Strange Job Swap
“Oh it's beautiful!” exclaimed the customer waiting in line. I handed her a nicely decorated cake for her son's birthday.
“It's no big deal. Just doing my job.” I acted like it was no big deal, but really I was gladly accepting the praise!
“This is perfect though. Have you considered being an artist?” she replied with a slightly more serious look.
“Yes I have actually…but the job market is tough.”
“Aww you'll get there eventually! Don't give up! Well anyway, you made my day so for that, thank you!”
“You're welcome.” I was a bit sad though, because she was right; I SHOULD be an artist. I recently earned my bachelor's degree, but yet I was still stuck in this dumb hick town, working as a grocery store cake decorator. I may have been good at what I do but I wouldn't want to do it forever!
At least my co-workers are pretty decent, especially my fellow bakery buddies, Chase, Amber, and Domingo. Amber was cool and didn't take anyone’s shit, which is why I loved seeing her because I didn't have much confidence when dealing with unruly customers. Domingo was very sweet, and even though he didn't speak very good English, he's hella good at his job. And Chase, well…he's hot! His bleach blond hair somehow always caught the light at a perfect angle. I don't know how I even kept my focus when he's working next to me.
At the end of my shift, I clocked out, and decided to buy a couple groceries like I normally did. I scanned everything at the self-checkout, put the receipt into one of my bags, and started walking towards the exit. The store had 2 exits on either side of the front, but I only took one because the other had a certain asshole at it - Richard.
The greeter position was removed a long time ago, but they bring it back for employees that have been injured or are too old, so that they can keep their jobs. Now this old guy named Richard had surgery a long time ago and became the greeter while he recovered. But yet he never went back to his old position.
He always stays at one specific entrance, and the reason I hated him so much was because he's racist. Part of his job has him checking customers’ receipts to make sure they didn't steal anything, which seems pretty unnecessary when you have those anti-theft machines at the exit. But I've seen him. The only people he checks the receipts for are minorities. It's not a subtle thing either; he’s super friendly, greeting and saying goodbye to all the white people passing but when it comes to someone who's not, his demeanor suddenly changes.
My luck must've run out today, because I found the sliding glass doors at my usual exit were broken and currently being fixed. The area was blocked off by a barricade, and I knew there was only one other way to leave. I headed over to the other exit, and there Richard was, waving goodbye to a white mother and her toddler. He was wearing his typical gray uniform shirt that was clearly too small, because you could see his gut and nipples trying to poke through. Gross.
I moved through the aisle, trying not to draw attention to myself, but it was all for nothing because right on cue, Richard walked up to me and gave a great big (and so obviously fake) smile.
“Hello sir, can I see your receipt please?”
“Richard, it's me, Marco. I work in the bakery. You've seen me a million times before.” His smile suddenly faded, and his eyes narrowed, as if every ounce of happiness in his body just vanished.
“That's no excuse. How do I know you aren't stealing?”
“Because I want to keep my job?”
“Don't backtalk to me. You seem awfully suspicious today.” He then reached for his walkie talkie and started to page a manager. I really was able to walk out with no repercussions because I truly didn't steal anything, but there's a chance he would page the Asset Protection lady, who was almost as awful.
“Hello? Is anyone there?” Nobody answered him. Thank god.
“Am I free to go now?” I said happily. The anger returned to his face.
“Just don't let me catch you stealing again. Or there'll be consequences!”
“Yeah…suuuure.” I walked out the door, into my car, and back home. I can't believe some people honestly. I was so sick of this town! I needed to move away real soon.
When I got home my dog, Kenny, was excited to greet me as usual so I let him outside to do his business while I got into my running clothes, prepping for a run. As I let Kenny back in, I went to check the mail and found a weird envelope in between the bills and spam. I opened it up and it was a letter addressed “to whom it may concern”. I threw it away without a second thought but Kenny suddenly ran up to the trash can, took it out, and placed it back in front of me.
“You really want me to read this, don't you boy?” I said cheerily as I patted him on the head.
“To whom it may concern,
Are you struggling with your current job? Unhappy with the life you have? Well I have just the cure for that! We are now selling happiness inducing coins for only $1 with free shipping! One flip of this coin will guarantee you will soon get a job you love! Get it fast before it all runs out! Just follow the link on the back of this letter if you are interested.” - VV
I wondered who or what VV was supposed to be, and $1 with free shipping sounds too good to be true, so this seemed like a scam. I also wasn't a superstitious person, but for some reason my gut was telling me that this was a good idea. Kenny seemed to think so too as he was wagging his tail under the table and I read. I followed the link listed on the back of the page, typing in each random letter and number combination into my phone and ordered the lucky coin. I went to bed that night feeling a little more hopeful.
The next day at work was just like the previous day, only the door was fixed so I didn't have to walk out the exit Richard was standing at. We did make eye contact though, and he shot me a dirty look. I got home to find that the package had already arrived, which was awfully quick. I cut open the box and inside was a golden coin with a picture of a brain on it. The other side had a picture of a person with their arms spread wide. It was a really weird design. I read the instructions.
How to use:
Flip the coin
No matter what side it lands on, you'll be guaranteed happiness in your new job!
It sounded so lame, but I followed the instructions anyway. I flipped the coin the air, and slapped it on the back of my other hand. Tails. Nothing happened. I guess it was just $1 so it wasn't a huge waste of my time. It's pretty cool looking so maybe I could display it on my dresser or something.
I felt especially tired the rest of the night, but I was fine because I had a day off tomorrow. I was gonna go to the park with Kenny, as well as do a few errands. I was just glad I had time away from my job.
The next morning my alarm went off for some reason. I must've accidently set it by mistake. The weirder thing was Kenny wasn't there. Normally at the sound of my alarm, he comes running from wherever he was sleeping, and jumps on the bed to get me up. But there was nothing. When I started to truly wake up and become more alert, I realized that my alarm was set to the default or something. Instead of my usual calming piano, it was an annoying ringing. I opened my eyes to see what was happening. My vision was blurry, but I could tell I wasn't in my own room.
What happened? Did someone kidnap me? The alarm clock wasn't even on a phone, but rather it was an actual alarm clock. I had no idea what was going on, but I reached over to turn it off so I could think. I'm certain I must've been kidnapped somehow but why? And why would they set an alarm clock? I couldn't see but felt around the nightstand for a clue and found a pair of glasses. When I tried them on, just like that, my vision returned to normal. I had perfect vision before! Why did I suddenly need glasses? I reached up to scratch my head and found my hairline was incredibly receded. I was balding! I looked down with my now clear vision to find an even worse fact. I was chubby!
I sat up and stared at the foreign gut and two large man tits, as well as numerous graying chest hairs. I ran my hands through the hair, pinching them to make sure they were real. I pinched the tits as well, and felt sensations I've never felt before as they wobbled when I let go. I ran my hands through my face and felt a mustache and double chin, and began feeling nauseous at the thought of what I actually looked like. I didn't see a mirror in the room so I walked out the door trying to find a bathroom. The fat jiggled all around as I ran.
I got to the bathroom and nearly puked on the spot when I saw who I was. Richard. Oh god no. Of all people, I had to look like this racist bastard? I stared at myself and grazed my hands along my face. Suddenly I felt angry and started pinching it instead, as if I was doing the same thing to the real Richard, but denial didn't help; that was my face and it hurt. I touched his mustache and pinched it, as if it would come off.
Just then I heard the doorbell ring. I didn't want to interact with anybody looking like this but until I figured out how to fix it, I knew I had to pretend to be Richard. I answered the door to find the mailman.
“Howdy Rich! Woah uh.” He stared at my chest. I forgot I was still shirtless. Having this much fat hanging from my body was almost like answering the door naked. “I see you've lost some weight!” he said, obviously lying.
“Oh uh, thanks.” I replied, trying to imitate Richard’s voice, which was pretty easy considering I've mocked him before.
“Well anyway, not much today; just a letter.” He handed me a letter with a purple stamp on it.
“Well uh see you tomorrow!” The mailman went on his way and I closed the door. I opened the letter and found a note similar to the lucky coin advertisement.
To whom it may concern,
Good morning! I trust that your lucky coin worked well? Welcome to your new life! As promised, you now have a job that you love. Unhappy with the results? Just flip the coin once again, and make sure it lands on what it landed on before! If not, however, your fate is sealed. Best Wishes! - VV, Venefica Viola
Shit. They're not lying though. Richard did love his job. And since I was in his body, I now had that job! But who is this Venefica Viola? It sounded like Latin somehow. I walked back to the bedroom to find Richard’s phone. Luckily he didn't have any lock screen pin so I could easily get in. I searched for a translator, dodging the random pop up ads that were everywhere on his phone and looked up Venefica Viola.
Violet Witch. So magic is involved somehow. I needed to get my coin back so I could undo this! It must still be at my own house. Shit! I just realized why the alarm clock went off. Richard worked today! He had perfect attendance and never uses his PTO, so not going in was gonna look suspicious. I glanced at the clock and realized I only had 20 minutes.
Even though I'd love to see Richard be humiliated by going to work in his underwear, I decided that it wasn't worth attracting attention so I looked through his clothes to put on a work uniform. I found a pair of boxers and accidently flashed myself when I completely forgot I didn't have my own dick either. It was all wrinkly, but honestly a lot bigger than I thought. No. I was not about to get horny over Richard's dick! I found what he normally wore to work and put the rest on. I found tucking the shirt was more difficult than usual, as I had to pull it over my belly.
I guess I could make this work…for now. I hated to admit it, but Richard wasn't all that bad looking. It was his personality and habits that made him so repulsive, but now that I was in control of him, he didn't look all that bad. Maybe I could even turn things around for now and do something nice for the people I know he hates. I grabbed the car keys on the nearby table, and drove to work.
I walked in the store, put Richard's nametag on, and clocked in. I nearly started walking to the bakery area but stopped myself. I guess I'm really going to have to be a greeter for a day. This feels humiliating. I made my way to the front entrance and just stood there, waiting for customers to enter or exit.
Soon enough customers began arriving and I tried my best to act like Richard, though one customer asked if I was all right because I guess I overdid it. I didn't ask any customers to show their receipts though, because I might as well take advantage of being a greeter. I noticed Domingo at the checkout and when he bagged up his groceries, he approached me first instead of the door. He hastily grabbed his receipt and started showing it to me. I wasn't about to let this happen.
“No no it's ok. You don't have to show me the receipt anymore.”
“No?” He looked shocked.
“Checking receipts is stupid anyway. I don't need to do it anymore.”
“Really? I can go?”
“Yep! Have a good day.” It was unnerving seeing him so scared at the sight of me, but he smiled like normally did as he put the receipt back in the bag and walked out.
As I moved towards the break room to take my break, I noticed someone who looked awfully familiar walk through the door. It was…me! I mean Richard. It must've been; if I was in his body, he must've been in mine. It became more obvious by the way he was walking, taking big steps as if he was used to having his gut swinging around…like mine was now. God I hated this. I had to talk to him to sort things out. He smirked as I approached.
“Hey!”
“Oh it's you. I mean me. I mean,” he paused for a second and rounded his mouth into an even bigger smile, which looked uncanny with my face. “The old me.”
“What do you mean ‘the old you’”?
“Well seeing as I'm much younger now, while you're much older, I think the term is appropriate.”
“Well yeah, but not for long. I'm going to switch us back.”
“Oh no you're not! I may have preferred being white, but I’m enjoying youth again! Oh, and don't worry. I saw that coin thing and that letter this morning, and I made sure it would never see the light of day again. You got that…Richard?”
He called me that in the same mocking tone that I always use to call him. I can't believe this!
“Y-you can't do this! I had a future!”
“That's my future now old man. You know maybe I could be a model with these looks. Maybe make one of those, what do you kids call it? OnlyFans?”
God no, I'm an artist, not a pornstar. He can't do this!
“The greeter is a real fun job, Richard. Enjoy it. You're hired!”
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Okay can I talk?
eric belonging to @night-light-artz
Patches @eve-pie
Okay for the image above I was doing a “mock” warrior cat book. I miss the old covers but anyway
I kinda feel my art is…boring. I mean it just feels that way. Sometimes I feel I rush myself to get things done, and to be honest I hate having to rush myself. I look back at my recent post and they just fall FLAT. Flat as in the colors are just boring as heck. Lineart? I don’t really like. Not only that but everything feels so unpolished
My anatomy/details
I hate the fact I miss crucial details of my chat starts or even other people characters. I mean, HAVE YOU SEEN HOW I DONT EVEN ADD SILKY’s ANTLERS 99% of the time? That bothers me. And I see other people add them and I’m just “well damn I’m so lazy I can’t even add antlers on my own fucking character”.
Not to mention the poses. Everything feels so stiff with me. So dang stiff that you may as well call my art wood and use it as a support beam. I hate how I don’t use references for my art. Maybe If I used them more and actually took my time stuff wouldn't look like your average horrific Netflix Original cartoon of some movie.
Backgrounds/minor objects.
Do not get me started. I hate all of them. They look so low effort. I mean, I know I can do better with them! But it seems like I worry about the main characters so much. In fact, I feel the background just falls flat or blends in too much with the characters that it looks. Messy. If I draw a cup, i'll skip over details and it will look awful! Which isnt good, as it shows im lacking severly.
Time
And for time I rush. I feel like I have to literally push things out by day’s end and well…it affects my art. Lately o just been so focus on the hour and time it just makes the art suffer. Even if no one else sees it I do. I love my painted style, but it takes quite some time. And forgive me but I hate just doing sketches to and posting it. I prefer my art to be colored in and all the way. Now im not saying i dont like it when other people sketch. That would be a dick-head move of me.
Some days I fear if I don’t post or read inboxes everyone is going to think I purely abandoned them. I try to focus on my page. but just giving them a sketch at the end well...it makes me feel as if I just dissapointed them. I think to myself and say "I could have done better than that. Why did you even do that in the first place {Name}. "
I have like so much on my agenda and plans and then i realize I can’t do it all in one day. Hell sometimes I just make one day spefically on one subject.
If that day was animation day; I focus on an animatic.
If a certain day is art day and I want to set up my commission page (which is so messy I deleted it) then that’s the settled day. But I feel like I’m going so slow. It's like I am running out of time, and time is just passing by as I look at my clock.
And I'm not blaming anyone it's just my stupid head that makes me feel this way. I know no one is trying to rush me. But head is like "Oh but what if- and why not-". It bothers me. It clouds my vision and i don't realize in reality...no one is saying the things my brain is saying. Sometimes I feel like I'm bothering people when i draw their charcaters so much and tag them. I fear they just say 'Aw great it's this one person again."Sometimes I feel I need to be MORE original. And some days i feel i just need to give up entirely. Some days I think posting everyday will aggervate folks. Sometimes I envy the attention of others, and when I see what they gain or what following I have i look back at myself and say "Well maybe if you did this better than MAYBE you people will be interested in ya". And damn do i slam my head in a wall. Everyone just seems so happy, and yet here I am fretting over if this fucking dog I drew looks remotely interesting. And I just feel it...blends in. Like what is there so special about my art?
MY BLOG
And for this blog, I don't know if I truly have an identity for myself. There's Silky, there is Minty and Syrup, there is Simon and there is Shrimpy. But who do they belong to? What roles do they even serve in this blog? I want them to be my identity. I don't want them being just some sort of character leech. They lack story, they lack purpose, they are thrown in tropes and gag. But what do they relate to? Nothing. Nothing at all. And yeah yeah I know im thinking to DEEP into this. But it's been on my mind so much. And hell call me crazy for talking about them if they are real, but they mean a lot to me. A LOT.
So I tried to make my art interesting here like, i tried referencing images space. I tried adding more anatomy to Snowy since I am tired of doing the usual standing up pose. I even wanted to make the background feel more detailed. I feel a bit better, but I still fear everything is too...eh...bland. Maybe it is just me.
Sorry for the ungodly word of text. I know I shouldn't vent here.
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Dukeceitbrainrot here on anon. Do you have any ripe headcanons for Janus/Remus? 💛💚
Who am I fooling, we have so many that I can't even write them all out in one place without overwhelming myself! Here's some juicy ones though, just for you. @dukeceitbrainrot
Janus and Remus both have really bad abandonment issues, both from things Thomas has been through as well as losing Virgil from such a previously tight knit group. They cling to each other very, very hard. They fell in love out of necessity, out of proximity, out of 'you are the only one left for me,' but they still love, love, love.
They both watch a lot of horror films, sure, but their tastes are completely different. While Janus would bring things like Run. or Us to movie night, Remus will bring things like Slaughtered Vomit Dolls or Cannibal Holocaust and spend the whole film infodumping about the horrific backstories and crimes involved. Janus sits there utterly horrified the whole time, but he lets Remus have his fun nonetheless.
Remus eats a lot of weird stuff that's very bad for his health (I headcanon that he has the disorder pica among his menagerie) and Janus has to help him quell those compulsions in any way he can. That resulted in Janus learning to bake and cook creations that look or feel in texture exactly like the things Remus would want to eat. Such as sugar glass for that nasty glass swallowing habit, or fondant to replace fancy soaps. Janus once created candy that looks and feels like razor blades, just for him.
They are SO 'horrible beast and enabling owner' coded okay, "I don't know, I just let him play," and all else are you kidding me?? Janus enables the chaos for his own amusement and Remus's antics are an endless source of entertainment for him. Janus can be pretty easily grossed out, but it's creates flabbergasted affection towards Remus more than anything else.
A bit nsfw, skip if you need to. But their sex isn't actually as weird as you'd expect from Remus. He's a lot softer and sweeter to people he genuinely loves. He gets worried when he loves someone, will he scare them off, will he make them hate him like most others have, will they be just like the others? Their opinion actually matters to him, which is bizarre and terrifying for him to deal with. Janus is very good at reassuring him and keeping him close and safe when emotions do interfere with their encounters. Remus needs a lot of aftercare most of the time, he's very prone to those rushes of negative emotions following sex.
Remus gets injured a lot, either from fights with Roman or his own tendencies to step on/into his own weapons. Janus knows very basic field first aid because of this, and has to patch him up while chastising him pretty much 6 out of 7 days of the week.
Janus has really bad days sometimes, where his responsibilities and his role as Denial crash onto him like a train. He's hiding so much, holding so much back and away from the others. It's a taxing task. Remus shows a surprisingly strong soft side on those nights, caring for and comforting Janus through every trauma reaction he may have, be it screaming, crying, scratching at himself, etc etc. It can be really rough for both of them, but Janus is always incredibly grateful to Remus for staying with him through it, despite.
Remus does not care whether Janus likes affection or not, he WILL be being kissed and laid on and grabbed and tackled and shoved into Remus's chest 24 hours 7 days a week and he is not allowed to complain.
Shockingly domestic, sweet couple. always baking or gardening together or sitting on the sofa together doing nothing at all. The only difference is that There Is An Eyeball On The Coffee Table or Remus Filled That Pot With Human Waste So I Cannot Use It or other bizarre inclusions of disgusting things among their neat little domestic life.
Remus is a coffee drinker, Janus is a tea drinker. There are many arguments over this. 200 dead, 5000 injured.
Janus likes to try and plan civil, nice dates in The Mindpalace for them, but Remus always fucks it up in some horrific way, intentionally. What is love worth if it cannot flourish in chaos, huh Janus? Huh??
That's all for now, I love these two idiots so much
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The First Grader
CW for discussing the rape of children.
I've spent the past four years doing a lot of taking stock of myself and my life. It's not as easy when your brain has been swiss-cheesed by trauma and mental illness, leaving years-long gaps in your memory, but I've been doing it anyway. And I think I've come a hell of a long way, considering where I once was.
I was sitting with my assistant manager today out at lunch and we were talking; both of us have lived a parallel course to one another in some ways. Both of us were raped when we were single-digit children; both of us turned to storytelling to get us through our childhood and teenage years something like sane. And both of us were the kinds of lost, soulsick children who tried to bargain and beg and bribe people to be our friends.
There's a godawful kind of loneliness in that. And the scars it leaves are deep. Even when I've overcome a hell of a lot of my issues, and am working on more, that lonely first grader I was then still lives somewhere in me. I was telling him about it today and almost started crying in the Bob Evans.
I remember being that keenly. I have lost so many good memories, but I remember being this devastatingly heartsick little first grader, standing with a teacher, asking people to be my friend. And oh, do I remember the suffering that followed. And followed. And followed.
The upshot is that I'm aware that the sad little girl in me still wants to beg people for friendship. Or even to just care the bare minimum amount. For a long time, even very recently, I hated that kid. Yeah, she was me, but she was pathetic and no one wanted to hear that shit. No one cared. They didn't care in first grade, they probably mostly don't care now.
I'd like to pretend that I believe otherwise, but you know what?
I don't.
The difference is that I'm not a broken first grader anymore. The difference is that I'm learning how to stop giving a fuck back, in leaps and bounds. And I'd like to say that I'm sad to be doing so, but I'm not.
You should wanna be my friend. I'm loyal, I'm honest, I'm willing to give you the actual shirt off my back (and have) or hide a body for you (I haven't yet but could); I love my friends in a deep and committed and lifelong kinda way. The ones I have, the ones I know love me, don't have to really do much to keep me. Some of them I don't talk to for months at a time, but one thing I sure as hell never stopped feeling from them was like I meant something besides whatever can be gained from me.
You should wanna be. But if not, that's fine. That's honestly your loss. If you do wanna be, hold up your end. Give a fuck. Stop looking at the reflection of that sad little first grader and wondering what else you can get out of her with minimal or less effort. It's really as simple as that.
I'm an account manager over a major high dollar contract with twenty-seven employees I'm in charge of and responsible for. I'm a university student majoring in Fine Arts. I'm a wife and a mother and a storyteller. I'm an artist and an archivist. And I'm done hating that little girl crying for her loneliness. It's about time I protect her, instead.
Hold your end up or hit the fucking bricks. Or I'll make sure you hit them.
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