What is 'Crashing' about?
Crashing is a 3400 word framework that I haven't look at in a month. I wrote it as some sort of therapy after I hit a kangaroo in my brand new car. It would be a longer multi-chapter human AU fic (something I've never done) in which Crowley and Aziraphale meet on a dark rainy night after Crowley swerves to try to avoid hitting a deer and crashes into Az. They're both fine, cars are a bit fucked, deer is injured and Crowley basically commits to doing everything possible to nurse it back to life, including waking up the local vet in the middle of the night and throwing money at surgery.
Az knows the vet because has has a hobby farm where he rescues and rehabs injured and runty goats.
Both cars are too fucked to drive (the Bentley only makes it to the vet because Crowley wills it to (not really, he's human remember, but the axle is bent and so they are stuck)) and it's like 2am so Crowley ends up back at Aziraphale's little cottage/farm and they fuck. That feels like it comes out of no where but adrenaline, etc., and right before the vet calls to say the deer's on the mend which makes Crowley very happy.
Anyway... that's basically meant to be a one night stand except their lives kind of intertwine because of course Aziraphale takes on the deer rehab and Crowley's grown attached. And also Crowley's realized Aziraphale's got no money and now a totally fucked up car, but also doesn't want any charity.
Did I mention Crowley works in some sort of gross property finance roll and that his company is trying to buy out Aziraphale's hobby farm to build a highway or something. And basically forces that through... even though for a very long time (And several more unavoidable, definitely the last time, i'm just here to see the deer, one night stands) Aziraphale doesn't know Crowley's the one responsible for basically kicking him out of his home.
But then Crowley only works for the bank because it gives him the kind of power and income to do some very quiet anonymous good. Which then sees him donate substantially to the goat rescue thing. So Aziraphale will be fine, but has still lost his home.
So then the bad guy Crowley stuff comes out and Aziraphale rather hates him for it. And then eventually the penny drops that Crowley's also the good guy. And this is all very underbaked but here have a bit of the first meeting:
“Fucking fuckity fuck.”
“Are you quite alright?” Aziraphale calls as his sodden shoes slip in the mud.
The stranger whirls around like he’d thought he was alone. “Of course I’m alright. How fucking close did you need to get up my arse?”
Aziraphale’s taken aback. Hadn’t this gentleman been the one who braked, suddenly, on a narrow, dark, wet laneway, and caused the accident? Wasn’t he lucky that Aziraphale was quick-witted enough to swerve? Not that propriety would allow him to point any of that out. “Are you alright, though? No damage?”
That seems to take some of the wind out of the man’s sails. “’m fine, just… FUCK.”
It isn’t the most impressive vocabulary. “Perhaps we can exchange details and – ”
He’s waved off with a dismissive hand and the man disappears around the back of his car (which is facing forward) and into the dense trees beside the road. Aziraphale tries to scurry after him but a particularly sharp press of wind pushes him back.
“Excuse me,” he presses. “But we’ve been in an accident and I will need – “
The man appears, suddenly close to him, imposing but only to raise a finger to his lips and very loudly shush him. Then he stalks off in parallel with the road, back towards the ditch harbouring Aziraphale’s car.
Aziraphale watches him, pause and look around. “If you could perhaps – ” He’s shushed again. “Really, it’s pouring rain and – ” Again, the loud shushing. “Legally you are req – ”
“Shut it.” The spectre, barely more than a silhouette ghost, takes a sharp right and heads into the tree further.
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If I may be so bold (and feel free to ignore this request if it Does Not Vibe), could I please request anything with Ebenholz x Czerny? I love how you handle character/ship dynamics and would love to see your take on them.
"You gave him a what!?!"
"A horn-ring. I had Frau Vulcan smith it, according to a design I glimpsed him sketching in the margins of the Kovitsch duo we were rehearsing. I thought it would be an appropriate anniversary gift. But I take it from both of your reactions that I have made some kind of grave faux pas?"
"I - well, I wouldn't call it - you had it custom made?!? How did he react? Oh god, please tell me you didn't give it to him in front of other people."
"Nein, Frau Glacier. I have more tact than that."
"After this, I don't believe that. Go on."
"He was - he was overcome with emotion, and could not look me in the eye. He said he was very thankful, and made an excuse about a sudden onset of one of his headaches, and left for his bedroom. He hasn't talked to me, or answered any missives, since."
"Which has been how long?"
"Three days. Frau Glacier, tell me plain. What mess have I gotten myself into?"
"A real big one, because a horn-ring is the traditional Caprinae way of proposing."
"...Proposing what, exactly?"
"Marriage, you idiot."
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Thinking about image model generated art and gifmaking is giving me some weird vibrations about how there really is some weird association of the virtuesvirtues of a medium with the virtues of the people working in it. Gifmaking being associated with KPop fans doesn't make the concept of frame interpolation racist, and someone marketing themselves as a cheaper alternative to some other artist doesn't make the concept of generative art inherently class antagonistic.
It's somehow reminiscent of CJ the X's distinction between "stupid art" and "evil art", how a medium that has a low skill floor can produce things that are very stupid and easy to perceive as low-effort but how that's not the same as them having something wrong with them. If you look at my animation tag, most of it is motion graphics done with AfterEffects, and while it's probably wrong to call it a low skill floor program the way an AI art generator is... there is still a world where instead of programmatically telling shapes to whizz by on a screen, a different Van would have drawn those same animations frame by frame, producing exactly the same animation.
And I don't think the fact that I did them programmatically somehow invalidates the artistic intent that went into them, y'know? I could open AE right now and produce a 250x250 looping gif of clouds and while I know how to do that quick, to make it look good and to make me like it, I would have to spend time considering how the various elements, colours, timings and whatever the particle system/noise generator I use spits out fit together. I would have to fiddle with seeds and levels and timings to make it look good. I would have to spend a long time just staring and thinking about what I'm making before I could make it good.
I don't know enough about generative art tools to know how much fiddling goes into them once they're taught and ready to go, but I do know enough about deep learning to know it's a haphazard, frustrating process that you as the artist have only limited control over, which is why it doesn't appeal to me. But I have made gifs in the past, and I know how that process requires an eye for consistency and composition, framing and colour that a lot of other visual artists don't have because they're not working with time as one of the creative dimensions.
And like... who am I, from my high horse as someone in possession of these skills, to tell someone who is still developing these skills or who has a different aesthetic concept of what is good than me, what they're making is low-effort. That's not my judgement to make. I didn't make it. Only the artist themselves can say if somehing was low-effort or not. I don't see why I should have so little faith in other artists to assume they have no interest in putting in any effort.
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The issue is that it's like, not that bad. If I could take a pair of time scissors and snip out a little hour long triangle of Now and put it somewhere in Before, it wouldn't even be a ruined day. It would hurt, but not that bad, and it would be weird to happen all at once and then none at all instead of the slow buildup notice-too-late way it did happen, but it wouldn't be the end of the world. I probably wouldn't even have told anyone. Just took a nap maybe, or filled a hot water bottle, or more likely, knowing me, sat there and studied and vaguely wondered if the thing I ate that morning might have gone a little off. Some people have very bad pain. Excruciating, for some people. Mine is like, not that bad.
But the issue is that it's like, not that bad, but not just for an hour. The issue is it was one bad hour in March, three of them some time in early April, and then at some point I can't pin down in hindsight I forgot what it felt like to not be in pain. And it's never been that bad - I could sit at a desk, I could keep up a conversation, and I worked all the way through it, best I could - but my chest hurts in new ways from hunching over old pain and bracing my arms on that desk without noticing. My jaw aches from clenching my teeth, and my boss doesn't know that it's not that bad when she sits me down and asks me why my time has yet to solidify in an appropriate amount of papers on her desk. Because it has been months, see, and a trickle of sand fills a bucket in a year the same way a shovel can do it in a day.
And I am lucky, genuinely. I am so lucky that it's like, not that bad. I have never needed the hospital for it, never been to the emergency room. I could walk, every day, even if it wasn't pretty. But the issue, the god damned issue is that I do not own time scissors because they don't exist. Thirty seconds underwater is like, not that bad, but thirty more, and thirty more, and thirty more, and thirty more, and thirty more, without coming up for air, thirty more, thirty more, thirty more has you drowning. And that's what I think people don't understand, sometimes. I know I didn't. I do now.
Hey. Chronically ill friend. Come here. Let me tell you a secret.
Even if it's like, really not that bad, you're allowed to admit it can be really fucking hard.
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