#no idea where the even start with getting an industry job no clue what i even WANT at this point | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

pttucker · 6 months

Text

Okay, so, I've been thinking about some of my more recent posts and have started to combine them with some of my older posts and think I've come up with another theory that I want to throw out into the wild while we've still got like 40% of the novel left to go.

Well, actually it's not really a new theory for me per se, but I think I've finally cemented it whereas in the past I've had vague suspicions. Which has resulted in another giant post.

tl;dr: there are three stories in the novel, with the novel itself being Dokja's story and I think by the end Dokja will realize that he's inside ORV itself in a sort of Neverending Story kind of way, the Fourth Wall is between him and our world (and maybe also him and TWSA), and that the true Omniscient Reader's Viewpoint belongs to us.

So, anyway, I recently made a post about Han Sooyoung being the author of TWSA and overall I think this current arc we're going through right now is another major allegory / foreshadow for how the characters relate to TWSA, just like the Peace Land arc. But thinking on it some more, I think this arc (and possibly also Peace Land) is also showing how they relate to ORV itself.

Like, I actually even specifically said that certain passages relate to the overall plot of ORV such as this one—

Regrettably, there was no guarantee of the work ending up as a success even if the author did an excellent job. – Time to start our attack, Yoo Joonghyuk. Because the ones to complete the story were the 'Characters', not the author, that's why.

—and I think by taking that just a tiny step further, in combination with other clues, ORV itself will end up being almost a Neverending Story type of deal. Not necessarily with Dokja trying to talk to us like Sebastian and the Childlike Empress, but literally just realizing that he's a character in a novel.

Which is something Dokja has technically already realized, and maybe even unconsciously accepted, not only because of the above passage where he lowkey calls himself a character but also because he's seen that he's listed as a character when he messed around with the Fourth Wall (more on that later) and we have no idea if he recently became one or if he's always been a character and didn't realize it.

Unrestrained questions flooded my head. Why did I get this story here? What was the relationship between that story and being called a character? Was I now a character or was I still a reader? I… Was I still able to change the future?

However, I think the big reveal for Dokja is going to be not that he's a character but that the novel is not TWSA but instead ORV.

In fact, I know I've been using "TWSA" as kind of a shorthand for the world that Dokja is now in, with the scenarios and Joonghyuk and such, as compared to the "real world" he was in before as a company worker, but technically speaking TWSA is not Dokja's story. He is not inside TWSA. TWSA still exists as a completely separate text that he has access to and every time he looks at the revisions of TWSA they are still Joonghyuk's story. They go all the way up to the 1863rd round, and while Dokja is in the TWSA revisions, that's because Dokja is a part of Joonghyuk's story in the third round.

And speaking of the revisions, I kind of breezed past this in the tags of another post but Dokja got the Final Revision immediately after thinking to himself that he wants "an author" to tell him that he did good, that it's all going to work out in the end, that he's made the right choices. At the time I thought that perhaps Sooyoung could be the author of the revisions but now I don't think so anymore.

Going back through the text, the First Revision appeared when Dokja was dying in the Industrial Complex and he wanted to read TWSA to try to figure out if there was any sort of hope to fix things without having to ruin his story by killing innocent people. (And honestly he wasn't in any shape to kill people even if he wanted to at that point.) The Second Revision came after he abandoned Breaking the Sky Sword Saint to fight the outer god alone and felt like crap because of it (to be fair she shoved him through the portal while he was still trying to convince her to come) and he and Joonghyuk had a mini-conversation about what to do after and all Dokja could think of is to just keep struggling as best they can.

Basically what I'm trying to say is that all of the revisions have come when Dokja is at an extremely low point, floundering, trying to have someone tell him what to do, tell him that he's made the right choices, etc. Except not once has he actually said anything to anyone in the story around him. He didn't actually end up asking Sooyoung if he did the right thing; he wanted her to tell him it's going to be okay but he only thought it. Just like every other time the revisions have appeared. Almost like they came from someone else who can see what he's going through right then and knows he needs a little help...

Also, back when Sooyoung's version of the story first appeared, I was a little confused by the (First) after it, thinking that maybe Joonghyuk only had the first part of the story, but then later we see that Joonghyuk has 『Han Sooyoung – Records of the 1863rd turn (Last)』.

So now I don't think Sooyoung is writing the TWSA revisions, even if I do think she wrote the original TWSA, and I think that her story is also getting revised as she changes it because she is also a character in which "the ones to complete the story were the 'Characters', not the author" applies.

And speaking of the stories, I kind of went off on a sort of three, three, three tangent in the Sooyoung post, but I realize now that that can be taken even further. There's three unknown beings still left in ORV (Secretive Plotter, Oldest Dream, TWSA's Author), there's three protagonists in both TWSA and ORV, there's three people involved in a novel (Reader, Writer, Character), and there's three ways to the survive the apocalypse. Which, TWSA lists those ways as Regressor, Returnee, and Reincarnator.

But, technically, aren't we also seeing three ways to survive the apocalypse right now? Joonghyuk's way in TWSA, Han Sooyoung's way in her diary, and Dokja's way in ORV itself. Not to mention, now that I think about it, we have Regressor Joonghyuk, Returnee Dokja, and now Reincarnator Sooyoung...

Three separate stories, all sort of TWSA but not technically, more like they're all different versions of the same story. And the dokkaebi's have recently started talking about "which story will you choose" (talking to Bihyung btw, who's been helping Dokja all this time...) and everyone else in ORV keeps going on about a Single Story and how they're all vying for their true story and ending. And how maybe the true story/ending has finally come. Because this particular timeline is going through Dokja's story...which is ORV.

And too when I had the post about the "failed stories" I wondered if maybe it was foreshadowing for ORV ending in tragedy (and maybe that's still true) but also now that I think about the "failed stories" and how both Sooyoung's story and Joonghyuk's story could be considered the "failed stories" in a loose way. Granted, we don't currently know how those stories actually ended since ORV started off with Dokja waiting for the epilogue and the 1863rd ending was disrupted by Dokja, though Dokja has been pretty heavily implying that at least TWSA ended in tragedy up to the epilogue. And with the Single Story it's possible that all three of them will end up combined in the end of ORV itself.

Especially since we don't know what happened to 1864th Joonghyuk. It's possible we may see him again at the end of ORV. Also, I just realized that Joonghyuk stopped being a character when he moved past what was written in his personal story but, atm at least, he's also past ORV's story since we haven't seen him since and Dokja has no way of knowing what's going on with him.

On the topic of endings and epilogues, Dokja has been less and less willing to read TWSA as he starts living his own story and has finally outright said that he doesn't think his epilogue will be in the file. And, yeah, if Dokja's story is ORV then his epilogue would be ORV's epilogue. And ORV does have one. Even though I don't read the chapter titles ahead of time due to spoilers, I did notice when I looked to see how many total chapters ORV has that the last one had the word "epilogue" in the title.

And that's not even getting into Dokja casually stating that the novel is a lie. Which is very interesting.

And of course, there's the infamous moment where (while Dokja is sleeping I might add) the Fourth Wall starts telling the 1863rd Joonghyuk Dokya's story and it literally starts reciting the opening passages of ORV itself. And I'm pretty sure that when Sangah shoved him into it, he once again saw Dokja's story (ORV) just due to the fact that he zeroed in on not just Secretive Plotter, who doesn't appear in TWSA, but specifically all the things Secretive Plotter did in regards to and with Dokja.

In fact, as Dokja messes around with his Fourth Wall more and more, it becomes more and more sentient and present in Dokja's story (ORV) and he starts seeing things that perhaps he, as a character of ORV, was never meant to see, such as the fact that he's a character or that the Fourth Wall goes from simply blocking mental attacks to narrating Dokja's actions, reflecting his thoughts, etc. Just like ORV does for us readers.

I've actually briefly contemplated in the past that perhaps the Fourth Wall isn't necessarily protecting Dokja from the elements of TWSA, but in fact protecting him from the outside world (relevant part quoted below)—

Oh man, what if that's what it means by Fourth Wall? Instead of Dokja being a real person and the Fourth Wall existing because he knows he's not part of the novel, what if he's a character and the Fourth Wall is actually the barrier between him and the real world where the author lives? In which case, the being behind the Fourth Wall could be the author (or the reader!) of Dokja's story.

—and I then later began to wonder if it might be our world and not just some random third world inside the story of ORV, and I really do think that's the case now. Or it could be both! If I'm reading a comic about Batman who's reading a comic about Spider-Man, both I and Batman have a Fourth Wall between us and the fictional world we're reading about, ergo Batman has a Fourth Wall working both ways. (Ignore past Marvel/DC Comics team ups, pretty sure those aren't considered canon lol.)

And this is not only because of the fact that the Fourth Wall is acting more and more like a narrator (or like the third-person text of ORV) but that Dokja reacts so poorly to it going down. Sure, the first time the Fourth Wall went down a million constellations tried to attack him so that caused him issues, but later when he took down a little bit of it for the giants he was in a place with only his most trusted constellations who didn't seem to make any attempt to attack him and he only opened it up a teeny tiny amount and yet he still was physically wrecked. I don't think that he would be that affected by now by the elements of TWSA, especially since he literally learned he was a character and was freaked out for a moment but didn't have this big world-ending crisis...like he might if he attempted to connect to our world. Also, Dokja still hasn't gone back to the idea of using ORV on himself...

And on that topic, I know that I've kind of joked before that Dokja is the most oblivious person ever for someone who also happens to be able to read various characters' minds and see their actions, but honestly speaking there are tons of parts of ORV that are from other POVs that Dokja has never and likely will never see. I actually started tracking them about a hundred chapters back and we get a different POV, even if it's just a few paragraphs, almost every third or fourth chapter. And they're all from the third-person POV, just like how the Fourth Wall speaks.

Meaning that the true omniscient reader's viewpoint is ours.

PS: a very weak "clue" that I'm not really "officially" including is also the fact that The World After The Fall is mentioned as a book that Dokja has read and that's a real webnovel written by the same authors as ORV. I'm not really counting that since I do understand the concept of a cheeky little cameo but it could still be fun to at least acknowledge the possibility that it's something that secretly indicates that Dokja is maybe a little more connected with our world than any of the others.

PPS: I think if I find time this weekend I'm gonna go back through at tag everything or make a list of all my posts or something. Trying to find links for this majorly sucked and I just kind of gave up at points lmfao.

#I swear all I do lately is wander around in a daze thinking about ORV #I took a shower and zoned out so hard contemplating this theory I couldn't remember if I washed my hair or not #And then I got to work and realized I forgot to take my medication #ORV IS LITERALLY GOING TO KILL ME #lol I think I'm a bit tuckered out from all this theorizing all at once #well at least all this long form theorizing/meta analysis #time to go back to my regularly scheduled programming where I just react to dokja being a little shit and everyone else going along with it #orv #orv spoilers #orv liveblog #orv novel chapter 377 #omniscient reader's viewpoint #long post #kdj #yjh #hsy

21 notes · View notes

neonblessing · 7 months

Text

⚠️ SPOILER ALERT! ⚠️ Click here to read Neon Blessing from the beginning!

Shiv pocketed the phone, then reached out and took Ornarch’s withered hand. “I’ll do it.”

Her god smiled. “I knew I could count on you.” With a twist of his long, thin fingers, a sleek black card appeared and found its way between her fingers. “Twenty thousand credits.”

Shiv nearly dropped the card in surprise. “Twenty thousand?!” The payout for picking a pocket was three digits at the highest: cards would be canceled long before they could be used, and there was always the risk that the mark might have augments or trackers. B&E paid better, but you needed to find a fence who could break into stolen electronics, and they were almost universally scum. The shit she and Raz had looted on the botched job could have been worth a hundred grand, even after a steep cut from both Ornarch and a middleman, but that had taken weeks of planning and cost her an arm. Twenty thousand up front was unthinkable.

Ornarch waved a hand dismissively, rings glinting in the industrial glare. “Grease some palms, hire some muscle, buy a gun. Whatever makes the job easier.”

“Thank you, lord.” She hesitated a moment, realizing she had no idea where to start looking. “Do you have any leads?”

“How were Raz’s finances?”

“About as broke as me, I think. Those implants cost a lot.”

“So they’d need to sell off some of the haul to get away from here. They aren’t safe in the Diluvian, and fare out of here is pricey.”

“I’ll ask around.”

“Wonderful.”

“Any idea as to why they did it?”

“No. No clue.” She almost choked on the words. That was the worst part, the bit that kept her up at night. What could have been so important that they’d just leave her?

“Ah well. Good luck, Shiv.” The dismissal, unspoken, was irrefutable. She would do what he wanted, he would give her what she wanted. The conversation was over. For all his immortality, Ornarch was not a patient god.

Shiv turned to leave, the roar of water rushing up to meet her as she approached the exit of the pipe. Could she even kill them? In a fistfight, even down an arm, definitely. Guns were a toss-up given that neither of them knew how to shoot. But of course, Raz was a skulljack, and a good one at that.

Skulljack. It was a dirty word, the worst kind of mage. Raz’s brilliant blue undercut hid dozens of neurocranial implants–translators and antennae and arcane batteries–all bent towards one terrible purpose: the subjugation of the will. In that dingy waiting room before their first operation, she’d told them not to do it, but she’d come to rely on their skills in the years since: skulljacking took too long to be useful in a fight, but it was priceless in an interrogation.

Of course, skulljacking was easier the better you knew someone, and they’d grown up together. Over a decade and a half, she and Raz had bared every last rotten secret–had aired out every scrap of encryption around their souls. They promised they’d never fuck with her, but would she know if they had? Even if they hadn’t, how long could she hold out against someone who knew her first crush, all her fears, and everything she’d ever dreamt of?

As she climbed the stairs back to street level, her nervous thoughts sublimated into a mantra, repeated with every step.

I’m not who I was a month ago. That woman could never imagine killing them. I can.

First Page – Previous Page – Next Page

#6 #neon blessing #shiv #ornarch

29 notes · View notes

that-wizard-oki · 5 months

Note

How did you start doing jobs for kingsisle?? I'm trying to break into the industry as an artist, and I have no clue how to approach potential employers, even just for commissions 😭😭

Hey! So I actually work full time with KingsIsle as a character animator- my job year round is to make pets, mounts, mobs, npc's move :D

How I got started here is kind of a wild story. I had been wanting to reach out to KI about possibly interning with them post-graduation- I had a few people I semi knew at the company, and knew I'd have a good portfolio piece to show them from my senior thesis project. However, three days before graduation, a friend from KI msg'ed me that KI was doing summer internships, and asked if I was interested. I spent the next 3 days building my portfolio website/resume & sent it to my friend. A month and two interviews later, they accepted me! Once my internship was drawing to and end, they were able to offer me a full time position.

My #1 piece of advice for folks trying to break into the industry: MAKE CONNECTIONS. NETWORK. Obviously having dedication and building your artistic skills (whether that's character design, animation, story boarding, etc) is a huge part of it- like you can make as many connections as you want, but if you don't have a decent set of skills/a portfolio to back you up, then you might be out of luck there. But I cannot understate the importance of networking.

So, how do you make connections/network? My advice:

-I know everyone can't afford it, but going to an art school/college is a decent way to make connections- not just with teacher's who have worked in the industry themselves, but also with your future artists. Heck, I've been seeing younger artists like myself start their own studios. You can defo still make connections w/o college, but I just wanted to note that.

-Interact with artists/folks in the industry online. comment on their posts, ask them genuine questions. Most folks are happy to answer questions or give portfolio advice.

-Mentorships are a great thing- also something i see offered on twitter a lot. Some studio's like dreamworks have "internship" like programs where people who have recently graduation or are looking for a career change can apply to and learn from. I'd follow companies you're interested in via linkedin, or visit their websites to see if they offer things like this

-Also!! Participate in anijams, gamejams, art swaps, zines- these are all great ways to connect with fellow artists online. My college has an animation club that does anijams twice a year- which is a GREAT thing to put on your resume- it shows collaboration, dedication- things you need to be open to when working in the industry.

-I'd also say that trying to narrow down what you're really passionate about doing (for me, 3d animation just fit my heart the best) and learn more about it. Watch youtube videos, follow tutorials. Practice your anatomy, do gesture drawings from life, draw as many hands and feet as you can, lol. All things to help strengthen your skills! Consistency is key!!

I know that's a lot of info, so I just want to reiterate something: I've been at KI for about a year and a half now, and I am still just as passionate about this game as I was beforehand. That passion is one of my greatest assets. WANTING to do what I do for work makes working a lot easier, and produces a better product. If you have a passion, a drive to do something, you can do the damn thing. Making connections/being consistent as an artists can feel wildly overwhelming. But it doesn't have to be. You're worthy of sharing your art and ideas with the world, and people want to hear them. Baby steps! Start small. Heck talking to me already gets your started with networking :D

Hope that wasn't too rambly/answered some of your questions anon. Feel free to inbox or dm me if you wanna chat more- goes for anyone reading this :)

#oki answers a thing #anon

13 notes · View notes

mephestopheles · 9 months

Text

Y'all I am so fucking angry today. I am fuming. I am looking at apartments around me because my mother is trying to downsize, I can't afford nor do I particularly wish to move in with her, transit would become more obnoxious and I like my space. So she wants a space that is on one level and has similar amenities but someone already there to fix things if they fuck up.

Look, she's never lived in an apartment. She has no clue what the realities of living in an apartment are, and she's insulated enough she might be able to avoid some of the shit, but not all of it.

I know where I live is not the only place suffering a housing crisis. I know there are places that have insane rents. Nova Scotia and especially cape Breton has a very big issue, rather, a few.

One, we're mostly rural with spots of town/city and the rural is enough that the government considers the whole island rural. Which is hilarious depending on where you actually live. I'm 5-10 minutes from most amenities, and there are places that are an hour or two from similar amenities depending on which part of the island you're coming from. But that makes transportation entirely on cars, with little access to buses if you're out of the main routes.

This also means large apartment complexes are few and far between. There are some places with two or three units, and most are converted houses if that.

Two, there is a big racism issue here, and a pretty substantial classism issue. And the two make things worse. So much worse. From a systemic perspective, they both play into each other a lot but I'm an outside observer for a lot of things and I'm doing my best to unpack my own inherent biases.

In 2016/2017 there was a bit of a boom to the university here where they accepted a lot of overseas students. This is a good thing. the university did not have adequate housing established for all of the students that came. This is not good. This hurt the students, put them at risk for being taken advantage of, far away from home, and potentially homeless because they couldn't move into residence.

Landlords around here got fucking greedy. Average rents around here in 2016 was around $650-700, 800$ for a two bedroom apartment, and that was pushing it and generally that was all inclusive. My first apartment was $650 utilities included, I only had to pay for wifi.

But these landlords were starting to charge that for rooms. They started buying up houses as they could get them, for relatively cheap and turn them into "student" housing, unofficially. Jack the rents up and charge a fortune to these students who came over here to get a "recognized education" which is another shitty part of the racism equation*. So rental prices across the board started to increase and folks started to get ideas about the apartment side hustle business that sprouted.

*Before anyone gets the idea that I'm against immigration, my issue is not the influx of students. My issue is with severe lack of accountability and planning on behalf of the university for how many students they were accepting vs how much housing they had available on and off campus. Much like those who currently live here, I want those who come here not to be placed in a vulnerable position and exploited by housing or by institutions that will not or cannot help them due to other systemic issues also brought on or influenced by systemic racism.

This also disproportionately affected those on social assistance, as really shitty landlords would renovict places or let them turn to shit so they would get compensated by the government to fix the property.

Some of the places that remain cheaper, are so far outside of the transit sections that it becomes dangerous. Like walk on the shoulder of the highway and hope you're not going to get hit, dangerous.

Prior to this, the job market around here was absolute shit, and a lot of folks were working out west, so the industries were slowly dying out. And even this is a weird mix of classism because most jobs available are call centres or retail. Anyone working a trade left to go out west, because the ones operating the trades around here weren't yet willing or ready to retire.

The combination of isolation, a lot of money, fast paced work with very few social outlets, brought a lot of drugs here and opened a lot of folks up to medicating to deal with the very real social isolation and the need to stay awake to earn more overtime, or prove yourself to the crew. Couple that with making more money than you've ever seen before and access only to lose it because the jobs started drying up and then covid started closing things. Plenty of folks lost their homes due to sudden loss of income, opioid and other drug dependency issues, and suddenly the issues surrounding houselessness around here skyrocketed. Becoming terrifyingly high after 2022.

Fast forward to 2020 and beyond, you have a housing market now influenced by our of towners (note, I am specifically not mentioning persons of colour as the vast majority of our of towners are those who have moved here from Ontario because their buying power goes so much further here, it's mostly white middle class suburban boomers) buying up properties sight unseen and creating a buying war on the otherside of this terrible equation.

Now it's 2023, and the government and the banks are doing the same fucking thing it did the last times house prices and inflation started and hiked interest rates up. It's not addressing the issues because the issue is fixed costs and and profiteering not extraneous spending

I got my place on 2021, and lucked into a really nice place with a really good rate. But the average two bedroom is almost double my current rent. In three years. Less than.

When searching for a place for mom, I found one that is 2000sq feet, two car garage, no utilities included, and unfurnished. Lawn care and snow removal were included but it's $3000 a month for a place I can't ever afford.

You can't tell me that someone isn't just pawning off the mortgage for both sides of the duplex. I was looking at duplexes for sale and most are $420,000.00 at the lowest I've seen.

Folks were selling their homes around here for 200k plus above what they would normally even consider. When I was first deciding to move to my current apartment I was looking at houses near where my new office was going to be, and there was a gorgeous little house 3 bedroom, full backyard for 64k. I showed it to @striving-artist and yeah that kind of price was a little low for around here but not "hey what's hiding in the basement" low.

All of this to say that there are not nearly enough places to rent, let alone rent safely. The prices are obscene for where some of these places are located.

And now we're dealing with climate weather a fuck tonne which is affecting everything that covid didn't outright punish.

I am so angry.

#I'm so fucking exhausted #apartment hunting was bad when i was just doing it years ago #now I'm just incensed and i want to yell a lor

12 notes · View notes

aintgonnatakethis · 18 days

Note

for the WIP game:

Cupiosexual James Bond - June: Mermaids

What Big Teeth You Have

Thanks for the ask! 😄

Cupiosexual James Bond - June: Mermaids

Part of The Aspec Year challenge, which I'd encourage everyone to get involved in, as the world needs more aspec writing! I've written a decent amount of ace and aro characters, so was wondering about microlabels, as I myself identify as aegosexual. I found cupiosexual, which means someone who doesn't experience sexual attraction but still wants sexual relationship and my brain instantly matched it up with Bond.

There's definitely a discussion to be had around him having had sexual attraction at one point, but due to the frankly abusive job he has to endure on a daily basis, he no longer does. Bodies being a tool is something I've talked about a lot for other characters (specifically David Telford from SGU) and the damage it does to a person's psyche, where they begin to view themselves as a tool and not even a person… Yeah, that's the good shit!

I'm not sure if I'll be going the angst route with this fic - it's my aim but you know how The Characters can be! Anyway I've started it off with Bond bringing Q gifts from his deployments, as I can never get enough of that idea.

It had started roughly six months ago, gifts beginning to appear on Q's desk without anything attached that could give him a clue as to who his sudden benefactor was. There didn't appear to be a pattern in temperament or price. A stuffed elephant one time, a box of the finest Cuban cigars the next, followed by a Newton's cradle with tiny cats hanging off the outermost balls, followed by a puzzle box intricate enough to flummox Q for a record two days - a flattened Roman coin inside - followed by a gigantic cat tree, still contained in its four large boxes. Q had questioned his staff and actually believed them when they swore they hadn't seen who'd left them, even if it seemed nigh on impossible to smuggle so many metre-and-a-half square boxes through the bowels of MI6 without anyone noticing.

What Big Teeth You Have

I've already discussed this one a bit here, but the Telford werewolf idea is an idea completely owned by @judgeverse and I'm merely borrowing it! As I talked about how it ended up in the cracky side of things on the other ask, here I'll post what I was aiming for when I started: some homoerotic violence!

Young's eyes flashed dangerously, his voice very low when he next spoke. "You get one chance to leave under your own power." The back of Rush's neck prickled with warning, but he found himself incapable of backing away from the challenge laid in front of him. Young didn't respect him as it was, and he never would if Rush turned tail and ran now. He jutted his chin out. "You're not going to touch me." Without breaking eye contact, Young dropped his pile of blankets to the side with a thump. A moment later an answering thud came from behind Telford's door, which Rush had a scant few seconds to wonder about before Young planted both hands into his chest and shoved him roughly backwards, sending him crashing to the floor in a wild tangle of limbs. Rush gasped for breath, taken off guard and winded by the sudden attack. He couldn't believe one of the soldiers had actually laid hands on him! He'd been assured by Doctor Jackson that things were different within the programme as compared to the military industrial complex at large. He'd said sure, they can be brusque and stubborn when it comes to what they believe, but we're very strict on who we let into the program. Jack's never put a finger on me. They're good guys.

These two men brawling until they're both bloody and gasping for breath? 😍 They're made for it tbh.

WIP game

#tag game #wip game #writeblr #my quote #mine #etoilesombre #ace stuff #james bond #sgu

2 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 2 years

Note

Okay I need a space to rant and I think you are comfortable to talk to so here it goes. I took a gap year before college right. But that was only bc idk what I want to do. I want to go to college but Idk what degree to choose, idk what I want to do as a profession either. I want to go into economics or finance. Something around there but I have no clue what degree or what profession and I feel pressured to decide soon since I need to apply for college in a few months

Can you organize my finances? Yeah, I know the section labelled BTS is bigger than all the others but I have a good reason, well, maybe it's not a good reason but it is a reason, I just like okay, love, don't make me say it again them a lot ok >ㅅ<

ask cont:

In addition to econ and finance, there's other things that I like doing too. I speak multiple languages and I'm not sure how to use that to my advantage. Maybe something with international relations idek. I am also very good at playing instruments and ik for a fact that my parents would not want me to have a career based on music. Ugh I'm sorry for venting to you. I should talk to a college advisor but I'm here throwing this on you.

These sound like great options. I believe both economics and/or finance are offered as majors; look for schools that specialize in these fields. You could work for a private company (HYBE???) and manage budgets / financial advising / marketing. Or you could work for the public / government (and then you'll know where all the tax money or stocks are going??? maybe idk). Speaking multiple languages is always helpful, especially for overseas work, just remember to learn the vocabulary specific to that field.

Honestly, focus on get a degree in something you're interested in. You don't need to know your career right now, unless you're doing something very specific that requires specific testing, such as lawyer or doctor, or want to be in a particular Masters / PhD program. You can always change your major. I started as a psychology major, ended as a biology major / psych minor

(could have double majored but I didn't want to write a massive paper to get my psych major, "it's too much writing", now you are staring at the 70k words of yoonkook fucking in the a-dick-ted au, well, uh, subject matter is important)

so you could minor in music (if you do so desire). Secondary education is daunting because you don't want to feel like your classes are a waste of money. That's why it's very important to enjoy what you're learning, but knowing your exact profession or goal is not necessary. You're there to learn and, through learning, you'll find what you like to do. Very likely you'll have to do internships when you're closer to graduation and those will give you more insight on what you want to do as a job.

Also remember jobs aren't set in stone. Sometimes people change professions moderately or completely, some get even higher education in their 30's/40's, or others end up in unique and developing fields as our world gets bigger and bigger. Your job might not even exist until you finish college / university! As you get older, your interests might change or something else in your field might open up. It's all part of the journey.

For now, look at the various majors offered and go for what appeals to you. Make sure those classes that you'll potentially be taking are ones that pique your interest. As you learn, connect with your peers and professors to see what's out there. Go to career fairs, collect business cards, talk to people in the industry. You get a better idea of what's out there once you're exposed to those that work in it.

8 notes · View notes

byenycfm · 8 months

Text

Hawthorn Penrose|| 50 || #P2B || Jude Law || Deceased

Personality:

How does one articulate perfection into silly words? Silly words we fling about each and every day, turning them into the mundane where once they were born with impact? Charmingly poetic. Poetically handsome. Handsomely full of it. Hawthorn is a pathological liar with grand ideas and an even grander imagination. He’s verbose to the point of nonsense, finding his own words poignant when the majority won’t have a clue to what he means. He’s grown attached to his fame, loving the limelight and the admiration that came with it, never quite coming to terms that his brand name waned years ago.

Biography:

There are two sides to Hawthorn Penrose. There’s the truth, and then there’s the retelling of history penned by yours truly. Because truth cracks the lens the writer sees through, Hawthorn has removed that risk altogether and spun an ordinary tale into something that awes party guests, makes audiences applaud him, causes fans to swoon over every word. For the record, these facts are his secrets to keep; they were never meant for the public to ogle nor will they ever become, but for the sake of historical completion, they are the following:

Hawthorn was born as Jack Rush, and just as the name would entail, he suffered in the most mundane ways. His childhood was rich with mid-western charm, flat land for miles and miles, nondescript Ohio surrounding him for scenery. The Rush family was well-off, in spite of the locale, a magnate in the steel industry, but Jack’s interest was never captured by it. As soon as he could, he fled to New York to start writing full-time. It was only when he discovered the invention of embellishment did his success grow.

Now, the tale that’s been told a thousand times before through paper and voice is disarmingly different. Hawthorn Penrose has been inflicted with pain since before he was born! Rife with poverty and a broken home, a father who died from disease when he was just a boy and a mother who worked three jobs to support herself and her only child. They were robbed, almost died, his mother fell in love with the wrong man to start a new life, only for it to fall apart all over again, and so on and so on. You’ll have to read The Battered Hart for all the remaining details, but the short-end of it is that Mr. Penrose’s life has been an inspiring tale of redemption given his good fortune. Nothing will get in the way of that, not even those pesky facts!

In another volume of his literary genius, bound as a collection of connecting poems, Hawthorn drew again from sorrow, this time from his own romantic saga, ending in the tragedy he banked on.

He had planned to be wed, but a week before the wedding, his fiancee was lying nearly lifeless on her bed. Every day became one more closer to crossing over into that great unknown, the light transcending from within her body to a beacon of immortality among a different plane. He watched with a mixture of grief and longing on each of those torturous days, recounting their fond moments to win her spirit back. On her final day, where he knew time was setting like a rose wilting before your eyes, he married her in a ceremony only witnessed by wife and husband. Her final words were "I do," the last parting gift she could have given to him. Not once are their names spoken so the reader may fully insert themselves for a more cathartic experience, but that irritable truth is that there’s no name given because the lover who inspired the work once threatened to expose him if she wasn’t paid her dues. Last he heard, she was living comfortably somewhere in Miami. How heartbreaking indeed!

With profound success, the scales are always meant to tip slowly in the other direction. Hawthorn's last hit was in 2015. He still writes (writes every day!) but the public hasn't shown their appreciation like they have in the past. Before the outbreak, he was just about to publish his masterpiece. Once all this business is over, he'll be back on the best seller's list and perhaps even treat himself to another Pulitzer!

Pre Outbreak Occupation: New York Times Best Selling Author and Pulitzer Prize Winning Author

Previous Zombie Experience: Zombies? Him? Well, now that you mention it, he did have a rather close encounter! He’s fortunate to still be with us! Trust him. Martial Status: Single Children: N/A Residence: Penthouse 2B Years residing at The Wexley: 20 Years Connections:

The Wexley's - Friends/Neighbors

Sada Vang - Toxic lover

Ember Wexley - Apocalypse fling

#Penrose #Closed #Chara #floor11 #Deceased

1 note · View note

fictionstuff · 2 years

Text

Bokutachi no Remake ぼくたちのリメイク

Plot: Life is not going well for 28-year-old Kyouya Hashiba. Having left his office job to pursue a career in the video game industry, his internship at a popular game studio abruptly ends, leaving him unemployed and forcing him to move back in with his parents. Additionally, his jealousy toward the success of the "Platinum Generation"—a group of similarly-aged creators—has caused him to regret his decision to attend a traditional university instead of an arts college. Even though he believes there are no second chances in life, Kyouya is suddenly given one when he wakes up one day and finds himself 10 years in the past.

Instead of choosing business school like he originally had, Kyouya decides to pursue his passions and attends the Oonaka University of Art. There, he meets classmate Eiko Kawasegawa, the woman who had hired him as an intern in the present, alongside his new housemates and future Platinum Generation members: underachieving artist Aki Shino, aspiring singer and actress Nanako Kogure, and naturally-gifted writer Tsurayuki Rokuonji.

With each project they complete together, Kyouya and his friends venture closer to discovering their true potential as creators and remaking their lives into the ideal versions they desire. [Written by MAL Rewrite]

Episodes: 12

Main Characters:

Hashiba Kyouya

Shino Aki

Kogure Nanako

Rokuonji Tsurayuki

Kawasegawa Eiko

Points: 6,5/10 [6,5625]

Once again someone goes back into the past to do something he wanted to do, but couldn’t or just didn’t do because it didn’t seem to be a logical decision at that time. Either way, for some reason or another (thanks for that, story writer), Kyouya is suddenly thrown into the past. Yes, he wakes up and whoops, his desired art university acceptance letter has arrived. This time around he takes the chance to reach what he truly desires: to create art.

The premise reminded me of ReLife, which I enjoyed quite a bit. ReLife was more about human bonds, growing as a person and less about sudden love and weird time jumps that make absolutely no sense. Yes, I didn’t really enjoy Bokutachi no Remake much, it honestly started to make less sense with each episode being aired. It’s not even half as profound and deep as ReLife, it really just conveys one message: live your dreams, try whatever you want to try, even if it may seem illogical. You only have one life, live it to the fullest.

And here Kyouya desired to be an artist rather than a simple office worker. Like Kyouya, the characters are the dore, the entire drive of the story and honestly, there is not much to say. The main character honestly doesn’t receive much development since he’s constantly busy with holding all 4 of his friends together who are a bunch of very different individuals. The development is also cut insanely short, because suddenly the anime adapts a perspective of a different future where all 4 are mostly separated and we have not even a single clue what happened in the meantime. While the idea is interesting, I can’t fathom why the anime took this approach.

Neither did the love triangle impact me at all. Kyouya was always a big fan of Aki, in his future where she was an artist, and suddenly, kaboomski, she was in love with him, too. Who needs development and logic again? They may have worked well together and he was truly nice and motivative, but for them to be suddenly married was perhaps a step too much into the future…

Nanako on the other hand was left forgotten in the second part. Her story was perhaps the most interesting one, as she as a mediocre singer wanted to hit big, wanted to do her best. She was truly passionate and all we see of her is a short clip. But we don’t really get to see or hear her, in retrospect she only ended up as a tool for Kyouya to remember his past and to stand his ground. She was perhaps just an inspiration.

Same goes for Tsurayuki. When it started to get interesting, when real conflicts finally arrived, the time jump happened and everything was nowhere near resolved. Nonetheless the realism of the working world was well captured, perhaps even the highlight as we could watch a gaming company develop a game and a bunch of kids working in teams which always sparks a lot of chaos.

The anime suffers from not being continued right now, perhaps also from having no explanation for time jumps. My opinion might be swayed, if a second season comes around to show what happened before the time jump, to actually give us an insight on why all of this even happened in the first place.

If you like Waifus and Titties, you can give this anime a try, too. The fanservice is uncalled for and absolutely useless. This doesn’t make up for plot holes. Neither does the beach episode. It honestly made me question why time has to be wasted on nothing in particular. This could have been used for proper character development.

It’s overall a decent watch, but I wouldn’t exactly recommend it, even if you’re into slice-of-life.

Artwork/Design/Animation - 7

Story/Characters - 6,5

Enjoyment - 6,5

#anime review #review

0 notes

kae-karo · 2 years

Note

For the writer asks: 19 and 39, only if you feel comfortable!

hi dear!! slkdfjklsdjf yes don't worry i do, tyty!! <3

send me writing asks from this list!

19. Tell me a story about your writing journey. When did you start? Why did you start? Were there bumps along the way? Where are you now and where are you going?

ngl i think i started (conceptually) where a lot of people start in terms of writing fanfic, where i was searching for a Concept that i couldn't find but wanted to read about, then had the realization that like...these are just people!! i could do this, i'm a person!!! also wow this got really long i'm so sorry i'm gonna put a 'keep reading' in here cause this is deep kae lore lmao

but i'll back up a tiny bit as well lmao and give u some kae lore - when i was younger, my sister was the 'creative writing' person in the family, i was the math nerd who definitely didn't have the creative chops to write (and hey, my sis was better at it than me, right? so why even try lmao) and to be totally fair, i was really not very skilled at the essay-type writing i was expected to do for english classes/college essays/etc, which i assumed implied that i'd be pretty bad at creative writing as well

fast forward a couple years, i have an Idea™ for a story (like an original story). but obviously, i can't write! so i hit up my sister during a family trip over the holidays and i'm like LOOK bestie i can't write but i CAN get a plot going here, can you write it for me? and she got all excited and we worked together to hash out a plot and stuff, it was good bonding time lmao. ultimately, it never ended up getting written bc she was still in high school and drowning with academics and i was in college and then trying to find a job, etc etc

but like i think that did it for me, that was the thing that really got my head spinning around the idea of engaging with creative writing as like...a thing i might actually be good at. not doing the writing ofc, because i was Bad At Writing™ per my previous experiences, but i wanted to get into the publishing industry cause i figured i could edit manuscripts or something and be Close to the creative writing process (don't @ me i really didn't understand much abt the industry lmao)

so, okay, cool, how to do that? well i was getting burned out on my job at the time and found one at a publishing company, but it was technically under a non-publishing-related sub-company. but hey, that's closer to a publishing company and might open some doors for me, right? so i went for it, and ultimately, that was a good thing, cause it was boring as shit

like the sheer amount of lack of work for this job was extremely mind-numbing, to the point that i spent a good 75% of my time watching youtube vids cause i was just looking for ANY mental stimulation lmao. i'd seen vines (i was late to the vine craze okay) of thomas sanders before, and i saw that he was on youtube, so i crashed through a bunch of his vids. i was also on tumblr but very much lurking, not very participatory, and i stumbled upon a post from a friend i'd followed in college who was a fan of dan and phil (hi if ur reading this hope ur good !! i still think abt that time i wore a lazy cat costume with cat whiskers drawn on my face and u asked me if i was a fan of them and i just had no clue what u were talking abt but thanks for setting off the next several years of me getting into dnp and, subsequently, writing)

ANYWAY so fast forward 4-5mo or so, i finally learn what fanfiction is (yes, this took me til 2017 okay) and i read a bunch to fill all this massively boring spare time i have sitting around at work. and then i have an idea, but the fanfic doesn't exist, and i'm like....lightbulb, i know i can't really write, but what if maybe i give it a try and see? i've read some stuff that isn't like...jaw-dropping top-tier incredible (and i mean this in the most genuine way, i am SO grateful for amateur quality writing bc i think that really shattered my internal narrative about 'only Good Writers should write and post', whatever the hell a 'good writer' is)

and thus, i wrote my first fic. which i then posted on wattpad (lmao) before learning that ao3 was a thing, and was purportedly Much Better, so i crossposted it there. after the first...2 or 3 fics? i posted exclusively there. they were all one-shots, which was about the extent of my confidence and ability at the time like...just getting started writing. and like i just went back and reread the first like...plot-based oneshot (the prior was more poetic and less of a Story) and...i mean i have some commentary for past-me about switching tenses mid-sentence and stuff but i think i did pretty alright for having no creative writing experience lmao

bumps along the way...i'll be honest, the dnp fandom at the time i was writing for it was extremely wholesome and supportive, like i couldn't have asked for a better place to grow my confidence in writing. it was much smaller than the other fandoms i've since written for, and that made it very intimate and easy to gain an audience by word of mouth. during that time, i really don't think i hit any bumps in the road? creatively-speaking, i was kind of brimming with years upon years of unused creative energy that needed a place to go and finally had some sort of outlet, plus the extensive time to devote to cultivating it as a passion

it was really only as dnp slowed down on their own content creation that my interest ended up waning, and as i've said many times, i tend to follow the trail of inspiration - no inspiration = no writing, for the most part. there was a stretch of time between my last dnp fic and my first bnha fic where i really was just sort of floating, which sucked at the time but i now understand how that manifested and was able to recognize it when it rolled around again with my transition from writing for bnha to writing for genshin

i've definitely had patches of time since then where it feels like i'm creatively exhausted, but i've learned how to recognize that as my brain's need to pause and recharge (i wrote a poem abt it actually - x) and along with that comes a bit of self-reflection and acknowledgment that i am not an infinite creative well, and that spawning tons of ideas in my earlier writing career was more a product of having years of pent-up creative energy that needed a release lmao

i've also definitely had ideas that fought me a little bit, which is never fun lmao especially if i'm super committed to them, or excited abt them. i think that's just a product of like. being a creative person and Having Ideas lmao they're not all gonna work out perfectly every time sldkjfklsjfdl

i think that's a pretty decent assessment of where i am now as well? i take ideas as they come as much as i'm able, try to rest when i know i need it (even when i don't wANNA), and follow my inspiration wherever it leads!

as for where i'm going? sldkflksf your guess is as good as mine lmaooo at the moment, i know i have a LOT of genshin ideas that i'm either in the middle of or want to work on, so i suspect fandom-wise i'll be here for a while lmao. from a like...writing writing standpoint, i'm just gonna keep following my inspiration and see where it takes me lmao. i try not to treat writing as like a "how do i get Better" sort of thing? it's my passion, it's my hobby, i'm enjoying it and i enjoy the way i do it, and so far i've been able to create the things i want to create. if i ever run into a roadblock where i can't do what i want to do, then perhaps i'll seek out ways to grow in the direction that'll help me accomplish what i want to accomplish, but until then, i'll keep doing what i'm doing lmao

39. What keeps you writing when you feel like giving up?

well tbh i feel like 'giving up' can be interpreted in a few different ways - i'll be totally honest, i've never wanted to give up writing. like. this is it for me lmao at least for the foreseeable future. it brings me a lot of joy, even on the rough days

as i've mentioned, i've had stories that fight with me, and sometimes it's a lack of inspiration (in which case, i set it aside and move on and hope there's a day where i'll be inspired to work on it again), sometimes it's an aspect of the story that i feel is important but can't make it work (in which case i usually spend an hour talking about it aloud until i've worked my way out of the issue)

and sometimes i just get burnt out, which happens every now and then, and i detest it bc i love writing but sometimes i just have to step back and stop for a little bit. but by no means does it equate to giving up entirely - usually it's just a feeling like everything is Bad and Wrong and i can't get myself to do words or when i do they're all Wrong

when that's specific to the story (which i have had happen before too lmao) usually that's a sign that i just need to leave it alone for a little and return to it with a fresh mind - it's never as bad as i think it is while i'm in the middle of it lmao

but none of that means that i don't still feel motivated, or have things that motivate me. a lot of it is that this is my only creative hobby that i do consistently, but i have a LOT of creative energy. so it all tends to funnel into this, and it's emotionally satisfying to manifest something that lives in my head. also i won't lie i write for myself, ultimately, but sharing with other people and getting positive feedback is really encouraging, like knowing that other ppl had fun with the same little brainrot that i did is a really fun feeling

send me writing asks from this list!

#ask #ask game #anon #kae lore #writing ask

1 note · View note

leefi · 3 years

Text

since we're on the topic...what kind of occupation would kdj have post scenarios

#i have strong headcanons for yjh and ysa (ysa I don't even think is an hc but i need to reread epilogue). hsy has a canon job #jhw and lhs i have no idea what they'd do #lsh is the head doctor at the hospital and has no time to be involved in administration...maybe lhs could help with that #it's a different thing from the military where he gets more freedom but still keeps a bit of the bureaucracy #jhw and kdj still no clue #they're just Uriel's groupies they follow her idol group around #IMAGINE THEM AS PROMOTERS LMFJDJSJSHDHSND #borv #please give me kdj and jhw job hcs..i need them for science #am i missing anybody. not the kids bc they're at school #gong pildu has experience w/ administration from taking care of the industrial complex with lsh so he can keep doing that #lsy and her band of ex prisoners act as security for like. the entire korean peninsula iirc lol #hmy is 70+ at this point and retired (due to 20 yr timeskip)#i think... that's everyone. kdj n jhw unemployed uriel superfans 😔💔#kdj as an editor for hsy maybe ..? as an editor in general??? maybe they start their own publishing company one day #jhw girl im sorry...ur still unemployed <\3 #kimcom #maybe jhw goes back to school too...maybe she studies law....#i think i got that hc from a tweet i read.. that's not from my brain. but i like the idea of it

12 notes · View notes

secretswiftymarvelfan · 3 years

Text

Swap (Chris Evans x Reader)

Word Count: 1.1k

Warnings: Sexism, Fluff

You and Chris both had an equal hatred for press tours. He hated them because of his anxiety. You hated them because of the blatantly sexist questions only you got asked. Even female interviewers asked the same questions.

It had been a long day of press and you were storming around the hotel room you shared with Chris. You were in a sour mood and everything else seemed to just piss you off.

Like when your moisturiser squirted out of the bottle unexpectedly leaving you with far more than you needed.

Or when you wanted a bit of ketchup for your fries and that had squirted out too much and was watery despite you shaking the bottle.

Your cheeseburger didn’t even have cheese. Seriously who forgets the cheese in the CHEESEBURGER!

You grumbled as you walked out of the ensuite. As soon as you stepped into the room Chris pounced wrapping his arms around you tightly.

“You’re so tense” he mumbles pressing kisses to your shoulders.

“Of course I’m tense Chris, I’m pissed off” you state trying to get out of his arms and ultimately failing when he hugs you tighter.

“I guessed as much, wanna talk about it?” He asks making you sigh and temporarily give up the fight.

“Maybe I dunno, there’s nothing you could do about it” you tell him turning around in his arms to face him.

“Well there must be something I can do? Try me” he presses.

“Well can you completely turn this industry on its head and stop patriarchy driven questions I always get asks?” You ask him putting your hand on your hips.

Chris pauses and bites his lip in contemplation for a moment.

“I mean I could try but it might take me a while” Chris says with a small smirk.

You couldn’t help but chuckle slightly dropping your hands in defeat and resting your head against his chest.

“But in the mean time why don’t we swap?” Chris suggests making you look up at him con-fused.

“What do you mean?” You ask him tilting your head in question.

Chris smiles down at you clearly loving the confused expression on your face.

“We swap questions I take all the ones that are aimed at you that they wouldn’t ask a man and vice versa” Chris explains.

“Oooh that would be interesting, would make the interviews ten times more fun” you chuckle absolutely loving the idea.

You and Chris spend the rest of the evening swapping questions between each other so you were completely ready to screw with the press.

For once you were actually excited to sit down for a press junket. When the first interviewer walked in and greeted you, you chuckled to yourself. You knew him from previous press tours, he was notorious for sexist questions.

How he still had a job you had no clue.

The interview starts off pretty normal, the both of you being asked general questions about the movie.

“It seems super physical, what was your training regime to get yourself ready?” The inter-viewer asks looking directly at Chris.

“Oh well it was a complete mix of stuff really” you say catching the interviewer off guard.

“Bit of Yoga and gymnastics for flexibility and general strengthening, i mean look at brie Larson her workouts explain it perfectly” you continue asking as if he had asked you instead.

The interviewer looks at the two of you slightly shocked, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. He waits for Chris to say something but when he doesn’t he quickly move on.

There were a couple more ‘normal’ questions before he turned to you.

“You’ve got a brand new suit in this movie that looks incredible” he starts. you could instantly see where this was going and for once you actually looked forward to it.

“Yeah it is a nice suit” you answer trying to hide your smirk.

“Quite tight isn’t it? Are you able to wear anything underneath it? Like what underwear can you wear?” He continues.

You choke back a snort. He hadn’t held back at all. No attempt to even slyly ask the question.

“Um well depends on what the scene calls for really” Chris answer the both of you having to hold back a smirk.

“So for me whenever its a scene where i’m wearing the cap suit and its action packed, lots of running then you can get away with tight boxers because chaffing” Chris continues and you had to hold your fingers in front of your mouth to try and keep the laughter back.

“But if I’m just stood there in the suit and its a non action scene then I do have to go full commando” Chris finishes and you couldn’t help but laugh slightly.

Chris looks over at you with a mischievous and victorious smile when you see the interview-er grow incredibly uncomfortable.

He stutters over his words looking at the two of you completely stunned and lost for words. Before he had the chance to ask any more questions his time was up and he was escorted out.

For the rest of the interviews that day you and Chris carried on doing the same thing for every interviewer.

You even carried it on during the big press conference. Whenever a female member of the cast got asked a sexist questions he would jump in and answer. Much to the enjoyment of the rest of the cast, the rest of the men also jumping in with their own answers.

The press were completely lost and you were enjoying everything second of it. Scarlett who was sat next to you at the table leaned over to whisper in your ear.

“Have you and Chris been doing this all day?” She whispers.

You nod your head holding back a smile.

“Yeah whenever I got a sexist questions he would answer them and I answered all the ones he would typically get, its been brilliant” you chuckle keeping your voice low so the mics wouldn’t pick it up.

“You are a mastermind” Scarlett chuckles holding her hand up for a high five which you gladly gave.

You looked over at Chris and see him smiling warmly over at you. Clearly glad that this plan of his worked and you were actually enjoying the junkets. You’d have to give him a massive thank you kiss later, the only reason you didn’t give him one now was because of all the cameras.

You settle for taking his hand under the table and squeezing it as a sign of thanks.

“Yeah i mean I absolutely love to have a romantic subplot to my character, you know sometimes i feel like my character is given too much depth ya know. Like make me a love interest please!” Mackie says making everyone on the table burst out in hysterics.

You loved this cast. Not as much as you loved Chris though.

#Chris Evans #chris evans x reader #chris x reader #marvel #fanfic

641 notes · View notes

bxtchforstyles · 3 years

Text

I’ll Get There.

Harry Styles X Y/N

Y/N has been struggling with her body image ever since she was a teenager, but now that she was becoming a big time model, it had only gotten worse.

Warnings: mentions of eating disorders, and symptoms similar to those of a panic attack.

Word count: 2.4k+

gif not mine.

Y/N never realized that not everyone gets dizzy when they stand up too fast.

She just figured that it was something that happened to everybody, especially since it had been happening to her for years.

That’s why she was always confused when people asked what was wrong when she had to stop for a moment to gain her balance after standing up from where she was sitting.

It was later though, when Y/N realized exactly why everyone thought she was sick when she stood.

She had also been happily dating her boyfriend Harry for almost two years now, that’s when it got the worst.

Growing up in the spotlight, Y/N never realized how much it took a toll on your self image. She never liked your body, or your face, or your hair, or anything really.

And it didn’t help that her mother was a famous model for all of her teenage years, which was only ruined when she had Y/N accidentally at the age of twenty two.

She was an amazing mother nonetheless, but Y/N had always carried this sense of guilt among her unborn self. She knew that her mother was easily one of the most sought after models of her generation, and almost everyone knew who she was.

So when the tabloids got ahold of the fact she was pregnant, her career was basically over.

Babies ruin your body.

At around the age of sixteen, Y/N began to get into modeling, just like her mom, and just like the media had expected.

‘She’s a natural’

‘She takes after her mother’

‘Let’s hope she doesn’t make the same mistake her mother made’

She had heard it all.

But with the modeling industry, comes diets, and workouts, and healthy, green, disgusting smoothies. All of which were very bad for your mental state, by the way.

The modeling world was a whole different work than the one Y/N had been surrounded by for the first fifteen years of her life, and now she was in this new world, she realized how much prettier everyone else around her was.

It wasn’t bad at first, it was just a few skipped snacks, maybe a skipped meal here and there.

It wasn’t anything serious, it was just a calorie deficit, which is what she thought she needed anyway.

Everyone told her she looked wonderful, and that only encouraged her more.

It slowly progressed until she was around eighteen, she was put in an overnight hospital stay once, but it was simply brushed aside, since she claimed her malnourishment was just due to stress.

She promised her mother that she would start consciously eating more again.

She promised.

But later that year was when she began dating Harry. It was wonderful, and she didn’t have any doubts that she was beautiful, and he made sure of that.

But now two years later, the two of them were still going strong.

Y/N had gotten the job of any model's dream, getting to premiere at the Victoria Secret Fashion Show.

And it just so happened that her very own boyfriend was chosen to be the performer.

Y/N was excited at first, finally getting the chance to be able to get on stage with her boyfriend. But that didn’t last very long when she went on twitter a little after the announcement had been posted.

It was safe to say that most of Harry’s fans were not very pleased that she was going to be walking in the show.

But there was one tweet that made her particularly sick to her stomach.

It said; “It would be ten times cuter if it was Kendall walking that runway, Y/N could never compare to her”

It had now been almost a week since she had read that tweet, and it had made her want to cry. She had definitely had her moments where she fell completely apart while in the shower, but she could never do that in front of Harry.

She wouldn’t even know where to start.

Y/N had always been the type of person to hide her emotions, and most of the time she did it very well, that was until the dam finally broke.

That's when she decided to take a hot shower, thinking maybe it would relax her, and maybe even burn a few calories.

Harry didn't even realize how long his girlfriend had been in the shower, until he went to run the dishwasher and it wouldn't start.

That meant that there was zero hot water.

“Y/N?” He knocked on the bathroom door, hoping for a response, “are you okay?”

He didn't get a response at all, not vocally at least.

He heard the water turn off from inside the bathroom, figuring that his voice must have broken her out of a gaze of some sort.

He knocked again, “baby? Are you okay? You've been in there a while.”

His voice trailed off when he heard the door open slightly, promoting for him to open the ajar door fully.

Harry was shocked at what he saw, closing the door behind them to give them some privacy, even though no one else lived in their apartment.

The sight of the small girl was definitely a confusing one to Harry, seeing that he had no clue what Y/n had been struggling with for the past years, but especially the past few years.

She was curled in a ball, her arms wrapped around her legs, pulling them to her chest with her back against the wall. Sitting next to her was the digital scale that Harry frequently used to check his weight.

He approached her slowly, not wanting to startle her or make her think he was mad at her in any way.

When he got close enough to read the number that was being shown on the scale, he was appalled. He had to hold back his gasp as he crouched in front of her in order for his eyes to be level with hers.

“Hey,” He placed a hand on top of her knee, trying to grab her attention. “What’s the matter, love?” He was genuinely concerned for her now that he saw the fat tears rolling down her cheeks.

The only thing that his girlfriend did though, was look back down at her hands once they dropped to her lap, the tears continued flowing.

“You know you can tell me anything baby, I’m right here.”

“I-” The sniffles and hiccups that still leave her small body were absolutely heartbreaking to Harry. “I just, I hate m-myself.”

Harry didn’t even want to imagine what his facial expression looked like in that moment, because hearing his girl say that, absolutely broke him.

“Y/N,” He finally spoke shakily, rubbing his hands up and down her thighs as her legs straightened. “W-why?”

He never would have imagined that she was feeling like this, and that made him feel awful knowing that he maybe could have helped her sooner. She had been hurting for god knows how long and he had no idea.

“I know that you say that you think I’m pretty, and beautiful-” She cuts herself off when another sob racks her body. “But sometimes I think you just tell me that so you don’t hurt my feelings.”

It had taken her a while to regain her breathing at times, and Harry could see why. Her body was clearly fragile, and was working way harder than it should have to just to keep her lungs pumping.

He walked into their bedroom that was connected to the bathroom, quickly grabbing the Gatorade that he had set on the dresser a few moments ago when he had begun knocking on the door.

“Here, take a drink baby.” He tried to put the plastic bottle in her hand, but she wouldn’t even hold it before she was immediately pushing it away. “Y/N, you need to drink something.”

Her tears only got stronger, her breath becoming more erratic as she shook her head no.

Her skin was pale, and the bones of shoulder protruded from her body. She looked sick, but Harry didn’t want to admit that, even to himself.

“I can’t, Harry, I can’t.” The breath that she exhaled was ragged, prompting him to put the hand that wasn’t holding the Gatorade bottle on her back, running it up and down.

“Yes, you can baby. I promise, I will be here the entire time.” He nodded encouragingly, but she didn’t say a word. “Can you please just take one sip? If not you for, for me.”

The daunting look that she gave the plastic bottle was enough to make her start hyperventilating. “You don’t get it.”

“I know I don't,” He sighed loudly, “but I want to.”

“Why me?” Her voice was barely audible, making so Harry didn’t even hear what she said at first.

“What?” His large, ring-clad hand was still rubbing up and down her back in an attempt to make her breathe even out.

Y/N took a deep breath, like she was trying to figure out what to say. “Why do you want me? You could have literally any girl you want, yet you’re still here, and I just don’t get it.”

It probably seemed horrible when Harry stayed silent for a moment, staring blankly at her. But in all reality, he was just trying to come up with an answer that would be suitable enough to make her understand exactly how he felt about her.

“I just- I can’t help you understand how I’m feeling, and what I’m going through until I understand. I-i really need to understand.”

“You know that I love you so much, darling.”

That’s when the dam finally broke, the tears starting again, and Y/N’s hands angrily slamming down on the bathroom floor. “But why? Help me understand!” She bellowed, making Harry’s eyes widen.

“Understand what, love?” His voice was calm, and Y/N wasn;t surprised by it. He had never raised his voice at her in the slightest, and she didn’t think he was going to start.

“Why you chose me! You have a million girls literally at your feet that are so much prettier, and skinnier, and nicer-” Harry cut her off.

He knew exactly what she was doing. Her anxiousness always caused rambling like this where she would spill all of her feelings, and it made his heart ache that she could ever feel like this.

“I don’t want anyone else.” He said simply, grabbing her hands. “I love you because you light up any room that you walk into. I love the way you play with your hair when you’re being impatient. I love the way you immediately run to me when I walk in the front door. I love when you attempt to cook, even though you are horrendous at it, but I know you try for me.”

“I love every single thing about you, to the point that I don’t think I could ever look at anyone else with even remotely the same amount of admiration as I have when I look at you. You make me who I am, and no one else could ever fill my heart to the extent that you do.”

Y/N looked up at him, watching the single tear roll down his cheek. The only thing she could think to do was lean her head forward from where she was sitting in front of him, laying her head on his chest.

“Everybody’s mad that I’m going to be walking at the show while you’re performing. They all wanted you to be performing with Kendall.”

Harry’s hands went under her slim arms, picking her up with ease before placing her in his lap. “I don’t want to perform for anyone unless you’re walking that runway.”

“I love you.”

He kissed the top of her head, “I love you too.”

Y/N laid in his lap for a few more minutes before he stood up, wrapping his arms easily around the back of her thighs, pulling her legs to wrap around his torso.

“Why don't we eat something, make you feel better?” At this time, Harry had completely forgotten about the image of his girlfriend crying in front of the scale.

She shook her head as he laid her down against the comforter in their bed, “m’ not hungry.”

He knew better than that, “you haven't eaten all day, what's going on?”

“I’m preparing for the show, Harry.”

That’s when he definitely knew something was off, she never called him by his first name. He also saw the look on her face when he mentioned food, she looked sad, not only sad, but disgusted.

“Did you see the same number on the scale that I did?” He didn’t want to bring it up at first, but now he felt it was necessary to lightly mention it. “If anything, you’re underweight, Y/N.”

“The number on the scale means absolutely nothing when I still look like- like this.” She motioned down towards her body, making Harry frown.

He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, his thumb and pointer finger connecting immediately, basically overlapping them. “That is not healthy, baby. You need to eat in order to fuel your body, or else you will be so weak that you won’t even be able to make it down the runway.”

“I can’t be fat for this show Harry, I just can’t. There is too much speculation about me already, and I can’t be known as the fat Victoria Secret model, on top of being the girl who’s dating Harry Styles.”

“But you’re not fat, and I know that it’s hard for you to see since you’ve had to struggle with these types of things in the modeling industry for so long, but you need to eat.” She was already shaking her head, making Harry’s eyes well with tears.

“Please, Y/N, for me. I’m not asking for you to sit down and have a full course meal, maybe just something small, healthy even. How about a little side salad, would that be okay? You don’t even have to eat the whole thing.”

Finally, he got his girlfriend to agree, slowly nodding her head.

He kneeled onto the bed, wrapping his arms firmly around her. “You’re so beautiful, baby. I love you so much, thank you.”

“I love you too. A lot.”

Harry grabbed Y/N’s cheeks in his hands, feeling her strong cheekbones against his palms. “I just want you to be healthy, you know that, right?”

She smiled lightly, leaning her head into his hand, “I’ll get there.”

“I know you will.”

i hope you like my very first imagine that i have posted on this account! should i do a part two of the fashion show? lmk!!

#harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x ofc #harry styles blog #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles imagine #solo harry #harry styles #harry styles one shot #one direction #1d fan fiction #1d au #1d imagines #fanfic #tw ed things

542 notes · View notes

olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

Text

Canary, Part 6

First

Tim had been watching her out of the corner of his eyes for a long time. It wasn’t that he was trying to be creepy or anything, he just… didn’t know why she was there. It didn’t make sense. She was relatively low on funds according to what he and Oracle had dredged up, and even Tim in all his billionaire-ness recognized that this place was more expensive than average…

So, why had she come? It wasn’t even close to the motel she was staying at.

The vaguely paranoid -- cautious, he was cautious -- part of him worried that she had somehow known he was there, but there was no way she should have been able to know that. Hell, he hadn’t known he was going to this particular cafe until he’d gotten to work and realized that there were now cameras in the breakroom and his office to make sure he didn’t drink too much.

But, really, it seemed like she was just using the free wifi that the cafe provided to write up a resume.

He relaxed and sunk back in his chair with his laptop while he did his work.

… he didn’t get to work for long.

He picked up on the slight gravel of someone putting on a voice with ease. It was high and sweet, a voice he commonly heard from customer service workers. He chanced a look back at the barista and frowned when he saw her on her phone. Not her, then.

He looked around the tiny coffee shop and cringed a little when he realized what was going on. Shady guy approaches a woman who’s drinking coffee alone? Yeah, that’s never a good thing.

He pushed his laptop into his bag quickly, slung it over his shoulders, put the cap back on his coffee cup so the guy wouldn’t be able to tell that Tim had been there for a while, and rushed over.

He rested his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Hey, bud, she said no.”

Tim watched both of them tense and their gazes were pulled to him in an instant.

Marinette glanced him up and down once. He watched her eyes lock onto his coffee cup for a second and he carefully turned his hand a little so she could see the name.

She smiled. “You’re late, Timmy. Don’t tell me you got caught up in another meeting?”

He shrugged innocently. “You know how it is.” Then, he split into a grin. “Maybe I should be the one that’s upset, though. Can’t believe you didn’t save me a spot.”

“I tried!” She whined. “He insisted!”

The man chuckled awkwardly. “I see. I’m sorry, I thought you were alone.”

She rolled her eyes. “I told you I wasn’t. Can you move, though?”

“Actually,” Tim said, because he didn’t want to sit in the window where Duke might happen to see him while on patrols. “There’s a free table back this way.”

Marinette tipped her head to the side a little before nodding. “Sure.”

She closed her laptop with a snap, gathered her things into her bag, and followed him back to his table.

That should have been the end of it. Unfortunately, the guy was still watching them. It looked like they weren’t going to be able to do work for a while if they wanted to keep up the pretense that they were friends.

She seemed to know it, too, because she sighed and rested her head on her hand with a small frown. “Guess we have to talk.”

He huffed. “Don’t have to sound so upset about it.”

“Alright. Fine.”

“Not sounding much more excited.”

She rolled her eyes and then brought a bright smile to her face. “Sure, Timmy, sounds great! Can’t wait to have a super fun conversation with you!”

“... nevermind. That’s weird. Why did that almost convince me? I knew it was fake.”

She let herself lean back in her chair, her face falling back to a slightly smug grin. “I’m Parisian,” she said simply.

Yeah. That made sense. Every Parisian Tim had had the (dis?)pleasure of meeting had had an almost unnerving amount of control over the way they presented their emotions.

He snickered. “Why the hell would you move here, then?”

She rolled her eyes. “Our psychopath was so boring. Like, dude, we get it, your wife died or whatever, that sounds like a you problem. Now, a guy deciding to become a jewel thief purely for the gimmick? Way more interesting.”

“Moral grayness is so twenty years ago,” Tim joked.

“Exactly! Give me dumbasses who are evil purely to be evil and good to be good!”

He grinned. “I can see why you like Harry Potter.”

She blinked.

He motioned to her cup. Scrawled across it in the barista’s messy handwriting was ‘He Who Must Not Be Named’.

She relaxed a little, grinning. “I just finished the books so I’m a bit obsessed. Also, every time I tell them that my name is Marinette they misspell it.”

“Don’t feel too bad, baristas are just like that. Heck, they’ve misspelled my name before.”

“... your name is Tim.”

“They spelled it with a y.”

“... why?”

“Yes. Exactly. A y.”

She giggled a little. “No, I mean why would they do that?”

“Oh. No clue. I hope they were just messing with me.”

The barista was wiping down the tables. It was nearing closing time and Marinette was feeling more and more sorry for the poor workers the longer they stayed. She knew that, when she had used to work at the bakery, she had always especially hated customers that were there around closing time.

Only two tables remained occupied.

She sighed when she glanced over and saw the guy was still there.

Oh well.

She looked over at Tim. “Care to walk me a few blocks in a random direction to see if we can get rid of him?”

“Certainly,” he said.

“‘Certainly’? I may not be super great with American customs yet but even I know that’s weird,” she teased.

He huffed a little. “Listen.”

“I’m listening.”

His nose scrunched. “No, wait, you weren’t supposed to call me out on the fact that I didn’t have an excuse.”

“Oh. Okay, we can try again.”

“Alright.” He cleared his throat. “Listen,” he said again, this time in a tone that mocked the one he’d said it in the first time.

Convenient. She was intent on mocking him, too: “I’m listening.”

“You’re the worst,” he complained.

She laughed. “I am so not. Joker exists.”

“You’re worse than him,” he said in his most serious voice.

She laughed harder. “No one is worse than him.”

He grinned. “I thought you liked people that were evil purely for being evil.”

“But he’s not,” she argued. “The man just decided one day that he liked the weird guy who dressed like a bat and figured that the best way to get that guy’s attention was to murder people.”

“Gotta admit, it works,” said Tim.

She shrugged, grinning. “Yeah, it does. Makes me wonder what would happen if the Big Bad Bat didn’t come, though.”

He tipped his head to the side slightly and then shrugged. “I don’t know, actually. He usually stops it in time.”

“I think he’d freak out.”

“Absolutely.”

She grinned and stretched lazily, head tipping back.

“He’s still following us, isn’t he?” Asked Tim.

“Yep,” she said, popping the ‘p’.

He groaned a little. “Great. Looks like we’re heading to the library.”

She raised her eyebrows. “You go to libraries? You could probably buy every ebook in existence and have a few billion left over.”

“One of my sisters works there, I can ask her to get rid of the guy,” he explained. “But I like libraries. There’s something quaint about them.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, it’s nice to see how the common folk live sometimes.”

He returned her eye roll. “Not like that. I spend a lot of time staring at screens, I have a special appreciation for regular old books.”

“That’s nice. I wish I had time to sit down with a physical copy like that.”

“You see, I have this genius strategy for making time: not taking care of myself.”

“Go on, this is intriguing.”

“Well, eating and sleeping, right? Everyone thinks they’re totally necessary things otherwise you’d die or whatever. But, listen, that’s just a hoax made up by the government to perpetuate capitalism.”

She nodded eagerly. “Totally totally totally. What’s your solution?”

“Coffee communism.”

“Yes, you should use your rich boy money to lobby Congress.”

He grinned. “I totally should. But I can’t run it by my family.”

“No way! You never know who's capitalist anymore, they could be plants placed by the sleep industry to ensure that you don’t go through with it.”

He gasped. “No! You think? My own family?!”

She nodded grimly. “It’s always the ones closest to you that betray you.”

And then he broke character, snickering behind his hand. She beamed.

They reached the library and he smiled as he held the door open for her. He asked her to wait while he talked to his sister and she waved him off casually, telling him to take his time.

She pulled out her phone and pressed her lips together thinly as she made a note to head over later that night to give the man -- Henry -- his money. She’d give him a little tip because, for a moment there, she’d almost forgotten that they were just acting. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea to purposely trigger herself for the sake of believability but, hey, if she was going to try and dupe one of the smartest businessmen alive into talking to her, she needed to go all out.

Speaking of Tim, she updated the file of Tim’s favorite cafes plus the probabilities of him visiting each one. It was for his oldest brother, Richie Wayne. She didn’t know why Richie was the one to ask for it seeing as he spent most of his time in Bludhaven and therefore likely wouldn’t find much use in it, but no one ever really knew why Richie Wayne did anything. The man famously had almost as much cotton between his ears as his father.

But, Richie Wayne was also just as rich as his father, so… she’d give him his file later that night after checking her math with her favorite graphing calculator.

A redhead in a wheelchair rolled past Marinette and she absently held the door open for her, only to be surprised when she cursed out Henry.

She watched as Henry held his hands up and started backing away from the woman in the wheelchair, and then he ran down the nearest alley.

(… she’d give Henry a bigger tip. The man had just wanted a tiny side job to help pay for his wife and kids that wasn’t being a henchman, he didn’t deserve this.)

She opened the door for the woman on her way back inside and mumbled her thanks. The woman nodded once and continued on her way.

Marinette leaned back against the wall again and scrolled through Twitter as she waited for Tim to reappear. Apparently, Poison Ivy was already back in Arkham. Something about an intern at the botanical gardens watering plants wrong. Wild.

Marinette felt someone sidle up beside her and, after a quick glance confirmed that it was Tim, pocketed her phone.

He smiled at her, a tote bag over his shoulder.

“Did you go grocery shopping while I wasn’t looking, somehow?”

He hesitated before holding it out to her. “It’s the French dubs of the Harry Potter movies.”

She blinked as the bag was thrust into her hands and looked down at it. Yep, that was Harry Potter in French. She also, vaguely, noted the tiny slip of paper his phone number scrawled across it.

She slung the bag over her shoulder.

“I’m never going to return these. You’re going to rack up so much debt.”

~~~

NightwingsAss9384: does anyone know why nightwing and canary hate each other?

ScareCrane: She stabbed Batman once on accident and somehow got away with blaming it on him

Daylightwing: She refuses to let B adopt her.

RiddleMeThis: They think it’s funny when their stans fight.

SignalOfficial: They said ‘I’m the only flippy bitch allowed in New Jersey’ and have been fighting ever since

Yummmmmm: He has to or else Robin will get jealous because he’s the only stabby sibling allowed

Oracle: They’re fighting over who gets to change their name to ‘The Dodo’ first.

DeadHood: Nightwing is jealous that Canary was the first one of us to think to have a full-on bird mask.

TheBetterCanary: every time i go into the batfam tag to try and avoid them all i see is his fancams

SpoilerAlert: they’re both convinced that they’re the hottest bachelor/bachelorette in gotham

NightwingsAss9384: im beginning to think no ones going to tell me.

BlackBat: :)

~~~~~

Perma taglist: @nathleigh @peachmuses

Canary taglist: @jayjayspixiepop @unoriginalmess @miraculousfanfic127 @probably-a-hologram @iloontjeboontje

#if i did a kofi would anyone donate #probably not #canary #maribat #timmari #timari #timinette #shutterbug #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #tim drake #red robin

74 notes · View notes

slashingdisneypasta · 3 years

Text

Sylvester the Cat x Toon!Reader || Drabble

Plot: I'm just experimenting with the Looney Tune idea so possibly enjoy some cute Sylvester Jr wanting you to be his new other parent.

Warnings: Toon violence?

You're just tying up the ends of Wile E's bandages into a tight little knot, prompting a wince from the coyote and a little board sign saying 'Ouch!'. Immediately you wince, stepping back. "Ohh... sorry, Wile E... I'm not exactly certified... " Daffy made you do this job, seeing as you're worse at sports then any of them- and that's saying something.

His head falls forward slightly and his ears wilt as you step back.

"Okay! Who's nex- " Turning around - picking up some more bandages and band aids in one fist, and an industrial sized tube of Acme branded antiseptic cream tucked under your other arm, - you look about for your next patient.

- And droop as soon as you see what kind if work load is waiting for you. It looks like every toon you know is lined up for medical attention!

The bandages and band aids slip out of your hands and scatter across the floor. "Oh boy." Quickly taking a deep breath to refresh yourself, you perk right up in order to get to it. Okay! "Sly! You're first, what's wro- Uh, hah. Nevermind."

Looking at him... maybe you don't have to ask...

Tweety flies through the giant gaping hole in Sylvester's tummy and the cat gives great sigh, slumping forward. "Why are the only times he's in there are when he can get out!!"

"I know, I know, woe is you. Sit down." You have no time for sympathies right now, you can allocate Sly only 2 minutes- and that's because you like him. The other patients coming get only one. "Okay, Sly!... um... " Oh brother you're stuck. Why do you do with an ailment like this?? Sylvester patiently sits, waiting for you to finish as you set your paws on your hips with a huff... wondering where exactly to go from here. Hm. "Do you maybe... know where your insides... are? Like, presently?"

"Uhh, they were... disintegrated... "

You two share a concerned look. "Maybe... spackle?- "

Just as Sylvester is gulping down his fear at your crazy suggestion, a certain black and white kitten comes speeding out of the crowd at the two of you. "FATHER!" Sylvester Junior stops at his fathers side, eyes wide with worry. "Father! Is he okay, Y/N??"

As you start rifling through your medical kit for something actually useful, you waive a dismissive paw at the kitten. "Oh, don't worry SJ. Your dad has recovered from worse- you know that."

Oh- that gives you an idea! It may not be strictly medical... or orthodox in the least, but its worth a try! Come on- you guys are toons. Straightening up, you look to the court; Searching for the little yellow speck you know is flying around somewhere.

Sylvester Jr nods slowly, pouting. His eyes are big, and round, and adorably full of worry. "Do you think I can sit on his lap safely, Y/N?"

Oh he's just the cutest. You turn back to your patient and raise your brows at him. "Can he?"

Sly perks up at the chance to get some much needed affection - rather then shameful berating, - from his rugrat. "Of course he can- come on, son- oww... " Unfortunately Sylvester Junior throws caution to the wind, and launches his little body at his father- almost going all the way through and causing you to seriously wince, but luckily Sylvester has a good grip on him and sets him in his lap rather then inside the cavern that was his belly. "Aghhh... thanks, son... I feel a lot better now... oof!- "

Sylvester Junior has thrown his arms around his father, and your heart leaps at the adorable scene...

Except- you wouldn't have, if you had heard what was really going on in that hug.

Sylvester's eyes widen and he deadpans at his son, hearing the words that come out in a rushed, hoarse whisper as soon as the hug he thought was genuine closes around his neck. Of course... this is his son, after all...

"How am I doing, Father?? Is Y/N looking?? I've been told that other cats become more inclined to date a cat who's good with children!, and since you're hopeless at that, I've elected myself, your darling baby son, to help you! So, are they looking father??"

"Junior!"

"Yes father???"

"I do not need your help to woo anyone, and I'm working on Y/N... " Sly tries to assure Jr, not sounding totally sure as his eyes fall downcast. "Its, uh, just a slow process, is all... " After a moment, he proudly lifts his chin, and he would puff out his chest, if... you know.. it was there... "I got your mother on my own, didn't I??"

Sylvester's proud moment is cut off quickly as his son pulls away from him to give a very deadpanned, sassy expression at the mention of his absentee mother cat. "And where is she, may I ask, father??"

A loud 'Aha!' comes from you a few feet away as you jump up, and grab something right out of the air.

Deeply rolling his eyes, irritation flickering inside him at the antics of his son, Sylvester Sr plonks him down on the bench beside him, angrily crossing his arms. Jr follows suit, looking like an exact replica of his father... except, smaller.

Blinking blankly around to see the two, with Tweety now wriggling around in your paws, you giggle at the sight. "What happened to you two? You were having such a heart warming father-son moment a second ago!"

"I'm full of shame, Y/N. Oh woe... "Sylvester Jr sighs, shaking his head as Sr turns his head slowly to look at him. "How am I to face my friends at the playground... My father- a loser!"

Sylvester pointedly looks away, angry eyes pointing towards the court. "My son... a spoiled brat. How am I ever to show my face in society, again?" An even heavier sigh comes out of Sylvester Jr at that remark, and Sylvester Sr immediately jumps up from the bench, pointing a stern finger at his son. "Oh no ya don't- Don't you dare get out that bag!!"

"But Father! I'm full of shame!" Sylvester Jr whines, holding the paper bag in his lap as you watch the two in wonderment. How they can bicker like this, and still have such an adorable, open relationship you have no clue - some kids are too scared to talk back to their fathers, - but the state of these two's relationship is truly, really endearing to you.

Oh how you love Sly... You catch yourself swooning at the thought of him, and immediately stop yourself. Stop it, Y/N! This is not the time for that. Taking a deep breath, you shake yourself. Okay, back to the task at hand.

Meanwhile, Sylvester snatches the paper bag away from Jr. "Oh, cut that out, wouldja?!"

While there's a pause in the argument, you jump and take your chance to hold up Tweety in front of Sylvester's face- his pupils shrinking at the sight and his teeth growing sharper, somehow.

"Oh no oh no- You mean old puddy tads- using me like this!" Tweety exclaims, wings pressed firmly to your paws and pushing, struggling to wiggle up and out of your tight grip. Yeah yeah, you think. Tell it to the choir.

Hopefully when I let Tweety go, Sly will give chase... and be all better!

Heh... isn't that how it works? It is, right? He'll 'perk right up'! you could say.

"Alright... here goes nothing!" You squeak, closing your eyes and letting Tweety go, hoping to god that Sylvester doesn't trample you in his endeavour to snatch his favourite little yellow bird.

Feeling a wind blow against you side and ruffling your fur as Sylvester springs to action, you slowly crack your eyes open again- first seeing Sylvester Jr as he still sits on the bench in front of you swinging his legs over the side of the bench, before peaking over your shoulder, and... "Yes!" You cry out as soon as your keen feline eyes catch sight of Sylvester looking good as new again on the court, chasing Tweety through the still-roaring basketball game. Clasping your hands together, your tail wiggles excitedly behind your back. "It worked!"

"What?" Sylvester hears your cheering and immediately halts in his tracks, looking at you then down at himself- a big, toothy smile spreading across his face when he see's he's all better. "Y/N! You did it! Thanks!"

"Of course!" You call back, then point at the scoreboard and wink. "Now kick those Monstar's butts for me!"

The green Monstar turns a squinty looking evil eye on you at hearing your words but you don't care- you're far too busy burning the image of Sly giving you a thumbs up into your mind.

"Heheh, no problem... " That trademark evil grin slips across Sly's face again as he rubs his paws together, turning his attention back to the game as you sigh, paws on your hips; Happy with your job well done.

"Uh, hello??" Someone speaks up from behind you, and you jump, suddenly remembering the mile long line of toons that still need medical attention.

Ohhh... great. You slowly turn around, seeing Elmer giving you angry eyes and quickly look extremely apologetic, paws awkwardly behind your back and spine as straight as a plank. Oops!

You might seem help... you think you tilting your head to see the rest of the long... long, l o n g line. "Uhh... SJ? You wanna help me play nurse, maybe?"

"Oh, yes Y/N!" He exclaims enthusiastically, hopping off the bench and taking up your medical kit in his short little arms- which is way too big for him. You giggle and take it from the kitten, patting his head. "I'll be happy to be your assistant!"

Fist bumping each other, you wink. "That's the kinda attitude I like to see! Lets go."

A couple hours and countless injuries later and the game is coming to a nail chewing close. Truly, this is a new level of anxiety you're feeling as you leave Sylvester Junior, now exhausted and up past his bedtime, curled in Granny's lap with a blanket strewn over him. Then you sit back down to watch the game beside a very injured Sly, as Witch Hazel defibrillates Taz.

If Michael doesn't make this shot - with but seven seconds to go, - he has to move to Moron Mountain in your place. You all dragged him here for help and now h's the one with everything on the line.

You cant help but feel a massive load of guilt.

"Oh I cant watch!" You squeak suddenly amongst the thunderous sounds of the audience at 4 seconds, and cover your eyes. "Tell me when its over!"

3 seconds later, the buzzer screeches and you hear the toons around you cheering, and peak out nervously from beyond your paws. ... What happened?

Your gaze flickers to the score board.

Oh my god. A deep, relieved breath comes out of you. "We won!?"

"We won!" Sylvester concurs, jumping up from the bench and throwing a fist into the air. Then he puts his paws on your arms and beams down at you. "We're not gonna be slaves!!"

You wonder what you could say in response, but the one thing your body is telling to you to do is throw your arms around him- so you do. And he doesn't think twice before squeezing you back, picking you up and swinging you around.

Then the world comes crashing down around Sly, as his son opens his eyes to see the scene- and gasps. The kitten sits up quickly in Granny's lap and points. "Oh, father! You did it! I knew you could do it!"

Immediately Sylvester puts you down, his paws retreating from you and a definite sense of nervousness - and maybe embarrassment? - settles over him. You raise your brows, confused, but still swimming in the joy of the game being won and just tilt your head as you confusedly smile. "What did he do??"

Sly Jr doesn't even think a second before gleefully elaborating- despite his father very nearly shaking his soul free waving his hands at him in a doomed endeavour to shut his son up. "No- stop, Junior!- "

"Asked you out! Didn't he?" As the wide eyed bewilderment on your face and the utter horror on Sylvester's dawns on Jr, his shoulders drop and he turns disappointedly at his dad. "Didn't you?"

"No!"

"Oh, father!- "

Sylvester Sr's tail, shoulders, and head slump forward as he turns his kitten around so he faces away from the two of you, embarrassment replaced by exasperation. "You're tired, son. Go to sleep. Night night, sleep tight, sweet dreams, don't let the bed bugs bite and we'll talk in the morning." Then he slowly, meekly turns back to you.

And you're practically glowing. "Sly... what's he talking about?"

"Father likes you!- " Sylvester Jr tries to speak up again, turning his head but Sr twists his head carefully back, a reprimanding tone in his voice.

"Sleep! Hah hah... " Sylvester (Sr) turns back to you, arms held carefully behind his back as he chuckles nervously. "My son is... troubled... a little- "He point at his head and swirls his finger; A gesture reading 'Loopy'. As soon as the meaning behind that word and his gesture occurs to you, you visibly droop. Oh. Okay... I guess SJ was just messing with us... Sly watches this reaction, and his ears perk up quickly; Sensing some dissappintment. "I mean, uh... unless you liked the i-idea?"

You peak up at him again from the floor, seeing his face slowly going red. "... D-do you?"

"Wha- I asked first! You answer the question."

"Hey." Setting your fists to your hips, you look stubbornly at him. "You were just taking it all back! So you tell the truth. Which is it??"

"Yeah- but I asked the question first!"

"Sylvester James Pussycat Senior!"

"Pfft... if you think pulling full name on me is going to change anything... " He rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. "You've got another thing comin'!"

Your eyes narrow, and so do his, before suddenly Taz jumps up from the bench he was resting on and ZOOMS past Sly so fast and so hazardously, that he's caught off guard and jumps forward with a yelp- accidentally knocking you.

"Oh!-"

"H-hold on, I got ya!!" Sylvester's eyes widen to the size of dinner plates and he grabs you just before gravity manages to drag you down to the ground; Pulling you back up to your feet- which just so happens to bring you two extremely close together.

Two sets of eyes widen and faces go red.

Everything seems to go a little quieter around you, the deafening sounds of the auditorium seeming to get plunged under water as the crazy all just slows down for just a moment. Enough for you to enjoy the few seconds you foreseeably get before he jumps back like someone sprayed him.

But to your surprise, he doesn't move. Just stands there and looks shocked... but does not move even an inch away from you. Doesn't even let go of you.

Finally, after a few good moments, you sigh and give in. "... Sly, would you like to go out sometime with me?"

"Ah... " His ears flatten against his head as he looks bashful, with a cute little smile that makes your stomach do backflips as he curls his tail around yours. "Yes, I'd like that very much."

You lean up and give him a feather light kiss on the cheeks- and he goes even redder.

#(faintly you two can hear a loud 'YES FATHER!!' from sj XDD )#Looney Tunes #The Looney Tunes #Sylvester x Reader #Sylvester the Cat x Reader #Drabble #Sylvester The Cat x Reader Drabble #Space Jam

56 notes · View notes

css1992 · 3 years

Text

Guilty Pleasure

[Porn AU]

Summary: Peter and Beck used to be a power couple in the porn industry, but after Beck dumps him, Peter is forced to start over. With no money, no family and nowhere to go, he doesn’t have much choice other than to keep doing porn, so he joins Just4Fans to get back on his feet and then one day he gets a very generous tip from someone under the username of YKWIM.

Warnings: 18+, explicit, references to past non-con/rape (not between main pairing, not explicit), daddy kink, Peter in lingerie, references to gaslighting and abusive relationship (not between main pairing, not explicit). The warnings are for the story as whole, not for this chapter specifically. I’ll add more in the future, if needed.

Read on AO3

Part I / Part II / Part III / Part IV / Part V / Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII / Part IX / Part X / Part XI / Epilogue

-x-

“He can’t do this!” Ned slammed his hands down on the counter between them, as Peter took a swig of the cheap wine he bought with the last ten bucks he had in his wallet. “He isn’t even in all of the videos, at least half of the money is rightfully yours!” He kept going, stating the obvious, but Peter just sighed and shrugged.

“I’m not disagreeing with you, Ned, I’m just relaying what he told me: he’s not gonna give me anything. It’s his channel, his equipment, the money from the subscriptions goes straight to his bank account, so it’s his. It’s all his. His words, by the way.” He took another swig of wine straight from the bottle. He had been drinking from a small glass Ned offered him – he wasn’t a pirate – but it soon proved to be too small to quench his pain, so. Yeah. Pirate style it was.

“You have to sue his ass, Peter, he can’t get away with this,” MJ intervened. She was sitting next to him on a stool by the kitchen counter, so he turned to look at her with a deep frown on his face.

“Did you not hear me saying I just spent my last ten dollars on this bottle of wine? I have, like, twenty four cents left in my pocket. And that’s it. I can’t hire a lawyer, I can’t even feed myself right now!” He raised his voice a little, but quickly got himself back under control and apologized. His friends were not to blame for his predicament – they did try to warn him Beck was bad news, he didn’t want to listen. “And you know what? I don’t give a fuck. He can choke on all of it if he wants, the videos, the money, the subscribers, I don’t fucking care.” It wasn’t true, of course. Well, partially. He really didn’t care about the money, videos, subscribers, etc, but he cared about Beck. He would have given everything else up if it meant he could keep him.

Which was stupid of him, of course. But he certainly wasn’t winning any awards for being a great decision maker.

“It’s still not fair. I mean, I knew that guy was sleazy, but you’d think he’d have the decency to at least give you something, you know? You’ve been together for three years, he’s been making money off your ass for almost as long. How could he just fucking kick you out and not give you a single dime? After all the money you’ve made for him? It’s fucking sick, that guy is fucking psychopath if you ask me.” MJ’s face was turning red from anger, which made Peter smile a little. It felt good to know he was loved by someone, even if he hadn’t been the best friend to them for the past few years.

The thought made him close his eyes for a second, guilt creeping over him. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d called either of them – maybe on Ned’s birthday, almost two months earlier. They used to be inseparable, the three of them; the three musketeers, as corny and lame as it sounded. For years, those two were the only family he knew, but when Beck came into his life, everything changed.

Stupid fucking Beck.

Peter used to think of him as his own personal super-hero – it did feel like he had come to save him, after all. They met when he was seventeen, he had been living in foster homes for almost seven years by then, after Ben and May passed away. At the time, he was with his fifth family, and there were so many children in that house, so many of them came and went, that their foster parents didn’t really keep tabs most of the time. It was easy to sneak out, and Peter did, often.

He met Beck on one of his night walks – and their first meeting should have raised all kinds of red flags, but for whatever reason, it didn’t. Beck slowed the car next to him, rolled down the window and asked how much Peter charged for a blowjob. Just like that. The teen gasped at first, but when he looked around for a moment, he realized he wasn’t in the most family friendly neighborhood. There were, in fact, some men and women around him who definitely looked like they were there for that, but Peter was in sweats, for crying out loud, and he definitely looked his age – or even younger than that.

His wide eyes must have given him away, because the older man quickly apologized and showed him a charming, white smile. He made up some excuse about mistaking him for someone else and the boy said it was ok. He was going to keep walking when Beck asked what his name was. Then how old he was. Then where he was going, where he ha come from.

Looking back, Peter knew he should have run. He should have left, because there was no excuse for an adult man like him to keep asking a teenager so many questions right after he basically offered him money to suck his dick. But that Peter, that 17-year-old boy, was still a bit too naive. To have such a handsome man showing interest in him – his kind, blue eyes smiling at him, warm and safe – was inebriating. He actually looked at him. And cared. At least Peter thought he did at the time. And he was so lonely back then, even that little bit of attention meant the world to him.

He should have run, but he stayed. Should have run, but got in his car. Should have run, but ended up giving him a clumsy hand job in the backseat, after just a few sweet promises whispered in his eager ears. Beck was so good with words, he could have convinced Peter to jump off a bridge that very same night if he wanted.

They exchanged phone numbers. For weeks, they texted and called each other, until they could meet again. By then, he was smitten. At twenty, he could see how innocent he had been, how trusting and open he was with a complete stranger. A 32 year-old stranger, at that. Ned and MJ, his only friends from school, warned him that it wasn’t okay. That it was weird for a man his age to be interested in a teenage boy, but Peter said they were wrong. He said he wasn’t just a regular kid, he had been through stuff they could only imagine. He was mature and experienced, and Beck could see that, which was why he liked him.

Looking back now, it was embarrassing how wrong he was. Beck was an illusionist. Sad thing was everyone could see the trapdoor but him.

“So what are you gonna do now?” MJ asked, fishing another bottle of wine from under the counter and placing it in front of Peter, who almost cried in gratitude.

“You mean besides crying myself to sleep for the next few months?” He wasn’t really joking. The only reason he wasn’t crying right at that moment was because he had spent almost three hours bawling his eyes out on a park bench close to their – well, Beck’s – apartment, hoping against hope that Beck would reconsider and come after him. When it became clear it wasn’t going to happen, he headed to the only place he knew he could find refuge – even if he didn’t deserve it.

“Yeah, besides that, obviously.” She opened the wine bottle and before he could take it and drink straight from it, she poured three glasses and Peter sighed, defeated.

“I have no idea.” He answered, only slightly surprised that he actually meant it. He had absolutely no clue what to do. For three years, he hadn’t had to worry about money – or anything, really. Beck took care of everything and he just assumed it would always be like that. That he would always have him by his side to take care of him.

He rubbed his eyes, taking a deep breath.

“Are you going to keep doing porn?” Ned asked, a worried expression on his face. Peter remembered he hated the idea when Beck first suggested it, as soon as he turned eighteen.

People are gonna lose it, Beck said. A pretty little twink and a hot daddy? We’re going to be a hit.

And they were. Their first videos blew up quickly, people were either disgusted by the thought of them together – because of the age gap – or completely enthralled. The haters helped them get more views, and Peter soon learned that there really was no such thing as bad publicity. Beck promoted their videos on twitter, where they accumulated thousands of followers. Peter remembered that, back then, many people sent him worried messages, saying he was too young, that Beck was a predator, that he was taking advantage of him.

In retrospect, they might have been right, after all.

He wasn’t too sure about doing porn when they first started, he knew once they released the first video, there was no going back, there was no way they could ever take it down – the internet was forever. Nothing was ever truly deleted. He wanted to be a dad someday, what if his children ever saw those videos in the future? What would have Ben and May thought? What about his parents?

None of this matters, honey, Beck assured him. These kids don’t even exist yet, don’t worry about them. And your relatives, well… They’re gone, sweetie. You can’t really disappoint them anymore.

So Peter did it. And he was terrified at first, he felt so exposed, people all over the world could see him in his most vulnerable moments, all of him, in every position Beck managed to put him in, in any outfit he thought the public might like, in any setting he thought might bring in more viewers, more subscribers, more money.

Soon, just the two of them weren’t enough. Their viewers wanted to see Peter with other people – other daddies – and Beck saw another opportunity to increase his profit. Peter was strongly against the idea at first, it felt too much like prostitution, which was where he wanted to draw the line, but, again, Beck sweet-talked him into it.

It’s nothing like prostitution, honey, he said. I’ll be there the whole time, I’ll be the one filming and directing, I’ll be the one paying the other actors, all the profits are ours. How is that anything like prostitution? It’s just like what we’ve been doing so far.

So not only there were a bunch of videos of him and Beck out there in the world, there were also lots of videos of him with other men, some of whom were old enough to be his actual dad. There was even one video in particular that he was specially embarrassed by – and sadly enough, that was the most viewed one so far. It was fucking humiliating.

At some point, Peter should have realized it became all about money for Beck – and maybe it had been like that all along, he just hadn’t noticed before. Over the last few months of their relationship, they never had sex just for fun, just for the hell of it. There were always cameras, and lights, and roles to play. Beck never said he loved him anymore. Barely touched him. Barely kissed him. He should have seen it coming. He had been too blind, or just… Didn’t want to see what was happening right before his eyes. He ignored all the signs. The voice in the back of his head telling him something was off.

But anyway, porn. Could he still do it?

“I don’t know,” he answered, finally. He looked at his best friends and sighed with a shrug. “To be honest, it was never something I enjoyed, and I don’t know if I could ever do it without him somehow involved, you know? I did it with him because I felt… Safe? I don’t want to get involved in the actual porn industry, I’ve heard some pretty fucked up stories.” Peter had heard horror stories about other boys in the industry, and even though his own story was no fairy tale, there was nothing so bad that it couldn’t get worse.

“How about Just4Fans?” MJ asked and both Peter and Ned turned to look at her in shock. “What? You guys were pretty popular, right? You won awards and shit, so there must be at least a few hundred people out there who would pay money to see some dirty pictures of you, maybe some short videos. That way you won’t need to go into professional porn and you wouldn’t need a partner, but you could still make decent money. And fast.”

Well, it actually made sense. It wasn’t like there weren’t hundreds of videos of him being fucked raw all over the internet, anyway. A few dirty pictures couldn’t hurt. And besides, it didn’t need to be forever, just until he figured something out.

“That’s… actually not a bad idea,” he conceded, drinking the last of the wine in his glass. MJ sympathetically filled it up again and he mumbled his thanks.

“What do you think he will do now?” Ned asked carefully, and Peter shrugged for what felt like the hundredth time. There was so much he didn’t know.

“Probably keep shooting videos with his new boy-toy.” He managed to say it with a steady voice, but his eyes burned. He still couldn’t believe how… replaceable Beck thought he was.

When he noticed them interacting online a few months earlier, before the boy was even eighteen, Peter was alarmed, but when he confronted the older man about it, he said he was crazy and seeing things, picking up fights for no reason. He always twisted things in a way that, somehow, Peter was the one apologizing to him in the end.

Months later, just weeks after the kid turned eighteen, there he was – homeless, penniless and lost – meanwhile the other guy was probably getting comfortable in his bed. If Peter didn’t hate the kid, he would pity him. In a few years, he would probably meet the same fate.

“Do you think he would take the videos down if you asked?” Ned asked, and Peter scoffed.

“Yeah, right, those videos will still make him a lot of money monthly, he’d never delete them.” And Peter would have to live with the fact that he would always be just one google search away from complete humiliation and exposure. If he ever tried to get a serious job, those videos would stand in the way. If he ever managed to meet somebody decent and good, those videos would be a testament to what sort of person he was in the past. Fuck, some of them were really fucked up.

“So… Should we create fake twitter accounts to trash talk his short dick or what?” MJ was already grabbing her phone and Peter laughed halfheartedly, shaking his head.

“He’s not worth it. Karma will take care of him, I’m sure.” He drank the last of his wine and whimpered sadly. “So… Can I crash with you guys for a few days? I promise I’m not gonna overstay my welcome! I’ll be out of your hair as soon as the Just4Fans thing works out.”

“Of course you can, nerd, stay as long as you need. We’ve got your back, c’mon.” MJ got up from her stool and gestured for him to do the same. “Do you mind taking the couch?” She asked as she headed to her bedroom in the tiny apartment.

“Not at all,” he answered with a sigh of relief, then went to grab his suitcase by the door. Three years together and that was all he had to show for it. A single suitcase with a few changes of clothes, after being kicked out of the house on a cold February night. His eyes burned but he took a deep breath, blinking them rapidly to avoid the tears.

“Then make yourself at home. Our casa es su casa.” MJ placed a pillow on the couch and handed him a thick, warm blanket.

“We’ll figure something out, okay?” Ned clasped him on the shoulder with a gentle smile on his face.

“Okay.” He sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his crushed chest.

He waited for his friends to go into their respective rooms, waited to hear their quiet snores, before he allowed the tears to run freely down his face, replaying everything Beck said to him when he kicked him out.

Before he knew it, he was a sobbing a little, so he buried his face in the pillow to muffle the noise, as he tried to convince himself that things were going to be okay, that he was going to be okay. But at that moment, that was hard to believe.

#starker #peter parker x tony stark

89 notes · View notes