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storytimewriting · 4 months

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First Night at Freddy’s (HRN2)

Hi everyone!

Here's the second chapter to HR Nightmare. I've been so excited to share it with you all.

If you haven't read the first one, here's the link:

Perpetually Late

As always, the first look was granted to my Patreon subscribers! Chapter 3 is already posted there if you're too eager to wait! The link is below, as well as pinned to my profile.

Story Time Patreon

Let me know what you think!

I hope you enjoy :)

xx gwen <3

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HR Nightmare (2)

First Night at Freddy’s

By the end of the day, you were practically buzzing with anticipation.

Although you had only been working here for two weeks, it felt far too long to have not made any friends. Tonight was your opportunity. You were invited to join everyone tonight, and by Elle, no less. In your book, that was practically a miracle.

You wish you could say you weren’t nervous. You wish you could say that you were sure everyone would be friendly towards you. However, it was hard to believe that when Elle was your first real introduction to your coworkers.

You never really considered yourself to be a shy person, but you were rather introverted. You loved your alone time, and generally, you allowed people to approach you first. It was easier for you to get a read on people based on how they approached you. You would be able to assess the situation, see what type of person they were, and respond appropriately.

You were almost certain this is where you went wrong with Elle. You spoke first. You let yourself ramble on without control, and she clearly didn’t find your senseless rambling charming.

As you watch people filter out of the office, you wonder if they’re going straight to Freddy’s. It would make sense, considering the bar is only a few blocks away, but most people live close enough to the office to go home first if they wanted. You really didn’t want to be the first person at the bar, or show up in the same clothes you wore to work, only to have everyone else dressed more casually.

The floor is nearly empty when you timidly walk to your boss’s office. You knock on the door, only opening it when he calls for you to enter.

“What are you still doing here, Cora? I was sure you’d be with everyone at the bar already,” Mr. Cooper speaks as soon as you enter.

“Oh, I was just wondering if you were going as well,” you answer honestly. As sad as it was, Mr. Cooper, your boss in his mid-forties, was the closest friend you had in the office.

“Normally I’m not one to fraternize with my employees outside of the office, but Elle made me promise I would be a part of the celebration.” He smiles when he speaks of her, almost as if the thought of her alone was enough to spark happiness.

“Did you get to see the finished project?”

“I did,” he answers. “I’m very impressed with your work. It was extremely well done, especially for your first major project.”

“Thank you, sir. I enjoyed it,” you smile.

“How did you find working with Elle? Is she someone you’d want to collaborate with more often?”

“I- um- well,” you stumble over your words.

He laughs. “Normally, she’s quite charming, but she can be a bit of a perfectionist with her projects. A people-person who would rather work alone- strange, isn’t it?” You nod, despite not having seen this “people-person” version of her for yourself. “She’s exceptionally good at her job, though. It’s hard not to give her what she wants when she does such good work.”

“Then… why did you ask me to work with her?”

“She needed a good graphic designer,” he shrugs. “Most of the clients she takes on only need her copywriting skills- they’re not always looking for an entire team for their project.”

You nod in understanding. You want to ask him if that was what contributed to her distaste for you, but it feels inappropriate to ask your boss about his employees’ personal relationships. Plus, you’re still a bit embarrassed that you’re the only one who can’t seem to win her over.

“Well, any project you need a graphic designer for, I’d love to work on,” you say instead.

“Thank you, Cora. That’s a great attitude to have.” He stands from his chair and begins to gather his things. “Now, off we go. Elle will not be happy with us if we’re late.”

You’re certain Elle would be happier if you refused to show altogether, but you keep that to yourself.

You stand awkwardly as Mr. Cooper places his stuff in a bag. Your fingers toy with each other as your weight shifts from one foot to the other. He looks up and notices you, a soft laugh coming from him. “Are you waiting for me?”

“Yeah I,” you sigh, “I don’t really know anyone at the bar.”

“That’s alright, we can go together. Just grab your things,” he nods his head back towards your desk.

On your walk to the bar, Mr. Cooper opens up to you a bit. He talks about his wife and young daughter, and it is clear he is enamored with them. His eyes light up as he speaks of them and the grin doesn’t drop from his lips.

“Don’t tell Elle, but I’d rather be at home with them now. I know this was a big project that deserves the celebration, but I feel like I never have enough time with my family as is,” he admits as the two of you walk into the bar. “I’ll probably sneak out early. Don’t tell anyone.”

You don’t have time to promise him you won’t before Elle comes bouncing over.

“Mr. Cooper, you’re here!” she exclaims excitedly. She pulls him into a hug and he pats her back.

“Of course. I’d never miss a chance to celebrate your work.”

She smiles, big and proud. Her eyes stay trained on him, and you’re almost certain she hasn’t even seen you yet. The moment gives you a chance to study her. Her cheeks are flushed, her eyes are glossy, and you’re almost certain she’s at least a little drunk.

“Anthony said shots on him tonight. We have to go take one,” she urges him. She speaks to him as though they were best friends, and you find the dynamic amusing.

“I need to go to the restroom before I do anything else.” His hand falls on your back and nudges you forward. You stumble a few steps towards Elle. “Take Cora. I’m sure she’d love a shot.

Elle’s eyes fall on you for the first time. The smile drops off her face a bit, but not enough to push her lips into a frown. You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or Mr. Cooper that softens her, but she actually agrees.

“Fine,” her tone isn’t as harsh as usual, but she’s clearly not as excited about the idea of taking a shot with you. “You worked on the project, so Anthony owes you a shot anyway.”

You follow her to the bar, where a group of people are waiting for her return. There’s four people seated around the bar, three men and a woman. One of the men seems about the same age as you and Elle, and everyone else seems to be at least a few years older. Though, it’s clear this is the younger crowd of the office.

“Elle!” the younger man shouts. “Ready for another shot, babe?”

“Hey, you’re Cora, right?” the woman asks, speaking over him. You nod. “I’m Sarah. I saw your graphic design for the project- it was really good.”

“Thank you so much. That means a lot,” you smile. All the eyes in the group had fallen on you.

“You’re the one who did the graphic design?” the young man asks.

“Yeah,” your fingers toy with each other, “I did. It was a lot of fun- the first real project I got to work on here,” you laugh lightly.

“Oh really? You’re really good,” the man says. “I’m Anthony, by the way-“

“Alright, alright, are we taking shots?” Elle asks, interrupting the conversation.

Everyone says something in agreement, while Anthony leans over the bar to order more shots. One of the other men, who introduced himself to you as Blake, drags over another stool and places it next to Elle’s, gesturing for you to sit. You thank him and sit, before Anthony turns around, passing the shots to everyone.

Once everyone has one in hand, Anthony speaks. “To Elle,” a blush graces her cheeks, “and to Cora,” his eyes find yours and you smile, “for a successful project.”

The group cheers, tossing back their shots. The alcohol is bitter on your tongue, but no one would know it by your unchanging face. Elle, on the other hand, cringes outwardly. Her entire face twists together, her nose scrunches, and she sticks her tongue out in disgust. You want to laugh at her discomfort.

“Why are you smiling?” Her annoyed expression shifts to you when she finds your eyes already trained on her.

“I don’t know, I’m having fun,” you defend yourself.

Her eyes pinch tighter together, assessing you. “Well don’t look at me when you’re having fun then,” she pouts, turning away from you.

What was her problem? Seriously, what could you have done to annoy her this much? You’re not even allowed to smile without her biting your head off.

You roll your eyes and suck your lips into your mouth. You refuse to dignify her childish behavior with a response. Instead, you stand from your seat and move to talk to Sarah and the other man you hadn’t been introduced to yet.

He introduces himself at Mitchell, and you got the impression that he and Sarah were involved somehow. They ask how you’re adjusting to the office, and fill you in on drama about people you hadn’t even met yet. They’re very outspoken about some guy named Greg, who they say is extremely lazy and apparently will eat people’s food if left unattended in the fridge.

Throughout the conversation, the three of you had managed to take a couple more shots, and now you were sipping a mixed drink of your own. You could feel yourself becoming a bit buzzed, but it wasn’t anything you couldn’t handle.

You also noticed the other three, Anthony, Blake, and Elle, have a few more shots themselves. Cheeks flushed and hand placed on Anthony’s shoulder, Elle had her head thrown back in laughter. Her laugh was loud and confident, and her smile was proud.

Your head tilted in curiosity as you watched her. She seemed very friendly with Anthony, you wondered if they were dating.

Somehow, the group that got split in half merged back into one, and everyone was in conversation with each other.

“So Cora,” Blake draws the group’s attention to you, “how was working with our Elle? She’s quite the hard-ass in the office, isn’t she?”

The group laughs, and Elle smacks his chest, muttering some curse words at him.

“Oh she was definitely a bit of a hard-ass,” you shake your head at the memory. “I think she had me running back and forth between her desk and my own about a hundred times before she made me sit at her desk and walk me through exactly how she wanted the color.”

The group laughs at this, even Elle. Her cheeks are burning red, but she’s laughing, and you can’t help but to feel a bit accomplished.

“I remember the first time I worked with Elle on a project,” Anthony is laughing before he can even tell the story. “We were both supposed to be writing this blog for some new company, but Elle hated my wording so much she kicked me off altogether and just did it herself. Still split the commission with me though,” he winks at her.

“Remember when she first started working here?” Blake asks.

“Oh, you were so sweet and shy on your first day,” Anthony pinches her cheek, cooing at her. She swats his hand away quickly.

“I think it only took her about a week to be basically running the show,” Blake shakes his head, but his lips curl upward. “Had everyone eating out of the palm of her hand- even Mr. Cooper.”

“Alright, alright,” she speaks up, “as much as I love ‘pile on Elle’ time, I have to pee.” She hops off her chair and walks to the bathroom. Sarah follows after her.

“She really is a sweetheart though,” Blake finishes.

“Oh, she’s only my favorite person ever,” Anthony agrees. He has a drunken smile plastered on his face.

“I don’t think she likes me very much,” you admit.

“She invited you here, didn’t she?” Anthony asks.

“Yeah, but,” you sigh, unable to put your feelings into words. “I don’t know.”

Mitchell speaks next, which surprises you a bit. He seems rather quiet compared to the rest of them. “She just takes her work very seriously. Try not to take it to heart.”

You were trying. All you were doing was trying not to take it to heart, but it was a bit difficult when you saw how she interacted with everyone else. Your foot hugs the metal of the barstool you’re on, your fingers toy with each other, and your lips twist into your mouth.

A hand falls on your knee rather roughly. When you look up to meet Anthony’s drunken eyes, it’s clear the gesture was meant to be comforting. “Look,” he slurs, “everyone loves Elle. If you don’t yet, you will. Just give it time.”

You know he’s doing his best to reassure you, but the problem wasn’t with how you felt about Elle, it was with how she felt about you. Nevertheless, you nod and smile at him. He sits up straight and smiles proudly, as though he solved the problem himself.

You had never really had an issue with someone disliking you for seemingly no reason before. It was always easier to deal with someone who hated you for something you did, because at least there was a reason. But this? This was someone not liking you for who you were, which was much more difficult to stomach.

Still, you tried not to let it get to you too much. It was one person who didn’t like you. You could handle one person not liking you. Plus, there was a good chance you wouldn’t even have to interact with her that often.

You almost wished you didn’t like the people here at Freddy’s tonight. That way, there would be no chance of you and Elle running in the same friend group. Unfortunately, you really liked everyone you met here tonight, and they seemed to like you as well.

You and the three men ended up in a random conversation you could barely follow. The topics would change quickly and rapidly, but each of you would be just as invested in the new topic as the last.

At some point, Michell got everyone waters, and it took you until you finished your cup to realize that Elle and Sarah still had not come back from the bathroom.

You place your cup down on the bar and excuse yourself to walk to the bathroom. You’re still a little tipsy, but you’ve sobered up quite a bit.

The hallway outside of the bathroom is rather empty, compared to the rest of the bar. There’s one person on the far end on their phone, but other than that, you’re the only one there. A neon orange sign illuminates the hallway, lighting the walls in almost a sunset hue. You walk to the door with a “W” on the front and place your hand on the dark wood.

“I know what everyone thinks-“

“No one thinks that, Elle.”

“But-“

You push the door open before you can catch any more of the conversation. It halts quickly when the door squeaks. Both women are looking curiously at the door, assessing whoever was walking in. Sarah offers a small smile when her eyes meet yours, while Elle turns her back to you before you can catch hers.

“Hey, sorry,” your hand moves to hold your arm, “I just wanted to see if everything was okay.”

“That’s sweet Cora,” Sarah says. “We’re alright. Thank you for checking on us.”

“Yeah, of course. Do you guys need anything?”

“Just tell the boys we’ll be out in a minute.” She glances towards Elle before looking back at you. “If Mitch asks what’s taking so long, tell him I was feeling sick but I’m fine now.”

“Oh you’re sick?” Your eyebrows crease together as you look at her. “Do you need some water?”

She laughs and shakes her head. “I’ll get some when we come out. It’ll only be a minute. Thank you, Cora, really,” she says sincerely.

You nod and step back into the dark hallway. You mean to walk right back to the guys, truly you do, but you can’t stop yourself from lingering outside of the door for a second.

“Thank you, Sarah,” you hear Elle’s muffled voice speak softly.

“Oh, stop that, you. Besides, drinking always makes me sick. None of the boys will question us. They’re probably too drunk to, anyway.”

“I don’t know why it bothers me so much.”

“I know, babe, but it’s okay. Just try not to think too hard about it right now. Let’s just get you cleaned up and we’ll have a fun rest of the night.”

You walk away then. You were sure you had already heard more than you were supposed to, and the guilt of eavesdropping was settling in.

The guys’ heads turn towards you when you walk back. Mitchell has a few waters lined up and waiting on the bar.

“Everything alright?” he asks.

“Oh yeah. They said they’ll be out in a minute. Sarah was feeling sick,” the words fall from your lips easily, despite you not believing them yourself.

Mitchell is quick to stand from his seat. Clumsily, he grabs a water, and manages to spill a little on himself in the process.

“She’s okay,” you put your hands up to stop him. “She said to tell you she’s feeling better now. She just needed a minute to collect herself I think.”

“Are you sure?” He eyes you warily as you nod, but sits back down.

Elle and Sarah walk out of the bathroom then, smiles on both of their faces when they make it back to the group. Sarah takes the seat next to Mitchell, and Elle takes the seat next to her. Mitchell hands Sarah a water from the bar and throws his arm around her shoulders.

Elle’s smile didn’t quite seem to reach her eyes. A pink hue sat around her eyes and on her nose, and her lips were slightly swollen. Still, she seemed to hold such confidence, flicking a strand of hair over her shoulder as she laughed at Blake and Anthony.

Anthony had slumped over onto Blake at some point, and seemed to be nearly asleep now. Blake laughed and shook his head at Elle’s amusement.

“I think I should take him home,” he stood up, balancing Anthony with him.

“We better get going, too,” Mitchell said.

“Do you want us to ride the train home with you first?” Sarah asks Elle.

“Oh, no, I’m okay. You know I always make it home,” she waves her off.

“Yeah, but usually Anthony takes you home,” she argues. Her eyes shift from Elle to you. “How do you get home, Cora?”

“I just take the train downtown-“

“Perfect,” she cuts you off. “You and Elle can ride together. Give me your phone so you can let me know when you get home,” she holds her hand out expectantly, giving you no room to argue.

You hand her your phone, and she puts her number in rather quickly before handing it back to you. Elle doesn’t seem happy, but it’s clear she’s not going to argue with her at this point.

Everyone makes their way out of the bar, Blake holding up Anthony, Michell with his arm around Sarah, and you and Elle walking a few feet apart. You say your goodbyes quickly, giving everyone hugs, and gushing about how much fun you had.

Sarah tells you she loved hanging out with you tonight, and makes you promise that you’ll join them again next Friday. You agree happily.

Anthony places a wet kiss on Elle’s forehead before the four of them walk off in the opposite direction of where the two of you needed to go. Elle starts walking towards the train station without a word, and you’re stuck nearly jogging to catch up with her.

It was dark outside. The light illuminating the street mainly came from apartment windows. There were a few trees that were decorated in fairy lights, but that didn’t do much to light your way.

The wind blows on your face as you walk, now in step with Elle. She has her hands tucked into her jacket pockets and her head tilted downward. Her feet move quickly, and she nearly skips down the stairs at the station.

You somehow find the courage to speak to her while you’re both stood waiting for the train.

“Are you okay?”

“Hm?” she side-eyes you at the question.

“You just seemed a little upset in the bathroom-“

“It’s really none of your business,” she cuts you off quickly.

“I know,” annoyance laces your voice when you speak this time. “I was just trying to be nice. You should try it sometime.”

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “I am nice.”

“Really? I haven’t seen it.”

“That’s because I’m not nice to you. That doesn’t mean I’m not nice.” She has a cocky cadence to her voice, speaking as though the words that came from her were fact.

Your irritation grows. Something about her just got under your skin. She barely looked at you when she spoke, as if you weren’t even worth sparing a glance. A smug smile sat on her lips, cheeks and nose glowing red from the cold.

“God, you’re such a-“

“Bitch?” She finished for you.

“I was gonna go with cunt,” you smile sarcastically.

She looks at you. Her lips twitch upward at your annoyance. “That’s a good one. I don’t think I get that as often.”

She seems proud to be called such profane words, and her reaction throws you off. You’re confused enough to sit in silence until the train arrives about a minute later. Elle struts on, and you follow quickly behind her. The doors shut behind you, and both of you sway when the train begins moving.

“Why don’t you care about being called mean words?”

Her hand covered by the sleeve of her jacket holds onto the rails, keeping her steady. Her eyes trail up and down your body, studying you.

“Why would I care?” The question is laced with curiosity. You can’t tell if it’s genuine or not.

“Because you- well, you,” you stumble over your words. “Why would you not care what people call you?”

“Oh I do.”

“But you just said-“

“I just don’t care what you call me. Or what you say in general,” the smug smile is back on her face. The more you frown, the bigger she smiles.

“You’re such a-“

“Cunt, yeah we did this,” she cuts you off.

“An insufferable nightmare, actually,” you cross your arms over your chest.

Her eyes follow your movement. There’s a shift in her expression but you don’t know exactly why or what it is.

“Why do I get under your skin so much?” Her head tilts with her question.

“Because you’re rude.”

“Do you let everything bother you this much?”

“Nope, just you.”

She hums, but she seems satisfied with your answer. You aren’t exactly sure what it is about her that bothers you so much. You think it has something to do with her disliking you for no reason, coupled with the fact that she clearly likes annoying you.

“Do you enjoy bothering other people this much?”

“Nope, just you,” she reflects your response back to you, mocking your tone as well.

“Why?”

“It’s easy,” she shrugs. Her eyes look you up and down once again. “You’re easy.”

You know she’s goading you for a reaction every time she hits you with some smart remark, but you don’t have it in you to hold your tongue. It’s never been something you were good at.

“Obviously I’m not easy if you can’t get me to like you,” you fire back.

She laughs. “I think you’re projecting.”

Your fingers curl into fists, nails biting into your palms. You move to take a step towards her, but the train stops, causing you to stumble a few steps and nearly hit the dirty floor of the subway.

She laughs loudly, the hand not wrapped around the pole raises to her mouth. She nearly doubles over in laughter, and you want to push her to make her hit the ground.

“Oh my god, you can’t even walk right,” she manages to get out between fits of laughter.

“How old are you?” You roll your eyes.

“Twenty-five. I only learned how to walk about that many years ago, too.” She’s still attempting to muffle her giggles, but she’s managed to gain control of herself again. “Anyway, this is my stop.” She hops off the train.

You rush out after her, barely making it off the train before the doors close. “Wait,” you call out, “I’m supposed to be walking you home.”

She looks back at you over her shoulder, but doesn’t stop walking. “You?” The question is laced with disbelief. “What could you possibly do to keep me safe?”

“I don’t know, but isn’t it better to stay together?” Your feet move quickly trying to keep up with her.

You chase her up the stairs and only manage to catch her when she stops at a red light. She glances both ways across the street, and when she doesn’t see any cars, she walks across. You follow her.

“Are you seriously going to follow me the whole way to my apartment?” She glances at you briefly as you walk.

“Yes,” you answer honestly.

Her steps slow slightly, just enough to make it easier for you to walk side-by-side with her. “That doesn’t even make sense. Then you have to walk to your apartment alone.”

“I’m just a five minute walk from here, actually,” you shrug. “Usually I get off at the next stop because it’s a little closer, but it doesn’t make much of a difference to me.”

She turns down a side street. You follow. “You don’t need to walk me. I’m an adult. Besides, I walk alone most nights,” her tone is still dry, but it’s one of the nicer ways she’s spoken to you.

“I know I only met Sarah tonight, but she seems like she would kill me if something happened to you.”

She laughs at this. You smile. It’s not often when she’s laughing because of you, rather than at you.

“You’re probably right,” she agrees. She slows to a stop in front of a brick building. “Alright, this is my apartment.” She stands facing you in front of the door on the ground floor. “You’re not trying to walk me all the way up or anything, right?”

“No, no,” you shake your head. “I’m sure you’re fine from here.”

“Alright well,” she turns to tap something next to the door. The door buzzes and she opens it, but stops before she walks inside. She groans. “Give me your phone,” she holds her hand out.

“What?”

“Now I’m gonna feel all guilty if you die after walking me home. You can text me when you’re home so I won’t have your death on my conscience.” She sounds genuinely annoyed at this, like you’ve inconvenienced her more by walking her home.

Despite wanting to argue, you hand her your phone unlocked. She quickly types something into it before handing it back to you.

“Walk fast. I’m tired and want to sleep,” is all she says before walking into the building and letting the door close behind her.

You do walk fast, and manage to get to your apartment in five minutes. It was a relief that you lived so close to Elle. Walking home alone at night scared you more than you would like to admit.

You send a text to Sarah, telling her that both you and Elle managed to get home safely. She thanks you and tells you how much she enjoyed meeting you. Then, you send a text to Elle.

I made it home safe, you send.

Shame, she replies.

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lordirony · 17 days

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Hmm, some thoughts on my behavior about my art lately... and then some

So like if you've been following me for awhile, maybe this is noticeable. Maybe not. idk. But, I haven't been sharing much of my art like outside of patreon. And it's weird because it seems not to be fear-based? Like I personally do not care if my art gets scraped or whatever like have fun with it, it's not going to help you, so ai shit is not a factor in this. I just cannot seem to Remember to share stuff. Honestly, even on Patreon a lot of the times. Like i'll post stuff (besides my comic) like a week or so late. And then who fucking knows if it'll see the light of day outside of patreon. I am Forgetting because I am not feeling the need(?) or any reason to really share???? And I -think- it's because I've been so disconnected with people and life, that I'm like forgetting that the reason why I share my art in the first place is "hey maybe some rando I will never know will like this". And like forgetting that's a possibility? Not in a "I dislike my art" but in a "people don't care about my art" way instead.

Though I could be so bold as to push that further and say I'm in a huge funk right now. A huge "people don't care about me" funk. And again, not because I think I'm a bad person or anything, it's like "I'm someone but no one cares and I just have to deal with that I guess". So I'm isolating in weird ways. Go through bouts of not talking to people or even my friends. And then have a moment where I feel like I can share Something and like ... whatever I'm hoping/expecting doesn't happen so I conclude that I need to shut up and mind my own business.

Occasionally we get to the "what's the point of anything, why am i even here (in this existence)?" but that means I'm tired and need to sleep.

I dunno, I am hoping and begging things will change once I have my own place and once I'm on fucking adhd meds lmfao. I'm so sick of this detached-from-everything state.

Also I've been hating doing any sort of venting anywhere so this is an impulse thing basically

#lordy blog

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thisismeracing · 3 months

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Haven’t looked at ur blog since sending the og anon about patreon so idk where all the other anons came from with this discourse which i cba reading btw so yeah….. but i just find it super weird and unorthodox to charge money for fanfiction ive been in fandom spaces for over a decade and never seen this 😭 also i wasn’t trying to shame u for needing money ?? I also find it really rude that ur moots are under that post saying if im broke just say so, i think thats far ruder and shaming me more than anything in that original ask lmao so yeah that felt like a bit of a double standard 👍

Hi, anon! Answering you a tad late because the other anons and their asks that you cba to read ended up taking a lot of my energy (not blaming you, just sharing the reason why it took me forever to answer).

I dunno which fandoms you're part of, but charging for fanfiction is no biggie in huge fandoms like chris evans, one direction, and so on. it's nothing new. It's not a thing in the f1 fandom because it's a mid-sized fandom IMO, but still you can find people with a patreon in here (I'm not the first one). If you had just searched the tags on Tumblr before sending me your first anon you would see.

It felt like you were judging, or pointing a finger, but since in messages you can't really understand the tone, I'm sorry (AGAIN) if my answer came across as rude. And since I don't have trouble recognizing when something got out of hand and I'm in the wrong, I'm sorry the messages of my moots seemed like an attack towards you or some kind of judgment on people who don't have money (bc I don't have it too, obviously), they were just trying to stand up for me after an ask that sounded rude and judgy. So it was rather a reaction, than an action if it makes any sense. Still, I'm sorry.

Hope you don't take it personally, but just adding, to try considering how your words can be received before sending an anon to people. I see lots of things I disagree with and personally don't like, but you won't see me going on anon and telling authors all of my thoughts. all of us are going through a lot of shit, the last thing we needed is someone sounding rude in our inbox <3

It seemed as if it was all a misunderstanding, so I'm glad to move past it. Hope you can do the same. And again: I'm sorry :)

#won't be talking about this subject anymore #but yeah #anon #millies inbox

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ladyazulina · 9 months

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August 10th

I'm surprised at the overwhelming amount of time that took me to post... one advance in my campaign.

Hours.

How horrendous.

If you don't know, I'm talking about this. I just posted this part and updated it on the page I made and I kind of don't want to do it again... At least not under today's emotions and circumstances. Because I love that page, it's beautiful. It just took time.

And talking about time... I'm starting to think that 4theWords isn't going to stick with me. I remembered I haven't gone there yet and I don't want to. It feels soooooo dragging. And that makes me sad, but it's no one's fault. I really like some of its dynamics, but I can't force myself every day to go there to keep it updated. It's draining.

I have other things to do.

So I'm going to kind of... abandon it until I really want to use it.

Or until I feel less stressed, I don't know.

So, today. I wasn't sure if I wanted to start promoting my being live on Twitch, but I did so anyway. Though it kind of seems... inconvenient, so I'm not sure how I will let you all know here that I'm on live if I'm attempting to go live Mon-Fri from 9am EDT to 3pm EDT.

Yeah, I started one hour 'late' today.

And I had to finish two hours 'early' also.

So when I finished, it didn't seem like... something, to come here to let you all know I finished. I doubt someone even noticed I was live, so why bother?

'Why bother?' is being an uncomfortable mood lately.

Worked in: AngelDemon. Words written: 1.590.

The difficulty is starting. I wasn't sure what really was going to happen in today's chapter. Had to look for a lot of future info because the chapters I should be using were already left behind in the new outline. Had to write a lot for a background event to know how is everyone doing about it now. It helped. It's also the majority part of that amount of words. Not really surprising, somehow.

I'm not really sure what that past me was trying to strike, it just seems a lot of nonsense and bullshit now.

Worked in: Twitch's Event - Second Hall of Fame in Discord Server. Words written: 324.

Yeah, today was my stream no.44, so according to my own rules of doing a check in every 22 streams to announce the MVP's Bingo Chasers and Bingo Slots (because yes, I have a Bingo Card in my streams) along with the 'First to arrive in stream' three places. It's fun to make, honestly, so... that was also something for today.

Total words: 1.914. Lower daily goal: 100 ✅ Higher daily goal: 300 ✅

I'm so, so tired. And I wanted to play a bit of Iron Valley... I guess I had enough of updating that part. I'm thinking about going to post it also on Wattpad and Inkspired, but I'm not completely sure yet. I was trying to set up a Ream account, but they're linked to Stripe and Stripe doesn't want my country yet. I have a Patreon, but... I hate the idea of marketing myself, that's why I deleted my Instagram.

Ugh, anyway. Stop talking now, yeah. That does seem like a great idea.

Tagging: @aziz-reads

#writing log #writers #writers on tumblr #writeblr #writing community #writing #writers of tumblr #writerscommunity #writer #writerblr #4thewords #accountability #someone hold me accountable #hold people accountable #keep me accountable #writing buddies #writing buddy

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littlekingbergara · 1 year

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Okay, I’m a bit confused… Maybe I missed something? But are people disliking the new show “Survival Mode” for some reason? Yes there are posts about it, but not as many as usual, and the notes count on these posts is quite low as well (for our fandom).

i haven't seen anyone who's been like disappointed or something like that. the people who like gaming videos seem to be enjoying it at least from what i'm seeing. i'm not really much of an Analytics Gal but i have a few ideas about why it's performing less well than other series.

first, it's a wednesday release. they haven't had regular wednesday releases since late 2020 when too many spirits season 1 came out and they stopped doing watcher weekly on the main channel. midweek releases tend to do worse than friday or weekend releases because a lot of regular people and non-fandom subscribers and casual viewers who probably aren't subscribed are less likely to be looking out for a new video on a wednesday.

second is it's a gaming series! it's something new for watcher except for the two videos they shot with ranboo at vidcon so they haven't built an audience in that space. idk how much of their regular audience is fans of gaming content (i'm not!) so people who don't watch every single video they post and aren't into gaming might just skip this series. especially if they haven't seen the trailer they might just think it's a one-off.

another minor thing is patreon didn't get early access which like. the 24 hours between early access and general uploading is when a lot of gif sets and posts are made to be posted later.

overall idk i'm enjoying it! i like to watch them do things so i'm having fun :)

#i think the first point goes for every channel not just watcher like. if you post outside of your regular schedule less people will see it.#i personally have not been posting about it very much bc i just haven't been on tumblr a ton since it dropped bc again. midweek. been worki #i think it was a good move for them to have it on wednesdays bc the gaming thing is kind of a gamble.#survival mode #anon #💌

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dominimoonbeam · 7 months

Text

Don't Run - 13

This work is mine and I do not give consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted without my permission. I am sharing chapters as I work on this story but it is copyrighted material that I plan to rework and publish when completed.

you can find the series from the start over on patreon.

story tags: mobsters, romance, explicit sex, explicit language, learning to trust, dark themes, bad childhood, arranged marriage, reference to past murder, kidnapping, danger, violence, guns

DON’T RUN - CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

The stranger beside her took off his mask, tossing it onto the floor. He was smiling just like she thought, but she didn’t recognize him.

“Why?” Freya asked, because it seemed like the only real question that mattered. Who cared who he was? Why was he doing something so stupid? She supposed it had to be money. It was always money. Was he going to ransom her aunt or her…husband?

Freya had never actually been abducted before. She’d never really left the family lands before, so there hadn’t been many opportunities even if anyone had thought it a good idea.

“Shut up,” the one in the front passenger seat shouted, waving the gun in her face like maybe she’d forgotten about it.

The car took another turn. They didn’t seem to be leaving the city.

The one sitting beside her pulled out his phone, took off one glove, and sent a message. He never stopped smiling. He was unhurried, putting his phone back into his jacket pocket and tugging his glove on once more before finally speaking. “It’s nothing personal.” He said it like it was a joke.

It didn’t feel funny.

Freya watched him, not the road and not the gun the other man was still pointing at her head. “You’re a professional.” It wasn’t a question.

He sat patiently in his seat, expectant, like he had done this a hundred times. “You’re my first Morgan,” he eventually said, making conversation.

“And your name is?”

He paused just long enough that she’d have to doubt any answer he gave. “Owen.”

The car darkened when they turned into a building. She couldn’t make out where they were. She didn’t know Everton well enough, but she was pretty sure they hadn’t left the city. Why not? Didn’t they need to hide someplace until they could get their ransom?

The car stopped.

“Get out,” the man in the front seat barked.

Freya hesitated.

The smiling man got out first.

The gun barrel thumped against her forehead, pushing her head to the side and toward the door. “Out, princess!”

Her door opened and the smiling man waited.

Freya stepped out, ditching her second heel inside the car. She was still sticky from orange juice and vodka. The concrete floor of the warehouse was dusty.

The smiling man started walking, hands in his jacket pockets, heading toward the door in the back of the warehouse.

She cast a look around. The driver got out and silently followed the gunman, the two taking turns pushing her forward whenever she failed to walk fast enough.

For some reason she’d been sure they were heading to some safehouse, but when the smiling man opened that door, daylight and wind spilled in.

She stepped through and stopped, blinking against sunlight at the docks. The wind was sharper here than it had been deep in the city.

Fear started to knot in her stomach for the first time.

“Why?” she asked again.

Owen turned his head to look at her. “You can’t be surprised… A union between your family and the Ellises isn’t really in all of our best interest.”

She forced a smile, toothy and fearless—even if that was a complete lie. “It’s kinda late for objections, isn’t it?” Freya lifted the hand with her ring and waggled it at him.

He moved fast, grabbing her before she could pull back and pressing his thumb hard into her palm. She tried to shove him off, but he grabbed the ring with his other hand and pulled it free. He let go of her with a shove, sending her back against the exterior wall of the warehouse.

Freya clutched her hand, grateful to have it back and more than a little terrified of just how certain she’d felt that he was going to take the whole finger. Who the hell was this guy?

He looked at the little trinket and for a second seemed about to hurl it toward the sea, but finally he snapped his hand around it and shoved it into his pocket.

He had worn a mask on the street in case of cameras, but he’d taken it off in the car. He didn’t care if she saw him.

“This isn’t a ransom, is it?”

He lifted an eyebrow when he turned to look at her this time, his smile still there. He dragged his gaze over her, frowning at her dress like he’d finally noticed what a mess she was today. “No.”

Freya pushed off the wall to stand straight. Her heart was slamming her ribs but she looked back at him. Was this really happening? “Why?” she asked again. Who the hell had sent this guy to kill her? Why her? “I can leave.”

He shook his head. “Not good enough.”

“They’ll think I ran anyway.”

“There were witnesses when we took you. They’ll look.” He shook his head, glancing around at the empty stretch of concrete behind the warehouse, before the steep staircase down to what looked like a viewpoint, old wood planks with waves sloshing up right below them. “This is Ellis property. It’ll take them a while to look here, but I figure they’ll find your body by sunrise.”

She tensed, her limbs aching to run. He meant it. Why… Her hands balled into fists. “Wait. Wait… You’re going to Princess Bride me?”

For the first time his smile wavered, his head turning to look at her again. “What?”

“Do I look like a Buttercup to you?”

One of the goons laughed a little and she thought at least he got it…

Owen did not. He didn’t frown but his smile almost flatlined.

“You’re going to kill me to start a war.”

His smile recovered and he started toward the steps.

Freya didn’t follow. She looked around, considering screaming before a big hand wrapped around the back of her neck, driving her forward to follow Owen down the steep stairs to the planks. It was a little dock, something old and left over from before the concrete was laid and the new warehouses built. The ocean was louder down there and the sea breeze bit at her skin.

“It won’t work,” she said over the ocean to his back. She kept the panic and the pleading out of her voice. It would only convince him she was lying sooner. Freya shrugged off the big guy and took another step closer to Owen and the sea. “The Ellises won’t care and my family will hunt you down.”

He had his hands in his pockets again and she wondered if he was still touching her ring. He turned and met her gaze. “Your family will think the Ellises killed you and Harmon will realize it. When they find your body, brutally beaten to death on their own docks, Harmon will do what he always does—he’ll lie. He’ll say you ran off, the way you tried to the other day. He’ll hide your corpse, maybe bury you in the woods near his cabin or sink you in the bay… Either way, I’ll be there to get pictures of the cover up. Your aunt might not care much about you, but I don’t think she’ll be able to ignore that offense, do you?”

Freya swallowed hard, unable to stop herself from shaking as the cold and the fear drove deep into her bones. It had bene hard to focus after the part about how he planned to have her beaten to death, but she got the gist. And damn it, he was probably right.

The boards creaked behind her under the two goons. Suddenly they made sense.

She pretended not to notice them—to have forgotten them and their purpose. She pushed her chin high and took another step toward Owen, away from the other two. “Why not a bullet?”

His smile twisted, amusement reading his dark eyes. “Sorry, Buttercup, but the boss wanted to make it ugly. Too ugly to hide. Too ugly to forget. You understand. I’ll tell them to be quick about it though.”

Her breath shivered out of her, her teeth chattering. Adrenaline.

The waves sloshed under the dock, the wood creaking.

She dragged a deep breath, letting it shake, not fighting it anymore. Tears gathered in her eyes and she looked out at the sea. Dropping her shoulders in quiet resignation, she slid her hands into the deep pockets of her skirt. A few stray tears slid down her cheeks.

Owen nodded in understanding and stepped closer. On his way past her, he stopped to settle a gloved hand on her shoulder in mock comfort. “Sorry, kid,” the smiling man said.

Kid.

They were the same age!

She turned into his touch, fast with no shoes on, and slid right up against his back. The knife she pulled from her pocket opened and locked with a tiny snickt, too quiet to be heard over the ocean but she felt it in her palm. She had her arms around him like a lover, one palm flat to his chest to hold him back against hers and the other around his collar, that blade already several layers deep in his neck and pressing toward his aorta.

He reached for his side-holster in the same second.

“Touch that gun and I will open you up,” she snarled in his ear, her back to the ocean and his front to the surprised goons. “I’m a dead girl anyway, right? I might as well take you with me.”

He didn’t touch his gun but he didn’t lower his hand yet either. Was he weighing her words? Searching for weakness? Oh, Freya was full of weakness, but none that would keep her from killing him.

“I have a bitter heart,” she explained, suddenly more honest with this man than she’d been with anyone in her whole life. It didn’t matter when one or both of them was going to die, did it? “It runs in my blood. I’d rather kill you than let you leave me here.”

He moved his hand away from the gun, holding both of them in front of himself. “You’re making this worse than it has to be.”

“I don’t think so. I think you showed up late to a game and thought you were going to take an easy win. I think you made a big fucking mistake, Owen.” She took steps back, pulling him with her, enjoying the pained hiss of his breath when her knife dug deeper.

She moved her other hand down his chest and across his abdomen. His little gasp suggested he was scandalized. She grabbed the gun from his hip and aimed at the thugs. They bolted for the stairs and she fired after them. Of course he hadn’t had the safety on. She shot one of them in the leg and he crawled up those concrete steps and out of sight.

“What now, Buttercup?” he ground out and she was pretty sure he wasn’t fucking smiling now. “Even if you kill me, they’re just going to get you when you make a run for it. And our deal about me telling them to make it quick is definitely off. I think I’ll tell them to have their fun with you… make it last.”

She took another step back with him, her heels finding the edge of the dock. Freya smiled against the back of his collar, her knife-hand wet and warm where his blood was dripping down the blade. “I’m starting to think you don’t do your own work… Maybe I should call you Vizzini.”

He hissed. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about, but the only smart thing for you to do now is to shoot yourself in the head.”

Freya shivered, hating how true that felt and not willing to acknowledge the little relief in her chest at the idea. No. NO. She had fought too hard her whole life to stay alive. She wasn’t going out until they dragged her to that grave in the woods!

The waves sloshed and sprayed the backs of her legs.

“Just do it,” he whispered, breathy and right there with her on the edge. “End it. If you don’t—”

“Someone told me that I need friends and my aunt always said… don’t waste someone that might be useful later.” She twisted the knife, the point nicking lines behind his ear. She leaned up onto her toes to get her mouth even closer. “You better be useful to me next time I see you, Vizzini, or I will finish you.”

She let him go, taking the knife away from his throat and just as he tried to turn around—to shove her or get away from her—she stabbed him in the side. Quick. In and out, before the blade retracted with a snickt and she fell off the dock into the sea.

The ocean was a lot different than the river that cut through her family’s property. It pushed where the river had pulled. It tried to bury her where the river had tried to roll her. But the only thing to do, the only thing there had ever been to do, was to push on until she reached land again.

Adi was in his office when he got the call.

Wells sounded upset, which was to say she sounded slightly rushed in her report. Men outside the restaurant had taken Freya in broad daylight. Over in a matter of seconds.

Gone.

There was a stretch of silence after her words where she waited for him to say something—to tell her what to do or to tell her that it would be handled?

What if he didn’t handle it?

What if it was just a trick? She could be trying a new tactic for running away. Make it look like a kidnapping this time? Fake her own death?

Was the treaty with the Morgans off if he was a widower before the wedding party?

He hated himself the moment he thought it.

“Fuck,” Adi exhaled and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Okay. I’ll make some calls.”

He sat there for another second, staring at his phone.

He could call any number of fixers, pass on the problem, and say that he’d done what he could. But he’d know that he hadn’t…and Ezra would know.

He called Grayson.

Molly answered his phone. “Are you okay?” she asked in that deadpan tone that said she didn’t care but Grayson would so she had to ask.

“Where is he?” Adi asked back, rising from his chair and grabbing his jacket on his way to the door.

“Shower.”

Once again, he had no idea what his brother’s relationship to that particular thug was. He heard her sigh and walk, the sound of the shower suddenly present on her end of the line. “What?” Grayson’s voice, muffled by water and distance.

Adi stepped onto his private elevator and hit the button for the basement garage.

“Yeah?” Grayson answered his phone at last.

“It seems my wife has been abducted.”

“Where?” Grayson asked, calm but cold now, shuffling around on the other end as he presumably got dressed.

“Richards Avenue, outside the May Bell. About ten minutes ago.”

“Has anyone called about a ransom?”

Adi winced, remembering his brother’s personal experience with kidnappings. He should have thought about that before. He shouldn’t have called him…

“Adi?” Grayson’s voice broke through the self-deprecating anger building in his chest. “Ransom demands?”

“No. Nothing that I know of.”

“Any idea who took her?”

“No. Wells was there and saw it happen but she didn’t know who they were.”

He heard keys on the other end. “Have you called the old man yet?”

“No. You were my first call.”

There was the slightest pause before his brother said, “Okay. I’ll make some calls and see what I can find. If you get a ransom call, agree to it, and then call me back.”

Adi nodded, watching the floors climb downward. “Okay.”

Grayson hung up first.

Adi looked at his phone and knew who he had to call next. He hit the first number on his phone, his emergency contact.

Ezra answered after a couple rings, a smile on his voice.

The memory of the last time he saw Freya flashed before his mind’s eye. She was on the balcony in a ratty shirt, sneaking a cigarette and casting a look back at him like she might have shared if he had asked.

“She’s gone,” he said and then curled his lip, teeth wanting to bite at the words because they weren’t right. “Someone took her.”

#don't run #mobster trio #mobster romance #adi/ezra/freya #honest liars series #romance #it's complicated #violence #guns #blood #kidnapping #clover down #dominimoonbeam #own work #<3

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literaticat · 10 months

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Hi Jenn - Two quick ones: 1- It feels criminal to receive your amazing advice …for free. What can we do for you?Joining the Patreon for the LiteratiCast, is a given. What else. Post a review on Apple podcasts? Review your clients’ books? What would be most helpful? 2-If an agent offers rep, I know you can share that news with agents you’ve already queried, but assume it’s too late to send a new query to“your dream” and/or any other agent with the offer info and see if they’re interested, right?

-- As for point one, that's very sweet of you. I'm on a break from the podcast for the moment (but of course if you enjoy it by all means review) -- but really it's ALWAYS appreciated if you want to read and boost my client's books! I update my website often with new releases (and you can scroll back, too) -- go and check them out and see if there are any that catch your fancy. Buy them or request them at your library! If you love them, write a review or talk them up to somebody! YAY BOOKS!

-- As for point two: If you get an offer, it's absolutely expected for you to alert everyone else who you have a query out with (whether they have asked for the full or not). To me, it's a little awkward to then go to NEW agents that you never queried. (We call that "shopping an offer" and it's not my fav.) Why? Well, because you are either giving that person less time than everyone else had, OR, you are stringing the person who offered along and making them wait while you look for "greener pastures."

(If you don't like the offer you got, you can't see yourself working with that agent, whatever -- just say no to them, don't leave them hanging there while you play around trying to hook a bigger fish. If you DO like the offer you got -- uh how many great offers do you NEED exactly?)

If somebody comes to me and says, "I already have an offer, but you're my dream agent, and I really want you to look as well" -- I'd wonder to myself, well if you like me so much why didn't you query me in the first place -- and while I quite likely *would* take a look, I'd also probably bow out, because unless this seems like *completely* up my alley and unmissable, I'm not going to be able to drop everything and read immediately.

(A lot of people KNOW that agents don't like it when people shop an offer, so in recent years there's been a trend where people pretend like they just started querying, and then like, 24 hours later, they say "oops, wow, I have an offer!" -- again, I'd probably just bow out, personally, but hey. No idea who is giving this advice but it's not my fav, either!)

TL; DR -- For sure alert everyone you queried. If you REALLY FEEL STRONGLY that so-and-so REALLY should see this and you are just kicking yourself you didn't query them in the first place -- by all means try! But please just be straightforward, and be prepared for the fact that they might not want to or be able to jump at it.

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lilypixels · 2 years

Text

I’ve been doing thinking on all this (which maybe I shouldn’t lol) and I’m gonna say some things that hopefully don’t get skewed somehow or anything....maybe I shouldn’t say anything at all but again just speaking thoughts

putting under a read more cause idk how long this'll get and I'm sure everyone's tired of this already

ok so I've never totally been against early access, let me preface by saying this. In fact, I can understand people trying to just make some money due to varying circumstances; I’m sure many of us could use more money honestly. I think early access and just simple donations are almost the same too (with one having a little more incentive sure but at the end of day, the content is still got?) so I can’t quite wrap my head around why it seems to be such a big deal to get rid of and switch to donation only

also, again I can understand wanting to earn some extra money for things you do or put time into, but I also think it’s a bit ummm strange? funny? to make creating content for a game your “job”. This game could literally be gone at a moments notice, and you thought the smart business plan was to base your livelihood on it?? idk maybe not the smartest move, especially if that's all you do

Further still, making a hobby based community built around pixels profitable...what kind of capitalist bs honestly. we’re all supposed to just be here to have fun and share what happens to our silly pixels, to show off our pixel dolls, it was never meant to be monetized y’know?? While I may not be “active” in some other gaming communities, what I do know is I’ve never seen this same thing happen in them and to such extent. I use mods for skyrim, fallout, and dai and never once have I seen someone make people to pay for them. nexusmods has a wholeeeee host of mods for many games: all free. And those modders can do a whole heck of a lot more than some do here for sims (not discounting sims creators and their work but like skyrim for example has mods like falskaar and beyond skyrim bruma that add literal new worlds populated with new characters and quest and its all, you guessed it, free) so idk why the sims community is the one that can’t seem to do the same. is it because it’s easier to mod? accessible to more people? maybe its due to the foundations its built upon with EA itself and a lackluster game? who knows, but the fact remains that it seems to be a problem only here....which is funny too cause I thought we were supposed to be the more community based one, the one that's supposed to be one of the biggest on tumblr, the one that supports each other and enjoy dressing up our pixel dolls....sad to see that this continues to not be the case, but maybe we can get that sense of community back yet

and no, I'm not saying that one era of simblr was necessarily better than the other, there has always been problems. there has, however, been a huge surge lately in people flocking here just to make money off creations for this game, or heck conversions they don't even own. does anyone actually enjoy playing anymore? is everyone here just to profit? do some of these creators actually play at all?? I'm inclined to think not

as I wrap this post up, I think back to who I've subbed to on patreon: a whole four creators in my time. most all were cause they offered exclusives, but no doubt I loved their content, otherwise I'd have no reason to pay. I’m only currently subbed to one though (1 I didn't really use content of anymore, 1 never sent me anything so rip, the other upped prices and I couldn't justify the costs as a student). honestly, I really love this one persons creations and wouldn't mind donating if they switched to it; I was already paying money in the first place for it. sure, maybe I wouldn't pay every month, but I could do it every other month maybe. and yet, here I am having to wonder whether they will stay at all, even though they could very well keep making some money if they did.

#...yeah #i think thats it lol #not fully proofreading either so hopefully its all good sakhd #just some of my few cents #cause i keep seeing more things and just trying to wrap my head around it all #again too #i can see all sides and where people are coming from #this is just some of my thoughts based off some of what ive seen and read #that is all #aaaa hopefully this makes sense #txt post #delete later #probably #im a reasonable person and open for discussion on any of this if people feel need to #but like be nice pls #true discussions can only happen when emotions are removed from the equation

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blueheavensims · 2 years

Text

Check-in tag

I was tagged by @gphoenixsims.! Thank you kindly.

• Why did you choose your url?

So, way way back in the late ‘00s, I was still on Sim Trek 2 Boldy Go (RIP), and creating my first Sims 2 Story, Blue Heaven Sims. I wanted to extract a few of the Sims to share, and so I made a new home for them, originally a Blogspot blog called Blue Heaven Sims. It seemed appropriate, and as I created more, unrelated content and Sim Trek 2 was soon shuttered, I needed a home for it all. The name had what the kids these days call “brand recognition”, and since it wasn’t broke, I didn’t fix it. I created a tumblr account for personal stuff I think around 2014, but never used it (this is my primary) and created the secondary account to promote my work and that of other Sims 2 creators.

• How long have you been on tumblr?

Since August of 2018. I came to the party late. Right before the Tumblrpocalapyse, in fact.

• Do you have a queue tag?

No.

• Why did you start your blog in the first place?

More visibility. I try to keep an eye on which types of the content I create are popular, which get more downloads, and so on. Publishing updates on Sims Cave wasn’t really pulling in the new visits to my blogs, so decided to try this new site that all the kids were talking about.

• Why did you choose your icon/pfp?

It’s me chilling with Ophelia, my tortoiseshell goddess.

• Why did you choose your header?

I didn’t.

• What’s your post with the most notes?

I had to research it, because my memory’s a bit cloudy. It’s the Comfort Me Too posebox, with 148 notes. The note thing can be super deceptive, honestly. Typically, my original creations garner around 20-30 notes, whereas derivative content (bodyshape conversions of other creators’ outfits, reposes of janky poseboxes, etc.) tend to do much better. The vast majority of my content is niche, typically made for one specific genre of game (the Midnight at… series, Combate Moderno, Merrie Minstrels, Barbarians at the Gate, etc.) whereas the content that seems to be really popular is 4t2 clothing conversions and Maxis Match hair recolors where one creator’s post is almost indistinguishable from the next.

• How many mutuals do you have?

Probably fewer than I should, honestly. I have a few people who I engage with frequently and I care a great deal for; they know who they are.

• How many followers do you have?

600 and some change. Tumblr nerfed a bunch of bot and inactive followers recently, but I’m slowly approaching 650 again.

• How many people do you follow?

251. I only follow Sims 2 blogs.

• Have you ever made a shitpost?

No.

• How often do you use tumblr each day?

I check it a few times a day. I post content 2-4 times a week, and occasionally make reply posts, comment on friends’ posts or rant.

• Did you have a fight/argument with another blog once? who won?

A few. I have a reputation (deserved or not) of not putting up with anyone else’s bullshit. I had, not exactly a fight, but a disagreement with MDP a while ago. I don’t remember exactly what it was about. Probably not of very much consequence. There was the time I stood up for Nobe (devotedlyghostlyenemy) when someone called her a bunch of names for converting a teen crop top to for children. Yes, there are still people like that on tumblr.

I have a PM of telling Klira to pound sand after she PM’d me to ask me not to remake her janky poseboxes. I have the screenshot saved to my desktop.

I had a funny exchange with the “underwear anon” a few months back; I’m pretty sure that I got the better end of that one.

I’ve jumped into a couple of pissing matches about Patreon content creators for TS2 having their content redistributed and that Brazilian site that was redistributing free content, I had a few things to say during the discussion about Cindy/PleasantSims’ Discord, and I’ve called out a few people who were bullying other creators.

But Tumblr is the tip of the iceberg. I’ve been active in the community (not just tumblr) for 15 years now, and for better or worse I’ve interacted with a lot of people. For a complete history of me not putting up with other peoples’ bullshit, THIS post is worth reading (sorry; it hasn’t been updated with the latest crap about the Sims Crafters Discord yet: I’m working on it).

• How do you feel about ‘you need to reblog this’ posts?

The only correct answer is “No the fuck I don’t.”

• Do you like tag games?

Yeah. It depends on the tag game, really, but most of the time they’re fun and I’m happy when my friends tag me.

• Do you like ask games?

Yes. I don’t get a whole lot of asks, but I’m happy to respond when I receive them.

• Which of your mutuals do you think is tumblr famous?

I try not to compare my work to the “big names”; obviously they’ve been here longer, create more mainstream content, and have much more ample follower bases. Without access to the follower counts of every single mutual I have, I’d be hard-pressed to provide a response.

• Do you have a crush on a mutual?

I’m a boring old married person. I don’t have crushes.

Tagging: I think most of the folks I follow have already gone. Ummm… @nixedsims, @criminalmiik, @iamg-knee maybe? If it’s not your thing, I’ll happily fuck off.

#replies #smeg

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talenlee · 4 months

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Decemberween 2023 — Nixie IV

Hey, you know Nixie right? I talk about her about once a year, it seems. You know, the one who likes planes. The one who likes guns. The one who watches anime and recommends I check some out. The one who contributed to my Air America article, the one who contributed to the Nicolas Cage Month Con Air article, and the one who has gotten an article multiple Decemberweens in a row now.

It’s not just because I get to use pictures from Ascendance of a Bookworm because they remind me of her.

Anyway, this year, Nixie went to China and became a pirate.

It’s been a year of the social media collapse. Twitter, the place where Nixie and I first found each other, has gone from being a sort of expected ongoing failure everyone participated in to a website that literally pays Nazis for pissing people off, and I was one of those lucky enough to be in a position to easily rip off that particular bandage and extract myself from the place. As far as I know, Nixie hasn’t.

I don’t know.

Nixie has two frontends for making things on the internet, as far as I understand it. She produces stuff on Patreon, and she makes long, long, long threads on twitter. Archiving that twitter is itself a fundamentally challenge thing because like, it’s a thing that needs a specific skill to derive it and another skill to know how to store it for access. And even then you’re not going to rely on people paying attention to what you’re saying, right? The thing Twitter had going for it was that it was a subscription service to Me that everyone could run, which meant that while you may be mixing up a potpourri of whatever immediate concerns or interests you had, the whole space was still a place you could put stuff and that stuff was in a place where other people willingly and openly checked on the regular.

Losing that is a real problem, and it means that I can’t readily point you to just ‘hey, here’s what Nixie’s been up to this year.’ I don’t have it in me to put that all together and I do run a blog where I can put together a bunch of information. Hell, you’re four hundred odd words into this post and it’s just all about how as awful as it is to admit it, I owe Twitter for introducing me to Nixie, and even if I don’t need it to talk to her now, I know that its loss creates a void for Nixie and it’s one she hasn’t yet done anything to address.

I can’t fix that.

I can’t apologise for that, either. I don’t feel bad about using Twitter when I did because, like, it got Nixie into my life and Nixie is a wonderful delight. Even though I know before the point where Twitter sucked complete shit, it still sucked pretty bad and was responsible for a lot of bad things. None of those things are in my grasp.

So I’m just gunna tell you a story.

I’m at the bus stop. It’s a grocery day. I’ve mapped my time properly, but it’s the weekend for me, a Saturday morning. DST hasn’t kicked in yet here or there. I know I’m shaving times a little here. I had to check a few more stores than I normally would and that was frustrating. I mean, it’s the bus, I know the bus is going to happen on its own timing, and this being a weekend, it might be a little late. But that little bit late can create elasticity; there are just fewer buses on the weekend, and that means if something holds one up a bit, then it might take ages for it to catch up.

I could walk home.

It’s not that far.

But if I start on walking home, and I’m not right about that, and this trolley slows me down then I’m going to make the wrong choice and how much am I overly worried about what I’m doing? Why am I so worried about this?

Because I don’t want to miss her recital.

Nixie is getting ready to perform, in a choir, in front of dozens of people. It’s not her first. It’s not going to be her last – at this point, Nixie and I know full well that she wants to do more of this. She loves the recitals, she loves choir, even considering the complications and the challenges getting to go.

And so.

The bus arrives.

I get home in time.

I start the livestream so I can watch my friend performing with her choir, songs I don’t know from cultures I don’t understand and expressing ideas I can’t tell. I have to set up software to record the video, so I can capture her moments. I watch her file into place, I look for her in the big crowd of people, and zoom in and realise what I’m doing. Like, I didn’t grow up in a place with recitals per se. There were one of two but they were like the really privileged kids of architects or something like that in the church. They’d set up basically a unique event for their kid who’d play some piano and we’d all clap and I have no idea why I was there. But that was also the family that could afford a camcorder, and where I could see someone proud of someone they loved, reaching out and trying to make sure that they were there for this moment, they were there to encode and preserve this memory.

Nixie has spent this year learning Chinese, getting another name (ask her about her Chinese name, it’s sick as hell), and learning to sail. She has escaped the internet we know to Touch Grass, and in so doing she has learned more, seen more, and embraced more. She told me about how great the food was in China, about how the exercise excited her, and about how the Great Wall smells. I am not there but I am present, because Nixie has taken her memories, and her stories, and spread them before me to share.

I couldn’t be more proud of her and I want to be there to help encode more and more of those memories.

Sigh. SIGH. GRUMBLE even. Hey, I wrote about how it’s hard to link Nixie’s work? Well, she did that after I wrote this article so here’s a link and anything else that makes no sense in the above is because of that.

Check it out on PRESS.exe to see it with images and links!

#Decemberween 2023 #Diary

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storytimewriting · 5 months

Text

Wasted Potential

Here's a fun little story time for tonight! This one actually connects to another piece I wrote, Weight of the Universe, but it can be read on it's own as a stand-alone piece. If you do like this one, give the other one a read too!

This short story is vaguely inspired by a good friend of mine. I know she struggled a bit in the past, but she's doing fantastic now, and I absolutely adore that for her.

When people are young, emotions can be overwhelming. Asking for help can feel so far out of reach, it's almost easier to struggle in silence. I know a lot of people have dealt with this, and I hope you know it is so important to ask for help. No one is truly alone.

This is quite a sad piece that alludes to some dark undertones, so be cautious in your reading. (Specifically, if you have struggled with self-harm, please take caution in your reading.)

Also, this piece, as well as others, are posted first on my Patreon! Subscribers to my Patreon are given first access to all my writing, as well as special access to exclusive pieces! Here's the link:

I appreciate you supporting my writing journey.

I hope you like this piece! Let me know what you think.

If you do like it, here's the link to it's sister story:

Weight of the Universe

(word count: about 3.1k)

Enjoy :)

xx gwen <3

________

Wasted Potential

Even the sun falls daily. I think we get so used to the light the sun brings to us that we forget she’s surrounded by darkness. It’s not a bad thing- to be surrounded by darkness. The contrast of light and dark often creates the most beautiful images. Sunshine to shadow, the moon against the night sky- their balance brings peace to these moments. Without a bit of darkness, surely the sun would burn out.

I found my balance when I was young. I had always been good at making friends. That’s why I wasn’t nervous about moving to a new town as a kid. I was used to people liking me: parents, teachers, friends. When I walked through the door and saw a girl who looked like she wanted nothing to do with me, I knew I had to befriend her.

It didn’t take long for us to grow close. We worked well together: when I was loud she was quiet, when I talked she listened, when I laughed she laughed with me.

She spent hours at my house every day. I always preferred my home when she was there. My house was usually way too quiet, and she helped fill it with noise. She brought laughter and conversation, and when she left, the house reverted back to the silence.

Lilith always told me she had to be home before the street lights turned on. One time, we lost track of time when we were playing and she ended up leaving after dark. When I saw her the next day, she looked hurt and defeated. I remember thinking her house was haunted as a child. It made sense to me: the monsters came out after dark. After that, I never let her stay late at my house again.

It wasn’t until I got a bit older that I realized what was actually happening to Lilith. It was never something she told me herself. I think she thought she could hide it, but I always noticed the marks she tried so hard to cover. Her eyes didn’t seem to shine the same after particularly rough nights. I always tried to get her to talk to me- to let me help her- but she refused. I never wanted to be another reason she was upset, so I would let it go. I just did my best to make her happy when she was away from the hurt.

I was used to everything coming easy to me: getting good grades, making friends, fitting in. It wasn’t until I got older that I had to start trying a bit harder. I remember coming home, proud of myself for getting an A on a test, and my parents would ask me what part I didn’t understand. If I wasn’t getting 100%, there was obviously something I wasn’t understanding. Technically, it was true. If I wasn’t perfect, there was always something I could be doing better.

I wanted to impress my parents. I wanted them to be proud of me. I was sure to get A’s in all my classes, befriend everyone around me, and be the best at everything I did. I never had a casual hobby; if I did something, I did it well. However, my parents were so busy with their successes and endeavors, it was hard to be impressed by a child’s.

Lilith was always impressed with me. She was my favorite person to be around because she made me feel important. She was smart and strong and beautiful in a way I never was. She understood the parts of life most people were afraid to. She captured the beauty and serenity of the darkness, like the comfort of a rainy day. She always seemed to persevere no matter the intensity of the storm. I wished so deeply I had even a fraction of her resilience.

I wish I could express the adoration I held for her. Though, she never seemed to like compliments very much. Actually, she never cared to hear what anyone had to say of her. She was confident- sure of herself in a way I longed to be. Her sense of self was not built from the perception others held of her.

Boys started to show me attention when I got older. It was around the same time Lilith started to pull away from me. I tried to fight her on it. I would follow her around, talk to her more, ask her questions about things I knew she liked to talk about. I should’ve taken the hint that she no longer wanted to be around me. Instead, I made her spell it out for me.

“Stop following me, Aurora. I told you I just want to be left alone.”

“I don’t understand what I did,” I whined. I wasn’t used to people not liking me, especially my best friend.

“You’re just you,” she waved her arms at me. “You get everything you want and you never even have to try. You’re perfect,” she spat the word at me like poison on her tongue. “The universe revolves around you like you’re the fucking sun. But I’m done getting burnt. I’m done.”

I listened to her that time. I left her alone.

I always feared failing to live up to the expectations people held for me. Perfection was everything I’d always strived for. I’d never heard the word spoken with such disdain before. The pedestal I had placed the idea on collapsed, and I was lost.

My house was particularly quiet that day I came home from school. It wasn’t like there was ever anyone waiting to greet me when I walked through the front door, but there was usually someone walking through with me.

I had friends beside Lilith, but none of them felt as deep or as real to me. I spent the first few days following our fight by myself. I would see her sitting alone in the shadows, and I wanted to talk to her. I wanted to convince her that she was wrong about me- I wasn’t perfect, no matter how hard I tried to pretend. I wanted to tell her everything I wanted that was always too far out of reach. I wanted her to know I never meant to hurt her or disappoint her. But she never even glanced my way, and the words never left my lips.

The words echoed in my head: from her, my parents, myself. It was silent in my house but the noise inside my head was deafening. I burned everyone I touched no matter how hard I tried to protect them. I disappointed everyone. It never mattered what I did or how well I did it, I was destined to fail. I felt hopeless. Thoughts of perfection and imperfection had been shattered, and there was nothing left for me to hold onto besides the broken pieces. I held on so tight the shards tore my skin. Crimson dripped from my fingertips to the bathroom tile, staining the white floor red.

It was peaceful at first. There was a sense of satisfaction in ruining my once untouched and perfect skin. It felt like defiance. I was tearing away from the expectations that surrounded me by tearing myself from my own skin. It felt like a way to escape myself.

The pattern repeated for the next few days, but it didn’t take long for the satisfaction to end. The noise was still loud in my head. The marks that lingered on my skin only served as a reminder of all the broken pieces I couldn’t put back together. I held so much regret, embarrassed of the skin I was trapped in.

Long sleeves covered my body when I went to school. It only took a few days for my other friends to start hanging around me again. I let them. I was so alone in every other aspect of my life, I didn’t want to be alone at school, too. I painted on fake smiles and laughs, and I wondered if anyone could tell. No one seemed to question it. People will believe what they want.

I still searched for Lilith in the crowd, but I could tell she wanted nothing to do with me. The person who knew me better than anyone else was now a complete stranger to me. Every day she refused to meet my eyes hurt worse than the last. I forced myself to stop looking for her. As much as I wanted to join her in the shade, I forced myself to endure the heat of the sun without her.

Every day I got home, I tried to distract myself. I tried to talk to my parents but they were always too busy to listen. I tried to listen to music, to write- I tried everything to block out the silence of the world around me and the noise inside my head but nothing seemed to work. I think my brain was broken. The voices in my head screamed at me, begging to be released, and there was only one way I knew how to release them.

The high of the release was always short-lived. Relief was quickly replaced with shame. My hands would shake and my legs were too weak to stand on, so I would stay sitting on the bathroom floor in a pool of crimson tinted tears. I cursed the universe for cursing me, but there was no one I could truly blame but myself. Expectations may have been placed on me by others, but I was the one desperate to uphold them. So obsessed with everything I could have possibly been, I turned into nothing more than wasted potential.

Weeks seemed to blend together in my head. I spent day after day longing for the person I used to be, but I wasn’t even sure who I was anymore. My grades were slowly dropping. I found it difficult to care about being perfect now that I knew it was never going to be achievable for me. Some of my teachers questioned the change, but I know they didn’t really care. They just missed when I was the perfect student they never needed to worry about.

The sun felt more brutal than ever. It beat down on the world, hard and unforgiving. It felt like being scorched as soon as you left the serenity of the shade. I imagine this is how it felt to be friends with me: unbearable heat.

Unknowingly, I pulled up the bottom on my sleeves to try to find relief from the heat. Covering my body had become second-nature, I didn’t realize I was exposing how broken I had been recently. Immediately, my teacher noticed, sending me to the office without hesitation. She refused to hear any explanation I could come up with. Instead, I was met with lectures and threats of being sent away. They told me I could be sent to a facility where I would get help, but I refused to be trapped in a place where I couldn’t escape the silence.

I begged and pleaded, but no one would hear me out. Voices spoke over my own, discussing everything they thought I needed. They told me they were going to have to call my parents. My greatest secret and shame was being thrown about the room as though it were something to publicize. It felt as though they had put up a billboard of my face with the word “failure” painted across it. I knew I was nothing but wasted potential, but it was devastating watching the world around me realize the truth I tried so hard to keep hidden.

I got home before my parents got the call. I knew I needed to leave before they found out the failure I had become. They would be even more disappointed in me than they already were, and I couldn’t handle any more shame.

I packed a bag quickly and left my house. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. I found myself waiting outside Lilith’s window as the sun went down, but I couldn’t bring myself to knock. She had grown tired of me long ago, and it wasn’t fair for me to rely on her to stop the burning. Especially when she always got burnt in the process.

It was easy to see I had no place in this town. With the sun no longer in the sky, I felt like I could finally breathe. I needed to go to a place where no one knew me; a place where there were no expectations for me to fail to reach; a place where no one knew of the pain I was destined to cause.

When I finally made it to the bus stop, a figure sat alone in the dark.

“Lilith?” It was the first time I had spoken to her in weeks. “What are you doing here?” I hoped she couldn’t hear how broken I had become in my voice.

I could see the tear streaks on her cheeks. It wasn’t something I was used to seeing. She was always so strong, even when she was beaten down. Tentatively, I moved closer. Her mouth opened, but only a sob escaped her. My arms were shaking when I wrapped them around her, fearful of being faced with her rejection again. She let me hold her, leaning her body closer to mine.

When she spoke, only words of desperation left her lips. She sounded broken, convinced the only way she was going to live was if she left her current life. I knew what she was speaking of. I knew the ghosts that haunted her in the night. I knew what it was to feel alone. I knew exactly how she felt because I felt the same.

I wanted to burn the world down to allow us both a fresh start, but I knew it wasn’t possible. Instead, I let myself be there for her. I comforted her with all the words I wanted said to me. I listened in the way I always wished someone would hear me. I held her in the way I was desperate to be held. I took care of her in the way I wanted someone to care for me. I hoped she felt less alone.

Neither one of us ever got on that bus. Instead, I walked her home and promised her a safe haven in mine. Before I could walk away, she grabbed my wrist over my sleeve.

“I’m sorry, Aurora- about what I said that day. I didn’t mean it.” She didn’t let go of my wrist. I tried not to show discomfort. Instead, I gave a soft smile, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. “I mean, I do think you’re perfect, but you never hurt me.”

“I’m not perfect, Lilith,” I tried to laugh it off, but the sound that escaped me was sad.

She frowned. “Of course you are,” she argued. “You’re smart and beautiful and-“

“I’m not perfect!” I shouted. I was angry and I couldn’t hide it anymore.

Her eyes widened in surprise. She had never seen me angry before- not enough to yell. I would never even argue with anyone, and now I was yelling at my best friend. Her grip on my wrist loosened, but when I went to pull away, she grabbed me with her other hand. I didn’t even know why I was fighting with her. I was just so upset and so tired of hearing that tainted word. In the midst of the chaos, her fingers slipped under my sleeve and we both froze.

“Aurora,” she looked at me so sadly. I could see a million thoughts racing through her head at once. I tried to rack my brain for an excuse but there was nothing I could come up with. “Why?” Her voice cracked.

“I didn’t mean to,” I cried. I was supposed to be the strong one this time, but now she knew that I was broken too. “I just wanted relief. I just needed a second to breathe. I’ve never felt so lost before and now I don’t know what to do.” I knew I was rambling, but I couldn’t stop myself. She cracked the dam I hid behind, and now everything was flooding out. The feelings of loneliness, helplessness, being lost and confused, not knowing what to do- everything came pouring out.

It was her who held me this time. “I think you need help, Aurora,” she spoke softly as she held my head. I could feel her tears drip on my skin. I missed her.

I had never known what it was to struggle. I had never needed to ask for help before, and now that I did, I didn’t even know where to start. The words were so unfamiliar on my tongue, I wasn’t sure I knew how to speak them.

Still, it was almost a relief that Lilith knew how broken I was. It was like shattering the last perception the world had of me. I could no longer pretend I was perfect. I could no longer pretend I was okay on my own. There was no one left to convince.

We sat on her front porch until we both had stopped crying. We knew we couldn’t stay there forever. Though, it was nice to feel the moon watching over the two of us again. I made her promise me she would come to my house if anything happened. She made me promise I would tell my parents once I got home. We both knew we wouldn’t break a promise to each other.

I was almost positive my parents already knew. They probably heard the message of my problem as soon as they got home. My shoes scrapped against the concrete as I walked home. I rehearsed my lines again and again, trying to come up with the perfect explanation for my parents. I didn’t want them to be disappointed in me. I was dreading having to walk through the front door.

When I walked through the doorway, my parents were waiting for me. They sat together on the couch, but stood as soon as they saw me. It felt like they had seen me for the first time in years. Devastation was painted on their faces, and I searched my brain for the lines I had been rehearsing the whole way here, but I couldn’t seem to find any. My mouth opened and closed as tears welled up in my eyes, but only three words left my lips.

“I need help.”

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jefelen-presents · 7 months

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"Murdercise" (2023)

Friday, October 13th, 2023 (13:31) JEFELEN has been left feeling all bent out of shape by the world of late... so when the opportunity arose to sign up with A & P Productions™ as a Co-Executive Producer on their latest cinematic exercise, there was really no choice but to turn up the heat and feel the burn, as it were! Co-written and directed by Angie De Alba and Paul Ragsdale, "Murdercise" is a darkly-comedic horror outing which really lends weight to the classic training idiom, "no pain, no gain"...

Phoebe is an unassuming fitness enthusiast who discovers her true calling after being ridiculed by her shallow co-stars on the set of a risqué workout video. A chance encounter with Isabella, a Mafia princess wild child, leads Phoebe down a twisted path of self-discovery as she learns the brutal art of eliminating the competition in order to claim her spot at the top.

The movie was actually released back on July 8th, truth be told, but I felt it best to hold off until today, Friday the 13th (wOoOoOoOoOh!) to publicise this eighty-three minute killer workout, which is available to either rent or purchase through the following electronic outlets:

New Village Video™: http://www.newvillagevideo.com/murdercise

Apple TV™: http://tv.apple.com/…/umc.cmc.3j58bd68mjgbemlrnl4w1tkec

Prime Video™: http://www.primevideo.com/…/0LMDS2RIXX4IIHCARPV6ZK6RVA

Amazon.com: http://www.amazon.com/dp/B0BZ57XRRV

Physical media is being handled in-house, and is currently available to purchase through the Etsy™ e-commerce platform:

http://www.etsy.com/shop/APFilms

Of particular note are the following choice collector's items:

VHS: http://apfilms.etsy.com/listing/1565614636

DVD: http://apfilms.etsy.com/listing/1566951499

Blu-Ray: http://apfilms.etsy.com/listing/1566948937

Strictly limited 4-disc A & P™ bundle: http://apfilms.etsy.com/listing/1562217730

Poster: http://apfilms.etsy.com/listing/1567249392

And if you want to look the part as you get your sweat on, then look no further than Fast Custom Shirts™, who have all your merchandised fashion needs covered:

http://www.fastcustomshirts.com/murdercise-t-shirt

Time to get physical, y'all!

#Murdercise #AandP #TheDeadliestAerobicsVideoEverMade #TheseGirlsAreStrippersPervertsAndCommunists #AvailableNOW

youtube

BREAK!!**

{X}

Friday, October 13th, 2023 (23:32) As previously promoted here:

http://www.facebook.com/permalink.php?story_fbid=6740777469286665&id=100000634350634

More updates to follow...

Tuesday, October 31st, 2023 (23:32) October 31st caps off the #Spooktober season, bringing with it the tradition of Halloween (wOoOoOoOoOh!), so why not devote part of your evening's #FrightNight festivities to watching "Murdercise" on Tubi™, entirely for FREE?

http://www.tubitv.com/movies/100009154

Of course, in the event that you enjoy the presentation, please do consider paying to rent or purchase the movie through one of the aforementioned outlets, so as to help A & P Productions™ produce future projects. #SupportIndependentCinema

Friday, November 3rd, 2023 (23:32) A & P Productions™ have just today launched a Patreon™ account, where they've now uploaded the feature-length behind-the-scenes making-of video:

http://www.patreon.com/posts/making-of-2023-92190266

Subscriptions begin at USD $5.00 per month.

Saturday, November 4th, 2023 (23:32) In the interest of full disclosure, it should moreover be divulged that this archival video is also included as a bonus feature on both the DVD and blu-ray release of "Murdercise" (still available to purchase in limited quantities on Etsy™).

Saturday, November 11th, 2023 (23:32) It was twelve months ago, to the day, that the resplendent publicity art for "Murdercise" was first revealed online (which I showcased as part of my première announcement), so it seems only fitting to share something else of relevance to mark this occasion.

The theme song, by Canadian hardcore rockers, Total Wolf, which was featured in the official trailer, is now available as a single through the following music streaming platforms:

Apple Music™: http://music.apple.com/album/murdercise-single/16…

Amazon Music™: http://music.amazon.com/albums/B0C9FCNXDH

YouTube™: http://music.youtube.com/playlist…

iHeartRadio™: http://www.iheart.com/…/tot…/albums/murdercise-2…

Last.fm™: http://www.last.fm/music/Total+Wolf/Murdercise

Deezer™: http://www.deezer.com/album/455358965

Qobuz™: http://www.qobuz.com/…/murdercise-total-wolf/mji…

Boomplay™: http://www.boomplay.com/songs/130927353

Shazam™: http://www.shazam.com/track/669841076/murdercise

Anghami™: http://play.anghami.com/song/1114069726

Spotify™: http://open.spotify.com/album/4w8wmpBbEzp89hK…

Crank up the volume and work up a serious sweat with your music provider of choice!

Tuesday, March 19th, 2024 (23:32) 2024 UPDATE: for reasons I'm unable to speculate upon, A & P Productions™ have had their official YouTube™ channel DELETED... and so they've had to start up a new one for the purposes of showcasing their trailers and such. Accordingly, I'll link to the replacement promotional video here:

http://www.youtube.com/embed/XimU55yGJ6g?vq=hd720&rel=0…

In addition to this development, it occurred to me whilst conducting routine quadrennial housekeeping that I hadn't yet updated the assortment of supplementary streaming options available to prospective audiences, the number of which having increased since the initial announcement of this project -- as such, I should like to recommend that, in addition to those platforms already outlined, "Murdercise" is also accessible through the following digital providers:

Free Movie Channel™: http://www.freemoviechannel.tv/murdercise

Fandango At Home™: http://www.vudu.com/con…/movies/details/Murdercise/2779886

Plex™: http://watch.plex.tv/movie/murdercise

Minimal pain, maximum gain!

youtube

#2023 #Youtube

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