Eden let out a sigh so deep it sent the rainbow-colored sticky notes scattered across his desk like some fucked up "office worker edition" confetti - no fun, just endless, soul-crushing despair. He started gathering them into a messy pile, skimming through them as he went.

"Ban user Heart_for_Sale - he's drama-queening again in the demi-human fic comments, calling knot-lovers 'disgusting sow-cunts'"

Eden set aside the hot pink note, already reaching for the keyboard. He quickly typed in the username of the crusader against interesting dicks, gave him a virtual circumcision, and leaned back in his chair, grabbing a cigarette from the ashtray.

"Buddy, I feel your righteous anger, but this ain't the worst thing to get your panties in a twist about on this shithole of a website," he muttered to himself, taking a drag, listening to the faint hiss of burning paper.

His free hand moved to the mouse, scrolling through the browser - wading through the endless sea of varying degrees of cringe comments on the fanfic forum he ran. Well, he owned the goddamn site. He'd built it four years ago, thinking he'd create a solid community of creative people who were as passionate about this art as he was - only to end up creating a cesspool.

He habitually tugged at a strand of hair that had escaped his beanie and stared at the monitor with dead eyes - yet another "bad boy with a heart of gold dumps the cheerleader for the bookworm" trope... Eden tapped the ash off his cigarette and chuckled, resting his chin on his fist.

"Yeah, yeah, okay, we see you, Mary Sue. Handsome dude in a leather jacket, let's call him Damien or Ray, or some other dangerous shit, dumps Stacy with the perky tits, legs from here to Canada, and an ever-ready sucking mouth for you, oh humble library dweller."

Eden took another drag of his cigarette, not regretting a single word he'd said. It was the truth.

At least I'm not pretending, like this whole two-faced bunch of "authors".

It wasn't always like this. There was a time when he loved his job, when he believed in the community he was helping to build. But now? Now it just seemed like an endless cycle of fucked up shit that everyone tirelessly romanticizes.

Eden, having processed hundreds, if not thousands of "dead dove" fanfics, could no longer see this as something normal. He stared at the monitor as a notification beeped in the corner, indicating that he was receiving a private message. Eden fought the urge to turn off the computer and soak in the bath until evening - he was so emotionally drained by this that he had no energy left.