#on the one hand they will pay money for me to go into higher education | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kquil · 3 months

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REMUS LUPIN | 13:53 — ONE NEGRONI

SUM : to help pay the bills and your tuition fee, you get a new job at an elite club where the tips are incredibly generous. you’ve met a majority of the clientele already but they don’t match the stranger who ordered a simple negroni

TAGS. : mafia au ; modern au ; muggle au ; mobster remus ; mafia boss remus ; bartender reader ; reader is a hard working sweetheart that must be protected! ; catching remus’ eye ; remus lowkey wishes he can be the one to do the protecting ; and maybe more ; for now, he’s a low key stalker ; but sexy… ; stalking is bad, don’t do it! ; this is just fiction! ; but hey! remus owns an elite club! wooooo! ; i don’t know how to feel about my interpretation of the marauders as mafia men/mobsters ; it’s growing on me… ; also, im casting peter pettigrew as Dane DeHan in this!

LENGTH : 1.5k

It wasn’t as if you were new to the job; you had previously worked some years as a bar tender for a pretty well-established club, it paid well and managed to help pay for your rent and utility bills for most of your higher education years. However, all the built up stress and sleepless nights finally caught up to you. And you found yourself repeating a year, meaning that you needed to pay for your own tuition this year atop all the other monthly bills and necessities you keep up with. Perhaps it was the universe telling you that you needed to stop and change the direction of your life — you needed to choose an easier path, a doable path. But you were stubborn and also quite the optimist. So you kept at it, determined to finish what you started and earn your degree.

Yes, it was a let down but you were still breathing. Life just gets hard sometimes.

Thankfully, your past experience and phenomenal recommendation letter from your previous manager earned you another bar tending job at a very elite club, where tips were more than generous, considering the clientele composed primarily of the privileged class, some with multiple businesses under their belts, some who were phenomenal investors and some living off their parents’ money. You didn’t care to look too much into it, you were there to work and you were going to work hard and honestly.

The patrons surprisingly had very similar tastes and so, you fond yourself making the same types of drinks repeatedly. It made the job a lot easier and you were able to focus more on your delivery and interaction with customers, leading to more tips. Times were rough after having to accept defeat with your studies and repeating a year with your own funding but things were looking up. If you keep at it, you’ll make it out alive.

Your only complaint was the dress code. Make up was advised with a bold red lip but must be kept simple. You felt like a showgirl of some kind, squeezed into a high collar, white dress that came down to your mid thigh and with a low-cut, open back. The sleeves aren’t as long as you would like but, at least, you were permitted to use black kitten heel court shoe pumps as opposed to stilettos — your only saving grace, along with the higher salary and generous tips.

“Looks like we have a newbie working the bar,” Sirius points out, drawing all attention to your lively figure as you served drinks with a sweet smile and airy voice. A hum of curiosity vibrates through Remus’ chest and up to his lips at the sight of you, “certainly easy on the eyes, huh?” the tattooed, right-hand comments again as he looks towards the head of the table where Remus holds up his glass of Negroni.

“Very… innocent— a sweet, pretty, little thing,” James comments on Remus’ other side, which Peter grunts at in agreement as he takes a sip of his whiskey-sour.

“Looks like she doesn’t belong,” Peter nods before smirking and letting out a light laugh. The domino effect had James and Sirius laughing too as Remus smirks behind his glass before proceeding to down the rest of his drink.

“Exactly your type, eh? Moony?”

Sirius’ teasing comment is ignored. Instead, Remus calls for there server and orders another drink with an additional request that only confirms his smirking friend’s disregarded statement, “Have the new bartender personally deliver my drink for me as well,”

There was no higher authority that could dismiss the club owner’s personal request.

It was a strange request but you steeled your nerves and asked your fellow bartender to minister your unattended station while you made quick work on the order. It wasn’t unusual to receive requests like this from an isolated table that had privacy curtains for convenience. However, it was usually for drinks that you could make a show out of like a Holy Water cocktail, a Phoenix cocktail and even a Dragon’s Blood cocktail — a performance that you liked partaking in for the flammable aspect. But this was a Negroni. A cocktail of equal parts gin, saccharine vermouth and bitter Italian Campari. It’s a very egalitarian drink that was enjoyed by everyone, men and women alike, simple but elegant and definitely didn’t require a performance. Despite the odd summons, you were eager to fulfil your curiosity for who the client may be.

With a professional smile, you place refined mix in the middle of your circular tray with it’s classic orange garnish and set off to the table. The standby server, who made the order, saw your approach and quickly announced your arrival through the small front opening, momentarily disappearing into the shadow of the curtains. He reappears a moment later and pulls the heavy drapes fully apart, to reveal the guests from beneath the, once, opaque shadows.

To say that you were stunned was an understatement.

It was pure luck that you didn’t stutter in your stride and spill the cocktail prematurely. At the table was seated four men, all dressed in suits and ties that were in various states of disorder. Among their collection of suits, you could spot Armani and Tom Ford, however, you were sure that their unconventional styles were not the way those suits were intended to be worn.

One man with long, midnight-black hair and paper-pale skin had an array of mismatching tattoos littering both arms, revealed to you by his lack of a suit jacket and rolled-up sleeves. Another wore cute circular glasses and a cheeky grin with a suit jacket but no button up shirt and his chiseled upper body on full display. The last was a dirty blonde with piercing eyes and a deceivingly boyish smile. He had his ankle propped up on his opposite knee and several buttons undone where a tie should have been fastened over, his sleeves also rolled up as his suit jacket lay beside him.

It was the man at the head of the table, however, who stole your attention. If you had to guess who ordered such a simple but elegant drink, it would have to be him. He had his suit jacket draped over his broad shoulders and also had several of his top buttons undone, revealing some faded scars marked across his toned chest. His neat brunette hair and kind brown eyes gave him a deceivingly gentle appearance but his close company revealed a duplicity that caught and tensed your nerves.

You ignored the creeping goosebumps that prickled your skin, down from your toes all the way up to your ears.

Just do your job…

“Gentlemen,” you addressed kindly with a slight tilt of your head, which they acknowledged with their own hums of acknowledgement, their eyes lighting up in subtle surprise at your actions, “I have an order for a Negroni,” you raise your tray with the drink and scan the four for some indication as to who the order belonged to.

“That would be for me,” just as you suspected, it was the brunette with the kindest eyes but also the most ominous air. His voice is a deep and smooth lullaby, patient with it’s seduction on your senses. It was a trap that you resisted but are so hopelessly tempted to fall into, “Thank you, sweetheart,” he meets your eyes as you lower the drink into his large, outstretched hand. You notice how his knuckles and fingers are littered with scars also, some fresh, some faded with time and some hidden behind luxurious rings. Nevertheless…

He’s beautiful

She’s precious

“Not a problem,” you reassure with a soft voice, “have a good evening,” with your circular tray pressed against your side, you offer him an innocent smile and dismiss the butterflies in your stomach urging you to linger, “gentlemen,” you acknowledge the remaining three once more before offering another sweet smile. Turning on your heel, you leave the group and ignore the stares drilling holes into the back of your head.

She doesn’t know…

Once you were out of earshot, Remus turns to his closest friends and most trusted colleagues. They all share a look, one that conveys a unanimous thought. It isn’t long before their agreement manifests into knowing smiles and a ring of laughter shared between them.

“Don’t get greedy now, Moony,” Peter chimes in as Sirius throws his head back with a barking laugh.

“That’s not gonna stop him Wormtail, you know that; she’s a rare one,”

“So what’s the plan, bossman?” James asks with a raised brow as he brings his drink up to his lips.

Remus doesn’t answer right away, he simply requests that the curtain remain open so he can fix his fond gaze on you for the remainder of the evening. The group already knew what to do and sat at the edge of their seats, awaiting orders eagerly despite their slack shoulders and composed expressions. Only they were able to observe the shift in the air between them; it became charged as soon as you entered their circle and slowly started accelerating, parallel to the climbing affection in Remus’ eyes as he watches you smile at customers while making their drinks.

He takes a singular sip of his Negroni, bitterly sweet with a citrus edge.

Heaven in a glass. And made by an angel.

“I want a background check and profile put together immediately,” Remus finally orders, “I want to know everything there is to know about her,”

A/N : i downloaded some fics and read some over the holidays and there some mafia/mobster aus and i couldn’t help but picture remus as a mob boss, i’m sure im not the only one to ever imagine this but goddamn! why is it so easy to imagine sweet, gentle, responsible remus like that?!

NAVI.

TAGLIST : @melinajenkins @aastonishment @until-i-found-you @corp0real @celestcies @lovelydoveval @inlovewithremusjohnlupin @calums-betch @futurecorps3 @hihihi1112 @simpingforthe80s @yrluvjane @chaosofmanyfandoms @storyofaromance @loving-and-dreaming @somewereinthegalaxi @ashreblogsficshere @cassandra-nerezza-black @stray-bi-kids @ttkttt @notasadgirlipromise @desikudisworld @volturissideslut @arilxup88 @rosalyn-s

#remus lupin #☽ : timestamp #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fic #remus x reader #remus lupin x you #remus lupin imagine #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin fanfiction #the marauders #marauders #remus lupin mafia boss au #mafia au #mobster au

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dejwrld · 1 month

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⤷‧₊˚ 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐑𝐄𝐄 / everyone seems to be doing surprise pops up at y/n's wonderful job.

ʚ₊˚‧ ✿ ꒱ masterlist / previous chapter

┊ •° ੈ ⋆° ┊ warning readers discretion is advised — female reader, black reader (with descriptors), socialite au, rich au, profanity, mentions of oral (naoya receiving), naoya x fem!oc, mentions of other jujutsu kaisen characters, classism undertones, ceo/business mogul!naoya, player!naoya, teacher!reader, mdni

YOU WERE PLACING CRAYONS ON EACH DESK DESK AS YOU WERE WAITING FOR YOUR STUDENTS TO RETURN FOR LUNCH. You heard a knock on your classroom door, you hope one of your students didn’t eat something that upset their stomachs again. Your students had the thing where they would do anything to attempt to have lunch with you. From pretending to have tummy aches to begging you to come to spend lunch with them. You walked over to the door and opened it and when you saw Geto and Gojo, your eyes bulged out of your head.

“We had to drop off the snacks for you,” Gojo held up the bag full of different snacks they brought from the grocery store.

You noticed that both of them were dressed in suits. They must have taken the time out of their busy schedules to make sure their end of the deal was fulfilled. You smiled at the two of them taking the bag out of their hands. “So glad you guys came before my little ones returned from lunch. They would have lost their mind if they saw all these snacks.” You said.

“We had to make sure they got their snacks, so we agreed to stop by,” Geto explained, placing the bag he was holding on your desk.

“Have you been on social media lately?” Gojo asked as he took it upon himself to sit at the seat behind your desk.

“No, I don’t really get on it like that.” You admitted. “Social media makes everyone act like they’re above one another, you know?” You questioned.

Both Geto and Gojo shared a look, especially considering that they were verified users on all platforms across. From Twitter to Instagram, the duo had quite a following. “Or have you watched any talk shows these past couple of days?” Gojo asked.

“I mean, no. I have been busy with work and then also updating Shoko on what happened at the ball. You should have seen her face when I told her I got Naoya Zenin’s number and don’t plan on using it,” You carelessly shrug as you went back to placing crayons on each table for your students.

“Y/N, you’re the talk of the fuckin’ city and you don’t know that,” Geto said out loud before he passed you his phone.

When you saw article after article about the woman in the red mask, your body went into complete shock. You couldn’t believe that these many people were interested in knowing who you were. They most likely assumed you were an actress, higher education professor, or influencer, but here you were getting prepared to possibly wipe snot off someone's kid's face. “I didn’t think it was that serious. For all of that, I should have just lost the game.”

“It’s a little too late for that,” Gojo popped a lollipop from the bag of candy he brought in his mouth. “Naoya called me asking for your name and I told him no. It wouldn’t shock me that he’ll pay top-notch money just to find out who you are,” Gojo shrugged.

“Do you think I should text him? You know make a subtle joke about the situation,” You asked.

“Hell no,” Geto answered quickly. “He expects women to come to him first. Just let him come to you. His family owns over one hundred luxury hotels in the world, he’ll find you for sure. Perhaps, it’ll make this whole situation even more romantic.” Geto chuckled.

“I am not fit for the lifestyle you guys live. I love my normal life teaching little kids and going home to the comfort of my home to binge-watch some drama tv show,” You whined. “This is all your fault.” Your eyes glared at Gojo who was fishing through the candy bag.

“Me? I didn’t even do anything,” Gojo said while placing his hand on his chest in complete shock.

“You just had to choose Naoya Zenin for me to flirt with,” You said out loud. “Through all the men in the room.”

“Regardless of who I chose, it would be the same circumstances considering the number of bachelors that were at the ball. Kento probably would have had you in Malaysia right now. But Naoya is just the messiest option because he’s a messy person.” Gojo explained.

“That Fei woman is like his on and off again fling. They’ve known each other since they were younger, and many people in the city expected them to be married by now. Sadly that didn’t happen.” Geto explained.

“I would feel bad for practically stealing the attention of Naoya from her, but she was so rude.” You uttered.

“Which she shouldn’t be considering that she isn’t even the first heir to her family company,” Gojo bluntly admitted. He glanced at his watch before sighing, “We should get going though. The office will be begging for me to return.”

You placed the bucket of crayons down, “I have to stop in the main office to collect something from my mailbox, so I’ll walk with you guys.”

The walk towards the main office was filled with low chatter in the school halls. You got to know Geto and Gojo a little more and you were grateful to be able to have them to lean upon when Japan finally figured out who you were. You weren’t ready to be pushed into the limelight, but you had a feeling it was coming sooner than you thought. You waved at them as they were exiting the building and you finally stepped into the office. The secretary Mula's eyes got wide. Mula was a year younger than you and you genuinely thought she was one of the kindest people you’ve met while teaching at the school. You smiled at her before waltzing over to the mailboxes for each teacher and staff member in the school. You picked up the papers that were neatly put into your mail space and heard Mula clear her throat to gain your attention. You glanced at her as she motioned to the seats that were in the office for people who were waiting for something and when your eyes finally met with those brown ones, you nearly dropped all the papers in your hand.

There Naoya Zenin sat with a bouquet of red roses on his lap. It felt like time stopped for a moment. You felt stuck while clutching onto the papers that were in your hands so tightly. You watch him smirk at your reaction before he stood up to walk toward you. It was quite odd seeing him in casual clothing from the expensive suit he sported at the masquerade ball. His blue button-down shirt and light khaki-colored bottoms went well with the demeanor he was trying to pursue. You assumed that he didn’t want to get dressed in his usual suit and tie attire to draw too much attention to himself as he wandered the school halls. “It’s really wonderful being able to finally put a name to the face. So, let me properly introduce myself, I’m Naoya Zenin.”

“I am well aware of who you are, more confused on why you’re here.” You took a step forward not wanting your business to be displayed in the office, but you surely weren’t taking him outside to talk. Paparazzi probably was waiting to snap pictures of Naoya. “Actually, let us have this talk in my class. Please follow me Mr. Zenin.” You professionally said through gritted teeth.

“Should I tell another teacher to bring your children from lunch?” Mula asked.

“Yes, thank you.” You said while dragging Naoya by the arm outside the office.

The walk to your classroom was filled with silence. You didn’t want any teachers passing by to hear the conversation, they already were glancing at Naoya with complete shock as is. When you entered the classroom, you closed the door right after he stepped in. You watched as he took in his surroundings.

“When Gojo mentioned you had a teaching job, I thought you were a professor,” Naoya admitted as he let his fingertips drag alongside your desk that was filled with many small gifts from students.

“No, just a regular English teacher who teaches five-year-olds,” You admitted. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think I’m doing here?” Naoya asked. His head cop to the side in a manner that caused you to roll your eyes.

“When a woman doesn't text you after getting your number, you do know you aren't supposed to go hunt for them and go on live television asking for a manhunt for her,” You said. “That isn’t quite romantic.”

“I find it very romantic,” Naoya comfortably sat down behind your desk. “You’re not understanding how you’ve been running laps around my mind since that night. I just can’t describe the feeling, but you’re different from the usual flings I have had.”

“I’m not a fling. Another thing it was just a game that I made up so the others and I could cure our boredom at the ball.” You stepped forward firmly placed your hands on the desk and leaned forward. “I have no desire to fall in love with you, Naoya.”

“Just give me one date, just one.” He says. “If you go through with the date and hate it, I won’t bother you again. But if you do enjoy yourself, just please give me a chance.” Naoya says as his brown eyes soften while glancing up at you from the seat behind the desk.

You always wondered if any other women got this side of him. Begging for a date while holding a bouquet of roses. “Fine, one date! But I don’t want no one in our business, so it better be as secretive as it could get.” You told him.

Naoya opened up to speak but was interrupted by the sound of children running in high on the energy of the food they consumed. When they saw you and Naoya, you could hear the wave of “ohhhhh’s” from them. Some even playfully make jokes only they would understand. “Is this your husband L/N-Sensei?” One student curiously asked.

“Settle down class, please take your seats. Two of my lovely friends dropped off some amazing treats for me to give you guys at the end of the day.” You cheerfully said as your crowd erupted in cheers.

“But you must be on your best behavior while this gentleman reads you the afternoon book of the day? He’ll be reading one of my favorite books.” You glanced over at Naoya whose face went completely red.

You smirked in his direction. He actually thought he was getting a date with you that easy. You walked towards the bookcase searching for the book. “Everyone please go to the carpet so Mr. Zenin can read to you guys. No pushing each other, okay?”

You could hear the sound of little feet rushing to the carpet quickly. You went back to searching for the book and you soon felt the presence of Naoya next to you. “Making me work for the date, huh?” He whispered into your ear.

“Mhm, dates with me can’t be bought with a fancy bouquet of roses and gifts. You have to work for your time with me.” You said as you pulled A Bad Case of Stripes by David Shannon out for Naoya to read.

Naoya collected the book from your hand, his fingertips lightly brushing against yours sending a warm wave to tumble down your spine. You motioned him to go sit at the back of the classroom where the students were waiting patiently. In the front of the rug was the chair where you usually sat to dramatically tell the story. “They like when you add animated sounds and voices, by the way, it helps their adorable imaginations grow.” You gave him a cheeky grin.

You watched as he swallowed a huge lump that formed in his throat before walking over to the students. Your students weren’t that intimidating, they just all had very curious minds. They weren’t afraid to challenge someone with a rhetorical question that would have their small minds thinking. So, you were sure that they weren’t going to eat Naoya alive up there—just make him sweat a bit. Especially when it was a person that knew their lovely teacher.

You would let him start reading the book so you could place a coloring worksheet on each table. As Naoya's lips parted to start reading the book, a hand shot up waiting to be picked. Naoya glanced up from the book in a pure panic to look at you and your face holding back laughter. You saw a question from one of your students was coming. You extended your hand indicating that he could answer whatever question your student had.

“Uh—yes?” Naoya said and you watch as the student would glance back at you and then at Naoya.

“Are you two together like that princess book L/N-Sensei read to us yesterday?” The kid asked.

“You don’t have to answer that. It’s an extremely inappropriate question to ask during story time,” You said out loud gaining the attention of your student who was a giggling mess.

But Naoya didn’t back down from the little kid’s curious question. He closed the book he was holding briefly, before speaking once again. “Did the prince and princess have a happily ever after at the end?” He asked as he glanced around the students sitting down for an answer.

“Yes.” It seems they said in unison.

“Then I hope in the near future we do end up like the princess and prince in the book.” He flashed a kind smile and you wanted to facepalm yourself as your students gush at his response.

They were supposed to have your back, not let this guy charm them with that grin. You continued doing what you were doing as Naoya was reading the book to them. Even taking your tips to add different fun voices as the narrator to gain faint laughs from your students. You sat at your desk watching him read and you couldn’t help but let a smile sneak onto your face.

It was one thing that made your heart feel warm and that was seeing each of your students smile and be happy. Naoya surely was working for that date. Each word Naoya articulates, he expressed with such a foolish fine. It was as if your students were watching their favorite cartoons. By the end of the book, your students were circling around Naoya’s seat begging him to read them another story.

“I actually have to leave now kiddos, but you have to promise me one thing,” Naoya said and your eyebrows furrowed together in curiosity about what he was about to say to the children.

You watched as he got out of the seat he was in front of the students and kneel down to their heights. Each of your students scooted closer to him to hear his words you couldn’t tell what he was telling the students. You could tell that it was something regarding you due to the fact that some students would giggle and glance over at you.

Naoya would give them a smile before he’s standing up and waltzing over you with that same foolish smile. “So, I’ll pick you up this Friday evening?” He asks.

With your arms crossed over your arms, you would simply just nod. With your students watching in awe like they were reimagining the moments in the book you read to them last week—you couldn’t shoot the man down in front of them. Especially when it seems he had won their hearts over.

“Friday it is.” You said returning the small so your students wouldn’t suspect anything.

“Great, I’ll send a car to pick you up.” Naoya walked towards your classroom door but your words stopped him.

“What did you tell them?” Your head motioned to your students who at this point were playing with each other and gushing over the epic storyline Naoya just acted out.

“Just to make sure you don’t bring around another prince,” Naoya winked at you before he waltz out of your classroom with a date set up with you and the trust of your little five-year-olds.

#naoya zenin x reader #jjk x reader #jjk fanfic #female reader #jjk x black reader #naoya zenin fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #black reader #naoya x reader #⊹˳⁺ ♡ 𝒻𝒶𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒸𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃 𝒸𝓇𝑒𝒶𝓉𝒾𝑜𝓃𝓈

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russosafehaven · 1 year

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Something’s There

Pairing: Billy Russo x Fem!Reader

Content: Fluff, Education Support Reader, Soft!Billy, Career day but Frank and Maria are both busy to Billy comes in for Jr instead

Warnings: None

POV: Second

BR Taglist: @judig92 @snowkestrel

Hands filled the air as Mr Russo spoke. You admired the man, what he had became from years of hardship. Questions from the kids came out from every which way. He was the uncle of one of your students, Junior, and it was clear that the boy adored him. As he spoke about his time in the system and how it formed his goals you wished for an ounce of his determination. As Billy finished up the bell rang out and the students all fell silent.

“Alright, that’s class you’re all welcome to leave”

Students packed up and Junior had walked up to you before he left. You smiled quietly giving him some money for lunch as you always did. It wasn’t like Maria and Frank didn’t give him any, but some students stole it from him routinely and the higher ups did nothing. Claiming it was just boys being boys. So you gave him some each day, the young boy being to noble to tell his parents.

“You should ask my Uncle Billy out, I saw how you were looking at him”

With that the boy walked off with his bag in tow. All the parents and caregivers who had come in had now left, yet Billy hadn’t. Your eyes met with his as he walked over to your desk. A small clutter of papers, packed lunch and small trinkets from your students decorating the wood.

“What can I help you with Mr Russo?”

You tried to keep your eyes off of him, not wanting to overstep. He was your students uncle, not a piece of meat. No matter how delectable he looked.

“Is it normal for teachers to pay their students?”

He smiled and you rolled your eyes at his tone. Gesturing to a chair Billy took a seat. Dragging your lunch over to you, you opened it. Digging in while thinking of what to say.

“Junior’s been getting bullied by some kids. I’ve told the principal but he hasn’t done anything, so when his lunch money gets stolen I give him some. He’s a sweet kid, smart, creative. He’s going places. I’ve tried to tell him to tell his parents but he’s stubborn. Tells me that he can handle it. It’s not a lie that he can but I’m just worried it’s going to advance. There’s only so much I can do to help out but because he’s not in imminent physical danger I could lose my job if I go directly to his parents”

You dropped your fork and let out a heavy sigh. It was only a year ago you were teaching his older sister, Lisa, before she went to high school. So now he doesn’t have the protection from a sibling.

“I’ll see if I can talk to him. His dads mighty stubborn as well”

You smiled and he leaned back in his chair. The room was large enough for around 25 students as well as the teacher and yourself. The teachers desk was in the centre front while you were off to the left. You helped run most classes like this as the teacher, Mr Orson, didn’t like it.

“Well I’ve met his mother and she’s a saint, so I’d be concerned if it was from her”

You laughed quietly and Billy responded. Not a fake pity laugh, but a genuine one. A smile crossed your face as you looked at him.

“So how’d you get into the education support line of work?”

The door creaked open and you saw Junior poke his head through. When he saw Billy he gave you a thumbs up and left.

“One of my foster parents was an ES member, she used to take me to volunteer with her. I loved it, helping the younger kids. Killer leg workout too with all the laminating I do. In all honesty I struggled pretty severely when I was a teenager. Helping the kids made me feel happy and content. So I decided to follow in her path. Now I’m here, subject to the misogyny in the workspace but I’ve got my kids and I love ‘em”

He nods as you talk. As you take another bite of you lunch he spots something in your desk, picking it up to examine it. It’s a little army figure that Junior had given you. A sniper to be exact.

“Huh, Junior’s missing one of his snipers”

The statement from Billy causes you to snort. Instantly you apologise but Billy’s laughing at you.

“It’s actually Junior’s. He uh, gave it to me after I had gotten mugged. Told me the sniper would protect me no matter where I was, just like his uncle protected his dad overseas. Gotta say meeting you it makes a lot more sense”

He places the finger down and faces it towards you. You pick it up and roll it around in your hands a few times. Billy looks at you with dark eyes, watching as you place it back down. Leaning back in your chair comfortably.

“Do you want to get a drink with me?”

You choke on your food and he retracts his statement. Quickly you shut down any hesitations. Trying to gain your breath back before you say anything.

“No no no it’s okay. It was just unexpected and when Junior came for his lunch money he actually told me I should go on a date with you”

As you speak Billy stands up, walking over to the door and opening it. Behind the door stands a flustered Junior. He walks in, realising he’s been caught. You shake your head as he comes to sit down in the sit Billy once was.

“Mind explaining?”

Billy asks, leaning against your desk. Junior fidgets around before answering. Neither you or Billy are mad and it’s evident. The kids comfortable with both of you, he knows you well and he knows he isn’t in trouble. You’re both just wondering why he’s done this.

“Well my Uncle Billy is always alone and I thought maybe if he had someone he’d feel less sad. Plus it’d be really cool if you were my aunt so I may have asked my ma and pa to say they were busy so that Uncle Billy could come in. It obviously worked you two seem comfortable around each other”

Billy claps him on the back and you’re left open jawed. You knew Junior was intelligent, you’d seen it before. Not only in academics but his social capabilities. To know that you’re meeting with the attractive CEO had been masterminded by an 11 year old left you shocked.

“I’ll say this kid, you’re definitely your fathers son”

The three of you sat for the rest of the lunch break chatting. Junior was happy to be with his favourite ES member and his favourite Uncle. With every anecdote shared you found yourself longing to be apart of their lives, more than just an acquaintance and superior.

#billy russo #billy russo imagine #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #the punisher imagine #billy russo fluff #the punisher #x reader

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revengeghoulette · 22 days

Text

Ghoul School

I don’t know what this is. It’s not a story? But it's not not a story. Is it a headcanon?? Words. Enjoy words.

Co-written with @gottagho-st

Rating: Gen

Pairing: Rain x Dewdrop, they’re just being domestic

TW/CW: School. Homework.

A/N: Started this last year when I was balls deep in uni and struggling, and I needed soft thoughts I guess? Enjoy. This is turning into a sort of Ghoul School AU kind of. I have another fic in the works that ties into this one

Tagging: @jazz-bazz because educatiiooonnnn haha @obsidianghoul @totallynotmystuff

Cirrus was a young ghoul when she helped open up one of the first schools in the abbey. She was born with higher knowledge, and is a master of all subjects. Cirrus rose amongst the educational ranks pretty quickly and became headmaster at one point. She left it all behind to follow her passion, music. Now, as part of the Ghost Project, it’s her responsibility to make sure that all touring ghouls pass Ghoul School, a special school where they’re taught how to glamor, behave like humans, and money management/money math, along with other subjects necessary to survive the human world for long periods of time.

New summons Aurora and Phantom have to attend Ghoul School prior to being allowed to go on the road with the Ghost Project. Not only does she help Aurora and Phantom, but she also secretly helps Dew with his college classes. Dew attends study lessons under the pretense that he’s there to help Cirrus teach.

Having so much experience under her belt, Cirrus is very patient with them. Aurora and Phantom are a handful, and love to make things unnecessarily difficult. Dew’s in the room with them when they both break down, exhausted and confused by humans.

"What do you mean they don't have tails?" Phantom complains

“What do you mean they don’t just bite people when they don’t like something?” Aurora chimes in.

"Humans are SO weird." They complain in unison.

Dew looks at Cirrus who looks close to throwing a book at them. Sure, she’s patient, but she has a limit. Laughing, Dew takes over the lesson and helps the young ghouls understand certain things, and also threatens them by saying they’re never gonna see the topside unless they start paying attention.

After this little breakdown, he starts studying elsewhere.

Dew’s favorite place to study or read class material is the greenhouse. His little spot is up in the tree. Mountain comes and goes, but doesn’t interrupt him. Mountain assumes he’s just hanging out or hiding from one of the ghouls.

It’s his favorite spot to read for his English literature classes. Nature helps him focus, and while they have a nice courtyard and what not, it's too exposed. The greenhouse allows him to be protected from the elements. His favorite time to go and read is when it's raining outside. The pitter patter of the rain on the glass relaxes him and allows him to focus on the material. Dew loves to romanticize school work whenever possible.

Dew’s secret is well kept.

That is, until one day, Rain is out looking for him

Dew’s been missing for the entire day. Rain’s looked for him in the greenhouse, in a practice room, at the chapel even. He’s nowhere, and no one has seen him either.

Where the fuck is he? It’s almost curfew. Rain thinks. Well, ‘curfew.’ It’s Wednesday, their weekly movie night, and they’re usually snuggled in bed by 8pm ready to watch whatever the next movie was. He’ll just have to wait for him in his room and see if he shows.

It’s past 11pm when Dew enters his room.

“Rain, what are you doing here?” surprise in Dew’s voice.

“I was waiting for you. It’s Wednesday…” Rain leads on, concern lacing his voice noticing Dew’s dark circles and slumped shoulders.

Dew doesn’t answer right away, he just removes his clothes and crawls into bed, pressing his face against Rain’s chest, “mmsry’

They snuggle under the sheets as Rain combs Dew hair. “Where were you today?”

“Uhh, well”

“C’mon baby, talk to me. Where do you keep disappearing to? You think I don’t notice, but you’ve been going somewhere for the last few days and it’s starting to worry me,” Rain basically begs.

Dew sits up on the bed and looks at Rain. He chuckles unsure of how Rain might receive the news. “I.. I’m taking online classes. I've got a few exams coming up, so I've been studying. Pinky promise not to tell?”

Rain looks at Dew for a moment before giggling. He knows Dew’s a nerd. No matter how much he tries to hide it, there’s a little sparkle in his eyes when he's learning something new. He’s inquisitive and will keep asking questions until he’s satisfied. He talks about random subjects he spent all night googling, just because he was a little curious. Rain knows how much Dew loves to learn, the others do too, but not to the same degree.

He snuggles Dew and tells him he’ll keep his secret. He pulls him back into his arms, and whispers how proud of him he is. Rain is beyond proud of his mate for taking initiative and getting a degree. He’s there to support him no matter what.

“Let me help you study next time, my little nerd. I have a feeling you don’t take enough breaks."

"Next time Rainy, we sleeps right now. My brain is fried, and we have practice tomorrow.”

And with that, they went to sleep, embracing each other.

The days go on, and Dew keeps sneaking out to go study. Rain has started placing snacks into his bag, and cute notes to remind him to take breaks and stay hydrated. Dew asks Rain to help him study, but it has to be in a secluded location so they hide in the room, in the greenhouse tree, or meet in the abandoned chapel for study sessions. Cirrus takes them through hidden passages to a little nook in the library where Dew can focus and study. Rain brings him tea or water every couple of hours. He’ll sit and chat with him to give him a bit of a break so he doesn’t burn himself out.

Rain can sense that there’s something stressing Dew out. He’s been fidgeting since he woke up, which in turn woke him up. Grabbing hold of his hands, Rain asks Dew what’s bothering him.

“Oh, it's nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. Something’s obviously bothering you.”

“I have my final project due in like two days and I haven’t had time to start it because of chores, rehearsal, and helping the dumb-dumbs pass school. Did you know they’re actually kinda really not smart?”

“Babe, they’re gonna be okay. We need to focus on getting you through your own classes. Is there anything I can do?” Rain offers.

Shaking his head, Dew declines the help. He gets up and gets ready for the long day ahead of him.

Rain didn't have chores to do, so after saying goodbye to Dew, he hacked Dew's laptop. He found the project guidelines and got to work. Only taking a break for lunch, Rain created an outline and started collecting information and sources.

Dew doesn’t return to his room until a little after 7pm. He’s drained, but he brightens up a little when he sees Rain on his bed cross legged with a laptop in front of him typing intensely.

"Rain what are you doing?"

"Oh hi babe, welcome home! I'm helping you with your project!” Dew tilts his head in confusion, “Take a shower, rest for a little and I'll prep some food for us. I have a feeling you haven't had dinner," On cue, Dews stomach groans. "I thought so. We're doing this together. It's on marine life and I think we both have some knowledge on that," Dew just looks at him in admiration, and he’s positive Rain took one of his energy drinks because there’s no way he's this excited to work on a project. Dew mockingly salutes him as he pivots and makes his way into the showers.

After the shower, he lays in bed for a bit, letting the exhaustion of the day roll off his body. Rain comes back into the room holding a tray with spaghetti and a piece of meat from the recent hunt. He also brought a cheese board and bagged snacks for later.

How can he be his mate? He's so generous and loving and he's helping him with homework. He’s going above and beyond.

They spend the rest of the night working on Dew's project. They fall asleep with textbooks littered all over the bed, laptop still playing lo-fi music.

#the band ghost #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #ghost band #Revenge Works #Nerd Dew #ghost fanfiction #ghost the band #ghost fandom #ghost bc #cirrus ghoulette #aurora ghoulette #phantom ghoul

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gothoffspring · 1 year

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Suraj Kennedy for @rainymoodlet's Kiss Me in Komorebi Age: 33 Sign: Virgo Occupation: Freelance Photographer/Community Garden Enthusiast Traits: Creative, Loves the Outdoors, Overachiever Location: San Myshuno

more info under the cut! (like, a lot more.. too much probably)

bio:

Suraj was adopted when he was 5 years old, and raised in the heart of the Spice District in San Myshuno. He has two sisters with whom he is very close. He's currently working on saving up enough money to go back to school to pursue a serious career in photography. Nature is his best friend and greatest coping mechanism for when things get tough. He was employed at the San Myshuno Botanical Garden for over five years, and still does certain photography projects for them. Doesn't mind getting his hands dirty (literally, not figuratively). Is a very frequent visitor of the community garden space, and loves tending to his garden. He's a serious overachiever and has no room for slacking off or failure of any kind. Missed out on the opportunity to go to school due to lack of funding and the need to help out with the care of his siblings due to a family situation. He currently lives on his own in a one bedroom apartment, located in the Arts Quarter. He's been working as a freelance photographer for a few years now and takes excellent wedding photos, despite his interest really lying in nature photography. Brides just happen to pay a bit more than flowers. He's been able to save up a bit of money and is finally almost ready to pursue his dream of higher education. Happened upon the submission form for Kiss Me in Komorebi by accident on the internet, and decided to give it a shot without many expectations. Until he actually started looking into Daniel Taylor himself, and now he's only a BIT smitten and very excited to meet him...

fun facts:

He can often be found wearing the colors brown and green. Floral patterns are also a must. He greatly enjoys corduroy pants and spiffy shirts, but also likes to dress down at times too (while still looking incredibly polished. The dude does not leave his apartment without all 3 of his earrings and his favorite cologne lovingly patted behind his ears)

Highly interested in UFO's. One of the things on his bucket list is to one day eat at the UFO Crash Site Diner in Oasis Springs.

Has a journal he writes in every single day without fail. Usually doing some sort of brainstorming exercise or spilling out his heart and soul.

He also makes lists meticulously. He spends so much time making plans and writing them down that sometimes he lacks on the execution part.

His dad is like, an ALARMINGLY huge fan of Daniel Taylor and may fangirl just a little upon finding out his son is about to go on a reality tv show with the man.

His perfect night consists of Yahtzee, making homemade popcorn, watching nature documentaries and curling up with a very cute person on the couch.

Is an apple nerd, wouldn't dare touch an android (is this his weakness djfklds im kidding)

Loves carnivals, fairs and carnival games! If a boardwalk is involved, you've won him over completely. All of his closest friends have won him at least one stuffed animal from the fair.

Enjoys not having to wear pants in his own apartment ❤️ (we love a relatable king)

Extremely scared of dogs due to being bit when he was a kid, but stick a cat in front of him and he's picking them up immediately.

Huge museum enthusiast and wants to visit as many as he can!

#ts4 #the sims 4 #ts4 edit #kmikapp #ts4 screenshots #the sims 4 edit #Suraj kennedy #holy fucking shit LORE.....#ive never written this much about any of my oc's. oh my god #shan what have you done!!!#anyways i love him A Lot and im so excited to see him in kmik i may actually die????#these shots came out so nice tysm wooldawns preset ilysm 💘

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hezuart · 1 year

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Why did you switch from animation to reviews? Also, do you still plan on doing CGI like you mentioned multiple times?

oH BOY..... you may need to sit down for this one

So it all started back in 2012. I was around 14 years old and just saw Rise of the Guardians and Wreck it Ralph. The stories, the characters, the world-building, the animation... now I never really went to movie theaters as a kid, but as a teen I started going and I instantly fell in love.

I went to community college for a few years and made some amazing friends. Loved some of my teachers and we participated in fun events like the 24-hour challenge and Campus Movie Fest. I had gotten in the top picks for Campus Movie Fest at some point and was supposed to go to the Cannes Film Festival in France to showcase my short film, but then the pandemic hit and it got canceled indefinitely.

So get this, for community college, I got a certification in 3D Animation and Video Game development. It's basically an AA degree but without general ed. (Why do you need general ed to get a degree in something? Math and PE have nothing to do with Animation. College is ridiculous. People have to pay you more simply because you were forced to spend more money in college. Wild.) Out of the 20 classes I had taken to get this certification, only 3 of those courses were hands-on 3D animation. And only one of those courses was hands-on video game development and I dropped out of that class because it was PC only and I only had a Mac at the time. I applied to the class without realizing it was accommodating only to PCs. So even my certification is barely reaching the basics for the title of it, but I did take another online course or two for 3D animation which I have a different certification for.

Now even with my 3D animation, I was never taught the physics engine. I was never taught hair or cloth simulation, but I do have modeling, rigging, animating, and texturing experience. For gaming, I have very little experience. I've only modeled things and found my way around Unity, but otherwise, I suck at coding. I hate coding with a passion. Making a video game without coding isn't really possible.

Now, when the pandemic hit, a lot of things were shutting down. I had no idea where I wanted to go next. People kept asking me where I was going for my higher education, but I kept getting warned not to waste money on college if you're trying to become an artist, especially at University. It's a money pit, and competition is so high, you're not guaranteed a job, you're just gonna be in debt. Even colleges like Cal Arts, who charge over $1K per class, I've been told are a "Pay to get in" kind of place. Where the money is used to nab professionals from their work to teach students or talk about their company or programs, and through that, you get a bigger chance to get your foot in the door because you know someone. I've unfortunately been told that's the more realistic way to get into animation: networking. If you're a shy introvert who doesn't know any famous people, you need to be extremely talented and unique to stand out to get the chance of being noticed. I don't really want to suck up to people nor do I want to waste thousands of dollars and 5 more years on college that I may not even need (let alone be able to afford) especially if there are online classes that may be even more valuable.

Now after I got out of college and started applying a few places, I discovered a LOT of unfortunate information.

Most animation these days is done overseas. South Korea, India, Japan, and Canada are the big ones.

Invader Zim, Steven Universe, Miraculous Ladybug, The Simpsons, OK KO, Star vs the Forces of Evil, Kipo and the Age of the Wonder Beasts, Adventure Time, Twelve Forever, and the Powerpuff Girls Reboot were animated in South Korea. The Ghost and Molly Mcgee is animated in Canada.

(The first four seasons of the Simpsons were animated in America until it switched to South Korea and India.)

2D traditional animation is no longer viable. Puppetry is the industry standard because it's the cheapest. Luckily, Toon Boom Harmony has allowed us to push the boundaries of 2D puppetry. Puppetry these days, if done well, can look really great, like Tangled the Series, but if you don't have Toon Boom Harmony, you're probably not gonna be hired.

Not even all 3D is made in the USA. If it's Disney, Dreamworks, or Pixar, then it's usually USA. But streaming service movies, like Sea Beast, Kid Cosmic, The Willoughbys, and Klaus, while they claim to be a "Netflix Original" that "Netflix Animation" animated, that's a lie. Klaus was animated by Yowza! Animation in Canada. The Willoughbys: Bron Animation, Canada. Kid Cosmic: Mercury Filmworks, Canada. Sea Beast: Sony Pictures Image Works, Canada. (X)

Go Go Cory Carson is written and storyboarded in America, but the animation is shipped out to be done in France. Sonic Boom is also French Animated.

Even Sony Pictures? Open Season, Surf's Up, Spiderman: Into the Spiderverse, Cloudy with a Chance of Meatballs, SMurfs, Hotel Transylvania, Over the Moon, The Angry Birds Movie, Sea Beast? Sony Pictures Imageworks is based in Canada. They're doing all the animation for them. It's not animated in America, it's merely funded by them.

I should also clarify: I only want to participate in stylized animated media. I don't want to do CGI for hyper-realistic films, which eliminates most of the animation jobs out there these days. It's just not my thing. The insane amount of details and uncanny valley are just so unappealing, I can't do it.

The closest animation studios are still far away. Most companies are located in LA. I'm over 7+ hours away from there. LA also has a high poverty rate, terrible air quality, is overcrowded, and is just generally not a good place to live, especially if you're low middle class. You're not gonna survive there.

Pixar is located in Emeryville, a few minutes north of San Fransisco city. Emeryville is the most crime-ridden city in that area. They tell you not to walk home alone at night. You're more likely to get robbed there than anywhere else according to the population ratio there. There are a lot of gangs that hide up there, and there's a lot of poverty there, even outside of San Fransisco. It's basically a trash pit. Not an ideal place to live, and commuting through 3-hour SF city traffic is also not gonna work. (X)

I have also been informed some people who work at Pixar are petty that the interns use their facility. Pixar has a heated pool, soccer field, gymnasium, and a few other nice things on their property. I was informed there was a person or two who got mad that an intern was using their basketball court.... when the intern was on break. As though they weren't part of Pixar, as though they had no right to touch the property. Apparently, they also used to make the interns push around little tea carts to serve refreshments as a way to "talk to the fellow animators" to probably get them interacting, but hearing that the interns were basically chored with butler duty to bother the animators hard at work seems like such a forced thing. That makes me uncomfortable. Of course, the person who told me these stories has been working with Pixar for over a decade or two now, so things could be very different as the years went on. Pixar itself on the inside of the animator building is gorgeous. They all decorate their office spaces in crazy ways, it looks like a movie set. But they have a bar and "whiskey club". They're apparently allowed to drink at work and have often had parties that got a little out of hand. There's also an old chain smoker room where the founders used to play poker and spy on people outside of their room with hidden cameras; I've even been inside. I don't think they use it anymore, though I'm not totally sure. Some of this info was fascinating, but the drinking made me uncomfortable. I kinda want to work with sober people here.

The sex ratio in the animation industry is also interesting and unfavorable. 70% of the animation and art school ratio is women, but only 34% of the actual animation workforce is women. 34% female to 66% male. More women study animation than men, but more men get hired and hold positions than women. Animation, ironically, has always been a male-dominated workplace. This unfortunately contributes to the "you have to know someone" or "be rich" to get-in situation. Men know a lot more men and not as many women. So the 30 to 40-year-old guys hire the other guys they know rather than a young poor girl with a passion. This makes it even more difficult for me to get in. (X)

20th Century, Netflix Animation, Nickelodeon, Cartoon Network, Bento Box, Vanguard Animation, Universal Studios, Titmouse, 6 Point Harness, ShadowMachine- all LA / South California.

There are a few places I could apply to, but what they do, I just don't care for. Niantic(Pokemon Go), Lucasfilm(Effects), Whiteboard Animation(Marketing), Sharpeyeanimation (Marketing), EA games (Mass Effect, Battlefield, Dragon Age 2, all those hyper-realistic war, sports, or fantasy games.)

So whether it's outside of the USA or within the USA, I need to move. I don't have the money for that yet.

Just find a company that does remote work, right? It should be easy, especially in pandemic times! Wrong. Most animation companies don't permit remote work. It's probably a security issue. But I've done research on this. The only big animation company I've found (so far) that allows remote work (or is HIRING for remote work) is Mainframe Studios in Canada. They have a 3D animation job list, and I guess they focus on animating Barbie movies(???). (X) But that's about it. And even if you're a remote worker, there's a high likely hood you still need a Visa to be allowed to work for a company belonging to another country. So that's a whole other legal process to deal with.

Disney is becoming a huge corporate monopoly over American animation. They bought Blue Sky only to kill them off. (Disney also just recently laid off 7,000 people due to their stock price drop and failed movies they released the past year with deliberately bad marketing for political reasons. (X) Disney also bought Pixar and is pushing for sequels because weird or bad, sequels and terrible live actions make them a LOT of money. Did you know Disney's terrible Lion King CGI remake is amongst the top 10 highest-grossing movies ever made? It's criminal. (X)

Because Disney is such a big name in the USA, there's a huge association of animation = children's media, which is not true. Animation at the Oscars also has its own category, when it's not a genre, is a medium. Disney often wins at the Oscars too because no one sees the other animations. Granted, Disney has an insane marketing budget in comparison, but it's clear no one cares to seek out animation outside of heavy CGI live-action these days. No small-time studios, no limited releases, no anime. The fact that Disney also now OWNS the Oscars is SUS as hell. (The fact that Disney-owned ABC threatened the Oscars, forcing them to cut 8 categories or else there wouldn't be a show that year is wild. There isn't even an oscar for stuntmen. What the fuck, Hollywood?) (X)

Dreamworks nearly went bankrupt and sold itself to Comcast back in 2013. Comcast also owns Illumination. Dreamworks has been focusing on making bad tv show adaptions of their IPs. So yes people, Jack would sooner meet the Minions than meet Elsa. Disney is the biggest corporate monopoly, but it's definitely not the only one. The animation industry in America is snuffing out its competition by buying it out for itself. It's insane the kind of power they have.

Competition is HIGH. Because of this, the only ways to get in? If you're rich or you know someone. Pixar gets over 3,000 intern applications every summer. Less than 100 are seen by actual hiring managers. The most interns Pixar has ever taken in a single year were 12. The least they ever took in a single year was two. A 12 to 3,000 ratio is not favorable. That's a 3% chance to get into a big-shot animation company.

And again, because remote work isn't permissible to new hires, you need to live in the area to commute to the campuses. This is one of the reasons why LA is so crowded.

If you get into an animation company purely remote and maybe even for a different country? You are the luckiest person alive.

Programs are expensive. The animation industry is very strict on what programs they use. The industry standard for 2D puppetry is Toon Boom Harmony; the industry standard for 3D animation is Maya, and the industry standard for video game development isn't as clear but Unity is one of them.

Some of these programs are free, as long as you are a student. If you are attending college or a certain online program, you can use your school-issued email through them to apply to get the program for free for about a year. Otherwise, if you're using it to make your own animations solo?

Autodesk Maya: $225 a month or $1,785 a year (X)

and guess what? Maya removed its free render service. Arnold is now built in by default, however, if you want to BATCH render (Meaning render a full scene or several slides) it will slap it's ugly watermark over it.

Fun fact, this very rendered watermark can be seen accidentally in a single frame for the Kingdom Hearts Frozen cutscene

Well, you need to batch render if you're trying to animate so let's see what Arnold costs- $50 monthly to $380 annually.... are you kidding me?! The rendering PLUG-IN BUNDLED TO MAYA COSTS MORE TO USE THAN THE OWN PROGRAM?! (X)

Now, there are other rendering plug-ins you can probably use with Maya. But they all have their ups and downs and their own costs as well. (X) Pixar's Renderman is $595 per license. I can't seem to get info on Octane. V-ray solo is $39 monthly while premium is around $60 monthly.

Now there IS Blender, an alternative to Maya. It is free and I have it. That is ideal to work in for people like me. I tried it a while back, but I hated the interface windows. It was hard to work on it when you can't close them properly. It's possible they've fixed this in an update, but I haven't touched the program in over three years so I wouldn't know. It's different from Maya a little, so it has ups and downs in comparison too. But Blender is a savior to 3D artists everywhere.

Toon Boom Harmony isn't as bad but still high: Lowest price is $27 monthly / $220 annual and the highest is $124 monthly / $1,100 annual (X)

Unity has a basic version that is free, but Unity Plus is $399 yearly while Unity Pro is $2,040 (X)

So some programs are clearly more viable than others. But imagine you're trying to model, texture, rig, animate, simulate, and render a short film all by yourself in Maya. That's gonna take you over a year or two, and you'll have several thousand dollars out of your pocket by the time your free trial ends. And might I say, for an industry-standard program, Maya sucks. It's almost unusable without those plug-ins for not only rendering but also for the models to even be able to SELECT their BONE rigs.

Do you want to practice on your own when school is out of session? Fuck you! Fuck subscription services! Welcome to capitalist hell, baby!

Again, using Blender is more viable, but you're still going to be basically doing everything yourself. That's gonna take years. Do you have the patience for that? Do I?

Because of the pandemic, movies aren't even hitting theaters anymore. They're going straight to streaming services. Streaming services of which, gain sole rights to and can take media off their platforms at any time without warning. Thanks, Discovery+ ! Does everyone remember the HBO Max Animation & DC purge? It could happen to other streaming services too. Piracy will save the future of animation at this point. (X)

And again, Streaming services like Netflix will purchase films and claim they made them by slapping their logo over it; but no, they either bought the distribution rights or produced them through funding and maybe storyboarding. Often times from a Canadian film studio. (Link again X)

Even stop motion companies like LAIKA are losing money and may have to shut down or be bought out in the future, especially considering how much work and money they put into their films vs. how much money they actually make. (X)

All of this? Naturally made me fall into a depression. My god, the layers of hopelessness. My animation and modeling is pretty average too. I'm decent. I can maybe make a good shot. But I can't blow people away like James Baxter can. I mean, I shouldn't compare myself to people. If I worked really hard, maybe I could get into a good company. But again, I have to move! A part of me gave up. I don't really do 3D animation anymore, though part of me misses it.

I still 2D animate. I'm trying to make a short film and though my college friends who were working on it with me have given up, I have done my best to keep going. Even if it has been produced at a snail's pace for the past three years, I still intend to finish this animation. It's gonna be beautiful when it comes out, and it will be a wonderful portfolio piece regardless.

So with nothing else to do and no other kind of job experience really under my belt(plus my family is prone to covid so getting a job in the pandemic was just kind of out of the question) I decided to go to youtube. I heard some people can make a little money on there, but the truth is I had actually wanted to become a youtuber for a few years prior. I've always looked up to animators and reviewers on youtube, I've loved the stories they tell and their incredibly detailed analysis essays on movies, tv series, books, etc. I wanted to be one of them. I wasn't sure exactly what I'd do, so I just followed the Youtube Partnership program set up which took a few months, and then jumped in! I found I only had the time to upload once every month or two. I had a ton of audio issues and I'm not outputting at the proper 1920 x 1080 quality that I should be doing either. It's a huge learning process that I still haven't perfected, but I'm taking notes to try and get better.

Even though Youtube is fun, I only make $300 a month, and that isn't even consistent. With patreon, I make maybe another $80 or $100 on top of that, so overall $400 a month average. That's really nice and pretty cool! But it's not enough to survive.

Now I work part-time at a coffee shop. My mental health is a lot better and I love my coworkers. I make roughly $400 a week in comparison to the $400 a month. It's still not enough to live off of (the cheapest rent around is over $1,000 a month, not ) and it's still a temporary job in the long run. I intend to work here for maybe another two years to save up money.

But what do I do now?

Am I welcome in animation spaces anymore?

As a critic of popular media, it could be likely that they could fire me or deny my application because of my critique of their past films or tv series. They could see my youtube persona and assume I'm a raging untrustworthy nitpick instead of a passionate, kind person.

Vivziepop's Spindlehorse company? What Viv was doing was a dream. I was so inspired by her. She made her own company, made a super successful pilot, and was even creating more jobs for traditional, high-quality animation. However, for Hazbin Hotel, she required more funding, which is why she sold it off to A24, who now has corporate say in the show. A24 is known for letting creators be more lenient, but otherwise, Viv won't have full control over it anymore unless she managed to get them to sign something over to her; but with the rumors of her being kicked off season 1? I don't know anymore.

Her own company Spindlehorse; they rely on youtube revenue and/or merch sales to fund Helluva Boss. That's a tricky business practice, but it's kept them afloat so far.

However, Spindlehorse is hiring a lot of people as of late. This could be a bad sign; that people might be leaving the company due to potential mistreatment or unhappiness. With the way the show is going, I don't really want to be part of that company regardless, but maybe before season 2 of Helluva Boss, I would have considered applying. Had I made any critique videos prior, there's no way they'd accept me. "Aren't you that one YouTuber that said my writing is bad for season 2 episode 2?" And you expect me to hire you?" Like yeah, that application process would go down well. Not. By critiquing artists' work, some of them are very sensitive. I'd be kicked out for a lot of things, when really, we artists should be critiquing each other all the time, trying to improve. That's how the writer's room always is, ahaha... hours of fighting goes down in those meetings. It's intense, but fun.

But yeah, it's such a shame. Even small companies need to sell out to corporate to survive. Either that or be HEAVILY crowd-funded, which again, can be a slippery slope.

I see a ton of small projects on Twitter looking to hire people, or looking to become a big studio to release a pilot or game. I've joined a few of them, but most are unpaid because of COURSE they are, and then these projects?? Just don't go anywhere. Because it's unpaid. Because we can't afford to work on a project for free. IRL comes first. Some of these projects seem so great but they don't go anywhere, and it's hard to have faith in start-up studios anymore. (Game creators might have a chance, but tv series or films? Good luck, folks.)

At that point, should I just make my own company? I don't have the money or knowledge for such a thing! It's insanely expensive to start a business and get licensing. So much paperwork, so much everything! And the USA Government is so behind in understanding technology. If you want to create a remote business and/or copyright something, you're still required to put an advertisement in a local newspaper about it, even if your business isn't selling to locals. 💀 The number of fees and ridiculous legal hoops you need to jump through... it's a ridiculous waste of time and money. But you need to do it. The question is, am I willing to do it? Am I willing to tackle such an insane thing by myself?

I want to keep my internet persona and IRL persona separate, but can I? I value having a private, quieter life away from the screen. I worry about getting doxxed one day because of the nature of the internet. I worry about people finding my IRL resumes or profiles for work I want to do outside of youtube for security's sake. My art style is unique and very recognizable. I don't have a lot of private art that is worthy of being in a portfolio. But for absolute safety, I'd need to password-protect my websites or portfolios so the public doesn't have free access to them; only companies I'm applying to. But at that point, does password-protecting my resume and portfolio make it less likely I'd be hired due to the inconvenience? Due to the private, hard-to-find nature of my work? Being a YouTuber with great story skills and art skills with a fanbase could be a big plus to getting hired somewhere, but it could also be a horrible disadvantage that would get me fired. It's a double-edged sword that I cannot work around and I don't know what to do.

I've considered the video game industry, but even that isn't ideal. A lot of the indie ones I adore aren't made in the USA. Gris and Monster Camp were made in Spain. Ori and the Blind Forest: Austria. Hollow Knight: Australia. Little Nightmares and Raft: Sweden. LIMBO & INSIDE: Denmark. Outlast, Don't Starve, Spirit Farer, Bendy and the Ink Machine: Canada.

SuperGiant Games did Hades, Transistor and Bastion and is located in SF, but they're not hiring. Janimation, a multi-media company located in Texas isn't hiring. Frederator in New York isn't hiring.

I don't want to work for a studio that does nothing but first-person shooters or sports games. If I want to get into the gaming industry, I probably need to crowdfund and make a company to make a game myself.

If I make my own game, which I've wanted to do for a long time now and still want to... I can't code. I guess I could try to hire someone that could? But a game to the extent I want... I'd need to start small. I'd need to practice. It's several years of work. Will it even be worth it? I don't think I can do it alone. I'd need crowdfunding and workers; which again, here comes the "make my own studio" issue...

Do I even want to animate anymore? I prefer traditional animation in comparison to puppetry. I prefer 2D animation to 3D animation simply because it is more accessible. But even then, I'm finding myself drawn more and more to writing, storyboarding, and character design. If I were a 3D animator, this is mostly what I'd be working with all day: Naked models in an empty room. I'd do none of the physics simulation or texturing or lighting.

Animating naked & bald people all day... I don't know... 3D Animation kind of lost its appeal. You only work on such a small portion of a film, you almost never have the bigger picture. You won't see the final result until the film is done. As an animator, you're almost kept in the dark. Maybe that's how they want it anyway, since leaks are a huge issue they keep quiet under strict NDA.

But yeah, anyway... I'm an artistic digital generalist. I can do almost anything. 3D animation, storyboarding, writing, photo editing, illustration, rendering, modeling and so much more. It's hard to choose what you really want to be in this industry. I feel like Barry Benson dfklgjdflkjg

I don't know what I'm gonna do anymore. There's gotta be a solution to this but I just can't figure it out. I don't want to give up my youtube channel so I can be an animator. I don't want to give up a safer, quiet countryside house to be able to survive financially. Am I even willing or able to move countries? Is my career more important than friends and family?

I think I'm thinking too much about everything. I should start small. Move less than an hour away first and move in with roommates to get a feel for independence instead of jumping into it immediately. Get a job at a small time company, maybe not for what I want at first, but it'll get me some experience and maybe I'll learn some things along the way to understand where I can go next. Take it slow and don't panic too much over trying to be a young big shot. Take things one day at a time? That's my current goal, I suppose.

So you know... to answer your question... why did I switch to youtube for a current career? Because of a classic existential & career crisis in my 20s. Will I ever go back to 3D animation? Maybe. Maybe one day.

#ask #personal #3D animation #career #youtube #long post #i should also say because im a fan artist #i dont have a lot of original work to add to a portfolio which is a HUGE issue #Pixar doesnt even want to look at a portfolio if it has copyrighted material #they want to avoid lawsuits if they see material owned by a different company #you need to be so careful what you put in a portfolio #i mean especially if i use my 2D stuff or illustrations #my illustrations especially #animation #the animation industry #CGI #rant

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princeblack · 11 months

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it's a shitty night and even shittier week, reg having more homework than usual but unable to do it because he's working overtime to scrape together enough money for bills this month. it's been over a year now since he moved out of his parents' house, cutting them off to escape his arranged marriage and avoid living in their commune. for most of his life their approval was his everything, but the pressure grew and grew until he finally couldn't take it anymore. he doesn't want to be apart of their cult, or be in an arranged marriage with a distant cousin-- what he wants is to pursue higher education and make his own decisions, even if it means living a life like this.

he has one client come in that's been a regular for a couple weeks and he entertains her until she leaves, fortunately early enough for him to prepare for the bachelorette party scheduled tonight. after taking a break and getting some water, he returns to work around the time the party starts filing in. it seems like a few college friends at first, spotting hannah and luna, but then he sees astoria and behind her is the future bride, immediately recognizing her as bee diggory.

he’s trying to focus on the dance, hands gripped tight around the pole as he lifts his legs, upside down for a moment. as soon as he sees bee, his eyes are glued to her, barely even smiling at the patron who tosses him a big tip because he’s so preoccupied with his crush walking into the club.

he’s liked bee since he met her at the beginning of the semester in biology I, seeing how beautiful and charming she was, watching her answer questions on the material with ease. they haven’t spoken much outside of class yet, despite that he’s seen her in passing at their apartment complex because they’re next door neighbors. usually theo nott is at her side, meeting her after class or going home with her.

he knows they’re engaged because bee mentioned it in class once, but the tiara and ribbon around her body make it obvious that this is her bachelorette party. reg can’t help but feel slightly jealous, thinking it’s a shame that a girl as incredible as she is wound up with someone like theo who probably didn’t know what to do with her to begin with.

he’s twisting around the pole, arching his back the way he knows clients like, when astoria approaches and tosses him a tip. she seems to want to talk, gesturing him over, so he pauses the dance and starts to get down from the stage. collecting his tips, he turns to face her, green eyes looking her over curiously.

“hey, astoria. you can call me leo here. private dance?” he knows most of his co-workers would be uncomfortable seeing people from their personal lives at work, but reg has never minded it, as long as they didn’t treat him differently because of it. it’s only happened one other time outside of this, with another peer from a different class, but she seemed nice enough and not judgemental.

astoria is also too nice to judge him for it, and he knows bee is too. the girl is smiling mischievously though, as if she knows what she’s about to ask will cause problems. “not for me, no… but for the bride? i’ll pay for it, just make sure she has a good time.” her wallet still in hand, she pulls the money out.

he’s impressed to see she already knew the cost of the private dances and there’s more on top of it as a tip, so he takes it and slips it into his waistband. “happy to,” he says, appreciative of the payment but also secretly glad he has an excuse to dance for bee. “i’ll be right back.”

he makes a stop at his locker in the back room to deposit the money he collected, already knowing he might be naked for her (if that’s what she wants, anyway).

when he returns, he spots bee over by the bar, laughing at something hannah is saying. she looks beautiful, already making his heart race a little even before he reaches her. he’s always admired her pretty face and big blue eyes, and the way her auburn hair curls in soft waves. she looks even more beautiful than usual tonight, wearing a two piece skin tight pink outfit, the fabric shimmering in the neon lights of the club. her body looks perfect, the skirt and top accentuating her curves. it’s hard not to stare at the slit in the skirt showing off her thigh, or the way her breasts look in the top.

he feels more naked than usual when her eyes land on him, suddenly hyper aware of the fact he’s wearing nothing but jewelry and a scrap of leather for bottoms. he smiles when they make eye contact, leaning against the counter beside her. he realizes for the first time how much taller he is than her, and how small she looks even in her heels and tiara.

“hey,” he says, almost shyly despite the fact he never gets shy. “come here often?” he pauses, smiling a little. “kidding. your friend astoria just paid me to give you a private dance…” he leans a little closer to her, gently brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. green eyes flicker to her lips and back, smoldering a little as he holds her gaze. “i think we could have fun together,” he purrs, dropping his hand. “if you want.” / @devcted

#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( prose ) .#Ⅰ. ⸻ / 𝑹.𝑨.𝑩. ( 𝒇𝒆𝒂𝒕. bexley ) .

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vidjausers-fable · 4 months

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PenPals(Veneer x OC)Chapter 3

Previous chapter

Author’s Note: No fanart this time but if you’re interested in seeing more check me out on Twitter, Tik Tok, and Instagram under Vidjauser! Thank you to my bestie, @tinalbion, for beta reading for me. <3

***

Veneer returned to the library for his rec time the next morning. He wasn’t sure where Velvet had gone for hers, if she even had anymore rec time left. She’d thrown a fit right before bed last night and kept everyone else up until 3 am, even Veneer. Guards didn’t take it kindly when they had tired and grouchy teens to deal with, so she was most likely back in their room.

When he was back in the library, it wasn’t hard to finish the rest of the letter. The blessed silence and the lack of Velvet’s presence helped him focus better, especially when she was always breathing down his neck, wanting to snoop. The hard part was not to overthink what he had written, and to give it to Linda to send out to Avery. The girl on the other side of the letter sounded nice, and seemed to have a unique life outside of this stupid facility. He ached for that kind of life, even if it wasn’t filled with fame or money. He just needed to get out of there. His tactics of actually trying to learn and listen was paying off while his sister was paying the consequences of being the rebel.

Veneer read over the last part of his letter again.

I can’t wait to get to know you better…I don’t know much to share about myself. I find myself discovering things I didn’t know about myself from when I was outside. I love fashion, I recently discovered. There’s these cool magazines—a bit outdated—and it’s fun to sketch the designs in them. Of course, I won’t take credit for them. Though I think it would be fun to explore fashion when I’m back out in the world. My counselor says I should consider looking into higher education for it. I’m holding out hope they would let someone like me in despite my track record. Can you tell me a little more about your job?

Until next time,

Samson

Veneer was anxious about using a pseudonym, but after his and his sister’s scandal in Mount Rageous, he knew that his name would be known. Avery would probably call him names, or treat him like crap, and then reject him. He wanted her to get to know him first before he revealed his true identity. Other than his name, he was going to be 100 percent honest with Avery and luckily she was being respectful of how he felt about his lock-up.

Everything in his letter was spelled correctly, and his writing was legible. Alright, he was ready to send it. He stood and turned to the guard who was posted at the front of the library. “I just finished my letter, can I leave my rec time early to drop it off to my counselor?” he asked.

The guard nodded his head, “Yes, but you will have to wait for someone to come here to guide you.” He took his walkie talkie, saying a code that Veneer didn’t understand. “Got an inmate here that needs transportation. Over.”

Inmate, Veneer hated that word. He liked how Linda called him a patient instead.

The two of them waited until another guard was there. Veneer was guided to his counselor. Her door was closed at the moment, so it meant that she had another patient with her, so, he sat down patiently in the lobby chairs while the guard stood toward the door, his expression blank. Veneer had the time to wait, and he was feeling anxious about it, so he took out the letter and read it one last time as he waited for the door to open.

It was twenty minutes before the door opened and one of the other patients he didn’t recognize left. Linda poked her head out after and smiled at Veneer.

“Well howdy! You can’t seem to stay away, can you, Veneer? What can I do for you this morning?” she asked cheerily. She waved her hand at him, “Come on in.”

Veneer stood outside her door and held up the letter. “I…I finished the letter. I wasn’t sure whether I was supposed to take it to you or the mailroom.” He extended the letter out to the woman. “It’s ready to be sent out.”

Linda smiled softly and put her hand on the letter, pushing it more toward him. “Take it to the mailroom, sweetie. They’ll double check that the letter is appropriate to send, okay? Tell them that it’s for your pen pal and then your name. The address will be in their system, so they’ll handle everything else for you. Is there anything else you need before you head over there? I bet your pen pal is going to be excited about your letter.”

Veneer shook his head. “No! I think I’m okay. Thank you.” He smiled. “Yeah, I hope she’ll like it.” He turned toward the guard, who would then take him to the mailroom, which was close to the cafeteria; the smell of food was making him hungry for lunch. After he approached the counter, he had to wait a moment before the mail attendant came up to the little window. He was tall, pale from working inside all day, and dark haired. He was intimidating to Veneer so the male chewed his bottom lip nervously. He had never met any of the mailroom attendants personally.

“What do you want?” he asked gruffly.

“I have a letter to my pen pal attendant. My name is Veneer.” He handed the unsealed envelope. It was snatched out of his hands, so he took his hands back and tucked them behind his back. He then just stood there awkwardly for moment as the attendant held his letter in a way that didn’t make Veneer happy.

The mail attendant just glared. “What else do you want?”

Veneer froze momentarily. C’mon, no one was really as scary as his sister, so why was this guy making him feel so small?

Clearing his throat, he answered, “Is there…Possible incoming mail from my parents? I haven’t been told, but I thought it wouldn’t hurt to double check…If that’s okay.”

The mail attendant rolled his eyes and looked at the computer, his hands going to the keyboard before typing away fast. Veneer wasn’t sure how long he had been working that day, but he already looked like he was tired and wanted to go home and it was still the morning. “Name?” he grunted.

Veneer answered with a gulp, “Veneer, sir.”

The attendant’s hands typed fast before he answered quite abruptly, “No.” He turned his back to him and returned to his work of sorting mail in the back, leaving Veneer’s heart to pound in his chest. Yeah, Linda was much nicer than whoever that man was. People who acted crappy for no reason were the reason he had some…anxieties.

A sense of disappointment swelled in Veneer’s chest as he stepped away from the counter, turning to the guard. He didn’t notice that his feet began to walk on their own, following the guard back to his cell since rec time was over. His mind was lost in thought about his parents. The moment he made his confession on live TV, there had been no turning back. Surely they had watched the whole thing and knew the truth. After that, they made one public statement that they would pay everyone back and never contact their kids again. Sure enough, that was what happened. Veneer had sent a couple letters, but who knew if they lived where they used to. Veneer never received a letter back from them. He never even got a phone call.

One of the vital steps in getting out of the Correctional Facility was to have a home already set up to move into when released. The facility refused to send anyone out to an improper home, or worse—the streets. Where would Veneer go if his parents had fully disowned him? He would have to learn to live on his own, especially since he knew that he would get out before his sister. He didn’t even know how to function by himself, let alone learn how to rent somewhere and be independent. He would ask Linda if there was a program he could attend to help that transition.

Not long after, Veneer was back in his cell, sitting at his desk. Velvet wasn’t there, so he wondered where she had gone since she had still been there when he left that morning. He turned to the guard before he could wander too far from him, “Hey, where did my sister go?” he asked.

“I dunno,” the guard replied, “Let me check.” He tilted his head away and pressed his walkie talkie, “Just wanted to double check the location of patient Velvet. She’s not in her cell. Over.” There was static for a moment before his expression changed entirely, worrying Veneer when he saw his eyes widen in surprise. “She what? Okay. Yes, I understand. Over.” He lowered his hand.

Veneer now stood at the cell, his hands on the bars. “What happened to my sister?” he asked anxiously. The guard answered with a disappointed sigh, “She attempted to escape again, bud. She was on her way to a mandatory meeting with her counselor before shoving a guard and making a run for it. She only got far enough because when she pushed the guard, he hit his head on a metal pipe on the way down. Apparently he bled a little and he fell into unconsciousness. Luckily, he’s not dead.”

At the mention of blood, Veneer somehow paled. “She did…? Where’s she at right now? Is she going to be back?”

“She’s screaming and throwing a fit in a holding cell. Looks like you might have a day or two to yourself while she calms down and has therapy from within her cell.” He shrugged, “I dunno how that stuff all works anyway. You don’t want to worry about it, though I'll have to keep an extra eye on you a bit harder for now. Just a part of protocall.”

“That makes sense, but it’s not like I’m going to do anything. Man…I hope she’s not in too much trouble…” Veneer said the last part aloud but mostly to himself, allowing himself to step away from the bars.

“I can’t disclose that information…but let’s just say she’s not going to be back for a few days.”

Veneer nodded. He returned to his desk and looked at Avery's first letter, admiring her handwriting. He realized that he wanted to write back to her already, as if the conversation they shared on paper would help him cope with what was going on right now, but it would be worthless considering he already sent a letter that day.

Veneer chose not to and took out one of the magazines he was allowed to bring back to his room, and read to calm himself down.

Why couldn’t his sister just behave?

***

After another long shift, there was nothing more that Avery wanted to do than stick her feet into a bucket of warm water with her Guinea pigs in her arms, and her favorite sitcom on the television. Her feet ached as she walked into the lobby of the apartments around ten at night. There had been plenty of workers to close that night, so she was sent home early since she came in early. The lights were dimmed and the volume of the TV in the community space was lowered to a single digit. There wasn’t a soul in sight. It was oddly peaceful.

Avery took her key ring to the lobby, heading toward the mail room. The mail hadn’t been there before she left for work, which was common. Getting her mail, she gasped in excitement after she sorted through the mail. There was a letter from the correctional facility. Which meant she got her first letter from her pen pal!

“Oh my god! He wrote me back!” she gasped.

With a sudden burst of energy, Avery raced to the elevator, which took her to the third floor. She tried not to stomp around, as to not wake anyone up. She made it to her room without trouble and set all her stuff down on the ground next to the couch, sitting on the right side. She threw the other mail and bills to the end table and stared at the mail she wanted to read the most.

Using as much self control as she could, she opened the envelope without tearing the inner letter. She was surprised the deeper she read into the letter. Samson…What a sweet name, she thought to herself, wondering what he looked like.

Somehow, the world felt less lonely just by reading this letter. She felt as though this pen pal program would be helping her as well. Maybe she would start to feel better about herself and everything going on.

Avery finished the letter and couldn’t stop smiling. It didn’t matter that her body was aching from work, or that her feet were sore from the skates. She was happy at that moment, learning more about Samson. She wanted to write another letter back immediately, and wanted to send it tomorrow. It already felt as though she could get used to this addictive feeling of positive attention from her new friend. She wanted to get to know Samson more. Maybe if they continued to hit it off, she could call or visit him.

“Don’t think too far ahead…Don’t start making up silly little stories in your head.” She carefully folded the letter back up and slipped it back into the envelope, setting it aside. She still had to shower and get ready for bed before she got too sleepy. The letter would have to wait until tomorrow, even if she didn’t want to.

There were harmonious squeaking from across the room. Avery giggled and stood, going to her attention seeking little pets. “Yes, I know, I know. You want out, but it’s close to bedtime and I would have to put you back in less than a half hour. I’ll let you out tomorrow morning, and then you’ll be able to roam for hours!” She picked her two pets up and kissed their heads each and then put them back down. After that, she showered and went to bed.

Tomorrow she had the night off for once, so it was a chore and errand day. Many thoughts ran through her head—what she had to do tomorrow, and what she wanted to write to Samson—but soon she fell asleep to the sound of rain playing through her phone.

Avery awoke to loud squeaking from the living room, and groaned. Great, the one day she didn’t have to set an alarm clock, and her pets woke her up. She sat up, sore from the night before, and slipped out of bed, sliding her feet into her house slippers so her feet were warm. “I’m commmmmmming,” she said to her pets, yawning at the end of the word. “You two are complete brats.”

Two blobs of fur were squished in the corner that was closer to her bedroom door. Seeing it made Avery giggle sleepily. “Alright, I’m not longer mad that you guys woke me up.” She took the Guinea Pig snacks that were set on the end table near their cage, where all their food and other supplies were located. She picked both up and sat on the floor, laying them in her lap. “Good morning to you two as well,” she chuckled, picking hay out of their fur as they ate the snacks. She had these two for a whole year, and they were her best friends.

Smiling, she took a picture of them in her lap with her phone. “I’ll get these printed and send them to Samson. He might like you guys.”

Avery set them back on the ground and took their food and water, throwing it out and replacing it with fresh food and water. They circled her ankles until she placed the bowls outside of their cage, letting them free roam while she did other things around the apartment. She was usually a clean person, so her chores didn’t take too long. What took the longest was the laundry, which luckily her unit had its own washer and dryer for everyone.

When all she had to do was laundry, Avery sat down with Samson’s letter and smiled as she read over it again, trying to plan what she wanted to write back. He deserved a long heartfelt letter, rather than a quick and lazy response. He liked fashion? That was an interesting take. That wasn’t something she would ever imagine from a male in a correctional facility. She wanted to ask him what his favorite sort of fashion was, and while she wasn’t too into the details of clothes, she did like browsing them. She made sure to take note of these questions on paper that she usually did her grocery list on. Which, by the way, she needed to get done before she threw anything in the washer.

Avery held both papers in her hands and looked back and forth between the two. Well…there were a few things that she could get for a male. Was it too early to be sending gifts to him? Nah, she didn’t think so. After adding sketchbook, and fashion magazines down, she decided to go shopping for the male, wanting to make sure her next letter contained a present for him.

A week had passed since Veneer had sent his letter, and since his sister had been placed into solitary confinement. Apparently the guard she had shoved needed a few stitches, so she was in extra trouble for getting the guard injured while on the job. He didn’t feel guilty for his sister however, it meant that he had a few days to himself before she could return. He knew the process—she’d been through it a couple of times now. She had to be evaluated for her mental stability and whether he would be a threat to herself or others. Though it had never taken this long before, and it surprised him.

Veneer groaned as he flipped through his magazine for the fifth time. It was a few editions old, and it seemed that the Library was taking a sweet time filling his request for getting the latest editions for him to read. For now he was stuck rereading these ones, and by now he had every page memorized.

Veneer abruptly stopped when he came across a page with two familiar icons. Him and Velvet when they were popstars. When they were frauds. He didn’t like the memories that filled his head.

“Dammit…” He grumbled and flipped the pages closed, slamming his hand down on top of the cover. He was bored, and without much to do. He leaned on his elbow, his fingers tapping against his face. Could he request some TV time in the rec room? No, he couldn’t take advantage of his position as a model patient.

A guard approached his cell from the corner of his eyes, catching his attention. He looked for his sister everywhere around the guard and listened for her screaming, but there was nothing. The guard whispered something to the one stationed outside his cell, then left. Veneer stood as if he already knew that the guard wished to talk to him.

Sure enough, he was right. The guard walked right up to the cell with something in his hands. It was a medium sized box. “Veneer, you have a package from the mailroom. Here you go.” Since Velvet wasn’t there, he was free to open the cell door and hand over the box to Veneer.

Veneer frowned at first. A package? Who on earth would send him a package? He quickly shrugged off that expression and nodded, “Strange…? I don’t know who would even want to send me this. But thank you for bringing it to me. Did it just now come in?”

“It came in this morning, like all the other mail. Then the packages get checked for contraband, you know?”

“Ah, yes…I forgot. I’m not exactly used to being sent mail you know,” Veneer sounded a little sassy, but honest. The guard didn’t seem to mind anyway and returned to his post, taking his rounds up and down the hallway now and then.

Veneer slightly shook the box. It didn’t feel too heavy, but he was still curious about what was inside. His first thought was his parents—had they sent him something? No, he felt as though they wouldn’t, not without talking to him first. He sat down at his desk and opened the box, and gasped when he saw what was inside. There were magazines in plastic sleeves! The Library must have fulfilled his request for the new magazines he wanted!

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” He gasped, taking the magazines out without checking the rest of the box. Though there was something strange...Why would the Library send the request directly to him? He looked over to the guard’s post, wanting to ask him something, but the guard was not there.

“Strange…But wouldn’t this go to the Library if I requested it there…?” he asked himself, and just in case, he made sure to take them carefully out of the plastic, afraid that the Library would be upset with him if he somehow destroyed the magazines before they even got them. He grabbed the box and picked it up to place on the ground, but it was still heavy. He pushed around the tissue paper inside when his eyes widened.

There was more in the box. There was a whole sketchbook! When he delicately picked it up, he saw a letter down at the bottom of the box and a little note next to it that read: I hope I’m not rushing this forward, but I hope you like the gift. I think it’s unique that you like fashion and art. You don’t have to force yourself, but I would love to see anything you sketch! Love, Avery.

Veneer slowly cupped a hand over his mouth, feeling tears in his eyes. A gift? For him? He carefully peeled open the letter, which had photos of two cute furry creatures.

Dear Samson,

Yes, I know, it’s a bit too early to be sending a gift to you, but I just had to get these for you when I was grocery shopping. I think it’s amazing that you have a passion, and I want to help you be able to pursue it, even through these small gifts. So hopefully you can sketch me a new outfit or a better uniform for my work! I would draw it for you if I could, but my drawings are more like chicken scratch, but I’ll maybe send a picture so you can do it!

Veneer smiled at a badly drawn pizza with fat pepperonis and mushrooms to the side.

These are pictures of my two piggies. Jams is my brown one, and Garry is the one with the multicolored patches. I’ve had them for about a year, but they’re my whole world. At the end of a long work day, I lay down and cuddle them for hours. I hope you think they’re cute!

Veneer smiled as he read the rest of the letter, keeping it to himself.

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rosiesramblings · 2 years

Text

Would You Still Love Me?

Hey friends! Here's a quick Robin and Steve fic, with a bit of Eddie sprinkled in because I have no self control. This scenario popped into my head and I thought it was funny. Let me know what you think!

WC: 1.1k

Fandom: Stranger Things (no spoilers, i don't think), ler!Steve and lee!Robin

TW: I mention pregnancy once? It makes sense I promise. No one is actually pregnant. Also, there is a joint bc Eddie's got to make some money somehow.

“Steve…” Robin’s voice trembles. Steve looks up from the beer he’s slowly nursing by the side of his pool. Eddie and Nancy pause their heated conversation - something about the merits (or lack thereof) of higher education, Steve thinks, but he stopped paying attention ten minutes ago. Eddie’s hands flex when he’s making a point, and that has been sufficiently distracting for the past few minutes.

He lifts his feet from the water and turns to face Robin. Her eyes are glassy, and Steve is suddenly brought back to a different conversation, on the floor of a grimy mall bathroom. He swallows, brows furrowing in that adorably concerned way of his, and he says, “What's up, Robin?”

“I… There’s something I wanted to ask you,” Robin says, not quite looking in his eyes. Nancy and Eddie very pointedly go back to their debate, voices rising a little to avoid eavesdropping.

“Okay…” Steve says slowly, getting up all the way and plopping down next to Robin where she’s spread out a towel. “Is it something… bad?”

“I don’t know,” Robin whispers, playing with the threads on the edge of her towel.

Steve grabs her hand in both of his, rubbing his thumbs over her fingers soothingly. “Whatever it is, I’m sure we can figure it out.”

“Yeah… yeah you’re right,” Robin breathes out.

Steve braces himself for - he doesn’t know what, really, as the only thing he can think of is that Robin might be pregnant, which is absurd because a) she’s gay, and b) if she had sex with someone, he would definitely have been informed. He shakes that thought off and wills himself to keep a neutral face, despite the anxiety he’s feeling.

“It’s just… I was wondering…” Robin takes a deep breath. “Would you still love me if I was a worm?”

“Would I - what?” Steve asks, desperately confused. “I don’t even - what?”

There’s a solid five seconds before Robin bursts into raspy laughter. “Ohohoho my god,” she cackles. “Your fahahahace! I should have taken a picture. That was tohoho perfect.”

Steve just looks at her. “I am so confused.”

Robin laughs harder. “I know! You got all worried, you did the whole Mama Steve routine, oh my god. Eddie!” She turns to where Eddie and Nancy are still sitting. “You owe me a joint, asshole! Told you I could do it!”

“Told him you could do what?” Steve says, still feeling like he was missing something.

“Goddammit, Harrington,” Eddie says, eyes gleaming, walking over and handing Robin a joint goodnaturedly. “I bet Robin that she couldn’t get you to go full “Mama Bear Steve” on her. I thought it was reserved for just the kids. Clearly,” he gestures to where Steve is still holding one of Robin’s hands in his, “I was wrong.”

Steve turns back to Robin, betrayed. “You made a bet on me?”

Robin grins toothily back at him. “And I won! We’re platonic-with-a-capital-P soulmates, Steve, I know exactly how you work.”

“Oh yeah?” Steve asks, raising one eyebrow. “Then you should know exactly what I’m going to do next.”

Robin barely has time to look confusedly at Steve in return before he’s latching on to her sides, and holy shit, that tickles. “Steheheheheheve, wahahahit - nononono!” she cries as he squeezes over and over.

“Nope. This is exactly what you deserve for making fun of me,” Steve says smugly, spidering his hands up to drill into her ribs.

“Plehehehehease! It was a johohohoke,” Robin giggles.

“Yeah, I know. And this is revenge,” Steve says. He carefully pushes Robin down onto her back, making sure her head doesn’t hit the ground too hard. Robin’s hands bat uselessly at his own, until he grabs them both and pins them under his knees.

“Wait! Wahahait, Haharrington dohohohon’t,” giggles pitching up as he lets her ribs go and wiggles his fingers in the air above her tummy.

“Don’t what, Buckley? I’m literally not even doing anything,” Steve says, eyes glinting evilly.

“Oooooh, Stevie, I didn’t know you could be so mean,” Eddie calls over to them. “It’s kinda doing it for me, not gonna lie.”

“Yeah? Well, you’re fucking next, Munson, don’t think for a second that I’ve forgotten about you,” Steve says over his shoulder, completely missing the way Eddie’s face turns beet red. Nancy laughs at him.

Tired of teasing his best friend, Steve finally starts actually tickling Robin’s tummy, and she promptly goes ballistic.

“OhohohohOH MY GAHAHAHAD,” she shrieks, pulling desperately at her trapped hands.

“Yeah? This a bad spot?” Steve teases.

“YohOHOHOU KNOW IT IS,” Robin manages, tears leaking out of her scrunched-closed eyes. “DiHIHIHIHINGUS!”

“I’m not hearing an apology,” Steve sing-songs, sliding his hands under her loose top and raking his blunt nails over the sides of her tummy.

“I’m sohohohohorry! Ihihihi’m sohohoho fuhuhucking sorry, Steheheheve, plehehease!” Robin’s cackles start to die down as Steve slows his fingers. She takes deep breaths and tries to slow her giggles, relaxing a little, thinking that Steve’s finished his revenge.

“Mmm,” Steve hums. “You know what really, really sucks for you?” he asks, smirking at Robin. He leans down, catches her eye, and says, “That wasn’t even your worst spot,” before darting his hands behind him and squeezing just above her knees.

And Robin. Fucking. Screams.

“Jesus H Christ, Buckley, are you actually being murdered?” Eddie says with a smile, but he’s completely drowned out by Robin’s desperate howls.

“AHAHAHAHAHAHA,” she laughs, unable to remember even one of the languages she speaks. “PLEHEAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Steve stops after only a few moments, knowing Robin can’t take it when anyone gets her knees. “Okay, okay, breathe, Ro, I’m done,” he laughs, releasing her arms and pulling her up into his lap for a hug. He gently rubs her back as she comes back down to earth.

“Ohohoho my gohohod,” Robin snickers. “I cahahan’t… That was sohoho mehehean.” She pulls back to look him in the face. “You are a mehehean person, Steve Haharrington.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t act like you didn’t deserve every minute,” Steve says, playfully tugging on a strand of her hair. “Also, of course I would still love you if you were a worm. In case you were actually wondering.”

“Whahatever,” Robin says, exhausted but still pleased at the answer.

“Also, you’re definitely sharing that joint with me later.”

Steve eases her back down to lay on the towel, then stands up and stretches, cracking his knuckles casually. He eyes a now-nervous looking Eddie Munson hungrily. Eddie swallows.

“Now, Munson,” Steve says, barely keeping a straight face. “Are you going to come get yours and take it like a man, or do I have to come to you?”

A silly grin makes its way unbidden onto Eddie’s face. He considers for a moment, weighing his options. At the end of the day, though, he’s Eddie fucking Munson, and there is one thing he can always be relied upon to do when faced with danger.

He runs.

#tickle fic #stranger things #tickling #ler!steve #lee!robin #I read something like would steve or eddie be the one to ask the worm question #and I couldn't decide so i wrote this instead #nancy is also there #sorry nancy i kind of forgot about you #tickle drabble #eddie munson fluff

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transinatrade · 5 months

Text

The Beginning

It's been about a month.

If you couldn't guess by my URL, I am a trans person (FTM) who is entering the HVAC trade. This is for a few reasons.

As the economic crisis rapidly sends us streaming forward toward poverty, my entry level job was not making us (my partner and I) enough money anymore.

Gifted kid burnout caught up to me a long time ago, and with the affordability of college being completely impossible without loans I would never have a hope of paying back, I turned to trades as an option of higher education without the ridiculous price tag.

I am more of a hands on person. Sitting down at an office desk was never for me, and I'm not sure why I ever thought it would be. I want to get my hands dirty, and have a new adventure every day.

Why HVAC specifically? Good question. I was interested in trades in general, how things work has always fascinated me. HVAC was a matter of elimination. Medical was not for me, blood and high stakes stress me out and the cost of those courses are very high. I've already flunked out of engineering classes in high school so anything related to it was a no go. Welding was another good option, but with loud sounds and bright lights my autism and bad hearing were not going to have a good time. The last two I was considering were HVAC and electrical. Each excellent fields and I had high interest in both, so I applied for EMT which is a combination of both (electrical mechanical technician, not the medical worker).

Now a new issue arose, one I have dealt with my whole life.

I am transgender.

The current trans panic, living in the bible belt, not passing well, and the already intimidating trades were a lot to take in a navigate, but I believe I have been very fortunate.

The first step was shopping around for a school and being very up front with how I identify and the situation. Emailing schools made it easier to imagine the school as an entity rather than a collection of people each with their own political views that make them view me very differently. I was ghosted by a couple schools, I am unsure if this is because of my identity or if they thought I was a spammer, but for my sake I'd like to think it was the ladder.

I managed to get pell grants, a few scholarships, loans that are far smaller than they would be for a four year degree, and finally an approved application.

The first couple of months were intimidating, there is a lot to learn in a small amount of time and a recent head injury was not helping. However, I do not give up easily. I found that passing had never been more important to me than ever, and I'm not entirely sure why. Perhaps the far more masculine men around me make me feel more inadequate. Perhaps the trans panic has indeed instilled a terror in me of being clocked as trans far more than I originally thought. Perhaps it is simply paranoia and the unknown. Whatever the case, I've found myself taking more steps than I usually do to pass, including binding. I never really did befores since having covid binding has restricted my breathing when any strenuous activity is involved, my chest is not large to begin with, and the mentioned current economic crisis has made it impossible to save for top.

There have been a couple instances when I was misidentified as female, thankfully my voice saved me in that regard, but when I am stopped up due to the weather, it is not as convincing.

In one instance the wrong name was called (since I have been unable to change it) so I had to pretend like my name was simply not on the roster until I could correct the person in private, embarrassing everyone involved. My existence is very alien, so there is no system in place to change my name or inform staff other than by email or word of mouth. It is all very overwhelming.

Other than all of these moving parts, day to day has been very smooth. I can update in the future if there are any incidents or new challenges come up. Thank you for reading.

#transgender #trans masc #trans man #tech #trade #trade school #trade worker #transgenderfirst

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blessedshortcake · 2 years

Note

hi do u have espresso head canons i wanna hear you talk about this asshole /pos

I have SO MANY please you have no clue yet

I am sure there are gonna be things I list that are canon but let me live. I project to him so much its not even funny

I am putting this under the cut becasue I am about to go offfff. This is an entire essay, a short character study if you may /lhj

Growing up he almost always had some kinda roommate or a cookie he lived with to help with rent. I hc that in the Lower Republic its a standard experience to be swapping between homes with often a handful of others so you can pay for the apartment. I am talking one person being the legal owner/renter and 3-5 other people living there in secret so they can make ends meet.

I hc that he was childhood friends with Licorice as well along with Seaweed. I am unsure about Affogato but I 100% say they were friends with Licorice.

He used to be very clumsy and bad with magic because no one was there to help him. He picked up every single skill and ability he has by himself, magical and life skills equally. (Which is also partially why he sucks so bad with self care. He never properly learned how a functional, healthy person should live.)

He is very light sensitive due to him growing up in the Lower Republic. Its canonically darker there (if I remember correctly) so he likely got used to cold and dark being the norm.

I have a whole essay on why Espresso hates light magic in my headcanon but that is for another day.

With that being said, I think he unconciously keeps dressing warmer than necessary. He would wear long sleeves or sweaters in hot weather, causing him to overheat every so often. It's a hard habit to break.

I hc him having a love hate relationship with darkness as well. Depending on his emotional and mental state it can either comfort him or set him off even more.

Set him off by making him feel suffocated, reminding him of his childhood and struggles, bringing him back to survival mode unintentionally. He feels like he achieved nothing still, having to work and grind day and night for little to no proof of how far he came. (Of course this is mainly false. Espresso is a respected and well known mage, he is just spiraling.)

Comfort is similar tho. It brings him back to his childhood when he is overwhelmed/overstimulated by noise or light or just simply stress. Darkness was what he knew best for majority of his life so he would find peace in it when things got too much, too strange, too new.

He is hard to break out of survival mode once he slips into the mindset. He gets more closed off but not snappy just quiet. He spends more time in his lab, takes care of himself less, too wrapped up with the his work to notice anything around him. If things get too bad, he only notices what he is doing again when he passes out from exhaustion, finally catching on that he slipped again.

He is so neurodivergent but also has So Many Issues. A therapist would have a field day with this man. His biggest obsession is his work partially because of hyperfixtation and partially because he Needs To Work.

Most of the Elders and Upper Republic did/does not respect him. His conversation with Landlord cookie (whom I have a love hate relationship with) shows that another reason why he has to work so much is to literally get paid. He teaches for money more so than to educate others. He is far from ready to be an actual teacher, his researches are not done and there are too many unknown things about coffee magic for him to confidently pick up students, yet he needs to.

The Lower Republic has mixed views on him. Some of them are happy and proud of him, of how far he got and how much he grew and achieved and the other half resents him for the same reason. The latter half thinks he became one of the all too proud, shiny snobs of the upper republic, turning his back to them.

Actual insomniac, add it to the list of issues. Sure, coffee cookies have higher body heat and netural caffeine in them but with the literal caffeine addiction and amount of stress he is under, i think he has had many occasions where he Wanted to sleep but physically Could Not no matter how frustratingly tired he was, which is why he ended up with just giving up on even trying to have a sleep schedule. Whenever his body decides he is allowed to sleep actually sleep and not just feel like walking dead then he will likely accept it and go to bed.

He has many many skills. He is good at engineering (he built his own lab), science, physics and a handful of life skills such as cleaning, cooking, sewing and first aid. He is very good with young kids as well, he had lots of experience from living with and looking after them when he was young.

I think dying his hair tends to be an impulse decision for whenever he remembers to do it. He doesn't pay too much mind to how he doses it or how he looks since his hair gets messy by itself. He often forgets he has hair dye in when he does it because he goes back to his work as he waits and ends up with it on for hours.

He dresses fancily because 1, aesthetic and 2, the more put together he looks the more people respect him. Its another of those things that he carried on from his childhood. He likes to seem bigger than he is for passive intimidation and charisma points.

He is very moody, (or emotionally unstable depending on how severly you want to view it) swinging between emotions very easily with little to no influence from time to time. Sleep deprivation and unresolved trauma does that to you.

He goes nonverbal when having a meltdown. Like he just shuts off and shuts up, leaving everything and everyone behind until he calms down.

He has a habit of fixing his glasses and covering his face more when he is nervous or embarrassed. He rocks his legs a lot and taps his fingers on stuff to stim. He is a "socks are necessary part of life and i'll die without them" kinda autistic. Floor boards on bare feet are his enemy.

He loves pets of all kinds but he refuses to keep one. He knows he would not be able to be there for it or care for it as much as it needs because of his work.

This is all I can think of on top of my head. I should make an actual google doc haha- there are 100% more things I have about him but I have been typing for like an hour and I need to make breakfast so here is the short version.

He either talks to himself as much as he can or not at all, no in between. Nervous muttening under his breath, reading things out to double check, repeating words that felt nice to say and so on but sometimes he needs absolute and utter silence.

Edit: HIS GENDER THO

Fuck food I have to add this real fast. This man has no clue what he is or who he likes. He had no time in his life to sit and think about it. The one time he even attmepted to explore the fact that he may be into anyone he decided it was too distracting and just sealed those thoughts away. This man does not sit down to have food most of the time do you think he will sacrifice his brain power to find a label?

Thank you for the question and the opportunity for me to talk about this man I will love you forever anon /pl

#cake rambles #like a lot #cookie run #cookie run kingdom #espresso cookie #character study #kinda #cake asks #cake talks #hehe #long post

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saddock-haddock · 1 year

Text

Im gonna talk about greif and trauma. Because I need to, and I feel like its good to know the signs of abuse. To preface, i'm not a trained professional, just another survivor. Everyone's experience is different, but there are always themes in common. I'm doing this so i can actually look at me. And reckon with that. So Yeah.

This is not a trauma dump- but a trauma story, real as they come and just about as fun. So buckle up chucklefucks and get on the RollerToaster

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Its just hit me like a truck what my life was like as a kid. Im in my early 20's(and f'ckin pretty with it) and its only now that im starting to get some memories about my life before.

I grew up in an abusive household where the only way you survive is to block out whats happening and just keep going.

My abuser was my Mother. And i was her golden boy- quiet, obediant, servile and utterly under her control.

The shoes i wore were cheap, Asda George ugly cheap- and like any kid i liked to play-so they would regularly get holes in them. She wore sandals around the house which easily cost £50+. All the clothes i had were handme-downs, after all I was just a kid who supposedly would keep growing. Nothing fit.

I went to school where the majority of the student populace come from a middle class background. I'm on the dragging frail fraying thread of the coattails of that class heirachy. Not poor enough to be working class-go one generation back and shits fucked, go two and you can blame the English. My Dad's family are dogsbodies of the extended-extended family heirachy. Shits tougher in the years after the 2008 financial crash, but we're still nowhere near the red. Mother Detested bought me a school jumper for the secondary school uniform in a size which was way too big- it reached my knees. She said i would grow into it. In the four years at that school i never did. She got her hair done at a salon. She decided what haircut i and my siblings got. Cheap and shit. If you've ever been called "Freshie" you know.

So on top of being a dark skinned kid in a rich kid school, i looked fucking stupid. At one point I tore chunks of my hair out. Im a fast healer so my scalp didn't bleed. But thats not normal for an 11 year old. I never had a choice in what clothes i had. We had the fucking means by which to afford it 10 times over-but no. I was only afforded small change or pocket money- maybe £2 or £3 rarely, most of the money I had came from birthdays or christmases, given to me by the extended family. And if i ever wanted to spend that money I'd have to go through one of the my parents, which always meant my Mother. So no agency for me on that front either.

No real identity to be had at home. No music she didnt like. No birthdays or gatherings we could go to without her say so. No food she didnt want in the house, no shows she didnt want to watch. She'd picked the subjects of my oldest sibling for their A-levels. I was spared that. She wanted us all to go away from our hometown, to go elsewhere to live once we'd finished higher education.

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This may seem like a reasonable thing to want for your children so they too can be successful. What her real aim was however was to get us away from Dad. This woman was toxic like the elephants foot in Chernobyl.

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Unless it was for bragging rights she wouldn't let anyone have a hobby. She took me swimming-and just when i was getting good-im talking potentially club then county then who knows, we stopped. I loved to dive, to go to the deepest part of the pool-all 5 foot of me at the time- leaping into the air, getting perpendicular to the water and cutting through it like a knife. The thrill from the speed and the bubbles swisshing past as i touched the bottom tiles with my hands before kicking back off and surging to the surface. Stopped. I was robbed of a thing that i loved.

Same happened again when i was showing potential in Karate. We stopped. I put my all into the flexibility training. I had no belts to me but was putting in greater effort- which the trainers recognised- than boys 5 years older and 4 belts my senior. The trainers were homophobic. We could have found another organisation easily. But as soon as the opportunity came to deny us, our wings were clipped.

We suddenly wouldn't have the money. Its what enrages me most of all. I missed out on my childhood because of the ego of my Mother. We were to be good- hers to show and tell to others, but never to outdo her. She'd drink so much she'd get migraines. Then it was up to us to do the chores. Dad was working and similary abused and docile. My Dad's friends told him stuff wasn't right. But no one tried to get us out, no one attempted to intervene. None of the extended family (which is also deeply fucked) could see anything wrong. If you talked to me or my siblings in the street we would be the politest teenagers you'd ever come across. Never demanding, acquiescing, saying fucking please and fucking thankyou, always unassuming, never in fucking trouble. Meek as fucking mice.

The irony of her being a teacher and counselor/therapist cuts me to my core. Who would be a better abuser than someone who breaks down other people's trauma for a living. She manipulated the shit out of her children, turned us against each other, taught us to fear our own father- a man who had consistantly stood on the right side of history and has as much violence in him as the average capybara. It was; "Wait till your Dad hears about this," "Please don't make me tell your father" and so on. Our Dad's name became a tool of discipline and fear in the house, framed to make us fear his wrath, which Mother dearest would stoke bit by bit. We were afraid to be in the same room as him, let alone have to go on an outing with him. And all the while my Dad didn't know why, he'd come home and find his children unwilling or reluctant to greet him, encouraged and cajoled to do so by my Mother if we hesitated. She knew how to play this game and she was Machiavellian in her execution.

She and my brother, the second oldest of the four of us would have the most fireworks. He'd do something, such as breathing, not to her liking and she in turn would bite his head off. If there's one thing that my mother, may her soul never find rest, gave her children, it's that we are stubborn feckers. So, he'd be in the right, stand up for himself, get shouted down and sent to his room. He'd be used as an example to the rest of us, we criticise our mother, we move out of line, and she'll bring that vindictive lashing fury down on her own children.

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If at this point you're thinking evil stepmother, spot on, unfortunately we're still related by blood. She abused but she was enabled by my Dad.

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Boy, oh boy, generational trauma, particularly among immigrant families is one hell of a thing. She was abused, she lost out, why should anyone else get anything.

What wrankled her most is that we were smarter than her. She's got an Oxford degree, she's very academically accomplished. But she didn't have what Dad had, that way with people. Dad's got a mind like a weapon, he taught us in his way, all the while oblivious to the poison Mother dearest was telling about him when he wasn't around. She isolated us from anything approaching a social life. We had no trusted people on the street we lived on- just an civil relation with the neighbours, who had a kid younger than me going to the same schools. She made no effort for any of her children to meet friends. Which could have cost her a life.

As an eight year old i thought about killing myself. I was so alone. I'd planned to climb onto the roof above my bedroom, jump from by the chimney stack to the street below. I'd thought about if i'd just break my legs from that height or crack my skull(again) and bleed out. I wondered what i'd hear on the way down, would my clothes rustle as i fell, like a sail in the wind? What would my bones sound like when they snap? I wondered at the time who would go to my funeral- it was only the thought of the greif of my family that stopped me. I often thought and planned hurting myself to garner something from people. Pity, Sympathy, Care, it didnt matter. I wet the bed well passed the age that i should have, and yet no one picked up on it. -It wasn't intentional

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DING DING DING- Unless you've a health condition or believe the toilet will eat you, this; "I wet the bed well passed the age that i should have," Is a surefire sign shit ain't right.

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Coming home from secondary school i'd often be welcomed to the house with tirades from my mother towards my father after she'd come home from teaching, berating him for his laziness and agrandising herself as a great mentor. Dad'd been screwed by the people he was working with. My mother encouraged us to have a go at him for being useless around the house (which he wasn't) and how he needed to get a job (which he was making every effort to do) at the few family gatherings (almost always my Dad's side) we were allowed to go to.

I escaped in the fantasy books i read, so the public library was a safer place.

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I've gained a love for libraries which will never die and one day hope to be an author who can provide that escape to others if nothing else.

Get ready for a bumpy ride!

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But then came a day when shit would start rolling. I'd come home again from school. Mother was standing at the table, wineglass full, Dad seated at the table, head down. She was talking about how well she'd dealt with a problem, how she'd taught the class and generally how to she was positively saint-like. All the while there were barbs cast in my Dad's direction, remarks we all knew found their target. Dad just sat there, across from me. Didn't say a fucking thing, didn't so much as look up.

Knowing all that I know now, being mature and stable and overall a cool segsy hot guy man boy, If I could go back in time and make my (at the time) 5 foot 2 scrawny ass hit that vile excuse for a parent I would. But I'm proud of what I did next.

I got my mug of milk, I had my malted milk biscuits, sat down at the table, and asked Dad how his day was. From the corner of my eye, I had broken my Mother's crowing. And the look of shock in my Dad's eyes said it all. The answer was prefunctory, but that's not what mattered. It's that it was asked. My Mother resumed her crowing after the exchange, but it was like i'd popped her ballooning ego. I hadn't and didn't ask her about hers. We'd all get to know, whether we liked it or not.

One thing about keeping people controlled and manipulated is you have to be constant in it and also ensure that the abused never find common ground. On several different occasions all four of us children had seperately talked to Dad about something that had happened or been said. We'd been brushed off then, it was just an overeaction on our Mother's part. I'd stood up for myself on occassions, as had my siblings. But we'd always come out the loser. My mother would win those arguments. She worked three jobs(she didn't have to work that many) and made sure there was food on the table. Money wasn't an issue- but she made it the issue. With her fancy IT gear and her quality clothes. She was the one in charge, she was the reason we were ever so lucky to have such a nice place to live and have such an easy time of things. We should be grateful cause she didn't have as much at my age, the racism she dealt with was so much worse than the shit we had to deal with.

Anyway

Time goes by.

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I have exact dates somewhere, but honestly, the story's what counts

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Then we *cleaned the shed*, an activity organised at the behest and coordinated by Mummy dearest which coincidentally involved most of my Dad's old stuff- important stuff, from his time at University and work thereafter. Important and rare leaflets and pamflets which show a side of the eighties we're not taught. There was water damage on some of the boxes and a hornets nest in the back could provide justicification for the *cleaning*. Dad was away working that day, he had no say in the matter, he had no clue what was happening. My Mother decided what was kept and what was chucked, my brother was savy enough to squirrell away a few things when she wasn't watching. What amounted to a significant proportion of my Dad's life ended up in black bags headed for recycling or the landfill. We loaded it in the back of the car as ordered, and off we went to the Tip. We made several trips. My mother gleeful and satisfied in the execution of her plan. Just like that, Dad had only a fraction of the life he'd led at the house he lived.

The loss of your past when you're dead is inevitable, we fade from the consciousness of those who come after as time marches onward. But to have it destroyed whilst your still alive? The evidence that the here and now of you was present in the there and then. It's a crime- one that should be up there with felling an anciet tree or killing a whale. These belongings were something he wanted to show all of us and any children we had. About what he'd done. About who he was.

We were children, rewarded for our effort with the friendly attentions of our mother for assisting her in her erasure. Its like a spider donning the skin of its prey to appease the webbed in distress. Sacarine and smothering in its intensity. We'd done hard labour, shifting boxes, sifting and sorting, for maybe four hours. We'd earnt it

When my Dad came home he was greeted at the door, my Mother was always the first one there, always the first to inform him of the goings on, always there to cover her tracks before any of us could get a word in edgeways.

I've forgotten what her voice sounded like (As I rightly should) but i remember what she said; "Look what the children did." Proud as a fucking peacock. I'm not sure Dad was computing at the time the scale of loss. Just peicing everything together. We all were so chuffed, shed was clean, tangible and satisfying work done. When I hugged him in greeting I couldn't understand what was wrong. We'd been told it was fine what was happening.

Its only the next day we knew. We'd been gathered in the room by Dad, he looked like he hadn't slept or eaten. My Mother was there. He talked about all the stuff that was lost. From each of us he got answers to the question he asked. It came to light who was to blame, and my Mother stood there, eyes like flint and face blank. But there was satisfaction in her poise. A smugness which only a child can discern from their parent. Its the only time i've seen my Dad break something in anger. He grabbed Her Laptop from the table and smashed it against the wall yelling; "That was my life." Me and the youngest were ushered upstairs by the older pair of us children.

I could hear the sounds of shouting, muffled through the floor. I could feel the volume. Couldn't discern anything.

Things were different afterwards. In the days and weeks that came things were strained and civil. Never more than that. Dad bought my Mother a new Laptop as recompense. Not to appease.

Then of course things got worse. My Mother became more cruel.

How is that possible you ask?

She wanted no part of family gatherings- which were a part time haven for us kids where we could taste some degree of freedom. Yes, I know, from one broken home to another different in texture and better kept broken home, but hey, a house where we get fed well is a better house than the one we lived in. So Dad would have to take us or we'd be stuck at home. My Mother really had an inferiority and god complex all at the same time, which was indiscriminate as to where it extended and amounted in a whole new flavour of isolation. We got nothing from her, if she gained something we were left with the scraps of it. If we wanted to do something, we'd need to ask Dad.

Dad was sleeping downstairs on the fold out sofa-bed. He'd been having back problems and wasn't getting much sleep. His feet were in a bad way. And he was still working. The oldest sibling had gotten out to Uni, far away, yet still the claws of my Mother seeked to control from afar, calling and arranging and financing selectively, and Dad was the one who was ensuring that things were alright for the oldest, driving there and back.

Things were a'changing tumblerina's. On the long drives tooing and froing the oldest and Dad were talking, my brother sometime was there to help with moving stuff. And things were being learnt about what life was like when Mother dearest had the children to her self. They didn't share much, but the mask was slowly being peeled off, revealing the monster beneath.

Dad got treated like a taxi driver (his words when we've talked about it) by my Mother the few times we went on holiday during the begining of my teenage years. Simply the means by which to transport us all. We went on miserable trips to shitty places, all booked on the cheap with nothing much for the kids to do, and no real intention of it being a time of rest and relaxation. We we're there because thats how our Mother wanted it, we we're there so my Mother could keep control and feel powerful.

The straw that broke the camels back was a trip overseas. We had no warning of it, we were told that we we're going; me, the youngest and my brother. Dad wasn't invited. I didn't want to go. I refused. The youngest joined me in this. We were adamant. She raised her voice, which brought my Dad upstairs. He took our side. "They don't want to go, so don't make them."

Then the mask slipped and Dad saw her. She yelled with such vitriole and said such cruel things about me and the youngest, how she did not care and that this is what was going to happen. I was 13 years old at the time, I yelled back, but she upped the ante, and said shit i can't remember but clearly crossed the line. I could see it in my Dad's face. I ran into my room and didn't let anyone in.

It was later that night that Dad told me that She was taking the youngest on the trip, that I should go with them just so they were ok, that my brother was going too- for the same reason. He said the youngest wanted to go. Years down the line I now know that my Mother cornered her 11 year old child and cowed them into submission till they said yes. I went. I don't have happy memories of that place. I know now it was my Mother exercising her power over us. Showing that Dad could'nt do shit. It was a waste of money. But by now it should be clear that this was never about money. It was about control.

She got what she wanted thereafter. Drained the collective funds of the family setting up a business which Middle Class White Suburbun Mothers usually do. We were dragged along to craft fairs and had to set shit up. My Mother was shit at it, didn't get much demand, couldn't manufacture for shit and for all her exploitation of her children and spouse, couldn't make it work. She foisted the shit she made on relatives and family friends, the few that still visited. She drained my Dad's public pension. Her money sat nice and cushy.

Her side of the family is every bit as bad as her and worse. Competitive, Colourist, and Liberal (i'm not talking left wing, no these are wealthy middle of the roaders who think woke-I fuckin hate this word- is when you let people of colour date your kids). There's the intergenerational abuse and trauma, the patriachal and archaic familial authorities with the eldest uncles, there's the histories of sexual assualt. Just a fucking shit show. My mother is the darkest of her sisters, and the biggest in body type of them. So that's another facet of shittery which is introduced into this cacophony of cuntfuckery. (I go by Hannah Gatsby's Definition of the word Cunt). That's not to say all of them are monsters, im sure there are really kind people there, but like panning for gold, theres a whole lot of mud to sift through.

Anyway, the reason why this is important is we get a once in several years visit from one of the sisters of my Mother- yes they would be my aunt, but I've disowned the lot of them cause fuck 'em- who pulls up with her kids and her spouse in a fancy car and all the mannerisms of a Victorian Lady visiting a rival. She can put on an even better show of the kindly aunt than my Mother can, it's like all the child slave picked Nestle chocolate in the world can come from that woman when she opens her mouth. After they leave there is no end of things we did wrong and also my Mother wants a new car.

So she gets a new car (barely used), exactly how she wants it. The money comes out of the shared account with my Dad. I nor my siblings have nice things. Any gifts or toys come from Christmas time and come via Dad's extended family. The same with any new clothes. I ran away into my books every chance I could get. When I wasn't reading I was catching up on all the Internet from 5 years ago on a shitty little phone. It was the only way I could escape into the outside world, have something to talk about, or even have a vague notion of what was going on. My eyesight deteriorated rapidly. Anything further than about 50 cm away loses focus now, At 20 metres only the bigger things like cars and trees are visible. I can tell what smudge is a squirrel, what streak in the sky is a bird.

I wonder now if I would have lost so much vision if I grew up in a different household. Would I be in prime physical form- having followed my passions and been supported from the begining?

I and my siblings get by the best we can, we do what she wants, and that's the end of that of it till next time. I don't talk about the aches and pains I have, how my feet and bones hurt, how I have really only been functioning breathing through one nostril. At school i don't eat well, what gets packed up either is nasty or what i could manage in the morning beforehand.

Gorged on power my Mother made her final move to get Dad out of the house for good. My Mother asked for a divorce. She'd had enough, she was cocksure when she said- no demanded it, and she would be keeping the kids with her at the house. She was so secure in that, that we were so firmly in her grasp. Dad had explained how he would be living away on his own a couple of days earlier, that we could visit whenever. So she asked for a divorce, and Dad aquiesced, asking "what would it look like?" I think she'd expected a fight at the time, and was stumped as how to proceed. It makes me smile a little now when I look back on it. She'd achieved her victory, now what?

Dad started listing her demands on his Laptop, and the older pair of my siblings sneaked us upstairs. And this is where shit was about to go topsee turvy on the master manipulator. The two eldest of the children walked us through their thoughts about what was happening. Outlining the consequences of living with either parent. We took it to vote, who wanted to stay with Satan, and who wanted to live with Dad- someone none of us knew too well.

We chose Dad, and together we went back downstairs to deliver the verdict.

Few people get the chance to see the view they are held in by their abuser, the perspective from which they deemed it entirely in their purvue to do as they wished and abuse their victims. I guess I'm just lucky.

I don't remember who said it, but we made the announcement to our parents, that we want to live with our Dad. The look of shock on his face, the man was dumbfounded, bless his old shiny head. The words that were said next will likely stay with me till the day I die.

My Mother said the following;

"I'm not going to pay maintenance."

I think my Dad got a true measure of her that day. Maintenance. Like a fucking gas boiler. Maintenance. Her own FUCKING CHILDREN. We weren't people in her eyes. We were things. That constantly required attention and nourishment. Well, if the camels back was broken before, its body's been reduced to ash now. The mendacity. The Fucking Gall. To be unable or unwilling to recognise the humanity of a child. The person they will grow into. She got teary eyed after that, tried to make herself the victim for abandoning her. Fuck her. And all she stands for.

Given how we weren't going to be living with her, she saw no reason to keep the house, it was in both my parents names, so the amount from the selling was to be split equally. The house needed some repairs and refurbishing, so we could get the best price we could, an investment which would pay dividends in the long run.

But because my Dad suggested it, and my Mother is a vindictive spiteful, putrid, hospitilisation worthy case of evil, she said no. We'd do it ourselves. Save money that way.

It was never about the money. It was always about power. I can say now that I hate wallpapering.

The house was sold. We moved out before our Mother did, taking the majority of the things with us. She had cash in the bank to buy shit. We've rented ever since. The houses haven't always been great and Landlords of course can be bastards. One of the houses we stayed in had something that had died in the walls. Some instinctual part told me. that cloying sickly sweet aroma of a rotting corpse, it filled the entire house. But we're somewhere better now.

My mother would for two years try to visit us, on birthdays and celebratory occasions- always playing the cheated parent, the weeping mother who wished to see her children who'd been stolen away. She never got through the door. We'd (me and my siblings) meet her there and tell her to go away- civily. The youngest told her to stop the act once, and she did. Its freaky shit watching someone who was bawling their eyes out a minute ago suddenly stop the crying, stand up straight and look you in the eye, the semblance of hurt gone, only the hunger remaining.

Our Dad had told us we need to be careful how we act, cause if its seen that we're becoming delinquent, or misbehaving, well then, legally my Mother would have grounds by which to take us back. We had to wait until the youngest was 18 years old, no longer a child in the eyes of the law before we could truly be free. Those were the longest 5 years of my life. We had to let her know where we lived. She moved a couple of streets away. She let us know that should we ever wish to visit she was nearby.

We'd be looking constantly to the door on Birthdays and National Holidays, seeing the car of the make my Mother drove on the road, ducking back onto the pavement. Seeing a head of grey hair of a certain cut would make me walk in the opposite direction. She sent texts everyday wishing us well, always the same message, the same saccharin loving bullshit. It took threat of legal action to force her to cease seeking to interact with us.

My grades kept slipping during this time. I barely passed my A-levels, and had no one to speak to. Dad and us 4 children had a long way to go. It's taken 7 years to reconcile most of the significant stuff thats happened to me, to the family, sorting out the relationships I have with my siblings and Dad.

Im living on my own now at University 100 miles from my family. Ive never had so much freedom. And its only now that the little things are creeping back. I played with lego and Hotwheels as a little kid- but that stopped when i was 8. Most of the food i ate gave me some kind of food poisoning or bad digestion -my Mother couldn't cook for shit, but we had to eat it. My limbs are proportioned for someone taller than me, so i know i didnt eat enough.

I had a cello teacher who was racist and probably never was sober- who i was terrified of. They hated that i didnt practise but never cared why. No room to practice in my room and Mother had her migraines, on top of chores and homework. None of my teachers looked out for me, only a special needs assistant who i learnt died of cancer a couple of years after i left secondary school, and if i had a choice i would never go to any of those schools again. Every form of discrimination was present there. And my problem was I called people out on their shit. I was bullied by my siblings and at school up until sixth form. And my Mother suceeded- as much as i hate them for it and want to kill them violently with my bare hands- i have nothing to go back to in my hometown. Its why i hate the holidays.

15 years of my life, almost 3/4 of my entire existence i survived under her rule. It fucks with me when I look in the mirror and I see some of her features in my face.

Never had anyone to confide in. One of the scars of the past is i don't tell my siblings or my dad more than i have to. But I feel that can change now. In writing this ive relived parts of it and rediscovered others. I can probably count the good times on one hand. I have no childhood friends. Only people who knew me. I struggle to make friends and maintain friendships. Relationships are still alien to me. I've my Mother to thank for that.

But I'm healing now. I've made friends for the first time- real friends (im taking things steady, I think I love them platonically, which is really fucking funny, cause we're a really hot trio), I've had one night stands, I'm no longer afraid to kiss who i like, men, women, anyone in between- about who'll judge me for my looks or what will my family think. I'm here for me now. I survived my Mother, I'm begining to thrive, I'm starting to be funny, give compliments, smile. And I'm putting what I want first. I also have main protagonist hair which is sick as fuuuuuuuuuuck-Think OG cowboy BeBop

I wrote this for me, to tell my story here first, before I tell it for real, to somebody else. I want others to understand that not every story of abuse is such a tragic story. Sometimes the victims win. I've disowned my Mother- I refer to them as my biological mother now, I've only used 'my Mother' here so it's an easier read. I probably won't talk about this again, but there's still a few things i need to story(verb) out of myself. My main message is this:

You need time away from the place where you're hurt to even begin to feel the true extent of it. And that its ok to feel angry. The main thing is that you can heal, you just need time. And in writing this i realise how much I love my Dad. When I next visit im gonna give him the biggest hug I can, and he'll have no clue why.

You'll know tho :)

#surviving trauma #self healing #toxic parents #fuck abusers #surviver #real story #surviving narcissism #narcissism

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luverofralts · 2 years

Text

Arkhelios University

“No, you have to lift your arm higher, Aunt Wanda. No, like this.”

Theo raised his arm dramatically to illustrate his point and Wanda tried to follow along. She never thought that she’d see the day when she was learning advanced magic from Roman’s son. Roman could conjure fire and a few parlour tricks, but he was far from a competent magic user. In the brief time that Wanda had spent with Kamalani, she’d never once seen her use proper formal magic, so she’d assumed that demons were simply dependent on their own skills. Roman was a decent demon when he put his mind to it and his mother had been nothing short of terrifying even without formal magic.

Theo on the other hand seemed to be a mixture of both. He could do powerful demonic spells in one moment and switch flawlessly to a simple spell to conjure water in the next. It wasn’t complicated magic, but the foundation of a skill was there and Wanda couldn’t help but be impressed by the quality of his education. She’d seen what Salem had paid to send Roman and Ulyssa to boarding school, and even if Roman was paying less than that for his son’s education, it couldn’t be too far off. Wanda would always regret not trying to develop her own skills, but she’d had a less than sympathetic mother and no money to pay for her own schooling. It was only after the death of Abraham that the stigma of using magic seemed to vanish and by then, Arkhelios had needed her in a different role to help it survive. If she ever found someone to run for office to replace her, maybe she could take a few classes of her own.

“Is my hand supposed to be tingling? It feels wrong,” she asked, taking note of the different colour of the energy in his hand with frustration. “Can I look at your textbook again?”

Wanda was determined to make the most of her time with Theo. It was rare to see him focused on schoolwork without getting bored, but they’d already been going over the most basic spells for over an hour now without a break.

While the Helios family held weekly family dinners, the Bellamys had only drifted further apart in Omar’s absence. Adam and his family, and Omar’s widows and their children kept to themselves after the attack that ended Omar’s life. Wanda had no interest in hearing deranged stories and theories about Theo or Roman being the culprit and she had her doubts about Kamalani being the murderer as well. Her brother had been pressured from high up to to buy into the constant need to blame a woman who Wanda was pretty sure was dead. It was lazy police work, and frankly she expected better from her brother and her officers. As long as she ran Arkhelios’ government, she needed to have her police force hunting murderers and not the ghost of a demon. It was embarrassing.

“Abe! You’re sunburnt again!” Roman chided, trying to assess the danger his fiance had put himself in by going outside in the heat. “You’re going to hurt yourself or the baby. Let me get you a glass of water. Go lie down and I’ll bring it up to you.”

Roman hadn’t been able to spend most of their first pregnancy with Abe and was clearly traumatized by losing Adrian before their kids were born. Every little thing Abe did was wrong according to Roman and it was driving him up the wall. Each meal was planned down to the smallest ingredient according to a dietician Roman had consulted. Abe couldn’t even keep track of all the pre-natal vitamins he’d been ordered to take and even the slightest injury sent Roman into a panic. Abe had smacked his head opening a cupboard in the kitchen and Roman had forced him to spend the entire rest of the afternoon with an ice pack so he could monitor his fiance for signs of a concussion. If Roman could get away with wrapping him in bubble wrap before sending him out into the world he would. Abe was starting to see why his mother and Lucy enjoyed going to work so much. It was the only place he could escape Roman’s good intentions.

“See? The energy sticks together better like this,” Theo declared. “It’s not enough energy for a demon to be interested in, but the witches like to add it to their spells to make them more powerful.” He looked around him for either of his parents before speaking. “If I prick my finger and put it in the energy, the blood makes it strong enough to do harder magic. I’m not supposed to play with that until next year though. I read ahead in my textbook.”

“How much more powerful?” Wanda asked curiously, then caught herself before Theo could answer. “No, sorry I don’t need to know. You were born with your abilities. There’s good reasons for regular witches to avoid blood magic. Sorry, I was just curious.”

Theo shrugged and took the ball of energy into one of his hands. Within seconds, the entire ball had been absorbed into Theo’s hand, dissipating before Wanda’s eyes. She could see Theo’s eyes flicker slightly as his body processed the energy he’d absorbed. It may not have been enough energy to lure a demon with but Theo seemed satisfied with it.

“You can help me study for my exams at the end of the semester,” he offered. “My parents aren’t really any help and my sisters are just babies. You could probably understand most of it.”

“Sure, whatever I can do to help,” Wanda replied quickly, eager to walk through Theo’s exercises for herself. Spending more time with Theo meant learning to conjure things she’d only dreamed of and would have never had access to on her own. She was accepted in other countries as a political leader, but every time she approached a coven of witches, she was rudely turned away. Besides, it also meant Roman having to spend more time with her husband and maybe mending their fragile relationship before it shattered under the weight of past wrongs. She’d pushed Hunter into reconsidering some of the things he thought about his nephew, and she was hoping that Abe might do the same for Roman.

“Hey! Roman! Ginny here wants to talk to you about your dead mom!’

Lucy’s voice called across the lot, alerting everyone on the street along with its intended recipient. She’d arrived with her group of Rivales minions and surprisingly her daughter as well.

Abe took this opportunity to take Roman up on his suggestion to lie down. If his sister was here with Kaeileen and Ginevra, he would take his chances inside away from whatever drama was about to unfold.

To Roman’s surprise, his uncle joined him on the porch to welcome their guests. Roman didn’t know why Hunter had any interest in their visitors, but it was always helpful to have someone else around to throw in Lucy’s path as you escaped.

“Lucy, could you maybe not scream at the top of your lungs about my mother?” Roman asked with a sigh. “Our useless police force just charged her with another murder and people are going to freak out if you keep bringing her up.”

“Hey Ginny,” Hunter said quickly, shifting his weight awkwardly like a teenager at a school dance. “You look good. I mean, you seem good. I mean, you-”

Hunter averted his eyes from the plunging neckline on the skimpy dress his ex was wearing, only to realize that he was now accidentally ogling her butt instead. Things between him and Ginevra had imploded years ago when he caught her cheating on him, but he couldn’t deny that despite the hurt, the attraction was still there.

“Here,“ Ginevra interrupted before Hunter could stammer anything else embarrassing. “When we were cleaning up one of the rooms after the reno, we found a box of stuff with your mom’s name on it. I figured that you could maybe give it a home. If you wanted it that is.”

“Y-you should probably just burn that and be done with it,” Roman stammered, backing away from the box. “Why would anything of my mother’s be in the Rivales house? This is probably some trap that will spring open the minute I touch it.”

Ginevra rolled her eyes dramatically and smacked the side of the box for effect.

“I already went through it,” she sighed. “It’s just some paintings. Not even naughty or expensive ones.”

“Well, I can see that you haven’t changed,” Hunter remarked bitterly by the door. “Always looking to cheat people if you can.”

“They look like she was studying a famous Strangetown artist and mimicking her style,” Ginevra continued, ignoring her ex’s remarks. “I visit Strangetown a lot for concerts, so I have a few Romana Rivales prints at home myself and your mom’s brushwork is just as good as hers. She picked some weird subjects to capture though. I can’t say that I’m a fan.”

“Otherwise you would have kept them for yourself or sold them off,” Hunter sniped. “If these had any value, you wouldn’t be dumping them off on Roman.”

“I hear that murderers sometimes sell art they make in prison,” Lucy supplied helpfully. “With a new murder charge and scarcity high because of her supposed death, Roman could probably turn a decent profit if he found the right market for them.”

“Thanks, Lucy,” Roman replied curtly, grabbing the box from Ginevra’s arms. His mother’s troubled art could wait for another time. He wasn’t exactly in the mood to dwell on the past.

“Have you been working out? You look kinda flabby,” Ginevra teased, pinching Hunter’s arm. “Are you working on getting that dad bod before your kid is even born? I like a man with some meat on his bones.”

Roman recoiled in horror at the look that passed between his uncle and Giovanni’s baby sister. There wasn’t an inch of fat on Hunter, but he seemed to be enjoying the comment all the same.

Since finding out that Elaine was his uncle’s birth mother, Roman wasn’t sure how to label feelings that dealt with Hunter. Should he be disgusted and appalled at Abe’s half-brother’s wandering gaze or at his father’s adopted brother’s look of interest in his old flame? Either way, it was gross to watch and Roman wanted no part in continuing this reunion.

“Uncle Hunter, give me a hand with that box and we’ll put it in my office,” he said with a small sigh. At least he wasn’t the only one to embarrass the Bellamy family. “Lucy, Abe’s upstairs having a nap. If you’re here to bother him, come back later.”

#sims 2 #arkhelios #arkhelios university #Roman Bellamy #Abe chun #hunter bellamy #lucy chun #Kaeileen Rivales #wanda hydes #sim: Theo Bellamy

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