn’t been for my professional clothing and the fact that I could point to a couple of scabs on my face, that I would have been denied at that point. (The scabs were from a dog. I had been renting a room from a “friend” who is no longer a friend. Her dog bit my face, and instead of punishing the dog, she decided I needed to move out that weekend. Note: this is literally the ONLY time I’ve had a dog bite me, despite having been around them most of my life, and this particular dog had snapped at multiple people before.)

Which goes into classism, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now the thing that has been on my last nerve for a few years now is a good one. The laws state that if your household changes in any way, you have to fill out the application again. Doesn’t matter if you literally got approved the day before: you fill it out again. Because there have been household changes. It doesn’t sound terrible at all, but I know somebody who got evicted from low income housing and ended up homeless because his wife left. Suddenly the household size was smaller, but had the same income, and it was over the limit for the household size. Sorry not sorry you have to go. I know somebody who was evicted for “falsified paperwork” because she had a baby and was in the hospital for 2 weeks, so didn’t get the paperwork in on time. They ended up in a homeless shelter (in this city, homeless shelters are more expensive than a lot of low income housing). Now she’s in debt that she’ll probably never get out of, due to that.

What’s more is that the eligibility requirements to be able to pass those income thresholds change constantly. Out of curiosity, I tracked the changes over the course of a year. Just checking on the first of the month. In a single year, the income requirements changed 10 times. It’s not easy to keep track of, and there’s not much reason to track it unless it’s literally part of your job, in order to keep in compliance with the laws.

My own personal gripe is much less severe than that. I can’t get married. Technically, my fiance can’t live with me. On paper, he lives with his parents, miles away. But he spends most of his time in my apartment, which is under my name only, because I’m disabled (but ineligible for disability) and need his help. We’ve been together for a decade. We’ve been engaged for over 5 years. But if we get married, then the household changes, and we have to fill out the paperwork and get approved again. The thing is: if we put together our incomes into one “household” income, we would never be eligible for low income housing. Which means we would have to move out.

Moving out comes with it’s own difficulties. Because of the paperwork you have to sign to lease low income housing – and depending on where you are because 60 states in a trenchcoat – there are hoops to jump through. The lease in this particular development,  you get a choice. If you break the lease you either a) pay the full amount of rent on the apartment through the end of the lease term or b) pay two months’ rent on the apartment after termination of the lease. So not only would we have to find other housing that we could afford (with all of the move in fees, deposits, transfer of service fees for utilities, bla bla bla), we would also have to pay 2 months’ rent on top of everything else. Which means either borrowing literally thousands of dollars from an individual – banks won’t do loans for this – or having to decide which bills get paid and which don’t while surviving off of ramen noodles for months at a time. Which… uh… would not work well with the man-thing’s diabetes.

Which all goes into respectability politics, and deciding whether or not poor people deserve to have stability and emotional fulfillment, which is a huge part of this, but is a whole ‘nother essay.

Now this may sound like a whole lot of personal whining. And it kind of is. But I can’t speak for anybody else. This is my personal interactions with these people and with the laws behind their behavior. But it’s the laws themselves that are written to be exclusive of the people that need help the most.

Homeless people can not apply, because they don’t have a current address.

Unemployed people can not apply, because they don’t have an income.

Full time students can not apply, because of the legal definitions of the different types of housing.

People with “disposable” property (such as cars) are often denied because they could turn those assets into monies.

People who rely on that “disposable” property for work are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People of color who have been relegated to specific neighborhoods where public transportation is not available due to the redlining of the last century are unable to take advantage of low income housing due to the above.

People who do not have thousands of dollars readily available are denied because they can not pay both the deposit and rent.

People who face employment discrimination (even though it’s illegal) are denied because they can not provide proof of steady income.

People who have bounced from employer to employer are often denied for the same reason.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to change anything about their household.

People who have successfully gained low income housing are often unable to get out of it if their situation improves.

All of it is written into the laws surrounding the housing itself.

So…. Yeah. It doesn’t work. But if you want me to actually get into the nitty gritty, I can start actually researching. But somebody’s gotta pay me for it.

[broadstbroskis]

four times matthew tkachuk tried to use a pickup line plus one time it worked

big shoutout to the anon who went around dropping pickup lines one night for some inspiration for this. you da real mvp. also i’ve now written three fics for this mofo and they’ve all been plus ones. not sure what this says about me but but i’m certain it’s something.

-----

1. Sorry, but you owe me a drink. [Why?] Because when I looked at you, I dropped mine.

It’s a Saturday night in September and you’re out with your friends celebrating the fact that every single one of you have finally landed jobs after graduation. The weather’s starting to cool down, but it’s not so cold that you can’t enjoy one of your favorite rooftop bars still. 

Around you, your friends share your excitement. The whole squad (well, the whole squad that had remained in Calgary, you’re still bitter about Lauren leaving you all for Vancouver even if the opportunity had been amazing) is partying like you’re back in school but with the paychecks you’ve all got now and you’re certain you’re going to be feeling it in the morning.

Laughing on the dance floor with Kath, Will, and Claire, you push your way through the crowd once the song ends to refill your drink. You can’t help but shimmy your shoulders a little at the song that follows it, while you wait for the bartender to fill your whiskey sour.

There’s a tap on your shoulder and you turn, to find a guy with curly hair and dimples smiling at you. His face looks so familiar, but you can’t quite place it.

“Sorry.” He tells you. “But I think you owe me a drink.”

“Oh yeah,” You ask casually, sure you know where this is headed, especially since you’ve managed to place his face. Matthew Tkachuk, star forward for the Calgary Flames and perpetual pest. “Why’s that?”

Somehow, his grin widens even more. “Because when I looked at you, I dropped mine.”

The bartender hands you your whiskey sour and you think about it for barely a minute. “Well let me help you with that!” You dump your drink on him, taking only a moment to relish his shock, before walking away to find your friends.

There’s a huge spot of laughter behind you and it’s only when you reach Kath again that you turn around to realize that it’s Matthew’s friends that laughed. Tucked under the arm of one of the guys still snickering at him is a pretty blonde girl, eyeing you with interest, until she catches you looking back, and gives you a smile and a thumbs up.

2. Do you like raisins? How do you feel about a date?

“Oh my God!” The voice, quite frankly, kind of scares you. It’s too close, much higher than you were expecting, and doesn’t sound anything like Kath’s, who’s due to meet you and Claire any minute but certainly wouldn’t greet you like that.

“Can I help you?” Claire asks, pretty rudely, but you’re not inclined to scold her for it at the moment, when this tiny blonde is standing super close and staring at you with huge eyes.

“You’re my hero!” She exclaims and then covers her mouth. “Sorry! You don’t know me.”

“No, I don’t.” You agree.

“We were all here a couple weeks ago and you threw a drink on my boyfriend’s friend.” She grins. “I’m Sam, and you are my personal hero as well as all of our friends.”

After you and Claire introduce yourselves, you ask, “If he’s that much of an asshole, why are you guys friends with him?”

“He’s more of a pest than an asshole.” Sam says immediately, which does mildly reassure you that Matthew Tkachuk isn’t a total dick. “He’s actually a really nice guy, just cocky as shit.”

“Yeah, I got that much.” You say dryly. “Couldn’t you tell?” You continue, which sends all three of you into giggles, until Kath finally arrives. 

Sam orders a drink with the three of you, hanging around the bar to chat for a while. “I’m stealing all of you.” She declares, after a while, that the four of you have mostly spent laughing. “We have a table in the back, come on.”

“I don’t really know.” You hesitate.

“Honestly, don’t even worry about that. Matty’s totally over that. Honestly, he’ll be more annoyed about the boys chirping him than you turning him down.”

And how’s that saying go? Speak of the devil and he shall appear? Right over Sam’s shoulder pops his head; she’s just missing the angel and she’d be every cartoon you’d ever seen. “Here you are.” Matthew says. “Mony’s looking for you.”

“Perfect!” She grins. “We were just coming back over”

He looks over at her use of we and grins as soon as his eyes meet yours. Just like Sam, he hasn’t forgotten you either. “Hello!”

“Hi.” You return politely.

“We’re going to head over; you coming?” Sam asks Matthew. He points to the bar. “‘Kay, see you there.”

“Hey wait,” All four of you stop, looking over at him, but he’s only got eyes for you. “Do you like raisins?”

You know this is a line, but you can’t for the life of you imagine where the fuck he’s going with it. “No?”

He grins, cheekily, that same one from last time you’d met. “How about a date, then?”

You grin back. “I’m allergic.” You pat his cheek mockingly and then move past him to follow Sam back toward that table in the corner to meet the rest of her friends.

3. Do you know what my shirt is made of? Boyfriend material? 

Matthew’s brother is in town for a game, which means his whole family is in town for a game, which apparently means there’s an after party in his apartment with members from both teams and whoever else they want to invite.

You’re not quite sure how or why you managed to be invited, were honestly planning on turning down the invitation, but Sam insisted you show up, so here you were, rolling up to Matthew’s condo, with her, Sean, and Noah, shortly after the Saturday afternoon matinee.

The party already feels like it’s in full swing when you arrive and yet, people continue to arrive after you. You get caught up chatting in the kitchen for a few minutes with a lovely blonde woman, who you only later learn is Matthew’s mother, and then spend the next five minutes denying that fact completely as Sean and Sam laugh hysterically. “But she’s so nice.”

“You should see her roast Chucky; she gives it pretty good.” Sean’s still laughing.

“Which is pretty much Matt.” Sam adds pointedly. “Come on, YN. When he’s not being a total pest, he’s a pretty great guy.”

You took a sip of your drink instead of answering her. You certainly started to see the great guy side of Matt as you and your friends had started to spend more time with Sam-who frequently came with varying numbers of a hockey team, about as often as she came with just herself-and it was definitely getting easier to see that he actually could be a nice guy. One who was always there for his friends, who adored his family, who’d drop anything the second one of his people needed help.

But a lot of the time, you still just saw a cocky mofo who was used to getting what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a time you saw him that he didn’t at least send a wink at you. He still frequently tried to make some kind of cheesy pass at you, with the biggest shit-eating grin on his face, like it was all some kind of game. 

Sam takes your silence for the reluctant admission that it is and pulls you over to play some wild drinking and card game that you never quite get the hang of and abandon quickly (you hate losing too much to play for long). But that much losing means your drink is empty already and so you head for the kitchen again for a refill.

Just your luck, the only people in the kitchen are Matthew and Brady. You would have been able to pick his brother out of a line up instantly, even if Noah hadn’t pointed him out to you when you guys first walked in. Matthew grins immediately, the same as always, and you just roll your eyes, preparing for what’s to come. “Knew this day would come.”

“And what day is that?” You return. “The one that I’m here, in your apartment?”

“And you know, you don’t have to leave now!” He holds his arm out to you as you look on unimpressed. “‘Cause you know what this shirt’s made of? Boyfriend material.”

He’s grinning that dimpled grin at you and for once, you actually refrain from rolling your eyes at him. “Shame your whole family’s in town right now or I could take it off to confirm that.” You trail a finger down his chest, stopping just before it reaches the button on his pants and grinning widely as he chokes on air, before turning to grab your drink and leave the room immediately afterwards

The sound of Brady’s laughter almost catches you for a second, since you’d actually completely forgotten he was there

4. Hey, you’re pretty and I’m cute. Together we’d be Pretty Cute.

You just needed one more afternoon pick-me-up. One more coffee would do it, right? And then this stupid project would be done? Before deadline? 

You put the order in. Your favorite barista at your favorite coffee shop promises she’ll bring it over when she’s finished with it and you settle back into your table to get back to work.

An arm drops onto your shoulders. “How’s my favorite girl doing?”

You tense immediately. At the voice, at the arm, at the words. “I doubt.” You say, hearing the coldness in your voice that is only reserved for the man who’d dropped himself into the seat across from you uninvited shortly after removing his arm from your shoulders. But at least his arm was gone. “That I could ever be considered your favorite girl, considering how many girls you cheated on me with when we were together.”

“Come on, babe, don’t be like that.” Kyle says.

You stare at him in disbelief, unable to even respond. “Don’t call me babe.”

“Who, me?” You’ve never been so grateful to see Matthew before, let alone to have him slide into the seat next to you so closely. 

You smile at him, actually moving your chair closer to him-literally anything to get you further away from Kyle-and are impressed when he doesn’t even flinch. Just throws his arm around the back of your chair and returns the grin  “Well, you too.” You tease.

 Matthew grins. “Nah, babe, you know I like riling you up too much.” You can only roll your eyes at that.

“Well this has been fun, babe.” Kyle says, finally standing up, reaching out to pat your hand resting on the table.

“She told you not to call her that.” Matthew intercepts his hand, pulling yours toward him. His voice is flatter than you’ve ever heard it.

“Be fun to do this again sometime.” Kyle continues like he hasn’t heard a word Matthew said, but you can tell from the look in his eyes that what he’s going to say next is going to hurt. “You know, if your boyfriend can share you better than you could share me.”

Your jaw drops and you can feel tears spring to the corners of your eyes as he finally, finally walks away. Next to you, you feel Matthew tense, like he wants to get up and follow him, and you reach for one of his arms. “Don’t.” He pauses. “He’s not worth it.”

“He’s a real dick.” He grumbles.

“Yeah.” You say quietly. There’s nothing really to add to that that you or your friends haven’t already said and so a long moment of silence follows that admission.

“Hey.” Matthew nudges you.

“What?” You ask grumpily, reluctantly meeting his eyes.

“You’re pretty and I’m cute.” You give him a look, like get on with it. “So together we’d be Pretty Cute.” 

For once, his cheesy pick up line brings a smile to your face, turning your mood around instantly. And the second you start to smile, Matthew does as well. “There we go, there’s that smile.”

+1. Kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?

Perched on the counter of Johnny’s breakfast bar, legs dangling off, you cheer loudly as Elias sinks another cup. He throws his hands up victoriously, looking over at the paper bracket that you and Sam had spent hours working on, only for someone to splash beer all over it when they’d thrown their hands up in outrage over a ruling.

It was the Flames’ annual Beer Olympics and you were still managing to enjoy yourself, even though your elimination had come early after Noah had thrown the game because he’d spotted the girl he’s been talking to recently rolling in the door. He hadn’t even been phased when you threw your half full cup of beer at him, or when it nailed him in the back, and he still doesn’t look upset about his wet back, smile seemingly permanently fixed on his face as he continues to chat with said girl.

For your part, after elimination, you’ve become both a personal cheerleader and trash-talker. You’re an equal opportunist, you know? Someone makes a bad shot, you’re going to call them out on it.

Newly eliminated, you’re not entirely surprised when you feel a new presence by your side. It wasn’t like things had abruptly changed after the run-in with your ex at the coffee shop, but the energy was definitely different. 

Gone was the cocky grin, replaced with a softer, dimpled smile that you’d always return. The pickup lines were cheesy jokes, a thing between the two of you, said with a little bit of questioning and a tiny bit of hope as each time he waited for you to laugh.

And each time you did, enjoying the smile it brought to his face. More and more you saw the genuinely great guy he was- in fact, it was the dominating trait over how much of a pest he was, how cocky he was, how annoying he could be.

Of course, it’s possible you spoke entirely too soon on this as his first move upon coming to stand next to you is to poke you in the sides repeatedly. “Why’d you have to do me dirty like that?” He whines.

“Elbows!” You repeat simply, calling him out for the same thing you’d shouted at him earlier. 

Matthew comes around in front of you, resting his cold drink on your leg in what you can only assume is payback. “You’re wrong.” He tells you. 

“Maybe,” You say with a grin. “You’re wrong.”

“Oh I’m never wrong.” Matthew assures you, and then a familiar grin appears on his face. “In fact,you can kiss me if I’m wrong, but dinosaurs still exist, right?”

He’s waiting for your laugh, you can see it in his face. But you don’t want to, is the thing. 

So you reach forward, grabbing his face and pulling it toward yours. There’s just enough time to register the shock on it before your lips meet, but Matthew pulls his shit together enough to return a breathtaking kiss, so when you do finally pull away, you’re practically gasping for breath. 

“Um. You’re wrong.” You manage, finally.

“Don’t even.” Matthew grins, stepping forward into your thighs, and kissing you once again.

[maddiefriendlovesbilly]

If you feel up for writing more ever all I crave is Ghost angst Constantly S a d //it can have a happy or sad ending if you want I just need to agressively throw my emotions at a fiction character who is also sad//

So anon, I know its been like a few Months or something since you requested this, but here it is,,, Ghost angst!! I can’t tell you my plans because that would spoil the surprise but what I can say is: MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA

I present to you:

Once More, This Time With Feeling

Rating: PG-13 (but rating may go up), SFW for now

Ship: Ghost/Spooker

Warnings: Angst, emotional turmoil, Ghost being an idiot feelings-wise, dark/intrusive thoughts, blocking others out, next chapter may have more warnings

Summary: The P.I.E. team head out for a seemingly normal case, but things quickly spiral out of control, and Ghost ends up in quite a unique circumstance, to say the least.

Word Count: 3,516

Nothing unusual happens, before it all starts, nothing that would indicate how utterly to shit everything goes in a mere matter of hours. There are no red flags, or bad omens, or warning signs. Everything seems as normal as it can be when you’re a paranormal investigator for a living - so when the call comes in for a fairly simple job, Ghost accepts and gives the woman an ETA before shouting a quick, “We’ve got a job!” down the hall and slinging his satchel over his shoulder as he makes his way to the door. He hears a distant whoop from Spooker just before he exits, to which he rolls his eyes.

The car ride is uneventful, save for some antics with Toast’s driving license - or lack thereof. They reach the large office building a few minutes before he said they would, and the woman has a look like she’d be pleased if the situation weren’t so distressing - he’s been met with similar looks much more than one might expect. He walks over and introduces him and his team, all business, and only grimaces slightly when he introduces Spooker, though he thinks the woman might have noticed nonetheless. 

She’s mocha-skinned, a fraction taller than Ghost and perfectly kempt, with a perfectly trimmed bob and rigid posture that scream, “Inconvenience me, I dare you.” An immaculate suit and tie complete the look.

Her name is Christine Hemmingway, and she explains that she works in the office behind her as a supervisor - during a recent trip to the basement, she discovered a strange new door leading to a series of branching underground tunnels reaching lengths she can’t accurately estimate without entering them - an idea she wisely rejected outright - but, from what little she saw from the entrance, might span the entire downtown area. She heard noises, possibly talking, along with a faint ebbing glow, coming from one of the tunnels on the right, but shut the door before she could see who, or what, it was when the sounds went quiet and she heard footsteps approaching. When Ghost asks, she’s adamant the door wasn’t there before, and has replaced a water cooler and a stubby filing cabinet too short to conceal the door, both of which have disappeared completely.

Looking up at the building Ghost notes that it looks completely empty, and asks Christine if she has a way inside, to which she nods and pulls out a key card with her face on it, handing it to him while saying, “Lose this, and you’ll regret it - one, because you won’t be able to get out, and two, because you’ll have to explain to security why you’re inside a business outside office hours, and while I’m sure they’d just love to hear the story of a spooky new door in the basement, I doubt it will save you from being charged with breaking and entering.” Ghost nods and after unlocking the front door and jamming his foot in the crack, he tucks the card safely inside his bag. He hears Toast mutter something like, “Wouldn’t be the first time,” and snorts inelegantly.

Christine looks like she’s starting to rethink her decision about hiring them, so Ghost spits out something professional sounding along the lines of, “We’ll do our best to find the cause of these tunnels, you can count on us ma’am,” and it seems to work pretty well, until Colon breaks the silence with a sharp cough that sounds suspiciously like laughter. Ghost fails to suppress a side-long glance his way, and does even worse at keeping a single brow from arching in question; Colon only “coughs” again, louder this time.

For the sake of his likely rapidly declining paycheck, he just sighs and opens the door, holding it there and waving the others inside. “After you.”

The others enter and he takes the rear, letting Toast lead them towards an elevator with a “1” printed beside it. Pressing the down arrow, Spooker comments, “Nice to use a normal, functioning elevator for once, usually they’re either busted or do something crazy, like move diagonally or something, and are bringing us somewhere that’ll probably try to kill us.”

They all huff varying degrees of laughter, and Ghost replies, “I hate to burst your bubble, but I don’t know what you expected when you answered the job request, because “normal” stuff isn’t something we have an abundance of in the “paranormal investigation” line of work. It’s sort of in the name.”

Spooker shrugs and smiles at him dopily, and the elevator dings beside him, announcing its arrival as the door slides open. He flinches at the volume, smile faltering, and they quickly shuffle inside. Colon hits the ‘B’ button, cringing when it beeps too. The elevator shifts and, with a groan, begins its descent. They’re silent on the way down, apart from the occasional tapping of Toast’s foot, or the click-click of Ghost making sure his flashlight works. Spooker looks up at this, and Ghost can practically see his thoughts when he starts, and fumbles at the one clipped to his belt, mouthing “Oh!” He grabs it, looking quite pleased with himself.

Ghost feels something pool in his chest at the sight, much too fond for his liking, and when his lip twitches upwards in amusement, whatever was swelling in his chest immediately curdles. The not-quite-smile sours and congeals, writhing, until he’s left with a deep scowl and an aching where something softer once lay. Despite its unpleasantness, Ghost still finds the feeling easier to deal with; bitterness and discomfort were familiar, they kept him grounded in reality, rather than letting him get his hopes up only for them to be crushed yet again. He doesn’t know how Spooker stays so positive despite how often he’s rejected and let down, especially by Ghost - he doesn’t think he could completely bounce back from many of them, let alone do it as quickly as Spooker does.

As the elevator chimes its arrival to the basement, Ghost feels a sharp pain on his bottom lip, and swears under his breath when he realizes he’s worried his lip hard enough to draw blood. The other two are too far to hear it, but Spooker glances back from where he stands in the doorway, concerned. His eyes flick to Ghost’s lips - the bottom of which now has a small bump, and Ghost swipes his tongue over it unconsciously, tasting iron - and when he meets his eyes again Spooker seems even more worried. “Are you-” he starts, but Ghost interrupts before he can finish, responding, “It’s fine - just a cut,” and Spooker looks like he wants to point out that that isn’t what he was asking, but isn’t sure how, but it doesn’t matter because it’s shut him up for now. He slides past Spooker, deciding to just put aside the whole elevator ride for the time being - he can deal with it after they’ve completed the mission, once he’s alone. He schools his features to neutrality and makes his way across the room to where Toast and Colon are examining an old wooden door, ill-fitting in its modern surroundings. “I understand what she meant by ‘strange’ now,” he comments as he approaches.

“Yeah, definitely stands out, doesn’t it?” Colon shoots back, and rolls back onto his heels, taking in their surroundings.

“All I can really think about is all that paperwork they’re going to need to redo,” Toast interjects.

Ghost snorts, pushing past them, announcing, “Alright, let’s get this shit over with,” and gripping the rusty handle and turning it. He swings open the door to reveal an empty, narrow tunnel, too long for his flashlight’s beam to reach very far ahead, with archways presumably leading to similar tunnels. Spooker, being the last one in, shoves a nearby chair into the gap between the door and frame to keep it open, just in case.

They make their way down the main tunnel, shining their lights down the branches as they pass, every once in a while coming across a room, which they poke their head into, or an iron door - often locked, each with a small, barred window to see inside, and most leading to another seemingly identical tunnel, some complete dead ends, others to (sometimes totally barren) rooms - with no apparent rhyme or reason to their placement. Something about it all plants a growing seed of dread in the pit of his stomach, but he can’t place what it is that bothers him so much. None of these things are unusual to see in their investigations, and are all pretty by-the-book as entities’ lairs go, but maybe it’s the way it’s all laid out - there’s no practical way for them to search every single tunnel, that would take days, maybe weeks, so there’s no real way to know what to expect, and the door placement is so sporadic that it’s impossible to tell if something is locked because it’s important, or just another meaningless path to who-knows-where; maybe it’s that they’ve been walking for at least fifteen minutes and nothing has changed, other than the fact that he can’t see the door anymore, just a wall of darkness at their backs. There aren’t any lights, though Ghost does spot an empty sconce every so often, and Ghost isn’t afraid of the dark by any means, nor is he claustrophobic, but he can feel the darkness behind him like hands on his back, and the tunnel is carved just wide enough to almost fit two people side by side, with flawless smooth stone on all sides, and a ceiling that arcs just above Toast’s head at its peak, so close that Ghost worries it might come crashing down any moment. He doesn’t even know if these are even actual tunnels in the ground, or if they’re in another dimension, or between them - and he’d rather avoid repeating that experience, thank you very much.

Glancing around, the others don’t seem to be any more on alert than they usually are on missions, so he’s probably just overthinking it - but that explanation does little to quell the panic rising in his chest, which only grows larger, filling the space his lungs need to expand. He realizes he’s chewing on his lip again when the cut stings from being reopened. He digs his nails into his palm to bring himself back to the present, but the hands on his back have morphed into something colder, darker, and he can’t focus when, logically, he knows there’s nothing behind him but an empty tunnel and eventually an old door, but every instinct in his body is screaming that something is very, very wrong, and they need to leave right now, but he can't even tell if there’s still an available escape because the tunnel is so completely void of light and there’s nothing he can do about it.

He doesn’t see Colon take out his detector, and clearly jumps about a foot in the air when it shatters the silence with a shrill beep - and just when did it become so deathly quiet that the only sounds are their footsteps on the smooth, stone floor? - and when they look at him like he’s grown a second head he laughs awkwardly and says, “Warn a guy next time!”

Colon takes it at face value, and apologizes before turning back to the beeping machine in his hand; Toast gives him a look of “everything okay?” to which he shrugs, and Toast nods in understanding, probably planning on asking him about it later. Spooker seems unconvinced though, and while he doesn’t say anything, he steps just a fraction closer to Ghost, and maybe by doing so he’s admitting it’s not really fine, that nothing is, but nonetheless, he doesn’t move away. It’s not obvious with the close confines of the tunnel, but Spooker notices, and he smiles a little, but it’s tinged with sadness and something else Ghost can’t name.

That’s when the detector’s beeping spikes, turning frantic.

Everyone is on alert immediately, but Toast is the first one to motion in the direction of what sounds like approaching footsteps, bare on the cold stone floor. They all turn around to face whatever’s coming down the passage, the beeping steadily increasing as the footsteps get louder. A pale foot inches into the beam of one of their flashlights, quickly followed by another, and with it, the rest of the short, petite girl, a mop of tangled black hair hiding most of her face and slim shoulders. Her white dress drags behind her in chunks, shredded and stained from dragging across the ground.

Ghost feels his eyes widen, and realizes he’s stumbled back, pressing into Spooker, who’s practically holding him up by the shoulders. Through the strands of hair he can see a single eye staring out at the bodies crowding the narrow hall, and he knows it’s stupid, but he can’t shake the feeling that it’s staring straight into him, even though she hasn’t glanced up once yet. He’s pretty sure he’s shaking now, and can only hope that Spooker hasn’t noticed, for the sake of his pride.

The ragged figure stops just inside the beam, finally looking up. She meets Ghost’s stare, and holds his gaze - they stay that way, matching each other in a silent battle of ‘who will crack first?’

“K-” he starts, “Katrina?”

Spooker shifts behind him, Ghost thinks he might be staring at him too. He doesn’t break away to check.

Katrina says nothing, only stares.

He takes a quivering step forward, feels Spookers hands fall from his shoulders, reaches out. Katrina still doesn’t look away, but she also doesn’t move away, so he takes another step towards her, then another, then another, until he’s right in front of her, hand merely an inch away from making contact. The flashlight in his hands quakes violently in his death-grip, but he drops a hand onto her shoulder, which is surprisingly solid. This seems to break Katrina from her trance though, and she screeches - not unlike a banshee, Ghost thinks distantly - clawing at him. 

He veers back, not quite quick enough to avoid the talons that just catch his cheek, leaving two shallow claw marks behind. The other three behind him break from their stupors and begin shouting, pushing themselves bodily between the two of them in an effort to protect him. Spooker makes it his job to confirm that Ghost is somewhat okay, before turning back to face the enemy in front of them.

Ghost’s cheek oozes blood, but not enough to really be worried, so he just holds one sleeve up to the cheek, letting it soak up the sticky liquid. The others have their guns trained on Katrina, but he can’t manage to make himself do the same, so he just ends up standing at the back, watching. He feels like a coward. Bile still threatens to claw its way out of his throat as he stands there numbly.

Behind her ratty tangles, she catches Ghost’s eyes once more, before disappearing altogether. He hears himself sobs her name under his breath, feels his legs wobble beneath him, but somehow manages to stay standing, despite the sickening dread swimming in the pit of his stomach. It doesn’t last long though, because soon, the group of them are hit with a wave of vertigo so strong, they fall to their knees collectively. Ghost chokes on his nausea. He squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the swimming feeling, and when he opens them again, the long, narrow hallway is gone, replaced instead by an inky black room.

He fumbles blindly at his belt, whipping out his flashlight and flicking it on. He pivots, but his flashlight quickly collides with an obstacle - one that responds with a sharp “Ack! Dude-!” in Spooker’s voice.

“Shit!” Ghost spits, stumbling back - not very far, mind you, being that he hits the wall behind him not two steps back - and proceeds to shine his light directly into Spooker’s eyes until he shields them. “Jeez-Jesus, dude, Jesus.” He finally lowers the light, dropping into a crouch. “I gotta-I can’t, man. Shit!” He takes in a shaky gulp of air and tries not to scream.

Spooker probably has that look he gets when he’s trying to play it cool and seem unconcerned - but just ends up looking confused instead - because Ghost can hear it in his voice when he says, “Are y-?” He clears his throat. “Do you uh-need me to-er take care of that scratch? It could get infected if we don’t uh, do that. Yeah.”

“It would probably help to find some light,” he says, with more bite to it than either of them were expecting, “Y’know, so we don’t blind each other in this pitch-ass-black room?”

Spooker wisely does not comment on that statement, simply takes out his own flashlight and sweeps the beam around the room, eventually coming to rest beside Ghost. He looks up, realizes his head is inches away from the door handle, and sighs wearily before rocking forward and up into a standing position, opening the door.

He’s sure that neither of them are expecting to be met with a completely foreign corridor, still narrow, but seemingly lived in, at least in the past. Dim lights flicker overhead, implanted in a tile ceiling, a stark contrast to the empty sconces and carved stone of the previous tunnel.

They glance at each other once, before shuffling into the hall. Ghost sees three other doors lining the hall - one on the end and two on the opposite wall - and makes his way to the closest one. He moves to try the knob, but is impeded by Spooker catching the hood of his jacket and dragging him back, tutting, “Nope! We’re dealing with your injuries before we do anything else!”

Ghost feels himself pouting, and quickly changes his expression into one more neutral before turning around; Spooker seems to see it nonetheless, because he placates him by saying, “It’ll only sting for a second, promise!”

He pulls him to the ground, and Ghost crosses his legs, resting his uninjured cheek on his hand. He’s very much not sulking right now, even if Toast would tease him for it if he were present. He especially doesn’t glare at the alcohol as Spooker pulls it out. He does hiss as Spooker dabs at his cut, and he can see how much Spooker is struggling to not roll his eyes.

Finally, he’s allowed to do actually important things, and walks to the door, gripping the handle. It rattles, staunchly denying him entry, so he moves on. The next one does the same, and he moves to the one at the end of the hallway, which thankfully swings open with a grating creak, revealing a dimmer, but otherwise identical hallway to the one behind him. He repeats the process, with the exact same result as the previous section. He glances back at Spooker before pushing open the door at the end, to reveal a slightly dimmer version.

Again, he tries the doors. Again, the one at the end is the only one that opens. The next hallway is slightly darker than the last.

Ghost’s stomach churns nervously, and he glances once more at Spooker, whose expression is starting to match his own.

The light quickly diminishes, and soon enough they’re flicking their flashlights back on. “Crap-” he hears behind him, just before their lights flicker once, twice, and die simultaneously. A familiar giggle echoes throughout the small corridor, and Ghost shivers, moving minutely closer to where he last saw Spooker. Ghost shakes himself and fumbles toward the end of the hall, using the walls to guide himself. “Try the other doors, I’ll try the one at the end of the hall.” He hits the end of the hall a little harder than he meant to, and is a little glad for the dark, even if it can’t hide the soft ‘thud’ that bounces through the room. The door rattles in its frame, unbudging, so Ghost throws over his shoulder, “This one’s stuck, what about the others?”

“No luck over he-Woah!” A slam ricochets throughout the small place - presumably the door meeting the wall in a less than pleasant fashion. “You good?” Ghost manages to get out without his worry peeking through, falling just short of nonchalant.

“Yeah...yeah, I’m alright, just caught me off guard. Let’s go.” They hobble through the doorway, which slams shut behind them. Ghost’s mind swims with deja vu for a second, but he can’t place the reason for it, so he decides to put it aside for the moment.

Ghost thinks later that if he had to choose the moment everything truly started going to shit, he might choose this one. Like the calm before the storm, or the eye of a hurricane, or some other cliché crap.

Either way, the soft click of the door locking behind them feels like an omen of things to come.

Or maybe it’s the axe swinging directly toward Spooker’s head.

[aforrestofstuff]

I’ve been looking at your posts for a while now and I love your Headcanons so much! I only made an acc today just to thank you for making these! Also I’ve also seen your A03 acc and read your fanfics there and I think you’re a great writer! I wrote a huge comment on one of your stories just rambling about how much I like your tumblr and works but I don’t think it sent cause I don’t have an A03 :( today I’m 15 and I was wondering if you’d make Headcanons for how you think S Class heroes would celebrate their birthdays (if that’s alright of course I don’t wanna make you do anything you don’t wanna) and also just a question, why don’t you do PPP headcanons at all? He’s an S Class Hero and I think he’s the only hero you skip out on. Other then that, keep making these headcanons cause they are great and inspire me for my own OPM crack storie book I created (Random One Punch Man Crack Fanfictions on Wattpad i only wrote one story there and only said it if you’re interested)

Thank you thank you thank you so much. I’ve already sent you a dm but I just wanted to say it again because I’m literally vibrating with happiness. Happy birthday <3.

Birthday Headcanons:

Terrible Tornado: Sticks a candle in a store-bought cupcake and calls it a day. She’ll go get her nails and hair done, buy herself a new dress, and just spend the entire time relaxing. Fubuki used to throw her parties when they were kids but she doesn’t really expect that from her anymore.

Silverfang: His disciples used to get together and throw him a surprise party every year. However, ever since the Garou Incident, Charanko will take it upon himself to fill the void somewhat and scrape together enough money to buy a cake (or the ingredients to make one) and a small gift. Silverfang can go both ways: he likes people but he can also be quiet and reflective. So, he has a great time regardless of whether or not he has a party and spends the day enjoying nature, meditating, and being thankful for living as long as he has.

Atomic Samurai: He’s not antisocial by any stretch of the word but he prefers to celebrate this day only with those closest to him. He and his disciples do something new every year and it’s always grounded and casual. Sometimes they’ll all go out to drink, sometimes Okama and Iaian will prepare a feast, sometimes they’ll have lighthearted competitions on who’s the best swordsmaster (with weird contests like who can balance their sheaths on their head the longest and who can catch the hilt of their blade after doing a backflip 3 consecutive times). Good times all around. However, if someone mentions Atomic Samurai’s age, he will sass them to oblivion.

Child Emperor: He doesn’t really plan to do anything out of the ordinary. It’s mostly just business as usual on his birthday. But after meeting Zombieman, however, he practically gets dragged out of the lab and into something special each year. Whether it’s a horror movie marathon, a late-night drive to catch a glittering view of the city, or just chilling and stuffing themselves on sweets, it makes Zombieman a little sad to see wasted youth knowing his life (and age) is as fucked up as it is so he tries to make the kid have at least a little fun the best he can. Child Emperor always has a great time and he now sees the importance of valuing youth and no longer shows shame in pausing his work and enjoying himself every once and a while.

Metal Knight: When he wakes up on his birthday, his alarm clock plays a little tune. That’s about it. He sees no real importance behind age or youth or seniority because as long as he’s at his height of intellect, nothing else matters. Gotta build them robots. It’s business as usual.

King: Holy shit. Shut the blinds. Lock the doors. Silence the phones. It’s game time, baby. Twenty-four hours of blue screen madness. He pigs out on chips, soda, buys himself a cake, and absolutely revels in solitude. He calls his mom each year and they talk for hours on end. She tells him how proud she is of him being a kickass hero and killing monsters and he dies a little inside each time but he loves her nonetheless and keeps up the facade for her sake. She sends him a card with a few coupons and a love-filled note about how much she adores him. He nearly cries each year upon receiving it.

Zombieman: He buys the best cigars he can find, cooks himself a massive T-bone, drinks an entire six-pack of beer, and reclines while watching crime movies. He wears sweatpants, polishes his weaponry, plays Mötley Crüe loud enough for his neighbors to yell at him for it, and just has a great time all by himself. He doesn’t really like parties or get-togethers and even sometimes has to take a break from Child Emperor. This is his day to recharge his social battery and sleep for seventeen hours. This is his day to get absolutely wasted on expensive alcohol and accidentally hotbox his own house. This is his day.

Drive Knight: Pretty much the same as Metal Knight. Whenever the clock strikes midnight on his birthday, a little tune plays in his processing unit and that’s about the end of it.

Pig God: Every restaurant in the damn country has a special on his birthday. He just goes around collecting free food, taking pictures with fans, and eats until he can’t eat anymore (which is a lot). The restaurants he visits have pictures of him eating their food on the walls; he’s become a bit of a indication that if he visits a somewhere to eat, the food’s gotta be bomb as hell. He doesn’t really do anything other than that. He doesn’t really strike up conversation or anything, he just eats in silent contentment and that’s enough for everyone to have a good time.

Superalloy Darkshine: He’s a fan favorite as well. Social media will be blowing up with birthday messages, he’ll be trending on whatever the OPM universe equivalent of Twitter is, and he’ll waste no time going out to meet his fans and spreading birthday happiness. He’ll eat cake, drink with strangers, share laughs and smile without stopping. People will give him little gifts and free food and he accepts it all graciously. Everyone’s invited. Good times all around.

Watchdog Man: This is one of the few days of the year in which he takes the day off from protecting City Q. He’ll just sleep a full twenty-four hours and resume his duty the next day like clockwork each year. Sometimes passerby will leave him little gifts on his podium like meats and dog treats but he doesn’t really take any of it since he’s really particular about what he eats.

Flashy Flash: On this day, he spends time reflecting on how much he’s improved since last year and adopts an extra-vigorous training regimen for the next twenty-four hours. One year, he climbed a mountain in sub-zero temperatures. Another, he ran across a saltwater lake without breaking the surface tension of the water. He spends it alone, occasionally has a drink, and that’s about it. Sometimes he’ll go out to have a nice dinner but that’s only on years he believes he’s deserved it.

Demon Cyborg: He doesn’t really care about his birthday. This makes Doctor Kuseno kind of sad because he believes that Genos is still a kid who deserves to enjoy his birthday like one. So, he does what he can to make the day somewhat special while also pertaining to what Genos could want. This is very hard because Genos never outright says he wishes for anything and that means Kuseno has to do a lot of guesswork. It varies year to year, but the best gift he’s ever given Genos was the sense of taste so the kid could eat birthday cake and enjoy it. Genos isn’t too fond of sweets, he much prefers fruits over cakes, but nevertheless, he was so happy to get one step closer to humanity that something malfunctioned in his head and his hands wouldn’t stop shaking for a whole week.

Metal Bat: Go hard or go home. This fuckin kid pulls an all-nighter with Zenko on the weekend of his birthday to stay inside, build a pillow fort, and play video games. They order pizza, do prank calls, play fighting games, and when the sun comes out they get a couple hours of sleep before riding out again at the height of a sugar high to go to the local carnival (he’s a summer baby) and spend a paycheck’s worth of cash. Once they come home, they collapse in Bad’s bed together, curl up, and fall asleep to some movies.

Tanktop Master: He and the Tanktop Gang have an all-out birthday bash. Everyone and their grandma is invited. There’s food, alcohol, and sports playing on the television in the host’s house (each of them take turns every year). The first few hours of partying, everyone’s having lighthearted fun and watching sports and drinking lightly (Tanktoppers drink responsibly). After that, everyone kind of calms down and they all gather around in the living room and sit on the floor together and just talk about what a great year it is to be alive. They catch up, share stories, eat snacks, and wish Tanktop Master the happiest of birthdays. He absolutely adores spending time with his friends and gives a toast to everyone and their hard work. After that, he goes home and calls his mom before going to bed.

Puri-Puri Prisoner: He and his boyfriend share a slice of birthday cake from the prison cafeteria with a single candle stuck into it. His boyfriend gives him crochet and knitting lessons, they and the other prisoners dance to some music, and the guards give him a pat on the back along with some birthday wishes. That’s about it. There’s only so much he can do in prison, but he makes it work with what he has and has the time of his life nevertheless. Angel Hugs all around.

And to answer your question about PPP, I straight up just forgot he existed akshshshs. I’ll be brainstorming some stuff about him soon. Love you lots 💞💞💞💕

[bettsfic]

I would LOVE to hear your thoughts on breaking bad if you feel like sharing!! You're done with it, right?

oh my god thank you for asking. you have no idea how much i want to talk about this show but i’m running in a decade late with starbucks and feel weird just cold posting about it. i just finished the whole series and i watched el camino twice, and i’ve also been catching up on bts stuff and digging through a bit of the meta commentary of the time. i haven’t started BCS but i plan to soon.

first off, when i started watching the show, i realized i actually had seen a bit of it. it turns out i saw the first 3 seasons back in 2011, but it was shortly after my dad had died of cancer, and my boyfriend insisted on watching it. i remember telling him that it made me uncomfortable because it was too close to home. my dad had cancer for 4 years, and mom was going through bankruptcy because of all the medical bills. my boyfriend didn’t care. he made me keep watching, and i guess we broke up before we got to s4. or maybe there were only 3 seasons out at the time. either way, i set it down in 2011 and vowed not to watch it. 

then a month or so ago, i finished westworld 3, got obsessed with aaron paul, and decided to give brba another go.

(this gets personal. so putting the rest under a cut!)

so s1 and 2 are solidly okay. the show seemed like it was finding its feet and didn’t know what it wanted to be, a comedy or a tragedy, but i know that feeling and sometimes i really like when stories toe that divide, so i didn’t mind. s1 and 2, i was mostly marveling over how utterly beautiful aaron paul is. my god.

s3 has some major pacing issues (monologues! so many monologues!!), but the show starts to really come into itself and figure out What It Is. i skipped over a lot of stuff after reading wiki summaries, mostly that just seemed like suffer porn and which i knew would dwell a lot in discomfort. then we get to the episode where jesse monologues at walt about how walt ruined his life, and i was just sobbing. i don’t think a tv show has ever made me cry like that. i was ruined.

even if the writing of those seasons isn’t the best, the direction and performances are some of the best i’ve ever seen in television. aaron paul and bryan cranston could read a phonebook at each other and make it compelling.

the entire time, i just wanted jesse and walt to get on each other’s sides and work together. i was in it for the loyalty kink. i had no idea there would be so much angst, and i was veering toward the point of giving up. but i was assured repeatedly by friends that it would get better.

and it did. walt saves jesse. walt fights for jesse. jesse fights for walt. THEY WORK TOGETHER. and more importantly, their relationship starts to get so fucked up, so codependent, so toxic. and not in the way shows usually portray fucked-up relationships, like totally oblivious to its own toxicity. this show leans in. it seems to know the entire time exactly the psychological connotations its evoking, and it does it intentionally. and i really value it for that. 

s4 is where the show went from “pretty good” to “holy shit.” i’ve never seen a more accurate and clear portrayal of a narcissist. my triggers are many, varied, and wildly inconsistent, but i was in a state of being mildly triggered for days, and i really appreciated that feeling, that a story could push me that far and make me reflect as deeply as it did. i tend to go wild over anything that can make me feel something, even if it’s bad. most stuff i read and watch just kind of numbs and distracts me. this show wasn’t an escape so much as an assault. and i loved it for that.

my dad was a narcissist, and every interaction between jesse and walt or skyler and walt brought up a thousand memories of things my dad said and did. at one point, when walt is really at his worst, i think around skyler telling him she’s waiting for his cancer to come back, i remember thinking, “if walt were a little bit meaner, he would be just like my dad.”

and oh boy, that thought fucked me up. my dad was worse than the most believably evil character in the history of television. i got diagnosed with ptsd in 2017 and have spent these past 3 years more or less fighting that diagnosis, thinking, “it wasn’t that bad!” because my dad wasn’t physically violent. at least not frequently. and i’ve never been able to articulate what exactly my dad did that was so bad, or how insidious his behavior was. he didn’t cook meth obviously, but he had that false disenfranchisement attitude, that resentfulness that walt has toward his family for taking his greatness from him, that regret at not being more than he was. 

but seeing my dad’s behavior playing out on screen, not just accurately but calling it out for exactly as fucked up and toxic as it was -- and how it affects, destroys, all the other characters -- it may have been hard to watch, but i’ve never felt so validated. i finally feel like i’m not faking it anymore or making it up or being dramatic. or, as my dad liked to say, “too sensitive.” i’ve only ever been able to write about my dad in sections, put pieces of him in different characters, because to put him fully into anything, fiction or non, feels like it would completely eject a reader from the story. brba showed me there’s a way to do it, and now i feel inspired to maybe tell that story finally. 

so i’m intensely grateful to vince gilligan for making a believable, empathetic (not sympathetic) narcissist, and writing his long and steady decline into evil. on a storytelling level, it was extremely satisfying to watch, because most writers don’t have the patience to stick with evil characters, or really get into their psychology. on a personal level, i feel like i’ve worked through a lot of stuff while watching it, and i feel like a major weight has been lifted. 

a lot of mass media is made by people who are just taking jobs and don’t really care about what they’re doing. it’s clear that everyone involved is just looking for a paycheck. but i got the sense the entire time i was watching brba that everyone really loved and believed in what they were doing. there was a carefulness to the story and a sensitivity in it that kept me glued the entire time. 

and i won’t even get started with el camino because that’s a whole different rant, involving how in absolute awe i am of aaron paul, but i loved it so so much, and i’m 10k into a post-EC fic that i’m hoping to post in a week or so. (unrelated but i just watched a table reading of a s5 brba episode and aaron paul just WRECKS himself during it. everyone else is kind of panning their lines, but he’s just sitting there SOBBING. i’m glad he won the emmys he deserved for his performance. if anyone wants to come talk to me about aaron paul, i am HERE)

we’ll see how i feel in a year, but as of right now, brba in my top 5 favorite (drama) shows of all time. it’s really rare that i both 1) think show/book/movie is extremely good and 2) get obsessed enough to write fic about it. usually i only write fic about stuff that has unmet potential, and i feel compelled to fix it or use the characters for something else. but in the case of brba, i’m more interested in expansion and homage.

anyway i’m probably going to watch el camino again tonight. happy to take more asks about brba!

[nicnacsnonsense]

Yes I could spend $100 to join your MLM or I could instead use that money to buy 100 Fantasy 5 lottery tickets. (Fantasy 5 is a draw lottery similar to Powerball or Mega Millions, but on a state level and with smaller jackpots — typically in the 60k to 200k range — but better odds.)

Pros of joining the MLM:

Getting a network of new coworkers to support my new venture

If we ignore the factors out of my control that affect my odds of success — primarily how early in the life of the company I joined, but also how big my natural market, e.g. friends, family, and followers on social media, is — and simply take the percentage of people who lose money in an MLM and use that as an indicator of how likely I am to succeed, I am 4.5 times more likely to earn money in an MLM, .06% (from the FTC website, see table on page 16), than I am to win the jackpot in Fantasy 5, .013% (numbers are from AZ lottery)

Assuming I do beat the odds and make it big in an MLM, that is an ongoing paycheck rather than a one time payout.

Pros to the lottery

While reports of time spent working vary wildly between distributors, and even among different comments made by the same distributor, the minimum seems to be a few hours every week, going up to an even exceeding 50 hours a week. I can go online and buy 100 lottery tickets in about 5 minutes. If I lose, then that’s all the time I spend ever. I’m unfamiliar with the exact process for claiming the prize if I win, but I assume it can’t take more than an hour or two, and that’s only one time and only if I win.

Fantasy 5 picks every day; within 24 hours I will know if I was successful or not. There’s no way of knowing if or when I’ll become successful with an MLM, and I will have to continue spending time and money on the MLM in the meanwhile.

The lottery doesn’t require, expect, or even “recommend” you continue to spend money each month. I can buy new tickets for each new drawing if I want to, but when and how much is entirely up to my discretion, and any tickets I buy today will not impact the potential return on tickets bought yesterday or tomorrow.

The amount of money I am paying in is clear, $1 per ticket, and the value of what I get out is also clear, a cash prize worth a specific dollar amount, so it’s easy for me to see if I’ve gained money or lost it.

I don’t risk alienating my friends and family by constantly harassing them to buy tickets to the lottery as well — nobody with the lottery is pressuring me to do that and the potential benefits for me if I do are so minuscule, it wouldn’t be worth the bother.

If I win the lottery, the lottery is not going to pressure me to spend all the money on luxury items and showing off a certain lifestyle to convince others to play the lottery.

If I decide to stop spending money on lottery tickets at any time, nobody from the lottery is going to pressure me to continue to do so anyway or ostracize and be cruel to me when I refuse.

If I don’t make any money playing the lottery, no one is going to tell me it was my fault that I failed to do so.

If I do win money, the people who lost money to make that happen walked into the situation knowing they were gambling and that was the most likely possibility, not pursuing the false hope of a great income opportunity.

I am not paying the lottery so I can work for them.

There are other cash prizes available when you play the lottery. Most relevantly in this case, there is a $500 prize. There is a 2.5% chance of me winning that, in which case I will not have lost money on my $100 ticket purchase. That means that while I’m 4.5 times as likely to not lose money in an MLM as I am to win the jackpot, I am 250 times more likely to make money off the lottery as I am an MLM.

 So my choices are to spend more time, effort, and ultimately money, or spend less time, effort, and money for a significantly greater chance of success. Huh. Tough one.

[barryandcamshow]

Putting the socialism in social contract

I’ll be the first to admit that I can’t believe we are doing what we are doing. I’ve lived in it for a month now, and I still cannot believe it. I was on my phone, waiting for a flight at Orlando International back on February 28, when someone asked me how bad I thought this would be – and I brushed it off.

I said it then, and I’ll say it now; I’m not terribly afraid of this virus, but it’s people’s reactions to it that are terrifying.

In the weeks to come we all watched the foundational blocks of our society removed from the structure one at a time. Schools, closed. Businesses, shuttered. Americans isolated and alone. Some states ordering them home, some states advising it, hordes of nattering neighbors demanding it.

I don’t think the politics of this are worth discussing much. Some time, way down the road we’ll know what happened when, and I think there will be plenty of blame to go around. Right now, I tell people that the only way over this is through, so I’m complying with the guidelines for April, and I plan to start picking up the pieces in May. However many there are left.

How did we get here? At what point, and on whose authority did the United States decide that the only way to ride out this crisis was to squash society. Who made the decision that we would upend the at-large social contract? Because that’s what we’ve done.

Everything has risk. When I get on the highway I’m moving at high speeds with unknown people all around me. I’m trusting their health, skill, quality of their vehicle, level of impairment and overall judgment. If they fail, they have a good chance of killing me. But I accept that risk. If I’m fearful for my own health, or my vehicle is inadequately insured or appointed, or frankly if I’m just scared, I don’t have to get on the highway.

In this case there those who are highly susceptible to having very bad outcomes from COVID-19. I know some of them, and I worry for them. I’ve encouraged them to lay low. I’m happy to shop for them and leave groceries outside, and I don’t want anything to happen to them. If life is a highway, I’m asking them to stay in the rest area for a bit.

In this case though, the government has decided that there are people on the highway for whom it is not safe, and therefore all traffic must be halted. In fact, they’ve lied to you with varying severity by telling you that what you are stopping now can simply be restarted later. The truth is that it can’t. We’ve made massive decisions, the consequences of which were scarcely considered, and the end of which few of us can grasp. This is like a tornado ripping through the night – it’s scary, but you won’t see the breadth of the damage until morning.

As I write this I know of more than a handful of small business owners, who employed dozens of people, and see no way forward. I know of hundreds of people who have lost paychecks, and maybe their careers. The damage from this will run deep, and some of it will be irreversible. As unemployment surges to greater and greater multiples of Depression era despair, the chances of coming back are limited, and the results will leave human catastrophes in their thick wake.

The new social contract essentially appears to require that if it isn’t safe for one to go out, then dammit it can’t be safe for any of us. If one person may have a bad outcome, we should act like we all will. It’s the very underpinning of socialism – if everyone gets the bare minimum, no one can be left behind. It is the sharp edge of a guillotine that, with the slightest hint of the consent of the governed, has chopped the head off so many American families’ dream.

Was it wrong? Maybe. It certainly wasn’t right.

We’re already talking about the next stimulus, when the last spending package from Washington barely moved the needle for most impacted Americans, and cost FOUR TRILLION DOLLARS! For that kind of outlay we simply could have paid every at risk person to stay home!

And while increasingly ornery executives at all levels of government, drunk on the power of their new position as safety officer for the masses, make new rules – some of them will be shocked when they see the condition of municipal budgets after nearly a full quarter without economic activity. Teachers and firefighters don’t get paid by the tooth fairy. A society locked in its own homes is a society that can’t afford a damn thing.

At some point, Americans have to face the reality that the current conditions are not sustainable. I’m on board until the end of April. After that, there would be so little left to return to that it almost doesn’t matter. This new social contract deserves to be understood, and only go forward with the informed consent of the governed - not with fear of the masses who were warned of millions dying and assured little consequence to pausing.

The consequence is a rolling humanitarian disaster that the media and government have largely ignored. When the new unemployment numbers hit, and millions more of your fellow Americans are dropped in to the abyss, you at least shouldn’t be shocked. You should know that it is a consequence of a new, un-debated social contract. A suicide pact. You better decide if you’re on board.

[tyrias-library]

Thought I'd try a different type of alternate universe

The Twitch Streamer AU

Subtitle: One small change can make a huge difference

I’m Kazukoh, and I guess you can say I’m a leynet celebrity. Despite being born with a metabolism-afflicting chronic illness, I’ve managed to blossom in my own right.

I guess you can say much like another prodigy born a season or so after me.

Though outside of my diagnosis, my life was fairly average. My Grandma Miimii was horribly injured during a lab accident, and we thought she wouldn’t make it, but she pulled through. If anything, I owe my success to her for being there for me when Mom and Dad can’t.

Went to college, Dynamics, specifically, did an internship with Terranexic after my graduation, as my revolutionary power source that was my final project had all of the Golemancy Krewe’s eyes on me. I remained with Terranexic after my internship as a lab assistant until a position in a relatively small Krewe opened up.

The Krewe I joined was one that made custom Golems for people who were less versed in Golemancy-or were physically unable to put them together. We occasionally also got bulk orders of standard issue Golems, since we could put together simple ones in a relatively quick manner.

It was on one of those bulk-order days that Golemancer Klikk asked the Krewe Chief if we could use the projection-screen terminal to play some videos in the background, since today’s bulk order was extremely simple. Our Krewe Chief, being the generous leader she is, approved. Klikk navigated to a leynet site called “Stream.Ear”, and put on a Calamity tournament, between a handful of Statics-backed teams. Given that I enjoyed playing videogames in my spare time, I thought perhaps I could do such a thing.

~~~

Headset, check. Terminal, check. Motobox and capture card, check. Layout. Check. Leycam, check. Going live now.

“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, coming at you live with Super Adventure Box! Yes, folks, the home edition of Super Adventure Box, with 8 completed worlds-but only normal difficulty! I’m not just going to beat it, I’m going to attempt to beat it as fast as possible!

And beat the game, I did, since I’ve been playing for as long as I can remember. While it wasn’t even close to a top 100 on leynet records, it was a fairly decent time.

“And that’s that! Sorry it’s so short, I’m just here to test the waters, but I’ll be back tomorrow night! May all your games be winners, and may all your theories be sound!”

~~~

I’ve gotten quite into the groove regarding content releasing, especially now that I have affiliate status and can get money from this. While my job with this Krewe has good pay and decent benefits, I often allot most of my paycheck to an emergency funds account, given my medical issues, so there isn’t much left for leisure. I do have time for leisure, my Krewe is off 3 days a week, but which days vary depending on scheduling and tasks, but I stream all 7 days a week because I find it fun. I even have a schedule-at least for 6 days. Fun Fridays are party games with my viewers, Speedrun Saturdays are speedrunning games I grew up with, or have played a ton of-not trying for Tyrian records, but just for personal bests, Storytime Sundays are for visual novels, Mondays…I’m not sure yet, so I mainly just play what I feel like that day, Teamwork Tuesday is cooperative Leynet games, Wildcard Wednesdays I pick 3 random games and let my viewers vote on them, then play that for an hour before the process starts again, and finally, ‘Thunder’ Thursday, which is competitive leynet games.

What I’m about to dictate happens on one of those Thursdays.

A viewer of mine gifted me “Tyrian All-Star Battle”, a PVP game where you play as major figures in Tyria’s history, heroic or villainous…well most figures. One great hero has not enough records of their battle style, and the Pact Commander declined their role. Destiny’s Edge and Dragon’s Watch are in, however, as are many high level Pact members from recent history. I tend to alternate between Taimi, Snaff, and Dragon’s Watch!Rytlock, depending on if we need a support, DPS, or tank, respectively. You play in teams of 6, you have a main and secondary of each role (I often play secondary since my mains can take other roles if needed), and winning depends on different win conditions-either most points after a set time limit, or last team standing after a limited set of lives.

I chose Taimi for this set of matches, since I was playing with a team I signed on with, called Damsels in Dynamics, which is all female Asura streamers whom graduated from Dynamics, and we commonly play a team of all Asura heroes-and we already had a Snaff. My other teammates were Zojja, Warmaster Efut, Agent Zrii, and Steward Gixx. Our first matchup was against Team IGD-Inquest Gaming Division, a meta-team for the meta-krewe, though thankfully this was just six of them. They were playing Kudu, Kuda, Teyo, Tazza, Vebis, and Frizz. Kudu’s player was also a streamer, known as “TheBloodyDirector”, and was pretty much the ‘face’ of IGD. We were completely destroyed. TBD took out all of the Snaff and Zojja players’ lives alone, thanks to Teyo’s player taking out Gixx’s player early on. I was pretty much the only one healing, and since Taimi is not a high tier support, led to Zrii’s player getting wiped fast as well. It was down to me, and Efut’s player. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see my chat was blowing up to the point that my own fans could barely even speak. While I was trying to figure out the chaos, my last life was taken. Efut’s player struggled to hold on while I sourced this bomb. It was not a raid at all-TBD’s fans decided to swarm my chat. And he did nothing. This. Means. War.

Every day I would check his channel, and it seems he streams on Mondays and Thursdays, but only plays competitive games on Thursdays (Mondays seem to be clearing single player feats in said games). Every Thursday, I’d rally viewers to help defeat him as one of the matches/games of the night. And every time, I would fail. The closest I got was 4 members defeated before I, as the last one standing, was wiped out, and yes, this was in Tyrian All-Star Battle. That seems to be the game we usually battle in, though we’ve occasionally duked it out in others.

~~~

Another Thursday, another battle. I checked TheBloodyDirector’s stream…and turns out, he’s not streaming today. Instead, he’s hosting another Inquest member. I didn’t catch her name, but she’s advertising doing something called a ‘mukbang’…but she’s just slowly eating a single cup of instant noodles while doing paperwork. I then looked up what a mukbang really was….and immediately hit paydirt. People watch others eat monstrous amounts of food? Sign me up! Now I know what to do on Mondays!-well that, and social eating, depending on my funds during the week. But for now, I’ll just play some casual competitive matches with my viewers.

~~~

Monday came, and I had some extra money stored up, so I ordered 25 family sized buckets of Metrica Fried Moa, sides included, some curtains to obscure the hospital related things in my room, and a fancy leycamera. Hung up the curtains, my multipurpose Golem (A project from my spare time that transforms into various mounts, a hoverchair, or a Scruffy-like Golem) carrying the food, and I installed the leycam, running a quick test with it. The test was perfect, let’s go.

“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, and now I know what I’m doing on Mondays. Every Monday is food related! Normally this’ll be social eating, but today I’m doing something special. Some days, like today, will be mukbangs.” I then pulled each and every one of the buckets and sides closer. “I’ve got 25 buckets of Metrica Fried Moa here, and I’m going to eat ALL OF IT. RIGHT HERE. ON STREAM.”

I was shocked. People were HYPED in chat. Some people were worried that I’d fall ill, some others were concerned about my appearance, but nobody was mean. Most people were hyped up to see me eat all this food, and I sure gave them such. I ate ALL of the food on stream, engaging with viewers all the way. However, if anyone asked how I could do this, I kept it a well-guarded secret.

~~~

TBD wasn’t streaming this week, so I organized a spontaneous tournament between myself and a handful of my viewers in Tyrian All-Star Battle. Rest of the week was uneventful, as was Sunday. Monday on the other hand, was my first normal social eating stream. I sent my Golem out to bring back takeout-this time from the Canthan place near Mom’s lab-I moved out and into an apartment owned by the hospital out in Soren Draa, but visit often-and then started up the stream.

“GOOOOD EVENING, GENIUSI AND GENIUSETTES! Golemella here, we’re doing social eating tonight! I won’t be eating as much as I did last Monday, but it’ll still be a sizable amount, since there’s more focus on you, the viewers, my intellectual fans.” I smiled, waving at the camera. I began to interact with everyone, and things were going well. At least, they started out well. The food hadn’t come yet, and I was starting to grow hungry. I kept speaking with fans, answering questions, engaging in conversation, but it was not to last. My stomach growled. Loudly. And the mic picked it up. My face went dark purple and I was completely silent…but the chat. Alchemy’s Catalyst, the chat! Someone made a BETSEAR emote and uploaded it, and the entire chat was spamming it. That did get a slight chuckle out of me. The Golem soon arrived, with food, and I dug in, profusely apologizing as I did. But they didn’t seem to mind, thankfully.

~~~

I started feeling horrific after work one day, but I felt I was still up to streaming. Thought I’d do a Just Chatting stream since I didn’t think I could play a game, either competitive or otherwise-thankfully it wasn’t a Thursday.

“Hey, everyone. Sorry for no game today. I haven’t been feeling the greatest today, so I’m just going to take it easy. But enough about me, how was your day?” I asked, my voice still on the weak side. Questions and answers didn’t go super fast, unfortunately, as my vision started blurring a bit, and I was growing more and more confused.

The next thing I noticed was I was in my bed, hooked up to IVs, and there was a bowl of soup being placed in front of me, atop a tray. I glanced over to the terminal as I ate, and the stream feed was off, but the chat, there were people constantly asking if I was alright. I didn’t get a chance to even let them know what happened until a few days later, since I was resting, not working or streaming, and was under care of a new doctor-one whom watched my streams.

~~~

Even despite everything, I still practiced and practiced, getting better and better at Tyrian All-Star Battle. I was determined to beat TheBloodyDirector at his own game. Loss after loss, some completely wipeouts, others just close. Until that fateful day, where I decided to try Zojja out. I’ve found another hero I love to play. I got into a 1x1 match…against TheBloodyDirector, as, you guessed it, Kudu. And yes, he was streaming this day. Someone suggested in my chat that we hook up, and I was shocked. I heard him splutter over voice comms as well, so I suspect he got the same suggestion. No, random viewer, not happening. But despite this, the match was HEATED. And it was CLOSE. We were neck and neck, if he killed me, I’d kill him shortly after. And given that this was a time match and not a stock one, it was tense. But finally, the timer was up…and I had won. By one kill. Finally…sweet victory against TheBloodyDirector.

(A/N: You thought I was some random writer, but it was me, Kazukoh, this entire time!

Also I'd like to thank ProtonJon, StephenPlays, and Wahnthac for (unintentionally) showing me how Twitch works, and @lewn-acies for the idea for this AU!)