#context is I have a sticker with just the saying but it was orange and blue so I had to draw Logan and the Orange side | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

hyuck-xix · 1 year

Note

Hi for the kpop asks I want to know about 127 :>

hi! thanks for asking! <3

✦ my first bias: technically, probably mark because he was the first nct member i learned about, but it quickly became taeyong after i actually started getting into nct, and taeyong was my bias for the first three or so months of being an nctzen!

✦ my current bias(es): haechan! he is my ult, i love him so very much. probably slightly too parasocially attached to him but i'm not going to worry about it lol...

✦ my album and/or era ranking (or favorite of each): 127 has so many albums, and i decided to write my reasoning behind each one...bear with me... from favorite to least favorite:

Cherry Bomb: this is a masterpiece of an album. Cherry Bomb is SUCH a good song, the music video has that artistic scrappy Neo identity, the styling is so cool in my opinion, and the album is full of great songs. When i think of nct 127 this the era i think of.

We Are Superhuman: okay, i just personally love this album. Superhuman was what made me an nctzen. I feel so fond of it, it's my baby. Superhuman and Highway to Heaven are such feel-good songs! And I love the concept/styling/photobook.

Limitless: Limitless is a song that's really grown on me recently. The "Rough vers. MV" was truly ahead of its time. The styling was... questionable lol. Poor haechan's hair! But this album also gave me Back 2 U, which is maybe the best 127 b-side ever.

Regulate (Simon Says): I love Simon Says, it was another early favorite of mine in my baby nctzen days. The styling for this mv was immaculate, I still dream about yuta's grey plaid skirt thing and the vans shoelaces tied around the ankles.

Loveholic (Gimme Gimme): Maybe it's because I got into nct in this era, but loveholic is really special to me. The concepts for the photobook really speak to me (especially the rain one, but i also find the bright green and orange color scheme of the album cover sooo satisfying) and 'right now', the last song on the album, is my ultimate favorite 127 b-side, i almost feel a little possessive over it >.< the gimme gimme mv was a little lacking but i like the song itself!

Chain: the chain music video!! omg. Also the b-sides dreaming and 100 are such hidden gems. I also really vibed with the styling (shout out to the stylists for giving taeil that sexy haircut lol). 127's japanese releases hit different for me.

Neo Zone: I mean... neo zone is iconic. i feel like i should love it more than i do? kick it is a banger, the mv is soooo well executed, i love mullet hyuck and mark's stripey hair, i love the concept and outfits, and the photobook is crammed full of really cute photos... but there's something about it that i don't feel as nostalgic or lovey about compared to the albums i ranked above it. i think most of the b-sides feel slightly bland to me? and sometimes i feel like neo zone was a little too perfected, like it lacks some of that original 127 crunchy absurdity.

Neo Zone: The Final Round (Punch): I actually am fond of Punch, she's underrated imo. there's something about that song that i find really satisfying. the styling isn't anything to write home about, but it works well in the context of the concept.

Regular-Irregular: Confession...I don't really like Regular *winces*. i'm too anti-capitalist for it lol! but that said, the music video is delicious. And the song itself is really catchy... if i look past the lyrics. although... maybe the lyrics are supposed to provide a negative commentary on our money-obsessed culture?? are they that deep?? i'll have to think about this...

Sticker: When this album came out i remember liking it a lot. But as time has gone on, it's gotten more boring for me. The song and music video weren't bad objectively, but i feel like it marked a significant shift in 127's artistic voice, a change i didn't really want... although shout out to the seoul city version of the photobook, which i still think is gorgeoussssss

Awaken: I cannot get through Wakey-wakey. it is SO grating to my years lol. however! i am obsessed with ‘end-to-start’, the outro song of the album. i get chills every time mark says “the origin will begin”. i’m also giving it bonus points because i like the way haechan was styled :P

2 Baddies: The biggest reason why this album is so low is that i really don’t like most of the songs on the album. For the title track, the song and mv aren’t terrible. i like that it’s playful, i really enjoy jaehyun’s rap, and the styling is really cool! but... idk, there’s just something about the whole thing that makes me disappointed, like i feel like it had potential to be better.

Favorite: oh lord... its only saving graces for me are: the catharsis photoshoot, the cool forest set that taeyong and mark rap in in the mv, haechan singing ‘your love, your love’ in the outro, and love on the floor being one of my top guilty pleasure songs. The rest was just not it for me.

Fire Truck: hey, i guess ranking their debut album last means they’ve come a long ways?? I don’t really care for any of the songs on this album. the fire truck music video was... interesting... i do love the styling (i might be the only one who does, but i actually sincerely do!), and i like the choreography, but that’s about it.

✦ how i got into them: at the time i was really into shinee, and i remember watching this mashup and i was blown away by superhuman, and that was the beginning! but i didn’t quite consider myself an nctzen then. i think a month or so later when i was leaving for an internship and i was really anxious, i started listening to all the 127 title tracks to help me feel strong and tough and i think that’s when i really formed an emotional connection to 127 itself and got to know the members better.

✦ which member would be my best friend: oh god, this is hard because i’d want to be friends with all of them! i think personality-wise, i’d probably get along the best with taeyong. i see a lot of myself in him.

✦ something i associate with them (or with a bias/any member): with 127 as a group: neon colors, leather fingerless gloves, messy hair, science fiction. with taeyong: fish, furiously scribbling in a notebook, the subway/metro. with haechan: falling asleep with your head on someone’s shoulder, scuffed favorite sneakers, lambs and baby goats, the concepts of soulmates and fate, the golden hour.

📥 send me a kpop group & i'll answer

#nct 127 #asks #this was so fun to do thank you for asking about 127!#i hope my opinions on the album ranking weren't too upsetting lol

1 note · View note

msgrumpygills · 3 years

Note

This is really petty, but for all Jared's pushing of his various products on social media, Mantra, Walker, Towwn, whatever he thinks he's entitled to shill his followers into buying... it's actually having a negative effect.

HIs engagement on Twitter is through the floor. He is LIVE TWEETING Walker (or someone is from his account), which is a high engagement activity and he's getting less than 70 replies on some of the tweets and a maximum of 200 on others, mainly in the 120 range.

That's a problem because fans should be tuning in just to be in his live thinking zone and hoping he'll respond.

Jensen gets literally 15 times that engagement and he's not "working" his social media (I'm sure he will when the Boys comes out).

The issue isn't Jared isn't popular, it's that his social media isn't. For his fans he's not giving them anything but he's always asking. Someone will take over I suspect and start cutiefying it. It's BORING for your star just to ask you to buy stuff or watch their shit. It's about engagement, that's the sticker on the can, and that isn't engaging. I can see Walker going below a million live viewers this week (and believe me, live viewers are still the benchmark) based on that engagement. Let's see....

I'm not anti-Jared. I don't know him. He could be a great guy and he's likely, like all of us, to be a complex one. I'm anti his greedy behaviour because it shows he doesn't care about his fans, they are just piggy banks. Lots of them got a lot of support thinking he genuinely cared and they supported him because of that and this is a shitty way to repay that.

We’re petty here, so you can bring your pettiness every day if you want!

You got me curious about his engagement on the live tweeting so I went to his Twitter and oh boy. I checked his page last night to try and get some context to an ask, but didn’t pay attention to the engagement. The only tweet during the live tweet that broke 300 retweets was the tweet that said there was a new episode on. Now he was getting a few thousand likes, but comparing that to the fact that he has 2.9 MILLION followers, that’s really sad and telling. Now I know that some people will say “oh some of those followers are probably bots or spam accounts!” but that doesn’t help. Even if a lot of those followers are bots, that pushes the idea that he’s buying followers, and also shows that either A. there are only a few thousand real accounts that follow him, or B. only a few thousand people care. Either way, it isn’t good for him.

Jensen has a few hundred-thousand fans less than Jared and gets way more engagement on his posts, and he doesn’t even post as much! It goes to show that Jared’s constant ads and self promotion are turning people off. Either that or people are realizing that he’s not as great as they thought he was which is entirely possible. I’ve seen a lot of fans who said that seeing him on a show by himself showed them that he wasn’t a great actor. I think you’re right about his social media not being popular. Jared still has a ton of fans, but they’re not engaging with him on social media because of the way he’s handling it.

If you look at Jensen’s social media (using him as an example because I feel like that would be comparing apples to apples and not apples to oranges) even though he isn’t as active (I’m sure he will be when The Boys starts filming and airing) he’s not constantly staging and shilling things. I’m not saying he never promotes anything, but when he does, it’s just one post sometimes two (depending on if it’s promoting an event or something) and that’s it. The rest of his posts are regular posts, candid shots, and no ads! His social media feels genuine, and I think for a lot of fans, it’s nice to get a glimpse into the personal life without being creepy, you know? It makes these celebrities look more relatable and more accessible. Hopefully that makes sense!

Then you go to Jared’s social media and it’s just constant ads, recycled staged photoshoots, and more self promotion. I know fans will say “but he posts family pictures!” and yes he does, but they’re always to get attention to whatever he’s trying to shill. He’s taking a note from Gen’s book and using his kids and “family goals” to get attention to his scam of the week. Even his “candid” shots are ads or self promotion so it seems completely fake and staged.

I honestly wouldn’t be surprised if viewership continued to decrease. I was seeing some pretty big fans who loved the show in the beginning who are starting to get bored. Add Jared’s dumbass behavior and the constant force feeding of the Padalecki Marriage Tour and it’s a recipe for disaster.

I completely agree with you about the fans getting ripped off for their devotion and support! It’s so blatant that he’s using the “family” to try and get money and not to be dramatic, but he kinda soiled the whole family thing with his “Walker family” and “Mantra family”. It’s a big slap in the face to the fans and he doesn’t care as long as they’re lining his pockets. It’s sad.

This got a bit long so I apologize, but stop by anytime! You had some interesting insight to engagements on social media! :D

#grumpy answers #jared padalecki #Anonymous

9 notes · View notes

laylacooke · 4 years

Text

Sex Toys Don’t Make Good Cat Toys || Rio, Cordy, & Layla

timing: Late August. parties: @3starsquinn, Cordy [ @kadavernagh], & @laylacooke summary: Stay tuned for the thrilling conclusion of...A Little Catty.

Layla wasn’t entirely sure how she had managed to pull off communicating with Leah, but she had. It was a miracle, and now she was trotting down the sidewalk headed towards Pandora’s Boxxx, where this had all started. It hadn’t taken her long to process that the witch from the shop had done it. It had been the last place she had gone, before waking up with orange fur covering her miniature body. However, her only regret, now, was putting poor Orion through yet another one of her mishaps; this seemingly the worse, since there wasn’t really much context behind her wanting to meet him there. Not only that, would he know it was her when she looked up and greeted him with a meow. She would soon find out.

Coming to a stop, just outside the entrance, she found a spot near the outside wall of the building waiting for him to show. And if all went well, she would walk in a cat and out a human (well almost human) again.

Orion was uncomfortable. Of course, he’d do anything for Layla. Even if that involved a sex shop, which Rio was definitely not confident enough to force himself inside of. Rio and Winston didn’t even sleep in the same bed, how was Rio supposed to casually stroll into a sex shop? But Layla had needed him, and he supposed he could brave the embarrassment if it meant doing her a favor. On his way towards the doors of the shop, a cat popped onto a bench and cutting his path off from the store. “Hey there buddy!” Rio swooped down, running a palm against the cat and scratching behind its ears, “I can’t hang out too long. I gotta go embarrass myself inside of this shop for a friend of mine.” He continued petting the cut for another few seconds before standing back up and side stepping the cat to walk into the store.

Layla sat patiently waiting for Rio, when she finally spotted him. Leaping onto a nearby bench, she meowed as she felt his hand come down on her ears. Ear scratches are the best! Agh. Focus, Layla. Rio’s words had made an odd noise come out of her small cat body that resembled a laugh, before she hopped down and slipped inside the door once it was open. I promise I’ll make this up to you, Orion. I don’t know how, but I will. She wasn’t entirely sure how this was going to work, but as she entered the store, she set her eyes upward, looking around for Cordy. At least with Rio there, she felt safe. Otherwise, a cat facing a witch alone was going to be a major task.

Welp, there was the bell. Customers. Eugh. Cordy uncrossed her legs and gave her hat a tilt up to properly see who came in. Why was there a kid in here? “We should really just hang up a sign that says Mime E. Stripes is next door. Wrong building, kid.” She went to tilt her hat back down, but she saw a cat tail waltzing across the store. Presumably attached to a cat. Cordy sighed and peeked over the display, looking down at the orange tabby that’d slipped inside. “Look what the you dragged in. That you, Cherry? Think you could use a shave before you try and get back into your jorts.” Cordy snickered and turned her attention back over to the kid. “Lemme guess, belly button stickers? Or are you here for a nice banshee ball gag? There’s been a lotta screaming around town lately.”

There was a lot that Orion was not comfortable with as soon as he stepped inside the store. His best bet at finding Layla was probably just to ask someone. She was memorable, right? He was vaguely aware that the cat had followed him inside and hoped that the cat was some sort of store cat or… y’know he got the joke about a cat being in a sex shop. Clever. He used the palms of his hands to block either side of his vision and made a beeline for the counter. On his way, he bumped against a display of phallic objects and the entire thing shook, Rio reaching out to try to stabilize it before realizing what he had been reaching out for and jerking his hand back. “This is torture.” Rio mumbled to himself, realizing that the woman had already started talking to him and… the cat(?) before he even made it to the counter. “Uh- no. Neither of those things please. I don’t scream.” Rio paused for a minute as he reflected on his choice of words before deciding to pretend that he never said them and continuing on, “I’m looking for a friend of mine. Short. Red hair. A quirky sassiness that makes her lovable? Please tell me that rings some bells.”

Cherry. Cordy knew exactly who Layla was, and as soon as she heard the woman’s voice, she trotted over to the counter and leaped up onto it. Pacing back and forth, she hissed at the witch who had done this to her. Scratching her eyes out wasn’t exactly an option, but making her displeasure known was well within the cat’s rights. You did this, and you’re gonna fix it, Witch! However, Rio’s words caught her attention. Turning to face him, she watched as he nearly knocked over an entire display of penis shaped objects, and the embarrassment present in his voice and actions made Layla realize just how much she was going to owe him, but first she had to somehow let him know it was her. It’s me, Rio! I’m right here! Meowing and pawing at him, she had hoped he would figure it out.

Oh, this was gonna be fun. Cordy’s mouth stretched into a wide smile as she watched the teenager tumble around the store like a child lost in a shopping mall. “Torture? Nah. Those are dildos. If you want torture, it’s in the last aisle to the left,” Cordy said, pointing with her thumb. He didn’t strike her as the type, but maybe Annabel would’ve seen something in him that she was missing. “Wasn’t saying you were the screamer, but I think anyone could scream with the right persuasion.” She winked at him, just to watch him squirm. His description rang some bells alright, and Cordy had to wonder if the kid had any idea that the cat that’d hopped up on the counter was probably the friend he was looking for. “No redheads in here,” Cordy said, straightening up the display case of penis candy that the cat swatted at. She shot Layla a glare and turned her attention back to the blue-haired teenager. She needed to get him outta here before he caught on. “Anyways, haven’t seen your friend. And don’t mind the store cat. She acts out whenever a virgin walks in.”

This was Orion’s nightmare. Worse than his nightmares actually. At least in those he was just being chased by monsters and killed or something. This was way worse than that. “Oh. Ha ha. Yes. Right.” He didn’t even know which part of the worker’s sentence he was replying to. The cat was meowing and pawing at him again, and Rio scratched at the cat again absentmindedly. “Hey kitty,” he spoke aloud but was more focused on the worker and hopefully on finding Layla. Unfortunately, there was no such luck. Either she was running late, or Rio had gotten the wrong address. He was pretty sure he preferred the latter, actually. Maybe he should try calling her again and- Did that employee just call him a virgin?? Rio immediately broke into a stream of nervous giggling at the accusation. It was true, but was it really that obvious? “Your cat can’t actually do that can she?” Rio looked down at the cat again. That had to have been a joke, right? Unless it was some sort of magic not cat. No, it was a joke. “That was a joke. I realize that now. Um.. okay. Well I guess I will just sorta… wait for her to get here then.” The cat wouldn’t seem to leave him alone, “Your cat seems to really like me.”

Are you shitting me? Rio! It’s me!!! It’s Layla!!! She meowed louder as she listened to the two humans in the room talk. How was she going to make him know it was her? Looking back at Cordy, she knew she would have to somehow get the woman to show her cards. She could easily convince Rio that Layla was just the store cat, and in knowing that (and seeing it working), she opted to do something really stupid. Well, hopefully this will make some kind of difference. Otherwise, dying as a cat might actually happen...Giving a nudge into Rio’s hand one last time, Layla turned around, and without any warning, she took off running towards Cordy. With her claws out, she launched herself off the counter and onto the woman’s face and shoulders. Hissing and yowling, she sank her teeth down into Cordy’s head. Would a store cat do this you evil witch!?

“She can, actually!” Cordy chirped, the lie coming easy and guilt-free, “No joke, don’t know how she does it. Maybe it’s like those cats who predict when people are gonna die, except so much better.” All the blood had drained from the kid’s face, and Cordy chuckled. It didn’t matter that Layla was capturing his attention; the cat had no way to communicate. So why not have some more fun? Cordy tilted her head and crossed her arms. “You know, if you don’t believe me, you could always test it out. Go find yourself a pitcher and come back later. Besides, not like your friend is here right n--” The sharp ball of furry fury pounced on her head before she could stop it. Cordy shrieked as she felt sharp claws digging and teeth digging into her scalp. Magic, dumbass, use magic. But that was the drawback of tapping into concentration and meditation for her abilities -- there was no concentration to be found right now. Gaia, her ma would’ve just blasted the damn feline off her skull. “Get off! Get off right now! Don’t make me turn you into a toad next!”

Orion remained suspicious, but this was White Crest. For all Rio knew this could be some weird sort of fae or like a magical, cursed cat. It didn’t seem entirely outside the realm of impossibility. Rio was so perplexed by the cat that he didn’t even have time to be offended by this worker clearly making fun of his virginity. He knew it was obvious that he was but still. Rude. “Intriguing.” Rio murmured; eyes trained on the cat still. It was better than looking at anything else in the store right now. “I uh- a what?” Rio questioned, thinking through the limited knowledge he had of sports, “Uhh… I don’t play baseball.” He never got any clarification however, since the cat leapt at the woman’s face and attacked her. “Oh my god!” Rio yelled, immediately going into panicking mode. He started to move towards the woman but stopped when he heard her. Turn you into a toad next? Rio froze, staring at the scene unfolding between him as the puzzle pieces slowly fit into place in his brain, “Holy- Layla??” Rio called out to the cat. What the heck was going on? Why was Layla a cat? “Did you turn my friend into a cat?”

The small, orange cat continued her plot of revenge hoping it would pay off, and when she was able to train her eyes on Rio and see the gears turning, she knew it was working. It had also felt good to sink her teeth into the head of someone so spiteful and without letting go, she began gnawing on the tight skin and hair, releasing a low growl in the process. But when Rio spoke her name, she released Cordy’s noggin and looked up. Yes!!! It’s me! It’s me, Rio!!! She did turn me into a cat! Help me!!! All she had wanted to be was a human again. Though seeing the world through cat eyes made her look at life differently, it was becoming way too easy to forget details about her human and werewolf life, and that could only mean one thing. That if Layla wasn’t freed from the curse soon, she would be a cat forever.

“The cat’s name is Fleabag!” Cordy yelled, as Layla teeth sank into her skin again. Ow, maybe she really should’ve turned this girl into a toad instead. Both virgin and feline were persistent though, and she knew it was too late to truly convince him the cat wasn’t Layla. One of the cat’s claws pierced her cheek, and she’d had enough. She pushed through the pain and closed her eyes, picturing a barrier surrounding herself, it didn’t have to be strong. Maybe Annabel had been right about that sanctorum spell being a good idea. She clapped her hands, a weak, invisible barrier wrapping around her, and Layla the cat went flying onto the counter, repelled by it. “Try that again, Layla, and I’ll have animal control come and euthanize you,” Cordy said through gritted teeth. Okay, so maybe that’d be harsh even for her, but-- she pushed her hat back onto her bleeding scalp and head of messy hair. “Not like I pulled your fur.” She crossed her arms and glared at the cat and the boy. “It’s permanent, anyways, so guess you’re outta luck. Find something else to do today.” It was a lie, and Cordy couldn’t help but look past the leprechaun-print thongs, over to the double-headed dildo imbued with magic.

Apparently, this woman was a liar. Which was rude given how awkward she was making things for Orion, but downright cruel when considering that she knew that Layla was a cat and deliberately hadn’t told him about it. Had she been the one to turn her into the cat? How was turning a human, er- werewolf into a cat even possible? It only made magic even more terrifying. But the woman’s magical abilities became apparent when something sent Layla flying off her and back onto the counter. Rio jerked backwards at first, afraid from the sudden change but then took a step forward, “Hey!” Rio called out in an attempt to sound more threatening than they all knew he was, “Be careful. Don’t hurt her!” The woman claimed it was permanent, but Rio knew better than to trust the woman now. She glanced away from Rio and Rio followed her gaze towards to try to get an idea where she had been looking. Rio began walking over towards it, trying to ignore the fact that he was staring at an alarmingly large display of dildos. But he had no idea what he was looking for. “How do I fix this?” Rio spun back around to look at her, a scowl deepening on his face. He didn’t like the idea of trying to threaten her. He knew he wouldn’t be any good at it. The only idea he had in his mind was appealing to her less than motivated side. His only chance of getting any information from her was to try to appeal to something she may not want to deal with. Rio picked the spot closest to where he thought she had been looking and picked up one of the packages. He didn’t even want to look at the thing that he was holding, but in one move he ripped the packaging in half and tore the dildo into two. Nothing happened, so he figured he hadn’t gotten lucky on the first try. “Just tell me please. I don’t want to do this anymore than you want to clean up the mess.” Rio discarded the trash he had been holding and grabbed onto the display carrying an assortment of… he had no idea what those ball shaped things were. But he twisted his wrist, snapping the wood frame of the shelving and sending the objects down and scattering the floor. “I just want my friend back.”

Getting flung back onto the counter had knocked the wind out of Layla, but before long, she was back up on her feet. Shaking off the trip through the air, she snarled at Cordy, until she noticed what the woman’s eyes were staring at. Turning her head, she spotted it. The huge double headed cockasaurces that had smacked her in the face and started all this mess. And she also watched as Rio made his way over to the display and shelving and began breaking dildos. Awwww, Rio. You’re breaking dildos for me. That’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done. Realizing they would be there all night, considering Pandora’s Boxxx had an alarmingly large number of dildos available, Layla hopped off the counter and trotted over to the products. Looking up at Rio, she meowed, before standing up on her hind legs and swatting at the dreaded cursed item. This one! This is the one that made me like...this!

The employee was not being helpful in the slightest. Orion crossed his arms in a pout and considered his next options. He had reached the max capacity of being threatening to no avail, she still refused to give him any hints as to where to find whatever he was looking for. Until Layla jumped down from the counter and found Rio, swerving between the pile collecting on the floor and climbing up until she was swatting at an uncomfortably large phallic symbol that Rio had not yet gotten to. After all this, and Layla knew which one it had been the entire time? “Uh, oh? You knew? Yikes. Sorry abou-” Rio scratched at his neck nervously and began apologizing towards the woman behind the counter before stopping himself, “Wait! Never mind. You’re mean. So I’m not sorry.” As far as Rio was concerned, that was a win in his book. “So, I just break it?” Rio questioned, grabbing at it nervously and feeling strange holding it in his hands. He waited for confirmation before he squeezed his eyes shut and ripped the thing in half.

Layla watched Rio. Why are you still apologizing to the witch!? She was relieved when he had come to his senses though. But what brought her more relief, and in the most awkward of ways? Orion holding the huge hulking dildo that had gotten her in this situation in the first place. Break it! Break the dick!!! Layla watched longingly as Rio snapped the double headed cockasaurces in half. The pop had been one of the best sounds she had heard in a long time. However, once it was separated, nothing seemed to be happening; at least not quickly. And then it hit. A sharp pain had caused a shrill, loud yowl to escape her small snout. Panting fiercely, Layla stumbled forward. Everything hurt. Her small body was burning up, and she felt much like how she did after changing on a full moon. With little legs carrying her away from Rio and towards the back of the store, the teenager lost her balance before everything seemed to go black. And when her eyes opened again everything felt...different.

Her eyes betrayed her. She knew the kid saw exactly what she was looking at. Too much movement would break her barrier spell, and Cordy didn’t want to risk getting mauled by a pissed off cat again. Although... even that was probably better than getting mauled by a werewolf. Would that make her one, too? Shit, that werewolf-cat bit her scalp. Did that mean she was about to become a werewolf? Or a cat? Or-- the thought of losing her magic made her freeze, and she stood there in terror as the boy followed the cat over to the dildo. What if it wasn’t too late? She’d taken too long to make up her mind -- the dildo was in his hands and-- “Stop!” Cordy shouted, leaping over the counter. She could feel the barrier shattering around her skin, but that didn’t matter right now. She was not about to let them break her merchandise and, in the event, that she wasn’t already fucked over and going to grow fur on the next full moon, she needed Layla to stay a cat. “That’s a custom item! You can’t break it! The nymphs will--” The popping noise filled the store, and Cordy could feel the magic spilling out of the dildo in a stream, and as the cat screeched and scampered away, she knew the spell was breaking. “I’m boned, aren’t I?” If these children weren’t about to murder her, then Annabel certainly would.

As soon as the dildo was broken, Orion dropped the pieces on the floor and hopped away from it. He had touched more phallic objects in the last twenty minutes than he had in his entire life. More than he ever imagined that he would touch in his whole lifetime. Layla ran off to the back of the store, and Rio thought about following her but eventually decided against it. He had no idea how she would return to human form. The whole thing seemed too intimate for Rio to be a part of. As if this entire situation weren’t far more intimate than Rio had ever wanted. “Is that a sex thing too?” Rio questioned before sighing. It was totally a sex thing. “I don’t understand what you could possibly get from turning my friend into a cat. Was it just some sick joke to you?” Rio scoffed, the mere thought of someone finding something like that funny made Rio nauseous. “You’re messed up.” He crossed his arms, unsure where they went from here. He couldn’t exactly call the cops on her. What would he even tell them? “Layla?” Rio yelled back, sure that if she was a werewolf again that she could hear him. If she could talk, he’d hear her too. If his hearing wanted to cooperate. “You okay back there?” He didn’t want to take his eyes off of the salesperson. He didn’t trust her.

Layla sat up rubbing her head...with her hand? Looking down she noticed she had two hands. Two legs! Two feet and no orange fur!!! Climbing to her feet in excitement, she began to move forward, but stumbled slightly, “Whoa! Wait...I said whoa! I spoke! I can speak!!!” Hearing Rio call for her, the teenager ran back out into the store frantically, “Rio! Rio, I’m me again! I’m not a cat!!!!” Running towards him with tears of joy, she wrapped her arms around him jumping up and down, until she realized one thing, she was stark naked, “Oh God. I don’t...I’m…” Pulling away from him, Layla’s cheeks revealed to be as red as her hair. Scanning the area, she grabbed the closest thing she could to cover herself up, which happened to be a pair of assless jorts while her arms lay across her chest, “Oh c’mon!”

#para: sex toys don't make good cat toys #3starsquinn #para: cordy #saga: a little catty

9 notes · View notes

formlessvoidbeast · 5 years

Text

@carnagekiid requested: college age coffee shop au with Mako as the part time barista/grad student and Jamie as an exhausted mechanical engineer major?

Coffee shop/school AU’s are super outside my wheelhouse, but I tried.

(If you made a roadrat exchange present, but did not receive one, please send me proof and a prompt and I will write a ficlet for you! I am not involved with the running of the exchange, but I’m here, and I have time, tea, and typy fingers. Everyone who did their part deserves a gift!)

Mako didn't envy the full-time students.

Going through grad school part-time suited him much better. He kept his cool, did things at his own pace. He'd get there eventually, but he was in no rush. His work/school balance was just right, as far as he was concerned.

Service industry work could be hellish, but for some reason customers tended to be scrupulously polite when Mako was staring down at them. The cafe was a cute place, and working there wasn't bad. He liked that he could look out for the other baristas, too, and the owners would back him up if he had to eject a bad customer. Work was grounding, and the coffee shop being so close to campus meant he got to see all the madness of college life without being sucked into it.

Take the boy who always gave his name as "Junkrat". He was known to blow through the shop at strange times in a flurry of manic energy. He took the biggest, sweetest, most caffeinated drinks, flirted outrageously with Mako, and sprang away again. He was skinny enough Mako suspected most of his caloric intake was the coffee.

He never stopped moving. Always bouncing around on his mismatched legs. Always fidgeting with his mismatched hands. Wild flame-orange eyes always a little too wide, words a little too fast. Just looking at him was exhausting. He tipped decently, though, and, well... it was kind of nice to be called 'angel' and 'handsome' and 'gorgeous'. So Mako was a little bit fond of Junkrat, even if watching him reminded him exactly why full time college was a bad idea.

Mako might have watched Junkrat more than other customers. At first because his long pale body was only ever clothed in slightly too few clothes to be decent, and there was nothing wrong with admiring the view. As the semester wound up to finals week, everyone was more stressed. The coffee shop was overloaded with miserable students purchasing inadvisable amounts of caffeine, and everyone was on edge in class. In the middle of it, Junkrat seemed the same as ever—on the surface. Mako could see the frantic edge to Junkrat's mania, though, the deepening circles under his vivid eyes, the droop of exhaustion those rare moments he was still.

Everyone was pushed to the edge. Junkrat wasn't the only one. Mako just worried about him though. Wasn't much he could do for him, as just his barista. He had his hands full with work, classes, and the students he actually TA'd for.

He tried to talk to him, in the brief moments he was coming through the line. Not that talking was his strong suit.

"New arm," he noticed. He figured, if Junkrat didn't want it mentioned, maybe it wouldn't be such an eye-seering orange and yellow. It had an x-eyed smiley face sticker on it. "Cute."

"Yeahyeah, haha," Junkrat grinned up at Mako, but his whole body was faintly trembling. "Final project. It's... it's coming along. Yeah. It's fine. Great. Wear testing. Probably needs more work but... Yeah, it's fine. It'll be fine."

Mako held his hand out. Junkrat stared at it, tittering.

"Shake?" Mako prompted.

"Oh! Right, mate. Shaking hands. People do that." He shoved his hand into Mako's, and Mako shook it. The hand felt like metal, but it gripped with approximately average strength, and none of the joints pinched.

Mako released him, and gave him a thumbs up, which Junkrat immediately returned. "Seems good," Mako said, and handed Junkrat his receipt and drink.

Junkrat puffed up with pride, eyes shining. "Good! It is good, innit?" He grabbed his oversized drink, saluted Mako with it, cursed when some of it slopped out onto his shiny new hand, and was gone out the door.

In tiny interactions, Mako tried to brighten Junkrat's days. He wasn't sure how successful he was. He was glad when finals were over, and winter break started. Campus cleared out, the coffee shop only needed a single barista on duty, and Mako could mostly work on grading papers for the classes he was TA for instead of running off his feet for hours.

He wasn't expecting it when Junkrat showed up. He got only a small mocha, called Mako 'the beautiful angel of caffeine, giver of the life-giving elixir', said 'I love you' when given his drink like a man who hadn't slept in several days and didn't realize what their mouth was saying, and then curled up in one of the cozy armchairs instead of bouncing away.

Within minutes, he was snoring. He was far from the first student to ever fall asleep in the coffee shop, but he was the last one Mako would have ever expected it of. Junkrat snored exuberantly and loudly. It was oddly endearing.

Mako smiled to himself as he went back to his grading.

Normally Mako would have woken someone up after a little while, but he couldn't quite bring himself to wake Junkrat. It wasn't like there were any other customers for him to be disturbing, anyway. Mako let him rest, an ungainly heap of limbs sprawled in the corner, until closing time.

"Junkrat." Mako shook his shoulder, and he woke with a snort and mild flailing. He blinked uncomprehending up at Mako. "Closing time." Mako told him.

"Oh, right. Right." Junkrat stood and stretched, arching and cracking his back. He rubbed his face and looked toward the clock. "Shit! Fuck! Missed my carpool! Gotta take the fucking shitty buses and take three times as long..."

"I'll drive you," Mako said, and then closed his mouth, because he hadn't expected to say that out loud.

"Really, mate?" Junkrat beamed at him. "All right! I knew I liked you!"

Mako didn't regret it. He gestured him to follow with a turn of his head, and led Junkrat through the staff room, grabbing his jacket on the way.

"I'm not to far, but I'll pay gas money. What kind of car is..." Junkrat broke off with a gasp when he saw Mako's vehicle. "...not a car. Hooley Dooley would you look at that hog! Second sexiest thing I've seen all day!"

"Only second?" Mako pulled his leather jacket on, and pulled the studded riding gloves out of his pockets. He was almost insulted. His bike was probably the best thing he owned.

"Third." Junkrat's voice was small and strangled. "After you, earlier, and you right now mate I didn't know you could get any sexier!?"

Mako laughed, warmth blooming through him. They weren't customer and service worker any more. They were outside their usual context, and now anything was possible. He quite liked where the possibilities might lead.

He settled astride the bike, patted the space behind him. "Ready, Junkrat?"

"It's... it's Jamie, actually," Junkrat said, as he climbed behind Mako. "It was just a silly nickname because I wanted you to think I was cool and different and remember me? Hahaha?"

"All right, Jamie." Mako grabbed Jamie's hand, which was delicately resting on his side, and pulled it so he was much closer to Mako's back. "Hold tight." He bared his teeth, reving the engine. "You're about to learn why they call me 'Roadhog'."

#roadrat #junkrat #roadhog #college au #coffee shop au #flirting #cute #roadrat exchange #carnagekiid

99 notes · View notes

fictional-worlds-are-exquisite · 5 years

Note

For the weird asks: 25, 28, and 11 💕💕

Thank you for giving me something to do anon!! love you!!Okay so

25. what’s your favorite story to tell people?

I love telling people stories constantly! I’ll always come home like okay so today at work, today when I was walking down the street I saw, today when I went to buy- like! I love telling stories if people want to listen so picking a favourite is so hard. It really depends on the context of the conversation what I’ll say. Oh okay so the biggest ones are why I’m scared of dogs-a nightmare involving a dog that I thought was a real event for like 10 years. That time when I was five and stood on a wineglass and it broke and I got glass in my foot and I was bleeding but I didn’t want to tell my parents because I thought they’d be mad (they were only mad at themselves for letting that happen lmao young me). That time when a guy stole my bouncy ball when I was like 10 and I asked my teacher for a frying pan and they asked why and I said I wanted to chase the boy with it (explaining what he did) and my teacher said sure and gave me a red one from the staff room and my friends and I chased the boy with it (okay I probably tell this one the most but it’s also like can I tell you this bc it’s borderline crazy).

One I don’t tell much but love is that time I got stuck in a school toilet at highschool (idk what they’re called, cubicle? whatever) bc the lock jammed so I climbed over the top and when I sat on top one of my friends waiting for me caught sight of me and started pissing herself laughing and pointed me out to my other friend and I started pissing myself laughing on top of this toilet door (no one else was in the bathroom and no not pissing literally despite the location) and it took me awhile to stop laughing before I could climb down the other side. That toilet was locked for weeks. Okay those are some favourites that come to mind (I’m probably forgetting a big favourite but! I have a bad memory)! I can’t choose just one bc idk!!

28. what’s your morning routine?

Bold of you to assume I have a routine. Okay I don’t really when I’m on break, I’ll just wake up at whatever time unless I need to be somewhere. Then I’ll lounge in bed, maybe scroll social media, EVENTUALLY I’ll get up and grab my reflux medication which I mention bc once I take it I have to wait 30 minutes before I can eat. Then I’ll lounge around for another 30 minutes, eat breakfast, brush teeth and you know, maybe get dressed if I have to be somewhere that day. That’s. That’s it. Before I finished highschool for the year though it was wake up at seven, take meds, eat breakfast, brush teeth, get dressed, maybe brush hair if I remember (I don’t really need to), clean glasses and head to school at 8:30. Essentially my morning routine is basic as hell, there is genuinely nothing I’ve left out and it probably can’t be considered a routine. But I like to keep things as simple as possible bc I am not a morning person.

11. what posters, pictures, etc do you have hanging on your wall?

OKAY let me work through this.

I have a few quotes or sayings or idk words!! I keep on the walls in my room, mostly because I went through a quote phase but they aren’t all bad. Above the door: Because when you stop and look around, this life is pretty AMAZING. Above the bed: Sometimes I pretend to be normal but it gets boring so I go back to being me. I have windows that cover a corner of my room sort of and there’s a strip of wall, out a bit that just hangs down from the ceiling on two sides. It’s small but big enough for little boards of quotes or whatever. There’s my daily routine: Get up. Be amazing. Go back to bed. And, True wisdom lies in gathering the precious things out of each day. And, I would be unstoppable if I could just get started! And, Love is the new black. And, Less is more (more or less). And, Do what you love every day. Then there’s one last one above my desk: Life always offers you a second chance, it’s called tomorrow. OKAY THOSE ARE THE QUOTES.

Other than that I have two paintings I did, no I can’t paint I just had to take art one year at school. One’s a landscape of the sea meeting the sky with two sort of black rocks/bits of land in the sea. The whole thing is very blue, the sky is shitty but I like the ocean. Another is…well there’s a hill and the sky with clouds and on the hill at the top is an orange blob (with many curves) shouting BOO, grinning. At the bottom there’s a yellow blob (again, with many curves), looking like they got frightened. I’m actually quite fond of that one ngl.

There’s four pictures of cats, three are mine one is something from the internet idk it’s been there since I was like 5. Two of them feature me next to the cat (these were past cats) and one is my current cat without me. Three go down a wall one below the other and at the bottom there’s a cat calendar huh on November I need to fix that. There’s a massive picture of taylor swift from ? I think her red era. Idk we brought the CD and the lady at the warehouse gave us a free poster and i was like cool i’m putting it here i want to be one of those people who has celebrities on their wall! yeah no that’s the only one i ever had. The first artist I sort of listened to by choice (aka not my parents music) was TS and I did used to be a big fan when I was younger.

There’s a picture of lightning striking the Sky Tower, I always thought it was the Auckland Sky Tower but? I’m actually not so sure looking at it now. Anyway that photo used to scare the shit out of me as a kid. There’s a periodic table bc I’m a nerd. There’s a big doctor who poster behind my bed that has the tardis shape with the inside saying ‘people assume that time is a strict progression of cause to effect but actually from a non-linear, non subjective viewpoint. It’s more like a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff.’ course it’s set out in a cool way though. Other than that there’s a whiteboard and a mirror on the wall but yeah I think I covered everything. Well there’s a small area of Ag day ribbons and a certificate from my participation in a kindy ‘trikeathon’ and various hanging things but! they’re little details! this is already too long!

I like my room because it reflects a lot of my progression. I mean there’s stuff from me now and stuff from when I was a baby (I have one flower sticker on my wall, there used to be heaps of pooh bear stickers and flowers and that’s the only remaining one but still!) and everything inbetween. Like maybe I don’t like this anymore but past me did and it makes me remember me at that point so it’s staying. It’s a little reflection of my life.

Anyway thank you anon! sorry this is so long I blame my room

#i talk a lot #my bad

2 notes · View notes

the-gay-in-the-way · 6 years

Text

A Thread of Doubt

(Okay, so this is something that I felt kind of compelled to write while I was working on the third part of The Great Boop War of 2018. Reason being that it kind of adds on some extra context to some of the stuff that happens in there.)

(So I figured I’d just go ahead and make this beforehand while the iron was still hot and the ideas were fresh in my mind.)

(You can see this as a stand alone or a spin-off or whatever, but the basic thing you need to know is that it takes place in the same universe as the Boop War, the Utensil War, and Why be Sad When You Can be Even Sadder.)

(It all coincides together and you can read all of them to get some extra context and little references in each one that comes from a different one.)

(Also, there’s a particular line in here that I have Virgil use and it comes from this person right here and their really interesting idea that inspired another really cool person to create an awesome fanfic on Ao3 called Persona that I very much recommend.)

(Also, also, there are a couple of songs I reference in this that I recommend you just generally check out. They’re pretty cool, in my opinion.)

(Myth me-Chilly Gonzales, Roundtable Rival-Lindsey Stirling)

(Anyways, let’s get on with this. Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoy the story.)

Deceit had been helping Patton with the dishes one morning when the moral side had suddenly asked him if he’d like to watch Virgil work that day.

Deceit hadn’t been entirely sure why they were going to watch Virgil work, of all things, but he had been intrigued enough by the question and Patton’s enthusiasm that it hadn’t taken much convincing to make him come along.

And so, Deceit soon found himself standing beside a visibly excited Morality as they both stood inside of Virgil’s bedroom.

“So, do you know where the entrance is? Or are we waiting for Virgil now?”

(Technically, you don’t have to read this part. But I recommend that you do so that you can understand the universe as a whole a little better. It’s what I’m gonna be using in most of my stories so...)

(You know, just as a warning. Read or don’t, it’s your choice. There will be another line and a set of these parenthesized comments where the detailed exposition ends and the rest of the story continues.)

All sides had a particular “Realm” within the Mindscape they were individually in charge of. Each Realm was attached to the main House/Hub by a specific entrance within each side’s bedroom. The entrance would then lead to a mirrored version of the bedroom and house within the other Realm. And, when you exited the house, you would enter the actual bulk of the Realm itself.

Logan’s Realm was the Memory Library(where all of the subjects, books, movies, music, roles, and lessons Thomas had ever learned/experienced before were kept) and the entrance was behind a secret bookcase door that could only be opened by solving a particular puzzle within the room that Logan changed once every week.

Roman’s Realm was the Imagination Plane(where all of Thomas’s ideas and dreams were kept and, for the most part, created) and the entrance tended to change depending on the day. Sometimes it would be through a wardrobe, other times it would be through a magic mirror, and every once and a while it would be through a painting or a book. Finding it was part of the fun, according to Roman.

Deceit’s Realm was the Memory Archives(where all of Thomas’s actual memories were kept and carefully sorted, organized, and maintained) and the entrance was through a fake wall right across from his bedroom’s door.

Patton’s Realm was the Heartscape(where everything Thomas held dear to his heart like his love for his friends, a collection of his most precious memories, his most deep seated beliefs, and almost all of his emotions as a whole were kept and maintained) and the entrance was through a simple door covered in pictures and stickers and little splashes of paint over in the corner of Patton’s bedroom.

Virgil’s Realm was the Nightmare Plane(where all of Thomas’s fears, doubts, concerns, nightmares, and troubling thoughts were all kept, created, and very carefully maintained) and Deceit didn’t actually know where the entrance was.

(Okay, that’s all the detailed exposition)

(Back to the main story)

Nobody had ever gone to Virgil’s Realm without him or Thomas just sinking them into it, so the other sides weren’t really sure where Virgil’s Realm entrance actually was.

And, whenever someone asked, Virgil would always just say that it was better they not be able to go in on their own anyways.

The Nightmare Plane was a dangerous place, even with Virgil being there to keep them safe.

If they went in without him, nobody was really sure how well that would turn out.

So it was simply one of those things that everyone quietly thought about but never did anything to figure out.

Except, apparently, it wasn’t.

Because Patton was smiling at him and walking towards Virgil’s bed with a confidence that spoke volumes about how much time he spent in the anxious side’s space.

“Virgil showed me where the entrance was a long time ago. And I know where he’s gonna be today, so you can just follow me and I’ll take you where we need to go.”

Deceit blinked in surprise and had to physically keep his jaw from dropping when Patton reached a hand under the overly long sheets of Virgil’s bed, pulled the blankets up and away from the floor, and revealed a very thin black wooden door where the underside of the bed was meant to be.

And then Deceit felt a little like smacking himself.

Of course, the entrance was under the bed.

It was the Nightmare Plane, were else would it be?

Patton grinned at him and waved a hand.

“C’mon, I wanna get there before he starts!”

And, with that said, Patton opened the secret door and slid easily through it.

Then it closed with a startlingly loud slam behind him and Deceit had to take a moment to remind himself that this was Virgil’s Realm Patton had just gone into and the anxious side would never let anything bad happen to them if he could help it.

So, after taking a single long and steadying breath, Deceit made his way to the side of the bed and opened the small door.

It didn’t creak or do anything particularly ominous which surprised him a little.

And it stayed open when he started to slide through it.

It only slammed shut again when he was safely past it.

“There you are! For a second there, I wasn’t sure if you followed me or not.”

Came the muffled voice of Patton from...

Somewhere.

Deceit couldn’t see anything.

Which said a lot considering how good his night-vision usually was.

But he was still on his stomach and, when he raised his head a little, he could still feel the low ceiling/bottom of the bed above him.

Then, suddenly, there was light and it took a moment for Deceit to adjust his eyes enough to clearly see Patton crouched on the floor and looking at him sideways through the thin open door.

“Don’t worry, this is just the bed in Virgil’s other room. So, you can come out now.”

“Oh. Alright then...”

And Deceit shuffled his way out from under the bed, looking around the room with some curiosity once he entered it.

Although Virgil had let them into his Realm a few times in the past, they had never really gone anywhere past the living room before.

The rest of the Realm was far too dangerous, according to Virgil.

“Okay!” Patton said with a firm clap of his hands that made Deceit jump half a foot. “Let’s get going before we miss anything!”

Deceit didn’t bother complaining as he allowed the other side to pull him along.

He simply remained silent and continued to look around the only Realm he’d never really had the chance to explore before.

The main house looked, for the most part, the same.

Just with the additional decorations that tended to vary between each side’s spaces.

The living room, once they reached it, looked as it always did.

Although, there was now the addition of a pile of random pillows and blankets strewn all across the floor.

It looked like a massive pillow fort had attempted to manifest only to somehow miss its mark and just end up collapsed all over the place.

Patton went straight past the mess with only a bit of a fond smile thrown over his shoulder as any sort of acknowledgment.

Deceit kind of wanted to ask about it but didn’t get the chance when Patton reached the front door and swiftly pulled it open.

And Deceit felt chills run down his spine as he and Morality entered the true Nightmare Plane and all that that would entail.

Patton didn’t hesitate when a strong gust of wind pushed at them threw the door and only laughed in delight as he stepped easily through, his hand still pulling Deceit along behind him.

For a moment, Deceit was too afraid of what he’d see to look away from the other side’s back.

But then he started to hear the sounds of something that surprised him.

Crickets chirping.

A breeze gently rushing through leaves.

Water flowing from somewhere nearby.

So, hesitantly, Deceit looked up.

And was met with a sight that he would easily call one of the most beautiful things he had ever seen.

Outside of the house was a large circular clearing, surrounded by trees.

Within the clearing was a medium-sized pond attached to a waterfall that came from a river leading into the shadows of the surrounding forest.

Next to it was an absolutely massive willow tree with little glowing purple lights gently floating around its swaying limbs.

Small, almost glowing, white flowers dotted the grass like little fallen stars.

And above it all, was a breathtaking view of the sky.

The moon was large and full, surrounded by too many stars to count in a swirling mass of color like Deceit had never seen in anything other than Logan’s pictures of far off galaxies.

Gentle golds and oranges mixed with vibrant blues and purples.

The stars made patterns like no real constellation ever could.

“It’s nice, right?”

Deceit looked quickly back down at the one standing beside him, and realized with a start that they had stopped walking at the edge of the pond.

He took a quick glance and saw that the water was so clear and still that he could see the sky reflected within it.

It was like standing beside a tiny galaxy.

“No.” He breathed. “It’s horrible.”

Then there was the sound of a familiar laugh and Deceit looked up to the willow tree nearby.

“So shocked you lied, huh? I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Virgil walked through an opening in the limbs created by, seemingly, the limbs simply moving themselves for him.

He looked as he always did, though he did seem slightly more relaxed than usual.

Even his eyeshadow seemed just a tad softer than normal.

“You shouldn’t. I can think of something better to express my shock.”

The anxious side let out a small snort in return as he finally reached the two and came to a stop beside Patton.

He let out a rather long-suffering sigh and directed a baleful glance at the other.

“Hey, Pat. I didn’t realize you were gonna be bringing someone with you today. If I’d known I would’ve made this place a bit spookier or something.” Virgil said with a shrug before bringing a hand up to rub at his neck a little awkwardly. “I’ve got an image to maintain, y’know.”

And Deceit felt the smallest of twinges within his chest.

He understood Virgil’s mindset quite well.

“Nobody cares if you’re scared.” He’d once said to him after a rather heated debate between the sides had ended with Virgil using his voice and control over shadows to intimidate them all into listening to him. “They care if you’re scary.”

Virgil could easily be seen as one of the most caring of the sides.

Both for Thomas and the others.

But he always seemed so dark and mysterious and scary.

That it had been hard to notice before.

Though, that time was passed now.

And they were all famILY.

So Virgil didn’t need to be scary anymore.

This was something that Patton, and now Deceit, wanted to prove to him.

That was, after all, why Patton had brought Deceit with him in the first place.

He’d been trying to find good opportunities to bring the others in and show them around without Virgil being able to stop him beforehand.

And that opportunity was now, so he was going to milk it for all it was worth.

Patton grinned widely at his best friend and released Deceit’s hand before leaping forward and giggling when Virgil instantly caught him.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Virgil. You’re already beautiful in my book, so I don’t know how making this place look any different would make your image change.”

Deceit smiled behind his hand as Virgil’s face turned a very pale shade of pink.

“You’re doing this on purpose aren’t you. I swear you’re the worst, Pat.”

The anxious side’s grumbles were only met with more giggling and some quiet snickers from the peanut gallery.

Then he sighed in a way that sounded, incredibly, even more long-suffering than before.

“Alright, I get it. You’re making a point and trying to reveal my soft and squishy underbelly to the others. That’s fine and all but I actually do need to get some work done today. Thomas is having a good time with his friends so I’d rather take care of it now than worry about it later.”

With the reminder of Virgil’s work, Deceit straightened and Patton let go of the side he’d jumped at to instead face him head on with an excited grin on his face.

“Right! Sorry, yeah, let’s go!”

And Patton ran past Virgil and over to the willow tree, the other sides trailing slowly behind him.

The two stayed silent as they walked but Deceit did give the anxious side a gentle nudge to the arm that was returned with a soft smile.

The gesture spoke volumes, and needed no words to get the intended message across.

When they entered the small enclosed space created by the willow tree’s limbs, Patton was already settled within a little cushioned hollow in the tree’s roots and Deceit took a moment to look around at the floating lights as they idly made their way around the area.

“Alright, get comfortable you two. I’m gonna be at this for a while and I’d really prefer it if you didn’t interrupt anything.”

“Don’t worry! We’ll be good, right Deceit?”

And Deceit nodded as he took a seat in the hollow beside Patton.

“Of course not.”

He didn’t bother making himself tell the truth.

Virgil could tell when he was lying and when he wasn’t.

Indeed, he simply nodded in understanding and took his place standing in front of them.

For a moment, everything seemed to still and take a breath.

Then Virgil took his own breath and sat down on thin air.

Deceit blinked in surprise and watched with no small amount of curiosity as liquid shadows dripped from Virgil’s fingers.

The shadows moved around him and slowly solidified into a piano and a bench.

Then he started to play and Deceit felt something well up in his chest.

And when Virgil started to sing this song that he had never heard before, he felt a little like crying.

“Myth me.”

Patton’s quiet whisper startled him a little and he turned to look at the other side who looked just as affected by the music as he was.

“What?”

Deceit whispered back as quietly as he could.

“The song. It’s called Myth Me. It’s one of my favorites when he works on these threads.”

And that’s when Deceit finally noticed them.

Long, delicate, and glowing white threads filled the air around Virgil like some kind of intricate work of art.

The threads thrummed quietly alongside the music and some seemed to simply loosen and fall apart, disappearing into the air like mist.

“Oh.”

Was all Deceit could think to say in response.

And that was fine.

The two remained silent for a long time after that.

Simply listening to Virgil as he played and sang.

Occasionally, more shadows would seep from his fingers and take on the forms of featureless humanoids that would play other instruments alongside him.

And the threads continued to loosen and fall apart.

Until all that was left were the tautest of strings.

That was when Virgil stood from the piano and took his place beside it.

A violin quickly formed in his hand and the piano, alongside almost all of the shadows around him dissipated into thin air.

Then Virgil started to play.

And the ethereal calm that had filled the clearing moments before was snapped alongside dozens of the threads as Virgil played a song that sent a thrill of excitement and fear through Deceit’s body.

He felt Patton press close to him and listened closely as the side whispered in his ear once again.

“Roundtable Rival. It’s one of the best at breaking lots of threads at once.”

Deceit wasn’t surprised to hear that.

He watched as the strings continued to snap, letting out impossibly loud cracking and booming sounds that matched the music perfectly each time.

Virgil danced around the threads, and the shadows that played beside him, like he was being carried by the music itself.

With each snap of a thread, blindingly bright light flashed across him and only seemed to intensify with his playing.

And Virgil continued to play that song and so many more until most of the threads were gone.

Finally, Virgil stopped, took a deep breath once more, and let all of the shadows and instruments he had summoned disappear into thin air.

Then Deceit jumped almost a full two feet into the air when Patton leaped up and started to clap with a cheer.

“That was amazing, Virgil!”

The anxious side smiled a little crookedly and rubbed his neck again.

“Thanks, Pat.”

And Deceit found himself quickly nodding along as he stood alongside the moral side.

“No, that was terrible. I hated every second of it.”

And Virgil seemed slightly surprised by the praise but smiled genuinely at the both of them.

“Thanks. I’m glad you guys enjoyed yourselves, I guess.”

And Patton rather suddenly squealed before launching himself at Virgil once again.

Virgil, bless his heart, leaped forward and caught the excitable side without hesitation.

“We have to go and get cookies now! You deserve so many cookies! All of the cookies! I love my dark strange son so much! He deserves all of the cookies in the world!”

Deceit chuckled into his hand as Patton continued to ramble while Virgil just silently carried him away from the tree with an expression of utter defeat and quiet embarrassment on his face.

With one final glance back at the beautiful clearing they were leaving behind, Deceit followed the two emotional sides back into the house with a peaceful smile on his face and a slightly altered view on his family’s resident worrywart.

(Here’s a link to the next part of the CAP Series.)

(A Bed of Links:)

Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/Cerillen

Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerillen/pseuds/Cerillen

Youtube: https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCPz4p5XdoRESDKZeMDnWXFQ

Twitch: https://www.twitch.tv/cerillen

Discord: https://discord.gg/FsUhc5f

#virgil sanders #patton sanders #Deceit Sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #sympathetic deceit #moxiety #platonic moxiety #anxeit #platonic anxeit #virgil secretly being ridiculously good at playing all instruments is something that gives me life #also the idea that virgil had to become scary because he needed to make the others listen to him is something that hurts me in the best way #that's probably a really weird thing to say but whatever #also i have so many cool headcanons about the realms in the mindscape #especially virgil's

44 notes · View notes

awed-frog · 6 years

Note

Hey, I was just wondering do you have any thoughts on Barthes, death of the author? And I guess in extension the return of the author? Also slightly related, have you ever read any of Chris Krause's work? I read I love dick and I'm rather conflicted, I don't like the character but then I identify with her? Anyhow all the best x

Okay, so - as a disclaimer, I never had tons of classes in any of this stuff, so I’m hoping what follows makes some sense? If it doesn’t, it’s 100% my fault.

Anyway: the tl;dr is, I hate it with a vengeance and I never use it. On the contrary, it is very central to my life, and as close a certainty as I have on anything, that whatever we consume we should always ask ourselves: who is saying this? And why? And most of all, cui bono?

Oh, and a second disclaimer is that what I’ll allow *waves a generous hand* is that, like many other extreme, rebellious or wacky theories of the 1960s, it was probably Good and About Bloody Time that someone pushed back against the status quo, because some things back then needed to be broken down - but that doesn’t make those movements rational or right in themselves, you know what I mean? What matters is not the wrecking ball, but the new thing you’re planning to build on the ruins.

So - imo there are two big problems with the concept of ‘death of the author’ - one is the theory itself, and the other is how this theory is understood on tumblr and fandoms (from what I see on my dash, that is).

First of all, Barthes basically says that to understand a text, we shouldn’t go and explore its author (their life and other works, the historical context, what they’ve read and talked about with friends and stuff like that) because the author is born with the text, and the text already contains all that it’s necessary to its full understanding; also, the reader will supply the rest, because, in a way, the reader creates the text - and gives it meaning - just as much as the author.

To be perfectly honest, to me that’s downright bullshit. Knowing who the author was and what was happening around them is paramount to understanding what the hell the text is trying to say, you know? For instance, knowing Orwell took part in the Spanish Civil War makes Homage to Catalonia much more poignant, and the fact Burgess went through the exact same ordeal he describes in A Clockwork Orange (his wife was attacked and brutalized by a group of American soldiers in 1944) will change the way you read the book, as it bloody should, and the same is true of literally everything else, in my opinion. For instance, last week we went to see The Greatest Showman, a biopic of P. T. Barnum that’s horribly inaccurate and almost a parody of itself; but knowing full well what the polical climate is like today means I actually sort of liked the movie despite its many faults, because I recognized it as what it wanted to be: a ‘hymn to freakishness’, an exploration of what it means to be different, and that’s exactly what we’re in dire need of.

Now - what is true is that we’ll never be able to pin down exactly ‘what the author intended’, because authors may not know themselves and that’s just the world we live in and the kind of creatures we are. I met writers who’re extremely smart, attentive people completely dedicated to their craft, and all of them said there’s always this moment when some reader goes, I liked how that detail with the dead bird was a direct reference to Clara’s illness or something and it’s a light-bulb moment for them, and I mean - they wrote the damn thing, but still didn’t notice that detail was there and why it was important. It probably just sounded right, because that’s what happens when you’re good at something and do it daily: sometimes things just click and work and you don’t even stop to consider the whys and wherefores. But the fact that we don’t have a complete insight into our own minds doesn’t mean we should give up completely on interpreting art and literature, right? What would be the point of that? Because I always perceived Barthes’ theory as a kind of giving up, myself, a kind of Fuck, Le Grand Robert lists 100K words and I’ll never be able to learn all of them, I might as well stop my French classes, you know? And, like, no? You can speak and understand a language with 500 words - and whatever, your glimpse into that world won’t be perfect (and there’s no such thing as perfect, btw), but still better than nothing, right? So, anyway, I don’t much like this theory in itself.

As to its application to fandom life, well, here is where things get even worse. From what I see on tumblr, people generally think that ‘death of the author’ means their interpretation of what they see is always valid, and also that there is no right or wrong way to understand a story. And this bothers me a lot, because I see it as a direct consequence of a) capitalism doing its best to tailor its products to everyone by leaving out as many details as possible so that, Sure, Luke Skywalker can totally be gay, why not, and here is your Funko pop toy and your stickers and thanks for shopping with us and b) the age-old myth that science, now, that’s a hard and unforgiving discipline where there’s truths and untruths, but in the liberal arts, everyone’s opinion just counts the same (because you don’t need a degree to watch a movie and also the author is dead, so there). But, well - as the people who actually produce the content we enjoy know perfectly well, the author is not dead. There is a message in stories, and there is a right and a wrong way of reading them - if not on all the details, then on the main point of them; and, frankly, it’s weird how on the one hand we celebrate the triumph of this ‘everyone’s opinion is valid’ society we’re building (thus not simply killing the author, but bludgeoning the dead body with a blunt axe) and then on the other we loudly demand a world where artists are ‘unproblematic’ in their private lives (one example: the recent furore over Balthus’ painting in the Met). It looks like truly, this may be the era of the Schrödinger’s Author.

(And let me be clear: of course you’re allowed to like or dislike whatever you want based on your personal experiences and bias, but that’s your opinion, not any kind of truth. Like, a thing I found quite interesting in my personal life was a discussion I had with a woman from New Zealand about Thor: Ragnarok, a movie I mostly hated. One of the reasons for my disappointment in it was how Valkyrie had been represented: to me, her laddish drunkenness represented yet another attempt to insert women in a story while making them behave like men, a trend I profoundly despise. But, as that woman was kind enough to explain to me, from her perspective (and probably Waititi’s, since he’s from New Zealand and has explored the same subject in other movies) Valkyrie’s loss of focus and alcohol problems were there to evoke the plight of the Māori people, who, like other aboriginal communities, were forced into alcoholism and excised from their traditions when the ‘civilizing’ might of the the White Man showed up on their shores. This to say that I still don’t like the movie, but since Waititi was talking to a different audience, and they got the message, I’m wrong and he’s right, because I’m free to have an opinion on anything, but at the end of the day, he’s the goddamn author, alive and kicking.)

As for Chris Kraus, I don’t know her at all. I heard good things about the TV adapation of I love Dick? And as for what you say - fiction often reveals deeper truths about ourselves. I’d say that if you feel close to a character you don’t like, well, that’s a good starting point to understand (and change, or maybe learn to love) what it is that you don’t like about yourself? Anyway - sorry for the novel - I wish you a good afternoon/evening/whatever it is where you are!

17 notes · View notes

tedfashionski · 4 years

Text

What do I have in my pocket?

(A notish review of JW Anderson Men’s Spring 21 and Women’s Resort 21. Am feeling very Fuck Full Sentences atm. I’m sure I’ll get over it :P)

- presented together in a mail art portfolio that juxtaposes a variety of textures, methods and sensations. Inside the box there’s screenprinted spare fabric, swatches, masks, dried flowers, various printed ephemera like postcards, posters, stickers. Like a box of memories. Jonathan speaks in the accompanying video of ‘the art of packing’, of creating characters, the power of reassembling characters, utilitarian design, assemblage, patchwork (of course). He likes the idea of the recipients taking their time with it and finding their own way with it, that it’s a kind of open-ended collage.

(sideways pictures because why not?)

The bundle comes wrapped in a calligraphic message:

“At a time of uneven connections, I thought the show should come to you. The portable format makes it playful, engaging and, well, connective. This is what interests me: the moment, being present. Your presence, wherever you are, is part of the process. The box you are unboxing is an undulating flow of textures, images and formats aiming at one single goal: conveying a sense of optimism. You’ll decide where and when. The future is unwritten.” - Jonathan

Best bits in the press notes:

Presented on fictional characters - enlarged young male personalities - the collection juxtaposes notions of pragmatism and playfulness within a context of cozy domesticity.

Patchworked jockey coats sprout patch pockets as roomy as bags. Sleeves get excessively long, trailing to the floor. Military capes spawn an excess of buttons. Pol Anglada’s blown-up faces. A sentiment of youthful, freewheeling amusement composedly comes to the fore.

Mysterious yet upbeat masks give a totemic presence to the characters

A sense of fluid elongation counterbalances the neatness of sharp tailoring.

Ties, scarves and pompoms add an element of playfulness.

Patchwork of different fabrics and prints that create visual frenzy. A jacket is tied in the front, the volume gathered and then offset of sturdy presence and evanescent languor eerily kept together by Bertjan Pot’s abstract, colorful masks

My takeaways:

Ww1 - bib fronts/envelope pockets, kick out at thigh, strong silhouette. Echoes mens & women’s at-work utilitarian utopian workwear and uniforms - the boredom of routine work and trench warfare. WW1 - whole world falling apart, sitting in a hole, then death in a moment, a moment out of the blue. Extreme contrast of stress and mundanity. Killing time. Capes - downpour, improvised shelter, collapse the distance between war games and pillow forts.

Romantic element - artists’ smocks, angelic, A&Cm - dresses with ‘wings’ say what? - the artist as child, the muse as angel, distant adult gracefullness? 1930s bias dresses - Mother? Work at home, entertaining bored children.

-student portfolio vibes. Posters. Illustration. At home ‘consumption’ - what is being consumed, apart from a cup of coffee? A commercial experience? What does fashion communication look like without that underwriting? Why bother? What is being sold, apart from clothes? The designer as dungeon master.

wallpaper/domesticity, fucked with. Distorted. Psychedelic boating. Staring into space, spaced out, zoned out, daydreaming, exploding mundanity in mindscapes.

Lone trip - not alone. Acid babysitting

Masks, cartoonish proportions, big long head. Sucked into a face. Mother is absent. Boy character sticks out his tongue and entertains himself.

Love the long sleeves - speculation about how fashion will change after mass quarantine: split between growth of athleisure and ‘dress up’ renewal - Anderson proposes a blend. CLothing as entertainment, something to alter ordinary space between body and others and kills time. A game. Stretch armstrong. Pushing the bounds. Breaking the toys. Ripping off Barbie’s head. Bored games.

Patchwork is controlled, severe, scale of pieces like fields, packaged, enclosed commons- envelope sized/coloured, works in the mail art theme subtly, strictness underlined. Infrastructural - organised. Anderson’s allegiance is with the grown ups.

Pom poms echo the dried flowers - ways of entertaining bored children, but they don’t really bring anything. Once you make a pom pom, it’s like, great, what do I do with this? Decorative crafts as children’s entertainment. “Comes in a box” = overly simplified?, motivelessness. Sticking to the hems is :( More play perhaps?

hobby/sport - conscription, duty, contribution, spontaneity

What makes this different from a student portfolio? Nothing really. That’s the power of it.

Cathartic draping - renewal - back to basics. It works to breaks down the distinction between professional/amateur/student, serious and playful, joyful/routine

The anorak - boating, fishing - activities done out of an obsessive focus/niche enthusiasm. Autistic special interest. Obscure/boring/bored. ‘Only boring people get bored’., indifferent to others. ‘FLow’

Orange cards - floral oblique strategies hoping to prompt out of the blue, Lost in a pocket. Absent mindedness. Padded pillow square things - lavender drawer pillows - first craft project.

Childishness - being around kids can make you see reality anew. Both refreshing and exhausting. A child’s eye view - fashion moving towards broadening its spectrum of practice - embracing amatuerishness, experimentalism, unprofitable play. Then, just shrink back to its narrow palette of profitability when ‘normality’ resumes? No more normal. Schools out, forever. Low-budget, small scale is more sustainable and attainable - too many looks, business to maintain, yes, but the designs are so focussed, ten piece collections would have been a stronger way to do storytelling. It’s hard to take in a story in 40+. Feels bingeish in a very 20-teens way. GOT vs irl angling - absence, stretched timing, online presentation could have done with some work. Focused engagement for the 2020s.. looksA little too slick, too much pr - where the subject is homespun, rainy day hobbyism, where is the dark, twisty itch of existential ADD, avoidance - keeping busy, distract from what? The women’s masks, illustrations and /long sleeves hint at this and are really successful, would have liked to see more - orange/red/yellows are an interior flame, a glint at cabin fever and impatience for change and escape.

0 notes

peachnymphuniverse · 6 years

Quote

little things i love/love to do -smell my fingers after peeling an orange -sit on my roof late at night -playing uke under the porch while it rains -opening my windows when it’s chilly and bundle up -slide around in fuzzy socks while my dog chases me -paint my nails and take it off around ten minutes later -when my ukulele strings leave dents in my newly painted nails -listen to my broken record player so that the song registers in my head as a little off key -journal about people’s smiles -in airports i walk around and smile at everyone and get sad if they don’t smile in response (sometimes i double back and repeat the process until they do) -talk to people i’ve just met in the way i wish i did to the people i’ve known -make cookies and dance in the kitchen -close my eyes and guess what flavor jelly bean i get -buy razzles and read in the merc -new sheets -freshly cleaned hair -playing with short (relatively guy) hair -making tea after a rough day -nailing a song first try -sweaters from thrift stores -the feeling when a stranger is nice to me -cheeks hurting from laughing so hard -sporadic adrenaline and finally doing the thing -almond milk over ice -this one gray and pink plate my mom got -mismatching soft patterns on my bed -cuddles with pets (or humans on a good day) -the warmth that occurs when someone calls me beautiful -shiny hair -writing a good song that makes you feel something -piling blankets and pillows in a corner and reading -my mom asking me if i’m happy everyday (and legitimately caring about the answer) -any type of garnier hair product (smells hella good) -the use of the word heck in any context -flowers and flower tattoos -when my sister compliments me (its like the highest form of praise in my life) -the temperature tea is at when it’s hot enough to warm your whole body but not too hot that it burns -tea that has too much honey -hummingbirds in general -my dads laugh -seeing people kiss (not in a creepy way i just really enjoy love) -guys in sweaters and pastel colors -incense from rockin rudy’s -new pj’s -my cat -the sting of hot showers -speaking native languages -people who take random pictures of me -kale salad -dresses that make me look coot -the smell of burning paper -hugs -soup -people who give me their hoodies -making jokes during movies -folded chips -the farmers market when it rains -people with warm hands -people with cold hands -people (ik i say otherwise but people are actually v wonderful sometimes) -cinnamon on hot cocoa -finding a song that relates to your life -stars -blue eyes -baths with music and tea -wearing my stepdads sweaters -making a really nice house in sims -nice teachers @franzen @elder -people with nice eyebrows #envy -buying people coffee -going downtown alone for a few hours and not talking while reading or drinking tea -airports -beaches (the smell mostly) -vanilla perfume -waking up when the blankets are still perfectly in place -when i’m wearing shorts and my warm kitty curls up on my bare legs -layers (button down, sweater, jean jacket) -pretzels with peanut butter -yellow -new socks -citrus smelling stuff -dark chocolate -old cameras -rose and mint flavored lip balm -tiger lilies and sunflowers -when my hair is damp and my head gets it warm -rupi kaur -new watercolors -thrift store vinyls -mike and eleven -knee high socks -overalls -big flannels + jean jackets -popcorn with chulula -drive around in my moms convertible -japanese cherry blossoms -going to the library with @anna everyday -finding a new song and listening to it till you know each word -rain (the smell) -crunching leaves -the stars at 2am -using my kitty as a pillow when she’s curled up -playing the piano (badly) -white curtains -photo booths -nice handwriting -earrings -being under a bunch of blankets -pretty journal pages -hugs when it’s cold out -ink drawings -making my bed -the fact that my favorite band has a song called hannah -genuine laughs and smiles -warm soup on cold days -new jackets -thick socks -when it’s cold outside but you have a v good coat and ur all toasty and happy -soft blankets -finishing homework early -fetal position+big sweaters+floor=happy hannah -making up chords on the uke and giving them names like bartholomew and furghi -remembering inside jokes from forever ago and laughing -laughing so hard you’re incapable of breathing -belting theatre music when home alone -suppa warm bagels -chess w/ tea and mi madre -making spotify playlists for every mood -pretty journals -yellow -knowing little quirks about my friends -asking little questions back and forth with someone i care about -freckles -boys eyelashes -hiking alone -my soft doggy -post-it note quotes -edamame beans with a lil salt at 3 am -my new mattress (praise the lawd) -getting stuff in the mail -the people who actually read all of these lmao -long hair (rly missing mine rn) -big shirts w no pants -people who have specific smells ex. cotton, lemons, lavender, cinnamon -hugging tall people -watching the previews before the movie -messy scribbly handwriting (i think really good handwriting is lacking in character) -this one picture of my dad from the eighties -sweet potatoes -people who use the word beautiful instead of hot -spoken poetry -asking boys what their favorite flower is (odds are they actually have one) -waking up on sundays and making myself breakfast -being hydrated: drink water kids -almond milk w a bit of nutmeg + cinnamon -mixing different teas (i’ve concluded that mandarin orange + ginger is v good) -knowing you somehow made someone’s day better -people who play with my hair -picture books with good plots -sparkling apple cider -asmr (lol don’t judge me) -realizing the other day that i am pretty, and if you don’t think so, that’s ok. -popping popcorn perfectly (ur welcome for the alliteration) -waking up ten minutes before your alarm -elevators arriving right as you push the button -warm winter days, today was v nice -powder blue shirts -hearing a song from ages ago and realizing that you know every word -plugging your phone in at 1% -the amount of hugs i get every day -cuddles -painting myself or people -when a boring class is over @science -watching a movie after thinking about it for a while -packing for a plane ride -new ringtones -going to the merc and getting the last muffin there -holding hands with people in a platonic way -hugs from behind -comfort food (ex. brown rice and tofu w spinach) -crème brulèe -driving at night or in the rain -the way it feels when this certain person says my name -soft hands + long fingers -mild weather -putting my hand out of the car when it’s chilly -nail-polish that peels off in one piece -messy/curly hair -new pj’s -hugs that last a while -giving birthday presents -calling my cat bean -“hannah bee” (nickname from my mam) -cinnamon gum -noice cancelling headphones -calling people by their full names -stiles stilinski falling -new soap -brown eyes -long eyelashes -soft breathing -bronze -swearing but not actually swearing (heck, darn) -fetal position anywhere -being hydrated -nose highlight -small stuffed animals -chocolate milk w straws -my sister -having paint left on my hands -light gray shirts on people -pillow forts -highways at night -bumper stickers -drinking sparkling apple cider out of wine glasses -when my room is hot + i put my hand on a cold wall -hearing my cat purr -catching people looking at me and just smiling at them -hugs that nearly make me fall over -or that squeeze so tight you have to readjust your footing -new pads of paper -dropping a toxic person/thing and feeling weightless -my new room -shopping w my sister -eating hot dogs in target w my sister -friends who ask if you’re ok randomly -when lil asks how my day went -singing fallout boy/ed sheeran/bad rap w reya -chocolate cake -washi tape + journals -kicking a ball really hard to relive stress -p4 spanish -hearing nice things people say abt me -having a messily clean room (w a few things scattered around) -walking around downtown w tea and friends -hot pockets (new discovery for me circa monday) -cracking my neck, knuckles, back -having a heater in my room and always being warm -taking my hair down when it’s still a lil damp and being able to smell shampoo -a teal 1987 ford bronco in my neighborhood -slow orchestra music -piano solos -watching mystery movies and figuring it out before the people do -subtitles -protective friends -today being the first day i haven’t felt spaced out in years -old book smell -rain-soaked hair -resting my head on someone’s warm chest or arms -the acoustic versions of songs i like -the three people who i’m ok w calling me banana -how i don’t swear unintentionally anymore -21 questions -sleeping at school -cutting pancakes into triangles -jim and pam -jelly beans -perfect pancakes -tucking my cat into the crook of my stomach -the office -empty movie theaters -coke zero w a straw -the smol boy me and kenzie became friends with -my package came today -the way my mom sings to her houseplants -being tickled -sofffftttt kitty pawssss -sleeping in really late cause i normally wake up early -golden milk -lullabies -granola w yogurt + maple syrup + cinnamon -sleeping on the ground in my moms office -big sweaters tucked into jeans -mad-libs -collaging -thin sweatshirts -drinking soup out of mugs -small straws -target hot dogs

5 notes · View notes

kreeshaha6 · 4 years

Text

Kreeshaha 6

by Hui Kj

With the weight of the napkin, yoo-hoo! It is a father with an orange juice disorder wish. Sins count, greet the dogs kindly or you will ask fellow locals if they are bilingual because you just have not been anywhere for awhile. Peace will get you killed - I have been pushed away via repulsion both ways; yeti stance. Somebody interrupt, drown with me - heaven is cheering when you stare around. Nobody will tame house; Julia triangle. If you are stuck on a boat fishing, scream at the tally of meaning lost but shiver on. I have hunted for etiquette in evolution and the wind is a smart devil. Not call it anything but muddy carpet to scrub out while you know exactly how to update yourself in your habit modes - a lot of social tests behind your back: a prince does not know how to talk, and queens will catch you lying you idiot. Whatever you think: it is still going to be countered or briefly deconstructed - counter, go ahead: I know the actual perverts when they sniff or clear their throat. Hints mark distance.

The compliments are not lies, cough. The dedications are not sin: show yourself crazy-cat. Your best friends can go home and find love in a different world. You can do heroin. God is real when you dream; it is just about natural disasters and some year soon the math will not be funny anymore and galaxies can go fuck themselves. The napkin edges are pink in yet out just of black holes after the swallow - saying one thing soon that will ruin your life, let’s go.

Loud wind, cartoon questions - boink. I hate cleaning the lawn before cleaning the lawn. Consume teal mold for the beauty of heroes and it will keep your life an achievement; maybe wicked to you and I mostly agree. Some 420s let you knock on neighbors doors to tell them all you know about 9/11 - the same neighbors that you steal cigarettes from from their porch every week, and on Halloween you put a christian book in their mailbox; also a mixtape of songs hinting about what you are reading right now. It has been five years now since the discovery moment where God opened the burning star door and nobody has to believe me.

I heard Julia likes live music. If you look away do not miss anything. Take a bus to a stranger’s bed, and if one sings for another then you can avoid talking about abortion. People say I lie to them but it is a reverse to laziness and accumulation of everything I want to say to people but say it now; feels good but that does not mean there is a scheme thing but rather being a romantic and free, so. You can think it jab to you but reword back to me only making people in homes bitter: like context and history with a dazzling motive to not go back to the moment if that is how it feels.

In my childhood bedroom, every time I slept facing the wall Ursula would be looking under tables for me at daycare in my dreams. None of this violence - look down to your menu and order whatever you like. I can get a discount for you because I work here. Talk vaguely a bunch so the circle is crooked so they do not plot against your base. My father started a private school and is doing his Phd although while his bewildering perversions make you so sick that you deny it of that setting: ha ha, a lasting impact but reveals so much that makes him think that every message is from God so it is all fine. The future sucks; metaphysical targets for what is basically standard psychology that the man never knew it was an ill catastrophe leaving me and some others perverted in the sense that you can never forget it.

Ignore it; manipulation is impressive but you should rather get a benzo from a doctor. It is paranoia but not the last splash - I am healing you. To tell you my stomach hurts under blue sky and you are just getting lucky today - ugh. Will I ruin your time? It is more than being lonely or personal whorish fallbacks - every man I know has never asked me questions and I could cry about it sincerely, like it is stealing and you will hate me for asking you questions. Maybe if you thought I read enough books and write essays that I would know how to have an opinion - that is not how I would like to use my time when in the relevance of a beautiful creature explaining this now or then or whenever.

Their loved ones will ask you stranger how they can help them outside of your new friends house like who the fuck are you? - fuck you actually and fuck the police. Putting stuff in other’s mailboxes is illegal and I just do not want trouble which is why I make it so difficult to trust me. No material desire for shoplifting, rather pretty luck will keep you better informed of the news; a whole new bias begins where that if you do not smell bad or can buy the rum only to be the new’s steadier in the end to popularize romantic metaphors that just have nice colors in them eventually.

My father drinks decaf. My suicide prevention sticker looked like the grim reaper warping towards me at the certain angle staring - shadows move of other shadows. Maybe when you got reckless heaven’s angel work in curious ways, but you thank God even tho he said only a dove - your best friend is a bird and he or she will mention later on about when the angel got used to it all and literally kept you alive out of pure loyalty.

You can toot if you want. Romance is luck - if free money is going around it should all be for anything but devices or decor; rather buy a map and rent a small house for yourself and take notes on how they never cared like you do. Make coffee and never answer a door. Water is the only great thing - water and good. The earth will put up a fight

- throwing up is good and the decomposing factor dresses us light and fried by the sun.

Were angels once human? Lucifer chose to leave, and I did not know an angel could bend - even though God is still building a kingdom which I believe changes in the war seasons. I can ruin your life; just a minute. Soft tone means peace and if you can find peace in hell the soft tone is the most heartbreaking edge in religious history where you can take a break to visit earth for good or bad - but maybe these are all just a different race: armadillos are just gross and that is my observation to know how sick I am which the angels and demons are in magnificent pose and telling enemies ‘He is mine.’ But enemies will hear about it and it is your party, there are just a bunch of lustful, sick, obsessive figures trying to use your voice against young people so they have their own obsession of lust - incorrect and dumb. Go into a basement and do not leave until you have scratched out a million things: follow a series for a theme and counter it without anger. Boy, girl, boy, girl…. Which game is this? Finnegan’s Wake - the master key, only happening with a person you will quit on : so have fun with your boring masturbation until you are ready to drink it up to become your own entity, mission quite repulsive but holy if God said so. You can bullshit, that I got yoga at 5’clock. Buddy will talk; every little little fever come along, and he is drinking now and I say! the wrong first dates this month, powder donuts, and a dork fag. No worries, people know wrong is wrong.

Earth attack with a pickup line for when it will zap least because of desperation. If you say what you mean thru tunnels of empathy checkpoints direct it to enemies. It is asexual and you remove yourself - you take drugs and risk your family’s curtesy. One aches when relieving some sort of statement that is past relevancy - at least there is conversation in the wild west. You wonder if I love you - might as well kill me.

I know the sin - that is my profession: kreeshaha 6. If you draw a blank that means you have admitted - at least that is how you make new friends opposite of disappear. What will catch on? Peppermint? Cinnamon rolls? Think of as many people as you can - betray your best friends if you are the devil. Old people will think you are cool if you show what they forgot about.

0 notes

mybiasisquiet · 7 years

Text

Red Velvet’s Red Flavor MV (Music Video Analysis)

The views presented in this analysis are a part of my own individual interpretation of the video, which means they are subject to error. This post is based off of the MV from the SMTOWN Youtube channel. The video is very quirky and I’ve been kind of disconnected from the fandom lately, so if the members mention anything about the meaning of the video, please go again and message me.

Fruit: So, Red Velvet has come back with a rather...unique concept. Each girl has been assigned a different fruit based on their color: Irene is watermelon, Yeri is grape, Seulgi is pineapple, Joy is kiwi, and Wendy is orange (why couldn’t they have just made Wendy blueberry?). The song is called Red Flavor, so it makes sense to assign them each a fruit that would give them a specific flavor. But that doesn’t explain why each member is interviewing a fruit version of themselves...my theory is that the video is a coming of age story. The most important thing about fruit is that it has to be ripe for it to reach its best flavor point. As the girls age and mature, they “ripen” and reach an age where they can enjoy the sweetest part of life.

The video includes scenes where the members are interviewing their respective fruits. It appears like a newscast, with ticker tape, and a different member translating in sign language.

The ticker tape reads: I wasn’t that sweet when I was young. As I grew, I became full and ripe.

Later, the video switches things around, having the kiwi interview Joy instead.

Or a watermelon interviewing a watermelon.

And then finally reveals multiple versions of Seulgi interviewing herself, and even running the production. As they interview the fruit, they are really interviewing themselves. The surreality of fruit interviews and multiple Seulgis can be attributed to an almost subconscious state. Rather than literally interviewing fruit, each member is figuratively reflecting on their past selves, reflecting on their own stories, their youth, and their current lives.

Keep in mind the subject matter of the ticker tape interviews.

I wasn’t that sweet when I was young. As I grew, I became full and ripe.

Back when I was a child, I wasn’t tough like this, I was very weak.

That I have to say goodbye to my friends.

I used to dream of becoming jam when I grew up.

During my childhood, I was very mischievous.

(I wanted to be) Ice cream!

Sometimes I’m not even sure who I am.

As an only child, I always used to play alone.

I haven’t included everything, but the things included in the interview show a reflection on childhood emotions and aspirations, and a comparison to current life. As children they faced hardships, like having to part with friends. They experienced weakness and loneliness. They dreamed of becoming things like jam and ice cream in accordance to the fruit theme, showing somewhat unrealistic aspirations for the future. As they grew and matured, they could become strong and “full and ripe,” but they might still experience issues of identity, as with Yeri’s interview line: Sometimes I’m not even sure who I am. This reflects the transition from childhood to young adulthood.

We see a childhood photo of one of the members. I have no idea who it is or if it’s even an actual childhood photo, but it’s shown during Irene’s clip so for the purpose of this post I’m going to say it’s Irene’s childhood photo. The childhood photo explicitly introduces the comparison of youth.

A few seconds after the shot of baby Irene, we see a little sprout being watered.

And then immediately after we get a shot of a child being rained upon. The juxtaposition of the childhood photo, the growing plant, and the child all show the connection between growing fruit and growing children.

A couple seconds later we get a shot of a giant orange tree, in contrast to the small sprout. Again, there’s contrast between youth and maturation.

Then we see Irene recreating a childhood photo.

And Seulgi dressed as a school girl being reprimanded for her hairstyle. The ticker tape reads: I always got reprimanded in school for having inappropriate hair styles.

In reflecting upon their childhood, they imagine their present selves in that childhood context. Even though they act as they did when they were children, we know there’s something off with someone Seulgi’s age being reprimanded like a school child. In reliving their childhood memories, it only serves to show how much they’ve really grown and matured. We know that Seulgi won’t be chastised anymore for her hair, just like we know that Irene doesn’t wear her hair in watermelon pigtails and that Yeri doesn’t want to be jam anymore.

The coloring book pages and 100% grade also reflect childhood.

We see Wendy dressed in a cap and gown while playing on a skateboard. It’s a mix of childlike playfulness with young adult themes like graduation. This reflects the meeting of a childlike attitude with their current state of maturity in young adulthood as they move from one phase of life to another.

Throughout the video, the fruit is being picked, put into baskets, and having stickers put onto them. The fruit is being removed from their place of growth to be shipped out. The fruit is ripe and ready for consumption.

Just as the members are themselves reaching a stage in life where they can reflect on their childhood and still look forward to what is to come. They have reached the sweetest part of life. They’re ripe and ready to face the world that is to come. The adult-like nature of the party reflects this coming adulthood, as well. (Also, the little patches on Wendy’s dress are grocery store bags...like for fruit.)

#red velvet #red flavor #the red summer #wendy #irene #joy #yeri #seulgi #analysis #theory #kpop

146 notes · View notes

youreghanamissme · 7 years

Text

Ch-Ch-Changes

9/1/2017

I've been back a few weeks, and life is not what I expected. I've never been more of a recluse. It's normal to need a few days to readjust to village life after a long period of travel, but since I've returned, I seldom leave my room unless it's to go to my latrine, go on a walk-jog, or buy chop. I'm lonely and alienated and melancholic at site, but more on that later. September is upon us (cue Earth, Wind & Fire), and so much has changed in my life that I'm a little stunned.

I came back to site to hear that the Orange Flesh Sweet Potato (OFSP) vines distribution went well! The vines are now in the ground, despite a few hiccups. Third time's the charm because RING didn't pull another fast one on me. We actually got the vines to my community this year, and my women will have Vitamin A -rich potatoes for consumption and for market in a few months! I've been trying to visit the farms where they're planted to check up on them, but it's been tricky to locate my counterpart. His phone is spoiled, and it's harvest time. Everyone is pretty much at the farm all day, every day, and it looks like dropping in at his compound and asking his sisters to let him know I'd like to meet up with him when he's free is not the best way to go about it.

Harvest time means the village is mostly deserted for the bulk of the day, but it also means the rains are still upon us! I returned to a room full of mold (it's the moisture and the heat and the fact that things have just been sitting there untouched), but that's the silver lining to being gone for so long. It's vexing to have to clean up, but on the bright side: YOU HAVE TO CLEAN UP! And make it a deep clean. So I thanked past-Diana for buying vinegar (I originally bought it for pickling, but it's multi-functional!) and antiseptic and got to work.

The rains brought with it a lusher, green landscape, as if transformed over night. It makes bike rides very dreamy and pastoral. The herds of cows are now allowed to graze freely which means wagashi (deep-fried farmer cheese) in the evenings! Unfortunately, this time of the year also means more mosquitoes, ants, flies, and rotting remains of smashed frogs on the dirt roads.

Other developments? I've picked up the ukulele again. Sort of. I brought it back with me from America. I didn't pack it when I left for Ghana the first time because I didn't think I'd actually practice. I read on reddit that if you didn't really practice it in America, bringing an instrument to Ghana (or any country as a PCV) was a waste of luggage space.

Well, the PCV who posted that is not me, and I should have pulled a Roxette and listened to my heart because I want to practice. Being in Ghana may be the motivation and time and space I need. I bought my uke when I was in third year of university. I had just gotten out of a relationship and thought I was going to channel all that sad energy into happy music. PFFT! How naïve. I've never played anything but the recorder, and I didn't even play that well. I remember quite vividly how my third grade teacher Mr. Moots asked me to stop during class practice one day because I was screechier than the rest of the lot. I wasn't just throwing us off key, I took the wheel and gave it to Thelma (or was it Louise?). “Practice at home, please, and then join us next time.” Oh, yeah?! Well Hot-motherfucking-Crossed-Buns to you too, Moots! I ended up pretending to play the recorder during class practice for the rest of the year. That's actually kind of sad in retrospect.

You hear stories of Tiger Moms putting their kids through piano lessons and violin practice. Um... yeah. Have you met mine? I was part of the Going Home Club and president of the Clean Plate Club. I don't know the difference between a G, C, E, or A note, so when I got a ukulele and a tuner I was at a loss. Didn't know what the hell I was doing, and I've been fumbling with it every since. Doesn't help that I've lived in flats half my life and was (am) embarrassed to be practicing badly for all my neighbors and flatmates to hear. But when I got home to America I figure that Woody (my uke, so named by a former flatmate. He's not even made of real wood, I gather. I think I peeled off a Made in China sticker a few years back too) could continue to sit in storage unused OR he can be picked up and prodded at a few times by myself in Ghana. Maybe I'll even earnestly practice... which is, actually, the goal.

My left fingertips aren't the only thing I'm trying to train. I also signed up for a 10K. I know—DEMENTED, right? I hate running, but I felt inspired after hanging out with my friend Sheena in America. She talked about how she had ran the Lake Merritt (Oakland) 10K recently. She didn't really train for it, but she just felt like doing it. And that made me think of the Accra International Marathon. I'm no marathoner, but there are smaller running events like the 5K, relay, half-marathon, etc. within it. I had been playing with the idea of signing up for the 10K since I first heard about it. I've done a few 5K's, and I knew that wasn't challenging enough. Relays require groups of people, and for myself, running is a very solitary thing. The universe and I know that I will shrivel into a desiccated vegetable husk if I attempt a half-marathon with my “I Hate Running” body, so the best choice would be a 10K.

I initially decided against the idea because it's in Accra. Never mind that I loathe Accra, it's so far from home. Besides, I want to be a Nutrition IST trainer. Last year, the IST was right before the marathon, and I had no idea 1) when the In-Service Training was being held this year, and 2) whether or not I was actually approved to be a trainer (I've gotten a symbolic wink almost a year ago, but that could also be interpreted as a twitchy eye in the world of Peace Corps administrative decisions). I casted the idea aside, but it remained, floating in and out of consciousness in the corners of my mind.

How cool would it be to take part in such an event in Ghana, while you are serving as a PCV? Just to do it for yourself, y'know? Not for the facebook likes or whatever that screams “Hey, Look! Me! How cool, yes?”, but because you were there and it happened and you participated. My conversation with Sheena immediately returned the 10K to my mental front-burner. I knew immediately that I'd regret it if I didn't sign up and at least try. So I gave them my $40 (Dollars, dude, but it's all for a good cause. The marathon benefits a charitable organization in Ghana), and now I'll have to figure out how I'm going to jog/walk-jog a 10K. I've been trying to practice, but most of the struggle is getting out the door and committing to the idea of running.

I've made some progress, but it's slow going. Lately it's been a “one foot in front of the other” kind of deal and a “think about how great it feels when you're done!You did good, kid!” kind of motivation. Once, my ipod battery died, so I made the choice to listen to a podcast while jogging. Do you need a pair of ice skates? Because hell may have frozen over. If you told me that I could more than less jog while listening to Levar Burton reading me a short story presented by Audible where the stories transport you to another dimension, even while sitting in traffic (TM), I would have laughed so hard that my tea would have sprayed through my nose. But it happened. I'm hoping that side of me sticks around until October 28th, the day of the marathon. Or, y'know, as they say in Ghana: pray for me.

There's been a lot of changes, but the biggest and most difficult modifier in my life? One of my best friends in service returned to America prematurely. I know it's all for the best, but I've been emotionally eating and binge-watching television shows off my hard drive so that I don't think about it and erupt in tears (again). Unlucky for me, I finished most of my America reserves before it happened. The granola, jerky, chocolate, chips, and cookies have long been devoured. The only things I have left are prunes and Parmesan cheese packets (the ones you get at the pizza parlor... who knew you can buy it in bulk off Amazon?), so I've made do... a very, very gassy do. Friends leaving is something they don't really talk about during Pre-Service Training. Hell, it happens every few months as one group leaves and a new one comes in. I've said goodbye to so many people, and I will continue to do so as some of my favorite Agric PCV's are the next folks to go (and then it's my intake group!). But it's different because she and I were in the same cohort. We've been part of a close group of friends since the beginning, and we've carried it on as Northerners and market buddies and support systems... that to think that she will not be here to finish service together breaks my heart. It still feels slightly surreal... like, I’m going to see her next week. But I won’t. It's selfish, I know. It's not like she's dead, yet I feel like I'm in mourning. I'm sad, mad, and need another mug of wine and spoonful of Parm. But that's the beauty of Peace Corps. It's not goodbye. There's still America.

I truly believe some of the people you meet in service are destined to be lifelong friends. Pre-PC friends aren't going to completely understand what it was like; all the shit—figurative and literal—you go through in service. But your PC people will. And you won't have to spend an hour explaining context. They'll just get it. Peace Corps is like one big national club you join. Membership is for life, even if you didn't finish or you served more than once. And then when you find yourself in New York or Chicago or Bum-Fuck-Somewhere, you have an old friend to meet up with. And it's also the best excuse to recruit your friends for a cross-country reunion road trip.

It may already be September, but this year is my year of intentional change. It's utterly saccharine and cliché, but life is really how you react to everything that happens to you and around you. I've been working on internalizing the sentiment that life is not a race; that you don't need to have acronyms that follow your last name or go to grad school to be successful or happy. It's a disconcerting thought because we've been conditioned by American society that you should have some semblance of your whole life figured out and a 401K started by thirty, or something to that effect. It's hard not to be a sheep, but conformity is what made Baby Boomers a repressed generation.

Next month I'll be closer to thirty than I am to twenty, and I will be none the more inclined to return to school and start a career with roots and a network that will one day lead to tenure or attending Sheila's divorce party or something. I'm still trying to figure out what path to take next and have been wavering between the idea of studying for the GRE or moving to Baltimore (or somewhere with snow) when I get back; of WOOF-ing across all of South or Central America or doing Peace Corps Response (or some other international aid job... USAID, holla at yo grrl?); of signing up for community college courses for nursing or hiking the Appalachian Trail... I don't know what I want to do, and that's OK in this moment, tomorrow night, and maybe next month too.

I've not been back a full month, and so much has already changed. Some of it great, some of it not so much... but all of it challenging in the best sense. I can eat another fistful of prunes (not many left at this point), and I will. But I won't do that forever. I'm going to leave my room. I'm going to work on those unfinished borehole grants. I'm going to go on a jog (ugh). I'm going to meet up with friends. I'm going to do more School Health Education Program (SHEP) lessons when school recommences. I'm going to master Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star on my uke. I'm going to be kinder to myself and to others... because change and challenges happen all the time. We just have to rise above it and try to be OK because It'll all be OK in the end. If it's not OK, it's not the end. That's apparently John Lennon. Now enough waxing on quasi-philosophic lofty thoughts. Forget about the pressure; life is short. Let’s Dance to some Bowie and Queen (okay, no more bowie refs, RIP)

youtube

#pcghana #howiseepc #ghana #peacecorps #ofsp #bowie #changes #10k #ukulele #existentialcrisis #friendship #rpcv

1 note · View note