#finally at my computer after one thousand years so i can post

[gravehound]

my gift for @yourfavouritedoll for @dishonoredgiftexchange! hope you had a wonderful holiday season and that you enjoy! prompt was for something quiet and peaceful with jindosh :')

#dishonored #kirin jindosh #art tag #finally at my computer after one thousand years so i can post

[colleendoran]

How Do I Do Stuff

The question was phrased a little strangely, and I don't want to embarrass the person by posting exactly what was said, but I'll answer it and hope this clears everything up.

I do almost all of my drawing by hand. No, I don't trace in Photoshop. Not a judgment on those who do, but I come from a generation of artists who did not use Poser programs or other digital tools. We learned to draw using a technique called the Sight Size method. I know a lot of people assume everyone - including the old masters - traced everything using optical tools, but while it is true some people did, it is just as true that most didn't, and you can draw with great accuracy if you learned how to draw the old fashioned way.

Sight Size breaks everything down into its barest components of geometric shapes and you build from there. Once you learn it, you never forget, and it applies to everything you will ever draw.

I learned it using a set of Famous Artist Course books my mom had since she was a kid, and they are still the gold standard. They're often on ebay. If I were you, I'd buy them.

I actually find using figure reference really annoying because I like exaggerations and modifications from reality in my final work.

This page from Neil Gaiman's Chivalry was drawn and painted without figure reference of any kind.

I don't know why people assume I trace all the time. If you were to try to use photographs to replicate these figures, you would find they are slightly off. There is no tracing here.

This is not to say I never use reference. This page, for example, was referenced from a photo of my mother. Isn't she pretty.

But this page of Sir Galaad was drawn and painted without reference.

He's pretty, too.

If he were real, I'm sure a lot of people would be very happy about it. But he's not. And had I reference, the art would have gone a lot faster. I had a time trying to nail this face that is very alive in my head but doesn't really exist.

Back in the ancient days, all cartoonists had to learn to draw and paint extemporaneously because reference was limited and digital tools didn't exist. While some high end artists had photography studios and professional models with costume and sets on hand, small fry like me were limited to what was in the house or available at my small local library, which was no bigger than a few rooms of my current house.

Artists kept extensive "morgue files" or "swipe files" which were collected from magazine clippings and photographs so we would have as much of what we might need on hand for quick reference. These ephemera collections could get unwieldy. I have thousands of photographs I've simply never sorted. I finally dumped most of my files this past year.

Have I ever traced anything? Of course, especially if I have to re-use a shot or setting over and over. Making extra work for myself is just silly. It's my job to make pictures, not to perform magical feats, like copying one shot after another over and over without making a mistake.

However, for almost 15 years of my career, I refused to copy or trace anything, and did not even own a lightbox. On the one hand, that forced me to learn to carefully examine what I saw. On the other hand, it was a stupid hill on which many deadlines died.

Only after I realized many professional artists had lightboxes and overhead projectors did I finally break down and get one.

The one thing I use my lightbox for more than anything is for tracing my thumbnail sketches to the final drawing paper. Instead of trying to capture the liveliness of the original sketch by copying what I see - only bigger - I blow the thumbnail up to the size I want the final art to be, then I trace over the thumbnail using a lightbox onto the final drawing paper.

Here's a look at thumbnails from the graphic novel Neil Gaiman's Snow, Glass, Apples.

I enlarged these on my computer to fit onto 11"x14" paper, and traced the thumbs before finishing the art which was drawn in pen and ink and colored in Photoshop.

While I obviously made some changes, the essence of the thumbs is there in the final work. Tracing my thumbs retains some of the looseness of the original sketches, which is often lost otherwise.

So, there is a valid purpose to tracing at times, though in my opinion, too much tracing can weaken drawing ability, substitute for developing skills, and make the work kind of stiff.

If you want to, I'm not your judge. But it's weird to me that people think I must be faking my skills in some way.

Ironically, the word cartoon comes from the Italian word cartone, which is a large heavy sheet of paper - also, the origin of the word carton.

Preparatory sketches were made on this paper which was then transferred to the final work surface via either tracing or by stamping little holes in the paper through which dust was sprinkled, recreating the contours of the drawing for the artist to follow.

So the origin of the word cartoon comes from a process often used...for tracing.

#snow glass apples #chivalry #neil gaiman #drawing

[idesofrevolution]

Requiescat

"Alright, my Musical Mentees, welcome back to my Channel! I am your friendly neighborhood musical critic, Kyle Donaghue, and today we're going to be reviewing something a little bit out of our typical wheelhouse!" Kyle sat with feigned excitement in front of his webcam. Though on the outside he eagerly drew out his intro for the 250th episode of his "Musique Critique" web series, internally he was livid. The young YouTuber had dreamed of becoming the go-to modern music critic on the platform but after almost two years of barely breaking a thousand views, he recognized he needed to do some market research on what his 347 subscribers wanted to see.

Thus, after asking his audience for requests, the music of some newer wannabe rockstar gained traction to be reviewed. To the music conservatory graduate, such low-brow "music" was beneath him; yet reality dictated that the business of content creation was based upon supply and demand. His audience demanded it, and if he wanted to gain any traction whatsoever, he needed to pivot. So, when the band in question, Catalyst, announced a new single drop, Kyle decided he was going to be the very first reviewer to tear it a new one.

"So you guys have been requesting I listen to this band called 'Catalyst' for a long time now, and today is finally the day. Apparently, the lead singer of Catalyst announced a few days ago that a new single was going to be released. I haven't heard much about them, so I did a bit of digging." Kyle clicked around on his computer, dredging up whatever he found in his five minutes of "research" the night before. "So, this band literally came out of nowhere. They're independent and are in talks with some record company about a deal, but nothing has come of it yet, so I'm going into this completely blind. They're out of Austin, Texas, and it's four guys who started the band out of this lead singer's parent's garage. The guy's name is Jaxon Black."

Kyle was literally reading off of some Tumblr fan blog about all this, but his audience certainly didn't need to know that. Why would he put in any effort for a band of this low caliber? "Black is 27 years old and started the band in 2013 when the four of them were in high school. They haven't really found any success, which is one of the reasons I'm surprised you wanted me to review them in the first place. They play in dive bars and some small venues, but nothing really outside of that." Scrolling through the blog, a picture of Jaxon Black actually appeared on the feed. He looked like any run-of-the-mill traditionally hot bad boy that you could find on the cover of GQ. What was so special about him?

"So, it's interesting too. This guy looks completely different than he did back when the band was formed. I totally get he was a kid when he started it, and there's puberty and whatever. But I mean, can you say plastic surgery? C'mon, guys. This guy is a 'serious musician' to you all?" Kyle sighed and wiped his face clear of the disgust he felt inside, putting on the eager façade he felt he needed to emulate. "But for you guys, I will make an exception, I'll give Jaxon Black and Catalyst a chance. I'm doing this for you! Just know that!" With that, he began to screen share, and the handsome visage of Jaxon Black was plastered on his screen as it would be for the whole review. The single didn't have any album art or anything, it was just a Soundcloud link; so in hopes that his audience would see right through this charade, he let would make them look at the face of the man who wrote whatever terrible song he was preparing to hear.

"See what I mean, guys? Ugh. I'm sorry, anyways. Here it is. The link that's posted on this fan blog brings me to Soundcloud, and there's no title or anything. It's just called 'Untitled', so we're off to a great start. But like I said, let's give the guy a chance. So without further ado, here is Catalyst's 'Untitled.'" With the press of the space bar, the sound of a slower ballad began to play through his earbuds.

The song began with a slow and heavy bassline in A flat Locrian, immediately an odd choice to start with. Contrarian, in Kyle's opinion. In terms of influence, it was an odd mixture of stereotypical hard rock like Guns n' Roses or Aerosmith, prog rock like Yes and Pink Floyd, with a random hint of Santana? Kyle did his best to stifle the cringe which trickled down his spine, but his face could do nothing to hide it. He felt the corners of his lip tense up and purse, his left nostril tweaking in pure annoyance.

"Starting off in Locrian... that's an interesting choice." He muttered under his breath. Looking at the progress bar, he saw the song was a full seven minutes and thirty-six seconds long. Lovely. "I feel like this is gonna be 'Hotel California' but bad, not gonna lie to you guys." Though, as the electric guitar faded in, quiet and subtle, it took Kyle by surprise. The technique that Black employed in his riffs, with precision he'd rarely heard outside of a classical guitarist, was nothing short of impressive. "Okay, the guy's got some skill. I'll give him that."

The music felt lugubrious, giving the sensation of swimming through a vat of molasses, pushing and pulling at great tension. It was near impossible for him to put into words, but the gravelly tenor timbre of Black's voice deftly began to soar atop the dredging music below. Evoking Eddie Vetter or perhaps even Jon Bon Jovi, the words were not exactly easy to decipher. Frankly, the song was almost trancelike, as if he'd taken a handful of mushrooms before embarking on his musical journey.

"Guys, I don't know how to explain it, this shouldn't work but it... it kind of does? I don't... I don't know." Kyle leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes. The song had actually piqued his interest and intrigue, it was unlike anything he'd ever really heard before. Yet, it felt so familiar in ways far outside his comprehension. Waves of goosebumps washed across his body, barrage after barrage. The music became a full-body experience, and he was rendered speechless for the first time in his life. Wiping the sweat from his brow, Kyle tried his best to analyze the theory engrained into the song but found his mind to be a mere void that was seemingly being filled with viscous liquid. The longer the song went on, the more his mind felt entirely numb.

"I'm... I'm impressed, guys..." Words began to falter, his tongue feeling swollen and heavy. Behind his closed eyes, ribbons of bright colors danced against the black backdrop, bursts of red and purple illuminating the periphery like clouds of heat lightning. He could feel the notes meandering through the air and landing on his body, pressing down with the force of a boulder each time. "He's... he's really good, guys..." A thick dribble of saliva oozed through the gap in his open lips.

It was as if he was being drained of all his energy, all of his willpower, every last ounce of strength which propelled him to live. And yet, despite the darkness he could feel creeping over his body, he was oddly at peace. As if moving of their own accord, Kyle felt himself shuck his shirt from his body, now covered in a sprinkling of sweat across his limber torso and head. The music pulsated from within him as if he were the amp himself, seemingly making the muscles in his arms expand and contract. "I can... I can feel him in there..." Kyle couldn't even fathom how he'd gotten here. He was in his room, sitting in his chair and yet, he was somehow with Black, inside the music. With every heavy pick of the bass, his biceps began to swell and firm; veins distinctly snaked down his strong forearms and into his callousing fingers. His body temperature was now sweltering, shedding every ounce of water and liquid within him into the beadlets of sweat which cascaded down from his thickening pecs and cobbling abs.

The drums and synthesizer came in, further enriching the already complicated chords which tickled his ear like a soft, warm breath. The bass line was an ebb and flow, weaving and bobbing as the song soared through the chorus, a melody that sent a ripple of lust across his body. It was as if he were on a ship in a storm, one which was luring him deeper into the dark waters as his thighs began to balloon out of the sweat-stained shorts he wore. The power of the music seeped into his veins, imbuing him with a foreign energy from a distant shore beyond his corporeal being. His calves spasmed and inflated, while his feet stretched out wider and stronger in his quickly ripening socks.

Black's voice was now all that Kyle could hear in his head, every indecipherable word rang as some existential truth. Kyle's thoughts were no longer his own, he was just along for the ride, a passenger in his own mind. He was no longer in control of his actions, nor his thoughts. His breathing had become heavier, slower... The music had invaded his very being and taken control. Spatterings of black ink began to sprawl across his glistening smooth skin, each with some sort of esoteric reference which he would not yet understand. Grim Reapers, skulls, geometric designs of unhuman origin now proudly displayed across his strong body.

"Fuuuck, man. This shit is amazing..." His voice gradually grew scratchy and smoky from years of singing for crowds of headbanging punks in cramped, smelly bars. He reached to his left, eyes still closed in euphoric bliss, snatching the small joint which now sat on the edge of his desk. Kicking his sweaty, buttery feet up onto the wooden surface, he brought the smoking j to his lips, dragging a heavy dose of creative vapor into his powerful lungs. "Fuckin' hell, you guys... I mean... shit." He blew out a heavy, grey plume of smoke from his wide nostrils. "This song is fuckin' incredible."

He pulled down his shorts and briefs, letting his lean but long dripping cock slap against his navel. Strings of pre seeped out of his pulsating cockhead, making winding rivers flowing down toward his sagging sac. A large prince albert ring now adorned the top of his uncut shaft, with three frenum piercings towing down his urethra in succession. The slightest touch from his calloused fingers wreaked immeasurable pleasure, radiating from the groin all across every inch of his body. Thus, as he wrapped his hand tightly around the limber shaft, gently caressing the prince albert with the tip of his index finger, he could barely breathe without a quiet moan escaping his throat. Quickly, the fondling turned into a measured, intentional pump with each beat of the music.

The drums and bass were now coming together in a thunderous crescendo, Kyle could feel his very blood bubbling beneath his skin as it made his way up his strong neck and toward his skull as he hastened his pace. The room around him began to blur and distort. Bookshelves formerly lined with music theory textbooks and repertoires of classical mainstays were warped into racks of well loved guitars: Fender, Gibson, Sqiuer, & Ibanez. The pristine white duvet-covered bed was now clad with sleek black satin sheets and a shiny vinyl comforter. The portraits of famous composers which once adorned the wall were now a collage of posters: Black Sabbath, Def Leppard, Motley Crue, Metallica, AC/DC, The Ramones, Aerosmith, Pearl Jam, Nirvana, Led Zeppelin, Iron Maiden. Piles of ripped up, weathered clothes, marinating in the sweat of shows past now littered the dingy red carpet.

The blood had finally arrived at the precipice of his brain, and like a tidal wave crashing against the rocks, it overtook him. His hair darkened to a deep black, his brows furrowed, his lips now plump and curled into a permanent cocky smirk. This was his kind of music. This was his genre. This was the message he was born to bring to the masses. It was a message of rebellion, of raging against the corporate machine of whitewashed mass-marketed culture. A flash of bright red and teal illuminated the room from behind Kyle's closed eyes as rope after rope of his spunk shot from his cock onto the laptop and camera. He roared in climax, louder than he'd intended, but nothing his neighbors were unfamiliar with in regards to the activities the apartment notoriously beheld.

The music had stopped, the final note hung in the air for a moment before retreating back into the abyss as his shorts melted into a dense magenta slime, moving down his muscular legs until they covered his entire lower half before hardening into slick gator skin pleather pants and a pair of beat up black combat boots wafting the scent of his musky feet. Axel opened his now black eyes, letting out a sigh of complete satisfaction.

"Now that's what I call fuckin' music, man! See why I wanted ya to experience it? It's like a requiem for corporate machine, man. That's why Catalyst is my fuckin' muse. Their music is gonna take over the whole fuckin' world." A loud pinging signaled Axel to check his phone, where his bandmates, performing as Hammerthrow, were confirming their next gig in L.A. "Fuck yeah, guys. Just landed the Cali gig. I'm thinking we cover this masterpiece and mind fuck them into oblivion. Catch us in Azuza next week, kids. You don't wanna miss it." With that, he ended his recording, smirking mischievously as he uploaded it to his channel. The song certainly was going to change the world, even if the world itself wasn't ready.

#male transformation #body transformation #original #transformation #musky #gay transformation #punkification #rocker transformation #music transformation #badass transformation #bad boy

[littleadaline]

Hold Me [P.G8]

Warnings: academic overwhelm, reader isn’t coping well with the stress, Pedri being a (hopefully) helpful partner. Fluuuuuff ✨

A/N: wrote this during my midterms, basically how I felt going through the sleepless nights of studying, keep in mind I have ✨ADHD✨, so my retention can often be resumed to….shit 😽😽

A/N (again): I’m publishing this at 1:12 AM, clearly shouldn’t, but I’ve been too eager lmaoo. Um.. I haven’t written in a year or two, so bear with me. I’ll try to post on a somewhat regular basis, but being a Uni student, my schedule is a bit hectic. Love 😽

———————————————————————

Everything felt dull. The birds had stopped singing, the sky wasn’t as bright, the wind was colder. You huffed as you woke up, not ready to go through another day of this. Pedri had already left for training, leaving you alone in the flat. You sighed, turning over to grab your phone, chuckling as you saw the messages he had sent you while you were asleep.

[Mi amor:]

Thinking of you 😘 Good luck with studying today! I’ll grab us food on the way back xx

You answer his message before making your way to the bathroom, ready to get on with your day. As you take a quick glance in the mirror, you can’t help but notice your sulked face, your tired eyes from hours of staring at your computer, tirelessly trying to understand the concept of your class. You were currently studying for your finals, something that had been consuming your entire life, barely leaving space for extracurricular activities or just, breathing. Pedri had noticed the toll it had taken on you, on your couple, seeing your date nights pushed aside for a quick study attempt. You couldn’t lie, some days you had regretted pursuing a higher education degree. A notification from your phone pulled you away from your thoughts.

[Mi amor:]

Training is done, but I’m gonna go out with the boys for a bit. I should be back in 3 hours. Are you in the mood for a poke bowl, cariño?

You let him know before heading to the kitchen for a quick breakfast. As you bit through your toast, you glanced around the room. Your books and textbooks were splattered across the dining table, your pencils scattered around the room, either having fell down the table or thrown in a fit of rage. You sighed, putting down your coffee mug on the table. You knew you had to clean up your mess, not wanting Pedri to see the flat in this state. But something was preventing you from picking up your books, your scattered pencils, and the hundreds-if not thousands of Post It’s on the floor. In an attempt to pump yourself up, you sat down on the dinner table, a twinkle of hope in your eyes. You opened up your computer, your eyes glancing at the revision document. Word after word, after word, after word. Your brain barely read out the sentences, before you felt a ball in your throat, a feeling of helplessness overcoming you. Overwhelmed, you sat down on the cold floor of the flat, defeated. Why? “Why can’t I pick up after myself? Why am I so shut down?”, you muttered to yourself. You were nervously playing with the hem of your sweater, clenching and unclenching your fists, your breathing rapidly increasing. You found yourself overwhelmed; by the repetitive clinging of the washing machine you had previously started, the neighbours’ crying baby, the children playing in the park below the apartment. Everything felt too bright, too loud, too much. Exhausted, you let the tears out, longing for some sort of relief, more emotional than physical. You rolled yourself into a ball, sobs hidden by the noise of your neighbourhood.

Outside this flat, no one knew about the mental exhaustion you had pushed yourself to. The restless nights, staring at the ceiling while Pedri snored peacefully next to you; the times you silently cried in the shower as your soul broke from the pressure. There was no denying it, the academic pressure had broken your soul, left it torn into shreds, your confidence down the drain. Between the sobs, you didn’t hear the front door open. You quickly wiped down the tears before scurrying to the bathroom, locking the door behind you.

“Cariño, I’m home!”, a soft knock came from the door. You sniffled, rather loudly. “Is everything alright?”, his voice grew concerned.

You looked in the mirror, your eyes widening in horror as you saw how red they were. “Shit, shit shit,” you said dabbing some cold water around your eyes. Pedri knocked a second time, harder. “Open the door please, I’m concerned about you.”

Left without a choice, you reluctantly opened the door. Pedri was standing there, his figure towering over you, his eyebrows were knitted in worry, his lips slightly agape. His hair was slightly stuck to his forehead, most probably due to the sweat from training.

“Nena, what’s going on? Did something happen?”, he said as he took your hand and led you out of the bathroom. “C’mere.”

Settling down on the couch, your body over his, you closed your eyes; for fear of breaking down in front of him. You felt one hand settle on your back, while the other settled on top of your head. In an attempt to soothe you, he began stroking your back. You felt your body relax to his touch, your worries melting away into nothingness. Pedri was your anchor, in all the aspects possible. Whenever you were sick, or tired, overwhelmed or angry, you knew you could find solace in his arms. You don’t remember what exactly happened after sitting on the couch, but you woke up to a different scenery. The sun had set down, leaving Barcelona enveloped by a cold darkness. The apartment had been tidied up, windows closed, blinds drawn, your books neatly packed on the bookshelf, your Post It’s picked up from the floor, your pencils back into their container. All the lights were turned off, the only source of luminosity being the candle Pedri had lit up in the kitchen; almond vanilla, your favorite. Confused, you sat up.

“Pepi?”, you said, rubbing the sleep off from your eyes.

Footsteps made you turn around, a freshly showered Pedri looking at you. You saw him disappear into the bathroom before coming back out again, fully dressed and dried up. Before you were able to say anything, he sat down on the spot next to yours. His hand found yours as he fiddled with your fingers.

“Nena…I think I know what’s going on with you.”, he started.

You held your breath, afraid to hear the truth coming out of his mouth, a truth you had tried so hard to suppress and deny.

“You’ve overworked yourself, haven’t you?”, he said, lovingly stroking your hair. “You’d think all this tossing and turning at night would go unnoticed?”, he chuckled. “I have taken into account how you started biting your nails again, how little time you have to rest. Your water bottle is always sitting empty, unless I refill it for you. The snack basket’s content hasn’t moved either, unless I break your study trance and feed you. You are sitting in front of your computer every waking second you get. I’m worried about you, and your mental health.”, he said in one breath. Pedri was right. Your day was filled with dread, to have to spend hour after hour trying to memorize concepts for your degree, your mind feeling like a hole-filled sponge, never able to retain anything. Exhausted, you let the dam break. Your shoulders shaking with sobs, soaking Pedri’s shirt as well. Pedri tightened his hold on you, bringing you closer to his chest.

“You won’t go through this alone. With the upcoming international break and my injury, I will be home for the next week and a half. I have also booked you an appointment with a therapist, so you can establish coping mechanisms together… also to talk it out. And after all of this is over, I booked us a flight to your hometown.”

You looked at him in confusion.

“I think being away from your family isn’t helping you much either,” he let out. “You’ve been in Barcelona barely a year, and I believe a part of your soul is still in your hometown. I believe the beach and your grandmothers’ cooking is exactly what you need in order to come back stronger.” He said, kissing the top of your head.

You didn’t know what to say, nor how to thank him. Unable to say anything, you just let yourself crawl onto him, your head peacefully resting on his shoulder. His body wash -a mixture of sweet and spice- filled up your nostrils, as you hummed in peace. You would always be grateful for the day Pedri appeared in your life. The relationship you had built was one out of fairytales, a story of love and resilience, considering you had survived doing long distance in the early stages. You balanced out each other in more ways you could think of.

“I love you”, was the only thing you mustered up to say.

“Te quiero también, nena.” He said, leaving a kiss on your forehead.

#pedri #pedri gonzalez #pedri x reader #pedri imagine #pedri x you #pedri x y/n #fc barcelona

[createserenity]

Master List of My Fics and WIPs

Been meaning to do this for ages, so here we go. All titles link through to the fics on AO3. Sunlight In Your Smile (M, 12k - wip)

Aziraphale has to attend a family wedding and he may have told a bit of a white lie. Of course he doesn't actually have a boyfriend. So now he needs to find one and in despair he turns to an escort agency for help.

Waking Up With You (G, 1.6k - complete)

Crowley has just left the shop for the night and Aziraphale is locking the door when it hits him out of the blue. Why are they doing this? Why is Crowley leaving?

After six thousand years together and free from Heaven and Hell, Azirpahale realises they need to take the next step in their relationship. Fluffiness all round!

All The Pieces of You (E, 73k - wip)

Aziraphale had known he found Crowley attractive for a long time, but there was nothing wrong with that. The Almighty had done a very nice job when she’d made Crowley and surely appreciating the work of the Almighty was what angels were supposed to do? It was nothing more than that.

Except now Aziraphale knows what lust feels like and that might be a problem.

A mixture of smut, fluff and ridiculous historical adventures.

In The Beginning (E, 8.9k - complete)

In the beginning there was a garden and the Angel of the Eastern Gate and the Serpent of Eden decided that there are better things to do than stand around in the rain getting wet.

Shameless smut, in which Aziraphale and Crowley learn what all the fuss is about sex.

Better Than Today (E, 4k - complete)

Whenever they fucked Crowley said, “I love you.”

It would probably help if they talked about it, but somehow they just keep ending up having sex instead.

Smut with a fluffy ending.

Give In To Desire (E, 4.4k - complete)

Crawley hadn't actually meant for this to happen. He'd thought he'd tempt the angel into eating and the angel would maybe have a few bites and discover that it wasn't so bad after all. He hadn't expected to be setting himself up to be tempted into the sin of lust.

Just another fic speculating on what happened in the basement during the Job minisode, because you can never have too many of those, right?

A Day For Magic (T, 3.4k - complete)

In which there is a bench, a park and a coin, which leads to silliness and fluffiness all round.

Fic inspired by these kisses.

A Time of Wanting (T, <1k - complete)

Crowley wants.

He wants so badly and he's wanted for so long that it's a physical ache in his chest now. Short ficlet that's fluffy and happy, despite how the summary makes it seem. Also inspired by the kiss picture linked above.

Goodnight Angel (E, 14.4k - wip but also works as it is)

Post lockdown-phone-call fic.

Aziraphale had told him not to come over, but he was a demon and obviously he wasn't going to listen. Besides he was going out of his mind with boredom and going to see the angel was a much better idea than a long nap.

WIPs

Apart from my main wip All The Pieces of You I've also got a follow up to In The Beginning in the works and eventually I'll go back to Goodnight Angel as well. Apart from that I'm going to list my wips here and try to keep track of them with tags and get a bit better at posting about them. Some of these will probably never get written, especially since a few days ago there was only 12, then I scrapped one altogether taking it down to 11 and now somehow I'm up to 15. Too many ideas in my head and too many half writtten fics on my computer.

After The Swap

Blind date

Dance for Me

End Times

Entertain Me

Here's to the End Times (yep different to the above fic despite the similar working title)

It's You (This one is a one shot human AU and might be posted soon)

Run Away Together

Sunlight In Your Smile (I've started posting this finally!)

Lockdown Lifted

So You Can Take It Off (Desperately want to finish this because it's different to anything else I've written)

South Downs

University

Run Away Together (very much a working title!)

This Land of Ours (fits in the Pieces of You universe)

Waking Up With You (This is now done and posted!)

Job (This is finished and posted as Give In To Desire - linked above - although technically there are more chapters in the works)

#my writing #all the pieces of you #goodnight angel #in the beginning #all the kisses in the world #good omens #good omens fanfiction #good omens fanfic #waking up with you #it's you #wips #give in to desire #fic list #university au #sunshine in your smile #human au #you are the best thing

[paintingwhiteceilings]

❃Seventeen and buying concert tickets❃

a/n: Sooooo apparently, my first post has been doing really well. I came home from visiting my friends over the weekend, only to find out that it has over an 100 notes???? Thank you to everyone who has been liking and reblogging it. I genuinely didn't expect so many people to enjoy, or even see, it, and I feel so incredibly grateful :')

Anyway, I stumbled upon Scoups trying to buy their own concert tickets and thought it would make for a fun prompt. Enjoy!

Scoups/Seungcheol: 7/10

❀ What deity has he disrespected to be suffering this much? When he promised some of his friends to get them tickets as well, he did so out of the assumption that good karma would aid him in increasing his odds of getting good seats. Isn’t that how karma is supposed to work; you do a good deed and get rewarded?

❀ For some reason, the entire website seems to be working against him. He has an abysmal position in the queue, giving him a false sense of hope in obtaining tickets. After he finally is let in, the website seems to continuously glitch. The only reason that he ultimately gets to pick out decent seats is because he spends an absurd amount of money on them.

❀ No, it truly can’t be a higher power toying with him… Instead, he blames himself for picking the wrong location, date and zone. Somehow, he even manages to misplace his credit card, resulting in him having to turn his room upside down. He is about to completely lose it before discovering that he accidentally placed his keyboard on top of it.

❀ After struggling a ton, he finally manages to get decent tickets, ageing at least ten years in the process. Give him some time and space; he needs to properly process the entire experience. Maybe it is time to pay for an exorcist.

Jeonghan 1000000/10

❀ God has favourites, and it shows. Jeonghan decides to get concert tickets on a whim, pulling out his phone to check whether they are still available. Somehow, precisely at that moment, the tickets go on sale, making him first in the queue.

❀ He doesn’t really understand what Coups is complaining about. He has the seats he wants with a perfect view of the stage. The site runs smoothly, and he is able to buy the tickets without it buffering even once. He doesn’t even have to remind his friends to transfer him the money, either. They did it beforehand.

❀ Even worse, after he successfully purchased the tickets, he decides to never buy tickets for himself ever again. Why would he do it himself when he could ask his friends to do it for him instead? It gives him an additional ten minutes to nap. His ticket buying luck will become a memory, a legend that all those buying tickets tell each other.

❀ Is that Coups crying in the corner?

Joshua 8/10

❀ You have heard of chick-magnets, and now I present to you, Mr Hong, a ticket-magnet. Joshua has no interest in ticket buying. Rather than spending those hours sitting behind a computer, he could be enjoying one of his thousand hobbies instead. Joshua could’ve made at least four bracelets and watched a full season of anime in the same time span. Why worry over Maroon 5 tickets when he can sing Sunday Morning himself.

❀ Instead, his friends end up giving him their spare tickets whenever someone cancels. Over the years, he has gone to a wide arrange of concerts. It is kind of impressive. One time he went to both a classical and a heavy metal concert on the same day. It gave him whiplash; he almost started a mosh pit as the third movement played.

❀ Considering that Joshua never checks his phone, he wouldn’t even be aware of what concerts are happening. Not that it really matters. Somehow, he will end up going anyway. All concert tickets lead to Hong Jisoo.

Jun 2/10

❀ Have you ever tried buying tickets in a language that is not your native tongue? No? Well, let me tell you, it is hard. Jun has been staring at the screen for the past five minutes, trying to figure out the fine print. He is having a hard time deciphering the very legal and formal Korean.

❀ He is pretty sure that he is misinterpreting half of it; it seems rather odd for a concert ticket site to be talking about saving the cows when he is looking at insurance options. It truly is weird. Still, Jun cannot help but be a bit concerned about the cows.

❀ Before he is able to buy the tickets, he runs out of time. He had tried to call his members, but he should’ve figured that him reading the confusing Korean out loud would result in a weird narrative telephone game where the members have to guess the word from his shaky pronunciation. At least it made for a fun new game for GoSe.

❀ Fortunately, he is favourite child number 1, and the other members have zero faith in him being able to buy his own ticket. They made sure to get him one whilst he was calling with them. Of course, they gasslight him into thinking that, by some miracle, he had managed to buy the ticket himself. They don’t want to hurt his feelings.

Hoshi/Soonyoung: -100000000000/10

❀ I should probably add more zeros, but that would ruin the aesthetics. Hoshi's problems already start upon him trying to turn on the computer. No matter how often he smashes the power button, it does not respond. He thinks he broke it, but in reality, Hoshi doesn't understand the concept of a charger. Nobody told him that computers need energy to function.

❀ When Wonwoo told him that the computer needed to be fed, trying to explain the concept of charging and electricity, Hoshi tried giving it a piece of his fried chicken. He left it there for a full hour, but it didn’t eat it. Hoshi thinks the laptop might be mad at him for letting it starve for so long. Someone, please help this man; he is crying.

❀ Maybe instead of using his computer, he can use his phone to buy tickets. Oh, wait, no. He tried showering with his phone because he thought it was waterproof. Why did he think it was waterproof? Nobody knows. He has put it in rice to see whether it will turn on again. The others haven���t told him yet that it is hopelessly fried; they don’t want him to get another phone only to ruin it within seconds.

Wonwoo 100000000/10

❀ With his gaming set-up and ridiculously fast internet, Wonwoo makes ticket buying look like a sci-fi film. To the untrained eye, watching Wonwoo buying tickets might seem rather boring. To those more experienced, his skills at clicking on the right things at the exact right time are insane. Internally, he has an entire dramatic inner monologue when he does, recounting his months of research on how to optimize ticket buying.

❀ It has become a game for him; he has an insane track record for buying the best seats, and at this point, he does it more so for the thrill. He resells them to the members, increasing the price a bit as he does. He doesn’t tell them, of course; it makes them feel indebted to him, owing him a favour he can cash in during GoSe, whilst he, unbeknownst to them, is making a decent profit. Truly, he is hitting two birds with one stone.

❀ It is only after Wonwoo uses his hard-earned money to buy five extra computers to further optimize the buying of tickets that the other members begin getting concerned. They ultimately decide to hold an intervention for him, explaining that his obsession with ticket buying is borderline unhealthy. So far, he is doing well. He hasn't bought a single concert ticket since the intervention.

Woozi/Jihoon: 9/10

❀ Concert tickets seem to magically appear on his doorstep, paired with letters full of admiration. Woozi has no idea how they got there. Whenever an artist is going on tour, the tickets seem to materialize out of thin air without fail. He fails to realize that by being the legendary producer Woozi, THE Lee Jihoon, everyone wants him at their concert. He truly is a humble king.

❀ To be honest, he doesn’t really want to go. Unless it happens to be Bruno Mars, he would rather stay indoors, focusing on his own music. He decides to give all the free tickets to Joshua, figuring that it would be a waste to throw the tickets out. However, he stopped giving Joshua the free tickets after he discovered that Joshua was pretending to be him. Not that anyone believed him, but still, Woozi no longer wanted to be associated with the guy who was shamelessly dancing around, executing the cringiest of dance moves.

❀ On the one hand, it did somewhat work. The artists have stopped inviting Woozi to every single concert that they hold, afraid to get his insane friend instead. Joshua, to this day, claims that it was all part of his plan.

DK/Seokmin: 1/10 but 1000/10 for the vibes

❀ DK is truly trying his best to get tickets for the concert he wants to go to. He has invited all his friends over to buy the tickets together. Everyone brings their own laptop to increase their chances of getting good seats. However, by the end of the night, it has kind of turned into a bit of a party.

❀ Initially, DK put on a playlist to decrease the tension and stress that everyone was feeling. That being said, as time passed, the tickets were kind of forgotten as it turned more and more into a karaoke session. Suddenly more and more people seemed to appear, somehow hearing of this dope party that was being held at DK’s. DK surely didn’t invite them, but the more, the merrier, right? He can’t help but feel like he is forgetting something as the night progresses, but it must probably not be that important.

❀ It hits him only the morning after. It is not completely hopeless, though. When DK goes online to share his funny anecdote with other fellow fans, he inevitably ends up charming someone who has a spare ticket. They end up inviting him along because, well, we all could use some little DK in our life.

Mingyu: 7.5/10

❀ He thinks he is really good at finding resell tickets for cheap. What he doesn’t know, however, is that everyone takes one good look at his profile pic and decides to risk it all. Unknowingly, Mingyu has broken up a lot of friendships with his posts innocently asking whether anyone has a ticket to spare.

❀ He has no idea that concerts are essentially all dates. The other person always treats him so nicely. They get him food, flowers and give him so many compliments. Honestly, he doesn’t understand how people can be so pessimistic about the world. Look at how many wonderful people are in it, treating him so kindly.

❀ Unfortunately for those who intend the concert to be a date and the start of a new relationship, he is too oblivious to see it as such. At the end of the concert, he will simply shake their hand and thank them for the fun night, never to contact them ever again. Still, nobody gets truly upset about the outcome. His obliviousness is kind of charming.

The8/Minghao: 5/10

❀ It is all up to faith. Does he understand the Korean on the website? No. As a result, Minghao has decided to make peace with whatever comes out of the ticket buying experience. He has meditated quite a bit before the tickets go on sale, trying to tell himself that it won’t bother him if he doesn’t get the tickets. He is cool, calm and collected.

❀ He makes all his decisions based on a coin flip. Is he struggling to choose between two zones? Coin flip. Should he click the first or second option for insurance? Coin flip. He has a very pretty dice that he can roll for the choices with multiple options. In other words, Minghao puts his trust completely in the universe so that he doesn’t have to admit that he has no idea what he is doing. Honestly, the method allows him to, at the very least, make quick decisions regardless of the outcome. Consequentially, he outspeeds everyone else on the website.

❀ Does it work? Half of the time. Sometimes the universe seems to be favouring him, giving him incredible seats. Other times he is sitting in the nosebleeds, squinting at the stage as he is trying to make out the artist. He comforts himself with the thought that he is there for the music, not the visual experience.

Seungkwan: 9/10

❀ Welcome to Seungkwan’s military mission to get concert tickets. Drill Sergeant Boo has decided that he will be assembling the best team to get the concert tickets he desires, and there will be nothing stopping him. Not only did he insist on everyone meeting up at the place with the best Wi-Fi, but he also made an entire overview of the best zones and seats, including information on which seats tend to sell out the fastest.

❀ He has set five alarms for when the tickets go on sale, and if anyone dares to goof off, they will meet an early grave. This is a life-or-death situation! Sergeant Boo has no time for those that slack off or test his patience. If you are not taking this seriously, you do not deserve to see Adele in concert.

❀ Let’s just hope that he gets his tickets through regular ticket sales because if not, he will set up an intelligence mission in order to find out as much tea as he can on someone to blackmail them into handing over their tickets. Is it legal? Not really, no, but all is fair in love and war or when Beyoncé tickets are on the line.

Vernon 8/10

❀ Getting tickets is really no problem for Vernon. All he has to do is connect himself to the internet. He is an AI/NPC, after all. It is incredibly easy; all he has to do is hack into the system and get the tickets before they even go on sale.

❀ Okay, okay, all jokes aside, Vernon, with his refined music taste, mostly attends obscure bands. He is not even snobby about it; he genuinely enjoys their experimental music. Most of the time, the band's tickets do not sell out because the band is, well, questionable at best. Wait, you have not heard of Order of the Metaphysical Rat? They are really good! What about the Tree Rioting Bishops? No? Well, he had a blast at their last concert; you should totally join next time.

❀ Occasionally, he stumbles onto real gems, bands that are on the up-and-coming and about to blow up. He somehow manages to attend their concert at the right time, and when he checks the tickets the next year, they've tripled in price.

❀ However, more often than not, the concerts he attends are an… experience. Dancing Politics truly was something special with their remixing of political speeches, and his ears are still ringing from the Screaming Orchestra. He doesn't understand why none of the other members want to join him.

Dino/Chan: -1000/10

❀ He is incredibly determined to get the tickets, but Dino has a massive problem: he is a boomer at heart. He is not hip and happening and has no idea how this whole process of buying tickets works. What do you mean that they do not physically mail concert tickets any more?

❀ To be honest, he was kind of hoping one of the other members would take him instead. This whole concept of the internet is truly beyond him. He literally just figured out how the landline works; he blinked twice, and suddenly there is something called the internet.

❀ Somehow, in his attempt to get tickets, he clicks on the wrong thing, and now his computer has crashed. He has no idea how he managed it, but it is refusing to respond. So now he's paying for a hefty bill to get his computer fixed instead of the tickets.

❀ It gets even worse when he trusts a Nigerian Prince emailing him that he has some tickets to resell. Yeah… Dino gets scammed out of a lot of money. It is safe to say that the other members have decided that he no longer gets to shop online.

masterlist

#seventeen #svt #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen reactions #seventeen scenarios #svt x reader #svt imagines #svt fanfic #seventeen fanfic #scoups #choi seungcheol #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #joshua hong #svt joshua #svt jun #moon junhui #wen junhui #hoshi #kwon soonyoung #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #woozi #lee jihoon #dk #dokyeom #lee seokmin #mingyu #kim mingyu

[iridescentparkers]

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

vanilla palm trees → four - salted caramel kisses

summary ⇢ it’s been years, he should get over it, right? but, peter just can’t. he looks up, he sees her. he goes to bed, he dreams of her. he wakes up, he can smell her. he goes out one night and he sees…her. no, not gwen but his ticket to stop moping around on the anniversary of her death. what is meant to be one quick night of putting sadness on the back burner, is now a blossoming new love that feels all too perfect for peter. was this new woman in his life meant to be? or was this just another set of poorly dealt cards that would leave him walking away empty handed. all or nothing, right? ↝ college!au ↝ one night stand gone wrong trope | masterlist

parings ⇢ tasm!peter parker x female reader

warnings ⇢ alcohol use, lots of mentions of death, sexual themes

a/n ⇢ this one is long - 2.5k words, but i think its my favorite so far!!!!! also please lmk what you guys think in my inbox!

“YOU’RE GLOWING,” Harry teased as Peter shut their apartment door last weekend.

Peter Parker found himself slightly swooned by his evening guest. Days would pass, and Peter would find himself daydreaming like a schoolgirl about when he would see her again. The only problem was he forgot to get her number.

Shit. 

He would sit on his couch and open his laptop, watching as the search engine glared back at him. Think, what would be the best place to start? 

The Trenton! 

That has to be her last name. Duh! And what do you know, a Y/N Trenton does exist! Thousands of results show up. You name it, it's there. Even old news articles.

Should he message her on Facebook? No, she’s older but not 40.

Instagram. Great. On his computer, he sees that she has 10k followers and 162 posts. 

Wow. She’s stunning. He shouldn’t, but he scrolls a bit, finding some old photos. Dozens from her USC days where she had blunt bangs and florescent pink lip color. 

Scrolling down, he clicked on one of her at a college party. He scrolled through the page to see the five other pictures on the post until he eventually stopped. The photos were covered in a golden filter, with Y/N practically devouring this one dude's face. 

Maybe not devouring, but she looks pretty happy kissing his face. He was blonde, with light eyes, nothing like Peter. It stung a bit, but it was from 6 years ago. It couldn’t mean anything now. 

But what in the world was he going to say to her? Peter was so lost, he never had to slide into a girl's DM’s. Eww, it was so odd to think about that. 

“Hey,” he typed out before deleting it, maybe three times with varying amounts of y’s and e’s. 

Then there was “Hi,” or “Hiiiiiii,” or “Sup girl.” No, please do not think like Harry. 

“Hi, Y/N. Remember me? Would you like to meet up for lunch this Thursday?”

“That seemed relatively normal. Right?” He murmured under his breath but, he scratched his head as the pondering developed into pure confusion.

“And, send,” Harry announced after hovering over the couch and Peter’s shoulder to send the DM. 

“Harry!” Peter shouted. “Why the hell would you send that?”

Harry grabbed the laptop after hopping over the couch and Peter snarled as he sat by him. 

“I’m just doing you a favor?”

“Really? First, you tell me to put myself out there, which I do. Next, you butt into my personal life, sending messages that I have no idea were a good idea or not! I mean, why can’t you just leave me alone? What if she doesn’t want to see me again!”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Harry smiled, watching the screen from his lap.

“How the hell would you know?”

“Just see for yourself,” he announced as he turned the laptop around. There sat a reply, 2 seconds ago from Y/N.

“I’d love to.” It read, and Peter smiled to himself for his sweet date this week.  

“You’re welcome.”

“HOW’S SCHOOL?” Y/N asked, walking down the New York City street.

“Hard,” Peter informed, walking alongside her. “Finals are coming up before the break, so I’m studying as much as I can before the weekend is over.”

She nodded, turning her body sideways as she slid between moving bodies. 

“Wow, this is so cool!” She smiled, running up to the nearby paper stands. “The new Spiderman comics. My brother loves them, but I have never seen them in person.”

Peter giggles at her fascination with the book, watching as she flips through the colorful pages. “I never read them, but I always see them on the corner.” 

Peter raised his brows as he gazed at the array of colorful printed books, “Wow, there are hundreds of them.”

“I know, but he always gets them as soon as they come out, or they sell out quickly.” She informed as she closed the book. “I’m talking like he’s a 10-year-old kid. He's a little older than you.” 

He laughed, pulled out his wallet, and gave the cashier some change. Her mouth gaped as he executed the gesture, Peter then putting a small hand in front of her. "I insist. What do you think about Spiderman?”

Y/N looked between Peter and the book, her brows furrowing as she looked at Peter, “I think the work he does is cool. I don’t know much about him, but people love him.” 

"Mostly."

"Yeah, but I feel like those who dislike him are just mad at the fact that they don't have super cool web lasers that shoot from their arms," she laughed, making arm gestures to imitate the hero with her hands, and Peter then laughed. "He's making an impact on the city."  

Y/N gestured towards the printed comic in hand, looking at Peter’s expression, “Like at The Trenton, a local artist is doing a sculpture of multiple 3D spiderwebs layered with these comics and Spiderman newspapers.”

“I’d love to see it.” 

“You can. The only thing is, it won't be ready for another 3 weeks. I can take you to the opening,” she informed. “I will say, I think a lot about who he is. Is he a rogue cop? Some sort of scrawny underdog?” 

She spoke as she began putting the book in her bag as Peter paid the cashier. “Whoever he is, I think he’s a hero.” 

He felt a bit flattered at her sentiment, smiling as he listened to her interest in him as what she called “a hero.” Those words left the mouths of few but when they did, Peter filled with gratitude.

The phone in his pocket began to buzz, and Peter lifted it into his palm, “Damn it.” 

"What time is it?"

"A little past one." 

“What’s wrong?”

“I need to make this cake for a friend, and my Aunt says she can’t come over to help me later.” He informed. 

“I could help.”

He bit the inside of his cheek, placing his phone back in his pocket as he hesitated, “Sure.” 

THEY FOUND THEIR WAY BACK TO PETER’S APARTMENT, Y/N giggling as she placed her bag down. “And you thought that was okay?”

Peter rubbed his nose, curling his lips as breathy chuckles fearfully left his lips, “I was 14 and thought the frosted tips were a ‘look.’” 

“It was definitely... a look.” She said, widening her eyes, moving them across the apartment  “Last time we were here, we uh…”

“Yeah,” he laughed, his eyes squinting as they met hers and laughed in a delightful unison. “I could use a drink. Beer?”

“You have nothing else in this house to drink?” She laughed, “College boys, I swear.”

“What can I say?” He shrugged, walking over and opening the door to his fridge.

“I’ll take one.”

“And I’ll get this recipe open. Feel free to look around.” 

Y/N moved around the apartment, looking at shelves and trinkets of stored memories between Peter and his roommate. Some shared, and others individualized. She moved to one of their bookshelves, grazing her fingers along the spines of varying albums and books on their shelf. She stopped at the one bright pink book, resting in the corner and drowning in the bland sea of book covers. 

The hot pink album was coated with foam stickers and glitter, some getting on the shelf and Y/N’s hands as she opened the book. 

Flipping to the first page, there sat a picture of Peter receiving a kiss from a girl with platinum blond bangs and pale skin, her fingers painted a baby pink nail color. 

“Who’s this?” 

Peter swallowed, as he placed two beers on the counter. “Gwen.”

“Why do you have this album with her in it?” 

Her tone wasn’t mad, more curious for his answer, “She made it for me when we were together.”

“And you still have it?”

“She passed,” he informed, raising his brows as his hands slid into his front pockets. “Around 6 years ago.”

“Oh.”

“Oh.” He repeated, looking at the book in her hands. 

“I overstepped.” She stated, closing the book and placing it back on the shelf. 

He shrugged as his lips began to curl further inward on his mouth, “I said you could look around.”

It remained silent as Peter settled more ingredients on his center kitchen aisle, Y/N creeping closer in delicate footsteps, careful in their newfound silence. She sat on the barstool in his kitchen, folding her hands carefully into a neat knot in front of her.

Peter reaches for and guzzles his open beer. He locks his eyes on the ingredients, his long lashes fluttering as the cold liquid slides down his throat. Peter places the empty bottle on his counter, speaking softly as the beer bubbles build in his chest. “Why don’t we make a cake?”

“Okay,” she nods, revealing her smile as she moves to Peter’s side. “What kind?”

“It’s weird, I know, but salted caramel.” He stated, and she jutted her neck backward. “Exactly.”

“Where should I start?”

Peter swiftly travels to the speaker on his bookshelf, blasting rock music and nodding as the beats echo inside his apartment. Y/N’s head finds the beat as the song rushes beats over her stance. 

They whisk themselves around the kitchen, taking turns putting ingredients in the wet and dry bowls as the rhythm picks up under them. Peter reaches for three more drinks, the bottles clinking as they pile up in his trash can, and he wipes his lips free of the smeared alcohol. 

“I didn’t take you for a dancer?" She chuckled as he shook his head on her face, his brown locks tickling her features. 

“Me neither,” he yelled, lifting his head as his words fought with the blasting music. 

With each bottle, his moves got sloppier, and Y/N laughed each time a new move developed in his repertoire. Smiling, his eyes crinkled as he jounced his chest to the down beats of the song. Y/N laughs at his lack of rhythm, and Peter pulls her by her arm to his chest. He whisked Y/N to the kitchen island, swirling her in the air, and settling her down next to the now-panned cake batter. 

He leaned in close, kissing her lips, the wheaty beer taste sizzling on her lips. The kiss was sloppy but sensual as his tongue dipped into her mouth. He pulled her in deeper as his hand slung down to her lower waist, Y/N then pulled away as the oven beeped behind them. 

“The oven,” Y/N whispered as she pulled away. “You should put the cake in.” 

“Right, the cake.”

“WATER?” Peter asked, throwing his body next to Y/N on the couch.

She gave him a knowing look, playfully shoving him as he sat, “You first.”

“Pfft,” he waved, sinking his body on the furniture. “I’m fine.”

His words slurred as his drunken eyes wandered to Y/N’s figure. ”Peter, are sure?” 

He huffed, pointing a finger to his bookcase, “That girl, Gwen. The one you saw earlier in the scrapbook…”

“Her favorite was salted caramel...everything. Salted caramel coffee, salted caramel chocolate, salted caramel ice cream, and especially salted caramel cake. She had it for her birthday every year.” 

“And when is her birthday?”

“Tomorrow.” 

Her lips formed a thin line as she scratched the open part of her chest. She immediately nodded as she pushed her legs from her chest, Peter moving his eyes down her body.  “I don’t want your pity.” 

She raised her brows as she chuckled, the air seeping through her teeth, “I wasn’t going to give you any. Why would you think that?”

“Everyone does.” He wavered. “They all want to tell me where I need to be, when to go out, when to...date. When to talk about her, when not to talk about her.” 

“I mean this, truly, in the nicest way.” She began, placing a hand on his leg. “You said it's been 6 years? Why do you still care about what others think?”

“Because I don’t have much family left,” he informed, slurring his words as he flailed his loose arms in the air. “I need to make them happy.”

“You don’t need to, you want to.” She corrected. “And if they truly loved you, as long as you are happy, they wouldn’t care. At all.” 

“You’re right.” he trailed, “But, I’m not happy. You’re the first date I’ve had in 6 years.”

“You were in high school!” Y/N exclaimed, hitting the back of her hand gently on his shoulder. 

He shrugged,  “I still could have put myself out there in college.”

“Not everyone finds the love of their life in high school and college. Believe me.”

“What does that mean?”

Y/N pursed her lips as she looked towards her feet, “Nothing.”

Peter put a hand on her knee, leaning closer to her figure, “Tell me.”

“I was engaged to a man I met in college,” she began, glancing vaguely at the left hand in her lap. “About three months ago, he died in a car crash.”

Was it the guy from her pictures?

Peter’s expression softened as he reached for her hand, pulling it to his. “M’Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” she began, her voice softening as she avoided eye contact “I found out, the day I met you, he was having an affair with his secretary. And now, she’s asking for some of his things because she claims, 'he loved her too.'” 

 “Y/N”

“Like you said, I don’t want your pity. I’m okay.” 

“I’m too drunk to give pity,” he slurred, drooping his head to her knees, inhaling as he leaned on her body, forcing her to drop her knees, and his head fell in her lap. She ran a gentle hand along his head, rubbing it slowly along his head.

He lazed in the physical contact, before grabbing her hand from his head. He pulled it to his chest, moving it to the cadence of his soft speech, “Vanilla.” 

“What?” she questioned. 

“You smell like her. Gwen,” he began, raising her hand to his nose and inhaling her scent, “Gwen used to wear some perfume. I forgot the name. I think it was like Vanilla Palm Tree or some sugary scent. I only remember she always smelt like Vanilla mixed with…beach.”

She chuckled awkwardly, letting go of his grasp, “Vanilla mixed with beach? Peter, you are drunk.”

“No no,” he assured as his eyes fluttered shut. “It’s… It’s Vanilla Palm Tree.”

“I should leave.”

“It’s why I stayed and brought you home from the bar…”

Y/N felt as the smoke smell rushed through her airways, “You don’t smell that?”

“Smell…smell what..” he muttered as his limbs went limp.

“Peter!” 

Grey lines of smoke trailed the ceiling of his apartment, and Y/N shot up to Peter’s kitchen, “Lightweight...”

#peter parker fic #peter parker x you #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fluff #peter parker x y/n #peter parker #peter parker x reader #spiderman x you #peter parker smut #peter parker fandom #peter parker spiderman #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfic #peter parker au #tasm peter #tasm!peter parker #tasm 2 #tasm!peter x you #the amazing spider man #tasm!peter x reader #tasm peter parker #spiderman homecoming #andrew!peter parker #andrew!peter x reader #andrew garfield #tasm fanfiction #tasm #tasm fic #tasm! peter parker x reader #tasm!peter imagine

[bellybiologist]

Tallying up the Year

I hope you guys' december (which is almost over already, wtf) is going/has gone well! 2024 is upon us.

This christmas weekend, I mostly found myself thinking about how this year went, and honestly? despite all the things I haven't gotten to do, I still managed to accomplish quite a lot.

Me typing this rambly post out is less anything anyone needs to read, but more to remind myself of Things That Got Done™ than anything else because sometimes... I forget I do be getting shit done! And it's important we remind ourselves of the work we do.

The Things That got Done™

I advocated for my own Health. I scheduled (and went to!) so many doctor and dental appointments this year, holy shit. But, if the last few years have taught me anything, I simply have to put in the effort. I got my colon mostly sorted out, started a new regimen for my skin and hair (after chopping it off) so I'm feeling better, schedule an appointment with the optometrist in January, and even got lots of issues with my teeth fixed. Granted, our broken medical system made it incredibly stressful, and i spent thousands of dollars on the latter that I will be paying off til next july BUT!!!! This section is about the good things.

Started Streaming Again! I've been missing streaming since I stopped way back in I believe 2020. It was a fun way to interact with followers and supporters, so I'm glad I'm back to it on a regular schedule, with many of the old regulars still joining me while I work. Speaking of which:

I finished 43 total stream doodles. While I'm only filling a handful a month, it's definitely adding up! 40+ boys in the span of 5 months is nothing to scoff at, and that's not even considering that I'm doing this alongside normal patreon work.

I finished 39 total commissions this year. I'm definitely still going quite slowly, and I thank everyone who has been extraordinarily patient thus far, but I'm happy to say that my pace has been decent... at least relative to previous years. I got more done in the last 5 months than i did in the roughly year and a half period before 2023!

Replaced SEVERAL appliances that broke down. My computer moniter, my microwave, my refrigerator... all failed on my this year, and it took some work, but I finally managed to get them all replaced! So far, everything is working fine, but next on my agenda is to save up for a new desktop. This one I use for work has been at it since 2017, and it's about time to look into upgrading.

My Google Drive is Looking Nice. It's still not perfect, but I'm still immensely proud of how it's shaping up. There's still some curating of older pieces to do, but I've found a stride where I'm regularly updating it for people to peruse.

=====

Now despite these W's, I still got a long way to go. The things below could be considered resolutions for 2024, but that feels cursed to call them that. They are simply:

Things I Want to GET Done

Adding more YCH Figures. I was definitely expecting to have more to choose from by this point. And I really need to update some of the older ones too, because I think they've aged poorly. I got some neat suggestions and hopefully will find some time this week to showcase them in my discord to collect some feedback before releasing them.

Do more involved pieces/projects. I want to do more things like Comics, or simply pieces that I work on over the course of several sittings, ones where I can experiment and fiddle and practice!!! I rarely ever get to do that these days (I've only finished a few Big Personal Pieces this year), and I need to find time and energy to do them more because those are the things that truly make me feel like I grow as an artist. (and maybe I can find a shading style I actually fucking tolerate.). I also want to get more OC development and stuff done too, cuz I really didn't draw my children a whole lot this year!

Make more fucking Money!!!!! Let's not kid ourselves. I want to get to a point where I'm not just barely meeting the monthly quota. How to get there? I don't know, honestly. Things are so very stacked against artists right now, so it really does feel like the only thing that can be done is Not Give Up. Which I won't do. If/when I go down, I'm making it everyone else's problem. Trust. 😏

Save up to Visit the Boyfriend. I haven't seen him since January 2022! Big goal is to be comfortable enough to where I can fly my ass up there and smooch him. 👏🏽

======

I won't lie, i'm going into 2024 quite anxious and still scraping by by the skin of my teeth (that I'm still paying for). It's going to be a BIG year cuz oh boy, it's election year, there's plenty of family developments i gotta keep an eye on and work to be a part of... not to mention all the horrible stuff going on still (free palestine!).

Here's hoping shit goes our way this coming year! And let's get ,more strikes going so everyone is getting their fucking money!!! :V

#verzi rambles #god 2024 is a BIG year for lots of reasons

[slashyrogue]

Au-Gust 2023 Day 5: Pet Sitters

Will had a problem. 

He had another teaching conference next week, his third in six months, and he had to be out of town for almost four days. 

And all the pet sitters refused to take his pack. 

Will knew it was his own fault, he may have been a little strict with a few sitters in the past and gotten angry at the slightest mistake, but this was his pack. 

His family. 

He wasn’t gonna just let anyone take them. 

Which was why he finally caved and went to PamperedPooch.com. 

PamperedPooch.com was a very expensive pet sitting site where the creme de la creme of society found their pet sitters. The cheapest sitter was almost five hundred dollars a day, not even counting overnight, and as he made his account he made sure to be polite while he posted pictures of the pack. 

Well trained pack of seven dogs very used to pet sitters. 

May need overnights for four consecutive days. 

Send message below. 

He waited, chewing his lip, and after thirty minutes he went to let the dogs out thinking maybe he could make an excuse to his boss that he had to miss this one. 

Not that Jack would be happy with him. 

It wasn’t his first. 

Will ate lunch and came back to the computer where he found several messages asking for astronomical prices that he deleted immediately. Then he got to the last message and as he read the sitter’s reply he smiled. 

Hello Will

I am a very experienced pet sitter who has worked in the profession for nearly ten years. I can handmake all your pack’s food - following my own or a provided recipe of your choice - and I will if need be take them to my home if I cannot stay at yours. I will need to be provided adequate ingredients ahead of schedule for their meals but will make my own. For four days I would charge one thousand dollars. 

Please tell me if you’d like to meet in person or we can talk over the phone. 

I look forward to your reply. 

Hannibal Lecter

Will answered back fast, feeling so happy he could burst, and agreed to meet Hannibal later for coffee. He went to give the dogs treats, still smiling, and got himself together putting a nice shirt and some clean jeans before he headed out for the city. 

He got there early, the shop a little pricey but not overly, and looked around waiting for Hannibal to arrive. 

And froze as a man in an Armani suit started to walk towards him. He blushed, looking the man over with way too obvious interest. 

It couldn’t be. 

The man paused in front of Will and pulled out the dog bone they’d agreed upon to show who they were. 

“Hannibal?” 

Hannibal Lecter smiled and held out his hand. 

“Hello, Will.” 

Will blushed as he took the man’s hand, and found himself almost uncomfortable with how good looking he was. He never would’ve guessed this man was a pet sitter. A doctor maybe? A model? Not a pet sitter. 

“So…I…” 

“What is it you do, Will?” 

He blinked. “What? I…I don’t know why that matters.” 

Hannibal leaned forward and smiled. “I’m merely curious. You’re not my usual clientele.” 

Will blushed. “I’m a Biology teacher.” 

“Ah,” Hannibal said, as a woman came over, “A man after my own heart. I will have a Americano, three sugars please. Will?” 

Will looked at her. “Um, a black coffee four sugars.” 

She smiled, and Will was surprised to see her unusual name. 

Mischa. 

“Coming right up,” she said, winking at Hannibal who just smiled back. 

Will frowned. “She…” 

“That is my sister,” Hannibal said with a sigh, “She’s much younger than me and likes to…observe my meetings.” 

Will smiled. “That’s…kinda cute.”

“Is it? One would think the older sibling would be the more protective. Mischa is barely out of her twenties and treats my job like every client may be a secret serial killer.” 

He laughed. “You never know.” 

Hannibal smiled. “No, I suppose you don’t,” he said, looking at Will oddly, “So…ask me anything, Mr. Graham. I’m all yours for the next several hours. What do you need to think of me as a potential pet sitter?” 

Will blushed again. “I…I just…I’m a little picky, that’s all. I’ve ran myself off of so many sites and I…” 

“You love your dogs, Will, that’s not a bad thing. What scared all of them away?” 

He sighed. “I want everything perfect, that’s all.” 

Mischa returned and put the cups down in front of them, eyeing Will the same odd way Hannibal did. “Anything else, guys?” 

“Just privacy.” 

She laughed. “Yeah, not gonna happen. I’ll be…over there.” 

Will watched her go, her blonde hair so different from Hannibal’s and, he smiled at him. 

“So…you’ll do anything I ask of you then? Anything at all?” 

“Yes. Perhaps, I can come to your home and meet the pack to see how they like me. Would that ease your worries?” 

Will frowned. “I…I guess so.” 

“Wonderful,” Hannibal said, pulling out his phone, “Give me your address and we can set this all up as soon as possible. I….I really am looking forward to meeting them and…working for you, Will.” 

Will wiggled in his seat. 

This was a bad idea. 

Very, very bad. 

But he took Hannibal’s phone and gave him his info, feeling Hannibal’s eyes on him the whole time before he handed it back. 

“I think maybe you might be my ideal dog sitter,” he said, laughing nervously, “It’s like you were made for me.” 

Hannibal smiled as he sipped his drink. 

“You seem like the ideal client,” he said, “Perhaps…we were made for each other.” 

Will blushed again. 

“Maybe.” 

#au gust 2023 #hannigram au #pet sitter hannibal #smitten kitten will #fluff

[pastelpressmachine]

Never Have I Ever Season 3 is a hot mess (warning: spoilers)

After watching the third and final (?) season of Netflix’s Never Have I Ever, I am convinced that the writer’s room was arguing about which feedback to take in based on reception of the previous two seasons. I imagine people wanted to toss out and throw in as much as possible, with little consideration for the fact that there are only going to be 10 episodes that are 30 minutes long. You can’t introduce complicated conflicts and rely on time lapses to convey the passage of time and processing of change. It felt like a lazy, rushed group project.

Even though I understand that you can’t please everyone with your art/productions and even though I recognize important changes being attempted, season 3 fell flat and jumped the shark a handful of times. I almost wish it got a season 4 just to redeem itself and follow Devi Vishwakumar’s senior year. But I gave it two additional chances already to redeem itself from the stereotype-laden first season.

The show continues to center on Devi’s desire to lose her virginity before entering college, and now that she has snagged the boyfriend of her dreams, she faces the anxiety of actually engaging in sex. This was portrayed as authentically as it could be because the first time can be a nerve-wracking experience, especially when it feels like an expectation to sustain someone’s interest. When Devi sabotages her relationship via her own insecurity about her worthiness to be Paxton’s girlfriend, she shows how prolonged skepticism about what he sees in her, ultimately ruins her relationship. She gets in her own head and doesn’t trust that you can be loved for who you are. Even when she pushes her boyfriend to be ambitious, responsible, and accountable, she gets in her own way by not enjoying the best of what her relationship has to offer with Paxton repeatedly having to reassure her that he does find her attractive and they don’t owe anybody explanations for their relationship. But the power of unaddressed low self-esteem brought on by bullying, gossip, and internalized racism can fog up anyone else’s attempts at clarity, as we come to see. I was a bit annoyed, though, with Devi’s eventual post-break up acceptance of going back to being a “nerdy Indian virgin”. I can’t believe the writers chose to insert that into another season.

Satellite narratives were also messy and not given enough screen time or development.

There was so much more opportunity to explore the nuances of Manish and Kamala’s relationship, especially with Manish being less connected to Indian culture, which bothers Kamala’s grandmother as she perceives him and his family as people who gave up on thousands of years of generational culture. This is a real point of contention in Indian families. Arranged marriages to someone who will carry on the culture generations were raised on is a major stressor for a lot of contemporary desi women. Manish is just as Indian as someone who doesn’t speak one of the country’s dialects or practices all of the traditions.

Male characters being emotionally vulnerable and sharing when they feel insecure was great to see, and so underplayed considering they salvaged their own relationships with healthy communication!

Des was introduced as a hot Indian guy who thankfully called out Devi’s preconceived notion that he was going to be a socially awkward loser and he didn’t have time for another one of those Indian girls who “only likes white guys, and thinks all Indian guys are computer geeks or cheesy club rats who wear too much cologne”. (She denies it, even though it’s true, and this is one of the few moments I seriously connected with Devi because I’ve had this exact interaction with a Indian guy who called me out for having a white boyfriend.) As a teenager, I remember thinking the best thing I could do for my assimilation and acceptance was to have a white boyfriend and have sex. Even though this proved untrue, South Asian girls aren’t perceived in media as attractive or desirable or head-turning popular kids. So your association with those who are, when you are an insecure, misunderstood adolescent, feels like a solution.

Des and Devi’s relationship could have been an example of young, healthy, successful brown love, but they don’t make it. And I’ll give it to the show -- the reason why is pretty representative: the boyfriend doesn’t stand up to his mother’s judgments of his girlfriend. (This happens a lot with the mama’s boys of desi culture.)

Speaking of Des’s mom, Rhyah, I was so certain that the way she was inserting herself into Nalini’s life and asking her about her Valentine’s Day plans was because there was going to be a lesbian romance explored between the two moms! Why couldn’t the shock of finding out your moms are queer/dating be what made Des and Devi decenter each other as love interests?

I also appreciated the seamless introduction of a nonbinary/gender-fluid character (who is never really stated explicitly as such, which is great because it can be so cringey and contrived when that becomes a chunky plot point). They just slow-mo walk into the room with Des and his friend, Parker, and immediately catch the eye of Fabiola, who has just entered a new relationship with Aneesa who surprise-kissed her in the bathroom after a soccer game that her boyfriend at the time (Ben) wasn’t even paying attention to because he was wrapped up in Devi shenanigans again. Yeah. There are major relationship shifts happening in the span of individual episodes, with little room to explore the characters’ development of their own identities in relation to themselves and each other.

Devi gets into a prestigious boarding school towards the end of the season and spends time going back and forth between her decision to attend, which involves considering the factors of leaving her mom (after losing her dad and knowing life is short and unpredictable), leaving her friends (right before senior year), leaving her enemies-to-friends-to-lovers-to-enemies-to-friends relationship with Ben, and risking entering college as a “virgin-loser”, which remains a pretty big conflict for her despite everything else that has happened in the past two years/three seasons. Paxton somehow graduates, makes a heartfelt speech, including a thank you to Devi, and they seem to have found closure. Again, this is so rushed. You end up at the last day of school with no context other than the John McEnroe narration telling you so. And people are just dropping confessions and truth-bombs and alluding to other possibilities, in the last episode of a show that is supposedly ending.

The show concludes with something both anticlimactic and probably exactly what a lot of viewers wanted. The priorities revolving senior year and sex that are consuming Devi’s young life end up sorting themselves out, even if done in a frantic fashion.

I don’t know how official it is that Never Have I Ever isn’t getting a fourth season, but if they are, there is room to clean up storylines and answer a lot of questions that just weren’t given satisfying answers with this finale:

Does the back and forth between Devi and Ben finally come to a halt?

Does Trent (the character carrying the comedic part of this sitcom) become a more central character as he repeats senior year while Paxton goes off to college?

Were Aneesa’s compatibility results with the “random freshman” even true, and do we get to see her navigate her protective mom, strict Muslim/South Asian upbringing, comparatively lower level of excitement/enthusiasm to work rigorously to get into an Ivy League college, eating disorder (that came up in season 2 and was never brought up in season 3), and newly discovered queerness? She had so much to her character that was just given a blip in random episodes.

You can’t just introduce a new South Asian character every season, throw some love triangles here and there, and think you’ve had a successful run. Season 3 felt like a rough draft to me, and I wanted to believe that each season was trying to improve on itself and take in critiques or reconsiderations, which is why I kept watching.

I don’t pick apart shows that are largely marketed for their South Asian representation for any other reason than wanting stories to be representative, celebratory, and layered with nuance that is intentionally crafted and explored. If anything, I also develop the ability to push my own review writing and ideas for my creative South Asian centered work. Sometimes, I even imagine myself in the room with these producers and writers, framing my feedback for the benefit of everyone - the success of the show, the enjoyment of the audience, the impact of the story, and the experience of the team involved. I might be sounding over-ambitious to anyone who thinks I don’t have the credentials to be sat in that kind of room. But because productions like this matter to me, because I’ve studied this field, and created my own work that just doesn’t have an agent or money or all of my time backing it right now, of course I will channel the energy/time I do have into the hobby of review-writing and hoping posts like this stumble across someone who is changed, informed, and motivated by it. Will that person be a studio exec? I don’t know. I’m not writing off the possibility, though.

The final of Never Have I Ever just seemed like since maybe the creators knew this was the last season, they simply shrugged and threw something together because they started to care less about something that didn’t have a chance at getting picked up for another season anyways. And I would’ve liked for it to have been created and treated with the excitement and intention of a revolutionary pilot every single time. I think that’s the energy that needs to be behind projects that are doing cool things for the first time, like putting a young South Asian lead at the heart and center of a show with a huge, impressionable audience.

Edit/Disclaimer: I wrote this before reading an article about Mindy Kaling announcing Never Have I Ever had been renewed for a fourth and final season, stating one of the reasons was “the actors get older and it starts looking insane that a 34 is playing a 15 year old”, which by the way, was always insane. It was insane that a 30 year old was playing a 16 year old alongside a 19 year old actress playing a 15 year old. I can’t. 

#never have i ever #devi vishwakumar #paxton hall yoshida #maitreyi ramakrishnan #never have i ever season 3 #netflix

[jcmarchi]

The Sequence Chat: Jeff Bussgang – Flybridge Capital, Harvard Business School, About Investing in Generative AI

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/the-sequence-chat-jeff-bussgang-flybridge-capital-harvard-business-school-about-investing-in-generative-ai/

The Sequence Chat: Jeff Bussgang – Flybridge Capital, Harvard Business School, About Investing in Generative AI

A VC perspective about generative AI market trends, competitive landscape and startups in the space.

Quick bio

Tell us a bit about yourself: Your background, current role, and how you got started in artificial intelligence and venture capital. 

I was a computer science major at Harvard College and focused on AI and NLP. After graduation, I worked for two years at BCG and then went to Harvard Business School. After HBS, I joined a Series A startup called Open Market. After five years there (including an IPO in 1996), I cofounded a startup called Upromise. After three years there, I cofounded an early stage VC firm, Flybridge, with a few friends who had backed my previous two startups. My investment practice has been rooted in enterprise software, SaaS, and AI/ML. AI/ML has been a greater focus in the last few years.

🛠 AI Work  

Flybridge has been a very active early-stage investor in the generative AI space and has a long track record in enterprise software. Could you please elaborate on your investment thesis and vision? 

We believe the age of AI is as important, if not more so, than the age of the Internet, which I lived through as an entrepreneur and investor in recent decades. The foundation and platforms upon which our startups are building have become more and more powerful. As a result, the entrepreneurs we are investing in can leverage some extraordinary capabilities to solve problems today.

TheSequence is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

One of the most challenging questions when investing in generative AI is determining where the value will accrue in the long term. How do you differentiate potentially disruptive companies from mere features of other products powered by generative AI? 

We are focused on investing in startups that are staying close to customer needs and building on top of the platforms to create unique, differentiated solutions for both (1) vertical applications / uses cases; and (2) horizontal applications / use cases. Further, we are investing in (3) development tools that accelerate enterprise AI application development. Finally, we are investing in (4) new applications that could not have existed before the age of AI.

You can make a case that RLHF enabled the transition from GPT-3 to the mainstream ChatGPT phenomenon. What do you think is the next research breakthrough that can unlock the next wave of innovation in generative AI? 

I am not a researcher, but I am intrigued by the tuning of models that are particular and purpose built for a use case. The history of software is that, yes, horizontal tools can be powerful building blocks (e.g., compute, cloud, databases). But customized software – sometimes full stack – for specific use cases can also be the most useful way to solve a problem. I look forward to the next wave of GPT-based models that build on the foundational advancements but are purpose built.

One of the most intriguing frictions in the generative AI space is the balance between open-source and closed-source/API-based models. How do you see the evolution of these two distribution models over the next few years? Who will emerge as the winner in the end? 

Both! There will be hundreds of enterprise AI applications operating in each of thousands of companies. Just as the cloud is heterogeneous, just as databases are heterogeneous (and include open source platforms like our portfolio company MongoDB), the enterprise AI stack will be heterogeneous.

A lot of the large investments in generative AI have been in companies building massive foundation models. How far do you think the scaling laws can go in this area? Would we see LLMs that surpass $10B in pretraining/fine-tuning costs? 

I really don’t know. The scaling laws I had thought were in place seem to be no longer in place. The scale of the investment is simply extraordinary.

SaaS incumbents have been incredibly fast, arguably faster than any other tech trend in history, to incorporate conversational capabilities into their platforms. Would we see a new form of SaaS platforms built with generative AI from the ground up? How could that look? 

Yes. Existing SaaS franchises are under threat. Some will adapt. Others will be supplanted by native generative AI companies. We are entering an extremely volatile period of value creation and destruction.

The world today runs on established computing platforms such as the browser, cloud computing, and mobile phones, but you can make the case that any sufficiently disruptive tech trend in history can unlock a new computing platform. Could generative AI power a new generation of computing platforms? Give us an ambitious vision of that future. 

Yes. It will be exciting to see what new modalities emerge. Maybe goggles or some AR/VR capability. Maybe vehicles. Maybe devices we can’t yet imagine. It’s going to be fun.

💥 Miscellaneous – a set of rapid-fire questions 

Do you think there will be trillion-dollar native generative AI-based companies? If so, would you venture to predict that OpenAI will be one of them? 

Yes. OpenAI has a cap on its valuation so perhaps not them.

Which large tech incumbent (Apple, Microsoft, Google, Amazon, Meta) is more vulnerable to be disrupted by generative AI? 

All of them. Apple may be the least vulnerable as the phone form factor seems so enduring. Amazon next as their logistics infrastructure seems so enduring. Software-only businesses like Microsoft, Google, and Meta are very vulnerable to disruption.

What are the most significant mistakes that you see entrepreneurs making while building in the generative AI space? How about the most common mistakes investors make? 

Not moving fast enough to adjust to current market conditions.

Who is your favorite mathematician or computer scientist, and why? 

My father, Julian Bussgang, who passed away earlier this year. He invented the Bussgang Theorem, an important mathematical theorem in the field of signals, radar, and stochastic processing.

TheSequence is a reader-supported publication. To receive new posts and support my work, consider becoming a free or paid subscriber.

#ai #AI/ML #Amazon #API #apple #application development #applications #ar #artificial #Artificial Intelligence #background #browser #Building #Business #chatGPT #Cloud #cloud computing #Companies #computer #Computer Science #computing #computing platforms #databases #development #Development Tools #devices #disruption #enterprise #Enterprise Software #Evolution

[buccee]

Manifesto of Learning and Thinking.

Manifesto of Learning and Thinking.

Humans, learn and think! Do you want to live a better life? Learn and Think!

How many of you are living a happy life? If you are not happy, why so? Do you want to be happy? Then something has to be changed. Just complaining and wishing luck won't bring you happiness. You should go get your happiness. What is happiness? Achieving what you want? Do you think you'll be happy once you get what you want? Unless you change your point of view, you will repeat the cycle. If you're not suffering, then you are happy. Because your life is already full of happiness. We should learn how to be happy. Once we are happy, our world will get better.

What makes us suffer? What makes us feel sad, angry, and feared? Not having what we want, and not going as we want. What do we want then? We wanna survive. We wanna reproduce.

We are on a continuum of 4 billion years long self-replication. Imagine your past surviving and reproducing for 4 billion years. And now you ended up like this. What are you gonna do? I don't think there is a right answer. Maybe I just don't know it.

Let's find out more about the world. How did life begin in the first place? Did it really just start as specific molecules bond in specific ways in the specific situation? We should figure out what we are by discovering how we actually started, how we evolved, and how we will end up being. We can only know by constant thinking and learning. All the discoveries we have are by people who think and learn. You don't wanna just die, not even knowing what we are and what this world is. It's said our universe started from very small, it expanded, and all the matter combined with each other and formed stars and planets.

How did we end up having consciousness? What is even consciousness? Is consciousness coming from the brain? Then do all animals have consciousness? How does the brain make consciousness? The brain is made of atoms; then consciousness arises if certain atoms bond with each other in certain ways.

What was there before the big bang? Is there anything outside of the universe? Did the big bang just happen out of nowhere? Does the universe last forever? How long can humanity survive in the universe?

Human civilization started like ten thousand years ago, then what's it gonna be another ten thousand years later? I can't even imagine one thousand years later. could William the Conquerer imagine what it gonna be like in one thousand years? What happens a hundred thousand years later? How about a million, a hundred million, or a billion years later? Ten thousand years of human history is just a blink of an eye compared to billions of years of the history of the universe.

We're living in a historical era; computational intelligence is exponentially advancing, and in a decade, our world might face complete reform. In our lifetime, it is possible that humanity will finally discover ways to live forever with the help of AI. If so, after 4 billion of self-replication, we're the first mutations to survive forever. We might be able to see the future 100 years, 1000 years, million, or billion years later. What a historic moment it is. We might figure out what the universe is, what life is, and what consciousness is. It's gonna be an interesting journey. If we don't learn or think now, once the AI is utilized, a lot of people will end up in a 'useless class' and live like circus animals obeying what their food givers say. We should learn about the universe; we should learn about organisms. We should learn about the history of human civilization; we should learn about human psychology. We should learn how the world works so that we don't die like animals in the zoo. But we will jump out the gate and explore for free. We should learn and think!

P.S.

Some of my posts have themes of learning and thinking. My first About post talks about how curious I am and want to learn more about the world, and want to discover, which are learning and thinking. For the post Poem, I picked Fire and Ice by Robert Frost because he talks about the end of the world, whether it will end in fire or ice. It's good to think about our world in the long term, and personally, I hope neither is the case. The post "The AGI era" is a sci-fi fiction in the year 2030, which has a possible scenario in the future. We finally learn about the outer world and face a new journey.

#AggresiveForThePurposeOfManifesto

[beatsboy]

4.12

there are some things you don't know. i don't know if you've seen my spotify playlists about you. i don't know if you can feel the tension hanging between us as something much more than merely platonic or sexual. but i'm pretty sure you think i'm just a person who is your friend again, who you maybe had feelings for in the past, who only wanted to fuck. i know how it looks, and to be honest, if i explained it, i don't know that it would look any better in the full light, but i need to get it out, and i need to be honest with fucking someone in my life, even if it's my computer.

i fell in love with you the instant i met you. i didn't even have the money to take you out to brunch the next day, but i wanted to, so i did. i don't remember a lot from that night. we were pretty fucked up. but i do remember some things. i remember asking if i could put your dick inside of me (sorry lol). they'd done it in the trans porn i'd watched, so i thought it was okay. i was also borderline blackout drunk. my judgement wasn't its best. but i wanted you. i wanted every part of you i could fit in my hands, in my arms. to put it nicely, i was obsessed.

when i met you, though, i had just gotten out of three relationships, in a way. of course, there was JB, who i had just finally freed myself from after 5 long years of being hung up on a quite average white, cis, bicurious man. waiting for him to want to be with me for real again. we'd fucked around for a long time, pre and post breakup with my lookalike. i had spent so long wanting him and getting barely anything in return, and savoring every part of it. i had also just been ghosted by my two best friends of 5 years. and i still didn't fully understand what went wrong with addy and avery, but i knew i would make sure things were different with you, because i didn't want to fuck this up.

so i followed every rule, i kept myself at a safe distance. when you left me to be with someone else--a date, a lover, a partner, a flirt--i didn't complain, and i surely didn't show if i was jealous. right after we met, i went on a roadtrip with camilla. we spent hours alone in the car together, just the two of us. and i couldn't stop talking about you. you're the only one who really knows how much i've changed since i met you. you met me right at the start. i didn't know anyone who was doing this shit before i met you. i had just spent the last year or so withdrawing further into myself, denying and figuring things out at the same time. i became addicted to drugs, got fucked up every night in my room, spent all my time on tiktok. i looked the part in some ways at that point, but you were still the coolest person i had met in my life. and i was so content being your friend, being friends with a musician, with another person living in la, but a person who was doing things i actually liked.

i never wanted to move to la, not the la that avery showed me. when i visited her, we went to the grove, to bars like the den, got drunk in weho, wondering why i felt the innate need to run away. i never felt that way with you. but being here with you made me want to make this place my home. i'm getting off topic.

i'm writing this letter as a record of how i felt, in case i ever try to convince myself it happened differently in my head again.

this first part is to say that i wanted you so badly, i wanted you to be my girlfriend the minute i met you, but i didn't want to ask for too much. you were in a relationship. it was not poly at the time. you were open, though, so i took what i could get. i took late-night hookups after we went out. we used to do that all the time. and i was always afraid if i said something, it would break the spell and it would be over. the thing you don't know is how many poems, journal entries, and songs i wrote about how much it killed me to be the one you hooked up with here while you got to be in love with someone else thousands of miles away. if you were poly then, i might have told you how i felt. you had nic, though, and i knew that from the beginning. so i never let myself take it any further, not outside of my own head, anyway.

and then, you became poly. but at that point, i had met troy. i met a sweet, cute boy who kind of looked like a girl. and he was obsessed with me back. it felt so good to be with someone who wanted me so unashamedly, so limitlessly. i didn't have to compete with anyone else, i knew i was the best thing he'd ever had and probably ever would have. but i knew you didn't like it, not at first. or maybe that was in my head too. but i remember going to sour prom with you, jace, and troy (our second date) and i remember feeling your jealousy. i told myself that you were just jealous as a friend is when someone else steps in and takes their attention. but that was the first time i  wondered if maybe you'd had feelings for me too. but it was too late. i knew you were upset when we had the wedding. i remember talking to jace about it and him asking if i thought you were jealous. but you had addy, and you seemed happy about it eventually, and i had found someone who could be with me all the time.

have you ever wondered why troy and i became open and i never fucked anyone besides you? i missed you. i missed your body, kissing you--i missed the space between platonic and romantic. i missed the delusion i used to play in my head that maybe, way down the line, we would be together. i used to think that maybe if you and nic broke up, that we would be together. but by the time that happened, you already had two other partners. so, yeah, we only opened up our relationship so i could fuck you. and had a brief period of discussing the possibility of poly, because i wanted to be with you. and i thought maybe, i guess, if we were poly, that i could have both. i could finally have what i'd wanted since the moment i met you--you, and i could have troy to fill the spaces in between when i didn't have you. but that's not what happened.

this brings us closer to the end. you came over one night during this time, and i needed you. i needed support. i was going through it. but, as we know, this lasted a long time. and you were talking about dating apps and joann, and you got too high, and you weren't there for me. and i thought to myself, i need more from a partner. i wanted you, but i needed more. and i knew that. so i texted troy that night that i didn't want to try being poly. and i said a lot of reasons why. i said i just want to be with one person or whatever to you, but in reality, it was because i didn't think i could be in a relationship with you, and i didn't want to be poly to be with anyone else.

and why did i stay with him? why did i choose troy over taking the morsels you gave me? because he was there, because i couldn't have you.

to be continued.

#confessions #drama #relationshipdrama #inlovewithmybestfriend #queerrelationships #trans #transmasc #hookupstories #twinflame #deardiary #journal posting #raw truth

[deyadee]

The Most Terrifying Piece of Horror to Me was Taken Down

I am beyond furious. My favorite and most personally terrifying horror media has been taken down from YouTube and I’m so angry I can’t describe it.

I will not mention the specific story, as it’s pretty lesser-known on the whole of YouTube and other social media sites- and I’ve mentioned it frequently on the account I actually use to comment/interact/post outside of this rant and depression blog, so I will not say the name but it’s a webtoon and my favorite piece of horror media was a quiet reading of it by a small channel that I can’t find anymore.

It was a story of a fat girl who was constantly dieting but never losing weight griping about mukbangs at the beginning. Saying how much she hated watching them but she couldn’t stop watching because they were so addicting to her. But it was infuriating to see these borderline super-model-esque people gorging themselves on these immaculate feasts of greasy, fatty, sugary, oily, indulgent foods while continuing to seem so effortlessly perfect and beautiful. No matter how much they ate they were never insulted for being fat pigs or called disgusting- just an entire comment section of people saying “I wish I could eat that much” or “this makes me so hungry” or “You look so beautiful Lo-fu!” While if the main character were to eat that she’d go back to her previous weight and be seen as a disgusting slob.

I don’t watch mukbang because they make me feel uncomfortable watching someone eat, but I can more than relate to seeing thin and seemingly perfect looking people especially tiny thin girls with every last detail of them seemingly perfectly crafted by the gods to be the peak of cuteness and endearment eat ungodly amounts of food or extremely sweet indulgent things and being so envious that I could just snap their necks and bones like twigs. Not that I necessarily want to hurt them specifically or harm them just because they’re thing, just finally let out years of pent up rage and self-hatred out on the dozens of people that have looked on at me only in pity or disgust. I think I’d rather just break some 2x4s or take one of those crash test dummies and slam it into the wall until it broke. I hate my envy and hatred for innocent people, but it’s just one of those pieces of me that I can never get rid of.

Anyway, it’s just so relatable even from the beginning. Then she goes to work and talks to her friend which she complains about having to keep up with her weight, and while her friend is somewhat passive about it, her shitty boss just has to come along and tear her down calling her fat and telling the “lazy fat bitches” to go back to work. She later goes back to watching the mukbang videos and continues to slump next to her computer, watching this new girl to the mukbang scene put away thousands of calories like it’s nothing. The next day she accidentally bumps into this same girl and begs to know how to get thin and beautiful like her, and surprisingly she agrees to help her. The mukbang girl leads her back to her home and gives her this jerky which makes her thin. Just one strip and you’ll never gain a single pound back.

The next day the girl wakes up and she’s thin and beautiful and for about a week her life is amazing. No one humiliates her, people actually turn their head to look and don’t actively avoid her. She had confidence, she isn’t riddled with envy… until her hair starts to fall out. Which is even more relatable to me because I’m losing so much hair by the day. She gets thinner and thinner and weaker and weaker until she can’t leave bed. Eventually she dies in bed after realizing the mukbang girl was actually eating all that food because she had to otherwise she would die. That’s when the mukbang girl has her body taken away and suspiciously has more jerky which she tries to give to another girl.

It’s so haunting to me because the main girl (as unlikeable as she probably is to anyone who isn’t me) is like a mirror to me. The same burning anger and jealousy. The same thoughts, the same insecurities, the same one-track and shallow mind. All that matters is your appearance. All you can think about is your appearance. Appearance is more valuable than anything else in this world. Just for being attractive you’re assumed to be kind, caring, healthy, intelligent, talented, funny, what’s the point in having a personality if no one recognizes it unless they had to raise you from a baby? Just be pretty and everyone just assumes you’re this way. The same envy that clouds your judgement of everyone in the world. The same constant complaining. The same weight that’ll never change or go away. The same old habits that never die. And with the way the woman just presents a solution that’s so much easier than the years of fighting and clawing and continuously falling to the bottom of the pit of weight loss. Like a monkey’s paw. The thing you’ve wanted for eternities and seemingly never even got close to you could finally be yours. Who cares about the consequences? There’s no better alternative than this. You’ll die alone and miserable anyway, why not?

I know I would eat that jerky without a second thought. I know I wouldn’t care about the consequences. I know how happy I’d be afterwards when I was finally pretty. I’d finally have confidence. I’d finally not hate people for existing. It would be like a rebirth. And for the after effects which lead to death? I want to die anyway, if I’m given the choice of at best living a below mediocre life where I’ll die alone and still in misery when I’m old with nothing that matters- then why not give myself that week of perfection… then shoot myself?

This story is horrifying because it’s all the body horror and gut-wrenching twisted fates of horror, but a scenario that’s perfectly suited for me to be trapped. Like the holes in Enigma of Amigara Faults, this is my hole. This is my personal horror. This is everything that appeals to my struggles and personal woes I can’t believe I didn’t write this myself. It’s easy to see a piece of horror media and say “Well I could’ve survived, I would’ve just ran away!” Or “I wouldn’t have been tempted in the first place, my morals are too strong!” But this is the one situation where just as easily as any other main character in horror, I would be the perfect cog to be put in that machine.

So what makes me so angry then? I can still read the webtoon online and there’s still three other videos up of it besides the one that got taken down right? Well yes, but the thing that makes it more perfect is the reader. A sweet and soft-spoken woman. She described every food so deliciously, the anger and envy and regret so potent in her voice with every grumble, her desperation to be beautiful and thin sounded like a personal problem for her, and the final moment of truly becoming beautiful she described it like she was painting a canvas. A ray of sunshine so bright and cheery you can’t think of anything but joy, but a subtle twinge to her tone that made it clear the main character date was sealed for doom. Sure, I guess she’s not the perfect narrator, or that her mic quality wasn’t absolutely perfect, but her performance made me weep every time I watched this video. Her reading and the visuals and the story just made this the perfect horror for me.

So what do you think the other reading that was out at the time was like? It was being read by some dunce reading it with some idiotic over-the-top reaction to everything. Her boss would insult her and he’d be like “WOAH DUDE THAT’S NOT HOW YOU TREAT A GIRL! NO THAT’S BAD DUDE SHE SHOULD QUIT!” Every line about food had to be some shitty attempt at one of those Tik Tok thirst trap videos. He’d constantly stop reading the story to interject his own experiences that would instantly rip you out of the story the second you even slightly got invested or he’d make some comment like “Oh that good sounds good but I Don’t know about the last one.” He’d have to over-explain what was happening in the manga even though ITS ON THE FUCKING SCREEN or had to stop in the middle of it to explain mukbang or some other shit. I’m not saying he can’t explain what it is for the viewers who don’t know but either do it at the beginning of the story or before you start reading because he had this long ass unnecessary intro he could’ve simply put the explanation into. Not to mention his fucking face took up half of the screen and he looks very similar to one of the most famous mukbang creators (one of the ones that are extremely attractive of course). So it just makes my blood boil even further.

There are two others that I’ve seen but considering they have like 10 views and one of them started off with Joker-style laughing and the other had the most bored sounding and looking woman ever taking up most of the screen with the manga in the corner, I won’t be watching them anytime soon. Don’t get me wrong, I’m glad more people are doing readings of it, but it hurts so much to see one of the best videos on YouTube is now gone forever.

[talenlee]

2,000 Days

New Post has been published on https://press.invincible.ink/2000-days/

2,000 Days

This post marks the point at which press.exe has had a daily post every day for 2,000 days.

I’m honestly not sure how the math of that works. It feels like an unreal fact. After all, I know that in January 2023, the blog will have been up for 3,652 days (two leap years, ya see). The idea that only 1,652 days of that didn’t feature something being posted feels a little weird in my head. I can look at those numbers and mentally parse that it’s a bit like 3/4 of the blog’s existence has featured a post, but it still feels ridiculous. There are 3,276 posts on the blog (many of which won’t show up until after this date), which means that somehow, despite having months silent on the blog before I truly fell into the habit of daily posting, there’s only about a year of time to jam into that particular pocket of air.

Part of this mindset shift is that I remember that I started posting daily in June 2017, which feels like ‘three years ago,’ but it really isn’t. It’s closer to seven years ago, and when I parse that and think that the first three and a half years of the blog featured things like a weekly story post to keep myself going on it, and suddenly there’s a little less time to fit that ‘year’ of Not Posting.

Okay, how did I post two thousand days in a row?

First things first is I didn’t really plan to do it (and I don’t plan on changing). There was some part of me, at the time back in June 2017 that noticed a streak of a few days’ worth of posting and decided to see if I could keep it going. Then keep that going, and so on, until here we are. It isn’t like I advertised this blog as ‘a daily blog’ — the promise was always ‘I will post when I can and if I don’t, then you have not been deprived of anything.’ I think that if an article didn’t go up on a day, nobody would particularly notice or contact me to check if I was okay. You make big habits out of small habits.

First thing then is that I didn’t hit a big number because I set out to. I hit a big number because I got in the habit of doing it and I got in the habit of doing it because it was gratifying to my particular mental mode to do it. I have not ever heard someone contact me to say ‘I love your blog, it’s so reliable.’ I know that the readership of this blog, speaking from what I’ve been able to glean, don’t read all of it; everything gets read, a little, but a vanishingly small number of readers, every day, see the post that goes up and goes ‘ah, yes, this moment’ and go read it. Post regularly because you want to, not because it demans audience behaviour.

Rather, instead, I shake out my brain and let a little fall out and scoop up bits for people. Some people like the How To Be articles and read them as a big archival dump. Other people like the Game Pile or Story Pile stuff. I have to assume that hypothetically, I have at least one youtube subscriber who does not know I have a blog, or if they do, do not care. Not everything needs to be for everyone in the audience.

At some point in my bullet journals, I made a calendar to ensure I didn’t have a collision on two posts going up at the same time, and that little calendar drawing grew and sprawled until I finally made a digital copy of it. I needed it digitally, because I kept writing on two different computers; my desktop, and my laptop, which I used when I was at the uni (as a student, then as a teacher) and otherwise ‘out.’ Unconsciously, this calendar made me better at recognising things like the passage of time, and keeping to a daily schedule, and being aware of things that I used to have to look up. Don’t worry, I still have to check which months have 31 days, but I’m a little less inclined to feel like a new month sneaks up on me, or that summer happens ‘at some point.’ I’ve gotten into noticing how often I get takeout, or how many things ‘feel’ like they took ages that didn’t. Building habits can have knock-on effects.

Another thing I can attribute to getting to this many posts, over this much time, is Building Structures To Build Structures. At first, the (a?) goal of this blog was to get me some fiction writing chops, to build an audience who would like the stories I was telling. I set out to write a story every week, and that was how I wrote three books, which was pretty cool, and a good habit to be in. The biggest droughts in the blog’s posting were those points where I failed at doing those things – with the Mycroft Mysteries and the Wolf Year posts being much worse at keeping me engaged with the story and its telling. This structure is also where I got the regular features of Game Pile and Story Pile.

I also keep track of a sort of set of subjects, and if I make a post on that type on the blog in a month, which means I don’t overdose on a topic at a time, and spread them out, which can mean that I recontextualise work and don’t just do a big brain-dump all at once.

Most of all, though, the thing that got me here is a lot of pre-existing privilege. I can have a blog where I say some pretty inflammatory things and even if someone gets mad at me about it, the worst that happens is they make fun of me on their forums somewhere. I’ve annoyed TERFs, Gamergaters, Channers (but I kinda repeat myself), Ripperologists and Death Note fans and the result of that is … nothing. Literally nothing. I have a computer, I can afford having a computer, I have webspace that I can afford, I have the free time to write and I am connected to an existing discourse that means people pay some attention to what I’m saying and parse the ways I hook their attention with a degree of respect. I get to do this because I get to do this, and that’s cool, but also: I know there are a lot of people who do not, and I only differ from them not because of drive or brain meats or habits or whatever, but because I just got lucky to be born where and how I am and integrating into pre-existing systems, most of which are pretty shitty.

Some posts are going to be kinda bad. I tend to think of meta posts as not being interesting. I feel like I need to make them, especially because I know there’s at least one reader who’s like, half my age, and who is often overwhelmed by the scop of ‘making anything,’ so being honest about what I’m doing can help demystify that for them. I do wrap-up posts to direct attention to things because I’m trying to teach myself to have pride in my work and to assist those readers who only click through occasionally. I try to keep from venting my bad feelings, but that’s also part of a habit: I think that if I got into that habit, I wouldn’t stop, and the whole blog would be a spiral. Even trying to avoid that, I know there are times I talk about total downers and get mad about them.

In the end, I don’t know how many people have read these two thousand days of daily blogging and I don’t know how many of them are happy they did it. That’s kind of what I need to do, even if I really, really like praise and would like more of it, thanks. To do this, you’ve got to be willing to shout into a bucket.

A lot.

[fingertax4]

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