#socks writes

[socksandbuttons]

Coffee Bean Time

KC slowly moved around the cooking area, setting both the cups and the instant coffee down as he grabbed the boiling kettle from the grill. All while Eclipse watches him out of the corner of his vision as he silently grimaces at their earlier conversation. “So they think of you as my keeper huh? The fact they STILL find me threatening; I suppose I should be honored.” He shifts upon the folding chair. Normal chairs are troublesome for someone his size, but he has found a few phone books to sit on and help prop him up. Granted he’d prefer a cushion but he’d be damned if he was seen getting too comfortable here.

“Mhm.” The taller bot agrees as he is heard to be stirring the instant coffee. “They have the right to check in. You are still something of a thorn in their sides.”

He turned and then took his normal slow, long strides over to the picnic table he had set up. With Killcodes legs it was really more of a struggle to not overstep than anything else. Setting the hot, brimming cups of coffee down, he crouches to sit on a blanket he’s laid near the tables end and across from Eclipse. A distance which he knows the other prefers.

A scoff is heard as Eclipse takes his cup and glares into it. “You think they’d hide that better.” He says as he takes a sip.

Killcode also doesn’t look up from his own drink, he’s become very quiet. Not unusual, the larger animatronic often thinks deeply about his words, he isn’t a fast talker after all. At this point Eclipse has learned to wait for a response from him.

“It is still nice to hear from them. Even if their intentions are… obvious.”

Eclipse responds to this with a cold, pointed look...

“However, they're asking how we're doing,” KC said and he could practically hear Eclipse roll his eyes at these words. “And Earth is always so willing to converse.”

“Yeah, like she isn’t talking enough over there.” Eclipse retorted, his cold demeanor melting away to the heated response that was right on the boarder of anger.

KC looks over to Eclipse as he takes a drink of his own coffee. Sighing at how the smaller animatronic continued to wall himself up from the new addition to the family. If Eclipse could ever bring himself to acknowledge he was a part of it.

Killcode however always did… regardless if it had meant anything at first...

“She’s very open about herself and the others. I think you could learn something from her. Or at perhaps humor her a little more.” He said and chose to overlook the glare that these words earned him.

Eclipse didn't hold the glare for long before he sighed and looked over to the kettle, as he’d already halved his coffee. He toyed with the idea of a refill but... ugh, but the hassle of having to readjust himself afterwards-

“That airhead doesn’t know anything. She might as well just be talking to the walls.” He grumbled as he returned to focus on his now nearly empty coffee cup. Does he really have to move? Like hell he’s asking KC to get it for him.

“She’s… forgetful, yes that is true. However I do appreciate her efforts to talk with everyone. It’s endearing although… she is missing a lot of information.” KC said as he had silently taken notice of Eclipse's frequent glances at the kettle.

“It sounds to me like she’s just trying way too hard to get to know everyone and what their problems are. Not like it’s a secret. I know they talk about how she’s programmed with all that therapy shit. It’s why they keep pushing Lunar onto her, like he needs it.” Eclipse grips his cup as his anger briefly boils. Lunar… God what an idiot. They’re just babying him. Eclipse cringes as he thought back on how Lunar screamed about how much he wanted him dead.

There is only a slight hum in response, Eclipse looking over to see KC staring. Not at him, no, but past him. Lost in thought. The smaller bot had always found it hard to read his face during these moments. After a moment or so he sighed in annoyance, before continuing.

“If she’s trying to be their sister, she can’t also be their therapist. The amount of shit she’d have to go through... I doubt she’d be able to handle that mess. But that’s probably what the Creator wants right? Another failure, or for some other stupid reason.” Eclipse didn’t fail to see the slight twitch from KC when he mentioned that weirdo. He'd learned pretty fast he was never going to get answers about it from his ‘father’. “I agree… She would only hurt herself trying to shoulder everyone else's burdens. Even if she’s programmed too; it would be irresponsible for us as her elder siblings-” Eclipse coughed into his drink and practically snarled at those words. Not that Killcode paid him any mind as he just continued with his thoughts. “to let her continue like that. It does make me worry for her.” KC finished. But he sighed, seeing the look of resentment still adorning Eclipses' small face. How else is he suppose to refer their familial bond?

“Although, I appreciate her efforts in making sure there IS communication between the brothers. Do you not think that is helpful?” He said as he took the first sip of his coffee, noticing that it had gotten a little cold. Perhaps Eclipse’s drink must’ve as well. He could make use of that...

It was just as he heard a scoff on the other end that Killcode stood up. Now seeing clearly that Eclipses cup was empty just as Eclipse began to fidget with it moreso. More importantly, KC can tell the topic of this conversation has come to a close. “Did you want a refill, Eclipse?” “No.” He absolutely wanted a refill.

Killcode merely turned to grab the kettle, just as Eclipse suddenly became indignant at realizing the taller animatronic intended to get him that refill of the blessed caffeinated beverage. Eclipse started to declare that he could do it himself... Only for the latter to topple out of the chair and fall face first onto the damp ground... along with the phone books he was sitting on. "We really need a better chair for you.” “Oh shut up!”

------ I WROTE A FIC FOR REAL. I had this scene in my head the one day but I knew itd take a while to draw and i have been meaning to try writing again. Which im glad I got it down, cause... sighs at the many things I have in concept between characters. I don't know when I'll do it again, but I have a comic to finish first. This has been proofread and edited by @thorns-and-rosewings

Which i appreciate because descriptor words elude me a lot.

[soggywriter]

Sooo. About that Crepus character study. Crepus' father is called Vespera - Latin for evening (similar to Hespera/the garden of the Hesperides if you're more familiar with the Greek terms). The evening comes before dusk falls. Evening suffocates to dusk, eventually - but evening always, always comes first. Dusk is such a very short length of time.

[canisalbus]

Yeah sorry I drew this.

Hope you feel better soon ♡

.

[weevmo]

Status: Doing the same thing over and over and expecting a different result.

I am an exhausted but patient vulture continuing to circle this idea ! Corduroy Stew you will be mine.

[diodellet]

cw: sorry for writing more bedroom shenanigans, it will happen again. unbeta'd, all mistakes are mine. probably some scientific inaccuracies, except for the inertia bits, that i understand. established relationship things and some light swearing. it's all lighthearted 😇

who needs morning alarms when you're partners with naga!jamil?

the first thing to wake you up is the cold press of his scales against your skin. which is the beginning of the end, sad to say. being part-reptile, of course his instincts bring him to search for the closest heat source. as the warm-blooded one in the relationship, you will make do.

which leads to your current predicament - not the comforting feeling of sleeping in his arms, the upper body situation is all fine and dandy on this side, you like the fabric of his sweater, you (both) deeply crave this kind of skinship, it's all good up here! - his coils are twined around your legs, heavy enough to pin you in place, leaving you vulnerable to the cold of the room. as your eyes crack open, what greets you is the dim blue glow of dawn. of course.

in this world of magic, you'd think they'd have created a kind of blanket that doesn't become utterly useless after several hours of shifting in one's sleep. with your limited movement, you manage to free one arm.

"jamil." you shake his shoulder.

"hmm?"

"can you get up, please? i need to shut off the ac."

to your dismay, he makes a vague sound of protest, curls his arms more protectively around you.

"jamil." he can't seriously be going back to sleep.

"it's still early, and you're all nice and warm..." and wasn't that the twisted miracle of this situation? the fact that you woke up before his alarms?

his languidness has got to be a joke. you've seen him move quicker than a bullet. snakes can haul ass when the situation calls for it. you weigh your options, you could yell 'spider' and risk the consequences of a freshly-awoken-and-panicking jamil.

or you could just freeze. who needs legs? who needs to move? the way his fingers idly stroked against the flesh of your stomach was nice and comforting -

"bullshit, you're also freezing...!" he just liked to see you struggle, didn't he? you try kicking your legs in a last bid to free yourself only for his coils to shift and properly entrap you in their grip.

oh that was unfair, being comprised of mostly muscle and having quick reflexes even when half-asleep. damned naga anatomy.

you heave an exasperated sigh through your nose, not even bothering to hide your annoyance.

jamil's breath fans across the back of your neck. "didn't you want to spend more time together like this?" he asks, faux-dejection creeping into his voice.

the skin of your nape erupts in a flurry of goosebumps, definitely not from the cold. you feel like you're burning, and you're not sure if that's a good thing.

so you decide to roll off the bed and take him down with you.

tagging my fellow jamilnatics: @viperwhispered @twstgo @crystallizsch @jessamine-rose @just-a-little-silly

(if any yall wanna be tagged for future jamil writing, just lmk through the replies. i know in my bones he will strike again)

[lunarw0rks]

the concept of johnny not shutting the fuck up while he's balls deep inside you is so real to me

[trombonechurchill]

hi hello dealer's choice for the ship and finding them wearing the others clothes, if it sparks joy?

Instructions unclear, wrote vaguely 8b adjacent grief ficlet instead, sorry leashy ahaha

When Tommy was young, he put himself away in a box. Locked it tightly. And for awhile, the box was safe. All those messy feelings and thoughts with sharp edges safely contained in walls they couldn't escape from. Dark, quiet, not for anyone else to see. But as Tommy got older, grew bigger, the walls began to chafe. And Tommy's body kept trying to grow bigger, instead forming stunted and twisted, trapped tight inside the space he'd crammed himself into, bursting at the seams till the pressed hard enough to leave marks he still feels today. Evan Buckley was never someone small, never meant to be tucked away quiet in places he didn't fit. Evan made noise, took up space even when he probably shouldn't. Asked and asked and wanted to be seen. Evan looks so small now. Fragile pieces of him held together seemingly only by the fabric of Tommy's hoodie around him. They're the same size and yet he seems shrunken, tucked inside of himself in some hollow place that Tommy knows echoes and aches and fits all wrong. So he sits with him, wraps the sleeves around Evan tighter, tucks the zipper up higher, snug against Evan's skin, let's the hood hide the tired, aching look in his eyes. Tommy can't do much, but he can give Evan this. Give him a space to grow back into. When he's ready. Hold the sides together till Evan's ready to step out of that box again.

[pzyii]

my favourite little guys

[vaguely-concerned]

the question is who taught lucanis to knit. was it something he already knew how to do or is he picking it up over the course of the game as part of his 'if I manage to cram enough hobbies in there I won't have to sleep again ever. easy' experiment. did he learn it out of a book (as a sometime knitter, a horrifying thought but I wouldn't put it past him). as hilarious as I find the mental image of caterina with knitting needles I do not believe in it, did he pick it up from someone in the household staff growing up the same way he did cooking. is the sweater he wears with his introductory armour his own work (very funny if so it's just so. incredibly neutral toned and sensible.) I understand why he never does it on screen because animating knitting is the devil's own work and bioware were right to dodge right past it no one should wish themselves that kind of pain, but do you think off-screen he's using it the same way davrin does whittling during team meetings and book club nights (for real the grandmas were so right for this: knitting during social group situations is a neurodivergent life hack like you wouldn't believe if doodling isn't your thing/isn't doing it for you). it's that or sharpening his knives and some people seem to get a bit nervous about that so he mostly sticks to the knit one purl one of it all. does he make things for the team. for romanced rook perhaps. boring but useful things like socks and scarves, to be clear. I think mr. 'I made you a cake (cautiously marital intent)' would not mean to impress just make sure your feet weren't cold jogging around the heights of athim killing darkspawn. knitting more socks for harding so she won't get cold walking around everywhere in her fereldan *checks notes written on palm* clogs. some of taash' outfits... you think rook and lucanis are letting them walk around the anderfels like that without at least a token sensible scarf on even tho adaari are built different in terms of body temperature. I say no not in my lighthouse they would team up and mother hen them to shathann levels before they'd let that happen. (the scarf has dragons on it taash thinks it's kind of cool actually.) a bobble hat for manfred not because he really needs it but because he wanted to feel included. assan indignantly tries to steal it and fly away with it so he gets his own scarf to promote peace between the lighthouse little guys and it works. help.

[petesdirtysock]

bill dickey & the cycle of abuse theory

i think about evan dorkin's point of saying "bill wasn't always a sociopath" because i think it really explores something interesting about the cycle of abuse and the effects it has on others. so here's a really really long text post about it !

tldr, sock has a really convoluted theory about bill's mom's possible abuse towards her son and it causing a big issue for bill and his mental health and literally everyone else who crosses his path

tw for abuse , manipulation , trauma

to first begin, let's look at bill at the beginning of the series! at first, we see bill as almost the same as he was in the "welcome to eltingville" pilot. a lot of people say that the tv version of bill is really tame in comparison to comic bill & i 100% agree. one potential reason for this may be that the art styles are so vastly different when you really look like it and all of the scenes were bill goes absolutely insane would be hard to animate for adult animation shows. typically the styles are simpler for the sake of cost but this might be different since we had a lot of great shows in the 2000s that were able to accomplish both ( but that's a conversation for another day ).

but in bill's case, i feel this was almost intentional ( & kind of not ) since the scenes chosen for the show were the beginning of the comic! throughout the comic, we see bill get worse and worse and he comes to his greatest failure in the epilogue where i very strongly believe ( and i think its canon ? ) that he caused the injuries and potential death of multiple people during the comic con fiasco. like i dont know if any of you guys have been to the jacob javits center ( where the comic con in the comic takes place ) but there's like thousands of kids, elderly, and full grown adults that basically pack the entire building. THAT HAS MULTIPLE FLOORS BY THE WAY. like there have been times i've had to squeeze through people in just the artist's alley, IMAGINE THE TINY ASS FOOD AREA & THE FRONT OF THE BUILDING.

and you may be asking "sock, what in the hell would possibly cause this impulsivity and disregard for human life in someone who is pretty much normal other than being a creep???". so it turns out the answer to that question is divorce and abuse.

i'm definitely not qualified to diagnose anyone, especially not in the realms of personality disorders ( im just a depressed and anxious autist lol ) but since we have confirmation that bill is a sociopath by evan dorkin, i can back this up with COLD HARD FACTS!!!

first to begin, sociopathy is a mental personality disorder that can be caused by genetics AND by societal / environmental factors. so it is 100% possible that bill was either born with sociopathy and the events brought them on strongly OR he wasn't born with sociopathy and his trauma brought it on. in my opinion, i believe the first option is more possible since we have 0 info on bill's parents other than his mom being abusive ( WHICH DOES NOT MEAN THAT SOCIOPATHS ARE MORE INCLINED TO ABUSE ). so that's up to you guys!

sociopathy is characterized by someone who frequently does impulsive and erratic behaviors. this person has the ability to have strong connections with others but not many. they can be kind of mean but have the ability to be empathetic in some circumstances. they may be hotheaded and tend to rationalize their actions despite them obviously being wrong. this describes bill perfectly, sadly enough.

now, im gonna list off some of the points where bill's sociopathy comes out. if you disagree with any or think i missed one, please let me know! the first time we see bill show off sociopathic behavior is him threatening his little brother, tommy, for his dad's money so he can buy the dreaded boba fett figure. from this we also learn that, in this divorce, it's very probable that bill's parents live in two seperate houses. if his mom were home during this scene, like she is in the first club meeting scene, she probably would've told bill to be quiet. we also know this because after the comic shop fire, she tells him that her sister invited them to live with her ( hopefully that paused the abuse for some time or maybe not, ill get to that later ). the idea that bill could threaten his little brother as a angry angsty teenager isn't that hard to believe but knowing what we know now, this is a little worse. another scene later on shows this getting worse. during the intervention scene, we can see how he's willing to excuse away most of the "nerd behavior" he does, despite him being able to easily just say "okay, i'll give it up". but because he tends to make himself seem better to others by excusing it away, he is willing to put it to 100%, even puking on the guys. and from there, i don't think i have to explain the sociopathic tendencies behind the comic book fire scene and the comic con epilogue.

now what does this have to do with bill's mom? like i said earlier, evan dorkin has come out and said that along with pete, bill also experiences abuse from one of his parents. in this case, it's bill's mom. we don't see much of her but we know that she's usually angry and bill doesn't like her. he never says anything to her face though, which is fair in the case of abuse. sociopathy can be brought out in someone due to trauma and abuse is a traumatic thing to experience.

perhaps, bill's familial abuse makes him believe subconsciously that hurting others is okay. this is NOT true for all abuse victims ( i would know ) but in some cases ( especially in pop culture ), this is true. my opinion on the situation between the divorce and the abuse is this:

bill's mother was abusive towards bill and maybe bill's dad and brother

the parents got divorced and bill was sent to live with his mom while tommy was sent to live with his dad, splitting custody

due to bill being the older one, he is able to move between the homes but maybe bill's dad doesn't allow tommy to live in bill's mom's house

due to us not seeing any "clear signs" of abuse, there is a chance that bill's mom stopped physically abusing him for the time being due to court order

bill might possibly hate his mom because of their close proximity or fhe fact that she "scared" his dad away, ruining their family

the main reason for why i believe abuse is involved is the fact that he was pretty normal when the club first started ( which i assume was freshman year because of how small they look ). and yes, divorce can cause kids to act out but to such an extent implies that something possibly really bad happened.

thank you for reading and please let me know what you think ! be kind and have a great day (*´∀｀*)

[mischievous-thunder]

Wade, staring at their washing machine in shock: OMG Peanut! From each pair, one sock is missing. It happened last time too, remember?

Logan, screaming from the kitchen: Why are there extra lids in the kitchen? We don't even have containers that match these, Wade!

Althea, sighing dramatically with Mary on her lap: I thought enduring one psycho was hell. Now there are two of them.

[arttsuka]

I LOVE Teen Stan and Ford, it’s sad they don’t get drawn enough, so thank you so much!

Does Ford ever help Stan when he gets overstimulated? Or maybe when he has a rage response and suddenly starts crying and calls himself stupid?

Here's the other post with Ford

[dumbass-404]

W2H fic snippet below the cut

I like this part and the rest of the fic sucks so you're not gonna see it EVER. slash jay. But I need to sit on it after I finish to know if it's shitty or not.

“This movie stinks,” Sock said. Well, enjoy most of the time. 

“You just think it’s inaccurate.” Jonathan shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Not everyone knows what ghosts live like.”

“It’s not inaccurate. They're using sheep guts, or something real for the effects. It’s just a boring movie.” 

“How do you know what sheep guts look like?”

“I think you know the answer to that.” Sock adjusted his seat on the couch, slouching closer to the middle of it. “Also, I’m a demon, not a ghost.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes. “Were you not watching the movie? Demons are born in Hell. Ghosts used to be alive.” He lazily pointed one finger at Sock, the other hand grabbing another handful of popcorn. “You’re a ghost,” he said, mouth full. 

“I know what I am, Jonathan. Mephi– my boss told me I’m a demon, so let’s stick with that.”

He swallowed. “Ghosts are also around for a reason, right? Unfinished business they have to deal with.” Jonathan stared right at him, or right through him. Sometimes it was hard for Sock to tell the difference. “What are you here for?”

“To make you kill yourself.” Sock gave a smooth smile. “Remember? I’m a demon and I’m here to haunt you?”

“Why, though?” he asked sincerely. “You never knew me before you died. It doesn’t make sense.”

“That’s my job. My boss gave it to me.”

“If every person on earth died, and got to go back, you’d hear from some people.” He leaned over the popcorn bowl towards Sock. “They’d call them crazies at first–”

“Just like how you’re crazy. You’re talking to yourself r-”

“-But then enough people would talk about it, and it would be normal,” Jonathan finished, cutting Sock off from his jab. “There’s a reason you’re back here, and not everyone else, and you’re haunting me. Why are you haunting me, specifically?”

Sock had to think about it. “...I like killing things.” He turned his body to face Jon. “I like watching the life leave their eyes.” He stared at the boy, into those icy blue eyes with pupils the size of saucers. He could imagine them dulling, skin paling, blood painting lips. “I want to watch the life leave your eyes.”

“Really.” Jonathan didn’t break. “Morbid curiosity got you a ticket back? Homicidal tendencies?”

“I killed my own parents in my sleep with a kitchen knife before I turned eighteen.” He saw Jonathan’s eyes widen, and a small part of him felt his heart swell. “It’s not tendencies, it’s instincts. Something’s wrong with me.” He’d heard that phrase from almost everyone in his life, but it felt foreign out of his own mouth, especially with so much pride. “My boss saw that inside me, and thought I would be a good fit for the job.” 

“But I’m still alive.” Jonathan turned away, but not in defeat. “And you’re watching movies with me instead of stabbing me. Why is that?”

The demon stared at Jonathan’s side profile. The movie was color corrected poorly, and a green cast lit the front of his face. The sounds of screams from the TV felt distant, fake. He could hear Jonathan give a small but satisfied sigh, as if he had won the argument. 

It wasn’t even an argument, so why did he feel like he lost?

[sirianasims]

Chapter 44.5

I get almost halfway through the take before I stumble over my words. With a deep breath, I reach over and stop the recording. Again. I wonder how real actors can stand this, repeating their lines over and over, but quickly veer sharply away from that particular line of thought.

I hit the record button with a little more force than strictly necessary, watching the monitor as it opens a new file for the fifteenth time today. With another deep breath I paste on a smile that gets less convincing for each take.

“Hi guys, it’s Julia!” I chirp, my voice sounding unnaturally upbeat, even to me. I launch into the introduction, trying to hit that sweet spot where it still sounds natural and improvised, as if I hadn’t rehearsed it all morning.

This time, I manage to maintain a smooth delivery from beginning to end, no fumbling, no awkward pauses. Relief washes over me, until I glance at the small mirror under my camera.

One side of my eyeliner is smudged, the wings embarrassingly lopsided and uneven. I finally got my perfect take – and it’s useless. Of course.

I hammer the button to stop recording and toss a mascara onto the table with a clatter. My eyes are burning, and it’s not just from the brightness of the ring light. I grab a makeup wipe and erase any trace of the effort I put in this morning as I shut down the camera. No more today. My heart’s clearly not in it right now.

I head into the living room and sink onto my couch with a weary sigh, phone in hand. Marten still hasn’t replied to the text I sent him several hours ago, before I started recording. Now that we’re official, I figured we’d be texting and talking even more often. Instead, I almost feel more isolated than before. It’s only been a week since our first kiss, shouldn’t this be the giddy honeymoon stage?

I guess I can’t expect him to clear his entire schedule just because I finally decided to sleep with him, but still, I would have liked to see him again this weekend, spend more time together, reassure myself that the feelings – his or mine, I don’t know – are real.

I try to get a few cute selfies. My hair’s still decent, but without the makeup, I look… well, tired. I choose the least unflattering one and send it to Marten.

After a long pause, my phone finally vibrates. “You’re so pretty, Jules. Miss you too. Busy w/ study group, talk later!”

I stare at the message for a few seconds, chewing my lower lip. Somehow, it’s not the enthusiastic, all-in response I crave. He always says that he misses me, but he’s extremely slow to respond most of the time. I get it, his studies are demanding. But is it wrong for me to want more attention? More… appreciation that I’m dating him?

I feel a flutter of guilt. Do I seriously want him to feel grateful? Ugh, I sound like such a diva. I scroll through my favourites, stopping at Samara’s name. She’s visiting her family this weekend, so that’s a dead end. The quiet of my apartment presses in, the air thick with a loneliness that’s becoming too familiar.

On an impulse, I text Miranda instead, and my phone rings seconds later.

“Hey, girl!” Miranda’s voice crackles through the speaker, bright and cheery as always. “What’s up?” Her excitement makes me smile. Maybe some of that energy will rub off on me.

“Not much, to be honest. I was wondering if you wanted to hang out?”

“Oh my gosh, yes! Perfect timing. I was just unboxing some new items for a brand deal and I’d love a second opinion. Come over!”

“I’ll be there soon,” I say.

I can always finish the video later.

It’s impossible to be sad for long in Miranda’s apartment. The moment you step inside, it’s like an explosion of colourful curiosities, framed posters, soft pillows and plants, so many plants. This place is all Miranda, loud and unapologetic.

Her cat, Socks, is curled up in her usual spot on the couch and I’m very careful not to intrude on her space as I cross my legs. At best, that would earn me a scathing look of absolute disdain, and at worst, she’d get up and leave, her tiny furry body radiating contempt.

Miranda has placed two steaming mugs of coffee in front of us, along with some fruit and chocolate.

“Thank you so much for having me over, Mir. I spent all morning messing up a recording and I was slowly going insane.”

“You’re welcome, I appreciate the excuse to procrastinate.” She indicates her unboxing table across the room with a toss of her head. “Got a brand deal, I’ve only worked with them once before, and I really need to get it right. They’re extremely picky, last time I had to redo the video like seven times before they approved it.”

“Ouch. But I guess they were happy in the end, if they offered you a second deal?”

“They were very happy, but it’s still a lot of pressure. So I’m postponing that particular problem until tomorrow, the light is better early in the day anyway. But how are you doing, really?”

The genuine concern in her voice makes me fold immediately.

“Honestly, I kind of hate everything right now. It’s like nothing really makes me happy, even though it should. I mean, I finally hit a hundred thousand followers, I got a new boyfriend, things should be amazing. But no matter what I make, it feels forced, and Marten… I don’t know. I can’t quite get a read on him, I kinda wonder if he even actually likes me.”

“Well, maybe he’s not as intense as… as what you’ve been used to, but he’s clearly obsessed with you. I don’t think we’ve ever hung out without him texting you at least two or three times, and that was before you even started dating.”

“Yeah, you’re right, maybe I’m comparing. I guess it’s too soon to worry about it, it’s only been a week. It’s probably just work dragging me down.”

Miranda looks thoughtful. “Would you rather go back to your old content?”

I shake my head. “No. It’s too niche, I was struggling to reach fifty thousand followers back then, and I’ve already doubled that since switching. I need to stick to something with a wider appeal if I want it to be viable.”

“OK, thought experiment – if money wasn’t an issue, what would you do? No limits, you can do whatever you want?”

The vision bursts into my head, unbidden. I’ve moved to Del Sol Valley, I’m working on movie costumes, maybe musicals or theatre too, and I walk the red carpet in a stunning gown, and Paul is there, and of course he sees me and deeply regrets ever leaving me. Then I force him to explain himself and either slap him or kiss him – or both – and…

“I don’t know.”

“Really? Seriously, Julia, anything goes?”

I force the fantasy out of my head and try to be realistic. “I think I just miss being a little more creative. I don’t want my whole rebrand to go to waste, but maybe I could make it a bit more… fun?”

“Well, that’s pretty doable, isn’t it? I’ve been thinking we could do a collab, maybe it’d shake up the format a little and you could do something new.”

Next to me, the cat purrs contentedly, oblivious to the mild existential crisis swirling in my head. “I really appreciate you wanting to help, but I’m a bit worried it’ll look like you’re just boosting me. You’ve got ten times the followers I do, I don’t want pity views.”

Miranda chuckles. “Oh, girl, no. I’m your friend, but if I didn’t like your content, I wouldn’t risk associating with it, you know? This collab is just as much for me as it is for you.”

I manage a half-smile. “That’s nice of you to say.”

“I’m serious, Julia. You always bring something unique and creative, and maybe it could be a stepping stone for you to add a bit more colour to your channel?”

“You’re right, and I really don’t want to sound ungrateful. This is just so far from what I used to do, I’m struggling to figure out how to combine it.”

Miranda nods. “I get it. But sometimes you have to try a couple different paths before landing on the perfect blend of what you love doing and what actually gets traction. You’ll figure it out.”

Next to me, Socks seems to have gotten bored with her nap. Her ears twitch, and in one fluid motion, she hops off the couch.

We both turn our heads to watch as she leaps onto the small presentation table where a pair of pink boots are ready for Miranda’s video.

“Oh no,” Miranda mutters. “She’s gonna cost me a deal if she touches those.”

The cat sniffs at the box, then at the shiny leather. I’m halfway across the couch when Socks swats at the lid, her claws catching in the wrapping paper.

“Socks, no!” Miranda yelps, leaping to her feet. The cat immediately backs off and starts washing herself, clearly offended that we would ever think she had any interest in the shoe box at all.

Miranda sinks back into the couch as Socks jumps off the table and we both burst into relieved giggles.

“She’s such a menace. Anyway, about the collab…”

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[metaldevilll]

this is like essentially their dynamic i think

[aomiiine]

i fear zayne and sylus are the type to carry you mid-walk back home after your date. Wearing heels? He’ll settle you down on his lap once you reach home and start massaging your feet, soothing your tense ankles and all. Zayne would pay extra attention to where it hurts for you, his fingers rubbing firm yet tender circles on the parts that ache