#… maybe i projected really hard on one of them in particular… no one will ever guess who…
Text
how i think asgzc handles being/behaves while sick
(except im actually projecting because im really sick and miserable and mildly (very) delirious)(also this was written mostly in the short period between like 30 min fever dream plagued naps… so its all over the place and don’t expect accurate characterization)
angeal: hes that one motherfucker that can have a high fever and will still insist on doing everything, he could be on his deathbed and still trying to do stuff and care for everyone else until everyone else literally forces him to stop and rest, and even then he will still try to downplay his illness and worry about everyone else
sephiroth: realistically he doesn’t get sick but like… we’re ignoring that… he’s absolutely pitiful but without even meaning to be, like he’s perfectly fine being alone and letting it run its course but he ends up just looking so pitiful that genesis and angeal can’t resist him, they won’t leave him alone and end up trying to comfort sephiroth in any way possible, and upon trying to cuddle him, sephiroth will immediately cling to them, betraying his original ability to be alright alone
genesis: gets super clingy and whiny and refuses to let sephiroth or angeal leave him alone, inevitably forcing them to get sick with him, and hes total crybaby the entire time, needing reassurance about everything he has ever done and will ever do because for some reason being really sick makes him reflect on himself which makes him emotional and regret everything he’s ever done and fear that he isn’t good enough for sephiroth and angeal, all the emotional baggage and insecurities come flooding out until he cries himself to sleep again, wakes up from the strangest fever dream, clings to whoever is closest and the cycle continues, only breaking every so often when he forces sephiroth and angeal to feed him or they force genesis to take medicine, all the necessities ect.
zack: whiny clingy and needy, will cling to cloud like his life depends on it and uses cloud as a living teddy bear, unable to be left alone because if anyone even mentions leaving him alone for a second he immediately starts looking like a kicked puppy and clings on even tighter, desperate to be comforted, and needs to be distracted often from the fact that he is sick or else he will complain about how shitty he feels 24/7, also he will throw a fit and refuse any medication like a child until angeal either shoves a pill down his throat like a dog or crushes it up and hides it in some kind of food… also like a dog… angeal basically has to employ every dog medicine giving tactic
cloud: tries to isolate and let the illness do its thing, not wanting to get anyone else sick, and also not really wanting anyone else to see him sick and think he’s weak because he thinks every little thing, including unavoidable things like getting sick, will make him seem weak, but zack refuses to leave him alone, trying to comfort cloud in any way possible, trying to tend to every single one of clouds needs and constantly makes sure cloud is okay, although cloud tries to push zack away because he doesn’t want zack to get sick, plus unfortunately zack can get a bit stressful and be a bit of a pain in the ass to handle at times
#… maybe i projected really hard on one of them in particular… no one will ever guess who…#the answer is genesis and part of it is actually based off of a specific time i got sick as a kid#i am miserable and feel super shitty and cant do much so im doing what i can… making a questionable post i probs wont remember later :)#but that kinda seems like part of the fun!#unleash it and let others determine how much sense your half asleep sick fever dream brain makes#im not thinking straight at all i’ve been sick for a few days already so im slightly better now but not enough to think right yet#but then i also get to figure it out and make sense of it when im better enough to think :)#ff7#ffvii#final fantasy 7#crisis core#asgzc#angeal hewley#sephiroth#genesis rhapsodos#zack fair#cloud strife
40 notes
·
View notes
Text
ANALYZING THIS ONE NOELLE UPDATE ABOUT SUSIE AND KRIS BECAUSE HOLY FUCK.
First of all, I might be biased, but since this "post" is called "The newest girl", and Susie seems to really hate Kris in particular, I feel like this is great proof for the "Susie was from a human community" theory. Because she seems to really dislike Kris - who is the only human in the city - for no particular reason.
Also Susie never bullying Noelle because she was the only person who was ever nice to Susie... I love them so much.
Well, even if Kris cared about it they wouldn't be able to do anything because.... Yeah. But considering later additions to this it doesn't seem like Kris ever hated Susie? The thought of "wasting no opportunity to expell her from school" is something they never thought of, and they seemed to get the worst of it. Who knows, Kris is weird snsjsjs.
We know that Susie being "mean" is more of a persona she puts up since no one is nice to her, so it's really hard to read her true intentions here but I mean if I were to assume.. Susie has very bad eating habits, and it seems like she's trying to warn Kris here but she's not being nice about it.
.. And she made Kris laugh! They maybe thought it was a joke, or maybe it's just their weird sense of humor but it seems like they really vibed with Susie's whole thing, because they are both literally the same level of chaos. They seemed to like her while she hated their guts.
Susie clearly misinterprets Kris' reaction and throws the apple at them and we can see Kris being a true gamer and also a weird little shit kRIS DON'T EAT THE APPLE WHAT ARE YOU DOING--
And then Susie makes an oopsie. Listen, I know Susie and Kris are THE bestest of friends now, and it's very clear that they like each other a lot, and can never be separated, but I really hope they talk it out about everything she said.
Because that clearly hit Kris really hard. While Kris sure has uh, a lot of other worse things to worry about now, I'm sure they would still remember this no? They really need to talk everything out I think :(. Perhaps in the diner scene in ch4 haha hello please Toby?
(Also maybe Susie was projecting a bit when she said that? It's very unclear if she has parents soo, it would make sense) .
This part is very interesting. Because if Kris really did say something, there's no way that what they said was a threat. If a threat scared Susie that much, I doubt that she would completely brush it off and start bullying them again in the future. But what else could have they said to make Susie run away like that?
Well, we do know Kris is going through a lot, so I imagine they probably had a pretty bad reaction that wouldn't be a threat, but it would make Susie leave, out of shock perhaps?
So what I think Kris would have said (if they said anything at all, and it wasn't just their expression) , would be some short but very self-deprecating sentence like: "Yeah. She would". And that, together with whatever face they were making, would be enough to push Susie away I think. Anyway those are my 2 cents to this.
Also Noelle hid inside the locker lmao, and Kris knew she was there all the time and just slowly shut the door on her again. They're so weird I love them so much.
#WOOO THEY ME WHAT YOU THINK THO#deltarune#susie deltarune#kris deltarune#kris dreemurr#noelle holiday#noelle#noelle deltarune#kris
3K notes
·
View notes
Note
WIBTA for getting a pet one of my parents is allergic to and/or planting plants that would attract them?
Pretty short one, honestly. I'm currently living with my parents and younger siblings. Ages aren't particularly important, just know that everyone involved is an adult except my youngest sibling, who just reached teenagerdom, and the rest of us "kids" are stuck living at home without any real way to get places of our own.
What some of my siblings know, to varying degrees, and that my parents either don't know or are willfully ignorant towards, is that I am so far removed from my parents' political views that it's like listening to an alien way of thinking whenever one of them brings politics up. I've gotten very good at shutting up and letting them think what they want to about me- with how hard they project, they probably think I'm exactly like them. In reality I just don't think minorities should be considered "hate crimes against God" and think they're insane for believing as much.
Sure doesn't help that I'm in multiple categories of minorities that they consider "hate crimes against God" lmao
One of them, in particular, has gone into detail multiple times about what he thinks should be done to people like me or those who support them. It's, uh…not pretty. Let's just say he thinks fascism is perfectly fine and leave it at that.
When I move out- because I refuse to be stuck here forever- I'm hoping to be financially stable enough to afford a pet. I'm considering a snake, or maybe a bird, or a cat. Not all at once, obviously. However, when we were growing up, we only ever had dogs. The fascist parent is allergic to cats, so I can count on one hand the number of cats I've ever actually interacted with, and I'd need more than two hands and two feet to count the number of "throw the kittens in a sack and toss them into the river" "jokes" I've had to suffer through over the years.
I'm pretty sure there's no saving this familial connection. I want to tell them both who I am, but I can't do that until I have my own place because I know they're gonna react really fucking badly. They've told me so themselves.
…which brings me to my question. I guess it's not so much "WIBTA for encouraging the presence of animals one of my parents is allergic to as a measure to keep them away" and more "WIBTA for getting a pet that my parents might dislike enough to try and get rid of" iykwim.
What are these acronyms?
158 notes
·
View notes
Text
take my hands (we can fall together) | lee chan | pt 1
(where you and chan are friends, but he's your brother's best friend. and you've always been just a little out of reach. until one season changes everything.)
pairing: brother's best friend!chan (dino) x f!reader
genre: friends to ??, pining, slow burn | fluff, angst, (eventual) smut
rating: explicit (for the full fic)
warnings/notes: mentions of unhealthy relationships (reader x boyfriend), mentions of food, mentions of drinking/alcohol, lots of stereotypical fall activities, reader's brother is chan's age and reader is 2 years older, eventual smut (in pt 3 - see that for warnings), any names of other idols are considered to be OCs
word count: ~6.5k (full fic is roughly 23k)
a/n: huge thanks to @svthub for hosting this fall collab. check out the full list of fics here. this is part 1, the full fic is in 3 parts and the dates for the next 2 parts are at the bottom. also thank you to my bby indi for beta reading @wongyuseokie and creating an amazing banner @classicscreations.
if you want to be tagged in the next 2 parts, send an ask or dm or just comment 💕
masterlist | next
Fall has never been Chan’s favorite season. The weather cools down, but it’s in this weird in-between. One day, it’s cold enough for heavy jackets, and the next it’s almost warm enough to wear shorts. It starts to get dark too early as the days get shorter, which makes it feel like there’s just less time in the day. Or, even worse, there are days when Chan leaves the apartment in the dark and returns in the dark. Everything feels like it’s dying with the leaves falling. It seems like it should be a season of thankfulness and friends and holidays, but it just ends up feeling like an ending in a bad way. He’s not cynical, he’s just not really sure he likes this time of year.
“I wish I had someone to do fall things with me,” you announce to nobody in particular.
Okay, well maybe Chan needs to rethink this whole opinion on the season. Because here’s the other thing, he’s always been drawn to you. Sure, you’re his friend. It’s just, he’s always been closer to your brother, Jay. Always a little envious, too. You and Jay are friends as much as siblings, despite you being two years older. So much so that your friend group is somewhat merged. Chan knows that Jay has friends you don’t hang around with and that the same goes for you. It’s still nice, though. Seeing the two of you, he understands what it means to love family and also like them.
Yet in all those years of friendship, Chan can still remember the moment when he started seeing you differently. You’d called Jay late one night, no text or anything, and Jay picked up right away because it was so unlike you. It was your first real breakup, a guy you met and started dating in college, the only time you and Jay had been really separated. Even if the separation was only a two hour drive. You were so devastated that Jay switched to a video call and convinced you to come home for the weekend. All Chan can remember is how much he wanted to protect you from ever feeling that way again. He knew you didn’t deserve the way that guy made you feel. Then, the new school year came around, and he and Jay were on campus with you. The draw has only gotten stronger since then.
“Isn’t that what you have a boyfriend for?” Jay asks.
You roll your eyes affectionately. “He doesn’t really like the fall. Plus, he’s super busy with work projects. He doesn’t want to go pick apples or adventuring or any of that stuff.”
The way you play it off feels casual, like it doesn’t actually matter. Your eyes tell a different story. Chan’s heart breaks a little as he does everything he can to not show it. Jay, unfortunately for you, also notices.
“Is everything okay with…shit, what’s his name?” Jay asks.
“Come on, Jay, they hard launched like 6 months ago, shouldn’t you know his name by now?” Lisa, ever the best friend to you, chimes in.
“Ease up, Lisa,” you say, voice a little tired. “Things with Seungsik are fine, he’s just busy right now.”
“Hey,” Jay starts.
“We can always do fall stuff with you,” Chan hears himself offer without even realizing he’s saying anything. Several pairs of eyes shoot to him.
“Bro, you hate fall shit,” Vernon scoffs.
“I do not,” Chan retorts.
“Since when? I had to twist your arm for Friendsgiving last year,” Jay counters.
“That is true,” Lisa agrees.
“No you too,” Chan directs at Lisa.
“That’s really sweet, Channie,” you cut across the bickering. It takes everything in him to remain neutral at your compliment and the use of a nickname. “Maybe we can do some stuff as a group. I feel like Fall is the time for friends anyway.”
There’s a smattering of agreement, names thrown out of other friends that aren’t there, lighthearted eye rolls at how into this season you are, and more than a glance or two in Chan’s direction. He does his best to ignore those. He doesn’t need to think about them right now. All he can really focus on is that he agreed to get up insanely early on Sunday morning so that you could take this train ride that you’ve wanted to do in the Fall to see all the trees changing colors. Especially since the colors are more vibrant this year. Which is fine. Chan doesn’t really mind being up early, but nobody else is committing to go. Not even your brother. The fact that you seem unbothered at it being just you and him makes Chan’s stomach flip.
Chan is nervous when it comes time to leave for the train ride. You offered to pick him up since you were dragging him out of the warmth of his bed so early in the morning and even said he didn’t have to go through with it. Which meant you probably wouldn’t go through with it because the two other people that had tentatively agreed backed out the night before. Even over text, Chan could tell that you were disappointed at the thought of not going. And even he had to admit that he was curious about the draw of this particular activity. So off you went.
It only takes one day for Chan to start changing his opinion on the season. Or, one person. There’s something about the way your face lights up the second you’re on the train that takes him over as well. You’re more excited, still, that the train doesn’t seem that crowded, so the two of you will have your own little area to sit in without anyone else that close by. Sheepishly, you admit that the train runs multiple times a day, but this gives you the most time at the top of the mountain. Taking advantage of how rare it is to spend time alone with you, Chan asks you what exactly it is that you love about Fall. Maybe if he hears from someone who loves it, he’ll see it differently.
He watches as your face transforms. Your eyes get wide, and a genuine smile spreads across your face, gone just long enough to ask if he’s sure. All Chan can do is laugh because it’s so endearing. But he nods, and you’re like a kid at Christmas. You start with the leaves as the train pulls away from the station. There’s more to them than just changing color and falling to the ground, at least to you. Yes, they’re pretty, like shades of gold fluttering along with the wind and bringing good fortune. You liken it to growth in a way Chan never considered. Sure, the leaves are changing color and dying. It’s also about growth and release. Trees need to let go of their leaves so they can go into their next phase. So they can be ready to grow new leaves and new life in the spring. You don’t get that without the release in the Fall.
You like the way things taste fresher, too. The way apples feel crisper because it’s when they were meant to be enjoyed. The way vanilla and cinnamon just warm your soul with everything they’re baked into. You love the comfort, like a warm blanket, of just being able to bake so many things. When Chan points out that you bake all year around, you get that playful smile again. You agree and disagree at the same time. You can bake all year round, but certain things were just meant for when the weather starts to get colder.
Most of all, you really just feel like it’s a positive change. Of learning to let go of all the things that are holding you back. Of cutting out those parts of life that feel dead or stagnant. Of starting the process to allow new things to grow. Chan doesn’t mention that maybe you’re not as good at that part as you want to think. He can tell you want to be, but he wonders if you realize there’s someone in your life who really isn’t adding anything to it anymore. He doesn’t mention Seungsik and neither do you.
When you get to the top and step off the train, Chan gasps at the sight. He’s never really stopped to appreciate nature like this and it’s overwhelming in the best way. It makes him feel kind of small, except it’s not a bad feeling, and he’s really glad that you suggested taking the early train because it means the top of the mountain isn’t crowded. He’s so busy taking in the clear views that go on for miles that he doesn’t even notice the way your face lights up watching his reaction. He can’t possibly know how full your heart is at him being so present.
“This is beautiful,” he whispers. It seems like a crime to disrupt the peace.
“Yeah, it is,” you agree. There’s something in the way you say it that makes Chan look over at you. By the time he looks, though, your eyes are on the horizon as well.
“Have you done this before? I don’t feel like I remember Jay talking about it at all,” Chan asks, still watching you.
You stiffen for a second in a way that’s entirely at odds with the mention of your brother. Or maybe your mind is a million miles away. That’s another thing that Chan’s always found so interesting about you. There’s a brightness and a lightness about you, but there’s also a sense of mystery. LIke there are parts of yourself that you always hold back. Like you want to appear to be entirely open, even though you’re not. Like there are secret parts that only your closest relationships get to know.
“Jay wouldn’t have,” you finally answer with a smile. “Our grandparents brought me when we were both still little. But Jay wasn’t interested, so he stayed with our parents. I’ve wanted to do it again as an adult, but you know, life happens.”
“Anyone who cares about you would want to see this,” Chan admits as he looks out at the views again.
It’s too honest, and Chan knows it, but there’s just something about this kind of environment that makes him want to admit things he shouldn’t. Or wouldn’t, normally. There’s something like anonymity surrounded by this much nature. It reminds you just how small people are in comparison. He’s also thankful that you seem to be agreeing that you can say those unspoken things here. That is, until he feels your hand on his arm, turning him to look at you.
“Thank you, Chan,” you say with more sincerity than he’s ever heard in all the time he’s known you. “I care about you, too.”
“I, um,” Chan starts and clears his throat. “You’re welcome.”
“We’ve never hung out like this, just the two of us,” you say, still watching him.
“No, we haven’t,” Chan agrees because it’s all he can do to hold onto his rapidly slipping composure.
“I was…okay, this is gonna sound dumb, but I was a little nervous. That’s why I tried to give you an out,” you say. Your voice is soft and you look down at your feet. Like it’s too much to admit while looking at Chan and when it’s so quiet all around you.
“I almost took it,” Chan tells you.
“Why didn’t you? Weren’t you worried?” you wonder.
Chan shrugs to buy himself a second. “Because it was important to you. I figured it was better to roll the dice and risk it being a little awkward so you didn’t miss out.”
You turn away, but Chan catches the look on your face anyway. Catches the way you take a steadying breath. Can’t miss the way you try to hide as you wipe away a tear. The last thing he wanted to do was make you upset. And even though his heart is racing, he pulls you into a hug. He’s not sure what else to do except whisper sorries against your hair.
“No, no, no,” you finally say. “You don’t need to be sorry.”
“I made you cry,” Chan disagrees.
“No, you didn’t. It’s just so insanely sweet that I was overwhelmed for a minute,” you tell him.
“Guess it was awkward after all,” Chan says. It’s a little self-deprecating.
“No, it wasn’t,” you assure him. “This is so much more than I could have asked for. I’m just, I guess I’m not really used to people doing things like this for me.”
Chan is thankful he’s not holding you anymore because there’s no way to hide the way his heart tries to beat out of his chest. All he can do is smile and hope that you can’t read his thoughts because they’re a weird mix. His heart is full that you’re so appreciative of something that seems so small. Sure, life is short, and there are only so many days. But it’s also too short to pass up on opportunities to see something different like this. To actually stop and experience the world around you instead of just rushing to the next day. His heart also breaks at the idea of you not being used to people doing things like this for you. Because it seems so small. It doesn’t seem like some huge thing to do. Chan and Jay have been friends for more than 10 years, so he’s known you for a long time. He knows that you don’t have the best taste in partners. Still, though. He can’t imagine something so small being so impactful to you.
The two of you mostly stick close together, or at least within eyesight of each other. There’s so much to see at the top of the mountain. Little signs seem to ring around the edges, telling people what they’re looking at or giving a history. Each one makes Chan appreciate the views even more. Every once in a while, he also catches you watching him and smiling, like you’re still checking that he’s enjoying himself. He can’t say that, of course, he’s enjoying himself, he’s with you, but he tries to smile back every time.
Eventually, you suggest having lunch at the restaurant next to the little station where the train stops. He’s been so busy taking in his surroundings that he doesn’t even realize that he’s hungry. Right on queue, his stomach grumbles at the mention of food, and you laugh it off. Once you’re sitting down, you can’t seem to settle on one thing for lunch. Without thinking, Chan suggests that you just share a few different things so you can try what you want. Who knows when you’ll be back up here again? Although you seem hesitant at first, a little reassurance from Chan goes a long way. That and him insisting he’ll be happy with whatever you order.
It’s truly an entirely perfect day, one neither of you really wants to end, even if you won’t admit it to the other. But you have to take the train down eventually and come back to reality.
“Sorry I have to take this,” you say with a frown at your phone.
Chan thinks it says Seungsik, which makes him frown, too. It takes a real effort for him not to follow you out of the room with his eyes. Not that Jay, Seokmin, or Jiyeon would notice. They’re currently locked in a Mario Kart battle, with Jiyeon winning yet again. Chan risks a glance in your direction and makes a snap decision.
“Do you guys want anything from the kitchen?” Chan asks.
“Yeah, something to drink,” Seokmin says.
“Is losing making you thirsty?” Jiyeon teases.
“You can’t win forever, Ji,” Jay shoots back. “Come on, Seok, we can work together on this.”
“That’s cheating,” Jiyeon giggles.
Chan ignores the banter to go to the kitchen. Ostensibly, he’s actually planning to get drinks for the group in the living room. Realistically, he’s curious about what’s making you frown and if you’re okay. From his spot in the kitchen, he can hear your voice drifting through the door of Jay’s bedroom. It’s hard to focus on getting drinks.
“I understand that your work is important, but,” you start, working to stay quiet despite the annoyance in your voice.
Maybe this was a bad idea because he wishes he could hear the other side. Or at least know for sure that it was Seungsik.
“Yes, I’m aware that you think it’s just a stupid Fall tradition,” you huff. “No, baby, I’m not saying your work doesn’t matter. It’s the weekend, though.”
Well, at least he knows that it’s Seungsik. Not that it makes it any better.
“That’s not fair, baby. I’m not saying that I don’t want you to work hard or try to get that promotion. You know how much I support you. It’s just I want to matter too,” you say, and Chan’s heart fully breaks at the heartbreak in your voice.
What is wrong with this man that he can’t take a second away from work to spend time with one of the most beautiful people in the world?
“I feel like I’ve barely seen you in weeks. You’re always working or networking and…” you trail off. “No, I do get that networking is part of the job, and you’re up for a promotion…Wow, yes, I do get how hard your job is. But do you get that you keep making promises to me and breaking them?”
There’s a bite to your voice that’s entirely foreign to Chan. It’s also at complete odds with the undercurrent of defeat. There are two sides warring during this conversation, and Chan doesn’t really recognize either of them.
“It’s not just some stupid fall tradition,” you say. It’s without any bite now. You’re defeated. “It’s…yeah, I get it. You think it’s dumb. It’s fine, I understand you won’t be coming.”
It feels like the conversation is probably ending, so Chan turns his back away from the bedroom to focus on drinks. All he can do is hope that nothing about his posture gives him away. But he can’t help listening anyway, and he hears you ending the phone call before shuffling towards the kitchen all the same.
“Oh,” you nearly gasp.
As casually as he can manage, Chan turns around towards your voice with a bag of chips in one hand. That plan goes out the window when he sees you rubbing your eyes. All he wants is to be able to protect you from the world. Because you deserve better. Not that he thinks he’s better. He just knows you deserve more than this. More than being unhappy every time he sees you.
“Hey, are you okay?” Chan asks. He meant to ask if you wanted anything to drink, yet couldn’t ignore your frown.
“How long have you been in here?” you ask.
Chan shrugs. “Not long, just came to get them some drinks and figured I’d grab chips. Do you want anything?”
“That’s a loaded question,” you say under your breath.
“You okay?” Chan asks again. He knows you’re not, but he doesn’t really want to admit that he was listening to your side of the conversation.
“Can I…ugh, this is so weird, but can I just have a hug?” Your eyes are a little wide and a whole lot vulnerable.
It’s silly, but he would give you anything if it meant that you wouldn’t look broken. No, that’s the wrong word. There’s nothing wrong with being a little broken. It’s just that he wishes Seungsik wasn’t letting you down time after time. Chan sets down the chips and opens his arms without a word. There’s relief on your face as you step forward and wrap your arms around his middle. Your head rests on his shoulder and he feels the moment that your body releases the tension. Feels the moment when your breathing relaxes to match his own. When you step away, your eyes at least look a little happier.
“It’s never weird to ask for a hug from a friend,” Chan tells you.
You laugh at that, a real laugh, and for a second, Chan wonders why. “You seem to be getting a lot of my emotional side lately.”
Chan just shrugs again. “I’m happy to see whatever side you wanna show me.”
Just then, Jay comes into the kitchen, grumbling about losing another game. He doesn’t even look at Chan or you before going to grab the drinks on the counter. It’s probably the perfect timing so that Chan doesn’t say anything else that’s too honest.
“I thought you were leaving,” Jay says to you.
“Wow, trying to get rid of me already?” you ask without any of the normal teasing Jay is used to.
“Of course not. I just thought you were going apple picking with Seungsik,” Jay answers.
It’s then that he seems to really look at you and realizes something is wrong. He looks like he’s about to take back his words when you open your mouth. “No, he’s too busy with something for work. So I’ll probably just stick around here.”
Chan looks at your brother and hopes he picks up the same wavelength. It seems he does because he sighs in resignation. But it’s a mark of how concerned he is that he doesn’t mention Seungsik being a dick for this. “Why don’t we go with you?”
“What?” you ask.
“Hey,” Jay calls into the living room. “Who wants to go apple picking?”
“I’m in, beating you and Seokmin is getting boring,” Jiyeon answers.
“You haven’t won every one,” Seokmin whines.
“You don’t have to do this,” you say softly to your brother.
“Oh, are we going with you?” Jiyeon asks. “I’m in. Can I call Vernon and drag him along?”
“We should ask Lisa if she wants to come too. She loves that stuff,” Seokmin suggests. “I haven’t actually gone apple picking in forever.”
“It’s a lost cause,” Chan tells you, “we’re all going apple picking now.”
“Fine,” you pretend to sigh, “but can I ride with you? Jay’s a shitty driver.”
“I resent that,” Jay scoffs.
It takes a little time to let everyone know where to meet, but Jay manages to wrangle the group well enough so that they all make it to the orchard. True to your word, you ride with Chan. Jay and Jiyeon go to pick up Vernon, and Seokmin goes to pick up Lisa and Mina. Once everyone is there and the bags are bought, groups start to wander off in different directions to look for the best apples. Because, of course, Jiyeon has turned this into a competition and is convinced she can make the best apple pie. Chan knew by the sparkle in your eye that you weren’t going to just settle for that one.
“You’re on,” you say and shake on it.
“Well, this is interesting,” Jay notes.
“Come on, Jay, you’re on my team,” Jiyeon says and grabs his arm.
“Uh, hello, that’s my brother,” you argue.
“Yeah, and he’s tall, better for reaching the perfect apple,” Jiyeon says with a shrug. “Snooze, you lose.”
“If you’re that worried about the perfect apples up high, I’ve already won,” you reason before turning to Chan. “Come on, Chan, you’re with me.”
He doesn’t even hesitate for a minute, which would probably be a little embarrassing if he wasn’t actually looking forward to the afternoon. It seems you have a plan, and all he really has to do is follow along. It’s not like it’s the first time he’s been alone with you, either. Any awkwardness left with the train ride.
There’s more to picking apples than just picking the first ones you see, as Chan quickly finds out. You consult the little flyer about which ones are in season and start talking about which types of apples make the best pies. Which are the best for tarts. Which are the best for a bunch of desserts that he’s never heard of. It goes way over his head when you’re talking about the different flavors of apples and which goes best with cinnamon and nutmeg and all the flavors that remind you of the Fall. He’s always known that you loved to bake, but there's something different about seeing it in action like this. And you’re not even actually cooking.
Despite your insistence about the height of apples, you do come across some trees where the lower ones all look bad, even by Chan’s standards. When there’s a ladder around, he offers to climb up it so that you can have the perfect apple. It seems to make you smile every time. The system works pretty well until you come to a tree with the perfect apples and no ladder in sight. In hindsight, it’ll definitely seem stupid. That he helps you fixate on something so small as the perfect apple. Yet, at the moment, it makes perfect sense.
“Here, climb on my shoulders,” Chan offers and bends down.
“No, it’s really okay,” you say, waving him off.
“If you want the apples, then let’s get you the apples,” Chan insists.
“I’m too heavy,” you protest.
“You’re not,” Chan promises.
“You’re not going to drop me, are you?” you worry.
“Never,” Chan assures you.
He stays crouched down to allow you to climb onto his shoulders. Once you hook your legs around his back and he grabs your knees, he stands up, very thankful that he’s never skipped leg day. What he’s not counting on, or prepared for, is your surprise. Because in that surprise, your thighs squeeze either side of his face. He’s sure it’s an involuntary action. He’s sure you don’t even realize you’re doing it. Yet it makes him swallow hard all the same. As soon as he steadies himself (mentally, that is, because physically he’s fine), he steps towards the tree. On his shoulders, you’re easily tall enough to reach the apples you wanted in the first place.
“Thank you,” you say softly when he lets you back down.
“No problem,” Chan says, ignoring the slight dryness in his throat.
Apparently, taking the perfect pictures in the orchard is just as important as picking the apples. Chan does roll his eyes about that a little bit but agrees to be your photographer anyway. It’s the same thing all over again. Your face lights up at having someone to do all these things with and he’s putty in your hands. It’s impossible to say no. There’s a moment where he can tell that you’re a little upset that your boyfriend isn’t there to take pictures with you. Obviously, part of the whole thing should involve him in your perfect world. Yet he’s not the one that’s here. Instead, Chan offers to take a picture of the two of you and then take some with your other friends when you meet back up.
The group also has to decide just how to judge this baking contest. The only rules that you and Jiyeon agree to is that it has to be something baked and it has to use the apples. Beyond that, it’s up to whoever wants to participate just what they make. It’s not usually Seokmin’s thing, but he offers to help Mina bake and, since neither of them are that good, you and Jiyeon allow it.
“Why don’t we get together next weekend and do something else?” Vernon suggests.
“Like what?” Jay asks.
“Pumpkin carving!” you shout out.
“You know what? That actually sounds fun, and we haven’t done it in years,” Jay says.
“Yeah, we always used to have the best pumpkins as kids,” you agree.
“They were pretty cool,” Chan agrees.
“So pumpkins and whatever baked apple thing to see who wins?” Vernon asks.
Everyone agrees, and Chan can’t help but look to you. Anything you might have been feeling over your boyfriend missing yet another Fall activity that matters to you is forgotten. Or you’re doing a very good job at hiding it. All your face shows is happiness. It’s kind of infectious.
It doesn’t get much more stereotypically Fall than going to the pumpkin patch and taking pictures. Really, it’s pretty cliche. Yet, you seem unfazed by the entire prospect. You’re layered up, just like everyone else, to fight off the crispness of the air. Unlike everyone else, your face lights up when you pull up to the orchard, a different one than where you picked the apples. There are rows upon rows of pumpkins, all waiting to go to the perfect homes. You’re out of the car and off to walk through the rows before anyone else, and you don’t seem to have a care in the world.
There’s an art, Chan learns, to picking the best pumpkin. It all depends on what exactly someone wants to carve. Too small, and it feels crowded, too big and the face gets swallowed. Unless you make everything bigger, which is always an option. That gets a chuckle out of Vernon and a smack to his arm from Lisa. Lisa, always entirely honest, is really just in it for the pictures and then for whatever baked goods they get to taste test later. She’s happy to carve a pumpkin too, but she wants to use a stencil. And fully admits that she’ll probably get bored halfway through.
Almost unconsciously, or maybe by habit at this point, Chan finds himself wandering through the rows with you. Every now and then, you pause to consider a pumpkin before moving on. There’s so much concentration on the task, and he can’t help but to wonder if you’re just excited or if you’re also avoiding thinking about other things.
“What are you looking for?” Chan finally asks.
You turn and regard him for a second, evidently deciding that he’s just curious rather than judgmental. “Okay, don’t think it’s lame…”
“Why would I?” he asks honestly.
“I sort of have a couple ideas for what I want to carve,” you admit. “Do you, is it okay if I show you?”
“Yeah, of course,” comes Chan’s immediate reply.
There’s that smile again, the one that lights up your whole face like this is the best day that you can imagine. You pull your phone out of your pocket and open your photos. It’s hard to miss that all the recent images are from the things you’ve done as a group or screenshots or things saved from random searches. There aren’t any recent ones, as you quickly scroll, with you and Seungsik. His attention is pulled back to the task at hand when you show him a couple of different carving ideas you have.
“Which one do you like best?” you ask after showing him several.
“It’s hard to pick. Honestly, I think you should get a couple of pumpkins,” Chan answers.
That actually seems to make you happier as you pluck one from nearby that’s apparently perfect for at least one of your ideas. Chan offers to hold it for you as the two of you carry on in finding just the right pumpkins. It’s interesting, especially having picked apples with you, that you spend so much more care in this. You explain that some of the pumpkins don’t have the best sides so they don’t look as good when you carve them. They’re good for displaying as is or good to back with, but you want the prettiest pumpkins if you’re carving something.
Well, he can’t really argue with that.
Once you’re all back at his and Jay’s apartment, everyone splits off in different directions. You and Jiyeon immediately go to bring out your apple desserts. Chan’s a little surprised, still, that Seokmin and Mina actually made something together. But it all looks good, and he’s kind of hungry. Lisa, who suggested ordering actual food, manages to get the bags inside with Vernon’s help. The two of them get to work setting all the food out on the counter for people to start getting plates. Chan starts pulling out plates and glasses for everyone. Jay clears off their little dining table, which isn’t big enough for everyone, as well as the coffee table. It’s not like this is anything formal anyway.
Even though you and Jiyeon want to start with the desserts, Mina manages to convince you to have actual food first. Then, as everyone is carving, they can start trying whatever looks best to them. You reluctantly agree from your spot on the floor. There’s plenty of space to sit on the couch, but instead, you sit on the floor, right next to Chan’s legs, occasionally brushing against him as you move. It’s a little harder for him to watch you without being so obvious and just as hard to ignore your presence. There’s a vibrance to you again, like everything in your world is right. Like nothing could possibly be missing. It doesn’t escape his notice that you don’t mention Seungsik; don’t seem to be missing him during this activity. It’s not like apple picking where he bailed. He was never part of these plans. Maybe that’s the key, or maybe you’re realizing that doing all of this with friends can be just as fun. Whatever the reason, Chan wants you to keep smiling like this.
After protesting, sitting on the floor to eat, Chan has to agree that sitting on the floor to carve pumpkins makes the most sense. It’s easier when you’re not bending over to the coffee table level. It also gives him more space. Like Lisa, he’s using a stencil that he printed out. He wants it to be perfect, and he’s not sure he could do it freehand.
“Okay, I want dessert. Who’s going to tell me what’s what?” Vernon announces.
You’re up before anyone can say anything to grab your desserts. Plural. “Okay, so I made two…”
“Which is cheating,” Jiyeon interjects.
“Is not,” you reply and stick your tongue out at her. You open each container. “These are just apple fritters and these are salted caramel apple bars.”
“Tell me you did not make caramel from scratch, too,” Jiyeon whines.
“It’s so easy, of course I did,” you retort.
“Ugh, of course,” Jiyeon groans. “Anyway, I made apple-pomegranate cobbler.”
“Which looks amazing,” you compliment, causing Jiyeon to beam.
“And since we knew these two would go totally over the top, we just made plain old apple pie,” Mina says.
“Hey, we worked hard, don’t undersell it,” Seokmin points out.
“I’m sure it’s great, Seok,” Lisa says to pacify him.
“I’m going to eat it all,” Vernon announces.
He goes to get a plate and, true to his word, puts some of everything on it. You carry on carving and wave off Chan’s offer to get you something. It’s hard not to play favorites, but he also doesn’t want some of everything. At least not yet. So he grabs one of the salted caramel apple bars that you made and some of Jiyeon’s dessert. Things get quiet again as everyone is either enjoying the dessert or focusing on their pumpkins.
Despite Vernon taking a break to eat as much dessert as he could stomach, he does get back to working on his pumpkin and it’s annoying how good it looks. He went in without a plan and his pumpkin is one of the best. Chan thinks his could probably be a lot better, but he’s also happy with it. As predicted, Lisa abandoned hers halfway through and has been picking music to play ever since. It’s kind of nice, though, to have her doing that. It makes the whole afternoon into the evening pass by in the best way.
Chan should probably think of new words, but this is another one of those days that just feels like the best of the season. Everyone is together and happy. Nobody is fighting, unless it’s you and Jiyeon playfully arguing when your apple bars win as the best dessert. It’s fine to be in your feelings, and Chan meant it when he said he would be happy with whatever side you wanted to show him. It’s also important to have the lighter days. The easy days. The ones that make weathering the storm a little more manageable. It’s clear there’s definitely still a storm, and he’s thankful for the little breaks like this.
However, as it turns to night, everyone starts to filter out of the apartment. Seokmin, Mina, and Lisa want to go out to the bar and ask if anyone else wants to come. Jiyeon and Vernon already planned to go out to dinner. They’re still in that phase where they want to act like they’re not dating, even though they definitely are, and everyone is happy for them. Jay’s been talking to someone off some dating app that he wants to go hang out with. That just leaves you and Chan.
“I’m actually kinda tired, so I think I might just stay in,” Chan tells Seokmin when he asks again if either of you wants to come to the bar with them.
“I don’t really feel like going out,” you admit before looking at Chan. “Do you mind if I stay here with you?”
“Course not,” Chan answers, ignoring the look he knows Jay is giving the two of you. Your brother’s never really been good at being subtle.
“Lame, but I get it,” Lisa says with a shrug.
Everyone but Jay filters out for their plans and he disappears into his bedroom to get ready. Chan gets up to start cleaning up and putting everything away.
“You don’t need to help. You’re a guest,” Chan tells you when you join in on the cleaning.
“Wow, a guest? And here I thought we were friends,” you scoff.
Chan shakes his head. “You know what I mean.”
“I figure if I help then I can rope you into watching a movie with me,” you answer.
“Fine,” Chan says, pretending to be put out.
Truthfully, he’s going to agree to whatever you want to do. You could say that you wanted to learn a new language and Chan would probably at least give it a try. Down horrifically bad. Yet, he’s too caught up in thinking about hanging out with you again that he doesn’t see the way you look over at him every few minutes. Misses the way your gaze softens at how much care he uses in moving the pumpkins. Misses the way your eyes rake over him as if you’re seeing him for the first time. He’s so caught up in his own thoughts that he doesn’t realize things are starting to shift for you as well.
Instead, the two of you finish cleaning up mostly in silence and are settling onto the couch by the time Jay reemerges. Convenient timing given that he doesn’t have to even make up an excuse about why he can’t help. You’re quick to call him on it and he’s just as quick to brush it off as he runs out the door. It leaves you and Chan on your own for the night. So you pick the place for take away and Chan picks the first movie. Just like that, you settle in for the night.
part 2 coming on dec. 3rd, part 3 coming on dec. 6th. let me know what you think and if you'd like to be tagged 💕
#svthub#svthub.collab#kvanity#chan x reader#chan x you#lee chan x reader#lee chan x you#dino x reader#dino x you#seventeen x reader#seventeen x you#svt x reader#svt x you#chan fluff#chan angst#chan smut#dino fluff#dino angst#dino smut#svt fanfic#chan imagines#lee chan imagines#dino imagines#seventeen imagines#svt imagines#seventeen fanfic#chan fanfic#dino fanfic#svt fluff#svt angst
220 notes
·
View notes
Text
Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack:
@phoebe-delia asked in response to this fun lil ask game:
Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back? . (for the ask anything) Do you have any advice for getting out of a slump/getting writing confidence back?
Now THIS. This is a good question, and something that is very much on my mind and has been for a while, as I am currently absolutely in the midst of this and trying to army crawl my way out. I don't have any magic bullets (is that the saying? idk) but I have been here before and i do have a small arsenal of tips or methods that I find can help me.
Here is my Fuck I Can't Write Crisis Pack (In no particular order):
Write anything
This is hardly groundbreaking advice, and it's also the hardest thing to actually do (imo) so do not beat yourself up if it takes a while to get to this. Basically, write ANYTHING―it can be aimless, it can be pointless, it can be crap (crap is subjective!! don't let the brain gremlins win!!).
Don't think about posting it, don't worry about anyone else ever reading it, just fling a few words onto a page and feel the rusty faucet turn on, proving to yourself that it still works.
Try and sus out what it is that's blocking you
Again this one is hard and annoying but functional. Once you can put your finger on the particular reason you're staring at a flashing black line on a blank page it can help you kick that reason off your lawn and into the bin.
And then, take it out of the bin and be kind to yourself about whatever that reason is. Maybe you feel shit because you're comparing yourself to others, your last fic felt like a lead balloon, you can't muster enthusiasm for what you once loved doing and fear that it's gone forever, you're projecting in a Tumblr post―whatever it is, it's something all the writers you admire and aspire to be like have felt, and been annoyed with themselves for, and so you can wrap it up in a blanket and put it on a shelf and be kind to it so it, (respectfully) shuts the fuck up.
(and remember, everyone feels insecure about their stuff. Like literally everyone, at some stage, feels like their stuff is rubbish)
Cheat on your OTP
Okay this one might not work for everyone, but it really does for me lol. Ruts (not the sexy kind) can often come with not wanting to engage in my usual ships, being annoyed by my lack of ability to fucking write them/anything/all my ideas taste like cardboard/bleh, and stepping out on them and reading something new can snap me out of it. Just, an injection of new ideas or scenarios or words or even just a little reprieve from being fed up with myself, which ideally, is why we're all here anyway.
(And then I come crawling back, and am welcomed with open arms haha)
In a similar vein:
Engage in media
This subtitle is genuinely terrible, i am sorry, LMAO, but essentially: find a piece of media that makes you go "oh, helLO sailor", unhinge your jaw like a snake, and consume it whole.
Let it nourish you, inspire you, excite you, making you feel SOMETHING, and then take that and think "fuck, what if i wrote bleepbloopblarp" and even if you write nary a single word, you've thought about it and that fucking counts.
It might be an album, a book, a song, a show, gifs of a hot person, the wikipedia summary of a movie, literally anything counts here if it makes you feel a twinge of creativity.
Ask yourself, what would Astolat do?
No for real. @candybarrnerd and I genuinely use this haha.
Worried your idea is stupid? Astolat would say write it.
Worried it's too weird? Nah, just write it.
It's dumb and no one will read it? Just write it for you *waggles eyebrows* (and then find out that yeah, nah, someone else will absolutely read this and be real fucking happy about it haha.)
Worried you're a one trick pony and have already written this fic before, like, and not even once before, and also you're projecting again in Tumblr post? WRITE IT AGAIN! As Astolat once said, "it's a fic so nice, I wrote it thrice".
It's good advice.
Make a friend or lean hard on the ones you have here
Misery loves company because it knows they'll come out of this together :). I know, I know, that's fucking NAFF, but fandom is all about finding like-minded freaks and blowing up their DMs because you saw a gif and now feel a kind of ways about it.
And lastly:
FUCK STATS!
I mean I love stats (yay validation!), but god can they make you feel like a worthless shit (hey where did my validation go :((( ). It can be really insidious, so piss that right off when it starts to fuck with your confidence or outlook on your own writing.
Hopefully there is something useful here, even if it's just looking at this advice and thinking "no that's shit, it's writing POISON" cos then you can maybe do the version you think is NOT shit, and that might work.
Good luck, fellow travelers!!
#thank you for this ask#this turned into projected cathrsis but i hope this helps if you are possibly feeling in a slump!!#on fic#writing#writing advice#our lord and saviour astolat#shifty turns an innocent ask into a therapy session#also is there a fucking name for the flashing space bar line on a word doc LMFAO there has to be right?? i do not know what it is
216 notes
·
View notes
Note
Ok so
1. I’ve only ever read one book you wrote (So You Want To Be a Wizard) but it was very good and I love it. Big fan.
2. Both out of curiosity and on behalf of my sister, as a writer of Barbie Fairytopia, did you invent Bibble. Because my sister has Bibble as her Home Screen and my whole family had a conversation about Bibble yesterday.
Thank you. Ur books are cool.
Thank you! Glad you liked SYW... . 😊
Now, about Bibble (and a nod here to @the-best-of-the-geeks, who also inquired about this):
The answer is... maybe. At this end of time, it's hard to tell.
I took a few moments off from today's* graphic arts work to go digging in my archived project files. What I can see from a quick glance at them is that Bibble (or the character who'd eventually be Bibble: there were a lot of name changes throughout the writing process) doesn't appear in any of the drafts of the worldbuilding bible I wrote, or in other associated background material. If it had, that would've been—not absolute, but at least fairly strong circumstantial evidence—that I was the character's creator.
The problem is that when you're working on a big-IP project like this, there are so many people involved in the creative process that it can become really difficult to accurately trace any one character's or story element's "lineage". It's possible Bibble originated in a note to me from one of the creative team, which would have been one of hundreds of archived emails. Or it might have been something suggested to me in a phone conversation... of which there were many. Without sifting through all those emails (and please forgive me, that's not something I've got time for at the moment) it's tough to say.
What I am sure of is that Bibble definitely turned up on my watch. I have a premise file dated 30 December 2003 which does not contain the character, and then a second-draft premise dated 10 January 2004... in which, with a slightly different name, Bibble first appears. Bibble (as Bobble) is also in my first draft screenplay, which was turned in in early February 2004.
So that much, at least, we can be sure of. Bibble's personality and speech style is clearly spelled out in the script (as is the suggestion that Bibble be voiced by Frank Welker. It's a shame that didn't happen: I'm a huge fan of his).
But this still doesn't constitute proof that I invented the character. Bibble could very well have been suggested to me by someone else—and suggestions and notes are so free-flowing in a project like this that it's possible we'll just never know. (sigh) Such is life.
What I do want to emphasize here was how extremely pleasant this whole project was, from beginning to end. There are screenwriting projects that will make you shudder decades after the fact just on hearing their name. But there are others that unfailingly make you smile when someone mentions them... and this, for me, was one of those.
The giveaway of how much fun I was having lies in some stuff that happens in the script and would, to those unfamiliar with tropes in animation writing, look like nothing in particular. But a recurring joke among animation writers back then (and maybe still) was designating a character's speech as a walla. In this case, it means not just a description of some kind of crowd noise—the usual definition—but of that particular character making speechlike noises. It's the kind of thing you don't bother doing if you're not feeling playful. (Or at least I don't.)
...Anyway: hope this has helped, at least a little. :)
*This post was written at the very beginning of May 2023, around the time the WGA strike was starting. During the strike period I haven’t been comfortable with doing long posts about my screen work… but the strike’s over now. 😄 Thanks to @violet-yimlat and @the-best-of-the-geeks for being so patient.
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
seventeen as songs from eternal sunshine (ag)
a/n: like usual, i'll be giving songs and lyrics to each of the members, as well as small plots based on those lyrics. i don't plan to write all of these, but they are still my ideas (as basic as some of them might be). so if you are interested in writing one of them, you can message me about it. if you want to read one of them you can send in as ask or dm and i'll add it to my writing list
• Seungcheol ➝ true story
But I'll play whatever part you need me to
And I'll be good in it, too
↳ seungcheol was willing to do anything for you, even if it meant destroying himself
• Jeonghan ➝ saturn returns
Aha, it's time for you to get real about life and sort out who you really are
↳ Jeonghan always thought that life would be easier if he just stayed as he was, unmoving. Turns out that there was more to life than just that
• Joshua ➝ we can’t be friends
We can't be friends
But I'd like to just pretend
↳ you and joshua always traveled through the same friend groups but you were never really close to one another, mostly because you might have carried a crush on him for years. but when joshua suddenly decides that he wants to be friends, you don’t have it in you to say no
• Jun ➝ end of the world
Wonder if he’s thinkin’ ‘bout it too and smiling
Wonder if he knows that that’s been what's inspirin’ me
Wonder if he’s judging me like I am right now
↳ after a first date that went beyond expectations, you couldn't help but wonder if jun too felt those same butterflies when he thought about you
• Soonyoung ➝ eternal sunshine
I found a good boy and he’s on my side
You’re just my eternal sunshine, sunshine
↳ even after months after your break up, after you met someone new, you can’t help but think back to your relationship with soonyoung, and how you're sure you’ll never truly be able to move on from him, after all he was still your eternal sunshine
• Wonwoo ➝ i wish i hated you
our shadow dance in a parallel plane
Just two different endings
↳ looking from the outside, you and wonwoo are the same, but that couldn’t be further from the truth. in fact, you couldn't be further away from each other
• Jihoon ➝ Don’t Wanna Break Up Again
This situationship has to end
But I just can't refuse
I don't wanna break up again
↳ you know you have to get away from jihoon, but whenever he calls you’re ready to run toward him, even if it means breaking your own heart in the process
• Mingyu ➝ bye
Didn't think you'd lose me
Now it's just too late to choose me
↳ you’re tired of always being the second choice for Mingyu, maybe it’s time for you to become your first option
• Seokmin ➝ supernatural
This love's possessin' me, but I don't mind at all
It's taking over me, don't wanna fight the fall
↳ you knew that you were falling way too deep for seokmin, but there was no way you’d ever try to catch yourself before you hit the ground
• Vernon ➝ yes, and?
Now, I’m so done with caring
What you think, no, I won't hide
Underneath your projections
Or change my most authentic life
↳ throughout all of his life, vernon heard about how uncommon and weird his interests were, so in order to fit in more easily, he did his best to hide the odd away, but he was done doing that, especially when all it did was keep you away from him.
• Seungkwan ➝ ordinary things
It’s funny, but it's true
There's never going to be an ordinary thing
As long as I'm with you
↳ life with Seungkwan was always extraordinary, he made sure of that
• Chan ➝ the boy is mine
Promise you I'm not usually
Like this, shit, it's like news to me, to me
But I can't ignore my heart, boy
↳ you had always been chill and your relationship with had never been labeled, so at times it was hard to pinpoint where you stood, but one day, at a particular party, when a particular girl showed up, you couldn't help but be jealous
if you enjoyed reading, please reblog and leave a comment, it really does mean the world to me and i would love to know your thoughts. thank you! 💕
if you want to be tagged in my next fics, please fill out this form
↣ masterlist
taglist: @wonwooz1, @ryuwonieebae, @sobun1est, @mirtaspace, @ho34gojo, @feat-sun, @wonvsmile, @belladaises, @mhlsymlysn, @swinterr, @immabecreepin, @uniq-tastic, @miriamxsworld, @aaniag, @byunparklimchoi, @k-drama-adict, @maiamorrrrrrrrrrrr, @yeeyoop0206, @tomodachiii, @ignoretheskies, @roguesthetic, @sofix-hc7, @scarlet789, @pluviophile-xxx, @moonlightgrleric, @r6njunlv, @mixling-blog, @cinnamongirl127, @haowonbins, @valgracia, @slut4donghyuck, @manutuankim, @shuabby1994, @anthropologymajorkpopmultistan, @sukiscones, @plumings, @shuasdrafts, @aaa-sia, @bouclesdefeu, @dreamsbloomout, @hyangg11, @maewhore, @blurrr3db3rry, @sea-moon-star, @roguesthetic, @writingbarnes, @strawberryroseee, @lovely-ficsfor-me, @lixisoul99, @jjeongddol, @whoa-jo, @poiibbtt, @seokqt, @itsmeaudrieee, @palmsugr, @hyneyedfiz
#svthub#k-labels#svt fanfic#seventeen imagine#svt smut#seventeen fanfic#svt imagine#choi seungcheol#yoon jeonghan#hong joshua#moon junhui#kwon soonyoung#jeon wonwoo#lee jihoon#xu minghao#lee seokmin#kim mingyu#chwe hansol#boo seungkwan#lee chan#ariana grande#scoups#jeonghan#joshua#jun#hoshi#wonwoo#woozi#dokyeom#minghao
65 notes
·
View notes
Note
Curious if you'd say you've ever seen a superhero work that genuinely deserved the alt-history genre classifier, and otherwise at what point its even possible to use it vs going 'this has decades of in-universe history but doesn't deserve to be called alt-history for [REASONS]'
Only one I can think of off-hand that has enough granulated timeline-development would be Wild Cards, but curious if you think others qualify and/or if you think WC doesn't qualify
I can't really comment on Wild Cards extensively (haven't read that much of it) but I can comment on a few other works. To briefly be the guy who talks about the same three works all the time:
Watchmen I think totally qualifies- Nixon is on his fifth term, electric cars are ubiquitous due to Dr. Manhattan's ability to synthesize lithium, Vietnam is the 51st state, the zeitgeist is consumed by pirate comics, and everyone in New York got murdered by a giant fake squid. And superheroes are real.
Unfortunately I also have to note that The Boys flirted with this; among other things, superheroic "intervention" resulted in the Brooklyn Bridge getting destroyed during 9/11, Prescott Bush and some of the other Business plot guys got wiped out during an attempted superheroic field test in World War 2, The War on Terror is being fought primarily in Pakistan, and Dakota Bob is president because George Bush Jr. killed himself playing with a chainsaw. The fact that none of this really pans out into a tangibly different society is deliberate, as part of the comic's drumbeat that superheroes, while roundly bad, also fundamentally don't matter, and are at best able to make things bad in different ways without really changing the shape of the structures that produced them.
Worm is in kind of a weird spot here- it objectively is an alternate history, countless things are different, whole nations are gone, we see a lot of alterations to the culture- but it gives limited airtime to a lot of the specifics of how things got to where they are, beyond the broad clusterfuck generated by the parahumans. To some extent, the fact that the world is radically different is downplayed until the back half because society at the start of the story is Stepford-smiling through an immanent apocalypse- and, you know, the immanent apocalypse is ultimately kind of the relevant difference from our world. But on the whole, I doubt there's a really tight worldbuilding document documenting all the ripple effects on the dramatis personae of history. The story's pretty vague about, for example, what the American presidential lineup has been since Reagan, what electoral politics look like in a world of Capes. It's vague about basically everything else in that nitty-gritty, concrete-details vein.
I do think that all of these, Worm in particular, highlight a major issue you're gonna run into when trying to do alternate universe stuff with capes, and it's that, first of all, doing really robust, thoughtful and fleshed-out alternate history is already really fucking hard, requiring a strong command of the history and culture of maybe up to the entire world, depending on the scope of your project- and superhero stuff already suffers from really strong American provincialism, so the depictions can get stupid fast if you aren't careful. Then on top of that the nature of the cape genre is that you're going to be following a pretty pared-down central cast; authorial and audience bandwidth will be tied up with what's going on with these specific guys over the course of their story, which can get in the way of a birds-eye view of their world, unless you're specifically structuring the story in a way to dodge that issue (which, you know, I get the impression Wild Cards did.)
I also think a commonality in the above works is that a lot of the alt-history changes are instrumental, included not as the result of the author trying to hyper specifically model falling dominoes from a specific point of change, but because they help the work to make its point. I doubt Alan Moore has a one-hundred-page forum thread detailing the fallout of America winning the Vietnam War, but such a thing would be beside the point- which is that God being an American Agent would fuck shit up geopolitically, regardless of the specifics. I mean a lot of this is vibes-based already, right? In objective terms the MCU has been an alternate history for years, but it doesn't claim that label, doesn't market itself as such, so it isn't. I think it comes down to whether you decide to wear that outfit on the runway, and how well it hangs on you once you've opened yourself to judgement on those grounds.
#thoughts#meta#anyway if a World War Z style mockumentary about the superhuman age doesn't exist I'm gonna have to write it#ask#asks#worm#watchmen#parahumans#the boys
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
Do you think Al likes to cook? Like the recipes are his one reminder of a human life he can still experience and has control over
But the man is a cannibal. If he ever decides to fondly cook these meals for the hotel, there is a non 0 chance they just don't trust it and scap it to the side. That would hurt.
If someone really wanted to mess with him, they could swap out his meals last second. Have him think he made his mother's jambalaya, but it tastes nothing like he remembers. Then play the "maybe you're starting to forget her recipes" card.
I want to see this man break
I like to see Alastor as the kind of person that values hard work, including housework and cooking, and I think it's supported by canon when he proffers the fact that he fished Niffty out of a toilet as a reason he's better than Lucifer in Hell's Greatest Dad rather than being embarrassed that he was fishing around in toilets while trying to get one up on the bougie-ass literal king of hell. I see a lot of fics portraying him as cooking for the hotel, as well as getting other maintenance and logistics tasks done, and I always really like that vibe. Also, he probably likes to butcher his own meat, if you know what I mean, haha.
That said, as someone who cooks a lot, I think it's really immediately evident when the thing you've performed the creation of from step "raw ingredients" has in any visible way been fucked with or replaced, so I think he'd know right away what was going on if that happened. I also think Charlie is way too nice and pro-acceptance to let people outright scrap his food even if it did in fact have people in it, nevermind if he claimed it didn't, especially if he said he made his mother's favorite recipe for the hotel residents. No matter how much Vaggie protests.
I admittedly lean towards a much more comedic take on this particular aspect of Alastor's character, because I think it's really funny to take objectively deranged concepts like "cannibalism" and project them into banal housemate cohabitation issues a la "Alastor is now required to thoroughly label all of his non-"vegan" food in separate tupperware containers because of The Cassoulet Incident."
Well, that, and the disordered eating angst I'm always a sucker for when I decide that Alastor can't derive nutrition in hell from non-cannibalistic sources, but that's a whole nother thing, ehehe.
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
You should try to go see public works Tempest in central park, it’s really incredible and reminded me of the city we became. It’s super insane and beautiful and wild and hard to describe, so even though it’s insane to ask someone to go stand in line all day to see a play based off a random tumblr message I really think you should!
Oooh, I haven't done the line for Shakespeare in the Park in years. Not sure I still have it in me, since it requires getting up at 3 or 4 am and spending hours fighting line-jumpers and so on. But I've been hearing good things about this year's Tempest so maybe I'll muster up the energy. Thanks for the recommendation!
Since you reminded me of it, here's a deleted scene/alternate opening I once wrote for THE WORLD WE MAKE. I decided on a different opening for the final version, obvs, but maybe you'll enjoy what might have been. Cutting because long.
He's just a man standing on a rooftop. The outfit he's wearing is bespoke, by a Harlem tailor who came in second on Project Runway's last season. The jacket is rich brown suede, fine-stitched, over olive-tan pants and a piqué shirt of deepest royal indigo, and he's wearing the hell out of it. If there were anyone around to see, they'd think he was a model, standing in the kind of casual-at-attention pose that only men in magazine photo shoots ever do, with one hand in a pocket and his gaze thoughtfully locked on the cityscape horizon. The model aesthetic is reinforced by the fact that he's got a lean, strong figure and the kind of racial ambiguity that Hollywood diversity advocates love: brown skin that's not too brown, lips full enough to be either natural or recent collagen injections, thick eyebrows that are as sculpted as his cheekbones, eyes with just enough epicanthic fold to qualify as "exotic" but not in like an ethnic way.
He's not a model. He's just Manhattan, human representative of New York's contributions to the fashion, media, and sex work industries. He's not even trying particularly hard to look good. He has simply stopped resisting what comes naturally.
But he's about to be late for work -- and while New York custom permits a degree of conspicuous tardiness as a social power move in certain situations, this particular job is too personally important to him for such games. So he steps up onto the low wall that surrounds the roof, and then he steps off.
It's fine. The building is twelve stories tall; anything over five stories is required to have an elevator per city ordinance. He's been practicing, too, so all he has to do is shut his eyes and imagine, and the city's power holds him aloft in midair as solidly as if he's stepping onto flooring. (He is; it's just flooring that exists in several other iterations of his universe.) Even with this, however, he makes sure to take a step or two forward before calmly turning away from the cityscape. People don't usually stare at the back of an elevator, after all -- and verisimilitude is key. "First floor, please," he murmurs. In earlier days of the city, building elevators were a complicated luxury that required trained staff to operate. In current days of the city, many elevators run on voice activation. At Manhattan's request, there is an electronic ping of acknowledgement, followed by a very faint echo of blended, long-vanished voices: "Watch the door, please, watch your hands, going down." Then he begins to descend. It's smooth, slow; this is only a mid-sized building, not modern or expensive enough to have an express elevator. Only the fact that he's descending through thin air makes it odd.
Just above the sidewalk his descent slows, letting him drift to a gentle halt. There are a few dozen people on the street in this moment, and some of them notice as he just stands there for a moment, letting the metaphysical aethers settle and the metaphorical elevator doors open. The ones who stare are tourists. New Yorkers generally don't react to strangeness, but they do notice it, if only to shake their heads and murmur "This fucking city," to themselves before moving on. Manhattan catches the eye of one of the starers, winks and smiles, then strides off down the street.
As he walks, he hums John Coltrane's "Central Park West" -- not for power this time, but simply because he's walking along Central Park West and likes the song. It's also a beautiful day. Here at the heart of the city it is clear that autumn encroaches: Central Park is across the street, dense with color-shifting trees. Their whispers speak to the part of Manhattan that was more, once, than just concrete and cars; the island has always been here, after all, crossroads for many peoples, and those millennia of commerce were enough to form the building blocks of the living entity that it is now. But mostly, he just likes that rustling sound, and the flickers of color and movement, and the faint whiff of chemical sugars forming and breaking down within the leaves. Something about that scent, and the wind's occasional brisk sharpness, speaks to him.
There is the lightest of touches upon the part of him that is more than a man. Just a ping, to get his attention. "You wanna focus, or you gonna just keep spacing out about the pretty pretty trees, Mr. I Was Bebop Before It Was Cool?"
They've all figured out that words work better than thoughts. They are one city, the six of them, and if they ever need to, they can function as a single brain and heart and will -- but doing that is as overwhelming as it is thrilling. New York isn't supposed to be any single thing, see; the distinct characters of its boroughs are part of its strength. More personally, Manny's probably never going to be super-comfortable with letting his fellow parts of the city into his head, because he's got enough going on in there already.
But he's right in reminding Manny to focus. "Just getting into the spirit," Manny replies, waiting for a gap in the traffic before trotting across the street. Then he vaults the low stone wall around the edge of the park. It's a twelve-foot drop beyond, but he manages it easily enough, landing in a crouch in a wooded thicket already carpeted in red and gold leaves. Doesn't even make his knees twinge. Nothing can hurt New York, in New York, except New York.
Well. And one other thing.
He moves forward at a brisk Midtown pace, pushing aside the branches of small trees as gently as he can so as not to damage them. He starts finding white tendrils almost immediately. Just small patches here and there: three wigglers on a broad, still-green sycamore leaf, one on the tree's gnarling roots nearby. A patch shaped like a handprint growing atop a hooded garbage can; that one's especially nasty, positioned as it is to infect anyone who actually tries to deposit their litter in the can instead of just tossing it somewhere. "Rude," Manny murmurs. He's getting rid of the patches as he passes them, just by touching the wood or ground or metal near each cluster and letting a little of "Central Park West" riff through his mind and down his arm and out through his fingers. Earworms can be handy. Good for killing other wormlike things.
(Not so long ago, it would have taken everything Manny had to get rid of these things. He had to replace all his credit cards after symbolically buying all the real estate around a particular rock in Inwood Park. Now, however, the city is whole -- and these tendrils, tenacious as they are, are tourists from another urban locale who've overstayed their welcome. It's easy to obliterate them, but it's more important to find the bus they came in on, and deal with that.)
"Red alert!" says Padmini -- Queens -- suddenly. She tugs on the shared part of their consciousness, projecting an image onto it that is stunning in its precision: a three-dimensional and topographical map, with a moving cursor at its center and a GPS coordinate meter in the bottom corner. Padmini abruptly zooms them in on the cursor, and then she presents them with a simplified view through her own eyes.
There, jolting slightly as Padmini runs, is their quarry. To most other people in Central Park, the young man who slips down a leaf-thick hill and then scrabbles his way over a tumbled, mossy pile of bedrock is just another cross-country runner, or maybe a parkour practitioner with a greater love of natural settings than most. He's a lanky Indian-looking guy, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt -- but through the lens of Padmini's vision, Manny sees the rest. The guy's got patches of white fronds all over him, and as he runs they waft back like long hair which just happens to be growing from his forearms and shins and ass. Manny's used to this, people who look like yeti crabs, however horrible it is. Far worse is the tendril which projects from the back of the young man's neck, thick and veined in a disturbingly umbilical way, forming a long white cord which twists up and out of sight amid the trees. It stretches up into the sky, Manny knows from three months' experience, attenuating until it disappears from human eyesight with distance -- but wending southward before it does. They all know where that cable terminates.
"Mike check," says Veneza, and Manny's mental eye shifts to her view. She's standing under one of the park's stone bridges, her vision bouncing a little as she crouches to stretch out her ankles. Getting ready to run. Manny feels her excitement as the tendril-covered man comes into view, jogging over a grassy hill covered in early-afternoon sunbathers. But who's he kidding? They all enjoy this. "That's it. Come to mamãe. Drive him like a li'l doggie on the range, Queeny McQueenyface."
"I can't believe you mixed like three metaphors in ten seconds," Padmini replies -- but she zigs left, across one of the roads of the park. Manny catches his breath as she veers into a bike lane, because Central Park bikers all think they're in the Tour de France, but in the same moment he feels her latch into the bikers' sense of hurry and entitlement, drawing their power into her legs. Her pace speeds up sharply, until she's nearly flying down a sloping sidewalk, veering now and again to move around walkers and a small crowd near a pretzel vendor.
"That's the Jersey in me. Metaphors are our pork roll."
"Your what?"
"Pork roll. Look it -- wait, shit, hang on."
Tendril man has seen Veneza and stopped, halfway down the grassy hill. It's eerie to Manny how still he is. After all the running and climbing he's done, he should be out of breath, shoulders heaving, dripping sweat, but he isn't. It's just like the other cases of this they've encountered in the past few weeks; they're running on something other than human power. These tendril-people aren't avatars, however; they're more like drones, sent forth by some other malevolent consciousness and endowed with supernatural power only temporarily, and for their task. And if they don't catch this poor guy before that power gets done using him -- Well. Manny picks up the pace.
Padmini skids to a halt. (A man nearby does a double-take, then nods in a grudgingly impressed way at her athleticism.) "Shit. He's going to bolt, isn't he?"
In lieu of any reply, they all see Tendril Man bolt. He jumps off the steeper side of the rocky hill -- a ten-foot drop; Manny really hopes the poor guy was in shape before he got drafted as a spectral conduit for a hostile extradimensional essence, or he's going to feel that in the morning. Then Tendril Man takes off, moving with truly impressive speed up a paved hill-path.
"FUCK," two of them think. (Manny doesn't curse, but he empathizes.) They all take off running too.
Tendril Man is running toward a big, round building at the top of the hill. Its vendor doors are shut and there are only a few people hanging around near it, but abruptly he zigs toward a big wooden gate labeled PERFORMER ENTRANCE -- and vaults it, with the ease of a master gymnast. Manny might be able to think of a way over it too, if he gives himself a minute; surely there is some quintessentially cityish concept, like elevators for tall buildings, that he can harness to grant himself the ability to jump like that. In the fluster of the moment, however, he can't think of anything. Gotta work on that, do better at having a "jumping" construct ready to go under duress.
In lieu of leaping, however, he manages to remember the grating sound of garbage trucks barrelling down the street at oh dark thirty in the morning, usually with wonky transmissions and brakes that screech loudly enough to set off car alarms. Manny's seen several of them scrape or bang into cars without bothering to stop -- and so he draws into himself the desperate need to hurry and finish a shift, the hulking size and diesel-fueled strength of the trucks, the cheerful pragmatism of the tough workers who chuck heavy bags and kick rats with unflappable equanimity. And as Manny runs at the gate, the world blurs a little and an eyewatering stench surrounds him, and he finds it almost impossible to care about collateral damage because he's got a job to do, come on, come on, let's go...
He remembers enough of himself to dip his shoulder a little as he hits the gate. It only looks like wood; underneath, there's plenty of metal, and he sees that the gate has an electronic number-lock. Probably pretty solid. But his supernaturally-powered shoulder smashes the gate wide open, actually cracking the whole frame in half, too, and part of the fence beyond it.
Oops. Well, he'll make a donation on the website, because now that he's through the gate he sees: THE DELACOURTE THEATER WELCOMES YOU TO SHAKESPEARE IN THE PARK.
Tendril Guy is running down the steps of what Manny now sees is a huge open-air amphitheater. He leaps again, a pretty impressive standing jump onto the stage -- and then he stops abruptly. There's a set being deconstructed here; Shakespeare in the Park only runs during the summer months, so someone's in the middle of stripping gigantic rolls of fake grass off the stage floor. And now, from within a huge prop built to look like a small apartment building, the avatar of New York steps forth to confront their enemy.
He's calling himself "Neek," these days -- a phonetic pronunciation of the initials for New York City. He hasn't told them his real name. Manny's not sure it matters anyway; doesn't Manny, of all people, understand that they are no longer who they were? The knowledge and joy and danger of eight million people has found its focus in Neek, and like any of their fellow great cities, this makes him strange. São Paulo was the same, whenever Manny had time and peace enough to study him: a young-old man who radiated urbane cynicism and eerie wisdom all at once. Hong Kong too. Maybe this is the difference between those who represent boroughs or neighborhoods, and those who are whole cities in themselves.
Or maybe it's just Neek. "Yo, man, take a breath," he says to Tendril Guy, as he slouches out of shadow. "Touch some, uh, astroturf. You keep letting that shit run you, won't be anything of you left."
Tendril Guy immediately turns to run, but by this point Manny has reached the other side of the stage. Veneza is in the ampitheater, trotting toward them from the other direction, and from somewhere backstage they can hear Padmini cursing and shoving something heavy aside, because apparently backstage is a mess amid the set breakdown. Unless Tendril Guy can fly -- and Manny puts nothing past the Woman in White -- then he's got nowhere left to run.
It's a dangerous time, though. In the past, whenever they've cornered one of her minions... Tendril Guy backs up, looks around, starts to get tense. Manny tries to think up a construct, and finds himself looking around. At the stage.
Neek's gaze flicks to him, and the little smile on his face widens.
"Two cities," he declares suddenly, spreading his arms wide and raising his voice. The Delacourte's acoustics are perfect, of course, designed to facilitate an outdoors theatrical performance. "Both alike in dignity! In fair Manhattan where we lay our scene."
Of course the theater absorbs this slightly-fudged homage, echoes it, amplifies it, and sends back a reverberation of energy: the faint murmurs and anticipation of a crowd, a lilt of music from a nonexistent orchestra. For just a fleeting moment Manny can almost see the suggestion of bodies in the amphitheater seats, shadowy heads that turn to each other or crane their necks or flip through Playbills. Ready to be enraptured.
Manny finds himself grinning -- but then he panics a little as Neek raises his eyebrows pointedly, because Manny doesn't have any Shakespeare memorized. But Broadway is only a few dozen blocks away; maybe he can use that instead? He sifts quickly through the grab-bag of random quotes in his head. Can't think of an actual line from an actual play, but it's a direct reference, so he clears his throat awkwardly and sings: "They say the neon lights are bright on Broadway. There might be city magic in the air."
Stage lights, multihued but mostly white, appear above the seats. The lights aren't real. Manny can see most of the lighting equipment disassembled and stacked up to one side of the stage. Tendril Guy flinches suddenly and violently, staggering back. Steam rises as Tendril Guy raises his arms defensively, the tendrils on him whipping and hissing wildly as the city's light begins to burn them away.
They have to keep it going. Veneza giggles and runs down the steps, leaping to a crouch as if she's acting out some play or another, and sings, "Now is the time to seize the day! Answer the call and don't delay! New York can be righted, boroughs united; let us seize the day!" In response, loose cables curled on one side of the stage suddenly come to life, whipping around Tendril Guy's legs to keep him from running again.
One of the doors on the prop building slams open dramatically. Beyond it they can see Padmini pushing aside a rack of clothing that persistently keeps trying to roll toward her. She manages it, stumbles out, and glowers around at all of them. Veneza gestures frantically for her to take up the thread; Neek spreads his hands too in the universal sign of Come on, hurry up. Finally, with a little growl, Padmini snaps, "Oh, fine. 'Immigrants: We get the job done!'" This doesn't seem to have any effect at first, but then Padmini shoves a large, heavy-looking wooden desk out of the way with ease; she's much stronger, now. Enough to get this job done.
As performances go, it's all terrible. Slapdash, random, corny; Manny won't be surprised if in the morning they all receive a clipped-out review from a theater magazine that exists only in some alternate reality, panning all of them for defiling the stage. But as a construct, drawing on the power of three boroughs and the delight of a thousand audiences, from the Delacourte to the Fringe Festival and back, it's exactly what they need.
Then, his voice muffled by his own extradimensional growths, Manny hears Tendril Guy -- or maybe the guy within the pelt of tendrils -- try to speak. "A-all the w-world..." he murmurs, his voice thick, too deep, flanged in a way that sounds like bad special effects. He's steaming all over, now. Ah, and at last Manny sees the tendrils burning away, peeling off and curling into nothingness. As he lowers his arms, Manny sees that he's sweaty-faced and visibly exhausted... but he is smiling. He turns to face the whispering, flickering audience, and all at once Manny can feel him. Tendril Guy is part of New York, again -- and he knows it, and some part of his soul rejoices with the knowledge. Probably helps that the guy is a former theater kid himself; Manny can feel that, now that the Enemy's influence has been broken. Neek grins at Manny; he can feel it, too.
So then Neek goes over to Tendril Guy, leans close, and blows on the now-shriveled cord attached to the back of his neck. It snaps free as if Neek's breathed fire onto it, uttering a faint creel of inhuman pain -- and then the cord is snatched away upwards, into the darkening evening sky. Manny catches a fleeting hint of sinuous movement against the clouds, southward, and then it is gone.
Tendril Guy, who is now just Some Guy, beams at Neek. Then he steps back and lifts a finger. "All the world's a stage," he says again -- clearly this time, in a pleasant baritone, projecting with the ease of long practice. "And all the men and women merely players! They have their exits and their entrances, and one man in his time plays many parts, his acts being seven ages."
He does the whole monologue then, perfectly. Not that Manny would know if he got it right -- but the Delacourte does, and as Manny glances out at their whispery audience, he sees smiles, hears soft "ahs" and giggles of approval with every precisely-enunciated line. As Some Guy finishes, applause breaks out, echoing with unreality but loud and enthusiastic. The artist formerly known as Tendril Guy beams in delight and extends his hands for Manny and Neek to take. They do. Padmini, her pique fading now that she's no longer fighting furniture, shakes her head and takes Neek's hand; Veneza giggles and runs up the steps to take Manny's. The applause goes on as, uh, Theater Guy leads them in first one bow, and then another. Someone in the audience whistles. Someone else yells "Encore!" It's intoxicating. They bow a third time. As at last the applause fades and the lights start to go dark... Theater Guy collapses, between them.
"Oh, no," Veneza says, her delight vanishing. "Please, not again -- "
"He's fine," Manny says, crouching by Theater Guy, though he checks Theater Guy's neck-pulse and breathing just to be sure. It's there, though the guy's skin is clammy with sweat.
"Close," Neek says. He's looking up at the sky, after the ugly cable that had been attached to the guy's neck.
It's only the second time that they've successfully rescued one of these agents of the Woman in White, sent forth from her bastion in Staten Island to... well, Manny's not exactly sure what their purpose is. Are they superspreaders meant to reinfect the city, and thus help her regain the foothold that she lost three months before? Are they drones of a sort, reconnoitering enemy territory? Either way, the result is always the same, if Manny and his fellow avatars don't catch the tendril-bearer and cleanse them in time: the person burns out and dies, all of their strength used up by the alien intelligence that has worn them like a puppet.
Not this time, though. "Let's get him outside," Manny says, grunting as he pulls Theater Guy up. "Easier for an ambulance to get to him out there."
"But what about after?" Padmini asks. She comes over to help him wrestle the guy into a sitting position, so that Manny can pull him into a fireman's carry. "Uff, he's heavy! But if somebody calls his family and they take him back to Staten Island, will she just take him over again? What if she's mad at him for getting caught by us?"
"It's fine," Neek says. He's still turned away from them, facing southward. There is an odd note in his voice, however, which makes Manny frown at his back. Neek sounds... distracted. "Most of the folks on Staten are fine. The ones who commute here lose their little wigglers when they step off the ferry, unless they've got one of those bigger cable-things attached to them. Grow 'em back on the after-work ride. They don't even notice."
"Remember what it was like when she was all over the city," Manny adds. "All those people she... infected. She used them if she needed them and ignored them otherwise. They became part of her, but they didn't seem to mean anything to her, any more than..." He shakes his head, to the degree that he can with Theater Guy on his shoulders. "Individual hairs on a person's head. How often do we notice when we lose one, or when it grows back?"
"We shouldn't let him go back at all," Padmini says, scowling. "We know she's doing something to all those people. He's safer here!"
Neek focuses enough to turn and eye her over his shoulder. His tone is mild and his expression neutral, but his words have a sharp point. "You gonna spring for an apartment for him somewhere? Let him go crash with ya auntie and the fam?"
"No, but -- "
"I know a good spot under the Williamsburg." Neek's relentless. "Probably still good even with all the cleanup and construction since the bridge broke. Warm on cold nights, hard to see so the kids and assholes don't fuck with you. We could dump him there."
Padmini sets her jaw. "Fine. Point made. But Staten Islanders are still people, and we should try to help them."
Veneza, who was peering into the orchestra pit in fascination, turns back to them, plainly uneasy at the tension she's picking up. "We are. But I mean, Pads... that's not really our job."
Now they all fall into an uncomfortable silence, because sometimes the truth is hard. And the truth is that the avatar of Staten Island is not here with them today because she has rejected them, and thrown her people to the interdimensional wolves by doing so. They are all of them New York... but they are not Staten Island, not anymore. Theater Guy's ultimate fate isn't theirs to make.
"Ay yo fuck that bird," Neek says, scowling at Veneza, who blinks in surprise. "Her and Squigglebitch tried to kill us, remember? Tried to eat you. Let Staten Island die."
Padmini stares at him. "Wait. What? Let a whole borough die? Are you crazy?"
"Fuck them." Neek gestures sharply, southward. "Everyone on Staten Island. Buncha racist redneck Republican dumbasses, nobody needs them. They're the reason she's still here, hanging over this city like a fucking guillotine. I'm tired of stressing about this shit! Let her flyover country ass die with the rest of them nobody-nothing sons of bitches."
Manny flinches, despite himself. That's beyond harsh. And something about this little rant feels... off. He's known Neek for all of three months, but in that time Neek has been a quiet and low-key leader of their group, unusually even-keeled for the personification of a city known for its aggression. Are you okay? rises to Manny's lips, but he refrains from saying it, aware that it could sound patronizing. He's wondering it, though.
All at once different lights snap on within the theater -- not stage lights, but all the rest. Padmini frowns at this. "Hey, we don't need these anymore. Which one of you -- "
Abruptly a piercing electronic alarm sounds throughout the theater, and the lights all turn a startling, awful red.
"What the shit?" Neek says. He blinks as if dazed, turning to stare up at the lights -- and then he stiffens. "Manny. You doing that?"
Manny can barely hear him over the noise. "No, why would I? Can't you stop it?" Neek is New York. He has better control over the city's power than any of them... but all of a sudden, the city feels strange. Sluggish and reluctant, when Manny gently urges it to shut off the alarm. It's responsive, but unreliable and slow in a way Manny's never noticed before.
And to Manny's surprise, Neek takes a step back, his very posture radiating unease. "I... can't. Nothing's happening. What the fuck." He shakes his head.
"Yo, uh, we should go," Veneza says, bouncing nervously on the balls of her feet. "If that's a break-in alarm -- I mean, we did break in, but -- "
The Delacourte sits the middle of Central Park, in one of the city's toniest neighborhoods, and is the site of one of its most popular attractions. "Out," Manny snaps, when it becomes clear that Neek has been so thrown by the situation that he's not reacting quickly enough. "Now."
Veneza's already moving, running to the edge of the stage. Manny follows her as quickly as he can with Theater Guy, and Padmini grabs Neek, dragging him along when he doesn't move fast enough. "Cover your faces!" she cries -- and, yeah, if the city's magic suddenly isn't helping them anymore, that's a good idea. But Manny can't, unless he wants to drop Theater Guy, who's been through enough.
There are people milling around in front of the Delacourte, mostly looky-loos reacting to the continuous beeeeeeep of the alarm, but Manny sees how many of them have smartphones in hand. It can't be helped. He crouches and carefully sets Theater Guy on a patch of soft grass, and catches the eye of an older lady who is staring at all of them. "Call 911," he says, with as much urgency as he can. They can't stop people from filming them fleeing the scene of an apparent break-in, but maybe the sight of someone in distress will distract most of the onlookers. "This man is hurt and needs an ambulance. I don't know what happened to him, he just collapsed."
The lady gasps and starts punching at her phone. Veneza grabs Manny, tugging so he'll leave Theater Guy there on the ground. He doesn't want to. If the cops arrive first, there's a strong chance they'll arrest Theater Guy for the break-in. If he could just make sure the paramedics arrive first, and that the cops think the alarm is just a mechanical error... He touches the ground next to his knee and reaches into it, groping for the feel of city power --
He finds echoes of old audience frustration and annoyed staff and prematurely shutdown vendor services... but these energies will not move in response to his will. What's there feels different from all the other times he's ever used city power -- clotted, somehow.
"Dude," Veneza says, giving him a hard yank. They can hear sirens outside the park, coming closer. "Come on, man, I ain't doing Rikers for you!"
Grinding his teeth in frustration, Manny lets Veneza pull him away. They book it for Central Park West again, zigging southward first since there are woods and rock hills in that direction that can obscure their route for anyone trying to put them on TMZ.
In their wake, the Delacourte's alarm blares until sirens drown it out.
TWWM Deleted Scene 1 by N. K. Jemisin is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 4.0 International License.
102 notes
·
View notes
Note
Have u ever posted your comic or animation workflow anywhere? Im super curious on how you tackle the process, especially not using a drawing tablet. I know you have a very simple (and adorable) style so that probably helps in terms of workflow -- Im just curious about the steps you take.
Thank you! With both comics and animation my key thing is to not spend too much time on any particular thing, just draw loose and fast. Honestly the only downside to drawing with a mouse is that I can tell my arm has extremely specific muscle memory regarding it- if my mouse breaks and I get a new one I have to spend a good month or so just letting my hand get used to it again lol. Same with if my setup gets readjusted too much- right now my setup is my mouse on one of those padded mousepads, on top of 2 books, with my elbow resting on my 3DS case (I'll get an actual pillow or something for it eventually lol). But luckily thanks to this I suffer very minimal wrist pain 👍
(...Okay I started to go really in depth in my process here, so sorry if this is way more than what you were asking. Putting it under a readmore just to save space lol)
With MFM in particular, I start by writing out the entire script for the next story arc, which really is just all of the dialogue and vague notes about any important actions. Then I do the paneling with very loose stick-figure like sketches of where the characters are and what they're doing. I prefer having very little planning when it comes to character poses and panel shapes, coming up with those on the fly makes things much more exciting and faster to make. But it's the opposite with dialogue... it needs to be 100% FINAL before I draw a single line lol.
That's part of my script for my most recent chapter, as well as what my extremely loose goofy thumbnail sketching is like. I write the script as one big thing and don't separate it into pages until I actually start drawing- then I go and color change it just to keep track of what dialogue goes on each page
After that, I go back and do the ACTUAL sketch, as well as the lettering (I don't believe this is how it's done professionally. I used to do lettering as the very last step in the process... but then found it hard to cram speech bubbles in the right places lmao.) After that is lineart, coloring, background flat colors, then shading/rendering for all of it. I do each step in batches, as in I sketch out ALL pages of a chapter before moving to lineart, I line ALL pages before starting coloring, etc. I find it way easier to be productive when it's broken up like that, though when I first started the comic I used to draw each page to completion before starting the next (but also, the comic's style was DRASTICALLY simpler back then haha)
(Unfortunately I merged some of the shading to the background flat colors so it's not entirely accurate... oops) FireAlpaca has a sand texture feature that I only found out about last year- adding that to the backgrounds makes them look 10x better with WAY less effort.
With animation, it depends on the project. For simple 5-10 second animation I make for fun, there's very little planning lol. I skip some steps in the process- I'll sketch out the keyframes (and maybe any difficult inbetweens if necessary), line those, then go straight into making linework inbetweens. I'm not a cleanup artist and have no experience in that, so I always find trying to line my rough animation makes everything jittery and wobbly. If I do it with a clean line from the start then I can avoid that and save a lot of time 👍
For my bigger projects (such as the Parvey cartoon and the MFM Kickstarter trailer), I do the whole animatic with final audio first and foremost, with the animatic being almost like the keyframes. I split them up into individual shots, .mp4 files anywhere between 1-30 seconds usually, and animate those one at a time. I'm a huge fan of free to use programs and try to use them as much as I possibly can, here's a list of the ones I use:
FireAlpaca- for the actual drawing part itself (storyboarding/animating/etc). FireAlpaca has a feature that lets you export every frame as it's own drawing, as well as an onion skin mode
Windows Movie Maker- for compiling all of those frames into video format, creating individual shots. If you upload all of your frames and set them to around 0.08 seconds, it equals about 12fps (I usually animate at 0.10 seconds/10fps, its a bit slower but looks nice)
Onlinesequencer.net- for making music. It's the place I've made all of my songs on, like the timeloop song, hyperworkaholic, and the background music for the MFM Kickstarter trailer.
Audacity- for editing audio/music. Also great for recording things directly from your desktop
DaVinci Resolve- for editing and putting together all of the shots into one big video. Can get kind of intensive on the computer during rendering, so watch out.
YouCut (app)- also for editing and compiling shots, I used this one a lot a couple years back but I'm not sure how well it holds up. Doesn't need much phone storage to download but needs a lot to render videos.
MS Paint (yes really)- for typing up text. FireAlpaca has a text option but I don't like it as much as Paint's.
...The only thing I genuinely can't do alone is voice acting. Luckily there's a big voice acting community on Twitter and they're all amazing to work with!
This got... way more in depth than I planned for it to be, so sorry if this is way more than what you were asking lol. But that's my general process when it comes to my art 👍
33 notes
·
View notes
Text
When I was a young excited physics student I went down to my advisor and asked for a job in a lab. Those of you who are in the sciences may recognize this as exceedingly common, most schools with science departments will hire undergrads for their labs both to give the undergrads experience and to have someone comparatively cheap to do the least skilled labor in those labs.
For me, the lab I was sent to was one doing cool photonics projects and I was assigned to a guy who was doing the theoretical modeling for them and I got put on a side project for them to develop a method to double check their results using Monte Carlo simulations.
Put bluntly, I toiled away in the little cubicle they had me in for about half a year before I transferred to a different school without ever having produced anything of any particular value other than a Monte Carlo simulation whose temperature readings were not taking into account the existence of a heat sink and therefore got overwhelmed by thermal photons in a completely inaccurate and unhelpful way.
Ultimately, many tasks, farmed out like this in a speculative way to undergrads, fail, certainly it's not exceptional that mine did and I learned a lot about the process in the process, so it wasn't wasted time for me, but it produced absolutely nothing the lab could use to further its results.
This is where it turns from a little anecdote about my work history into a morality tale, because what I have thus far deliberately failed to tell you is that the lab I was assigned to is a provider of radar services to the US Military. Had I produced anything of any value whatsoever the work I did would have been used by the US military to help with its capacity to deliver bombs. This is, unfortunately, as those of you who are in the sciences may recognize, also exceedingly common. Luckily, and through no foresight or moral thinking of my own, simply the inexperience of youth, I produced nothing of value but view the path they tried to set me down as a grim warning of what might have been.
I'm not asking for forgiveness, the harm I might have done was not done by me, although I'm also sure was done without my help. They didn't need it to be me they just needed someone with basic calculus knowledge who wouldn't think too hard about the connection between the work and the world, and they were happy enough that particular warm body was me.
So this is my plea, if you're young and getting involved in the sciences because you're passionate about knowledge and understanding our place in the universe. When you go to get that job in that lab that's such a good stepping stone to the next thing you want to do, take a second and look into where that lab's funding is coming from. If it turns out it's the military, maybe then take another second and really deeply consider what kind of thing your work can be used to do and if you would like some of the most bloodthirsty people on the planet to be able to do that thing because of your help.
I got lucky that I didn't help, but I'm hoping that with this warning you might be able to not help on purpose which is a greater moral good than what I managed.
#IDK been thinking about this a lot recently for obvious reasons#I should've known better at the time too to be clear I was just blinded by excitement#If I'd stayed at that school and that lab and got to the level where I could contribute#They would have happily sent me to the Raytheon office down the street#Where I would've been well paid as my soul chipped away at itself#And I will never not resent the structure of the system that had that future in mind for me#I feel extra foolish for having nearly fallen for it considering my grandfather's history as a member of the Union of Concerned Scientists#Which is in part because he didn't talk much about that with us grandkids in large part because we weren't old enough early enough#There's a lot I wish he could've talked to me about now that I'm old enough to really understand it#But back to the point tell your advisor 'I'm not comfortable working in a military lab do you have any other options'#That's what I wish I'd said#Meanwhile my dad (the legend) claims to have cost the military millions of hours of productivity and credibly so
63 notes
·
View notes
Note
Could I ask Charon and Guanyin for Yan!Canda and America? You could also just chose one, thank you.
It shall be both of them.
Yandere NA Brothers - Fouled Harvest
Charon - How would they deal with your death/departure?
America would have his own special ways of dealing with your death. In the beginning that would mean that he wouldn’t really deal with your death. Reality would only really kick in when he buries you. Part of this comes from his own experiences with death, as in death is usually very temporary for him. That is why he might just sit beside your cooled body for hours at a time, waiting for you to return to the land of the living. Death isn’t in his end game of a happily ever after, so he is in denial for as long as possible. Then the fact that you’re dead and never coming back hits him like an IBM and he finds himself overwhelmed with all the emotions that come crashing down on him.
Maybe he goes on a drinking binge, or fishes out the hard stuff he has hidden at the very back of the top shelf in the pantry. He goes on long walks, maybe dies himself because he is high and picks a fight with a grizzly or gets bitten by a rattlesnake. It really depends on where he is living at the moment. Then the tides turn, and a steely determination takes over and he launches himself with new found fevrour in various projects. Death is the final frontier and it is time to conquer it.
If you would just have departed and be out of his reach, then matters would look slightly different. Alfred would constantly be looking for you, at times more invested in the search and other times he would be distracted by other matters. If for some reason, he can’t get you back, he’ll be constantly looking for loopholes in order to do so. However, he considers himself above the laws of men and gods, so he might as well break a few treaties and bypass organisation structures and ignore reprimands if it means getting you back.
Should it not be in his power or abilities to get you back, then matters become dangerous. No matter how many times his politicians explain to him that it is not within the realm of possibility to get you back, that they don’t have the power or the mean, he simply won’t listen to them. He is bound to become impulsive in such a state, and do something very stupid.
Canada would have a far more sombre and realistic approach to the situation. It would also take a bit for the gravity of the matter to dawn on him, but not as long as it would take his brother. He'd store you in a cool space, and provide to clean up the property. Vacuum clean, and then wax the floors. Shake out every carpet, and prune and weed the garden, wash and polish the car, sort out old clothing. Your things wouldn't be packed away - he'll occasionally take a dress or suit of yours out and cuddle with it as he falls asleep. Perhaps he'll brush his teeth with your toothbrush when he is feeling down, or use the soap you preferred on himself.
Eventually you are buried in the garden. Beforehand, he'll perform the usual duties of a coroner, of washing and dressing the deceased. He wants you to look pretty for your own burial, so he might lay the make-up thick. It would be staged like the usual funeral, only he is playing all the parts. It would also be the only time he would allow himself to fully and truly grieve your passing. Afterwards, that particular door will be closed again.
Should you be alive and he just can't reach you, then he might just resort to waiting. It would bug him to no end, but he'll still do it. Matthew could get you to relax your guard and then he'll strike. Perhaps if he is patient enough you'll come back of your own accord. Or he'll track your every movement, stating himself temporarily by watching you. But in the long run, it wouldn't be enough.
Guanyin - What would cause them to feel regret for their actions? Do they know what they are doing is wrong?
It would take a lot to make Alfred regret his mistakes. A lot of the time, he is just so caught up in his own hype and so called heroism that he isn't able to be cognisant of his own wrong doings. He is the ultimate good guy, and he doesn't like getting called out on his own bs. The person who does that is either a villain or envious of him and his awesomeness. There would have to be black-on-white consequences to his actions, consequences that affect him greatly and negatively for reality to start to dawn. Even then, it would take a bit for it all to sink in. Only then would he regret his actions and vow to do better.
He might come to the conclusion that he is wrong in some aspects, and even try to make amends, but he would never go all the way. Alfred would be hard pressed to admit it aloud, and it wouldn't be for your sake. At the end of the day, he just wants to see himself as the good guy. You are just there to fulfil his wants and desires, so you as a person, as an individual with your own dreams, don't matter that much to him. If you have your own sway over the situation, or if you can even walk away if he crosses red lines, then he might push himself to make concessions. But it is a big "if".
Matthew would be more inclined to see the errors of his ways and the guilt would eat at him. However, he would decide to take a leaf out of his brother's book and be a bit selfish. The shame would always be there and even when he'd do his best to play cold and standoffish, he would still care deeply about your opinions. That way, you might be able to guilt him into doing things your way. You pointing out his wrongs and mistakes, would pain him - but that doesn't mean he'll act on the pain and automatically strive to make amends.
35 notes
·
View notes
Note
How do you feel about different animated Peters? Do you have a favorite out of them?
hooh man, i know i say that i've consumed every little bit of spider-man media ever but it's really not true actually, and i think the thought of trying to watch every single animated version of peter parker kind of makes my brain explode. there are so many. i didn't actually grow up on spider-man cartoons, i only really got into spider-man comics in my late teens so my point-of-reference for peter parker will kind of always be the 616 comics, first-and-foremost.
i did watch a bit of ultimate spider-man as it was airing and i probably am one of the very few people on the planet who's kind of oddly soft on it! i have complicated feelings about ultimate spider-man. i feel about it the same kind of way that i feel about way's deadpool run. that it's an entirely annoying depiction of the character that is full to the brim with irritating jokes that don't land and package up the character to be a nutszo joke-a-minute lols random haha type deal but - i see oddly sincere and sympathetic and self-aware moments in there that make me inexplicably fond of that particular portrayal.
i don't know - i actually really love it when peter's portrayed as an actual weirdo. not the uptight square-boy you usually see, or this quirky boy-scout who's just kind of bland and cute and nerdy - but a peter parker that is actually unapologetically annoying. like you can't stand to be with him. i kind of love to see it. i don't know, i want him to be annoying. i think he should be annoying. and i love that he's fucking insane. like, objectively. he's not a sane man. he's adhd incarnate. and he's stupid. he has heroic moments, yeah, but he's also stupid and a jerk. i don't know. i'm probably giving it way too much credit, but compared to what came after (disney xd's spider-man (2017), looking at you) it's fun and kind of a very weird departure to your usual spider-man fare. deadpool appears in this show for one singular episode also so naturally thta is enough to make my brain go brrr.
(i've actually been really wanting to write a fic set in this universe. it's a universe i'm kind of interested in exploring, actually. been rotating it in my mind for a really, really long time. i'm almost ashamed to admit it, but every version of wade wilson fires up my brain, and i'm really, really interested in fleshing out this strange, i-was-a-child-soldier-turned-teenage-mercenary wade wilson. sorry. off-topic now. spider-man. we're meant to be talking about spider-man.)
disney xd's spider-man (2017) sorry you are so ugly and so boring. she doesn't exist to me. i hate that stupid nerdy off-brand tom holland ass twink with the green eyes. hate her. she is so boring. and her voice is even worse than drake bell (how could that be possible)
60's spider-man fucks. binged it so hard during my college days because it put me into the flow-state while i was working on my animation projects. i love that square boy. i love how macho he sounds when he's in the suit. i love his stupid fucking spider with the six legs. i love that they didn't have the budget for the extra two legs. i love him. he got me through college. almost tempted to do a stream of 60s spider-man so you all can enjoy it with me. it's a treasure. and thank you, 60s spider-man, for all the reaction images.
spectacular spider-man is very beloved, and i NEAARLY watched it all the way through, but – i don't know, i kind of just... don't like that peter parker very much. i couldn't tell you why. he's just a little boring to me. maybe it's the same criticism people slam onto andrew garfield's spider-man, the "he's too cool" argument. he's just not cringefail enough. he's kind of a bit boring. and his stupid SHIRT TAG that is NEVER TUCKED IN makes me FROTH at the MOUTH. i didn't wind up finishing the series because the love-triangle stuff just got way too exhausting for me. usually i eat up the peter parker drama but this particular case it really is a "why on earth is everyone in love with him. he's so boring." kind of situation. sure, it's a universal constant, but in this series it really is true. i wouldn't waste my time with him. sorry. mid. 5/10 peter parker portrayal. but the art and animation and theme song fuck.
i don't think i've watched enough of the other series to talk about them - which i feel kind of embarrassed about. i wanted to watch the animated series (1994) but just - never got around to it. i just prefer the comic-book format over animation, funnily. the irony, of me being an animator by trade, but preferring the medium of comic books. but like - i don't know. i prefer books over movies too. i just like doing more brain-work. it's why i like to write and draw more than i like to watch things. i don't like passive consumption. i want to put my brain to work. so - soooo, when it comes to watching things, i'm kind of terrible at it.
i think i should do a massive research session where i watch every spider-man series (or at least as much of them as my brain is willing to) - so i can do a comprehensive ranking of all peter parkers. if i have the time for that sort of thing (i don't.)
one day, maybe, one day. it could make a very fun video essay. i'd love to make a video essay, one day.
#sci speaks#sci. make a video essay. it could be fun. you make videos for a living. make one for yourself.#sci talks animation
25 notes
·
View notes
Note
I just don't understand what his team was thinking when they agreed to this stunt. Exactly how does he benefit from it other then being seen as an uber straight grade-A douchebag? Is this really the image his team wants for Timmy? There's just too much talent and potential there to be shamming with a Kartrashian/Jenner.
Hello, Anon:
It’s absolutely mind-boggling what having more money than God can buy in the United States of America these days: New lips, new hips, and a sparkling new image with a shiny new man who apparently doesn’t even need to be present to win.
The KarJenner PR team has been hard at work for the last few months for a classy reboot of baby sister Kylie, complete with a romance with the internet’s boyfriend, style influencer and fashion icon Timothée Chalamet, who also happens to be the greatest actor of his generation. At face value, it certainly does seem like an unlikely match, given the imbalance of (dare I say it?) intellectual curiosity and preternatural talents between them. But anything is possible, when one has more money than one can ever spend in several lifetimes and the other has greater goals and ambitions than his power and influence will allow at this point in his career.
Both parties involved, however directly or indirectly, can find benefit in being in each other’s orbits driveways, taco restaurants, tarmac, in an image-conscious culture ravenous for juicy content just like this.
One of the pair has received a decidedly more positive boost from it.
The other, not so much, perhaps by design.
He may have extremely valid reasons for wanting to promote that particular “douchebag” image, if he really is willingly participating in what appears to be yet another PR romance. His handlers and PR team probably assume that he must do this in order to continue to level up in Hollywood as the next Leonardo DiCaprio. And they are probably right, given the current wave of puritanical bigotry in the USA and elsewhere in the world. There is far too much money riding on the success of his next three potentially blockbuster projects and too many people with a vested interest in his success for them to allow his image to be seen as anything other than “normal” in order to appeal to the mainstream sensibilities of a global audience. His own ambitions most likely make it impossible to refuse.
Can’t knock the hustle. ✨💃🕺🏻✨ And both of them are hustlers. Maybe that’s what they have in common.
If this were truly an authentic romance, we already know that all they would need to do to keep it private is to KEEP IT PRIVATE: Say nothing to the press, don’t call the paparazzi to meet you in the parking lot, don’t alert the media at all. They both have the means and resources to disappear from public view whenever they want, if they really wanted to do that. It’s not a requirement to begin a new relationship with a press release, not even for celebrities.
And yet here we are, a love story loudly announced in a tale of two cars, maybe three, long driveways but park at the bottom where everyone can see, and taco dates with paparazzi who take photos but only with his wingman.
A story which has made it abundantly clear that at least one of them wants to
MAKE SURE EVERYONE NOTICES their super-duper-uber-private budding romance 🚘🌮❣️🌮🚘
I’m not entirely convinced that he’s even an active participant in all of this, TBH. Many of the details thus far don’t add up to much of anything except a lot of black cars being shuffled around in his driveway published by the trash gossip press with sensationalist headlines and articles intended to plant the idea in the minds of those who want to believe it or need to know it’s happening.
For reasons.
And all of this accomplished without a single decent photo as concrete evidence of this alleged romance between two people famously well-versed in the art of the selfie in the golden age of Instagram.
Not even a fan photo or one “leaked” by their team. Nothing, except some extraordinarily grainy outdoor shots in someone’s backyard where the only easily identifiable person is Kylie Jenner and only because of her unusual proportions, in a town teeming with Teemo lookalikes who would happily stand in for the real thing for nothing but the chance to say they did it.
The Devil works hard but Kris Jenner works harder.
Seeing might be believing, but only if we can actually see what we’re seeing.
Thanks for your comment. 🤔🥔📸🎪🫤🤷🏻♀️
#hello anon#timothée chalamet#kylie jenner#range rover rodeo#photos with potatoes#public private romance#douchebag#climber#a tale of two cars maybe three#tacos but bring your wingman#better photos from bigfoot sightings#bigfoot family bbq#kyliegate#seeing is believing#rah rah oh ma ma a#ro ma ro ma ma a#mafalda needs a disco nap#tales from the charmiesphere
97 notes
·
View notes
Text
Good Omens Fic Rec: Divine Restorations & Repairs
While it's unfortunate for one’s car to break down in the middle of the countryside, the pretty-as-a-postcard Tadfield could hardly be considered the worst place Anthony J. Crowley has ever been. Of course, it doesn’t help that it looks like it hasn’t yet seen the turn of the millennia, let alone this decade, but perhaps that’s just what he needs as he crawls his way out of the Hell he’s endured for the past fifteen years. Maybe the last thirty, if he's honest with himself. Though he could do without the rain.
When Aziraphale Fell happens upon him and offers him shelter from the storm in his little family-run antique repair shop, neither are expecting it to change everything. The angel with his white umbrella and his tartan bowtie doesn’t expect this mysterious stranger to be able to fill the timely vacancy in his shop or the quiet of his life, but they’ve both had experience in restoring once-beloved items back to their full glory.
Perhaps Crowley hasn’t fallen quite so far that he wouldn’t fit in with the rest of Aziraphale’s ragtag team of eccentric restoration experts. And perhaps they may be able to turn that talent on themselves and each other, and seal the cracks in their own hearts.
Length: 315,275 words
AO3 Rating: Explicit/ Spice Level 🔥🔥
Best for: Long sitting or with breaks, mostly safe in public, slow burn, found family story, pick-me-up
Triggers: Murder Mention (not graphic), Minor violence
Read it here, fic by skimmingthesurface and SylWritesStuff
*Minor Spoilers* I spent an entire Sunday lazily reading this one, and I highly recommend trying that out! This is satisfyingly long, enough of a slow burn that you fall into the world easily. But it doesn’t tease and keep our couple apart more than absolutely necessary. Plus the setting is really enjoyable, it’s a Human AU that I liked living in. Aziraphale runs an antique repair shop, and when the Bentley breaks down nearby, Crowley finds more than just a temporary shelter from the rain. And of course, miraculously, Crowley has the technical skills Aziraphale was looking to hire for. Yeah, sure, there are a couple plot points that are bordering on too serendipitous. But isn’t that just like the Good Omens canon anyway? I’m willing to accept a bit of divine intervention or whatever it is that pushes them together.
A couple things I particularly loved: the shop itself and their projects, Crowley’s backstory and Jewish traditions, the Tadfield community/found family, the absolute romance of it all. And one particular scene where Crowley performs a magic trick on Aziraphale. It had me screaming, crying, throwing up it was so stupidly romantic.
Heaven, or rather Aziraphale's family, are absolutely terrible people. Which parallels the canon well, but in a human world a couple parts seemed a little much for the setting. Like Aziraphale, my love, how can you defend them? I get abusive families but he really is delusional about it. That's the intended point though, and what I love is that this story gives him a way to finally come to his senses by seeing how Anathema is treated by them. He just needed an outside look! Crowley has a past that I won’t spoil here, but it’s very engaging and easy to see how he fell down such a path. It’s a unique take at Crowley, and probably one of my favorites. There's still the hard edge to him we know, but a unique softness that extends to all his new found family. Not just Aziraphale. A little action movie at the very end, but stays on the side of enjoyable rather than cheesy.
This is truly a story you should make time to read. It’s long yes, and I liked doing it in one sitting, but it lends itself well to breaks. You don’t need to scarf it down like I did. The smut is also later in the story and easily skippable if that's not your thing. So for the majority of this, it's definitely something you can enjoy in public comfortably.
Read it here, fic by skimmingthesurface and SylWritesStuff
#Good omens#good omens fanfiction#good omens fanfic#fanfic rec#aziracrow#human au#pick me up#mostly safe in public#extra long#antique au#slow burn#two flames#romance#Divine Restorations & Repairs#skimmingthesurface#SylWritesStuff#faves of the blog#criminal au
32 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
itz-acheli-blog
It’s Acheli
azianxpersuasion22
now @ azianxpersuasion
manasteelingot
candy is dandy but ichor is sticker
mhooooti
MINSAN TAO KADALASAN GWAPO
christophelife-blog
CHRISTOPHE