Hello! I don't normally make text posts like this but I wanted to do this for this particular topic.
I'm not sure how many people still follow me from when I actively made 'The Witches' Bakery', a webcomic back in my uni days that I mad that I eventually stopped and announced that it would be joining Hiveworks.
Since the statement about their Unprofessionalism and mismanagement of kickstarter funds recently came out, I can speak a little more openly about what happened to it and why TWB has remained stagnant and on hiatus.
I pitched the story to Hiveworks back in roughly 2019, and was lucky enough to be picked up by them. I was assigned two editors to help me refine and work through my story to make it ready for both printing and to be put on a personal website.
They insisted I change parts of my story and gave me feedback for it, so of course I agreed and listened to their advice. This stage of back and forth feedback over the plot and script of TWB continued for over a YEAR with little to no progress. Often retreading the same ground. When I finally put my foot down and asked to move forward, I was met with defensiveness and resistance but they reluctantly agreed after some insisting. Eventually, someone came and DMed me asking for any completed pages I had to put up on the website, but I had none since we had been discussing the plot for over a YEAR.
By the end of this timeline, I was close to tears and was regularly crying after coming out of calls with my editor(Isa). I just wanted the whole debacle to be over, so I withdrew from my contract with Hiveworks. By then, TWB had lost all traction and I was at a point where I couldn't even think about it.
I remember feeling like I had failed at doing something I loved, I had dreamed of joining Hivework's lineup for years before, but then I had to leave with my tail between my legs.
I love TWB dearly as it was the first comic I had ever made and created, and someday I will come home to it. But for now, reading this statement has been cathartic and validating for me.
Sorry to jumpscare anyone's TL with this long post, but I still grieve over TWB, and reading this has me in a conflicting place. I Am Feeling A Lot And Trying Not To Cry
Edit : I just wanted to add, they got the NAME of my comic wrong twice on my contract and I had to prompt them to fix it.
š¬ 32Ā Ā š 1328Ā Ā ā¤ļø 1782Ā Ā·Ā The Trouble with Hiveworks: an Open LetterĀ Ā·Ā Making comics better for everyone!
It's been a long ten years and I fi
Commander KateāāUnfortunately I was raised to finish my meals, so I donāt care if your legs are shaking, take it, darlingāāLethbridge Stewart.
Your fist collided with the sand filled bag, stopping it dead in its tracks. Breathing hot and heavy after a two hour workout. You grabbed for your towel, sitting down to wipe away the sweat from your face as the feeling of a cold water bottle hit the side of your neck.
āI heard you finishing up so I figured I'd bring some water.ā You hear Wanda say from behind you. Your tumbler is forgotten beside you as you take the bottle from her. You'd been here only a week, but Wanda quickly learned you're a creature of habit. The early wake up time, workouts that lasted the same amount each day. She was taking notice of the little things.
āThank you. We have to go out for that interview soon, right?ā You ask as you receive a nod. Your eyes flicked down to her hands. Her fingers fidgeting with the rings on her other hand. You could tell she was nervous, but it wasn't your place to say anything so you simply stand up. āI'll be ready in 10. Is Bucky ready?ā Your voice is firm, commanding, but devoid of any unnecessary inflection. Bucky's reliability is another aspect of your job that you've come to depend on. Wanda simply nods as the two of you leave the at-home gym.
You head back to your room in the house, taking a quick five minute shower before dressing in your army pants, boots, and a plain white top. You also put on your bulletproof vest and holster your pistol.
As you swiftly gear up, the weight of the bulletproof vest is a familiar comfort against your chest. You've worn it through countless missions, and now it's become a staple of your attire as Wanda Maximoff's bodyguard. The pistol snug in its holster feels like an extension of your body, a tool of protection that you've trained with extensively.
Exiting your room, you find Wanda pacing in the living room, her nervous energy palpable. Bucky stands nearby, his posture relaxed but alert, a testament to his own years of military training.
"Ready to go when you are Maāam," you state, your voice steady and authoritative. Wanda nods, her eyes briefly meeting yours before she gathers herself. She's still adjusting to having a constant shadow, someone who anticipates her needs before she even realizes them. You can sense her wariness, the uncertainty lingering beneath her composed faƧade.
As you escort Wanda to the awaiting vehicle you place your hand on the small of her back. A small gesture to reassure her that youāre here. You keep a vigilant watch on your surroundings. Every passerby is a potential threat, every noise scrutinized for signs of danger. It's second nature to you, this constant state of alertness, but you can see how it unnerves Wanda, the way she glances around nervously.
During the drive to the interview location, Wanda remains quiet, lost in her own thoughts. You respect her need for space, allowing her the silence she seeks while remaining vigilant for any potential threats. Bucky engages in small talk, attempting to lighten the mood, but you remain stoic, your focus solely on the task at hand.
Arriving at the interview venue, you scan the area, assessing the security measures in place. Satisfied with your observations, you usher Wanda inside, your presence a silent reassurance amidst the chaos of flashing cameras and eager reporters. Your hand once again finding itās place on the small of her back.
Throughout the interview, you remain at the perimeter, a silent sentinel watching over Wanda's every move. You catch the subtle shifts in her demeanor, the way she navigates the questions. To most people she probably looked normal, but to you it was obvious she was anxious as she waited for questions to come her way with her other coworkers. She fidgeted with her rings again as she looked over the crowd. When she catches your eye you can fully see the panic and you do something that surprises you both. You make a silly face and she starts smiling with her brows furrowed. So you make another and get a chuckle out of her. It made you happy to be able to ease her tensions.
As the interview draws to a close, you guide Wanda and Bucky back to the vehicle. Once safely inside, you exhale a silent breath of relief, the tension slowly dissipating from your shoulders. You looked over at Wanda you also seemed to be much more relaxed now that it was over.
======
You sit in the dim glow of the fire, the crackling flames casting dancing shadows across the room. The warmth seeps into your bones, a comforting embrace after the long day's work. With a book in hand, you delve into its pages, immersing yourself in a world far removed from the reality of your duties.
The rhythmic tapping of keys fills the room as Wanda works diligently on her laptop, her focus unwavering. You steal a glance at her from time to time, noting the furrow of her brow as she concentrates. There's a sense of determination about her, a drive to excel in everything she does.
The silence between you is companionable, each lost in your own thoughts yet connected by the shared space. It's a rare moment of tranquility amidst the chaos of your lives, a chance to simply be without the weight of the world pressing down upon you.
As the night stretches on, the fire burns lower, casting elongated shadows that dance along the walls. You reach for your cup of tea, the warmth seeping into your hands as you take a sip. The aroma of chamomile fills the air, soothing and calming.
Eventually, Wanda closes her laptop, the soft click of the lid echoing in the quiet room. She stretches, a contented sigh escaping her lips as she settles back into her chair. You close your book, marking your place with a gentle touch before setting it aside.
"Long day," Wanda remarks, her voice breaking the silence. You nod in agreement, the events of the day still fresh in your mind. Despite the challenges, you feel a sense of accomplishment, knowing that you've kept her safe once again.
"But a good day," you reply, your voice low yet filled with assurance. Wanda meets your gaze, a hint of gratitude shining in her eyes. In that moment, you realize that despite the differences between you, there's a mutual respect that binds you together. "Time for bed?" You ask, but Wanda shakes her head, making you raise an eyebrow.
"A little longer." Her voice is soft. "Just want to relax without work for a bit. Let my mind shut off." She looked at you, eyes looking so tired. Like she could fall asleep in her chair as she curled up her legs and rested her chin on her hand to look over at the fire.
You let her be, picking your book back up to read a little more. It was only a few minutes until you heard her breathing even out, looking up from your book to find her asleep. A small smile on your face. This seemed to be a thing. Half of the week Wanda was falling asleep somewhere other than her bed and you'd have to take her to bed.
You lift Wanda effortlessly, her slight frame feeling feather-light in your arms. She stirs slightly as you gather her, her grip tightening instinctively as she nestles closer to you. Her warmth seeps into your skin, a comforting presence amidst the quiet of the night.
As you ascend the stairs to her room, you navigate with ease, your steps sure and steady. Wanda's soft breaths tickle the nape of your neck, a gentle reminder of her vulnerability in this moment of repose.
Reaching her bedroom door, you push it open with a gentle nudge, the soft click echoing in the stillness of the night. The room is bathed in moonlight, casting a silvery glow upon the familiar surroundings.
Carefully, you lower Wanda onto her bed, tucking the covers around her with a tender touch. She sighs contentedly, her features relaxed in sleep. For a moment, you simply watch her, the moonlight casting shadows across her peaceful face.
With a sigh, you turn away, leaving her to her dreams. It's become a routine, this silent vigil over her rest, a duty you've come to embrace with quiet determination.
Exiting her room, you pause in the hallway, your gaze lingering on the closed door. In the stillness of the night, you can't help but feel a sense of protectiveness wash over you, a silent vow to always keep her safe.
With one last glance, you continue down the hallway, the echo of her soft breathing lingering in your mind. As you settle into your own room, you can't help but reflect on the complexities of your role as her protector, the unspoken bond that binds you together even in the darkest of hours.
And as sleep finally claims you, you find solace in the knowledge that for tonight, at least, she rests easy under your watchful gaze.
genuinely hillarious how blunt the week before is in regards to ralph's identity. i dont think any other peice of fnaf media has ever been so blatant about any lore detail ever. ralph legit goes "they used to call me the phone guy" at one point
