#work on trying to figure out how to set up my new printer??? this could be a dark souls boss in disguise at this point

[chubsonthemoon]

GUESS WHOSE BOOK ARRIVED TODAYYYYYY SO NOW I GET TO POST PICS!!!!

This is To Hell and Back Again, by dear dear @perexcri. Cover design by @byierficrecs (thank you SO much for letting me use your design!). Binding by me!

I'm not in ST fandom, but I had the pleasure of skimming this fic while I was typesetting, and can I just say? I'm rooting for these kids SO hard. I'd go to hell and back again for them--[GUNSHOT]

But in all seriousness, Leah's writing is whip-smart, sincere, and funny as hell. I cannot recommend it enough to anyone who is a fan of these crazy kids. Her ao3 is a veritable treasure trove of excellent byler stories, which you should absolutely check out right now go do it!!!

As usual, process chatter and more pics, under the cut! <3

WORD COUNT: 144k

FONTS:

Title: Hellprint

Heading/Chapter Headings/Spine Titling: Norwester

C4 Summary: Roboto Condensed

Main Body Text: Garamond

COVER MATERIAL: Epson Premium Presentation Paper Matte, printed on my Epson Ecotank (more on that later baha)

HEADBANDS: Trebizond silk thread in the colors Garnet and Black

EDGE PAINTING: Acrylic paint in Crimson and Black

TITLING: Red iron-on foil for the text and white HTV for my maker's mark. Cut by Charlotte, my Cricut!

BINDING:

This was my first go at a German Bradel binding! I've seen lots of Renegade folks use this method and am so psyched I got around to trying it myself. I modified DAS's approach a bit and tipped on endpapers instead of sewing them in (there were a lot of new things to learn so I decided to shelve sewn endpapers for the next binding XD). I also only had 2.0 mm bookboard instead of 1.0 mm, so instead of layering two of the same boards like DAS did, I instead used one 2.0 mm board and one very thin piece of cardboard to create the groove for the hinge. The original article that DAS bases his video on actually uses boards of two different sizes too--a "thick" board and a "thin" board--but I still want to experiment with DAS's way of doing it, especially since I think it'll be easier to do cutouts on thinner board.

As far as matching the groove with the hinge, I think I did pretty okay for my first try! One board is definitely better fitting than the other though baha. There's always room for improvement, but hey that's where half the fun is anyway (and also you can't tell after the case-in whew), so I'm not stressed about it :D

COLOR SCHEME:

Nearly all of my design decisions for the color scheme were based off of @byierficrecs's gorgeous cover design! They were so generous in letting me use their cover and answering my questions about fonts, for which I can't thank them enough. And with so many wonderful elements to work with, it was so much fun to tease out the elements I loved from their work!

I decided to keep with the theme of red/black, which I also thought was fitting for a ST fic set largely in the Upside Down. Thus, black painted edges with red vines, as a kind of inverted, "upside down" continuation of the cover:

Even the thread I used to sew the signatures is red/black! :3 (please also ignore how the picture of the textblock is not focused on the actual textblock ajsldkfjs it was very late when I took that photo)

COVER PRINTING:

This was my first time printing a cover on my new printer (!!!), and BOY oh boy was it an adventure. Figuring out the dimensions took a second, but not as long as it took me to figure out what settings produced something I was happy with. Behold, all my test prints:

Very long story short, let's just say now I understand why being a prepress color specialist is literally a career you can have in publishing LOL.

Also, for some reason I could only sometimes get the bleed to work? Basically what I ended up doing was painting over the parts where the design didn't quite extend over the turn-ins, using with the same black acrylic paint I used for the edges. You can see this more clearly in the photos I took of the groove, and the endpapers covered the messy bits when I cased in:

THE MAIN INGREDIENT: LOVE

Finally!! The most important part of the process!!! HI LEAH ILY!!!! This fic is special for a lot of personal reasons, but chief among them is LOVE!!!! Your A/N's made me tear up when I first read it, because AH! You read my words of love!!! And went and wrote hundreds of thousands of your own words of love!!! And now I hope I've given that love back once again :3 And on and on we go, ad infinitum, until we are relieved of the curse of literacy and greet whatever comes after all this, thanks be to Todd. But until then, I'm so glad I get to shoot holes out of bagels and scream about radioactive tumblr posts and cry over fake people with you, friend :] Truly, peace and love on FUCKING Planet Earth. We are making it and we will all go together when we--[ANOTHER GUNSHOT]

I'm so excited to see where we're going, and what other stories we have to tell. But for now: EEEEEEEE YOU WROTE A BOOK!!!!!!!

<33333!!!

[noonaishere]

Online/Offline [C.S] - forty-two | meet the morn

“So… how do I join?”

“I’m sending you the invite, just give me oneeee… second.”

You scrolled to San’s screen name, MorningStar, and selected it.

Di-Dng!

“Dear god, I can not take that place. Who’s the new guy?”

“Yeji this is MorningStar-- should I call you Morning or Star?”

“Umm…” San thought for a couple seconds. “I’m not sure.”

“MourningStar…” Yeji trailed off as she thought. “I think I would just go with ‘Mourn.’”

“‘Morn?’” You asked.

“Mhm.”

“Sort of… Shakesperian, I guess. ‘Meet me on the morn.’”

“OH!” Yeji laughed. “I thought it was ‘mourning’ like, ‘mourning dove’. I read it wrong.”

You and San laughed.

“My eyes are tired. I ended up fixing the printer at work again.”

“Does it keep breaking?” San asked.

“It doesn’t stop breaking, honestly.”

“Oh, I’m sorry.”

Di-Dng!

“Yeji, just break the fucking thing. I have a bat you can use. I’ll put nails in it for you.”

“Ryujin, you’re back? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“Yeah. I put some food in the fridge for you if you want it. Vietnamese.”

“Oooooh. You spoil me.”

“Hell yeah, I do.”

You chuckled.

“You’re not going to introduce me, Cat?”

“Sorry, I’m setting up the game.”

“Keeho isn’t here for a day and already you’re struggling. Do you want me to do it? I’ve done it before when you and Keeho both show up late.”

“Yeah, but could you maybe show me how to do it another time? Your job makes you late more often than not.”

“Yeah, I’ll show you later.”

“Thank you.”

“Introduce me while I do this.”

“Oh-- yeah. This is MorningStar. We’ve become friends recently. This is his first time streaming. We were just deciding if he wanted to go by ‘Morning’ or ‘Star’ and Yeji suggested ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’ because she read his name wrong.”

“Hmm…” Ryujin mused as she was, most likely, selecting the settings of the game. “I sort of like ‘Mourn’ with a ‘u’, actually. Even as ‘Morn’ as in the time of day, it sounds cool. Like the… sound of it sounds cool.”

“What do you think, MorningStar?”

“No-U-Morn sounds cool. If you all like it, then I like it.”

QuackIsWhack✅: Easy to please JohnnyYuta: We love an unbothered king LeaBea: I like his voice YangYangGangGang: NO U!

Di-Dng!

Di-Dng!

“Heyyyy, Mick and Bracken are here.”

“Yep!”

“And we’re starting off in different rooms today.”

“Wooow-- oh! Did you finally finish unpacking?”

“We did,” Mick said triumphantly.

“Wooow, nice!”

“Mick, Bracken, this is MorningStar.” You said.

“Nice to meet you.” Mick said.

“Nice to meet you. I heard you’ve decided on ‘Morn’ as a nickname?” Bracken asked.

“Yeah, it seems like everyone likes it.”  San said.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Morn.”

“Nice to meet you too, Bracken.”

“Ahem?” Mick cleared his throat.

“And you as well, Mick.”

“Where’d you get the name from?”

“Maybe he’s Satan,” you laughed.

“You, being friends with the devil?” Mick asked. “I’d believe that.”

You laughed.

“Um, I’ve never streamed before so I was trying to think of a name, and my cat’s name is Byeol and she wakes me up every morning, so…”

“Ah, so ‘MorningStar’. That’s cute, Morn.”

A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: His cat’s name is Byeol? TheNicestGuy: He has a cat? JohnnyYuta: Show us the cat! UltimateHyung: Why no cam! MinHoe: We want cat! LuciPURR: Give us the cat! StrickenChicken: Cat! Cat! Cat! SleepySheepy😴: 😻😻😻

“They’re clamoring in my chat, Morn, do you see?”

“Yeah-- wow, they’re going wild.”

“The internet loves cats.”

JohnnyYuta: Let us see her! MinHoe: WE NEED TO SEE THE CAT A🌲SurroundedBy🌷s: We demand the cat!

“I don’t even have a camera, how would I show her?” San laughed.

“Maybe we can figure something out.” You laughed.

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rachs-words •

[autisticempathydaemon]

[A4A] Your Mafia Boss [More Than a Friend] Makes You Lunch

Tags: [Dating] [Getting to Know Each Other] [Librarian Listener] [Part Three]

Type: SFW

Tagline: Any leftovers I take home will go straight to Giacomo, and he’s still in the dog house until you say so. This is all for you, doll.

Tone: familiar, relaxed, occasionally soft and vulnerable

Setting; SFX: outside courtyard; slight wind and possible birdsong

WC: 1178, ~11 - 12 minutes

Author's Notes: This is the third of a series; please refer to its predecessor for the full context and story!

[Laugh] (Mid-sentence) -and obviously, ten year olds don’t understand the technicalities of counterfeiting and crime. We just knew “hey, this is money, we have a lot of it, so no one will care if we take some to the arcade.” (Aside) I was a DDR kid. I loved the game, but she, that cruel mistress, did not love me. I needed practice. (On topic) So, G and I, we see a stack of fresh, crisp fives, and we just grab a few off the top not knowing those were the rejects from the printer.

[Laugh] Misprints. It looked like someone’s punk fanart of Abraham Lincoln, like someone gave him neck tattoos and blue hair except if an artist actually did that, it would have been still more believable than the money we tried to put in the token machine.

Oh, god, wouldn’t have that been amazing? No, they didn’t work, and they were so obviously fakes, they really considered calling the police on a couple of preteens if not for the fact I called our moms who convinced the owners we were the victims here- something about us selling our skateboards to a conman and not knowing any better.

You bet they bought it; my ma’s a great liar. It doesn’t hurt that G and I have known how to cry on cue since we could practically walk.

[Snap] In a heartbeat, especially when I have a whole summer of punishment memories to draw on. Because we took money without asking and almost blew the whole operation- (Aside) which, I have to be real with you, was the main reason we were in trouble- (On point), we had to spend the rest of the summer working in my uncle’s restaurant “learning to appreciate the value of money”.

[Laugh] Which is particularly ironic when any of us remember the restaurant was initially a laundering front. The only reason there’s real cooks and work to be done in the back of the house is because Ma doesn’t let things go half-assed. That place became the talk of the town one month under her thumb, and that’s where we spent hot weeks peeling lemons, chopping onions, kneading pasta, the like. That’s where I learned how to cook.

[Laugh] I’m glad you think my food’s good enough to go pro. That’s sweet, but that was never in the cards for me. Ma wanted to retire, and this is the sort of business you like to keep in the family. Besides, cooking becomes so much less exciting when you have to do it for money. (Playfully haunted) I still refuse to make tortellini after that summer.

No, no, this is tortlloni- much bigger, much less fussy, much more satisfying to eat. Tortellini is not so much a food as an exercise in torture.

(Flirtatious) If you’d like to try it, I’m sure I could be tempted or persuaded- bribed, perhaps.

(Drawn-out) Hmmm, what do I want?

[Pause] (Loaded, sotto voce) I’ll have to consider that. I’m sure I could figure something out.

[Pause, phone alarm, laugh] (Light) Well, I certainly don’t want you to be late, that’s for sure. I will not be responsible for you going missing yet again.

[Rustling] May I help you up?

[Footsteps] I can see why you like your job so much. This courtyard is a lovely place to eat and read and people watch. You know, I watched a little kid take their first steps the other day.

[Laugh] I work! I have my laptop. I leave after we have lunch. I work nights; I do more than cook and look at your pretty self.

I think about your aforementioned pretty self, of course… and educate myself on the finer points of art forgery, which is a new market I’m thinking of getting into- very interesting, lots of potential for international operations, networking, the like. I keep busy, believe me.

For you, doll? Never; I could make time in any and all of my nights for you.

(Surprised, pleased) Especially tonight, if you want.

Consider yourself penciled in the calendar for a date. Did you have anything planned in particular, or shall I pick? There’s a place or two I’ve been dying to take you, places that make food I’m not as good at.

Of course. I’ve been wanting to take you out for a proper date night since, well, since I laid my eyes on you if I’m being honest.

[Beat] (Caught, thoughtful) Because… I kidnapped you- on accident and by proxy but still- found you at the place you work, and implied I’d like you to not talk to the police while also flirting with you and bringing you lunch pretty much everyday for the past three weeks. If we were to take that next step, if I were to pursue you more seriously than I already was, I’d want it to be because you felt comfortable and safe enough to initiate more.

[Beat] (Abashed) And, while I’m being honest, I want to be sure you’re not afraid of me… that you like me.

[Pause, laugh] Oh god, do I really?

(Muffled as if covering face) How could you not tell me I’ve had frosting on my face this whole time?

(Mumbling) “Silly” they call me. A legion of hardened criminals at my beck and call, and they call me silly.

(Unmuffled, normal volume) Did I get it?

[Rustling] What about now?

Here?

(Tender, soft) Sure, please.

[Pause, maybe a hitched breath to imply the kissable tension] (Soft) Thank you.

[Phone ringing, laugh] (Whispered) Sorry.

[Pause, maybe humming to denote waiting for Doll to finish their call] (Abashed) I’ve made you late… again. The next time I make lunch, I’ll have to include something extra for your coworkers- cookies or something.

Correction- I don’t have to, but I’d like to. I should. The last thing I want now that I’ve finally got you to go out with me is to make your friends think badly of me. (Teasing) That is, if I can trust you to hoard the cookies to yourself.

[Laugh] I’ll see you tonight?

(Pleased) Good. I’ll come by and pick you up. Do you want to plan the night, or should I?

Hmm… do you like surprises?

Duly noted. Then, I was thinking something classic and traditional to offset our… I’d say untraditional meeting- dinner and a movie?

Good. I’ll send along the menu of a place I have in mind; let me know if it sounds good so I can call and make a reservation or pick another. We’ll pick the movie after?

I’ll be counting the minutes… and working! I’m going to hustle along that forger I was telling you about and get that meeting done; I’m not letting you call me a slacker again.

Oh, it’s no trouble, believe me, doll. I’m the boss, so if you say we’re going on a date tonight, I am going to make that happen and make it good.

[Pause, cheek kiss] (Sweet) Look forward to it; I know I am.

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

Rated E for Elden Ring

So this was a funny little silly idea that somehow turned into a 6000+ word monster.  Don’t ask me how.  It is set in my Twitch AU or Gamer AU, where Ava is a Twitch streamer and Lilith is a lawyer.  They live together and are in love.  This originated from a small writing prompt about a month ago that you can read here, and I just got inspiration to expand on it.  Hope you guys enjoy!

Rated: E for Elden Ring (officially made this the title hehe)

//////

It was supposed to be a surprise.  That’s what you had planned for.  And you really did.  Plan, that is.  You thought of everything.  You picked out the day almost two weeks in advance, you changed your stream schedule accordingly so you would have most of the night free, you even covertly snuck peeks at Lilith’s work calendar to make sure the timing was right.  You did your research while she was away at the courthouse.  You hovered around the front door of your apartment building like a creep to intercept the package and hide it before she got home.  You even sacrificed your practice time with the new COD game to watch literal hours of tutorial videos to make sure you wouldn’t mess it up.  You did everything, all for her.

Lilith’s caseload had been driving her to exhaustion for the past month.  Her schedule had been packed wall-to-wall with difficult court battle after difficult court battle, and it showed no sign of easing up any time soon.  Being the most well-regarded civil attorney in the city had many advantages, but the price she paid to do it often seemed just as high.

You could tell that the stress was slowly wearing her down to the bone.  She was accustomed to working long hours, but this was excessive.  There were days where you barely saw her because she would leave for early meetings and not get back until you were getting into bed.  She was bristly by nature, but as the weeks wore on, she was becoming downright moody, grumbling and growling at the smallest inconveniences.  Three days ago, you caught her slapping the printer around when it had the audacity to jam.

It was all getting to be too much, and you wanted to try to help before it could get any worse.  But it was a tall order to fill, and for a while you weren't sure that you could do it.  You weren't a lawyer, and quite frankly you didn't know shit about laws and courts and whatever, so it's not like you could make her actual job easier.  You had briefly entertained a fantasy of breaking into the courtroom MGS-style and rearranging all of their schedules, but that was as far as you went down that avenue.  No, if you were going to pull this off, you'd have to utilize your own special set of skills.

You knew a large part of Lilith’s frustration was sexual.  It had already been a week since the last time you both had the energy and time to do anything, and for two highly physical people, one week of blue balls was tantamount to torture.  (You were feeling it too.  Your vibrator had seen more use in the past four days than it had since you started dating.)  So, you figured the best way to help her cool off was to, paradoxically, spend an entire evening having really, really hot sex.  Thus, the seed of your eventual plan was born.

Lilith wasn’t one for big gifts or grand gestures.  You suspected that any fondness she might have had for them was long ago drained out of her by her family.  This wasn’t really big or grand, but you put time into it, and you made your decisions with her in mind, so you thought she would appreciate it more.

Your grand scheme was this: Lilith was supposed to get home around 5, the earliest she's been able to manage in weeks, and you were going to be ready.  You had made the arduous trek to the nearest liquor store to find a bottle of her favorite wine and shelled out a tear-jerking amount of money to buy it.  When she got home, you would present her with a glass and coax her into relaxing on your couch while you went to do your stream.  Then, half-way through your stream, you would place an order out to the Lebanese place down the street to show up around when you finished.  Finally, when the stream was done and you were able to lure her in with delicious takeout, you would reveal your surprise.

That last part proved to be the most difficult, which you probably should have expected.  Even now, with thirty minutes to spare, you couldn’t resist peeking down your t-shirt to make sure the configurations you had painstakingly labored over were still holding up.

Who knew there were so many types of bondage ribbons?  Okay sike, you did, because this idea didn’t spring fully-formed from your brain meat on a whim.  What you didn’t know was just how many ways they could be used.  There was legit, like, a whole-ass art form about it  Your research had led you down a somewhat dizzying rabbit hole of bondage 101 and shibari tutorial sites, deep enough to have you sounding out terms like "loop chain", "gote", and "hishi karada".  You knew you wanted something you could hide under your clothes, and within that parameter alone there were almost too many options to choose from.  You settled on one that looked elaborate but that the tutorials promised would be easier than most: the diamond hishi karada.  This tie would see lines of silk criss cross along the whole of your torso and back, framing your tits, looping low around your neck, and forming a lattice that would hold securely for as long as you needed it to.

Once you decided on the tie, you picked out the ribbon.  Lilith was reticent by nature, and often kept her thoughts and feelings thoroughly closed off to others, but there were some things even she couldn’t hide from an observant eye.  One was that she was kind of obsessed with fine fabrics, the nicer the better.  When you first started dating seriously, she was quick to lavish you with gifts of expensive clothes, silks and cashmeres selected by hand and meticulously tested for quality before she brought them home.  (The very first time she did this was one of your favorite memories of her.  She showed up at your shitty studio apartment with a glare so focused and serious that you thought she was breaking up with you two weeks into your relationship.  Imagine your surprise when instead she stiffly presented you with a box from one of the most bougie boutiques in the city.  She was so serious about it that you couldn’t help but laugh at how severe her face was as she gave it to you.  You teased her about terrifying some poor shop girl before kissing the responding scowl right off her face.)

The second thing she couldn’t hide was her favorite color.  It showed up in little ways in her wardrobe, and around her space.  It was always just a touch, an accent, nothing that could ever be called overwhelming or garish, but you were quick to cotton on to it.  Lilith loved blue.  All kinds, but especially darker shades like navy and midnight.  It was evident if you knew what to look for, and therefore obvious to you since you made a hobby of watching everything your girlfriend said and did.  A blue blouse tucked neatly inside a neutral gray blazer, sleek silver jewelry crusted in tiny sapphires, an indigo phone case and small pieces of furniture, never larger than a lamp or the cushion of a chair.  Lilith was taught to restrain herself in every aspect of her life.  That was apparent almost from the moment you met her.  But she couldn’t suppress everything, and you had been working very carefully over the past year and a half to coax her into expressing more her tastes and interests.

So with that in mind, picking the ribbon was pretty easy.  You took some haphazard measurements of your body in order to select the right length, and you researched what kind of fabric would be strong enough for the activities you wanted it for.  The guides you read suggested silk (and boy, was it not cheap), so you found the brand with the right colors and the best reviews and paid to have it shipped as quickly as possible.

Now, you were here, finally triumphant after laboring intensely to tie the knots correctly and make the lattice fit comfortably on your body.  With fifteen minutes left, you busied yourself by doing a very cursory clean of the apartment before getting out a glass and opening up the wine.

This was where you made a mistake, however.  You had never been very good at patience or waiting around when you knew something was about to happen.  You were restless and fidgety by nature, and you would inevitably look for anything to occupy yourself with.  In this instance, that meant turning on some tunes with your mini speaker and dancing around the kitchen while you waited for Lilith to get home.  As a result, you didn’t actually hear her when she came in, and you only realized she was there when she put a hand on your arm out of nowhere while you were pouring the wine into her glass.

“Shit!” You yelped, spinning around without thinking, the mostly full glass still clutched in your hand.  You managed to avoid barreling right into her, but there was nothing you could do to stop the ruby-colored liquid from splashing out of its container and directly onto the front of her work suit.  “Babe, I… shit, you startled me!”

Lilith was silent, looking down at the wet mess you’ve just made of her clothes.  You saw her jaw tense, watched it tick to the side a bit as if she was grinding her teeth.  And then, she sighed sharply.  “Ava.”  She pressed her lips together in a tight line, looking like she wanted to say more, but thought better of it.  “No, it’s fine.”  She straightened up and started shrugging off her coat with stiff shoulders.

“Babe?” You asked tentatively, setting the treacherous glass on the table and taking a careful step toward her.  “I’m sorry…  I didn’t hear you come in.”

She nodded shortly.  “It’s fine, Ava.  The fabric is dark, it’ll wash out.”  The very obvious tension in her frame told you it was not, in fact, fine, but you were at a loss for what to do about it.

“Are you okay?” You asked softly, watching her mouth twist angrily at the question.  “I-I mean, how was work?”

“Shit, like always,” she growled, grabbing the buttons of her blouse to undo it with rough movements.  You stayed where you were, not touching her just yet when she was so clearly upset and trying to contain it.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“No,” she bit out, and then stopped.  She finished unbuttoning her shirt and let her hands drop loosely to her side, all while shutting her eyes tight and taking several deep breaths.  You waited, letting her regain herself the way she preferred to.  When she opened her eyes again, she looked calmer, but her attention dropped down to you; or rather, your shirt.  “There’s some on you,” she said, reaching out and ghosting her fingers over a spot on your abdomen.

You looked down and realized she was right.  While it wasn’t the theme park splash zone you’d just made of her clothes, there was still a decently-sized stain there.  “Crap,” you hissed and, without thinking, pulled up your shirt to get a better look at it, oblivious to Lilith’s eyes watching you like a hawk.  “This stuff comes out with peroxide, right?  Aren’t you supposed to mix it with the detergent—?”

“What’s that?”  You looked back up at her, only to find her eyes locked on your belly.  Oh.

“Oh, uh…”  Blushing hard, you tried to shove your shirt back in place.  “Uh, it’s nothing.”  Your efforts were thwarted, however, by her hands shooting out and catching yours before you could re-hide what you had inadvertently revealed.  Biting your lip, you let go, allowing her to lift your shirt back up again, baring the lower half of the ribbon tie to her inspection.  She just stared at it.  You could see her eyes following the many criss-crossing lines, seeing how they framed your stomach, stretched around to your back, and climbed further up your chest where the shirt still concealed them.

She was completely fixated.  You couldn’t tell what she was thinking, only that the gears of her brain were spinning like crazy.  You decided to just come clean, as clearly there would be no salvaging your initial plan of action.  “It was supposed to be a surprise,” you explained lamely.  “I was going to show you after my stream, but uh, well…” You smiled sheepishly at her, rubbing the back of your neck.  “Surprise?”

Lilith looked back up at you but didn’t say anything for a long moment.  Her fingers twitched against your waist, the pads pressing into your ribs.  Her eyes slowly dropped again, tracing a path back down to your belly that you swore you could feel like a laser on your skin.  With one hand holding you in place, she ran her middle and index fingers along the length of the deep blue silk, following the groove of it up your body and stopping just below where your shirt had ridden up.  She looked up again, wordlessly asking for permission.  When you nodded, licking your lips, she delicately lifted your t-shirt up over your breasts.

“This is for me?” She asked, voice quiet and accented with awe.  She caressed the elaborate lattice with her fingertips, so lightly that you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t watching her every move.  She touched the knot at the center of your chest and pressed it against your sternum, provoking a shiver from you that had you leaning forward into her hand.  Her eyes were on yours again, and they were full of dark fire, raging with an entirely different emotion from the one she started with.  She covered the knot with her open palm while she used her other arm to pull you in close.  “You said you have a stream tonight?”

Lilith’s voice was painfully sexy in normal circumstances, but the raw desire in her tone was enough to make your knees shake.  “Y-yeah.  It’s not long, just a couple hours.  I… I could cancel.  It’s not a big deal.”  Please tell me to cancel, please tell me to cancel, please, please, please…

The corners of her mouth quirked into a crooked smile while you watched with captive fascination.  “I have a better idea,” she said, pressing that crooked mouth right up against your ear.  What she whispered to you then, hot and hungry and smug, made you flush pink from head to toe.  “Yes, Aves?”  She asked, smirking against your cheek, already knowing what answer you would give.

“Yes,” you whimpered.  “Yes, please.”

“Good girl,” she purred, stroking the ribbons again, making you whine.   She took a small amount of pity on you and pulled you in for a kiss.  It was slow and wanton and sweet, paradoxically letting you regain your composure while making you dizzy all over again.  When you broke apart, she said, “I need to get changed, and you need to get ready for your viewers.”  She pulled your shirt back down and rearranged it so the ribbons were fully hidden once again.  It was an oddly gentlemanly move, given the situation, but that’s just how Lilith was.  She pecked you once on the forehead before retreating to the bedroom, leaving you standing alone in the kitchen with a half-spilled glass of wine, a stained shirt, and panties you would definitely be throwing out by night’s end.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

“Yo-yo-yo, what’s up, nerds?  It’s ya girl Ava back again with Elden Ring!”  Jesus Christ, why the fuck did you think this was a good idea?   Stupid, horny brain.  Stupid, beautiful girlfriend.  “And guess what, peeps, we’ve got company tonight.  Chat, say hi to Lilith!  Lilith, say hi to Chat!”  Lilith was a solid presence against your back.  She was sitting in your gamer chair like she belonged there, lounging on it with you in her lap, held there securely by a single strong arm.

“Hello, chat persons,” she greeted coolly.  Immediately you saw the chat explode with excited messages, a mix of greetings and exclamations.  Your long-time fans greeted her with familiarity and spammed the feed with bat emojis, while your newer fans sent swarms of questions which were all some variation of “Whoa, is that your girlfriend????  She’s so hot!!!! 👀👀👀👀👀👀👀” or “You have a girlfriend??? Lmaoooooooo, no way, loser 🤡🤡🤡🤡🤡”.  You could practically feel her smirking at these comments while the game’s menu theme started to play.  Her fingers skated evilly along the hem of your freshly chosen shirt, pausing occasionally to tug on the ribbons until they snapped lightly against your stomach.  You tried to distract yourself from this by bantering with chat, but there was nothing in the world strong enough to divert your attention from what was going on between your legs.

Because what the chat couldn’t see, what you had carefully positioned the camera to conceal, was your lower half.  More specifically, the apex of your thighs, where you were being stretched open by Lilith’s dick, practically staked on it while you soaked her boxers with your arousal.  Evil girlfriend.  Evil.  It was one of your biggest ones too, indigo blue and thick as all hell.  It didn’t see much use compared to some of your others, but when Lilith sauntered out of the bedroom holding it while looking at you like a mouse she wanted to devour, how were you supposed to say no?

The fullness was so much, too much.  You were struggling just to form complex thoughts let alone competently play a video game.  You had no idea how you were going to manage Elden Ring’s difficulty while also refraining from fucking yourself to completion in front of hundreds of people.

You did your best, practicing deep breathing exercises to keep your body relaxed while you loaded up your save and responded to messages.  Your Tarnished stood up from the Site of Grace you paused at last time, deep in the Altus Plateau, and you milled about checking your inventory for a minute while Lilith rubbed idle circles beneath your belly button.  Her muscular thighs were spread wide, keeping your legs open, and you had to make a conscious effort not to glance repeatedly at where your slickness was dribbling down between them.  At your insistence, there was a towel there to contain the mess (because you paid good money for this chair and you were not about to ruin it) but you knew that if you looked, it would only make things worse.

In the interest of self-preservation, you tasked Lilith with keeping an eye on the chat while you played.  It wasn’t much of a defense, as your girlfriend was unfortunately a very good multitasker, but it was better than letting her have total free reign to torment you as she pleased.  If only your own body would behave itself too, you might just get through this stream without incident.

You summoned Torrent and set off in the direction of Volcano Manor, intent on starting the dungeon there and taking on the Godskin Noble and possibly Rykard if you got far enough.  Along the way, you also figured you would try to take out the Ulcerated Tree Spirit on Mt. Gelmir to level up a bit.  This was where the problems started to occur, because Ulcerated Tree Spirits were a shitfucking, goddamn, bitch and a half to fight when you didn’t have a massive sex toy sitting in your cunt, and now that you did, well…  To say that your performance was lacking was a bit of an understatement.  By your third death, Lilith didn’t feel like holding her tongue anymore, and chose instead to mercilessly tease you.

“I see now why you’ve been cursing so much recently,” she gently mocked, earning a flurry of agreement and 💯💯💯💯💯 from the chat.  Then, when she snapped the ribbon against your skin and made you miss a very easy charged attack, she asked, “Why do you insist on using such a large weapon?  Wouldn’t it be safer to fight from range?”

“Well, duh, it would be safer,” you snarked back.  “But you’re not supposed to play these games safe.  You’re supposed to get the biggest weapon you can find and swing it at them until they’re dead or you’re dead.”

“I see.”  After two more failed attempts, you finally managed to kill the bastard, taking your runes immediately to the nearest Site of Grace to put them to use.  While you argued with chat about the merits of Strength/Faith vs. Dex/Int builds (Strength/Faith was superior, obviously), Lilith must have decided that things were too peaceful, because she chose that very moment to start rubbing her middle finger along the side of your clit.  You bit your cheek nearly hard enough to bleed to stop your treatise on greatshields from ending with a comically loud gasp.  She didn’t let up, stroking slow, torturous circles against you and occasionally dipping down to playfully frame the space where your pussy and her cock met.  She kept doing this, heedless of your fingers leaving nail marks on her knee, all while the towel beneath the both of you developed an increasingly large, dark stain.

Only when you were on the verge of insanity, bucking into her touch and riding Torrent into the stomp attack of a troll, did she show you mercy.  She withdrew her hand and wrapped both arms around you to still your canting hips, all while she rested her chin on your shoulder.

The chat was bumping, but even with the high traffic, you still managed to catch messages now and then saying stuff like “You guys are so cute 😍😍😍” and sometimes more nerve-wracking things like “Why does Lilith look like a dragon hoarding treasure? 🤔🐉”.  You did your best to ignore them and the warmth of your girlfriend’s body as you pushed on and finally made it to the start of the Volcano Manor dungeon.  You didn’t think you would get to Rykard or the Godskin Noble today, but you wanted to at least make significant progress in the dungeon before calling it a night, so that’s what you set out to do for the rest of the stream.

After two hours of playing (two hours of torture) consisting mostly of you fucking up and getting lovingly owned in chat for it, you wound the stream down and said goodbye to your viewers.  Lilith even offered them a stoic and detached good night, prompting a flood of “Good Night, Lilith!!!! 🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌🛌” messages in response.  And she waited patiently for you to close everything up before speaking again.

“Is your camera completely off?” She asked, while her nails teased the skin of your ribcage over your shirt.  You bit your lip hard and nodded, even going through the motions of double checking that all of your recording equipment was shut off while she watched.  “Good.”

She moved without warning, shifting forward until both her feet were planted on the floor and then pushing you both up off the chair with nothing but her legs.  You yelped in surprise as you unexpectedly fell forward, catching yourself on the desk while your pussy convulsed around her huge dick.  She caught you by the hips to steady you, rubbing soothing circles into them and humming apologetically for the sudden change of position.  

“Alright, Aves?” She asked, leaning forward to brace herself over your back.  You nodded, but then whined pathetically when she tested your honesty with a push of her hips.  “Use your words.”

“Mm, I-I’m good,” you managed to stammer.  “You just surprised me.”

She hummed again.  “One good surprise deserves another, don’t you think?”  As she spoke, her hands slipped under your shirt and tangled themselves in lines of silk.

“I can take my shirt off,” you offered, trying not to shiver too much at the feeling.

In the dark reflection of your computer screen, you saw Lilith shake her head.  “No, this is good.”

She clearly had you exactly where she wanted you, but you tried to regain a little bit of the upper hand with a joke.  “You know, the point was for you to unwrap them.”  All you get in response is a firm smack on the ass.

“You’re my present, aren’t you?”  Her tone was imperious.  “I’ll unwrap you when I like.  Right now I want you like this.”  One of her hands traced a searing path over your ribs and onto your back.  She picked a spot between your shoulder blades where the lines of ribbon crossed and dug her fingers in there, taking such a firm hold that the silk was pulled taut against your tits.  Her other hand landed on your ass again, possessively palming the pink spot where she smacked you.

“Do you think any of your fans guessed what we were doing?”  She prompted, pressing her hips flush against you so the toy was buried up to the hilt.  “Do you think they realized what a little slut their idol is?”

“Y… your slut,” you moaned, pushing your ass back on her.  In the reflection, you could see the look of delight that took over her features.

“Mmhm, my slut,” she agreed, slowly pulling herself out of your cunt until only the tip lingered inside you.  Just as slowly, she pushed back in, ending the thrust with a burst of extra force that made you whine.  She did it again, using her grip on your back like a harness to pull you down onto her cock.  “When did you come up with this idea?”  You didn’t immediately respond, too caught in the maelstrom of sensations, and her free hand smacked you again.  “Answer me, Ava.”

“Ten days ago,” you whimpered, unashamed by the way you arched into her commanding touch.

“Ten days?”  She sounded genuinely surprised, even a little confused.  “How did you know I would be free?”

“I looked at your work calendar while you were gone,” you admitted.  “You didn’t have any extra meetings scheduled tonight, and I kept checking it to be sure.”

“Sneaky girl."  She started moving at a slow, teasing pace, carefully coaxing your muscles to adjust to the girth of the strap.  “Is that why you planned your stream this early?”

You nod.  “So we could, mmf, so we could have the night together.”  You ducked your head down so she wouldn’t see your face flush.  “That’s why I got the wine.”

“I was curious about that,” she said.  “You don’t like red.”  Her free hand was back to petting your hip while she maintained her hold on you from above.

“It’s, fuck, it’s not that I don’t,” you protested.  “It’s just not my favorite.  I can barely drink as it is, so I have to be picky.”  Because polyneuropathy is a fucking bitch.

She hummed again, thoughtfully.  “And how long did it take to learn how to do this?”  She asked, indicating the ribbons by yanking on them again.

“Four hours,” you admitted, the words trailing off into a whimper as your whole body was rocked against the desk by a powerful thrust.  You probably should have moved the towel to the floor, because you were positive that you were starting to drip onto the hardwood.

“All that just for me?”  The quiet awe from before was back.

You nodded fervently.  “All for you.”  Then, because the air felt a little bit too heavy, you added, “The knots were hard as shit to learn.”

She cooed sympathetically, but you could see her smirk turn devilish.  “Then it’s good you’ll be getting plenty of practice now.”

You shivered, a flurry of images from the tutorial videos swirling around your head like cartoon stars.  “Yeah?”

“Oh, yes,” she purred.  “You went to all this effort.  It would be a shame to let your new skills go to waste.”  Her hips started pushing harder, increasing their speed by mere degrees but burying her cock inside you with new intensity.  “You’ll wear it under your clothes again,” she told you, commanding you more like.  “You’ll be tied up all pretty while you entertain those enthusiastic little cretins on your livestream.”  Her free hand traveled up your body to grab a fistful of your hair, forcing your head up until you were staring into the blank computer screen.  “They’ll watch you for hours, and never suspect a thing.  And the entire time, you’ll be thinking about me, and about this.”

You keened, shaking under her hands while she fucked you deep and hard.  “I always am,” you panted.  “Thinking about you.”

“Sweet girl,” she crooned.  “My perfect little slut.”  Her words ended on a rough grunt as she started grinding against your ass, revealing how affected she truly was by all this.  “I love fucking you this way.  Why didn’t we think of this before?”  She let your hair go so her hand could drop onto the desk on top of yours.  She twined your fingers together as she braced herself above your back.  She started moving faster, her other hand moving from your back to one of your tits, long fingers tugging harshly at your nipple.  The sounds of sex were becoming overpowering, echoing off the walls and making you extremely grateful that this apartment complex actually gave a shit about their wall insulation.  “You’re so wet, Aves.  Two hours I spent feeling you soak my lap, and somehow there’s still more?”

“Your fault,” you pointed out breathlessly.  “You wouldn’t stop teasing me.”

“You liked it.”

“My Tarnished didn’t like it.”

“What’s that term you're so fond of?  Sounds like a ‘skill issue’?”  She mocked, grinning right against your ear.  You huffed, craning your neck to the side so you could shut her up by shoving your tongue down her throat.  She allowed this, but retaliated smoothly by sliding her fingers back down to your clit.  You were unable to keep the kiss going after that, breaking off with another helpless gasp.  If she wasn’t actively turning your brain to mush, you would feel aggrieved at how effortlessly she played with your body and how easily you bent to her whims.  As it was, however, your brain was thoroughly mush-ified, and thus it had other priorities.

“Fuck, baby, please,” you begged, shutting your eyes tight while your face burned.

“Please?  Please what?”  Instead of doing the kind and reasonable thing of just giving you what you very obviously wanted, she did the opposite.  She slowed everything down to a standstill, holding herself stationary in your cunt, and when you wiggled around frantically to get more friction, she pulled you upright and wrapped both arms around you to cage you in place.

“Lilith…”  You whined petulantly, arching back against her and feeling the sweat on your skin soak into your shirt.

“Ava, be a good girl,” she chided firmly, pinching your nipple between her thumb and index finger over the damp fabric.  "What are you begging me for?"

“I’m so close, baby, please let me cum,” you pleaded, leaning your head back on her shoulder, baring your throat to her.

“You want to cum?”  You nodded wildly.  “I suppose I’ll allow that.  But you’ll do it the way I want you to.”  Without another word, she let you go, carefully pulling out of your pussy and backing away.  You were left standing alone, the cool air of the room raising goosebumps across your body in the absence of her warmth.  When you turned around, you found her sitting in your chair again, lounging in it just as she had before.

“Up,” she said, patting her lap and grinning.  “Facing me this time.”  You obeyed, stumbling forward on jelly legs and profusely thanking your past self for getting a gaming chair that 1) didn’t have wheels and 2) was wide enough for you to do this comfortably.  Lilith was kind enough to help you get into position, holding your waist steady while you carefully dropped back down on the strap.

While you were busy adjusting to the stretch again, her hands gripped the bottom of your shirt and pulled it up over your head, tossing it into the same pile with your ruined panties.  Finally, you were naked before her, fully open to her appraisal.  And what an appraisal it was.  “Beautiful,” she whispered, tracing her fingers over the knots again.  She was still wearing her black undershirt, creating a sharp contrast between your two states.  It honestly made you feel a little vulnerable, being held open and on display while she was still partially clothed.  But the hunger in her eyes was gentle now, the hard edges of frustration and stress worn away.  As if sensing that whisper of anxiety, however, she was quick to reassure you.  “I’ve got you, love.  It’s okay.  Take what you need.”

You did exactly that.  You started out slow again, wrapping your arms around her shoulders to anchor yourself.  She buried her face into your neck, lavishing it with wet, heavy kisses.  She licked and nipped her way down your collarbone before taking the same nipple she had mercilessly teased between her teeth, sucking and biting it until the noises coming out of you could test even this building’s level of soundproofing.

The intensity kept ramping up and up.  You picked up speed until you were wildly riding her, and she grabbed the silk ties again to pull you down onto her with increasing force.  You could feel the pressure in your gut building to its breaking point, and knew from the way her breathing stuttered that she was getting there too.

“Fuck, that’s good, Aves, you’re riding me so well,” she growled.  “You can come when you’re ready.  I’ll be right behind you.”

As if flipping a switch, it seemed like her permission was all you needed.  You took the whole of the strap inside you and started to grind in her lap, all lucid thought fading away in your frantic search for completion.  “Baby, baby, it’s happening!  I’m—!”  You came with a long, tremulous cry, collapsing against her limply while she took over with her hips, using her powerful core and legs to drive up into you with near bruising force.  She grabbed your hips hard to hold them steady and buried her teeth in your shoulder, keeping you in place so expertly that no rope or ribbon ties could ever compare.

She came a minute later with a rough, deep groan that sent vibrations through your whole body.  Gathering you close, she released your shoulder and started covering the bite mark with open-mouthed kisses.  You were both breathing hard, your chests brushing together with the force of your pants.

“That was amazing,” she said, pressing her lips to every inch of your shoulder and neck that she could reach.  “My love, you did so well.”

“I did?” You asked, cringing just a bit at how small your voice sounded.

“Mmhm,” she murmured, petting your sweaty hair.  “You were so good for me.  You’re so good to me.  I didn’t…” She sighed.  “I didn’t expect this at all.  Thank you, for all of it.”

Her words made your chest feel curiously tight.  You buried your face in her hair to stifle this.  “I wanted to do something for you.  You’ve been so unhappy.”

She stilled, completely caught off-guard.  “I’m not unhappy,” she protested softly.

“I thought work—”

She shook her head.  “My work is frustrating, annoying more than anything.  The idiocy and rail-roading I’m expected to put up with every day is maddening.  But I’m accustomed to it.”

“It stresses you out, and makes you angry.”

“Because of you.”

“Me?”

“Mmhm,” she confirmed.  Her free hand began to trace circles in one of the gaps created by the ribbons.  “Because it keeps me away from you.  This past month has been so hard.”  You knew that, of course, but you waited quietly for her to continue.  “Before you, I never thought much of the hours I worked.  It was the job, and I was used to it.  I didn’t have anything at home for me to miss, apart from the occasional book.  But now I have you, and I miss you terribly, all the time.  Your clumsiness and your stupid jokes and your clutter.  Your laugh.  Your smile.  I miss the warmth when you’re not with me.  I was… very cold before you came to me, and I didn’t realize it.  Does that make sense?”

You nodded.  It did make sense.  You felt the same way.  Before her, your life was fine.  You had your cramped apartment, your job at the bar, the occasional hookup, and your little streaming channel.  It was barely anything, but you thought it was enough.  Until you met her, that is, and you realized that you could do better, could ask more from life than just subsisting on scraps.  You wouldn’t describe your life before as cold, but you would say it was small, too small to be what you really wanted.  But now it was big, in so many ways.  And most of it was because of her.

“I’m thinking about making some changes,” she continued.  “It can’t happen right away, but I’m going to try.  I’m pushing to become a partner in the firm.”

“Are you?”  You knew that would be a serious deal if she managed it.  Yes, she was one of the best and most sought after lawyers in the city, but it was another level to become a named partner in a firm.  “Obviously, you’ll get it.  They’d be idiots not to promote you.”

“I hope so,” she murmured.  “Until then, things will continue to be difficult.  I don’t want it to damage what we have.”

“It won’t.”  You pressed your lips into her raven hair.  “I know things are going to suck.  They’ve been sucking.  But I’m still here, Lil.  Everyday you come home, I’ll be here.  Promise.”

“I love you,” she whispered, pulling you back to look into your eyes.  “You know that, don’t you?”

You beamed.  “Of course I do.  I love you too.”  You kissed her then, curled up in her arms in your gaming chair.

So what if your surprise didn’t go according to plan?  This was the best outcome you could’ve asked for and more.

[rogueshadeaux]

Chapter Thirty —  Infamous

“Well, sometimes if you have someone listen to something they haven’t heard before, they might notice something you didn’t.” Zeke patted the top of a sealed ammo case. “Gain a new perspective. I have a buncha dead drops I’m gonna have to listen to, and I need a conduit’s opinion.” 

5k words | 20 min read time | TRIGGER WARNINGS: more goddamn lore and links (i love you guys but it's messy work /s), references to death, disease, catastrophe.

Zeke eventually came back as we finished organizing the papers, taking a moment to crack his neck before looking down at us. “Y’all look about done,” he commented. 

Brent nodded. “Nearly, but I don’t think there’s anything here that’ll help.”

I couldn’t help but agree. There was a ton on Celia taking out less-than-desirable people, and while I wasn’t sure yet how to feel about the death of those guys, I knew it wasn’t enough to lead us anywhere. 

“Yeah, that’s how it goes sometimes,” Zeke sighed, moving back into the kitchen. “But keep an eye out and an open mind — sometimes things connect in ways you weren’t expecting. Now, your pops is making a call, trying to connect with someone that might have some old info we passed to her years ago. I’m sure when he comes back he’ll go over everything y’all found and see if something stands out.”

I stood, grabbing the little empty mug of coffee and moving to the kitchen with the intention of getting some water, letting the stream run over my hand for a few seconds to take in that peaceful feeling that always came with draining. I screwed my eyes shut and tried to let the calm wash over the anxiety in my chest — and nearly screamed as it jump started my heart and sent it soaring when I opened my eyes to see Zeke standing inches away on my side, arms crossed. 

“You good?” He asked me. 

Other than nearly having a heart attack because he snuck up on me? “I’m…okay.” I answered. “Just worried. What if all of this is useless, you know?”

“We’re just covering our bases, kid.” He said heartedly. Cheerfully. Way too happily for it still being nine in the morning. “We find nothing here, we’ll just go lookin’ somewhere else. Now,” he raised his voice a bit so it would flow over to Brent, turning so he could regard us both in his sight. “If y’all are done with those files, I could use some fresh ears on some things I have.” 

Brent cocked his head a bit, glancing between Zeke and I. “What do you mean?”

“Well, sometimes if you have someone listen to something they haven’t heard before, they might notice something you didn’t.” Zeke patted the top of a sealed ammo case. “Gain a new perspective. I have a buncha dead drops I’m gonna have to listen to, and I need a conduit’s opinion.” 

“You want…our help?” I asked. 

“Why not?” Zeke shrugged. “Figured it’s the best crash course for y’all — you’ve gotta learn what really happened with the Beast and First Sons and all that, anyways. Figure it’d be better to have sources.” 

So we started helping set up Zeke’s desk, moving piles of papers and magazines Zeke threw his hand over and insisted were nothing to make room for this weird little device he seemed to pull out of thin air. “What’s that for?” Brent asked, somehow managing to hold a printer like it was a weightless purse. 

“This? Just a little doohickey I made to listen to the dead drops. It’s either this, or I hunt down equipment that’s older than y’all two — and I’m not usually lucky in bidding wars on eBay.” 

“You made this?” Brent balked. Excitement quickly overtook his eyes, and I knew he was about to demand to know everything about the gadget as he soaked in the ingenuity. He’d be an inventor if he had the patience to fail.

I let the two ramble on about technical words that escaped me as I finished cleaning off Zeke’s desk, grabbing the ammo case he had brought over and opening it. There was a dank smell that wasn’t at all pleasant, the dozens of little chips in it settling with the same sound LEGOs in a bin did. When there was a lull in conversation, I looked to Zeke, asking, “Why haven’t you uploaded these to a cloud or something? It would make storing them easier.” And it would smell less like swamp, too. 

Zeke, though, scoffed. “What, put them online where anyone could claim them? Where the government probably has a backdoor and could delete ‘em for good? Absolutely not.”

He turned to hook the device up to the computer, giving Brent the chance to look at me and shrug. 

Dad came into the room just as Zeke finished hooking up the device, and looked between the three of us. “I’m gonna go talk to Eugene, and then I’ll be back down here to help.” He glanced at the papers on the ground. “You guys organize everything?”

We both nodded. “There’s one pile of random stuff I couldn’t really link together, but yeah,” Brent added.

Dad hummed. His eyes breezed over the room but didn’t really seem to settle on any one thing. “Alright, I’ll be right back,”

He disappeared from the room as quickly as he came. 

“He seems distracted,” Brent muttered to me. 

“Hopefully in a good way,” I added. 

“Hopefully in a way that gets us more food. I’m starving.”

“You just ate!”

“Yeah — eggs.” Brent complained in a whisper. “You think that’s enough?"

I shot him a glare just before Zeke turned back around. “Alright, I think the thing’s set up. Pass me a chip, Jean?”

I nodded, grabbing one randomly and laying it in Zeke’s outstretched hand. “You’re sure this will work?”

“Well,” he popped his mouth as he inserted the chip and opened something on his computer. “It either works or explodes.”

“Explodes?”

“Yeah. So you two might wanna step back for a moment till we know which is which,”

Brent and I listened without another word, moving into the living room. I couldn’t help but notice how Brent stood in front of me, arm twitching like it was ready to grow a shield as Zeke finished pressing some buttons and breathed deeply before switching the machine on, flinching as he did so. 

No big boom came, though; there was a shrill trill of static, a sort of vibrating tone like it was calibrating, and then the most shocking noise — a British voice. 

“Audio report. Final.” The British voice says on the recording in between bursts of loud bangs. “The door won't hold them. I've done what I could to reverse the damage I've unleashed on the world. After Bertrand took control of the First Sons, I chose to stay on and I committed further acts of horror up under his twisted leadership. His resources allowed me to finish the RFI. That is all that matters. My God, I hope it works.” There’s another loud bang, loud enough to make me jump in place. “I hope it exceeds my wildest expectations and put an end to the Plague—”

There was this huge screeching sound as metal itself was broken, clinking against the floor.

“Forgive me Kuo,”  the voice rushes to say, “I wish I could've warned you—” 

It cut off as the sound of a chair scraping against the floor raked through the static, and then there were punches. That same British voice huffed out in pain until the recording became muffled and then forcefully turned off.

We both stayed silent as Zeke seemed triumphant with the success of the device. “Who was that?” Brent eventually asked, the first to shake off the stupor of what we just heard. 

“Sebastian Wolfe,” Zeke explains, turning his chair slightly so we were in his eyesight. “He was one of the head First Sons scientists.”

“He was trying to end the plague?” I asked. 

Zeke leaned back in his chair, biting on his tongue for a moment. “He…he was. Or, did,” He began. “That’s what the RFI was for,”

“What’s an RFI?” Brent asked. 

Zeke didn’t get to answer; Dad was coming back down the stairs, standing at the foot of them and leaning against the frame of the stairwell. “It’s what stopped the Beast.”

I cocked my head to the side, looking between Dad and Zeke. “I thought…I thought Cole defeated the Beast?”

“He did,” Zeke rushed to say. “He did. But it wasn’t like in the stories where David knocks down Goliath and wins. He had to make a hard choice.”

“The RFI purged ray field energy.” Dad took over. “Cleared it, and that included what was in the magnetic field at the time. Taking it away killed the Beast, but it’s also why almost every conduit died. None of us can survive without it.”

“So that’s….that’s what the mass death was?” I asked. “People said it was because of the Beast dying—”

Dad scoffed, sounding rather annoyed at the idea. “We aren’t minions to something bigger,” He said. “It’s not like we can’t survive without the Beast. Obviously we can — he’s gone. But think about it for a second; if the truth was told, and everyone knew there was a device to kill Conduits — you think there wouldn’t be certain people trying to use it?”

Brent and I glanced at each other; no, it was very likely there would be someone trying to remake the device. And I didn’t like that idea at all. 

“I’ve been hiding the notes on the RFI for years so that no one would have that sorta power,” Zeke said. “It didn’t work the first time — it just caused pain. I don’t want it to cause any more.”

My brow knit, and I realized something; the Beast happened in 2011. But Dad…Dad was older than that. “Dad?” I asked. He looked at me, raising an eyebrow in a silent prod to continue. “How did…how did you survive?”

Dad rubs the scruff on his chin. “Don’t know. None of us do.”

“Everyone’s been wondering since they started comin’ back,” Zeke said. “Or, when some didn’t die. It was supposed to work.”

“It was supposed to kill Conduits.” Brent said flatly beside me. “That sounds more like genocide than saving.”

Zeke looked over at Brent with a surprising fire in his eyes. “It would have killed either way. You know how many people would have died if Cole didn’t use the RFI? The plague wasn’t just killing regular humans, kid—anyone with the plague was dying. Conduits included.”

“Inactivated Conduits,” Dad corrected. “Which means I would have died, too, if I caught it.”

Brent had the foresight to at least look remorseful at the fact. “So if you weren’t activated or had the gene, you were just fucked?”

“Brent—”

“C’mon, Dad—”

Zeke interrupted. “Yep. No powers…no survival.”

That silenced the room. No powers, no survival. Cole was literally stuck having to choose between the needs of the many, or the needs of the few—there were even less Conduits then than there were now. Imagine killing off the entire population just to save, like, 7% of it. 

I couldn’t imagine how he felt making that choice, no matter how right it was. 

Zeke eventually sighed, saying, “Hand me another chip, please.”

I nodded, looking down at the case in my hand and picking one at random. Zeke took it from my outstretched hand and wiped down its surface with the hem of his shirt. He takes a deliberate amount of time hooking it up to the device, long enough that Dad leaves to look at the files Brent and I organized and Brent moves to sit back on the couch. 

There was another harsh burst of static before the audio of the next file came through. “Audio surveillance file X76,” that same British guy, Wolfe, said. “Meeting with John White and Lucy Kuo.”

“I wanted to, eh,” a really deep and really grainy voice came on the speaker, “Advise you of a recent incident. Kessler’s plan is unclear to me, so I’ll just stick to the facts: Kessler kidnapped MacGrath’s girlfriend, Trish, and dangled her off of a rooftop.”

“Holy shit,” Brent murmured as my hand came over my mouth. 

“He said MacGrath had time to save her. But there was another rooftop with six doctors about to die. MacGrath had to choose.”

Dad shook his head from his place on the floor. Cole had to choose between six innocent people and his girlfriend? That had to be horrible!

A feminine voice, clean and disgusted, simply said, “Sick!” while Wolfe responded with “Madness!” in his best impression of an aghast 1800s European settler. 

That grainy deep voice came back on. “He…tried to save his girlfriend. I dunno, maybe he was selfish, but…” he inhaled deep enough for the recording to catch it, “I can’t say I wouldn’t have done the same.” Then he scoffed. “Kessler killed them all anyway.”

“Of course,” the feminine voice muttered. 

“Evidently he wanted to toughen up MacGrath before the Beast arrives.” The deep voice said. “And who knows — maybe he succeeded. MacGrath definitely seems tougher than I’ve ever seen him.”

The dead drop beeped, signaling its end and leaving us all with so many questions. 

“Who was Kessler?” I asked first before anyone else could speak. 

Zeke sighed, rubbing a hand over his eye like it was too early for a conversation like this. Maybe it was. “He was the leader of the First Sons.” Zeke started. “Took over the position from some guy he overthrew, I forget his name. Robert? I dunno. I know his son’s name was Alden Tate,” Zeke paused, turning his chair to face all of us. “Kessler wanted Cole to be the one to fight the Beast.”

“So he killed his girlfriend to get him to do it?” Brent asked, incredulous.

“It was about the choice,” Dad realized from the side. “Be selfish, or worry about the greater good.”

Zeke nodded. “And he picked the wrong answer. They all died.”

“How is saving your girlfriend the wrong answer?” Brent demanded. 

I ran a finger along the texture of my cast. “It isn’t exactly caring about the greater good…” I murmured. “The doctors probably…they would have been a lot more helpful in Empire City, if it was as bad as Zeke says.”

Brent glared at me. “So you’d sacrifice someone for that? If it was me or Dad or—”

“I didn’t say I would!” I shot back, rolling my eyes. Brent could be so short-sighted, it was annoying.

“Guys,” Dad said off on the side, glaring at us both pointedly. His eyes flicked over to Zeke, who looked like he was going through the five stages of grief as fast as he possibly could. 

“He was going to propose to Trish, later that year,” Zeke said, more to himself than anyone. “He wasn’t…he didn’t want to lose that. It had broken him.”

I think it would have broken anyone. 

“Was that the idea?” Dad asked Zeke. “Make him get used to making those hard choices?”

Zeke nodded. “Yeah. That’s what Kessler told him, anyway. He needed someone that would be able to make the decision, in the end. That could fight the Beast and have nothing to lose.”

“That’s messed up,” Brent uttered. “He basically groomed MacGrath.”

“Messed up ain’t even the half of it, kid.” Zeke said. He sighed hard, and then motioned silently for me to give him another dead drop. 

Wolfe’s voice crackled on. “Audio surveillance of Agent John White, file D102.”

That same deep voice was back, but crystal clear this time. That must be the guy, John White. “I was carrying the Ray Sphere out of the lab when Kessler stopped me. It was...it was strange. He said that I had an important destiny, that I'd accomplish great things.”

Wolfe hummed. “I used to be a skeptic, but many of his predictions actually do come true.”

The guy, John, hesitated to answer. “I don’t know…the way he looked at me? Made me want him to be wrong.”

The dead drop ended there, the most useless one so far. 

At least, I thought so. Dad, however, felt otherwise. “Who was John White?” He asked Zeke. 

Zeke hesitated. “He, uh…he was an NSA agent. Him and Kuo, they were both supposed to infiltrate the First Sons and get more information on them.”

Dad’s brow furrowed. “I thought…I thought that the government funded the First Sons?” 

Zeke threw his head side to side as he tried to figure out how to explain this to Dad. “Well, yes, but they didn’t know they were. The woman in charge of DARPA at the time had a deal with Kessler on the side. You know, under the table, ‘you scratch my back I’ll scratch yours’ sorta stuff. She knew of the First Sons because of their investigations, and then she found out about the Ray Sphere.”

Dad scoffed. “Hear about some magic eight ball that can give you powers, and of course you’ll be interested.”

“Exactly.”

“But why would Kessler think that this White guy was important?” Brent asked from the side. “What, could he see into the future or something?”

Zeke didn't answer that immediately. His eyes sorta traveled off like Dad’s always did when talking about his past, when he was reliving memories that left bad tastes in his mouth, and he inhaled deeply. “John helped us in Empire City, during the quarantine. He tracked down the Ray Sphere and him and Cole destroyed it.”

After a breath, Zeke added. “It also killed him. At least, we thought it did.”

A shadow seemed to come over Zeke’s face, and from where I was, I could see the grip he had on the arm of his chair tighten. “What happened?” I asked softly. 

Zeke’s next breath was a bit shuddered. “It activated him. John was the Beast.”

“Oh, shit.” Dad murmured. Brent was too shocked to throw in his own curse words. "So Kessler made the Beast,” Dad scoffed. “Glad to know the First Sons have been the root of every problem.”

“None of this makes sense,” Brent murmured, head in his hands. 

I couldn’t help but agree with Brent; my mind was reeling. Not only was there some group with science advanced enough to activate Conduits, but they managed to make the Beast. They created the creature that killed millions and practically turned the east coast into a wasteland. 

Zeke had us listen to more dead drops, explaining things along the way; Kuo was another agent tasked with collecting intel at the New Marais First Sons’ base, and Dr. Wolfe was recording these dead drops behind both her and John White’s backs to send to the NSA so they could make sure there was no backstabbing going on. Other recordings featured Joseph Bertrand III, the guy I knew from our history books as the Alt. Right businessman-turned-politician that people contributed with starting the ‘small government’ movement that led to his easy fascist takeover in New Marais. Apparently racist rhetoric and anti…well, anything he deemed sinful wasn’t enough, because he was the head of the First Sons’ New Marais base as well, in search of power. He took the First Sons’ assets the moment Kessler died and used everything to fund his fascist army, the Militia, passing Dr. Wolfe human test subjects to play with along the way. 

Those test subjects are what caught Dad’s attention, especially as Dr. Wolfe recorded himself speaking to one. 

“I paid a visit to the First Sons' dorms where the Vermaak men were housed.” Dr. Wolfe said into the mic. “Subject 881 approached me and we took a walk. The recording follows.”

“You seem…” the accented voice hesitated. “Agitated, Doctor.”

“I figured out what Bertrand has in store for you. He's going to use the Transfer Device, isn't he?” Dr. Wolfe demanded. 

881 sighed. “Sorry, you know I can't say.”

Wolfe wasn’t going to take no for an answer. “Do you know who the Conduit is?” he demanded. 

“I just... can't comment on this.” 881 talked over him, and I could only imagine the head shake that came with it.

Dr. Wolfe switched to pleading, saying, “You need to know something. The transfer procedure was never designed to split abilities among multiple recipients. I don't know what it will do.”

“You…” 881 drew off, “Just got my attention.”

Dr. Wolfe continued, “Theoretically you'll all be ‘over-clocked,’ so to speak. You'll receive a portion of the true Conduit's power but your body will wear itself out trying to sustain it! You may go insane.”

There was a pause, and then the Vermaak soldier asked, “Why are you telling me this, Doctor? Bertrand, he wouldn't like it.”

Dr. Wolfe sighs hard. “I'm not a brave man, but if I'm right and you and your men lose control, then I'll have far more to fear from you than Bertrand.”

“Did he…” Dad asked the moment the dead drop beeped, signaling its end. “Did he say the Vermaak?” 

“Yep.” Zeke swiveled in his chair to face Dad. “Bertrand took out a contract with this private military group and used those guys to make Conduit soldiers. He planned to sell ‘em overseas.”

“I know that name.” Dad hums. “Vermaak 88. They were like some version of green berets from Africa, I think. Reggie worked with them on his tour in Iraq. They were…pretty ruthless, from what he told me when he came back.” 

“Yeah, that’s why Bertrand hired them originally — for protection,” Zeke hummed, already digging in the ammo crate for another chip he deemed worthy enough to listen to. “At least, that’s what everyone thought. Turns out, he was being paid under the table to make superhuman soldiers for a buncha war lords.”

“So he was hired, not the other way around?” I asked, Zeke nodding in response.

“Yep. Only guy in the world that had a power transfer device before Brookie and her government funding walked into the picture.” Zeke held up a chip, examining it close. “One on one, the transfer worked damn near flawlessly. Cole only was out for about four minutes when he did it—”

“Woah, wait,” Brent hummed, holding out a hand to pause Zeke’s tangent. “Cole was a forced Conduit?” 

Zeke let the hand holding up the chip fall, chuckling a bit. “No, no — well, if you don’t count the Ray Sphere as forced. Jury’s still out on that one. But Cole had gotten another power from someone. Kuo, actually.”

Dad’s head tilted slightly. “You mean…he had more than one power?” he asked, eyes betraying how much the statement confused him. I couldn’t blame him; there wasn’t any other Conduit I knew that had more than one power. Anyone but him.

Zeke seemed to realize this as well, saying, “Yeah — he wasn’t as strong in the other power as his electricity, but he could use both on a whim. Sometimes even combined the two, that was always cool to see.”

Dad’s confusion grew, and something else played in his eyes: betrayal, maybe? “He could use both at the same time?” Dad asked, almost disbelieving. 

Zeke nodded. “Yep. Sorta together, more than anything. Like he needed some of his electricity to work the power.”

Brent’s brow furrowed. “That’s nothing like how you do it,” he muttered, looking at the floor before glancing up at Dad.

Dad’s eyes were now off of Zeke and facing the wall, boring a hole into the wood as he chewed on his cheek. “It’s not.” He agreed, seeming to hate the fact that he did. He glared at the grain a bit longer, like the patterns would shift and give him the answers to his unasked questions, before slightly shaking his head, refocusing on Zeke. “He used a power transfer device for that? Like the one Augustine had?”

Zeke nodded. “Well, similar. Couldn’t tell you what the old one was like, considering it blew up before anyone else got a chance to play with it. I wasn’t even there when Cole hooked himself up to it.”

“So he was the only one to use it?” I asked before Dad could. 

“Well, him and the Vermaak.” Zeke replied, bringing up the corner of his shirt to try and polish the dead drop chip in his hand. “You heard Dr. Wolfe — Bertrand had him use the device on multiple people at once. Dunno how, and they all escaped before we could find out more. So we were stuck not only fighting the Militia, but a bunch of half-sane ice soldiers while trying to prepare for the Beast—”

Everyone’s heads snapped around to look at Zeke so fast that he nearly dropped the ammo crate in surprise. “Ice soldiers?” we managed to chorus, only half a beat off from each other. 

“Y–yeah?” Zeke stuttered, looking between the three of us. “They were transferred ice powers from Kuo, after she was activated. Cole too.”

Brent and I both glanced at each other before looking at Dad, who was staring at Zeke with a blank face before it cracked. His hands came up to press into his eyes. “Fuck,” he said, beginning to pace, “Fuck!”

Zeke was absolutely bewildered. “What, uh…why does that matter?”

I sighed hard on the side. “I was frozen by ice soldiers, in the fight with Augustine.”

“Oh, shit,”

“You know,” Brent deadpanned, leaning back on the loveseat. “Seems like everything comes back to the First Sons,”

“Always does,” Zeke huffs. 

Dad was still pacing, arms crossed now. “Bertrand was in charge here,” he muttered, a hand coming up to rub his face. He lifted his head, raising his voice slightly. “The ice soldiers were here. We’ve got to find their old base, maybe there’s something we could find that connects them to Archangel—”

“Delsin, this was some twenty-odd years ago,” Zeke said. “There’s a very small chance there’ll be anything left, between the military and any sorta urban explorers.”

“And they didn’t know what we do now,” Dad snipped. “There’s got to be something that can help us” He stopped, spinning in place to face Zeke. “Do you know where it is?”

Zeke hesitated. “I…I don’t. At least, I don’t remember. But one of these dead drops gotta have something that’ll help us,”

So we were stuck listening to more: of John White, telling the others how six blocks in Empire City were blown to bits when it was activated; of Bertrand, convinced he was doing something to honor God by gathering prisoners to test his own Ray Sphere on. 

There was a crackle, and then that same British voice again, far less panicked this time. “Audio surveillance of Agent Kuo, file G27,” he said.

 “I got my hands on an Echelon phone transcript the day Kessler detonated the Ray Sphere. He requested a very specific bike courier for the job.” She began. 

“Do you mean Cole MacGrath?” Dr. Wolfe asked. Brent’s head snapped around to look towards Zeke and his speakers now.

“There’s more,” The woman, Kuo, says. “I–I may have found some important new insight on Kessler, but I can't make it out. Kessler knew Cole MacGrath had the conduit gene, that's pretty clear, but I can't find his name in the First Sons database.”

“So…” Wolfe hesitated, “How did Kessler know Cole MacGrath had the gene?”

“Exactly.”

“Do you think they’re related?” Wolfe almost immediately asks after.

Kuo hesitates on the tape. “Huh…you know, I can try to find that out.”

The tape immediately goes dead, as if it was edited to the end of that exact statement. Dad was looking up from a file in his hand to where Zeke was, asking. “So who exactly was Kuo in all of this?”

“NSA Agent Lucy Kuo,” Zeke said, spinning his chair to face Dad. “She found us in Empire City and told Cole she had a way to make him powerful enough to fight the Beast.”

“And she was the ice conduit?”

“Yep.”

Brent was up himself now, having too much pent up energy. He was matching Dad’s steps earlier, pacing around the room. “How did he get more powerful to fight the Beast?”

“Blast cores,” Zeke says simply.

“Did the NSA know she was a conduit?” Dad interrupted before Brent could ask what the hell a Blast core was.

Zeke shakes his head. “Just that she had the gene. Bertrand’s the one that activated her, actually.”

I raised a hand like I was in class; this conversation was cool and all, but none of it was related to the very big piece of information in the dead drop we just heard. “Wait,” I started. “So — Kessler; he was in charge of the First Sons, right?” Zeke nods. “Okay, but then…how did he know Cole was a Conduit?”

Zeke had put on his glasses at some point, trying to mark each chip with a little code to signify what was on it. Now, though, he took them off, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “If I told ya, you wouldn’t believe me.” He said. 

What kind of an answer was that? 

Dad seemed just as perplexed. “What do you mean? We need to know everything we can if we’re going to figure this out—”

The stairs creaked, and Dr. Sims came down into the room, sighing hard. “Decoding that journal is gonna be harder than I thought,” he started, looking at Dad. “But I did get the emails,”

He said that last bit with that tone of voice Dad would use when he told us he got a message from our teacher when we were bad at school: We need to talk about it. 

“Kessler was a piece of shit, who knew too much for his own good,” Zeke responded, completely ignoring Dr. Sims’ intrusion. “It would be easier if we just left it at that.”

“But why choose Cole?” Brent asked, bewildered. “I mean — no offense to, you know, your old friend — but he was just an electricity Conduit. Why not pick someone stronger to fight against the Beast? Like Dad?” 

Dad ignored Brent’s praise to glare disapprovingly at Zeke. “You can’t hide something valuable like this,” he protested. “It could be exactly what we need to figure out what the hell is going on.” 

Zeke opened his mouth to respond when Dr. Sims interrupted. “Zeke,” he called gently. “They need to know.”

The argument in Zeke’s chest died on the tip of his tongue, and he made a weird noise as he deflated. He leaned back in his chair, running a hand through his hair as he chewed on his tongue, seemingly debating how to start this. Whatever he was going to say looked like it stressed him out to even think of. 

And I definitely wasn’t prepared for what came out of his mouth next. 

“Kessler was Cole. He traveled back in time after the Beast destroyed the world to try and stop it from happening.”

[godtier]

any advices for a beginner artist pls?

hi there!

i guess it would depend on the medium you're working with or what kinds of things you'd like to do. i'll try to give some general tips that can be applied broadly!

disclaimer: a lot of "beginner" tips are going to be really, REALLY boring. developing an art style relies heavily on patience and repetition. it can get very boring and you will feel like you're not improving. but the more you do it, the more you will improve. that's what everyone says, but it's 100% true.

tip #1: start basic

if you're a super-duper beginner, you could start by taking stock photos of people and tracing over them in an art program. you could also do this on paper if you have any magazines lying around, but i know that's probs less common nowadays lol.

tracing over a human body can give you an idea of what the human form looks like and how it operates. i wouldn't recommend always doing this, of course. this is for practicing purposes if you're super new to drawing.

you could also set up the stock photo side-by-side in a canvas on a drawing program and try to copy it as closely as possible. this is what i'd recommend after tracing. you don't generally want to rely on tracing all the time since that can make your style look super stiff, so trying to copy something freehand develops your drawing style bit by bit.

if you are inclined to look through some books about figure drawing, i would highly recommend books by andrew loomis. they are from the 50s or so, but the methods and recommendations are timeless. the books are still in print for a reason.

tip #2: get a foundational understanding of the human form

another tip that a lot of people kinda roll their eyes at is the whole "get a foundation in anatomy/real figures before trying to draw stylized stuff." people don't want to hear that because, again, it's boring! but it's true: if you have a foundation in how real people look, you can easily apply that to a stylized drawing and have it look nice. beginners who don't develop a foundation can instead lean into mistakes from other artists and it can screw up their entire drawing ability. that's what i did; it took me years to undo a lot of the stuff i learned as a beginner from copying anime and manga because i didn't have the foundations of real figure drawing and i was too stubborn/bored/ADHD-brained to focus on the boring stuff first.

you can also try beginner landscapes to get and idea of perspective and form. again, another super boring tip, but it does genuinely help when it comes to figure placement in a scene and making the background not look like it's on a different plane of existence than the figure that's supposed to be in it.

tip #3: don't splurge on really expensive equipment/art supplies when you're just starting out

this is a big one. a lot of beginner artists (myself included when i was young) think that in order to make great art, they have to buy the most expensive, industry-grade equipment or art supplies. this isn't true. when you are just starting out, using basic stuff is fine to get the foundations down. i still don't use expensive pencils for my sketches! I USE TICONDEROGAS, THE BEST PENCIL EVER MADE (not sponsored).

what matters more than the utensils when you're just starting out is the paper you're using. i wouldn't use printer paper, for example, but sketch paper. here's a pretty cheap and good quality sketch book for pencil work. if you want to use other mediums, like markers, strathmore also sells good quality marker paper for cheap. is this like, PROFESSIONAL GRADE? no, not really. but you don't need professional grade to start with.

and i can say all of that, but why is that the case? well, mostly because when you're first starting out, you're going to make mistakes. a lot of mistakes. and expensive equipment and/or supplies are going to add up fast. do you want to use up all the ink on a 30 dollar set of 5 copic markers because you don't know the proper inking techniques? or do you want to use a 100 color set of crayola sketch markers to get a foundation down of how colors interact with each other for roughly the same price? (granted, copics are alcohol based and crayolas are water based. if you want to try alcohol based markers first, ohuhu makes a 48 color set for around the same price.)

tip #4: don't stress about being the best, just experiment and have fun

this is probably the BIGGEST one. you are not going to be great right away. that's just a fact. don't get hung up on how your art looks just starting out. just keep doing it. draw whatever you want. share with others or keep it to yourself. don't look at your art and give up because it's not an immediate masterpiece. just do whatever you think is most interesting and experiment!

tip #5: don't get offended by good-natured and genuine critique

last tip for today, and it's very important, just about as important as #4. there's a difference between criticizing to bring someone down and providing constructive criticism. if you ask someone who is also an artist to look at your art and have them tell you what they think, don't get upset if they tell you what they think. most artists have been in this situation. most of them are going to try to give you a "compliment sandwich:" start with a compliment, then provide critique, then end with a compliment. this is a pretty standard way of providing criticism because people will generally respond better when the positives of their attempt are highlighted first.

however, some artists or teachers might just come out the gate with criticisms. this doesn't mean they think your art is shite, but that they see potential. the worst thing for an artist is for them to surround themselves with yes-men who only praise them. that gives an artist, especially a beginner, a false sense of their current skill and can be detrimental to improvement.

if you are sharing a piece and for whatever reason don't want critique? just start with that. "i worked on this for x amount of hours and i don't want critique right now, thanks" is usually enough. but don't hide behind that. hiding from critique will make your art incredibly slow to improve.

and that's what i got for now! sorry for the massive response, but i tried to give some really basic concepts for beginners. if this ain't helpful or if you have something more specific, you can send me another ask! i'm happy to help!

[drunkenskunk]

So there's a fanfic I've been trying to write for the last several years, and I haven't been making much progress. On average, I've been writing 5000 words in it every 6 months or so. I keep trying to make progress, but it's difficult to find the motivation to continue, since it seems like nobody gives a shit. And it's just a feedback loop of the longer it takes me to write, the less interest there is, and the harder it is for me to motivate myself, which takes me longer to write...

But there's also another project I've been working on: creating a whole bunch of redacted documents about an OC of mine, and then putting them all together in a physical file folder, as if some fictional agency of multiverse space cops has been building an intelligence dossier. The latest document is a 10-page-long transcript of an operation where they tried to capture her, but it went very wrong.

But also, I've been trying to work on a short story about the character I've been playing in the weekly Lancer game. It's called "Scarlet's Last Normal Day on Hell's Gate," and it is exactly what it sounds like from the title: following her life on the station, the literal day before the Class 2 Printer breaks, and the campaign of In Golden Flame kicks off.

But also, I've been stressed about my computer so much that I haven't streamed in over a week. This in itself has caused a slight crisis, because see it's making me question if this whole streaming habit hobby is even worth it. I've been doing it for 2 years, and haven't seen any tangible results. It's just made me more stressed and tired and it takes up valuable time I don't have that I could've been spent trying to write or draw and oh god the streaming is why my hands haven't been working in years, isn't it?

But the computer situation is also stressful. See, I'm just knowledgeable enough about my computer to get me into trouble, but I'm not knowledgeable enough to get me out. I think there's some kind of overheating issue: sometimes, when I play or stream some games, my computer will unexpectedly stop. The fans spin like a jet engine, everything freezes, the monitors go black and display the words "DVI NO SIGNAL" and the only input it will accept is me holding down the power button to force shut down. And it's like, I don't know what the problem is. Is it the case fans that need replacing? Is it a problem with the fans and/or heat sink on the graphics card? Is there a fault in the liquid cooling system? Has the thermal paste on the CPU worn out because the computer is just over 5 years old? Or is it something else entirely that I'm just not knowledgeable enough to even be aware of?

So that means there's the issue of what to do about this computer. Because even getting it to a shop to figure out what's wrong is going to be tricky, as I don't own (can't afford) a car, so how would I get it there? And even if I somehow found a way to get it there and back, is getting it fixed to keep this old bitch limping along for a few more years even worth it? Even before (what I assume are) the overheating issues, it was still showing its age. The computer might be 5 years old, but the graphics card was low-mid range, even when I got it. And it's becoming increasingly clear that 4 tb of space split between 2 hard drives might have been fine in 2019, it absolutely isn't enough now.

But if I decide to get a new computer, the only way I'd be able to pay for it is by pulling money from what used to be the "Emergency Bug Out Fund," an amount of money I had squirreled away in case of "emergency." Problem is, that moment of "emergency" where that money could've been useful already came and went. It's not enough for me to escape the United States. And even if it was enough, I never made a proper plan, because I was too busy surviving. And even if I had enough and put together a proper plan... where the fuck could I even escape? Setting aside how hostile to trans people most of the world seems to be now anyway, the reach of the Imperial American Hegemony is global, and they've proven time and again that they do not give a shit about sovereignty or international law. And it's only going to get worse after the election...

Pulling from that fund feels like me admitting defeat. I'm going to be stuck here in this hostile police state of a country, working until I die, desperately trying to make just enough money to pay off my increasingly absurd ransom rent each month, as it feels like all the things that used to bring me joy are just causing me stress.

I'm so tired.

[danpuff-ao3]

Sooo...

Fic-Binding.

Is a thing I'm going to learn this year! (This feels really awkward but I can't think of a smooth introduction, so here we are.)

Here on Tumblr was my first introduction to binding fics. It never occurred to me before that people would. I began following many amazing binders here on Tumblr and over on Instagram. My sweet friend Nina bound a short story collection of some of my fics for my birthday last year. And Lila gave me a copy of one of her fics. There is something so very special about seeing fics in physical form! It gives me all the warm and fuzzies!

...only it seems that if a gal wants her favorite fics on her shelf, she's going to have to bind them herself.

Now, I was tempted to share some progress pictures along the way, but I fear that would hinder my progress. My anxiety and perfectionism are strong. I do not like to be observed making mistakes. Even really minor ones. Even worse if people point them out to me, however well-meaning. I live with a deep and abiding terror of failure and judgment. Which...is it healthy? No. Am I working on it? Yeah. But my therapist and I agree that throwing myself into the deep end is not the right method for me, so alas...baby steps!

(Seriously, my partner and I have been together nearly 7 years and only this past year have I begun to try and test new things where he could see me do it. And there is no person on planet earth more supportive or less judgmental than my Eddie.) (But to be fair, when one is taught to hate themselves and see their only worth as their usefulness and productivity, well...The terror is quite real, and deeply ingrained, I'm afraid.)

I will try to take progress photos along the way and share them all in a photo dump when I'm feeling more comfortable and confident. Which is a long ways away as I've not even bound a book yet. Showing my errors should be easier when I can say "look but I fixed it!" By necessity I've become pretty good at teaching myself things, so with luck (and YouTube videos) I can do this!

And in the meantime I can at least write about my efforts!

Eddie, my partner, has been very enthusiastic since I first broached the subject of bookbinding and when my plans to gather supplies seemed to fall through, he agreed to help me get what I needed. He had me put supplies on an Amazon wishlist so we can purchase items when we can. The first purchase I made was the most necessary one, which was a printer. I got a little table to put it on, built the table!!!! (I am not very handy, okay. When I build anything, however simple, it's a huge accomplishment!) I set up the printer. Aaaand was resigned to wait however long until I could start.

...

...and then it occurred to me. "Hey, dumb-dumb, maybe you can start practicing parts of it now?"

Oh yeah! There are several parts to putting a book together. And so, I began! I chose a small fic, Orange Blossoms, to get a feel for how it would look printed out. I followed some online instructions. And it wasn't perfect, but it was in booklet form and I could fold the paper and everything was where it needed to be. Small success!

Then I adjusted the font size and reprinted, because the previous font size was teensy in Scrivener and GIANT in Adobe and on paper.

Next, I wanted to test printing multiple signatures. That one took a bit more work for reasons I can't properly explain. Even now I don't know why the original version was printing out the way it was, with a blank last page. In theory, it shouldn't have done that??

Anyway, I chose In My Veins (In My Blood) for this. Orange Blossom is 3k and fit into one signature. In My Veins (In My Blood) is 7k and I figured I could get 2 out of it. I figured starting small would be better so I don't waste paper and ink while trying to sort things out. Or you know...waste as little as I can.

I fiddled with some settings and such until the first signature printed right. Then I had to mess around to figure out where I needed to insert blank pages, and I changed my mind about where to put my mock copyright and title pages. Once I was happy, I then printed the second signature and then proudly waved them in Eddie's face!

Then, I found a gift card from Christmas and decided: hey, why don't I get some more stuff? Today my order came in and I got: an awl, needles, and waxed thread. Time to stitch those suckers together! I stumbled across a bookbinding video some months ago that I saved, so I pulled that up and went step by step. Measuring and marking where to put the holes. (Nightmare, btw, my brain hates numbers.) (Brain sees numbers and runs off scared; needs soothing and cajoling to come back out and get to work.) (The solution was obvious and didn't require actual math like the YouTuber told me but anyway that's not the point, the point is:) Then I threaded my needle and go to work!

Signature 1 was easy enough. But threading the 2 signatures together was not. First YouTube moved too fast and didn't explain things very clearly. Like...not verbally addressing each step in detail, but also with too many jump cuts for me to really tell what she was doing. But she referenced a Sea Lemon video which I found and was much more helpful!

And now I have 2 signatures threaded together! It's very rough and sloppy, but you know what...it's a first attempt, so whatever. (Look, even admitting that my first attempt is pretty "eh" hurts my soul, but here we are.) (At least you can't see it!)

So that's where I am for now! Eddie's going to peruse my list this weekend to see what he can get, and once I have the supplies needed for the next step, onto the next step I'll go! I do want to bind The White Road as my first actual bound fic, so I can work on fiddling with the typesetting a bit while I wait!

ALSO I ate dinner so late because I was so caught up in learning how to stitch those signatures!! I was like "okay this shouldn't take that long." Hey, self, this is a new skill you're learning. Maybe don't make assumptions. And at least double any time you think something should take. I sure scarfed down my food after that!

Anyway, I know it seems very silly that I'm too scared to show pictures, but even talking about it is a big step. It's like...well if this doesn't work out I'm going to look really dumb, huh? Better keep things all to myself so if it doesn't work out no one is disappointed or judging me or whatever. Much better to come out the gate with something to show, right?

But talking about stuff and sharing stuff is really important to me. It's this like deep inner need I've trampled down for so long, out of fear of seeming childish or silly at best, or at worst boring or burdening people. But maybe this is something some people are interested in. And I'll be generous with cuts and tags for easy skimming for those who aren't interested, and those who are, well...You're welcome to bits and pieces of my journey with me!

Speaking of tags, I've been trying to come up with a name for my "bindery." I thought of "Busy Bee Bindery" because I love bees and am quite busy, actually. But maybe it needs my name in it?? Idk I'm still brainstorming that one. Maybe by my next update I'll have one I can use for tagging! And you know...to slap on my bindings! 😄

[idontwanttospoiltheparty]

OKAY STORY TIME

So I woke up today at 6:30 AM with the following goal: Go to university, print out my a lecture reader before 9AM, have it bound at my university store that opens at 9 and then dedicate the rest of my day to going through the whole reader so I can start studying with it and practicing exercises tomorrow.

THAT IS NOT WHAT HAPPENED!

so first of all, I fucked around a bit, and only actually tried to print my reader at 9:18. But we're still good, right? I purposely went to the campus where the store opens at 9 rather than 10 so I can get shit done faster. Except ERROR 404, when I uploaded the PDF to the printing platform, the printer couldn't "find it." I had had issues like this in December, and I knew that maybe a solution could be to try a different printer in a different building

I make my way to another building. It takes a while to track down the printer but soon I'm set up to print. YAY! except the printer is starting and stopping every 15 seconds and I have to print 242 pages!!!! help!!!! It ends up taking like 40 minutes during which I can't really be productive because I'm cooped up in this tiny printer room

Okay it's like 10:30 by now, but it's finally done printing (or so I think) so I head out to the store where I can get it bound.

MID-BINDING I NOTICE THERE ARE LITERALLY FORTY PAGES MISSING. JUST RIGHT IN THE MIDDLE. WHAT THE FUCK???

So I leave the store again and head out to a different building because I'm thinking, that last one can't be trusted. It's only when I reach this building I realize that building doesn't actually have a printer.

So I turn back around and end up in the first building, but a different printer there. I sit down, make a new pdf with just my missing pages. Try to print.

GUESS WHAT??? I'VE RUN OUT OF FREE PHOTOCOPIES! this has basically never happened to me. wtf! where did I go wrong?? ANYWAY I'll suck it up and add money to my account balance so I can make these last copies and finally bind this reader

WELL FUCK YOU FIONA BECAUSE THE SITE WHERE YOU CAN ADD MONEY IS DOWN FOR MAINTENANCE. UNTIL 5PM.

At this point it's 11:15. I haven't had breakfast so I throw my hands up and get lunch, figuring I'll add money to my balance in the evening and then finally bind it.

In the meantime, I text a groupchat asking if anyone is on this particular campus, because they could use their free photocopies. Everyone is like: no.

Then, after lunch I realize: Oh Shit! The store where you can bind closes at 4PM. I can't wait until 5 to add money to my printing balance!! I don't want to lose an entire day what the fuck

I hang around a fourth printer for a bit, and tell my sob story to two dudes who come to pick up a print job. One of them is like "how did you run out? Did you print that much? Or did you use colour" AND YES I FUCKING USED COLOUR. I FORGOT HOW MUCH OF A DIFFERENCE IT MAKES EVEN THOUGH THE MAJORITY OF THIS READER IS BLACK AND WHITE.

Anyways they feel bad for me but they don't have any balance left either rip

Suddenly, I remember a group of people I know usually study in this one specific building on the other campus, which is a 20 minute bus ride away

I decide FUCK IT and grab the shuttle and track down the nearest acquaintance and beg him to let me print on his account. it's 1PM by this point

IT WORKS!

The binding store on this campus isn't super close + I get myself a coffee because What The Fuck + I can't be bothered to walk back so I wait for a tram that isn't much quicker than walking so it almost takes me another hour after starting to print my last 40 pages to do the full back and forth + binding

So it's a little after 2 and I am FINALLY sitting down to do what I set out to do. Get through this reader. Highlight stuff. Add post-it tabs.

EXCEPT I'M AN IDIOT AND FORGOT TO PACK A HIGHLIGHTER AND POST-ITS. So I end up paging through it and just taking notes on my iPad for what I want to highlight and tabulate later lol. (Which.... I could have done with just the PDF probably. fml I guess.)

BUT: WORRY NOT! HAPPY ENDING!

Because, For The First Time In My Life, I have overestimated how much time a task would take. I get through the ENTIRE reader by 7:10PM.

OH MY GOD.

[yourpalghost]

ghost makes a quick and overly simplified resource time

so im trying to bind a fanfic thats like... 15K. thats like. Idk man i feel like that doesnt need to be a 8X5 book. like that can be 4X5 and it would be nice. and since my magic google-search powers apparently cant be used to my own benefit tonight, i figured this out the long way. so im gonna throw what ive figured out up here quickly.

so for a 32 page signature the usual order for off setting is N, 1, 2, N-1. N-2, 3,4, N-3. and so on until you have all 32 pages. this works for any signature length just replace N with your number. 32 is basically the standard though. I use 32 to 16 for my fic binds. depends on the length. anyway

this exact print order ONLY works if youre printing essentially half sheet sized pages (aka a total of 4 book pages per one printer page). A quarter sized book has a total of 8 pages on it so we gotta change how we do this.

We are going to write out our standard four page blocks and then label them a-h.

now we have to work with TWO page sets for each sheet of paper. the top will be our first set and the bottom will be our second. BUT our printers dont think like that, they think one whole side first and then the second. how do we figure this out so that we can print this? we split our crap up.

So our new order of printing is A, B, E, F and for the back C, D, G, H.

(Yes you could just to A, B, A, B and C, D, C ,D but thats too confusing for me)

Badabing badaboom, when you print this itll come out like youve got two dang pages, you cut along the shorter middle line to separate the top from the bottom and fold as you would your standard book.

if your entire fic or book is only 8 pages long then just this one sheet is all you need, congratulations. now for the stupid weird math situation to get this dumb shit sorted

So because i dont wann ahve to do unnecessary math, im just going to give you the list on how to print this out for 8, 16, and 32 pages. 8 Pages 8,1,6,3. 2,7,4,5.

16 Pages 16,1,14,3. 2,15,4,13. 12,5,10,7. 6,11,8,9.

32 pages 32,1,30,3. 2,31,4,29. 28,5,26,7. 6,27,8,25. 24,9,22,11. 10,23,12,21. 20,13,18,15. 14,19,16,17.

"But what if my fic is longer than 32 pages?" well brother, then you take those numbers? and you make the next set start with 33 and end with 64. and youll have to do the stupid N math type shit on your own. i can not find the name of what this actually is which is why i had to figure it out on my own. good luck. so 1=33, 32=64.

so its like. 64,33, 62, 35. And. 34, 63, 36, 61. and so on. OR you can save your thing in pages of 32 and NOT have to do that math.

You did it.

[bylightofdawn]

Alright, I got about 3K written and the next part is gonna be a doozy Jaster's about to get some not happy fun news...hell it's not like it's a HUGE SURPRISE but he's going to find out Montross betrayed him and it's gonna be a s h i t s h o w.

And absolutely no one but Jaster was surprised, especially with the less than subtle hints I've been laying down. So that's going to take a while to write and since it's 12:30 I'm going to be a good girl and call it quits even though I high key cannot wait to write this terrible confrontation.

EDIT: Also, I'm gonna take a sec to edit and interrupt myself. I WROTE 3K WORDS IN ONE NIGHT. HOW FUCKING AWESOME IS THAT? And I've been regularly pumping out that word count which is how I've written like prolly 70K words in like 3 months. Maybe more I need to go back and look and see how much I'd written a few years ago when I started Seeds before my writing urge ran away from me.

Just did the calculation and it's rough but I'd written 11K of Seeds. With chapter 21 (not including 22 since I'm not adding stuff to the master doc until I'm done with a chapter) I'm at 103,000 words. I've written 92,000 words SINCE JANUARY. I can't even comprehend that. Like my brain cannot wrap itself around that large of a number. I get PANICKY thinking of a number that large and wondering how the fuck that happened. I wrote that? Me? It does not compute.

I am allowing myself to pat myself on the back for that accomplishment. I set out with an unofficial New Year's resolution (which I studiously never make because I feel like I always fail) to try and write a little bit a day. Well jokes on me because I've exceeded that expectation and resolution with flying colors. So this is me giving myself some well-deserved back pats and acknowledgment that I am awesome.

I'm not the greatest author out there, I have a lot of room for improvement but I am working on honing those skills, and that deserves to be acknowledged.

OKAY back to blathering on about Hot Toy's displays and diorama shit.

Instead I will write it tomorrow and try to get to bed at a reasonable hour. I want to take a second to blather on about something totally different. I've got three Star Wars Hot Toy's figures, my favorite boys Rex, Obi-Wan and Cody that I've picked up over the past few years. They live in an Ikea display case at the top and I love looking inside and seeing them but man I get so bummed at how shitty my display skills are.

I legit watched a Tested video today and Norm did this amazing customer display of like the new Bo-Katan hot toys figure displayed hanging from the ceiling seemingly in mid-flight descending on Mando. He apparently did it BEFORE he saw Mando S3 and he like a lot of us thought there'd be this huge confrontation between them. Anyway it looks amazing and I know I could never do anything that cool because 1) I lack the skill or experience. 2) I'm not backed by fucking Tested and have access to a $4,000 glowforge laser cutter to make custom acrylic cuts etc. Or a high end 3D printer etc. Suffice it to say that shit is an EXPENSIVE barrier to entry.

I have debated off and on spending a couple hundred dollars on a 3D printer and teaching myself how to do 3D modeling. I think it would be hard but I think I could teach myself how to do it. But it's justifying the price to even start. I have no interest in teaching myself how to do this and flipping shit on etsy with dozens of other people selling diorama pieces or turning it into a business. I don't think there's a lot of money to be had that way to be brutally honest and there's again dozens of sellers already doing that.

So I'd be literally investing a couple hundred dollars just to creatively challenge myself which isn't a bad thing. There's the satisfaction of learning a new skill and in learning. I just cannot justify the price just to satisfy my curiosity. I HAVE debated starting smaller. Like trying to do custom diorama bases all old-school and such. But I feel like there's still prolly a lot of up front money for supplies, prolly need more tools than the simple dremel I have. I don't even own a drill LOL I've been using my poor dremel as a drill for projects around my apartment and that has a very limited size of bits it can fit. Hell I wrestled with justifying buying that years ago, it was like 90 bucks and I've prolly realistically used it less than 10 times in like 5+ years.

I might still try it. I think I'd like to do a sort of desert /Utapau-inspired base for Cody and Obi-Wan.

Cody's figure actually came with a sandy textured base but Obi-Wan's was smooth. I ended up getting some 'action posable' stand off of Amazon which are hexagonal shaped and click together so I could display them together. Rex I'm just using the stand he came with which already has the bendable 'action' pose so he looks like he's flying. In a very lame and totally uninspired way. But we make due with the skills we have until we are willing to put for the effort to sharpen them and improve.

So really, I feel silly even whining about hating my display skills when I haven't managed to even move past the want and thinking stage of trying to improve it. I could buy a premade stand prolly for 50 to 100 bucks but that's a lot of money. Shit people are nuts, they are charging 50 bucks for what is essentially a full color vinyl sticker. Ya'l are joking, I know what that shit costs thanks to my years as being a printer so I could 100% get that made up for like 20-25 bucks at my local sign shop. Maybe less, I'll be honest I've been out of the game for a few years so it could be less or more.

People are charging stupid prices for those cool looking 3D printed ubiquitous Empire-inspired star destroyer panels. Like to the tune of 70 bucks for one panel like 4x12 panel. Which I'm sure is ALSO way overpriced. So technically I guess BUYING a 3D printer and making my own might end up being cheaper in the long run but....bro.

I think I could prolly get my hands on chipboard and maybe glue together a couple of layers and hand cut out the design though I suspect it wouldn't be as neat or clean. But it's cheaper than the shit they sell on etsy. Pffft I could prolly go by a print shop and see if they have some larger sheets. I do have some sintra left over from years ago when I attempted to make my set of Tobirama armor which is way stiffer but I nearly cut my finger off with the cut off wheel on my dremel soooooooooooo I'm very nervy around using the cut off wheel. LOL

I might find a thinner version online the stuff I used was like 1/4 thickness or something meant to be used for signs. Coroplast would be an excellent choice if it didn't have the visible ribbing where the expanded foam channels weren't so obvious. But that easily cuts with an exacto knife. Hmmmn I wonder if there would be a way of covering it maybe with plastic dip or something they use for foam sealant on foam armor? You can apparently sand that down.

That might not be a bad choice for like flat surfaces. And I'd be covering it with a sandy texture anyway. Just don't know if it can be heat formed. I might have to hit up Juan and see if he'd be willing to sell me a couple sheets of coroplast to experiment with. There are also things like paper mache, but ugh that shit is messy and I've had limited success making props with it in the past. Same for foam clay though I think with a couple of layers of plastidip it might not look as bad as the stuff I've done in the past.

And hell that's prolly less than 20 bucks in materials to just play around and find out. I love I've spent 30 minutes just typing up this long, meandering flow of thought. This is totally the quality content I'm sure people have followed my tumblr for.

But again it's post midnight and post midnight Gremlin brian!El is not responsible for the shit she posts. Maybe I should put that as a disclaimer on my blog. :P

Look it's Star Wara tangential. at least.

Of course, the problem with a small town is the only hobby store in town is Hobby Lobby and I REFUSE to give them any of my money so I might have to drive into San Antonio to Michaels to get some hobby crap. Or continue to support Daddy Bezos which I'm also not super hot on though it's become a sort of necessary evil at this point.

Man I wish I could go back to 10 years ago me when I didn't have to debate ethical consumerism cause it kinda sucks and I miss that obliviousness.

[just-some-sad-kiddo]

This morning, I woke up a little before my alarm and did a little bit of journaling since I don’t like going on electronics first thing in the morning. It was nice to get some thoughts out. I’m thinking that when my Google home arrives, I’ll set it up to play some easy, gentle music in the morning. I also need to get a blindfold or something for my morning meditation because I get distracted too easily when I open my eyes but I always forget to keep them closed.

I think I want to try putting boba into the Yorkshire tea. I mean, it’s just milk tea. They just call it tea here, of course, but for me it’s milk tea. Charlotte told me that there was a good Asian food shop in York that she and her friends go to sometimes.

I need to ask Shannon if he wants to visit for Christmas. Mom said that she’d pay for his ticket if he did since Dad wouldn’t be obligated to at that point. I hope that he does decide to come since we did have a lot of fun when all of us went to England together the last time.

So, I’ve started writing my thoughts on paper during the day so that I don’t get distracted while I’m trying to work. I think I might also start doing a handwriting journal since, honestly, my handwriting could be better. 

I need to start working on my GCSE shit. That’s the English version of the SATs but I need to figure out how they work and how to study for them. I was hoping that i’d be able to find some kind of remote option for school since that’s what I’m used to, but all of the remote options don’t work for me. First off, they’re expensive as hell and second, they never have any art courses. It makes sense that you have to do art in-person but my last school experience was so miserable that I don’t know if I’ll be able to do it. I’ve really been spoiled lately with my online learning i’ve been doing for the past year. I wear what I want, eat what I want, work when I want, and I can wear my headphones so that I don’t experience any sensory overload. I can’t do pretty much any of that shit at Selby which is just fantastic. I mean, it’s not like I’ve ever failed a class due to my literal disability. Oh, wait. I have. Multiple times. Of course, when I expressed my concerns to Mom, she did the thing where it’s illegal for me to be upset. Honestly, why do I tell her anything anymore? She does this every time. If I went back through my journal and looked, I’d probably find a thousand times she’s done this. I seriously need to remember not to say anything negative around her ever. She’s the only one who is allowed emotions. Who cares that I had a meltdown earlier today because Athena and Eris wouldn’t stop fighting? It’s not like it’s a big deal or anything. I’m just an angsty teenage pessimist who doesn’t have any real problems. 

This house is really cold, but nobody wants to turn the heat on because of how expensive electricity is right now because of the Russia/Ukraine war. I can’t even step into the kitchen barefoot or my feet will literally freeze. Trust me, I tried it yesterday. Worst mistake of my life.

I’m really, really excited to start working. I turned in my resume today at Gingers, but I don’t really think I’ll get the job. For one, I didn’t have a UK phone number so I put Tony’s on my CV. And, since Angela wasn’t there, I didn’t have the opportunity to tell her that it was Tony’s number. It seems unprofessional to have your parents number on your CV, is it not? But, anyway, when I get my new number I’m going to apply at the list of places Tony gave me. Luckily, everything in Howden closes by 3 anyways. I want to save up money so I can perm my hair nicely and also get my workout clothes and duffle bag for the gym. I also would like to get a Squarespace subscription so I can get myself a professional website to host my work. And buy a not-shitty printer.

I went to the park. It was nice, although I did get lost on the way. I also got lost when turning in my CV. It makes things harder that everyone drives like a psycho here. Literally insane. 

The lock on the door is still fucked up so Tony called locksmith so come fix it. In the meantime, I wanted to go to the gym so Paul drove me. I would have taken the bus, but much like in Fort Collins, they stop running really early. Also, they’re really expensive and all owned by private companies that don’t communicate with eachother. Thing is, I didn’t realize I’d have to get an induction as I’d never heard of that before. We call them orientations in America, but I’d never heard of that either. In fact, it seems I’m the only one whose never heard of that because everyone else knew what was going on. Anyway, I’ve set it up for 10:00am Saturday.

The gym is near these flats which are apparently very dangerous according to Tony and Paul. They say they’ve had the most bodies they’re from drugs and people jumpin’ out of windows. I forgot that Paul was also in the medical field.

[carlageddon]

I’ve not set foot in a Games Workshop in 26 years...

...so long in fact, it’s not called Games Workshop any more. It’s called Warhammer... and it’s not just the name that’s changed.

So as mentioned in a previous post. I was a “child of the 90s” I used to love going into the Games Workshop and looking at all the cool reasonably priced sets (I still couldn’t afford to buy), choosing that one blister pack from either Space Marines or Orks. Looking at the fantastic painted up miniatures on display and then watch the clinically insane staff explain some bizarre rules or history whilst dancing around the store and waving thier arms about, as terrified children watched in horror wondering if they would ever make it out alive... Brilliant. You could go in and ask for help if you were trying to paint something (remember this sentence... It’s important for later), the staff would open up a pot of paint, grab a paint brush, yell something at an unsuspecting child and then calmly show you quick tutorials on how to achieve what you were after. 

Back then we only had about a dozen paints and a handful of Inks. Inks... these were for the real pro’s.

Also the games were never easy to get into. Games Workshop was great for being able to get together and the crazy staff would teach you how to play

From what I remember there were only about four games out, Warhammer (Fantasy), Warhammer 40,000 (now called “2nd Gen”), Man ‘O War (the one with boats) and Epic... (Warhammer 40K but really really tiny). I think Necromunda was just coming out by the time I stopped with the hobby.

Sadly, after all these years I’ve still never played any of these Games.

So we fast forward a few decades... to 2022. I’m a little balder... a bit older... and a whole lot fatter. However I had recently picked up 90s HeroQuest from a Charity shop, I’ve brought a 3D Printer, I’ve gotten back into miniature painting, and I’m excited about the hobby again. 

I’ve often made the mistake of remembering things from my childhood and thinking how brilliant they were, then being massively disappointed at how shit those things actually were, I think the term is “looking through rose tinted glasses”. Do you remember Saturday morning Cartoons? That Garbage Pail Kids movie? Walkmans and VHS cassettes? I ‘member.. 

However. The Hobby of Miniature Painting is just as good if not better (for the most part) of what I once remembered.

So all this I decided to go to my local Games Workshop, sorry, Warhammer store. Keen to look at what the latest figures they do and get talking to what I am hoping is going to be a crazy member of staff, that likes to talk about the old days.....

So, here I go. How much money am I going to spend, shall I pick up the latest ‘edition’ of Warhammer 40K, I see there is a new game, KillTeam, maybe I’ll buy a box set of that instead? I’m genuinely excited to go speak.. to... the....

.....turns out the guy running the store is a asshole. A miserable. Grumpy. Stroppy.  Asshole.

Now I wanted to keep this blog positive. However, I’m going to go on this one rant. 

As I start talking to the manager of the store, I mention that I hadn’t been in a Games Workshop store in over 20 something years. He had zero interest, and points out, it’s not called that any more.

I mention, jokingly, that the prices are some what different to when I last brought a pack of 10 Space Marines. He then went on about how the prices of everything since the 90s had massively increased, that it was called inflation... and started listing everything that had increased in price “House, Cars, Food”

I was started to get annoyed at this point. It was just a joke.. I’m well aware on how inflation and the ******* economy works...! 

No.... I won’t get angry. I’ll just move on... 

I mentioned about old HeroQuest. Again. No interest. 

I mentioned about getting in 3D Printing which is why... oh 3D Printing is taboo in Games... in Warhammer stores then. 

I asked if they still have gaming sessions. He replies that “you have to book it, it’ll be during the week day”, I pointed out, that I work during the day.. his attitude... well that’s tough then. 

 I asked if they still did the painting sessions. He pointed to this young lad that looked up from the desk, saying that’s what “Grethcin” (or what ever his name was) was sat doing, like I should of known this.. the kid looked up, dazed and confused. I asked “Are you OK, and to blink twice if he is being held captive, do you know where you are?....” the manager of the store got stroppy again. “He is fine ! He’s just Concentrating on Painting” talking like an abusive husband. He went on. “We can show you some painting. However you have to bring your own miniatures, and they have to be Warhammer, none of this HeroQuest, those are not Warhammer figures!! and also you have to provide your own paints. AND they have to be Citadel Colour paints as well, because I have special medical solutions, if you ingest any paint then I am qualified to help....!”

*snap* “...JESUS.. FUCKING.. CHRIST.. I haven’t lived over 40 years by drinking paint!” I replied. Getting a tad frustrated with the attitude of this store manager. He goes on, can see he’s annoyed me, and starts trying to justify his attitude about his attitude. Before I got to angry, I said, “I’ll just leave it then.. I won’t bother now” and left.

I was so angry, that it almost.. almost.. put me off the entire hobby. 

Not long after, a couple of weeks, I go into a different Games... I mean Warhamme.. no.. you know what.. I don’t care what the sign above the door says, it’ll always be Games Workshop to me. (I also still call Morrisons, Safeway). I go into a different Games Workshop, because I wanted to get some paints, started chatting to the Manager there..... Defenses are up..... breathe... “Just. Want. To. Buy. Paint. ....I bet this guy is also an assho... wait. The manager of the Gloucester store is Awesome!!”

 We had a laugh for ages. We chatted about how things were in the 90s and all the things that had changed. He helped pick out a load of paint. We stood there and went through an old White Dwarf magazine I’d just found in a Charity shop, from ‘94  I mentioned about the previous guy in the local Games Workshop, barely through my sentence and he said “Ah. That’s Will.. yeah.. he’s.. erm..” He instantly knew who I was on about and had to stop himself from saying anything bad. He invited me back to the shop during the weeks or late nights said he’d show me some games and if I ever had any questions to get in touch with him. 

What a nice guy. It had gone from one manager making me almost turn my back on the hobby to another manager making me glad I didn’t.

I have been back a couple of times to my local store. I’ve learn’t not to get in to a conversation with the asshole. Just get the bits I need, or better yet.. wait till I go to Gloucester... 

and I’m still none the wiser on how to play any of the games.

[youmightaswell]

Die!

It’s All Glitchy 

This month everything seems to be glitchy.

My Nespresso machine stopped working so I assumed it was time to descale it. It had been over a year and I dread the descaling process. I did it once before and it was a nightmare. No matter how many times I tried the instructions it wouldn’t descale back in 2021. This time was no better. It would NOT descale. Finally I called the Nespress tech line and after a lengthy process they concluded it was wonky not because it even needed to be descaled, but because it was broken. This was a machine Yale gave me to me about three years ago when he upgraded. I had never had a machine to make coffee before but it fit perfectly in the tiny space in my kitchen. I am very, very opposed to change of any kind. So when they offered me 35% off a new machine, but alerted me they no longer made this version, I balked. So they said if I paid $65 they’d send me a box and I could mail it back and they’d fix it. Within a week it was back on my counter working perfectly. I know I am on borrowed time with it and just postponing the inevitable.

Likewise my landline (another relic) keeps dying. I just changed the battery last month so not sure why it isn’t working. I changed the battery again and it seems to have resuscitated it, but again, I know I’m on borrowed time. They no longer make this type of landline anymore either.

I changed my printer cartridge yet it keeps saying low ink and printing spotty pages. UGHHHHH!

It’s not even like Mercury is in Retrograde, so this is like my own personal retrograde hell.

And speaking of hell and being on borrowed time, the WORST thing happened this week. As you know I use a Blackberry Key2LE phone, because I like the keyboard. I cannot use a touchscreen and hate Apple products. This is like a Frakenphone in that it is on a Droid operatizing system and works exactly like a Droid, but has a Blackberry keyboard. I knew Blackberry would be ending so I bought two. They are quite expensive. Anyway, I’ve been using the same one for the last three years and quite happily. Lately it has been getting glitchy and stallingn but i figured it’s because Blackberry is defunct. Still, because it is on a Droid operating system, it still gets system updates; it just has no customer or tech service. I have (had) a GREAT cell phone store by me that sold and did service for all old Blackberry phones so I figured when this device died I just take my brand new in box on and have them transfer old to new.

However, I found out this week that store closed during the pandemic. After a long Google search there are no other dedicated cell stores that deal with older phones.

I lived in fear of what would happen when this one died. How would I get the new one turned on and all the stuff from my old one transferred? I am NOT tech savvy so googling did not help.

Anyway, the reason why Is started to care about all this is because this week I was at Marshall’s and found Pumpkin Spice Febreze (linen spray/refresher). I absolutely HATE fall and anything pumpkin spice scented but had never seen it so bought it. I stuck it in my huge tote with some candles, conditioner and epsom salt. AND MY PHONE. When I got home I realized everything smelled like Pumpkin Spice. The cap loosened and leaked all over the bag. My phone seemed okay until I started typing. Not only did it smell super strongly of Pumpkin Spice but three keys no longer worked: The K, I and R. This makes it nearly impossible to text or type.

Well, no one seems to know how to fix a Blackberry keyboard. I assume I can’t just pour alcohol on it to get under the keys and dissipate the stickness. I can’t risk fucking up the phone entirely and losing everything. At least the phone works. I just can’t type well on it. SoI set about trying to find someone, anyone to transfer the old phone’s date to the brand new-in-box version I had to no avail. I am in constant panic over this and am unsure what to do. Even if I wanted to get an iPhone I don’t know anyone who could transfer all my address contacts, pics, etc from the Blackberry to it.

And it certainly adds insult to injury that not only am I dealing with this tech-related stress, but I can’t stop smelling the cloying Pumpkin Spice scent. Every time I pick up my phone it wafts out of it.

I am truly in hell. Autumnal-scented hell. I’d say please shoot me, but the gun would probably stick and end up shooting my dog instead.

Oh, and my body is also glitchy. Saturday I woke with a migraine and by noon I had a fever and diarrhea, aches and no appetite. I’ve been sick for days. All Covid rapid tests are negative, although this morning I went to the kiosk on my block – did you know that in NYC there are free Covid PCR and rapid test kiosks on pretty much every other corner on major streets? – to get a PCR test. BECAUSE for the second time this month, I find out that I had dinner with someone with Covid. A few weeks ago a friend and I had dinner, sharing food, etc. He said he took a rapid test prior to coming because he knows I’m immunocompromised and it was negative. The next morning he was at urgent care super sick and tested pos for Covid. I assumed there’d be no way I would not catch it. But I did not. Yay! So I told this story to my lunch partner last week. Thankfully we had eaten outside together, but I regaled him with that story about how maybe I’m impervious to Covid. He said he has had it the year before so he wasn’t worried and didn’t get the new bivalent vax. (I did.) Anyway, after this weekend of feeling sick, he called me last night to tell me him and his wife tested pos and apparently he had had Covid when we ate lunch. So I assumed this weekend sickness I ‘ve had and all the weird bodily glitches these last few days was because I caught Covid from him. But again, all my tests are coming back negative. I just got a PCR which seems far more accurate so I’ll know in about 12 hours.

[amberisonfire]

Today was good.

Today was a good day. I went to my aunt and uncle's and helped them with their Google Chromecast, Paramount+ account, and my uncle's Bluetooth headpiece.

Then I went shopping with my mom & my aunt and got some cute things. We went to Walmart & Hobby Lobby. I could spend forever walking around in Hobby Lobby. The CEO sucks, but the store is really fucking nice.

Went out to eat at Five Guys. Their burgers are so good. Came home and spent time with my bestie. When she went to bed, I played co-op games with momma bear.

10/10 day.

Tomorrow I have a lot of stuff I need to get done.

• Articles

• Copy for the website

• Cleaning

• Maybe a little math studying

• Looking for colleges

• Setting up the new printer

• Trying out games with my bestie

I'm taking this week off of work because I'm tired. I have a few appointments this week, but nothing that should take too long. Otherwise, I'm just going to take time to focus on video games, catching up on some GH episodes, hobbies, and just relaxing.

When I start back to work the following week, I plan on waking up earlier so I can work earlier. 4-5k words a day max and less if I have side gigs. I want to be able to finish work by 3pm max.

I'm really excited about Pokemon Violet/Scarlet. So excited. There are a lotta games coming out that I'm excited about. Hopefully, I can find the time to play them all.

I want to come up with a set budget & schedule, figure out what I want to get people for Christmas, and develop a plan for the house. I'm thinking hardwood floor, taking room by room and making adjustments/fixes and decorating it, then moving on to the next room.

I also need to start thinking about taxes and how I want to pay them. I'm not really looking forward to it. It's stressful AF.

Anywho, I'm gonna end this day on an even more positive note by eating pizza at midnight and watching Fear thy Neighbor. People be crazy over the dumbest shit.