#i feel like i just won the nobel prize | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

notquitecanon · 6 months

Text

Look at you // Moonknight system x reader

Summary: Three words, three men. Crazy how it meant something so different coming from each of them. You cherish them all.

TW: Marvel's version of DID, sexual mentions through out, jake's section is just smut sorry I'm a whore, fingering, oral (f receiving), no use of Y/N, I don't think I mentioned specific pronouns but I used feminine descriptions of genitalia, terrible and overused Spanish. terrible and overused British slang. mentions of penetrative sex and male receiving oral. Marc is touch starved and self sabotaging but what's new? criminal overuse of italics I think that's everything worth mentioning?

I typed this up In like 30 minutes after the idea came to me. There are typos + I've never written for the moon boys before (idk how I literally never stop thinking about them) Anyways on with it:

Steven says it like he’s won a prize. His eyes light up with that amazing grin, and he holds his hands out to you like you are about to hand him whatever the archeology equivalent of a Nobel Prize is- except in this metaphor you’re also the trophy. He says it often- when he sees you in a new outfit or hair style for the first time, when he greets you after not seeing you for a couple days, when you step out of the steamy bathroom in a towel, when he’s had one too many pints at the pub and the light is hitting your eyes just right, when you kneel between his legs and look up at him.

“Look at you!” His voice is somewhere between breathless and a growl, yet still chipper and awestruck. His eyes are roving over you as if he can’t find a favorite part about you, and he can’t- it’d be like comparing wonders of the world, “Darlin’, you look absolutely stunnin’!” He inched closer, hands reaching out to you. You couldn't tell if it was a demand for you to close the distance or hesitation that you might not allow him to touch you. And while Steven could be fun to tease, you weren’t cruel… usually. His eyes still couldn't settle, but they kept flicking nervously- hopefully- back up to yours, “You didn’t do all this for me, did you, luv?” “All for you, Steven.” You promised, taking his hand and placing it on your hip. His breath catches as he starts feeling the delicious fabric and he didn't wait for permission for his other hand to roam up to your hair. His eyes were still roaming, no the better word was analyzing you like you were the depiction of an ancient deity come to life. He nodded as his breath became heavy, and the sweet thing almost melted when you reach up and brush a curl from his face. He might have had wandering eyes but you had wandering hands, cupping his cheek then dragging down his neck, down his chest to the hem of that sweater you so often stole, and then underneath just to drag back up his bare chest. “All for me, don’t know how lucked into you. Bit hard to believe, innit?” He rambled but you let him for only a moment. You playfully smacked his ribs under his shirt. It wasn’t hard to believe at all, you’d told him a thousand times just how lucky you were to have him. He breathed a laugh, shook his head, and apologized quietly. You smiled softly, reaching towards him to press a kiss to his jawline, then his cheek, and finally his lips. When you pulled back, Steven surprisingly wasn’t still leaning into the contact like usual. This time his chocolate eyes start at your feet and rake up, painstakingly slow, “Look. at. you.”

Jake says it like he’s proving you wrong- he usually is. His smirk is as smug and irritating as it is thrilling, his eyes darken like a predator about to pounce, and his fingers flex like he’s focusing all his energy on not pouncing too quick. When something he picked out looks just right on you, when he sneaks up on you just enough to see you startle, when he makes a flush creep up your neck, when he pins you while teaching you self defense, when he pries out 'one last' orgasm after you were sure you couldn’t do it again.

“Look at you, mi amor.” Jake teased, as if he wasn’t the reason you were the mess you had become. His strong arms were the only reason you weren’t boneless on the mattress as he held you up enough to see your reflection in corner mirror- you idly wondered if Steven and Marc were enjoying the show. Jake was grinning and his eyes are practically danced as they took in every last inch of your shaking body. If you had anymore control over your body (which you obviously don’t), you’d smack that smirk right off his smug face- and Jake would've probably liked it, the deviant, “Follame, dulce nina, lo haces tan facil.” Unfortunately, you didn't have much control at that moment. That much was obvious to both of you (and probably your neighbors). In fact, all you had been able to manage between moans were breathy ‘pleases’ and screams of Jake’s name. Instead, you clung to him the best you could, leaving claw marks down his shoulders. Your knees had knocked back together, clamping his hand between your thighs- still too cock dumb to realize that was part of the problem. Trapping those evil but delicious fingers next to your throbbing core as you writhed through the most recent wave of pleasure. You hear Jake’s cool chuckle, but when you look at him- both of him… shit when did your eyes cross?- he’s still just watching you. He is kind enough to wait until your eyes uncross edand your breathing to evened out before he swatted your thigh, just hard enough to make you gasp before you realized what he wanted. You couldn't even be embarrassed when he lifted it up and your slick almost shimmered on his hand in the low light. Jake's grin was wolfish, clearly proud of his work as he rounded the corner of the bed. Leaning over you, his lips ghosted over your sweat dropped forehead and then your own swollen lips. His large hands took purchase at the soft flesh of your hips, squeezing as a warning before quickly, efficiently tugging you down to the foot of the bed where he took to his knees. “One more for me.” It wasn’t a question or a request- a statement. You shook your head, but didn’t tell him to stop- you didn’t want him to stop but you genuinely didn’t think he could make you come again. From between your twitching thighs, he simply arced a brow. “Don’t believe me, princesa?” "Told you." Minutes later, he emerged victorious from the vice of your thighs, nose and chin practically dripping as he grinned up at you. Your fingers were still knotted in his curls as your chest heaved, stars dancing in your vision as you gasped or maybe you were screaming… you couldn’t tell. All you knew was Jake and the little circles he was rubbing on your knees with his thumb as you came back to Earth. Jake’s dark eyes watched you like you were a living piece of art, voice rasping and zealous, yet still holding that annoyingly familiar ‘i told you so’ candor, “Dios mios, Look at you.”

Marc says it like it just might save him. His eyes soften and his shoulders lose some tension, like the weight of the world (moon?) lessens when you’re around, and if you’re really lucky, you might catch a small, sweet, relieved smile. When you say such pretty things while he’s inside of you, when he comes home and your making enough dinner for two, when you open the curtains in the morning and the light shines in, when he looks up at you with his head on your lap and your fingers toying with his curls, when you first wake up and the first thing you do is sleepily smile at him, and sometimes, most times, when he’s not even fronting when he’s watching as a fly on the wall as you are just as gentle and loving with Jake and Steven.

“Look at you.” Marc whispered it, it was intimate, reverent. Like he hadn’t even meant to say it out loud. His head was in his lap and he’d been somewhere between half awake and mostly asleep for the better part of the afternoon. Jake had run the body ragged while he fronted, and now with Marc at the wheel all he wanted was to rest and be near you- not necessarily in that order. So, he didn’t argue nearly as much as usual when you simply pulled him onto the couch and pushed his had to you lap where you played with his dark curls until he went limp, sprawled over the overstuffed yet still too small couch Steven had chosen for the flat. It was comical how his long legs hung over the arm and back of the sofa, one arm draping over you and the other hanging off so his knuckles grazed the floor. But Marc knew how to be grateful, knew how to realize when he got more than the thought he deserved. This was good. You were good. And he had known plenty of bad, so for the moment he’d soak up your good like a plant soaks up sunshine. In between long blinks, he had watched you with soft eyes as you rotated from your latest book, scrolling on your phone, and whatever show you’d throw on the TV. Sometimes you were humming as you read or muttering comments about your show. Your free hand was twisting his curls, combing across his scalp, and occasionally gently drifting down to rub his back. God, you were a fucking angel. How could he not look at you? “What about me?” You asked, quiet but bemused, magic fingers tracing from his hair to rest at his chin so you could see his eyes. Softer than usual. Your smile was reassuring, a promise this was real. A promise he was actually here. That he deserved to be. Marc sighed. He could wax poetic at you for the next four hours and not even cover his opening remarks on how grateful he was for you, why he didn’t deserve you, and what he’d do to keep you. But he also knew how upset it made you when he talked like that, so instead, he shook his head slightly, burrowing even closer into you if that were possibly before tugging you down to meet his lips briefly, “Someone’s feeling sentimental today. Everything alright?” “Perfect, baby, perfect.” He promised, still openly staring. You shook your head, hiding behind your book, but Marc gently pushed the pages to the side, “How could I not be, just… look at you."

______

translations:

mi amor: my love

follame, dulce nina, lo haces tan facil: fuck me, sweet girl, you make it too easy

Princesa: Princess

Dios Mios: My God / Oh my God

I'm gonna be so real with y'all I know the Spanish words need the accent marks but consider the fact that I am dumb and can't figure that out yet. Did I put three gifs to distract y'all? yes. also he's pretty. sue me.

Anyways sorry if this sucked laugh out loud

the boys during this

#moon knight x reader #Steven grant x reader #marc Spector x reader #jake lockley x reader #moon knight x y/n

364 notes · View notes

slippinmickeys · 3 days

Note

happy birthday! drabble prompt in re: the amazon scientist/archaeologist au for you if you want: scully finding out she's won the nobel prize

(I just love that fic so much, no pressure!)

Quick and dirty, no beta.

Above the canopy of the jungle, the sky was the same liquidy pink as a bottle of rosé. The heat was easing with the setting of the sun, but Mulder still mopped the sweat off his brow with an already soiled handkerchief.

Byers met him at the trailhead with a bottle of water that was opaque with condensation.

“Hey,” Mulder said, accepting it gratefully. “I miss anything while I was at the site?”

Byers shook his head and fell in step beside him as they entered the perimeter of the camp.

“Not really,” he said. “Frohike had some luck unscrambling the data on the last sweep, but it didn’t show anything.”

“I’d like to take a look anyway,” Mulder said.

“I figured,” Byers replied. “We’ve got it loaded on the ThinkPad.”

The calls of the night animals were beginning, a gradual swell of sound. Mulder bade Byers farewell, ducking under the flap to his tent for a quick towel bath and a change of clothes.

He was surprised to find Scully inside, leaning over the small table they had shoved into the corner of the tent.

“Hey,” he said, feeling a smile blossom on his face with the greeting. “I thought you and Miguel wouldn’t be back until tomorrow. Weren’t you overnighting in section three?”

Scully answered him but continued whatever she was doing at the table. “The locals reported a jaguar sighting there three nights ago. Decided to play it safe.”

Drawn to her by some unknowable force, Mulder sidled up to her and pressed into her from behind. She straightened and he bent to sniff her neck, mumbling into the warm skin there. “Good. I like when you play it safe.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, reaching up to wrap an arm around his neck from behind. The soft animal of her body pressed into his and he felt a flare of wanting.

He was about to take things further when there was a call from outside the tent.

“Mulder?” came Langly’s voice.

With regret, Mulder took a step back from Scully and affirmed his presence. The canvas flap came up a moment later letting in the last of the day’s dim light. Langly’s eyes flitted between the two of them.

“We’ve got a sat call,” he said, with some gravity.

The camp had a satellite phone in case of emergencies. They rarely used it, and never – not once in the three years of the project – had they ever gotten an incoming call on it.

Mulder was about to step forward when Langly licked his lips.

“It’s for Dr. Scully,” he said.

Mulder immediately met his lover’s eyes and she rushed out of the tent to the area of the mess where the sat phone lived. He was right on her heels. She was probably thinking the same thing he was: something had happened to her mother. To another family member. Someone was likely dead.

She tore into the mess almost at a run and grabbed the chunky phone out of Frohike’s hands, who took a step back and swung his eyes to Mulder, mouthing something Mulder couldn’t make out.

Mulder ignored him, his gaze intent on Scully who mumbled something into the receiver, swallowing thickly.

Mulder could hear talking on the other end of the phone, but couldn’t make out what was being said. Scully’s forehead crinkled into a confused chevron and then she grabbed the table that housed a majority of the computer equipment, suddenly swaying on her feet.

“Get her a chair!” Mulder shouted, but Langly, who’d come in behind them, was already pushing a camp chair up to Scully, who lowered herself into it shakily.

“Okay,” she finally said. “Thank you.” And her hand holding the receiver dropped into her lap, the greenish light on its small screen flicking off.

Mulder stepped forward and lowered himself until he was kneeling in front of her.

“Scully?” he said. She had a dissociated look about her that scared him. He put his warm hand on her knee. “Honey?” he said.

At this, she finally looked up.

“I–” she started, still dazed. “I just won the Nobel Prize.”

#prompts #birthday prompts!#msr #au #fanfic

26 notes · View notes

ferventfox · 9 months

Text

Saw the Barbie movie and enjoyed it a lot.

Some people on the internet have charged it with being misandrist/man-hating/whatever word you want to use for it, and those people...are kind of correct. Sorry. (Spoilers for the Barbie movie btw)

The standard smug response is “omg sexist dudebros can’t stand that a movie is about women and they are too toxic to understand the message of the film and how it deals with the fact that patriarchy hurts men too.” And sure, it’s made explicit that being in charge and having the material trappings of patriarchal power does not make Ken happy on an existential level (because his real dream in life is to be a horse girl), but it’s not enough to cancel out that every single man in the film is portrayed as an incompetent moron. Stuff like “Men love explaining the Godfather and think playing the guitar is interesting and impressive to women” doesn’t bother me--these are jokes in a comedy film and the characters doing them are doll people who live on a plastic beach. But it’s not just the Kens that are stupid, the men from the real world are all stupid too. The husband of the America Ferrera character is essentially a real world Ken--there just to be there and someone neither the audience or the women in his life spare much of a thought for unless we are laughing at how ridiculous his existence is. The Barbie movie is only “not sexist” in that it’s not as bad as you might expect because the bar for these sorts of thing is so low it’s on the ground.

The messaging around the whole Ken takeover is extremely weird and confusing. As Ken observes, the real world is opposite from life in Barbieland; in Barbieland the Barbies are the patriarchs who occupy all the positions of power and Kens are the “women” in that they are second-class citizens whose lives and identities revolve around the Barbies because they’re not permitted to do anything fulfilling or interesting on their own. But when Ken turns Barbieland into Kendom, the plot seems to run on the assumption that the audience’s sympathies would naturally be with the Barbies fighting to restore the status quo and not with the Kens, who were an underclass until about a day ago. Yes the society they set up is bad--it’s just the reverse of the unfair system that existed before--but there is very little sense that the Barbies are getting a taste of their own medicine and instead the narrative is that it’s tragic that these strong women who have won Nobel prizes have to be nice and pay attention to the obviously stupid and boring Kens for even a day. The main character expresses that she feels bad for treating Ken poorly and this is shut down by another character (meant to be a real human woman from the real world) who basically says she shouldn’t feel bad because Ken stole her house and “brainwashed” her friends but isn’t it just one of the struggles of womanhood that we feel bad about how we treat shitty men~ .

Like, what? All the Kens were homeless before this! I liked the Barbie character and all, but obviously I’m going to feel more sympathy for the person whose example of how the real world made him feel like someone is that a woman found his existence worthwhile enough to ask him for the time than for someone whose arc is dealing with her life being less than perfect for the first time.The former is both very sad and just more like a real experience that most people would have--a lifelong sense of inadequacy rather than having an idyllic existence that went suddenly wrong--yet it’s Barbie who is framed as the relatable one because, I suppose, she is a woman.

I think the movie relies a little too much on this “sisterhood” idea that I’ve always hated. I’m sure I’m meant to be nodding my head at the little speech about the contradictory expectations placed on women and going “yes that’s just what it’s like!”...but I simply didn’t relate to it at all and was left thinking it was sort of a weak, lazy solution to a conflict that was already a bit contrived to begin with. That Barbies would be just as susceptible to rhetoric from some college freshman’s B+ women’s study’s paper as they were to instantly adopting patriarchal ideas actually makes sense, but I don’t think that’s the joke--we’re meant to find it profound. (The human characters in general are the weakest part of the movie. It feels almost like they are remnant of an earlier version of the story that got changed a lot, especially the Mattel executives).

At the end there is some lip service to things not just going back to the way they were, but a Ken cannot have a seat on the supreme court. The point of this, I think, is supposed to be that just like a company releasing toy that is a woman president isn’t going to solve gender inequality, neither is this one event going to immediately change Barbieland into an egalitarian utopia; real equality is hard to to achieve and is a slow process of incremental changes. This is good, but it’s undercut by the movie wanting to have it’s cake and eat it too by having all these girlboss scenes where the Barbies are taking back Barbieland and are clearly better and smarter than the Kens. We’re meant to see them talk about “keeping Barbieland Barbieland” and getting to reinstate “their” constitution (that 0 Kens get to vote on) and feel...good? Inspired?

I couldn't help but feel dissatisfied with how this plotline ended because the situation looks sort of grim.The only Barbie who is ever shown to have any empathy for a Ken leaves, and the Ken with the most personal development gives up leading anyone because it’s not his thing and cedes his leadership position to a Ken who doesn’t have the motivation not to build his life around Barbie that he does. I think I would’ve liked it more if Ken also left Barbieland. He had an existential crisis too; he was also effected enough by his experience that he was capable of tears. If Stereotypical Barbie doesn’t feel like Barbie anymore, does Stereotypical Ken really feel like Ken? After having to completely redefine his entire reason for existing? As it is, it almost feels like the film is saying that Ken is too simple to be irrevocably changed by what he’s been through, like only Barbie’s feelings are deep and meaningful. I just wanted a post-credits scene where he runs a horse ranch with Allan or something.

#I wrote this big long post that could easily be responded too with but Ken was the best part of the movie #he so was!#which is why I'm left vaguely disappointed

118 notes · View notes

siren-serenity · 9 months

Text

hair dye

characters: eli jang, gn!reader warnings: fluff a/n: - we all know eli is that kind of dad whenever yenna does something small and then praises her as if she won a nobel piece prize lmao (i never expected zami to be yenna!!) - guys i've never dyed my hair before so pls correct me if i'm wrong! - every hairstyle suits eli. fight me if you disagree - feedback is appreciated!

"Lean back, Eli."

Your soft voice is like a breath in a giant storm, calming to the soul and endearing to the mind. In your hands, Eli spies a bowl of hair dye and also a brush. Nodding, he stiffly complied to your request, unusued to close proximity between the two of you. His heart pounds at the very thought and his cheeks burn at the direction of his thoughts.

What changed with yours and his dynamic? Why was he acting like this?

Before, you were just another student at Jaewon Highschool. Surrounded by the group of giggling girls from his Beauty Department, Eli considers it a miracle that he was able to meet and befriend the miracle of the Vocal & Dance department, let alone be able to be one of your closest friends alongside Mary and Vin Jin. He doesn't regret it, but he sometimes wonders what was the pull in his chest, the tugging of his soul that made him do that spontaneous decision of reaching out to you?

"Y/N!" Yenna cries out to you from her spot on the cradle. In sync, you and Eli turn to the girl with soft smiles. "Yes, love?"

"Dada hair!"

You nod before grabbing a tuft of raven-black hair. Eli hums, enjoying the feeling of your gentle fingers combing through his hair and the chill of the hair dye mixed in his locks. His fingers crossed over his stomach and his shoulders untense, fully relaxing in your comforting presence.

How should he thank you for this favor? It was late at night yet because of him, you were scurrying over to his house with hair dye in hand for an emergency with the crews. Furthermore, you even stopped by the local convenience store to buy Yenna some more baby food after he offhandedly mentioned it the other day! You were a miracle, like a ray of brightness in his dark life shrouded in betrayal and mysteries.

Maybe he should take you out? He can ask the neighbor to babysit Yenna for a couple of hours while you and him can go out for coffee. Or, he could bring you to the local park and you two could feed the ducks. Maybe you would lean on his shoulders, watching the sunset in blissful piece and he would accidentally turn his shoulder and his lips would brush against yours-

"Eli?" You tap his shoulder and he jolts awake from his daydream. Eli's cheeks flush bright red and if it weren't for your hand on his shoulder steading him, he would have leaped out of your lap.

You giggled and he could almost hear his heart stop at the sound. Again, he wanted to hear it again. And again and again until you were tired of his requests and his dreams.

"What were you dreaming about so much that you couldn't even hear me?"

"Nothing," He looks away.

You brought over the tub of water, gesturing for him to lean more into you. Eli complied and scooted backward, dipping his head into the warm water and sighing in bliss. Your hands gently wash again the dye from his newly-dyed hair, and he couldn't help the pleasing sigh escaping his lips.

"You like this?" You smiled and Eli blushed, biting his lower lip.

"M-Maybe."

#lookism #lookism x reader #eli jang x reader #eli jang #yenna jang #lookism webtoon #webtoon

122 notes · View notes

macleod · 2 years

Text

The importance of stupidity in scientific research

I recently saw an old friend for the first time in many years. We had been Ph.D. students at the same time, both studying science, although in different areas. She later dropped out of graduate school, went to Harvard Law School and is now a senior lawyer for a major environmental organization. At some point, the conversation turned to why she had left graduate school. To my utter astonishment, she said it was because it made her feel stupid. After a couple of years of feeling stupid every day, she was ready to do something else.

I had thought of her as one of the brightest people I knew and her subsequent career supports that view. What she said bothered me. I kept thinking about it; sometime the next day, it hit me. Science makes me feel stupid too. It's just that I've gotten used to it. So used to it, in fact, that I actively seek out new opportunities to feel stupid. I wouldn't know what to do without that feeling. I even think it's supposed to be this way. Let me explain.

For almost all of us, one of the reasons that we liked science in high school and college is that we were good at it. That can't be the only reason – fascination with understanding the physical world and an emotional need to discover new things has to enter into it too. But high-school and college science means taking courses, and doing well in courses means getting the right answers on tests. If you know those answers, you do well and get to feel smart.

A Ph.D., in which you have to do a research project, is a whole different thing. For me, it was a daunting task. How could I possibly frame the questions that would lead to significant discoveries; design and interpret an experiment so that the conclusions were absolutely convincing; foresee difficulties and see ways around them, or, failing that, solve them when they occurred? My Ph.D. project was somewhat interdisciplinary and, for a while, whenever I ran into a problem, I pestered the faculty in my department who were experts in the various disciplines that I needed. I remember the day when Henry Taube (who won the Nobel Prize two years later) told me he didn't know how to solve the problem I was having in his area. I was a third-year graduate student and I figured that Taube knew about 1000 times more than I did (conservative estimate). If he didn't have the answer, nobody did.

That's when it hit me: nobody did. That's why it was a research problem. And being my research problem, it was up to me to solve. Once I faced that fact, I solved the problem in a couple of days. (It wasn't really very hard; I just had to try a few things.) The crucial lesson was that the scope of things I didn't know wasn't merely vast; it was, for all practical purposes, infinite. That realization, instead of being discouraging, was liberating. If our ignorance is infinite, the only possible course of action is to muddle through as best we can.

I'd like to suggest that our Ph.D. programs often do students a disservice in two ways. First, I don't think students are made to understand how hard it is to do research. And how very, very hard it is to do important research. It's a lot harder than taking even very demanding courses. What makes it difficult is that research is immersion in the unknown. We just don't know what we're doing. We can't be sure whether we're asking the right question or doing the right experiment until we get the answer or the result. Admittedly, science is made harder by competition for grants and space in top journals. But apart from all of that, doing significant research is intrinsically hard and changing departmental, institutional or national policies will not succeed in lessening its intrinsic difficulty.

Second, we don't do a good enough job of teaching our students how to be productively stupid – that is, if we don't feel stupid it means we're not really trying. I'm not talking about `relative stupidity', in which the other students in the class actually read the material, think about it and ace the exam, whereas you don't. I'm also not talking about bright people who might be working in areas that don't match their talents. Science involves confronting our `absolute stupidity'. That kind of stupidity is an existential fact, inherent in our efforts to push our way into the unknown. Preliminary and thesis exams have the right idea when the faculty committee pushes until the student starts getting the answers wrong or gives up and says, `I don't know'. The point of the exam isn't to see if the student gets all the answers right. If they do, it's the faculty who failed the exam. The point is to identify the student's weaknesses, partly to see where they need to invest some effort and partly to see whether the student's knowledge fails at a sufficiently high level that they are ready to take on a research project.

Productive stupidity means being ignorant by choice. Focusing on important questions puts us in the awkward position of being ignorant. One of the beautiful things about science is that it allows us to bumble along, getting it wrong time after time, and feel perfectly fine as long as we learn something each time. No doubt, this can be difficult for students who are accustomed to getting the answers right. No doubt, reasonable levels of confidence and emotional resilience help, but I think scientific education might do more to ease what is a very big transition: from learning what other people once discovered to making your own discoveries. The more comfortable we become with being stupid, the deeper we will wade into the unknown and the more likely we are to make big discoveries.

#Science #Reports #Mine

684 notes · View notes

mykingdomforapen · 23 days

Text

courage of stars, ch1 | writer’s commentary

Hello and welcome to the writer's commentary for courage of stars, chapter 1! I'm so excited to talk about this fic and share some background information with you, and I hope you will enjoy this journey as well!

Just a bit of housekeeping, the chapter-by-chapter commentary will go less into the symbolism/motif/narrative commentary (saving that for the end of the fic!). It's more here to get into some of the history and/or cultural tidbits, since both lend itself in both the form of Easter eggs to being pretty integral to the plot. I love getting to write Link Click fic because I get to tap into parts of me that I don't always get to do in other fandoms, so I am really excited to get into this!

As a note: I am neither a historian nor native-born Chinese. I have had the privilege of being raised in the culture and the anecdotes of modern Chinese history, but I feel it necessary to comment that this is not going to boast as 100% historically or culturally accurate, and so I encourage you that if something about the story piques your curiosity about real life events or culture or history, go ahead and read up on it! That being said, my depictions of history are based a lot of anecdotes or personal history, and I typically am not exaggerating.

Housekeeping done! Let's get into it!

***

“Sweet husband,” Cheng Xiaoshi said coyly. His tongue tentatively wrapped around the Cantonese pinyin, delicately trying the five extra tones for size.

In this universe, I've made both Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang at least half Cantonese (because I write fic for ME). Cantonese is a different dialect than what they typically speak in the show, which is Mandarin. Only Ouyang Bubei is seen speaking Cantonese in Link Click. Cantonese is not mutually intelligible with Mandarin--that is, a native Mandarin speaker is not going to understand someone speaking Cantonese unless they already know and are familiar with the language. The fact that Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang made no mention of having difficulty understanding Ouyang Bubei when he spoke exclusively in Cantonese made me jump onto the headcanon that they both grew up with the language.

Cantonese is considered an older language than Mandarin, or at least it is closer to what classic Chinese sounded like than Mandarin, which may have Mongol/Manchurian roots. It also is said to be more difficult to learn for a non-native speaker. Mandarin has 4 tones, while Cantonese has 9. So for Cheng Xiaoshi, who hasn't been speaking it for a while, he has to mess around with 5 extra tones while trying to impersonate this native speaker. Good luck to him!

***

"We may have another Chinese Nobel Prize winner for physics, right here in this apartment!” said another. “Your name will go down in history like Yang Chenning–you will make China move forward, maybe even surpass our neighbors. Who knows! Perhaps we can go to space too, like the Russians and Americans.”

During the CR, education more or less came to a standstill. Depending on when and where you were born within China, your high school education would have been very much delayed, and there were certain subjects where you would have severely been lacking. After the CR was put to an end, the country realised that they were very much lagging behind in STEM compared to their competitor countries, particularly in physics, chemistry, and mathematics. So there was a period right after the CR where those subjects were emphasized and highly encouraged--the shu li hua (数理化) priority that Lu Guang mentions later. It means Mathematics, Physics, and Chemistry, which China at that time considered the most important subjects for their academics to learn in order to propel China forward into progress and advancement, to catch up (and hopefully surpass) their neighboring countries.

Yang Chenning and Tsung-Dao Lee are two physicists of Chinese descent who had won Nobel Prizes for their contributions to physics in 1957. They eventually became lauded as role models for Chinese students of physics, when the sciences were more emphasized in studies. Yang had even come to China to help build science programs in the country after it had been more or less torn down during the CR.

***

Sun Yihan stood respectfully as Professor Lu passed him. Professor Lu gave him a small bow of the head, his eyes soft with sadness like a bruised fruit.

“Sun zi,” he said. “So the rumors are true. You really have returned to Peidi."

Sun Yihan smiled primly.

“I hope that isn’t too disappointing,” he said.

“Disappointing isn’t the word I would use,” said Professor Lu. “I am glad, but selfishly so.”

To study shu li hua was considered the best way to propel China forward, but there are some caveats to it. Studying physics alone, or studying mathematics alone, is a lot about calculations and theories. In order to use them for practicality, you need to apply things like engineering to it, which wasn't always offered (but one could pick it up along the way). Studying shu li hua was considered a way to more easily leave China and study elsewhere, for those who were ambitious and hoped for better opportunities.

Also, you will notice throughout the story that Sun Yihan (孙遗憾) will be called all sorts of names in this fic (Also, his 'Yihan' is differently written from the name of that one actor from the Link Click musical, or at least I assume so else I will feel bad for him lol). Professor Lu is calling him Sun zi, or 孙仔. The zi (仔) is like a little moniker that you call someone young, or like your kid/nephew/etc. Or even like your little pet. There's an affection to it, generally, and an indication that they are younger or smaller than you.

***

“He has much to be proud of,” Cheng Xiaoshi murmured. “He’s working with some of the first computers in the city.”

“And he used to dig clay to make bricks like the rest of us,” Sun Yihan said. “It seems that all those months spent in the countryside taught him quite little.”

So while one didn't have conventional school during the CR, there was still some kind of 'school' for the young people. That usually entailed sending them to the countryside to work one or several months with the farmers, the laborers, etc. For some people, that meant making clay bricks. You would live out in the countryside with these rural families to learn and appreciate their work, since the rural laborers were most uplifted during this time.

***

He heard shouts and chants thundering in his eardrums. A door being thrown open and heavy boots tracking monsoon mud across a floor, bookshelves thrown aside and papers strewn across a desk. Armbands tied around people’s sleeve, red with silk and blood. Streets full of bodies, some moving, some not. A hysterical scream, bubbling up his throat–

–a lonely photo studio, the neighbors’ judging whispers, children’s jeerings and pointed fingers, pain in the side of his head–

–two young girls clinging to her older sister, begging her not to risk the swim to the freedom of Hong Kong to escape oppression, before watching helplessly as she plunged into the sea–

–a little boy, sleeping soundly in his bed, and pain tearing through every inch of a woman’s body as she finally stood up to go–

I'll leave the first section alone, for now.

The third section is a reference to the freedom swimmers. When the Party took over China, those who wanted to escape to Hong Kong for freedom or to escape persecution would have had an extremely difficult time going to Hong Kong. For many of them, they would attempt to swim across the sea to reach Hong Kong, which was at the time a British colony and therefore not affected by the new regime. Many of those swimmers did not make it--drowned, or in some cases attacked by sharks--but there were some who miraculously swam and swam and made it to Hong Kong to a new life. I want to say this wave happened in the 60s or 70s.

Those are the notes for chapter 1! If you have any other questions or curiosities, feel free to ping me. Otherwise, thank you for reading and can't wait to see you for chapter 2!

#LC writes #Stars Commentary

10 notes · View notes

home2venus · 2 days

Text

LOVE IS A SINKING SHIP

── ˖✮⋆˙꒰ pairing ꒱ ˒˓ jungkook x han so-hee ˒˓ seven music video universe summary. a missing scene from the seven music video, from the perspective of han so-hee, firmly in denial. genre/tags. post-break up, getting back together, pining, accidental confessions, humor, incredibly whipped jungkook ─ 3.9k words ─ this is han so-hee's perspective of my other seven fic! read them here ⋆｡°༄˖°.🪐

Han So-hee knows what love is, and she knows for a fact that love is not found in a laundromat.

She just truly, desperately, wildly wants and needs Jeon Jungkook to get that through his head before he convinces her otherwise. That man is really too persuasive for his own good, and Han So-hee does not want to bend on this issue.

Jungkook, however, seems to have other plans.

“Can you leave me alone?”

“I love you.”

“Like, for one second, that’s all I’m asking. One second, I promise, after one singular second you can go back to bothering me, but like— One second, I feel like one second isn’t so much to ask. Just don’t talk to me, don’t say a single word, it’s really not so hard.”

“I love you,” he says again, and So-hee just sighs. Jungkook is kicking his legs back and forth, smiling at her hopefully like a child. Because, honestly, he might as well be one. Even at 25 years old, he acts like she used to when she went to the laundromat with her mother as a child. Looking at him again, with his hoodie slipping off one shoulder and his wide, doe-like, brown eyes staring at her pleadingly, she decides that he was far worse than her as a child, because she can’t remember ever being this annoying.

“So-hee,” Jungkook whines, grabbing at her sleeve as she turns from him, “I love you.”

So-hee, instead of looking at him, resolutely declares to herself that the moment she gets home she’s calling her mother to apologize for ever behaving slightly similar to the way he is right now. Her mother deserves ten awards, maybe a nobel peace prize, and, at the very least, ten winning lottery tickets.

Jungkook is her boyfriend, or he used to be her boyfriend before she wisened up and figured out he was no good. He’s pretty, and sweet, and fairly smart on the occasions where he uses whatever brain he has in there. He’s so funny that she has to sometimes grind her teeth together and zone out to keep from laughing or smiling, because to give in to his jokes means he has won. But he’s an asshole: an immature, reckless asshole that So-hee should want, does want, nothing to do with. So, she broke up with him, and that should’ve been the end of it.

It’s been two months since they broke up, and So-hee is still getting used to an empty apartment where he used to be. He didn’t live there, he had his own place with a couple of his guy friends, but he was over so often that he had carved a permanent place in her home. So-hee can feel the void where he used to be whenever she goes home.

In other news, So-hee has been spending a lot of time out of the house. Online forums say fresh air is the best way to get over a breakup, so it’s not like she’s being unhealthy. She’s fine. She’s so fucking fine.

So-hee takes the clothes out of the dryer and slams them into the empty laundry basket.

She’s fine.

When So-hee turns around to load the rest of her dirty clothes into the washing machine, Jungkook is still there. He’s quieter, not chatty or pleading like he’s been the whole time after she broke things off. He’s just... quiet; Maybe even introspective. He’s just looking at her with an unreadable stare. And he is not leaving. He sits on the washing machine and kicks his feet as she throws more clothing in, not even looking at it. She knows they won’t wash as well if she doesn’t shake them out, turn them the right side in, but the risk of Jungkook seeing something of his in her basket of dirty laundry is too high to risk. So-hee’s fingers catch on a loose string, and she knows from just the feeling of the fabric that it’s the old college sweatshirt she never gave back, the embroidered logo of white flames through a red circle faded and worn with time. She shoves it into the machine and then buries it underneath her own clothing.

So-hee can almost feel his stare, even though she knows it’s not actually possible. Something about his presence is heavy. Something about his presence makes her feel something complicated, and complicated is very rarely something So-hee likes to deal with. She sighs loudly, and gives him a pointed glare, and he raises his hands placatingly; an easy grin replacing the contemplative look he was wearing just moments prior.

“Shut up,” she says childishly, and she does not notice the way his eyes gleam at the recognition or the way his posture straigtens as she notices him. The whole reason why they broke up is because he never cared, because he was too reckless and messy and indifferent. He didn’t care about anything, and in the beginning it was fun, because he knew how to have fun and keep the fun going. But they’re adults, and going with the flow doesn’t buy houses or keep jobs or stay stable.

“I didn’t say a word,” he says with an audible smile, and So-hee hates the way he can reduce her of every bit of wit she knows that she has. So-hee’s smarter than this, she knows she is. She’s always been quick with words, and she’s always known how to make her words sharp to a point and sharp as a blade. Jungkook takes that away from her, and the worst thing is that he doesn’t even mean to. So-hee snaps away from him with a roll of her eyes and a grimace —truly not her finest moment— and barely notices the water rising in the building as she grumbles frustrations under her breath.

So-hee doesn’t notice the water until it’s about waist high, and she can’t see the tops of the washer and dryer units anymore. She swears, and pushes at Jungkook who is saying something that she refuses to listen to. The water pushes them upwards, and a silly, stupid part of her feels like she’s in Titanic; the movie, not the tragedy. Jungkook is still smiling at her, even as the water reaches their chests and they’re practically swimming towards the ceiling. So-hee, because she’s a genius, manages to push at him and the ceiling at the same time. He barely drifts away from her, but the water is reaching their necks, and one of those things is far more pressing than the other.

As they barely escape the laundromat —through the cieling, of all places, and then through the vents that lead outside— Jungkook is blessedly, strangely silent. He doesn’t talk to So-hee as they escape, just watches her with an unfaltering focus and care. When they finally are on solid ground, soaked in the cool, late night air, he keeps a steady hand on her shoulder. She’s nearly coughing her lungs out, the hand drifts to her back to rub soft, comforting circles. It’s off-putting, because Jungkook shouldn’t have that focus, doesn’t have that focus. He’s messy and careless, and that’s all he is. He can’t be anything else.

He can’t be.

So-hee has known Jungkook for years, has gone on countless outings alone with him or with his weird, codependent friend group or with his rotation of dogs that he’s always fostering or babysitting or adopting. She knows that he cares about things, that he’s given his whole life to his family and his best friends and his job and his passions. But, she knows Jungkook. She knows that he’s selfish and possessive and impulsive. So-hee knows that he thought he loved her, and So-hee knows that he still thinks he loves her, but So-hee knows better.

Jungkook dedicates everything in him to what he loves, and he dedicated himself to her. He loves her, according to him, but So-hee knows better because dedication runs out and love runs out and passion runs out. Jungkook is running on empty, and one day he would regret ever loving her, and then where would she be?

So-hee knows better.

She doesn’t even say goodbye when she leaves for the train. He’s still standing out in the nighttime rain, alone and soaking wet. She doesn’t look him in the eyes when she leaves, and she doesn’t turn around.

So-hee knows better. So-hee knows it’s for the better. She still does not look at Jungkook.

The train ride home is a long and silent one. She checks her twitter feed in an attempt to not make eye contact with any of the other people on the train, who are unsubtly staring at her dripping wet hair and soaked clothing. On the news, there’s a mention of a laundromat flooded by a freak accident, and So-hee catches a glimpse of a photo taken by the on-site reporters. In the background, there’s a man and he looks pathetic and exhausted and sad and determined. So-hee can’t look at him.

So-hee goes home to a pathetic, sad apartment, and she is deeply exhausted. She changes into dry clothes, and pins her hair up, and resolves to take a clean shower and change her sheets tomorrow. She passes out the moment she hits the bed, and she does not dream, because she never does.

She wishes she had, if only to justify the thoughts of Jungkook still remaining when she wakes up in the morning.

In the quiet light of morning, with music playing softly as she loses a fight with the omelette she’s attempting to make, she realizes that she cares a lot more than she wants to. She realizes that she cares a lot more than she should. It’s a startling realization, if only for how mundane it is. It crosses her mind leisurely, wearing the disguise of something normal, because it is something normal. The thought crosses the streets of her mind hand in hand with I’m hungry and Don’t forget to pick up mom’s perscription later and Is it embarrassing that I still can’t cook eggs.

I still love him, she thinks, and it’s completely normal.

I still love him, she thinks, and I still love him so much more than I should.

What makes her uncomfortable isn’t the thought, but the fact that the thought wasn’t uncomfortable. It’s an unsettlingly normal thought to have, like it’s lived inside her long enough to be comfortable, like it’s made a home in her mind.

What’s uncomfortable is that loving him is a part of her. What’s uncomfortable is that the love she has has settled into her home and her life and her routine. The love settles under her fingernails and in her hair, settles in the cat toys littered around her house and the trinkets that clutter her shelves and tables and workdesk.

She loved him and she loves him and she misses him.

In the soft light of morning, So-hee sits on her kitchen counter next to a plate of rapidly cooling eggs. Her legs swing and her cats bat at her socks, meowing and pestering her for food. So-hee doesn’t even look at them, her eyes faraway and staring down at her blindingly bright phone screen. She has a couple missed calls from a number she doesn’t recognize, and eventually just blocked once they started calling well into midnight, and one unread text message from an account she should’ve blocked a long time ago if she had any dignity.

Jungkook: we left our wallets at the laundromat.

So-hee takes a deep breath and steels herself.

So-hee: Thanks, I’ll pick it up there later today.

Jungkook: i dont think thats gonna work

So-hee: Why not?

Jungkook: they gave ur stuff to me bc my wallet was at the top of the basket and they assumed it was mine. the laundromat is still closed, is there anywhere i can meet u to give it back?

Let it be known that, usually, So-hee is a rational woman. Usually, she does not make decisions that will hurt herself, especially not knowingly, and she rarely ever makes rash decisions.

So-hee: Just come to my place to drop it off.

Usually, So-hee is a rational woman. Not always.

Jungkook: really???

So-hee: Do you not remember my address?

Jungkook: no i remember ur address ! i’ll be there in fifteen :)

So-hee: Alright. Drive safely.

So-hee is staring at her phone. So-hee puts her phone down, and does not scream or cry or have any other disproportinate and dramatic reaction. She is so calm and collected and not stressed in any way. So-hee is the most normal, well-adjusted woman in all of South Korea, possibly even the world, and one man will not change that for her.

To show how well-adjusted she is, she changes her clothes seven times in the mirror, and arranges and disassembles and rearranges a messy bun another fourteen times. On her seventh outfit —a baby tee and low waisted sweatpants with the same fuzzy socks— So-hee turns to see Hammer staring at her judgementally.

“Don’t look at me like that,” So-hee whines, throwing herself dramatically on the bed and burying her face in her hands.

Hammer does not respond, because Hammer is a cat.

“Don’t judge me, Hammer,” So-hee continues, “Not all of us can be nonchalant cool kids, you know?”

Hammer does not know. Hammer wants breakfast, not an existensial crisis.

The doorbell rings, and So-hee does not look up. The doorbell rings again, and it takes a moment, but So-hee flings herself up with wide eyes. She races out of her bedroom, checking herself in the mirror one more time. She looks perfect, because So-hee has always known that she’s gorgeous. But, this time, it’s not about being pretty. It’s about being cool. She slows as she reaches the front door, schooling her face into something that looks effortlessly calm, and opens the door.

“Hey,” Jungkook says, startled and looking slightly embarrassed.

“Hey yourself,” She says back, straight-faced. She’s so fucking cool. She steps back, and gestures for him to come inside. He hesitates, looking at her intently like he hasn’t been begging to be around her for the past month. She’s shocked he didn’t just open the door and sit on the couch all by himself.

“Are you sure?” He asks, and she rolls her eyes fondly.

“I’m always sure,” She says, lying through her teeth, “Anyway, I don’t know how you’d bring my laundry inside without, y’know, stepping inside?”

“Yeah,” He says, blushy and nervous, “Yeah, you’re right, sorry.” He stumbles through the door like he’s never done it before, like it’s not his thousandth time being in her house. It’s upsettingly endearing, the way that he’s a bumbling fool of a man.

“I’m always right, it’s nothing to apologize for.” So-hee says, shooting him a smile. She would say that she doesn’t know why she’s bothering to comfort him, but due to previous realizations that day, she thinks she has a pretty strong clue why. It starts with L and ends in oving this stupid idiot to an unhealthy degree.

He sets the laundry basket down in her living room, all of it dried out from being in police storage overnight as they emptied out everything that was once in the laundromat. It’s wrinkled, and she’ll have to find a new laundromat to rewash and dry everything, but it’s back in her possession. Marsh-ie and Hammer leave their spot at their food dishes and sprint as fast as their kitten legs can carry them to Jungkook, who laughs and crouches down to coddle them with babytalk and pets. So-hee remembers then that she has forgotten to feed them, so she moves over to the kitchen area, still watching him over the counter and thanking the apartment gods that she has one with an open concept kitchen and living space. She pours them both food and water softly, trying not to attract attention from them or Jungkook.

“Hi baby,” He coos, and So-hee flinches at the way she almost responds on instinct to the endearment. She turns quietly, but he’s immersed in Marsh-ie and Hammer’s antics, smiling softly as Marsh-ie bats at his hands and Hammer tries to climb up his back.

I love you, she almost says.

“Want some coffee?” She says instead, and he startles. She almost regrets disturbing him, but the cats have already left at the sound of her voice, realizing that breakfast has finally been served. He looks hopeful for a moment, and then deeply, deeply tired.

“I do,” He says glumly, and she furrows her brow in confusion at his downtrodden look.

“...But?” She prompts, and he looks downright murderous to the point that she’s almost worried for herself, before he finally stands up to look at her and his eyes soften to something sweeter. He smiles a smile that looks more like a forced grimace, and shakes his head.

“I’d stay, but the guys have been planning brunch for a while now, and Hobi would kill me if I cancelled on them this short notice,” Jungkook says. So-hee hums thoughtfully, and he looks at her nervously.

“No worries,” she says, “Thanks so much for coming then, if I had known I’d make you late for other plans I wouldn’t have asked.”

“It was my pleasure! The guys know that I’d do whatever you ask, so they won’t mind my lateness” He says with an earnest grin, and the worst part is that So-hee really does believe him. So-hee knows that he doesn’t even realize that what he says would be embarrassing for anyone else to admit, especially to their ex-girlfriend, and she knows that he doesn’t care. So-hee doesn’t understand that confidence, the disregard of any and every social boundary in a pursuit to show love for someone. She does understand the art of changing the subject though.

“Well, still, thanks for that. Have a safe drive over to brunch then, I won’t keep you waiting,” So-hee says, grabbing his jacket off the kitchen stool he draped it over and tossing it over his shoulders as he bends down to say bye to her cats. It’s quiet as Jungkook leaves, only the sound of residual cat purrs and the shuffling of him putting on sneakers. He puts the jacket on more firmly, and smiles hesitantly at her.

“Oh!” She says, and Jungkook takes a step back, eyes wide. He startles easily, So-hee notes absently, I don’t know why he’s so nervous.

“Yeah?” Jungkook questions tentatively, and she snaps her fingers at him.

“Hobi is the one with a dance studio, right?” She asks, leaning closer.

“Uh, yeah, he is. I didn’t think you remembered that-”

“Of course I remembered, I remember everything you tell me,” she says absently, waving him off as she scrambles around her kitchen for a pen and paper. She’s rummaging through a junk drawer when she calls over to him, “Wait just a second!” Jungkook’s barely paying attention anyway though, his eyes wide and his hand over his mouth as he repeats her words disbelieving under his breath.

“Everything?” He whispers, and she hums in questioning. He goes to ask further, but she shoves a notecard with a phone number and a name on it into his hands.

“If Hobi’s ever looking for a ballet instructor, he can call this number,” So-hee rambles, “It’s one of my cousins on my mom’s side, and she’s such a great dancer that it’s almost maddening. She’s a little annoying, but not terribly so, and she’s such a fantastic teacher-”

“Wait, So-hee-” Jungkook tries, but she’s still talking.

“And if he has any space in that contemporary class, tell him to let me know because my sister has been scrambling for a good dance studio nearby for her daughter.”

“I’ll have to ask Jimin, because he teaches contemporary. But, So-hee-”

“Alright, thanks so much, you’re the best in the world, I literally love you so much.” So-hee says breathlessly, and Jungkook feels just as breathless, the air knocked out of him. His face is a little pale and his hands are a little shaky, and So-hee frowns, lightly putting her fingers on his shoulder.

“What’s wrong?” she asks, “You look a little sick, Jungkook, are you-”

I literally love you so much. I literally love you so much.

Oh, fuck.

Jungkook looks at her, and So-hee looks at him, both of them now pale and slightly shaky.

“I-” So-hee starts and then doesn’t finish, the words barely leaving her. Jungkook’s eyes are shiny, and hopeful, and So-hee hates herself for how much she wants to fall into them, into him. She loves him.

So-hee loves Jungkook. So-hee loves Jungkook more than she’s ever loved anything, and that is a big, scary feeling to feel. So-hee’s love could fill an ocean, and that is a big, scary place to be able to fill with love for one man, one person, one anything.

Love is a big, scary thing.

“I think you should go,” So-hee says, instead of saying any of that. So-hee is a coward.

Jungkook smiles at her, all sad and soft and patient. So-hee hates him. So-hee hates that stupid face and stupid smile and stupid patience that makes her feel cruel and evil and mean. She hates him and she’s terrified of him and she loves him.

“I love you,” Jungkook says, because Jungkook cannot just be reckless and immature because that would be too easy, but he must also be patient and loving and brave. She hums in acknowledgement, and he hesitates for a moment, but he leans in and kisses her right under her eye.

So-hee didn’t even realize she was near tears until right then. She doesn’t say anything, even as he fully walks out the door and slowly shuts it behind him. So-hee can’t even cry. She just stares at the wall and pets her cats and it’s so quiet. So-hee wishes she had begged Jungkook to stay for a few more minutes, if only for the sound of him embarrassingly babytalking her cats could drown out what she hears in her own thoughts. There’s the leftover heat of a kiss right below her eyes, and she wipes harshly at her eyes, partially to clear the tears and partially a futile attempt to remove the sting of what could’ve been, if So-hee stopped being so scared all the time.

In So-hee’s apartment, where a light breeze flutters the curtains but the bright sun warms the floor, So-hee can hear the vivid sounds of an ocean flooding a laundromat and the impossibly clearer sound of her heart breaking on her kitchen floor.

So-hee loves Jungkook, and So-hee is terrified of loving Jungkook, and So-hee hopes that love is not found in a laundromat. Selfishly, So-hee hopes that Jungkook continues to love her and continues to wait for her, and continues to pursue her so that one day, she can love him in a place where she isn’t surrounded by baskets of her dirty laundry.

The dirty laundry, So-hee reminds herself with a glance at the laundry basket sitting innocently by her couch. Jungkook’s sweatshirt lies at the top, next to her wallet and a note in his familar bad handwriting that says ‘I love you.’

I love you, So-hee says back, if only in her own mind.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #han so hee #han so-hee #jungkook fanfic #seven jungkook #seven #bts #bts fanfic #kpop #kpop fanfic #༄˖°🪐 writes

7 notes · View notes

space-blue · 1 year

Note

Quaritch and recom Quaritch are not the same characters. I mean second is a clone with implanted memories so why always I read about this character all people write like both are the same? Recom Quaritch feels and acts because of memories from human Quaritch. For me it's weird because I hated a lot original Quaritch but when I watched Avatar 2 I was like nooo way I like his clone?. haha Just to add other point of view. Greetings, thank you!

Dear anon,

I'd like to preface this reply by saying I don't know how the fandom depicts him, really. I discuss him with friends in the recom-centric server, and I read their snippets and some of their fics, but I'm one of those writers who avoids reading the characters they write.

My brain is aggressively pantser oriented. If I read a story, if I even imagine it in full, then "it is told" and I lose interest in writing it. "Two cakes" only exists as a reader for me. I can't write the second take on a concept I've read. It feels like a chore. I also dislike reading a really smart idea about the character because I might feel like I can't implement it.

I like to give myself time to come up with my own strong vision of a character before I start reading them written by others. If I pick up a fic with them it'll usually be with a concept/style I'd never go for (that includes smut).

So yeah, I don't know how "the fandom" portrays him. I'll give you my two cents though, for free :

Quaritch and Recom Quaritch ARE the same person. By design. They share the same memories. I am totally writing a fic in which the memories are edited, but that's not hinted at in canon.

A clone with memories is meant to be the same, on day 1. He is designed to be the same. He's made in universe by the RDA to be the same, and by the Avatar team to be the same.

What makes recom Q interesting is that he starts diverging from that day 1 onward. Every experience he has is filtered through the qualia of a fundamentally alien body. Taste, smell, vision, hearing, touch, experience of pain, not to mention the sensory blast of having new limbs and organs!

And then new experiences a smart recom can't miss : potential discrimination, bottom of the company totem pole (a loss of privilege a white man with titles like Quaritch must feel keenly), the way they're turned into disposable guinea pigs from the 1st mission, the impossibility of going back home, the fact they're basically slaves, company owned bodies and endlessly duplicable minds...

They get time to think on all that. Does it affect them? Do they double down on their mission out of spite? Hope for a better future? A shot at freedom? Are they brain-dead killers looking to shoot things no matter what body they're in? (Looking at you Lyle..)

That's where the tasty lives. In that dichotomy between a human mind that makes them the same, and an alien body that makes them different. That's why recoms, Q and others, are so compelling. There's a ton of room for emotional angst, and a lot of directions to take character growth in as we patiently await.

I feel like different writers will make him go places at different paces, and that's fine. He hasn't changed that much over the course of the film. We don't know Avatar 1's Quaritch that well, so how much atwow changes Recom Q is really up to interpretation.

But I feel like this is just arguing on philosophy.

You, as an individual, are in constant flux, but you are also informed by your past. Do you believe in determinism? In fate? In Free Will? Because there's a whole branch of philosophy/neurology that makes a VERY compelling argument that we don't have free will. It doesn't help that science has proven that our brain often sends signals before we've made a conscious decision to act.

It's still a very hot topic, as we don't know where consciousness resides/how it works (the philosophy of mind teacher in Adelaide uni opened his class by saying if we were smart about it there was a nobel prize to be won lol)

What's compelling about Recoms is that even if you believe in the absence of free will you have to admit that the change in qualia by definition alters their character and takes them down new roads. But it's fine to me if writers think the mind inside the recom is still human and struggles to remain true to itself for a long time.

A Quaritch desperate for change is as tasty as a Quaritch who struggles to hang on to his past as a raison d'être.

He's a babygirl because he's cursed. He carries the "sins of the father" in the most literal manner possible. Not only in universe but IN FANDOM. People actively blame Recom Quaritch for what Human Quaritch did in A1, not realising they are not the same person, even if Recom Quaritch still feels like they are and can replay the whole scene in his mind.

It's FUCKED and I'm soooo here for it!

It's also why it's so different with recom Q. He's not the same visually, and he's got so many new layers added by his situation that you're face first in a blue cake.

#Quaritch #miles quaritch #colonel quaritch #recom quaritch #recoms #recombinants #avatar #avatar meta #anon ask #atwow #atwow meta #character study #headcanons and ideas #thanks for the ask anon #I like meta asks I used to get lots in Arcane for some reason

80 notes · View notes

tigermark · 10 months

Text

extra sweet •ू♡ lee taeyong

- pairing : taeyong x gn!reader

- synopsis : before spending the night with taeyong, you head to the convenient store to by snacks!!

- genre : fluff, like 2 seconds of angst

- contains : established relationship, food, cuddling, watching a scary movie

- a/n : shalala is SO GOODDDDD oh my gosh taeyong is absolutely adorable i love this guy!!! anyway, i hope you enjoy and make sure to stream shalala 😛

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

you basically spent the whole day with taeyong, and it was time for you to head home. however, it was very clear that he wanted you to stay. every time you got ready to leave he'd interrupt you with a 'wait but...' and some excuse so you'd have to stay a few extra minutes.

halfway to the door, you were stopped by taeyong who had grabbed your forearm.

"one more kiss?" he says, lips pouty.

you nod, and he pulls you close, connecting your lips. one hand finds its way to your waist, the other combing through your hair. he pulls away, pecking you one last time before he allows you to escape his grasp.

you continue towards the door, looking over your shoulder before opening the door. taeyong's lips have a very pronounced pout, all red and puffy from the endless kisses over the last few hours.

that's when you break.

you run towards him, dropping your belongings somewhere along the way. your arms wrap around him in a bear hug, swaying him side to side.

"i'll spend the night, i know you want me to," you whisper into the back of his neck.

a huge smile creeps onto his face, and all he wants to do is just cheer like he won a nobel prize.

"can we watch that new horror movie on netflix? i heard its really good," he asks excitedly, playing with the hairs on the back of your neck.

you pull away from the hug to look him in the eyes. "taeyong, when have you ever sat through a horror movie without screaming your head off?"

he breaks the eye contact, staring at the floor. "like never.. but, i'll man up, i can power through!" he says determined.

you give him a look that says 'i don't believe that for a second, but alright' and nod slowly.

"well, if we're gonna watch a movie we need snacks. do you have any?"

he turns towards the kitchen. "we can go check, i don't think i do though."

you both walk to the kitchen to his snack cabinet, and open it to see a few protein bars, trail mix, and sugar free jello.

"gross, let's just go buy some stuff yeah?" you suggest, looking towards his direction.

he nods, closing the cabinet as you get ready to leave.

"ready?" you ask as he finishes tying his shoelace.

"yup, let's go!!" he says enthusiastically.

the whole walk to the store you held hands. holding hands with taeyong was something else entirely. he made you feel comforted, and 10x closer than you were. his thumb caresses, giggles when you swung your hands, and unnecessarily hard squeezes were more than lovely.

"you think they'll finally have those chips we tried that one time? i guess they're so good that they're always sold out..." he asks, not expecting an actual answer.

"hmm, maybe. i went here a few nights ago and they did, but you know how fast things fly off the shelves," you respond, attempting to be as useful as possible.

upon arriving to the store, taeyong pretty much dragged you to the chip isle. "yn, yn look!! they do have them!!" he says, overjoyed.

"ohmygod we need to buy them!!" you respond, sharing his excitement.

he nods eagerly, shoving two bags into the basket he grabbed on the way in. he wanders down the aisles, you following closely behind.

"what candy do you want?" he asks, looking at you.

"hmm.. how about some chocolate? i'll let you choose which one," you respond.

he smiles at you, reviewing the selection of chocolate they have. he grabs his favorite, the one you knew he would grab, and puts it in the basket along with the chips.

"i have some soda at my apartment, so unless you want anything else we can check out," he says, turning to face you. he sees you eyeing a bag of gummies on the shelf. you grab them, and they get placed in the basket with the other array of snacks.

you make your way to the cash register, and place your basket on the counter.

after making some small talk with the cashier and watching them scan everything, taeyong pays and you're on your way.

"are there any movies you had in mind? you know, in case we do chicken out," you ask, aware of the possibilities.

"not really, but we can always look," he answers, looking down at your hand in his. "i usually just watch some funny youtube videos to calm me down."

you nod at his suggestion, trying not to laugh at the image in your head of taeyong cuddled up on his couch watching something funny after screaming to a jumpscare. you accidentally let out a little giggle, causing taeyong to look in your direction.

"what's so funny?" he asks innocently.

"nothing," you say between laughs.

"no, c'mon tell me!" he pushes.

"it's just the idea of you watching some stupid cat video compilation after a scary movie is so funny to me," you say before bursting out into laughter.

he whines, squeezing your hand tighter. "stop making fun of me! it actually helps, just wait and see!"

you nod through your laughs, and the rest of your walk home is filled with your occasional giggles and taeyong defending himself.

upon arriving back at taeyong's house, you place your bags next to the couch and get some drinks before settling onto the couch.

he turns on the tv and opens netflix, searching for the movie. he pauses to read the movie description, and you hear him let out a shaky breath before pressing play.

the start of the movie pulls you in, and you're more interested than you thought you'd be. taeyong, however, is on edge the whole time. even when there is just a quick camera change you can feel him jump and scoot closer to you.

the actual horror part of the movie starts with a simple jumpscare, and taeyong pretty much screeches. he jumps into your arms, burying his head in your neck. you wrap your arms around him to comfort him, trying your absolute best to not laugh at him.

"is it over..?" he asks, voice shaky.

"well i paused it so unless you wanna finish it yeah," you respond, nodding in the direction of the tv.

"i feel bad ruining this," he rests his head on your shoulder, face turned towards your neck. "i don't wanna move though."

he kisses the skin on your neck closest to his lips, keeping his lips puckered against you. when you trace small shapes on his upper back, you feel him smile. he pulls away from your neck, meeting your eyes.

"can we just watch those kitten videos now..?" he murmurs.

"of course we can," you smile, grabbing the remote to open youtube.

taeyong turns around on your lap, sitting himself in between your legs. you type 'funny cat videos' into the youtube search, clicking on the first result.

you wrap your arms around taeyong's waist, your head resting on his shoulder. you both giggle at the video every now and then, slowly getting tired.

after about an hour of watching stupid youtube videos, you and taeyong are both on the verge of falling asleep.

"c'mon, let's go to sleep.." he says, tiredness lacing his voice.

you nod sleepily, and you let taeyong guide you to his bedroom. his smell travles through the air, making his room seem even more comfortable than it already was.

you both head into the bathroom, brushing your teeth and doing your skincare together. you put on some of taeyong's clothes to sleep in that he gave to you, and collapse into bed.

taeyong follows you shortly after, tangling your bodies together in a lazy cuddle. his head finds its way to your chest, and you go to play with his hair immediately while taeyong slowly caresses your skin.

it doesn't take very long for the both of you to fall asleep, finding comfort in each other's warmth.

#taeyong #taeyong nct #nct #nct 127 #nct u #nct fluff #kpop #nct fanfic #tigermark

48 notes · View notes