#Same events just described differently... how much can change from wording | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

anantaru · 8 months

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danheng or jingyuan hate sex 🙉

including. dan heng & jing yuan

cw. rough, fem! reader

— dan heng

dan heng had his eyes on you, day and night, and particularly right now, with his forehead pressing to your own as his body drops on top of you, bouncing forward and back against yours, amplified by the power behind his rough pace.

you can say that it wasn't a big surprise that he was visibly aggressive in this current scenario with your frame tightly squeezed under him, hitting his hips into your cunt as your body follows his dominant lead, your pointy nipples brushing against his well-shaped chest as you whine at the unblended strength permeating in the impacts of his greedy blows, your soaked pussy stretching as he's targeting all the hidden pleasure buttons inside of you.

it's crystal clear and you're aware of the reality— that you both didn't necessarily like each other very much, some might directly go as far as to assume that you extensively detested even being in the same room as each other.

if only your needy bodies wouldn't act so fucking perfectly and fine together, like a golden symphony straight out of an ethereal play— glossy, exposed skin feeling every twitch and ridge of his length between your quivering legs as crystalline pebbles gather slowly on your sticky lashes when you finally decide to speak out for the very first time during this eventful night.

of course— other than moaning and hiccuping at how flawless and great he was fucking you.

"this— fuck! this doesn't change a thing!"

you yell out, hiding your face in his neck and wetly whining when he grinds his shaft into your sweet cunt, a little faster this time and you could swear on it, swear that you heard a subtle laugh against your ear, one of a breathless kind, evidently assimilated with nonchalance.

"d-don't worry." dan heng coos back at you, as you would expect, apathetic by nature, "i wouldn't want to change anything anyways."

— jing yuan

hatred is such a strong word, isn't it?

by all means, jing yuan tends to, on the face of it, find it beyond fitting and flawless when it comes to describing your 'special' relationship— if you can even call it a relationship in the first place.

granted, wether it was anything work related that you two had to be in the same room together for, or seemingly innocent discussions about whatever topic at hand would concern the both of you, you never would agree on anything— it even got to a point where it became an insider between your peers, stating that whatever the case, if you were to choose one route, jing yuan would take the other, just out of spite.

well, but at least only your minds weren't compatible.

because when it came to your bodies, they surely worked in tune with each other and you hated how much the general could get possessive of you too— whilst this was a different story, yet for some reason jing yuan couldn't let you be with someone else, despite him viciously claiming that he couldn't stand your guts.

but what you, on the other hand, couldn't understand all the more, was on how his almost insane possession over your entire being made you crave him twice as much, entirely, how you adored it whenever you melted into his body when he fucked you, it honestly made your mouth water at the simple thought of it.

and how you can just easily wrap your legs around his hips as he thrusts himself into your tight hole, feeling your sore and clamping pussy all over him as you cry out into his neck, desperate and without shame— the knot in your lower belly close and tight, ready to break, so good that it was beginning to ache from inside and out.

his hips were now, surging forward and branding your walls with his pre, and jing yuan, the ever so handsome general, set a steady, yet strong tempo to rocking his thick, thudding cock into you, because you can take it, right? can take him— and perhaps you both were indeed lucky in a way, to have found at least something that for one, will make you choose the same route.

#hsr smut #hsr x reader #honkai star rail x reader #honkai star rail smut #jing yuan x reader #dan heng x reader #jing yuan smut #dan heng smut #hsr jing yuan x reader #hsr dan heng x reader #hsr jing yuan smut #hsr dan heng smut #honkai star rail drabbles #honkai star rail x you #dan heng x you #jing yuan x you

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perpetual-stories · 2 years

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Starting Strong Scenes in Your Writing

Scenes are the fundamental building blocks of novels and short stories, and each one should propel a story toward the climax.

Generally speaking, your scene structure should mirror the story structure. In other words, take a novel-writing approach to a scene, crafting a beginning, middle, and end. Like a story, the beginning of a scene should have a strong entry hook that pulls the reader in.

Start with the setting. Often a new scene signifies a change in time and location. Establishing the setting at the top of a scene helps your readers get oriented. It also sets the tone and mood of what will unfold in the coming pages. A setting can serve as much more than a backdrop in literature. Have your scene take place somewhere that builds tension and hinders your protagonist. If you’re writing a thriller, describe a dark and foreboding place where the worst might happen. Be descriptive and use sensory details to make your setting come alive before you jump into the action.

Use visual imagery. In screenwriting, writers have to think in pictures. What images will excite an audience at the top of a scene? Your approach should be the same when writing any kind of fiction. As you write the opening of a scene, use descriptive language to engage a reader through detailed imagery. Think like a screenwriter as you’re writing scenes.

Drop the reader into the middle of the action. Hit the ground running by starting a great scene in media res. It doesn’t have to be a fight scene or a car chase, but physical movement creates momentum and builds tension in a story. It’s also a way to instantly engage a reader. Be sure you begin the scene before the high points of the action so you build up to the scene’s climax.

Write a character-driven scene opener. A good scene starts by giving characters a goal. Start by putting your protagonist in a situation that creates an obstacle or opportunity for both the scene and the overarching storyline. Try starting with dialogue, like an intense conversation between your POV character and a mystery character whose identity is revealed later in the scene. If you’re writing from an omniscient third-person point of view, consider starting a scene with a secondary character, even the antagonist, and use it as a chance for deeper character development.

Summarize past events. You might choose to use the beginning of the scene to do a quick recap of what’s brought your main character to this place and moment in time. A summary is especially helpful if you’re writing in third-person and a new scene switches to a different character. Take the opportunity to remind the reader where we left off. Instead of a straight-forward update, get creative. Go into deep POV and let a character’s thoughts provide the summary instead of the narrator. Be sure to keep this summary brief—just a line or two—so you can get back into the action.

Introduce a plot twist. The start of a new scene is a chance to pivot and take your story in a new direction. Start a new scene at a turning point in your story. Dive into a flashback or character’s backstory, revealing critical information that changes the course of the story going forward.

Keep the purpose of the scene in mind. Effective scenes are clear about what they set out to accomplish and how they contribute to the overall plot. They might include plot points or reveal important information needed to move a story forward. Establish your scene’s intention from the very first word and keep the rest of the scene on point.

Rewrite until you’ve found the perfect scene opening. When you’ve finished the first draft of a scene, go back and read it through. If your scene needs something, but you can’t figure out what, it might be how the scene starts. The best way to know if your opening works is by reading how it plays with the rest of the scene. Review the last paragraph and see if it ties back to your beginning. If the intro feels weak, rewrite it. Maybe your real opener is hidden in plain sight somewhere else in the body of the scene.

Make sure your opening scene is your strongest. While your entire book should be filled with compelling scenes that start strong, the very first scene of your book needs to lead the pack. This is the reader’s introduction to your story and where you’re revealing the characters, the setting, and kicking off the plotline with the inciting incident. This first scene has to hook the reader from the first line so they keep turning the pages.

Read a lot of books. If this is your first novel and you need some inspiration and ideas to help you start off your scenes, start by reading other books. Choose a book by a bestselling writer like Dan Brown or Margaret Atwood. Study the different ways they approach every scene. Reading other authors is a great way to hone your scene-writing skills.

Follow like and reblog if you find these helpful!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters

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linkspooky · 1 year

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BSD VS LITERATURE: NO LONGER HUMAN

The second entry in my long running series to analyze every single book referenced in Bungou Stray Dogs, to try piece together the author’s intended meaning in referencing the work.

Osamu Dazai’s ability name comes from the author’s final novel “No Longer Human”, you may have heard of it. The novel contains several events from the author’s real life, but is considered semi-autobiographical because it depicts the life of a fictional character “Yozo” who much like the real life author attempted suicide a total of five times in his life before utlimately succeeding. Many believe the book to be his will as Dazai killed himself shortly after the last part of the book was published. As for the connection to the fictional character, more under the cut.

1. Disqualified from Being Human

Dazai as a character borrows several traits from Yozo the protagonist of the novel. He has the same habit of clowning and engaging others in a false persona, while it happens mostly offscreen the audience and Dazai’s coworkers are aware of the fact he regularly indulges himself in vices like drinking, having illicit relationships with women (its often referenced he has a long line of exes and women he’s left upset over him) and that he’s also constantly in debt.

Deeper than those surface level traits though, Dazai shares the same motivation as Yozo for his antics. They are both people who feel utterly alienated from the people around them, unable to connect with their thoughts and feelings and because of that they resort to always engaging them in a false, and comedic facade. They are fundamentally uncomfortable with ever presenting their true selves around others.

As a child I had absolutely no notion of what others, even members of my own family, might be suffering from or what they were thinking. I was aware of my own unspeakable fears and embarrassments. Before anyone realized it, I had become an accomplished clown, a child who never spoke a single word. No Longer Human.

Dazai is described as a child in the same way by Oda, who is arguably the character who knows him best. Even with Oda though, and the rest of the Buraiha trio as a whole though they were friends it carries the tragedy that they never were truly honest with one another, Oda never overstepped the clear boundaries between him and Dazai, Ango never let either of them into the secret that he was a government spy all along. Even that friendship which Dazai found comfortable, and was so significant to him he changed his entire life’s past around Oda’s dying words, he still placed an uncilimbable wall between the two of them.

“I thought you were similiar to Dazai at first, rushing into battle and wishing for death without even considering the value of your own life. But he’s different. He’s sharp witted, with a mind like a steel trap. And he’s just a child - a sobbing child abandoned in the darkness of a world far emptier than the one we’re seeing.”

He was too smart for his own good. That was why he was always alone. The reason why Ango and I were unable to be by his side was that we understood the solitude that surrounded him, and we never stepped inside no matter how close we stood.

But in that moment I kind of regretted not stepping in and invading that solitude. Bungo Stray Dogs, Volume 2.

There’s a supposed difference in Yozo, who is a drunken layabout constantly in debt who fails out of college and Dazai the super genius who is apparently one of the smartest members of the cast, but honestly if you peel back the layers of Dazai’s “Superhuman / Godlike Genius” status his and Yozo’s behaviors and treatment of other people is actually pretty similar.

Here is the secret of No Longer Human that a lot of readers miss in their interpretation. While Yozo can be a sympathetic character, because he’s genuinely miserable in his life, and the way he tells his story is highly relatable to the unhappiness of many readers, Yozo sucks.

If you look at his actions outside of his self-pitying narration, Yozo is a serial manipulator of people, especially those with a status weaker than him in society (women, and even chidlren) he strings them along often taking money from them until he abandons them. Yozo is considered to be so pretty and likable, people often relate to his misery and give him what he wants without him giving anything in return.

There’s four major women he interacts with in the novel. A married women he gets to pay for his drinks a couple of times, doesn’t see for months, and then commits suicide with her. His reaction to her death is very minimal and he doesn’t even seem to mourn her. Then, he becomes a kept man for a woman with a child for awhile gets her to pay for his drinking habit, has multiple affairs on her while living at their house (or at least it’s implied).He also comes to view the child as an enemy of his.

“I would like my real Daddy back.” I felt dizzy with shock. An enemy. Was I Shigeko’s enemy, or was she mine?

No Longer Human.

He abandons them. (Surprise, surprise). Then moves on to marry a seventeen year old girl, specifically because she is a virgin. I probably don’t have to mention the predatory subtext there.

Yoshiko’s pale face was smiling as she sat there inside the dimly lit shop. What a holy thing uncorrupted virginity is, I thought. I had never slept with a virgin, a girl younger than myself. I’d marry her. [...] I made up my mind on the spot: it was a then-and-there decision, and I did not hesitate to steal the flower. No Longer Human.

That wife then gets raped and not only does Yozo feel little to no sympathy for her whatsoever, he then proceeds to just leave and abandon her because his image of her as a perfect image is ruined. He even refers to her as a possession he lost far earlier on in the novel.

Once in a while, it is true I have experienced a vague sense of regret at losing something, but never strongly enough to affirm positively, or to contest with others my rights of possession. This was so true of me that some years later, I even watched in silence when my own wife was violated. No Longer Human.

The last woman he gets involved with only because he has a morphine addiction and he wants to string her along so she can keep supplying him with morphine. If you strip away the thin veneer of Dazai as a master manipulator and superhuman genius, you are just left with his actions which include his constant manipulation of other people (children younger and more vulnerable than him) and even his own allies. He is a user, much in the same way Yozo is. This is just named characters, it’s implied offscreen that Dazai has Yozo’s same habit of burning through relationships and women like jet fuel.

Of course, there is a tragic reason for Yozo’s behavior it is implied he was violated by a female servant as a child, but that further adds onto the underlying point of the novel that Yozo’s genuinely miserable but he’s also the architect of his own misery. He is a victim who basically continues the cycle of abuse. His two primary methods of interacting with people is either manipulating them / stringing them along, or abandoning them. Even the Dazai who works at the agency keeps Akutagawa his biggest victim wearing the coat that Mori Gave him that represents the cycle of abuse just... wrapped around his little finger because it’s more convenient to use and dispose of him that way.

Akutagawa’s so insanely devoted to Dazai that he believes being abandoned was just a secret little test and if he performs well than he’ll finally get the carrot that Dazai has been dangling in front of his head for a long time. Dazai’s treatment of Akutagawa as someone to just conveniently use and then dispose of is something that leads to Akutagawa getting himself killed trying to earn that praise.

Dazai and Yozo have a similiar problem where they are pitiable in the fact they are victims themselves, they have been used in the past and it’s left them feeling alienated and unable to connect with others, but then they jump right into treating others as less than human too. Dazai has this strange paradox where he scolds Dostoevsky for believing in god and seeing himself as an agent of god or some kind of omniscient manipulator and that the real people who make a difference in the world are the people living in the world and struggling in it but Dazai... still doesn’t see himself as one of those people. Dazai’s like “You shouldn’t manipulate people like pieces on a gameboard...” but Dazai still views himself as one of the players sitting and watching things from on high rather than one of the pieces.

Dazai and Yozo are incapable of seeing themselves as human beings and eternally feel like outsiders when they try to be around others. However, at the same time they give no respect to the humanity or the feelings of other people. They don’t treat others like humans. Which is why they are essentially the architects of their own misery, they are alone because they choose continually over and over to either only engage in other people with lives, or treat relationships as transactional. These flaws of Dazai’s have been toned down since the dark age, but even Detective Agency Dazai still has this habit of looking down on other people. He has good intentions he tries to live by, but also in crisis situations tends to fall back on old habits.

2. Lover’s Suicide

Finally, there’s two relationships in the book that parallels Dazai’s two most significant relationships in the story. The tragedy of Oda in the dark era, actually mirrors what was Yozo’s most significant suicide attempt in the book. Yozo runs out of money and on a whim attempts to commit suicide with a married woman who had been more or less a longtime but distant acquiantance.

We threw ourselves into the sea at Kamakura that night. She untied her sash saying she had borrowed it from a friend at the cafe, and left it folded neatly on a rock. I removed my coat and put it in the same spot. We entered the water together.

She died. I was saved. No Longer Human.

This event mirrors the defining tragedy of Dazai’s backstory as depicted in the second light novel, and his reason for leaving the mafia. Essentially, Dazai finally becomes close to someone his longtime acquaintance Oda, who unlike him has a reason to live in raising children and dreaming of one day becoming an author. However, by the end of the novel it’s Oda who commits suicide and Dazai who lives.

“You’re such an idiot, Odasaku. The biggest idiot I know.” “Yeah.” “You didn’t have to do this. You didn’t have to die.” “I know.”

Bungo Stray Dogs, Vol. 2

If you want to sprinkle in an additional homosexual subtext what Oda basically does is commit a lover’s suicide with someone else, by choosing to die with Gide. Which means that not only does Dazai survive while Oda dies, but Oda chose to commit a lover’s suicide with someone other than him.

Then there is Yozo’s acquiantance to longtime friend Horiki. HOriki is his only real significant friend in the novel, but Yozo absolutely despises him. Nothing healthy ever comes from their relationship, he gets Yozo addicted on cigarettes and alcohol, he drags him to secret communist meetings, however Yozo who frequently just abandons people never really gets rid of him.

Horiki and myself. Despising each other as we did, we were constantly together, thereby degrading ourselves. If that is what the world calls friendship, the relationships between Horiki and myself were undoutably those of friendship. No Longer Human.

The reason being that Yozo despite loathing Horiki senses that the two of them are alike in nature. There’s also something to be said about Yozo getting along more naturally with someone he hates, rather than the people in his life who constantly attempt to love him.

Horiki and myself. Though outwardly he appeared to be a human being like the rest, I sometimes felt he was exactly like myself. No Longer Human.

His relationship with Horiki reflects both the partnership of the double black duo, two individuals who loathe each other but had near perfect cooperation in their teamwork but also the foiling between Chuuya and Dazai. They are both people who do not view themselves as human, Chuuya because of the mystery of his origins as the host of Arahabaki and Dazai because his intelligence leaves him feelings isolated from the world.

He looked up in the direction of the sudden voice. It was a familiar voice, one that belonged to the person he hated most in this world.

Your birth itself was a mistake. We’re the same. Is there a really a point to suffering through all that pain for a life that isn’t real?”

The voice was taunting him.

[...]

“Screw you Dazi.”

Chuuya wanted nothing more than to slice off the ear the voice was whispering right into. He could see Dazai’s wavering shadow by his side, and he wanted to gauge out his eyes.

“That’s just proof that you at least somewhat believe what I’m saying. Because deep down inside you’re the same as me.”

Like, they hate each other, but they hate each other for the real person they are deep down on the inside. Which results in him and Chuuya having an entirely antagonistic relationship and yet at the same time Chuuya is the one person that Dazai can’t really bullshit or lie to, because sharing so much in common gives Chuuya some insight into Dazai’s darker tendencies.

Which results in a relationship where neither of them like each other, and yet both of them are just a little bit obsessed with each other. Despising each other and constantly together.

So in summary, No Longer Human is a work about a character’s difficulty to form relationships with others because not only do they not see themselves as human they also treat the others around them as lesser than humans. Yozo is a character clearly stuck in that cycle of abuse, whereas Dazai Osamu himself is someone struggling in the story to break that cycle and curb his own manipulative tendencies inside of himself, ironically because of the close relatonship he had formed with the one person he was ever even a little bit honest with Odasaku.

#dazai osamu #bsd meta #bungou stray dogs #no longer human #bungou stray dogs meta #bsd dazai #chuuya nakahara #Oda Sakunosuke #japanese literature #dazai meta

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yuikomorii · 4 months

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After thinking more deeply about it, people shouldn’t get mad when seeing the majority shipping AyaYui because they are the most perfect for each other…not always in the good way. They are both obsessive weirdos that are unable to communicate properly and end up doing so much dumb shit that not only hurts them but also the ones around them.

Now I’m not saying they are the most problematic characters in the game, but they just are such menaces for whoever is connected to them. They be wondering why Yui wouldn’t make such a good couple with Subaru and Azusa but the reason is that they’re exactly too soft for her. They just want a kind and motherly girl but Yui keeps putting them in uncomfortable situations, doesn’t respect their boundaries and is unable to comprehend their introversion. Ik she was in a dangerous situation at first but that’s over after the second game, isn’t it? They started dating so if that’s what she truly wanted, she has to take responsibility for that and bring her brain to work.

Now about Mr. Yours Truly, he wasn’t irredeemably bad in the first game but he was such an asshole, let’s be frank. After the first game, Yui started treating him poorly or, again , not paying attention to whatever he was going through but I just couldn’t feel bad for him. They both fucked eachother up so bad but in an equal way so I can’t say any of them is better than the other, like some of their individual fans do. I’m not saying this about the Admin but some Yui and Ayato stans must actually hate the characters and only love their fanon version of them. Just because they forgive their abusers and are friendly doesn’t make them the kindest character anyone has ever seen. They did too many bad things to be considered the kindest and I’m not gonna follow the “they went insane” excuse because I really don’t care. All characters are insane and broken but not all of them did as much shit as they did.

I’m not justifying anything from that dick but e.g. when Karlheinz commits a genocide to make ghouls, he is said to have abused his powers and is evil but when Yui commits a genocide because her cute Ayato-kun 〜 died and kills all living things on both worlds, that’s seen as romantic? Like that’s extremely evil and selfish of her too. Or when others complain about the vampires being possessive and jealous, when Yui is the same person that stabbed Shu and threw him in the dungeon afterwards out of jealousy and she also paralysed Ayato then used him as her pleasure slave only because he drank blood from other chicks. Again, I’m not excusing them but she’s just as worse when triggered enough. All the fanwars are stupid when the game only has characters that wouldn’t be perceived as mentally sane or innocent angels in real life.

// Uuh… you kinda worded it a bit too harshly but I do get where you come from.

The thing is Yui, Ayato, Azusa, Subaru and Yuma are characters described by Rejet as either pure or kind-hearted, yet this doesn’t mean they necessarily have to be saints sent from above 24/7. Good people can react horribly under stress, pressure or shock. Yes, they can do wrong stuff and treat others badly as a result, but this doesn’t mean they have a bad soul. Trauma is not the same from person to person and everyone reacts to it differently. It can turn good people into monsters depending on the severity of the circumstances and some might never come back to their original nature. And, even if they do, this will not excuse their actions, but as long as they try to change for the better and take accountability, I believe they deserve a second chance.

Rejet makes Yui go mad in some endings and After stories to demonstrate that she is capable of doing something as awful as the Diaboys if an event hits her hard enough, just like it did to them. And, to be honest, that's realistic. Of course, not the story, but the fact that every person, no matter how strong, has a breaking point.

Speaking of the genocide committed by Yui, the reason why it’s considered romantic is not the deed itself, but the fact Yui created an Ayato ghoul after exterminating everything, only because she wanted to be killed by the man she loved. I think this was the only time Yui seriously used her brain, and the fact she was crazy when doing that, makes it hilarious.

As for the Yandere endings, Yui does that to Shu in MB, if I recall correctly but it was so unexpected because she really didn’t get any vibes throughout the route, therefore I guess it was just random writing. In Ayato’s route, the obsessive tendencies were obvious when she started looking through Ayato’s swimsuit magazines and tried measuring her boobs to the ones of those girls. I was pretty sure she would pull a possessive move on him later on, lol.

Truth be told, I don't mind that in fictional couples as long as they're both obsessed with each other and it's not one-sided. Besides, it’s funny how even Ruki called Yui “Ayato obsessed” in CL.

As a DL fan, I understand that no character is a total green flag because they all display toxic behavior in regular circumstances, no matter if intentional or not. Nonetheless, that shouldn’t stop us from loving them. Some people prefer the softer aspects of DL, while others prefer the darker, but keep in mind that those who prefer talking well about their favs don't want to be always reminded of all the bad things they did, especially if those characters regret them or weren't in the best mental state at the time.

#admin

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arteastica · 4 months

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Early in the morning, especially when it rains, and a little before noon. (20)

erwin x fem!reader

chapters: (1) | (2) | (3) | (4) | (5) | (6) | (7) | (8) | (9) | (10) | (11) | (12) | (13) | (14) | (15) | (16) | (17) | (18) | (19) | (21) | (22) | (23) | (24)

summary: I basically took Isayama’s work, forced it into a romance story, and made Erwin the love interest. Commander meets cadet and they fall in love (not instantly though)

notes: very berry canonverse (but some events were modified to fit my narrative), wasn’t intended to be this long, but it all is in the details right?

content warnings: smut where it fits (or where I make it fit. Also, reader is NOT underage, so likewise, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, please.) slow burn (I really mean it. I’m not olympic diving into any form of smut for the first chapters.) no angst. I dislike angst. I would never. I could never. (Although angst can be somewhat subjective so take it with a grain of salt?)

wc: 2.1k

If you were ever asked to describe nostalgia to someone who has never experienced it before, you would say it’s like walking down the hallways of a museum at sunset, with nothing but the sound of your footsteps as company, echoing down seemingly infinite walls decorated with sepia memories that belong to happier, distant times.

For you, nostalgia was always the one who spoke most clearly in the silence, and just like the corridors of that metaphorical museum, it just so happened to be ghost-quiet in your office that evening. And in such solitude, when the only heart beating in the room belonged to you, your otherwise welcoming workspace became an echo chamber of unsought feelings and unwanted thoughts.

You looked at his empty chair. So much for a quick ride. You thought. It had been hours since him and Lord Koch had ventured into the field, and even though the Sun had decided to call it a day, you hadn’t. According to the clock ominously ticking on the wall before you, as well as the animated chatter coming from the dinner hall downstairs, your shift had ended a while ago, yet somehow you found yourself still sitting at your desk, fountain pen hovering over boring administrative stuff you had read at least three times that day, working extra hours, all because you didn’t want to go home.

Not without seeing him first.

Making sure he got back safe was part of the reason, albeit a small one. Because, if you were to be honest, in the end the decision to stay working overtime for free, had come down to something way less noble. It was simple: If you were still in your office by the time he came back, there was a chance of something happening, there was a chance of something changing between the two of you. And that possibility was enough remuneration for you.

Your eyes, however, begged to differ and, tired of looking at the same words over and over, decided to wander around the room until they found the big window behind his desk. The sunset sky, with its sad pinks and nostalgic blues, held nothing but the promise of more loneliness. And that melancholic palette you would’ve otherwise found pretty, as well as the empty chair behind his desk, acted as nothing but a reminder of how much you missed him, and you didn’t mean just today.

You missed how things were back then. You missed the warmth of his skin and the gentleness of his touch. You missed getting drunk on the rich sandalwoods of his hair: musky, earthy, a little sweet, and just the right amounts of spicy. You missed the addictive taste of his lips as well as the velvety, honeyed words that would leave them in your most intimate moments. And most of all, you missed the way his cobalt eyes would make your heart soar whenever you looked his way and found he was already staring.

That was the best feeling.

And it had been so long since the last time you had experienced it.

The calendar would argue it had only been a week, but if that was the case, then that week surely had the personality of a month. The clock would call it nonsense, saying that time was measured and constant. You knew that Leon, however, would agree with you.

‘Alike are time and water.’ He had told you just earlier that day, as he read out of a small leather notebook snippets of what was, in his own words, ‘some nonsense’ he had written on his way there. ‘Flowing slowly one drop at a time, or rushing by in the blink of an eye.’ You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hand. “And then I look at you and watch it freeze, knowing little has it to do with the mesmerizing view, when I find myself in the midst of that algid winter that is you.’

Maybe it was the bright oranges and mellow pinks of the sky you were staring at, or the connotation of endings that sunsets have, but your vision started to get blurry.

And sitting there, listening to the distant clatter of cutlery, unsure if the thing beating in your chest was a knot or a heart, you felt forgotten. Like the stuffed animal nobody packed before moving out, or the grandmother nobody visits anymore. And you had no one else to blame for that.

If you could, you would have pinned everything on time. On how it makes children turn into adults and forget to write home. On how it turns friends into strangers. On how it makes people grow tired of each other. On how it was starting to make him feel fictional, making you wonder if whatever beautiful thing you had, ever even existed.

If you could, you would have excused yourself behind ignorance, hiding under the blanket of confusion, claiming you didn’t know what happened.

You wished you could. But you couldn’t.

You couldn’t, because you knew exactly what had happened. You had heard the words leave your mouth that morning. Very clearly, even through the loud sounds of your own pleasure. You had said them. Words that he probably didn’t need. Words that had been distasteful enough to push him away.

Guess that saying I love you can sometimes make you unlovable, after all.

He did warn you, after all: Scouts don’t start families.

They avoid love.

They don’t marry.

But, who was even talking about marriage?

Beginning to grow frustrated with yourself, you tried to blink your feelings away. But the more you tried, the more they would pour out, and the more your eyes would start to burn as a result.

And that was a problem because, in that very moment, you heard the unmistakable sound of his footsteps down the hallway.

You rubbed your eyes one last time as they approached, trying to erase any traces of your lingering melancholy, and when the door opened, your fingers hurried to fiddle with whatever papers they found in the top drawer of your desk.

You didn’t know if he had even thrown as much as a passing glance your way, but judging by the discreet, distressingly quiet way in which he headed straight to his desk without uttering a single word, you could be forgiven for thinking he hadn’t even noticed your presence at all.

And it hurt. It sure did. His silence was so sharp it stabbed the deepest part of your chest. So loud it broke you like the wailing of singers is said to shatter glass.

But, if you were to put yourself in his shoes, you would understand.

Why would he say anything?

You tried to reason with yourself while your fingers caressed papers and closed drawers.

Why would he say anything to his dumb, incompetent assistant?

If you were him, you wouldn’t utter a single word either, out of fear of being misunderstood. Because, in the presence of someone as foolish as her, any simple, commonplace action could risk becoming fuel for even more stupid, delusional ideas forming in her little head.

However, although it had taken that little head a while, it was finally beginning to understand.

That she was just his clumsy, fuckable assistant who, after opening her legs for him a couple times, had accidentally fallen in love in the process. Nothing more than a stupid, inexperienced city girl who didn’t know anything about life in the Survey Corps.

But that same city girl was starting to learn. Yes, she was was.

You rose up from your chair.

It may take her a while, but she always learned.

You walked towards the fireplace.

And once she learned, she made sure she never forgot. Never forgot that she was hired to make his job easier, not harder. To handle his mail, not to warm the left side of his bed. To administer schedules, not to moan his name. To revise budgets, not to beg for orgasms. To bring him tea, not more problems.

And like so, with all that in mind, you retrieved the kettle from the fire.

It wasn’t hard to believe that the Commander of the Survey Corps had other things in his mind. More important, better things than his foolish, lovestruck assistant.

You carefully poured boiling water into a porcelain cup.

But to this foolish, lovestruck assistant, the problem was accepting all the aforementioned.

You sliced a lemon and watched it sink into the water.

It was hard to accept that he didn’t feel the same way you did. It was hard to accept that his lips didn’t instantly curve at the sight of you, the same way yours did at the mere thought of the cobalt in his eyes, and that little frown he did when he was tired. And you didn’t need to look at him to know he had it on his face right now.

You didn’t demand to be the first thought he had when he opened his eyes, nor the last one when he closed them at night. But you just wanted to be a thought.

Just a thought. Maybe the one he had when the first snow fell, or when new buds sprung upon old trees. When the first rain of the summer fell on him while out on the field, or when a gentle breeze mischievously shifted his hair out of place in the fall. Or when it lovingly caressed his cheeks in passing, just like you would right now.

If you could.

You knew you shouldn’t, but you threw a glance his way. He was sitting at his desk, head down, hand busy on what you guessed was the report about the new horses. And it was so very funny. If you had it in you, you would have even snorted. How something that could bring so much joy could also bring so much pain. And even more puzzling it was, how a heart could feel both at the same time.

He was so beautiful. Sunshine strands falling on his face, hiding the depths of his thoughts. The genius of those strategies that were always several moves ahead of what anyone was capable of.

So attractive. The frown in those jungle eyebrows telling you it had been a tough day for him too.

You forced your eyes to look away.

Of course anyone would fall for him.

You thought as you added a spoonful of honey and watched it melt into the boiling water.

Maybe you could forgive yourself for having done just that.

You picked up the tray with whatever steadiness your trembling hands were capable of, and, in the company of a desperate, uncomfortable hammering in your chest, cautiously made your way towards him, the hesitance present in your footsteps making you feel as if you were in some sort of cage, approaching a wild animal.

It shouldn’t be like this. You had been bringing him tea for months. Every night. Without fail. So, why did it feel as if it was a complete stranger you were about to serve? As if you didn’t know how many cubes of sugar he took or how many spoons of honey he enjoyed.

“Be careful, in case it’s too hot.” You warned him, carefully placing the tray on the empty corner he always left for his tea. “I didn’t know when you’d be coming back, so I wasn’t able to let it cool down first.” You avoided looking at him, although it wouldn’t even matter if you did, because from the corner of your eye you could tell he was doing just the same. Head down, eyes on his papers, just like yours were on the tray, as you took your sweet time adding sugar cubes to his cup.

He likes it sweet. His tea. Very sweet. You reminded yourself, stirring as slowly as you could, praying the sugar cubes would also take their sweet time melting. Because, some hopeful, silly part of you still believed he would say something. You needed to confirm he could still see you. You needed to make sure you hadn’t become a ghost from his past. Not yet.

And for that purpose, even the coldest ‘Thank you. You may go’ would do it for you.

If you couldn’t have his hand to hold or his arm around your shoulders, the smallest word of acknowledgment would be enough.

But when none of those came, you realized you had no choice but to leave. Quietly. Collectedly.

Despite the painful knot stuck in your throat.

Leave. To your room. Where you could take care of it. Where your eyes could bleed an ocean, eroding the boulder-like thing you had for a heart. Chilling what was once warm inside.

“If you don’t need anything else, Commander, may I be exc-”

“Are you going to him?” The sound of his voice made your heart explode inside your chest, and its abruptness left you wondering if he was even talking to you.

You wanted to believe he was, but he kept his head down, pen in hand, unmoving; making it hard for you, in your desperate state of mind, to tell.

“Commander?”

“Are you going to meet him now?” He asked again, and this time his eyes found yours, dissipating any doubts you may have had.

And you would have allowed yourself to indulge in some form of cheer, happy he was starting any sort of conversation with you.

You really would have.

If only his eyes weren’t the color of a midwinter night, starless, pitch black, so dark it was impossible to see what was hiding in them.

But something was for certain: whatever it was, it wasn’t there this morning when he left.

next chapter

taglist: @elnyrae @mchlist @angelaevangelion @depitaangeline @ynackerman9499 @afatalheat @pumpkin-toffee @velouria17 @gassytritis @goddessinsweats @nube55 @jeanboyjean @crazychaoticizzy @braunsbabe @erwinawesomeness @apts2000 @lucifers-nipple-piercing

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comicaurora · 1 year

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As someone who’s thinking about creating a webcomic (largely for myself but may potentially make it public), can you provide advice on outlining and panelling? Those are the things I think I’d need some of the most help with other than backgrounds which… I can figure that out myself. Probably.

Good question! I've answered a similar one about paneling in depth here.

Outlining/storyboarding is a different animal, and depends strongly on your personal writing style and how your brain works.

There are a few ways you're "supposed" to write/outline comics, but pretty much all of them start as a script, similar to a screenplay. You note down character dialogue, the panel it takes place in, what the character is doing at the time.

You describe the panel like a shot in a movie - establishing shot, long shot, close up - and contain within that panel the script for what you'll put in the word bubbles. You might also include a thumbnail for what the page layout you're envisioning would look like.

This is because most comics are made by teams of more than one person, and the person who writes the plot/dialogue is not the person who does the layout and sketches - and usually that's not the same person who does the inking, the coloring or the lettering. So each stage of the process needs to be clearly laid out.

This is not how things work for comics made by a single person, and this is also not how my brain works in specific. If I try to write a script first, the characters inevitably end up being incredibly wordy and go off on philosophical tangents, and the dialogue doesn't fit right on the panels. And once I start drawing the actions I've choreographed, half the time I'll only get a few panels in before a character wants to do something unexpected but much more interesting that completely derails all my best-laid plans. None of my scripts ever survived contact with the page.

Fortunately, because I make art digitally, I can do things like "write all the dialogue straight onto the blank page" and then move/edit the text however I want. So the process I've developed that works for me specifically involves me storyboarding out the dialogue and paneling straight on the page rather than starting with a screenplay or script.

That's not to say it goes straight from my brain onto the page. If I'm stuck on a scene I'll usually crack open a little notes file and write out things like "what just happened, what is this character feeling, what do they want to do next" or just spitball possible dialogue options or write out a little mini-timeline of events in linear order. This gives me a guideline to reference when I sit down to storyboard, and it can help me work through a little knot of writer's block. Even then, the dialogue I hash out there isn't going to be as well-paced or as good as what I end up putting on the final page. It's a first draft of a scene - translating it onto the page, it'll play out differently.

This works well for my storytelling approach, which is flexible and character-driven. I like to give myself a lot of options - a toolbox to play with - and that means my outlines are often very loose, and can change a lot before I put them on the page. But this is a strategy I developed for myself through trial and error - it's not going to work for everybody.

I recommend you start off by reading a wide array of comics with an eye for how they were laid out and scripted, and test a few methods for yourself to see what works best for you. And also read Scott McCloud's Understanding Comics, it's an incredibly valuable crash course!

#asks #art stuff #writing stuff

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mazeinthemiroh · 1 year

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hongjoong x reader, long distance relationship

genre: romance, suggestive

word count: 1k

song rec: k. by cigarettes after sex

warnings: suggestive (nothing explicit), lowercase intentional

a/n: i was inspired to write this for different reasons. one being the pic of hongjoong you can see above. and another, evidently, being this beautiful song. i especially encourage you to listen to k. by cigarettes after sex while you read this fic, because that's the song it's based on. you'll understand when you read the lyrics <3 but even the vibe of it is... yeah, beautiful. i just hope i captured that here. hope you all enjoy.

the needle threaded through the grooves of the vinyl as it spun, delicately. elegantly. the soft tones of the music whispered through the apartment like wind tickling the branches.

hongjoong looked over at the figure laying next to him. you, in all your perfectness. lying beside him, with nothing but a white sheet covering your bare skin, he being in the same condition.

he recalled yesterday's events...

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

fizzy feelings, high on memories spent with you, he remembered all these things as he waited for you at the airport. the anticipation became unbearable, and yet he stood perfectly still, his heart in his throat. eyes fixated on the landing planes, praying one of them was finally yours, he wondered if you were just as excited to see him. and when your plane landed, you bounded through the airport to come face-to-face with him.

you collided and embraced each other.

"i missed you," you whispered sensually as you grabbed onto each other for dear life. that was all you felt you could do. the closeness of your bodies alone was enough to make hongjoong desperate. leaning back, he must've looked you in the eyes, getting you to stare back into his. and oh, those eyes. you knew them so well. after all the time you've spent apart, you could still read him like a book. the longing that sparkled in his warm, passionate eyes. you knew that look all too well.

so back to his apartment you went.

it was different this time. desperate kisses and gripping and grabbing and longing and passion and fire. all done in style. all done the way it was supposed to be done. this is how making love is supposed to be. this is how the poets had written it to be. this is how the movies tried to capture it, although they never quite encapsulated the intoxicating essence of love that was so real to you both.

no strings attached, you both said. too far away from each other to develop feelings, but too attracted to each other not to act on them. that was a promise you both declared to each other. then why was it all so perfect?

and as you sat opposite each other, sitting in the restaurant like nothing insanely perfect had just occurred not an hour ago, there was something different. something had changed. he could see it in your eyes. the way they kept avoiding his, shyly, perhaps coyly. where had your previous sensual confidence gone? perhaps there was something more between you that made you second guess yourself. and when you did dare to look at him, your gaze meeting his, there was some sort of electric magic that neither of you could describe. hongjoong grinned gently to himself at this thought. perhaps he was right, after all.

"i missed you," you whispered under your breath. you said that previously that day, but it was different now. so different. the flirtatious spike from your voice had gone. it was replaced with a yearning tenderness that made his heart feel light.

"let's go back to my place" hongjoong suggested, eyes full of intense fondness. "i need to hold you again."

you felt a blush flutter on your cheeks, looking back down at your hands as you fiddled with your rings. it felt good to be wanted. but the tone in his voice made you weaker than before. he was much gentler now.

"if i do that, i might not ever leave," you breathed out a laugh, but there was a sadness that welled up in your eyes immediately. you tried to blink away the tears that started to glaze over. if you looked at him in the eyes again, you knew you would break down again.

"is that such a bad thing?"

and after promising yourself that you wouldn't look into his eyes again, your head lifted at his comment. he was serious. you could see his jaw clench; he held himself back from revealing all of his feelings. such a complicated man could never put into words what he was feeling. how could he? how could he tell you why he wanted you to stay?

"stay with me, i don't want you to leave."

it was an offer hard to say no to. and as you closed the door of hongjoong's apartment, he reached for a record. you watched his fingers gently place it on the player, lifting up the needle and sinking it down. the needle settled onto the vinyl perfectly and began to play.

as you stared at him, he came closer once again. closer, closer, and closer still. until your lips were brushing over each others, gently. eyes fixated onto his, there was a giddy smile that spread across your face.

your black clothes hung elegantly off your body as hongjoong's fingers gently worked at removing them. his lips scarcely grazed the skin of your neck, bringing forth soft sighs from your lips.

laying you tenderly on his bed, his lips caught yours once more. the song was nothing but background noise now...

~ kristen, come right back. i've been waiting for you to slip back in bed when you light the candle ~

・・・・・・・・・・・��・・・・・・・・

now, he looks at you fondly, a smile gracing his features.

could he use the word love, now? arm over your waist, he brought your body ever so slightly closer to his. his smile deepened as he watched you sink into his arms once more.

~ and i'm kissing you lying in my room. holding you until you fall asleep...~

yes. love was the exact word. he wouldn't want to admit it before, but now he knows. you were where you should be. anywhere else other than his arms would be wrong.

~ and it's just as good as i knew it would be... ~

he just hoped you could see that too.

~ stay with me, i don't want you to leave ~

ateez taglist: @a-wandering-stay, @xlovehwa, @yeosangsbiceps, @anyamaris, @acciocriativity, @hawaiian-angel, @chammak-challokys, @halesandy, @chansburgah

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sexy-sapphic-sorcerer · 3 months

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asking about your piss take headcanon that merlin and dr who take place in the same universe

hell yeah!

ok so in Journey's End (4x14) the Doctor explains that Gwen from Torchwood looks exactly like Gwyneth from The Unquiet Dead (1x03) due to 'spatial genetic multiplicity'

Russell T Davies described it as the 'repetition of physical traits across a time rift'.

Oh, the time rift in Cardiff? the time rift only 16 miles away from Caerleon, where Camelot was supposedly located

which is interesting because you know who else bares a striking resemblance to Gwen and Gwyneth? Lady Helen from the first episode of Merlin

(and I think she also low key looks like that actress Eve Myles, but maybe that's just me)

if this isn't enough to convince you, need I remind you that the characters of Arthurian Legend very much exist in the whoniverse

the Doctor's involvement in King Arthur's life is incredibly convoluted and contradictory, even within DW canon. But many stories involve the Doctor intervening to ensure that things go according to Arthurian Legend and earth's history remains consistent

for instance, there is a plot in Classic Who where Arthur's body is placed in a spaceship at the bottom of the lake, in an effort to follow the legend that he is "in eternal sleep until England's greatest need", as Ace quotes. The Doctor says that Merlin must have been involved and yet the spaceship is activated by the Doctor's voice, which is "exactly the kind of thing (the Doctor) would do". Leading Ace to ask:

clearly, some of Merlin's actions are fixed points in time and the Doctor must confirm that those things come to pass at some stage in his future

so, when does the Doctor go back to intervene with Arthur's burial and various other events? is it during the Seventh Doctor's run? One story suggests that it was the Eighth Doctor

but I would argue it was the regeneration after that. The version of the Doctor who attempted to make peace during genocide against his race and was betrayed and defeated. The last of his kind, desperate and ruthless

the version of the Doctor that sounds eerily similar to Kilgharrah (and also a bit like John Hurt)

you know, Kilgharrah, who manipulates Merlin to act in accordance with an abstract fate that only he understands

"but the Doctor can't be Kilgharrah, he's a dragon!"

bet. 2 words: chameleon arch

it can modify a Time Lord's biology, turning them into a different species. Sure, usually into a human, but who's to say that it can't work for dragons?

Time Lords still retain their time sensitivity, which would explain how Kilgharrah has an innate knowledge that some events are fated and others are subject to change

and then Kilgharrah's laments about "watching civilisations rise and fall" and his vengeance against Uther are repressed memories from the Time War

maybe it was while the Doctor was a fugitive from the Time War and he decided to kill two birds with one stone and go into hiding as a dragon. and then also make sure that the Arthurian Legend timeline was in order

so, destiny doesn't exist at all, it's just the War Doctor spouting out bullshit riddles to keep the time stream straight

of course, if these characters exist in the same universe, what about Merlin/Jethro, Uther/Mr Finch, Gaius/Dr Constantine, Gwen/Katherine, Percival/Jeff, Nimueh/Lady Christina, Lady Vivian/Jenny, Will/Cline, the list goes on

I have crack theories for those too, each one more deranged than the last, but this post is long enough already

#I feel like I'm at the tip of the iceberg with doctor who lore. tardis wiki is fucking intense #so if anyone has stuff to add. please do #< so long as it affirms this theory. I don't wanna hear “actually merlin existed in the universe before universe” that means nothing to me #I'm having a fun silly time. miss me with your gatekeeping #bbc merlin #merlin #bbc merlin meta #doctor who #doctor who meta #eve myles #john hurt #russell t davies #tenth doctor #gwen cooper #torchwood #seventh doctor #7th doctor #war doctor

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mukurosgf · 24 days

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why do people like mukuro??? let's talk about it!

(before reading, the post i listed above is clearly less a question and more of a "i don't like mukuro" post, so it will be treated as such!!! ^_^ incoming spoilers for danganronpa: trigger happy havoc)

to start us off, discrediting mukuro in danganronpa IF as an "alternate mukuro" is frankly ridiculous. a huge reason fans love her is because of how much we learn about her in the novel that we couldn't learn in the game due to her early death. not to mention, drIF is an alternate story—not an alternate mukuro. she is still the same character with the same motives, just on a different path. this new path doesn't change the fact that she is still the same character with the same personality as the one we see in trigger happy havoc. to disregard drIF is absurd considering the main reason it was written was to provide us more details about mukuro by having her as the protagonist.

even so, let's get hypothetical and say "yeah! drIF does have a different mukuro!" even if that were the case, mukuro is still a deeply complex character outside of the novel and is so much more than her loyalty to her sister.

in her fourth free time event, "junko" (mukuro in disguise) describes how she has had the same dream ever since she was a little kid. makoto asks if she's talking about modeling and mukuro says nothing in confirmation. it's made clear that she isn't talking about a modelling career. it's left to interpretation whether she's talking about her military career or her loyalty to junko. i believe her words are in regard to her loyalty because of how she starts the conversation with how she wants to talk about her "true intentions".

makoto offers that could just still feel the same way about her dream. in response, mukuro details how she no longer Is so sure about her dream and goes on to say that keeping the same goal leaves no room for growth.

all of this paints a much different picture than a blindly loyal sister. it shows us just how much potential she has always had for the story she left too early. this mukuro feels the exact same way the "alternate mukuro" felt in drIF—unsure of her actions.

now, a lot of the dislike for mukuro comes with how the anime "danganronpa: despair arc" handled her character. the way her character was handled was very distasteful and uncomfortable for the majority of fans. this take on her character was drastically different to her character in drIF. in the anime, she is shown to enjoy the insults from her sister. meanwhile in the novel, junko's insults deeply upset her. this leaves us to wonder, which is her true reaction? we can infer that it is her drIF one considering that, as we've gone over, her personality in the novel is Incredibly in tune with how mukuro is in her original source material—trigger happy havoc—so why would it be any different in this case?

in conclusion, any way mukuro is "lacking" is strictly a combination of her absence of screen time and the mischaracterization of her true nature. she is a deeply misunderstood and underrated character for these reasons and i suggest reconsidering before calling her boring.

#mukuro ikusaba #danganronpa if #danganronpa trigger happy havoc #reposted from my twitter #read drIF if you haven't already

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soulmarrow · 3 months

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the quotes from senna vs. prost are so interesting... which are your favorites? i'm new to this whole thing and i've been obsessed with their story after watching senna's documentary <3

oh MAN welcome to the party!!!! aren't they just!! i find their dynamic, both while ayrton was alive and after he died, so endlessly layered and fascinating.

that entire book is littered with highlights and post its for me but here's some ~lesser posted quotes.. i also have an epub of the book if you'd like, i can post it !! lmk

'Senna told The Times Chief Sports Correspondent David Miller in February 1993, 'I want to be challenged by my own limits together with someone else's limits, by someone who is made of the same skin and bone, where the difference is between brain and experience and adaptation to the course; not challenged by someone else's computer. I don't want a car from Ron Dennis to let me win, but a car to let me compete.'

Post Suzuka crash: 'And what of Prost? 'I almost stopped and retired the same day,' he admitted last summer. 'Senna's engineer from Honda did resign the same day. Ayrton did not think about other people – he just thought about me. He was prepared to be in a crash and maybe kill himself, or hurt himself. He did not think about this: he was not afraid to kill himself. I think that year we should have been world champions with Ferrari and that would have changed a lot of things.' Senna ensured that we would never know if Prost's intuition had been correct. After the events that day in Suzuka, Senna wore the crown of Fangio, Clark, Stewart and Lauda. It should have been an aching fit.'

if you're just coming off Senna you might not know ayrton was a piece of work, petulant, dangerous, manipulative... its part of what makes him so interesting, the book really highlights that part of him !

'Senna's first priority was to break the will of Prost, his team-mate and immediate rival.'That's how it always works,' said Leberer. Senna raced to the boundaries of his own creation; and if sometimes that required him to colour his driving with the black arts of his trade he would do that, too. No regrets, no apologies.'

this describes their last meeting shortly before Ayrton died: 'I saw Ayrton leave the Williams motorhome, but instead of going to the garage he came through the crowd of Renault guests having lunch to come to where I was sitting with around ten other people,' explained Prost. 'A driver doesn't usually do that so close to the start of a race – especially not Ayrton. But he wanted to talk with me. It was very abnormal. He talked a little about the car, a little about safety again. Everyone was looking and listening to what he was saying. It was a shock for the guests to see Senna and myself. It was an unbelievable moment – you can talk about this, but it is hard to describe. I was astonished. He left to go to the garage – and I said that I would see him in five minutes. 'I did not finish my lunch. When I went into the garage he was completely alone. He was doing some stretches. We spoke a little more about the same things, but I did not want to disturb him. He wanted me to stay, though. He was talking again about Michael and Benetton. He asked me what I was doing. The words were not very important; he just wanted to share time with me.' Prost felt a little uncomfortable on his behalf. He would not have wanted some old ex-driver to be hanging around him when he had other more important matters to think about. So, Prost shook hands with Senna, wished him good luck and walked out of the Williams garage. He did not know it then – but he had also walked out of his life. So much had been said, and so much had been left unsaid between them. This was not supposed to be how they parted . . .'

+ here's some more posts with quotes: one, two, three + not from the book but highly rec this little article from alain about ayrton! here + alain talking about ayrton recently here

#anon #prosenna #was just thinking about “it was a fantastic story wasnt it” why did peepaw say all that #text #*

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bookish-library · 6 months

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Love letter to languages that are not English (as a native English speaker).

Your languages are so cool. Not only cool, but they are also so pretty, hearing people speak Spanish, or French, or Portuguese sounds like something out of this world in the best way possible.

To Spanish speakers: (personas que hablan Español)

Gosh yall sound amazing. From the incredible feat of rolling your "r's" (as someone who cannot no matter how hard I try) to how your letters interact in a way that English wishes it could, yall sound beautiful. The way of describing things is so beautiful, especially in song, everything is so romantic and described in a way that english cannot achieve. Your different ways to say "I love you", the weight each one of them carries, how your language bonds you together, strangers or no. I have been learning Spanish for around 4 years now, and I cannot get enough of it. Your music (I love Missa and Evan Craft) and the beautiful lyricism has me nearly in tears sometimes, yall have a way of saying things that english songs don't. I love the Spanish language and all that comes with it.

To French speakers: (personnes qui parle francais)

Your language is on a whole 'nother level because wow. Between the one pronunciation sound of about 7 different words that somehow all almost sound the same yet mean vastly different words and the way your words are built, English could never come close lol. Yall somehow have the ability to make noises within words and vowels that my mouth simply does not understand how to do (not from lack of trying), and yall someone manage to sound fierce, gentle, and graceful within one word. Your language is kicking my butt on duolingo lol, but it is worth it to try and learn this language. I first got into French because of Miraculous Ladybug, and yalls music is so fun. I love papa ou te [I think I spelled that right], as well as songs by Lnni Kim.

To the Portugese speakers: (pessoas que falam portugues)

Yall are so cool. Your language sounds like a friend you have not seen in a long time, but are finally meeting them once more, and they have changed, but they are still the friend you know. You've got vowels that english would have to amalgamate other vowel to even try and achieve a semblance, and you've got wayyyy more curses than english does lol. Your language reminds me of if French and Spanish had a really cool kid, that kid would be Portugese. It's rapid-fire fast, and yet somehow takes each step with grace. I cannot wait to learn this language, to attempt to wrap my head around this beautiful language.

This next part is just personal reflection

The qsmp has allowed me to learn so much about the world around me. I am finding that I can understand Spanish so much faster than I could before, and while I may not be the best speaker, just being able to listen and understand is such a fun experience. Though I do not know portugese, my experience with Spanish has allowed me to get a glimpse into this language, especially with watching Cellbit and Roier interact. Being able to at least slightly keep up with their rapid fire conversations feels like such an achievement to me, and has def inspired me to try and learn portugese one day. I am trying to learn French right now, because of traveling to France for irl events soon, and I want to be able to interact with people on their own turf. French is kicking my butt lol, but to be able to pick up words here and there on streams, or to understand bits and pieces of the songs I am singing is such a fun feeling. Getting to hear other songs that have such different rhythms, instruments, or tone is so cool, and if anyone has any reccomendations in any language, I would love to hear them. (Une fille de soleil by Lou and Adryano is a favorite, especially since it blends french and spanish) Qsmp is such an amazing project, and I love every time the cc's get into discussions about their language, or trade slang, or teach each other words. So excited to continue this language journey!

#Sorry if I misspelled anything or missed accents #my keyboard hates me and the only language I can speak confidently (ish) is Spanish 😅#I just love this server and what it has done so much #This is brought to you by watching coco en Español and marveling at the beauty of the lyrics and what they mean #(El latido de mi corazon I'm looking at you)#Qsmp #For the library #Language discussion #Tried to write everything out so that it was easily translatable but let me know if something needs clarification!#And if anyone wants to talk in any other language #They are welcome!#Learning new things especially something as personal as a language is such an honor and so much fun #I spent like 30 min writing this lol no regrets

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blainesebastian · 2 years

Text

coming home (ccg universe)

words: 2,679 ship: austin butler x reader summary: austin gets home from budapest with scruff, you decide you like it (for @stylesmendeshearted and obviously inspired by this) notes: masterlist is on my sidebar :) this is part of the coffee cart girl universe and could be seen as a continuation of ‘long distance’ but can be read alone warnings: NSFW tag list: @killerqueenfan, @karamelcoveredolicity, @elizabethrosecresswell, @gigisworldsstuff

Something you didn’t think you’d have to get used to is having a boyfriend who traveled—you know that a lot of people do it for work and it’s a constant stream of back and forth, packing and unpacking, living out of a suitcase and deciding just to leave it out in the bedroom like a permanent fixture you can buy from Target.

Then there’s the missing. No matter how short the length of time or how often you’re able to call one another, talk, the distance always feels massive. You suppose it should be, Budapest isn’t exactly a hop, skip and a jump away.

You’ve kept yourself busy at home anyways with work, with the film that’s done shooting, with all the puzzle pieces falling into place. You’ve participated in interviews, events, shows, parties and it’s been amazing, the experience is one not to be duplicated or forgotten. But you have to admit it’s been hard without Austin here, gone for the few months to shoot another movie, follow his own dreams and talents. No one is more deserving than him, but you can definitely feel the ache open up inside your chest, behind your ribcage, the longer he’s gone.

Because of this, you’re practically buzzing in place in the airport when his flight gets in, waiting in baggage claim and turning your head everytime you see someone who remotely looks like Austin. You know he’s probably coming home with his hood up, or a baseball cap, something that disguises his features just barely so he’s not overrun and can gather his things up in peace. You take a calming breath in, playing with the bottom of the sweater you’re wearing.

The thing about Austin that you can always count on is that he was available for you when he was gone—he made sure to call, respond to texts when he could, Facetime whenever the breaks allowed. It’s comforting in a way that you can’t describe that even when he’s in a completely different place, surrounded by old and new faces, obligations, that even when things change, your commitment to one another stays the same.

Another flight pops up on the board above the baggage claim and the turnstile slowly begins to rotate again with suitcases. You glance down the long hallway as you wait amongst a group of people for loved ones, finally seeing a figure that you know is Austin, can tell by the lean trim of his body and the way he’s walking. He’s wearing a black sweatshirt, hood up over his hair and a grin breaks out onto your face as you take a step forward.

His eyes scan the crowd as he gets closer, finally landing on you and the smile that spreads across his face is the same. He moves quicker, dropping a backpack to the floor as he reaches for you, closing the distance yourself to throw your arms around him. A relieved laugh slips from your lips and your bury your face into his neck, breathing in the familiar scent of his cologne and skin. You’ve missed him so much, can’t believe how hard it hits you all at once.

His arms squeeze you, slightly lifting you from the floor and making you laugh again before he sets you down. When you pull back, you tilt your chin up to get a good look at him, your eyes widening just a little as you see he’s grown some facial hair. It’s dirty blonde, subtle, just like the color of his hair and you can’t help but run your hand over it.

“Do you hate it?” He asks, lifting his hand to hold yours along his face.

A small giggle, “No, I—it’s just new. I didn’t expect it.” You press yourself up on your toes to kiss his cheek, to which he turns his head and captures your lips. Both of his hands clasp your face, running his thumbs along your cheekbones.

You can’t begin to describe how much he feels like home.

Crinkling your nose as you pull back from him, you touch your own jawline where his scruff has rubbed while kissing. It’s a bit rough but not terrible and you’re mostly making a face so that he laughs, which he does.

“It works for you,” You say after a moment, touching his cheek. Then again, most things do—don’t they? “Is this part of a grand incognito disguise?” You tease and Austin gently rolls his eyes before shaking his head,

“Trust me, people still recognize me.”

As if on cue, a girl in your peripherals approaches with her mouth slightly open and her phone in hand. She’s starstruck, shaking a little, and can barely get the words out, “Can I—”

And while Austin’s face is polite as he turns to look at her, you can tell there’s a soft flash of frustration in the blue of his eyes that he’s been interrupted the moment he’s home, trying to greet his girlfriend.

“No, I’m sorry—thank you though.”

You know it’s rare for him to turn down a fan, he’s probably exhausted and eager to get home, trying to give you the benefit of having him to yourself too long after time apart. But the crushed look on the fan’s face is something you don’t want to leave the airport seeing—Austin really doesn’t have to do any special favors for you. Besides, despite how nervous this one is, she’s at least being polite.

“It’s alright,” You assure—it’ll be quick, just one photo, and it’ll make this fan’s whole day. You know what it’s like to be in her shoes and the last thing you want is to somehow take away that experience.

Austin pauses, his gaze asking if you’re sure but you nod and take the phone from the fan to even take the picture. She’s ecstatic, trembling, can’t stop thanking either of you as you snap the photo and hand the phone over.

“Can I get a selfie with you too, Y/N?”

You blink, not exactly ready for that role reversal but nod nonetheless, a soft laugh slipping from your lips, “Sure of course.”

You pose, smile and give a small wave to the girl who continues to thank you both up and down before scurrying back to what looks like her parents near baggage claim. You hum, turning to look up at your boyfriend, who has a fond look reserved just for you, wrapping his arms around your waist,

“I dunno about this whole ‘you posing for selfies’ thing,” Austin says as he looks down at you, though his voice is teasing. His nose bunny kisses yours, “Last thing I want to do is share you.”

You smile up at him, lips brushing his own, “Let’s go home then so you don’t have to.”

There’s no disagreement from Austin on that.

Coming home is one of the easiest things you’ve done, especially with Austin in tow. You don’t spend a lot of time unpacking, grabbing a bottle of wine instead and ordering take-out to eat in the bedroom. Austin’s changed into a comfortable pair of joggers and a white t-shirt, gold chain he sometimes wears around his neck underneath the fabric. You hum softly, leaning back against the pillows as you watch him next you, stretched out on his side of the bed, eyes on the TV that’s playing a few Seinfeld episodes, just something as white noise.

Your cat can’t get enough of him, obviously missed him just as much. Lying on his legs while he ate and now settled perfectly on his chest like a loaf of bread, purring as Austin absently pets down the back and between the ears.

“Think your cat might have missed me more than you.” He teases, to which you ruffle Austin’s curls and turn to face him, propping yourself against the headboard.

“Not possible.” You inform him, a soft smirk tugging the corners of your mouth as you pet your cat as well. “Did you miss me?”

He gives you a look as if it might be a stupid question and maybe it is? But you can’t quite stop yourself from asking it either. Budapest kept him busy, he was constantly shooting, going out with people from set, trying to get enough sleep and schedule things with his agent that…it wouldn’t surprise you if the work helped him keep his mind off things.

“Too long this time,” He muses, meaning the time apart. Your cat stretches on his stomach and then jumps off the bed and he’s able to turn and look at you as well. One of his hands reaches out and plays with a strand of hair near your cheek before curling it around your ear,

“Next time you’re comin’ with.”

You laugh lightly, “I’d probably just get in the way.”

Austin shakes his head, his eyes glancing down to the bedspread as his hand moves to settle over your own. His thumb absently traces circles along your knuckles, “With all the craziness that the set and the work brings? You always help me feel calm in what I’m doin’.”

That he doesn’t have to explain, he helps you feel the same way too, even when it’s got nothing to do with work.

“I missed you too,” You tell him, even if that’s evident— sometimes it’s just nice to hear it. Then a mischievous chuckle leaves your throat, “Even though I practically had someone over every night, you know, keeping me company. Remember that guy from set? Ronald?”

Austin rolls his eyes and doesn’t respond, instead reaching out to grab onto your hip to pull you closer. He’s met Ronald a handful of times before he left for Budapest—a nice guy, worked the lights on your movie set, but it was obvious that there was a small crush developing on you that Austin wasn’t fond of. The guy’s harmless, never even made a move or said anything indecent. But it’s fun to tease, just a little, to wind your boyfriend up.

“He was more than willing to come over.”

“I’m sure he was.” He comments dryly but presses a kiss to the bridge of your nose.

“The only guy that was here has four legs and black fur,” You touch Austin’s chest, tugging a bit on his shirt. Your cat meows somewhere from the floor, as if he knows you’re talking about him. “Decent cuddler, not as great as you.”

“Good to know I wasn’t completely replaced.” Austin chuckles, squeezing your waist.

A soft noise leaves your lips, moving to touch his cheek again, thoughtfully running your thumb along his chin and jawline where the blonde scruff is. You smile, shaking your head, “Really don’t know how I feel about this.”

“Just pure laziness on my part.” He murmurs, taking your hand from his face to press kisses to, especially along your fingers.

You don’t mind it exactly; he just looks different. Still Austin, just rougher around the edges, that softness to his eyes from the curls in his hair and the fullness of his lips suddenly turned a bit sharper because of the scruff. You chew on your lower lip as he continues to kiss your hand, moving up to your wrist and pressing his nose against the skin there.

Heat curls in your belly, slipping lower to the center of your core between your legs.

The man knows exactly which buttons to press.

Austin’s eyes flutter up to yours before he begins to move, blanketing his body over yours until you’re lying on your back, settling between your legs. He tilts his chin up to kiss you, the scruff itching along your skin and it doesn’t hurt exactly? But it’s definitely not your favorite sensation when it comes to kissing him. You’re not about to be one of those girlfriends that tells your significant other to shave though, that’s just silly. But…you won’t exactly be upset when the scruff is gone either.

When Austin kisses you again, you expect this to go in a way that’s not unfamiliar—he’s just got home, you miss one another, your bodies aching for the other’s in heat and touch and desire. But just when you think you know what he’s doing, he switches gears and slips down between your legs. A soft breath of surprise leaves your lips, and he moves to encourage your hips up before he removes your sweatpants and underwear all in one fluid stroke.

Shivering at the cool air on your heated skin, it takes a moment for you to open your legs, Austin encouraging with soft kiss to your knees. There are a hundred separate thoughts swirling in your head right now, a constant stream that somehow comes to a sharp stop when Austin begins to kiss down your thigh.

The contrast of how sensitive your body feels, nerve endings exposed, and the bristle of the scruff on his jawline is sending electricity down your spine. Your head tips back against the pillows, a soft mewl of pleasure leaving your lips, as he drags his lips along your inner thigh and back again.

He nearly drives you crazy like this, aching for him, for more, more. A soft laugh of warm air leaves his lips because he seemingly knows exactly what he’s doing and it takes everything in you not to tug on his hair or tap his cheek, a barely there glare is all you can suffice.

“Did you need somethin’?” He asks, holding onto your knee with his one hand, pressing a kiss to where it creases.

“If you’re gonna have that attitude, go back to the airport.”

Austin laughs, something warm and annoying and God, you roll your eyes even though you’re smiling too. “Doesn’t sound like much of a threat, not with how much I can feel you tremblin’.”

“Stop teasing.”

And he does—there’s this brief thought that completely disappears out the window as he sinks between your legs. Shouldn’t you be taking care of him? He’s the one that was away for so long—but then again, Austin kinda gets in these moods where it’s just all about you, because making you feel good is just as important as his own needs.

And how are you supposed to argue with that?

Once his mouth presses against your center, there’s a struggle between wanting to open your legs further and closing your knees together, rolling your hips up and into him. His tongue does most of the work and you can’t stop the sounds from leaving your throat, a constant stream of pleasure and saying his name. The scruff along his jaw against sensitive skin makes your hands slip into his hair and tug, just slightly, and God, you don’t want him to stop. Even after reaching your peak and tumbling over the edge.

Austin lingers against you for a long few moments, panting, kisses being pressed along your thighs as he backs up. He has the audacity to lick his lips, resting his chin on your knee for a few moments before he leans down and kisses you. You cup his cheek, running your thumb along his cheekbone, your lips moving together until you need to take a breath, regulate your heartbeat pounding in your ears.

He settles down next to you, pulling the blanket up from the bottom of the bed so that your legs are covered. Your mind is whirling, wanting to be able to return the favor but also feeling like your bones may have been replaced with jello.

“Quite a welcome home.” You mumble to which Austin laughs, leaning comfortably against the pillows and reaching out to brush some of your hair aside.

“I’ll shave tomorrow, by the way.”

You turn your head a little, shrugging your one shoulder, “Think it might be growin’ on me.” You grin, moving to kiss him again as your fingers stroke through the scruff. Austin hums gently against your lips before kissing you back, resting back against the comforter again.

No regrets :)

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler imagine #austin butler drabble #austin butler fic #elvis 2022 #mccall writes things

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my-rose-tinted-glasses · 2 months

Text

Rose Reads Love In The Big City

Part III

After part two I’d been thinking a lot about the way this book is written and why I felt at times so disconnected emotionally from Young. The way he wrote in the first person usually has the opposite effect but for some reason I always felt like Young was telling this story from such a distant place, emotionally, that I couldn’t trust it. Not that he was lying but he was giving a very curated version of events. Because it all felt so cold, so detached.

This all changed in part 3.

“I had wanted too much”

This sentence hit me so hard. It was so honest and not followed by the usual self deprecating joke that I was so used to reading. By the time I got to this sentence my feelings for Young had changed. I felt less detached and more invested in his life and this love story. This part is less nuanced and to me it reads more honest. There’s less embellishment of events and more straight forward telling of events.

The beginning of this chapter reads a lot like the previous sections, the part where he meets goes to meet Jaehee and in the club, he still writes in that same type of quick witted comments and self deprecating humour.

But when he starts describing meeting Gyu-ho, it changes. It becomes less self referential and more about the we. And for me it read as much more hopeful, for lack of a better word. Although that’s was how I felt reading it. I felt hopeful for him. Even with the appearance of Kylie, it never felt as if “she” was given the same weight as Gyu-ho.

I found the naming very interesting. When we usually name things, we’re giving them more importance. For example, I’m not a plant person but I’ve had them in my house over the years. And it wasn’t until someone gave me an orchid, which I love, that I thought of naming it. She’s called Bela btw. Because this one was different, I care for it in a way I never cared for any plants in my house before. So she deserved a name. And yet, for Young that wasn’t why. It wasn’t to add something, but to remove something. Cause he likes the name Kylie, so naturally it’s less scary and so less important. So Kylie was just another part of him, an inconvenient but not that important part.

“Compared to all the other stuff life hits you with”. And to most people, Kylie would be “the other stuff”. The bigger stuff that you can use to compare to whatever it is you have. Like when you get sick and find out it’s not that serious. At least it’s not “insert scary diagnoses here”. So the way he downplays this made me really scared for him. But there was Gyu-ho and that made less worried somehow.

I was enamored by this romance. Because it read real, not perfect, but beautiful. In contrast with his previous relationship, this one was told with softer words and filled with mundane moments that didn’t need defending, as he so often did with Hyung. There was less self deprecation because he was happier. Even Seoul was “so beautiful all of a sudden”.

“I had wanted too much. I’d already been given so much in the past three years. When you try to have too much, you’re bound to stumble at some point.”

And that’s why this sentence broke me. Because like Young, I dared to hope. I wanted happiness for him in this moment. With this person.

But I also recognize this feeling of even when you’re used to expecting the worst, there are moments that make us forget about that for a while. We let ourselves get swept away by happy moments and “normalcy”. And so when the next thing comes, it hits a bit harder but at the same time it’s expected.

Cause even if for a moment he dared to expect more, he doesn’t believe he deserves it. The shame and self loathing are just under the surface waiting for the time to come back up and take control again.

Once again thanks to @twig-tea💜

#litbc book club #love in the big city #korean bl #rose reads

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shanesbluechicken · 1 year

Note

Im back and i see you doing mythical creature reader requests 👀

Not really a mytical creature but could I ask for a Shane x male! Death! Reader? Like the reader is a reaper and the embodiment of death, which is a bit funny because he runs a farm and takes care of animals

I also think it would be funny if reader uses his own scythe to cut weeds and they immedietly wilt under the blade

-🦝

The farmer is the grim reaper (Shane)

So I know you requested a male farmer, but I noticed that I totally forgot to mention it anywhere when I finished. But I didn't write down any scenes or opportunities that would need a specification so I hope that this neutral version suits you as well❤

If you still want it changed then let me know in the ask box and I'll write it over immediately🤗

TW: mentions of death, mentions of suicide, mentions of alcohol

Gender: neutral

Of course he knew from the beginning that you're a little bit different. From your whole strange ominous aura to that oddly looking scythe. It's just weird to have something like that when you're living in a city, but maybe you used to have a separate garden outside of it? Who knows?

Since you didn't have a kitchen when you first moved into the old farm Marnie made him bring food over from time to time. In these times he noticed how you never used your own scythe to cut down the grass and you somehow always seem to know when he was coming over. Even without him or Marnie announcing it to you beforehand.

He would stand behind you with the box and you already knew it was Shane by saying his name. That never failed to send a slight shiver down his spine.

That one night when he was laying at the edge of the cliff surrounded by empty beer cans he saw a black, hooded figure walk up to him. No, it couldn't be described as walking, it seemed more like they were floating over the ground. Not even the light breeze was able to move the dark cloak that covered their entire appearance, making it impossible to see how they looked like.

Maybe it was his drunk mind, but it looked like the figure froze in their tracks as they came closer and they shook their head slightly.

"Now is not your time."

It wasn't just one singular voice talking to him. It was as if the entire world population was speaking through their mouth like a large group of people talking at the same time. Then as slowly as they arrived, they vanished into the night.

What the figure didn't realize is that Shane recognized the scythe they held during their encounter. It was most definitely yours.

For the next days he couldn't shake off the feeling that he escaped something and he had his theories, but his mind refused to believe in them. Considering the situation and the way you looked it honestly seemed like he was about to die and that you were were grim reaper who came for him. Only that he was still very much alive.

All of that leads to this exact moment. Shane is pacing like a tiger in a cage infront of your porch, mumbling nonsense like a lunatic. The events of that night haunt him in his dreams everytime he falls asleep and every morning he wakes up drenched in his on sweat and clinging onto his chest.

The second you open the door the words just burst out of him.

"You think this is a fucking joke?!"

"Shane, what-"

"You like scaring the shit out of me like that, huh? Is that funny to you? Do you find it funny mocking me like this?"

He wouldn't have been surprised if the entire town heard him. Shane doesn't remember the last time he YELLED like this at anyone.

Oddly enough you don't even flinch. You simply close your eyes and let out a tired sigh as if he was some salesman coming to your door to talk you into a bad insurance contract.

"Come inside. We need to talk."

He expected a slap in the face or for you to scream back at least just as loud. Not this. Telling him calmly to enter your house.

That's when his wild theories and suspicions got confirmed. There is a mix of emotions clashing deep inside of him. A part of him hoped you were indeed just mocking him back then and the other part hoped that you weren't that cruel.

"Wait so...you're THE grim reaper?"

"I'm ONE grim reaper."

"So there are several?"

"Of course! If I'd be the only one then I wouldn't be able to take care of this farm wouldn't I?"

Much to your surprise he takes the information very well. You just have to expect to be bombarded with a lot of questions. Some more ridiculous than others.

"Can one apply to this job normally?"

"So you're basically working in customer service?"

"Do you have something similar to company parties where all the grim reapers meet up, talk about the weather and drink punch?"

But you're beyond happy to see that he isn't scared or freaked out at all and it feels like a weight fell off your shoulders. It's nice to finally share this with someone.

"Do you decide who dies and who doesn't?"

"No, we just pick up the souls to help them pass."

"Then what happened? At the cliff? You didn't show up to say hi, that's for sure."

The look on your face suddenly turns incredibly serious. It's obvious that you're fighting with yourself, whether you should answer his question or not.

"I cheated death that night. I broke our rules by letting you live."

"Why?"

"I didn't want you to die. It was an act of selfishness."

"Do you regret it?"

"Absolutely not."

There is an awfully long pause in which neither of you said anything. Your eyes looked up at the stars and the light of the torches around your house gave your face a mysterious look. That's when he realizes that your beauty is undeniable and completely out of this world. His heart is nearly beating out of his chest and his throat feels incredibly dry. What is this feeling? Shane can't find the words for it, but your enchanting appearance feels like a force of nature. It makes his knees weak.

"How exactly does that work? Isn't every person's fate set in stone or some similar bullshit?"

"Nothing is set in stone. Every person has a variety of futures ahead of them and it's impossible to predict which one of them will come true. Only once in every human's life they align and share the exact same outcome. They die."

"How am I alive then?"

"Your death was inevitable as well, but I still looked through your futures in hopes to find a hole, an alternative so that you can continue life. While I searched I came across a future, burried deeply underneath the other ones. I walk away and grant you temporary immortality."

He's speechless, doesn't even realize that his hands are shaking. Shane has no idea what to think of your confession, but he does set a goal for himself. You may never regret saving his life, but he won't take any chances. He will make sure to get the most out of his life starting right now.

Masterlist

#sdv #stardew valley #sdv shane #sdv x reader #stardew shane #stardew x reader #sdv headcanons #sdv imagines #sdv shane x reader

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tumblhurgoyf · 1 year

Text

Feeling super negative for a multitude of reasons, some not Magic related at all, but the recent talk on Blogatog about “microset” products just feels so out of touch. I don’t want to bring that negativity on one of Mark’s posts as I’m not sure I could be polite about it and I’ve mostly just dismissed the product as not for me already anyway. But I do want to vent.

First it’s like $1 a card for random cards? That’s nuts. Boosters are already overpriced with all the commons included. They worked some really good PR speak by explaining away cutting the commons to give you more rares and uncommons, but the reality is you’re just paying more for less. It’s not like those rare slots are actually going to ever reach an EV that makes it a good gamble.

Second let’s talk about product fatigue. Like not only is this an additional release (or four) a year, but you’re doing normal and collector’s boosters for this as well? Holy fuck.

The fact that Mark’s openly work shopping what variation of this product players might actually shell out money for tells me it’s not received well. I haven’t seen a positive video about it at all.

It’s a shame though that they can’t give their golden goose a bit of breathing room though. I shared that post the other day about... let me find it for the term... trust thermocline. The basic idea is that people who like your product will stick with you through some missteps and bad ideas. And you won’t even notice how bad all of them are because sales keep increasing and people keep paying higher prices and buying new stuff and all that.

But at some point you hit that trust thermocline. Something pushes a lot of people over the edge. You walk it back but it’s too late. Because the thing is that was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. They didn’t leave because of one bad story, or because $5 a pack was too much but $4.50 wasn’t, or because two dozen products a year was ok but thirty went to far.

They left because of all of it. The last thing is just what made them finally say “enough.” And once they say enough and leave, you don’t get them back. It’s hard to see because things keep chugging along and all your numbers and metrics look fine. But I feel like Wizards has to be approaching this. I wonder about why they stopped including space at the end of surveys for additional comments. Too much negativity they don’t want to put any effort into handling?

On a different front, I’m also not enjoying the lore changes they’ve dropped with this same product. I am willing to admit that I’m somehow still too close to the story to really take a step back and appreciate this; that could change with time. But my reaction right now is that desparking a lot of planeswalkers while opening rifts so anyone and anything can now travel the multiverse is just stupid. You’ve just eviscerated the story conceit that made planeswalkers special.

idk, I wasn’t thrilled with how they handled the team up cards anyway, and to me this feels like the next step of that. We got to see unlikely allies on cards, now what if we got stories where Thalia was on Ravnica fighting the Obzedat? It feels (I keep intentionally using the word feels to describe this--it’s my emotional reaction detached from the idea that they’re going to be able to tell cool stories they couldn’t otherwise tell), anyway, it feels like they just tossed out a core story concept and don’t even realize it.

Like as much shit they get for the world of hats approach, I think that really works for what they do and is part of what I enjoy. I’m honestly in part concerned that the recent big events that effect the entire multiverse and set up this situation where planes can blend a lot more freely could impact the distinct feel of different worlds. And while I’m sure that’s something that’s on creative’s radar, they’ve also burned enough trust in recent years that I’m doubtful they will handle it well.

Though at the same time this feels kind of par for the course. There have been so many let downs in Magic story over the years that the amazing part is that I’m still invested at all. But the story’s a slave to corporate needs and is undoubtedly more story-by-committee than ever. A left-right punch to KO any creative work for sure.

But I shouldn’t be surprised. They are not and have never really tried to say they’re anything else. They make blockbuster sets and want blockbuster stories to go along with it. Anyone who wants a fantasy card game with DC/Marvel story sensibilities to produce artistic short fiction is a damned fool.

Anyway this is just me venting. Could all be wrong. Time will tell. If you want to vent here feel free.

#actually also kind of realizing #aside from not wanting to be mean and negative to mark #I recognize that my thoughts here are so far removed from what wizards is doing and has been doing #that I don't even think it would be useful to engage and offer these thoughts #like they stopped doing additional survey comments for a reason #they don't want to hear it #I think mark does #he is very genuine and real #but it feels like enough of the higher ups at hasbro are just there to milk the cash cow #that it's kind of pointless to do or say anything to them

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