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clairenatural · 4 years

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i had a dream that sam and dean took cas to an art museum and showed him all these paintings of angels and it was like that scene in vincent and the doctor and cas said these paintings are beautiful because they depict the angels as human when a true angel could never be described as anything but monstrous and i woke up crying

anon i love this SO much. i love it so much i had to write it. this is 1.4k, destiel, human!cas

They’re making their way out of the city, monster killed and day saved, when Castiel sees a poster, pasted up on the side of the plywood wall of a construction site. It’s an angel—he doesn’t recognize the artist, but he’d guess late 19th century. Be Not Afraid: a History of Angels in Art, it proclaims, the logo of the city’s largest art gallery tucked into the corner.

Castiel stares at it. The angel on the poster stares back, wings spread and staff raised. Valiant. Something in his heart twitches, but it’s hard to place. He still has his blade, tucked safely into the trunk with the rest of their frequently used weapons, and he never had wings like that; even the shadows, the ones they showed to humans, were simply the closest representation to the real thing possible in this dimension (his back aches anyway, dimly, his human body reacting to the loss as if they were real severed appendages. He ignores it).

Dean notices, because of course he does. He stops, because of course he does, and flags Sam down before his long legs can carry him too far ahead. “Hey. You good?”

Castiel isn’t sure how long he’s been staring at the poster, but it’s long enough that Dean is obviously concerned. “Hm? Oh. Yes, I’m—I’m fine.”

Dean nods but doesn’t move. He considers the poster. “Art gallery, huh?” he asks, avoiding the obvious elephant. Castiel appreciates it. He nods back.

“I’ve never been to one,” he offers, as explanation. It seems odd—he can remember the painting of the Sistine Chapel, he remembers watching with fascination as humans began collecting the smaller paintings into collections and museums, but he’d never been inside one. It hadn’t seemed necessary. Humans collect art in large boxes to remember their history, but Castiel has seen it all.

Dean seems surprised by this. “Seriously?” Castiel nods, and there’s a pause, and he’s about to turn and keep heading towards the car, and Kansas, and home, when Dean claps him on the shoulder and turns to call over his own.

“Sammy! How do you feel about seeing some art?”

“You want to go to an art gallery?” Sam sounds incredulous, and is closer behind him than Cas expected. He hadn’t noticed him retreat the half-block he’d managed to gain on them.

“Yeah, why not? Come on. What happened to ‘a little culture wouldn’t hurt, Dean?’”

"What happened to ‘I’ve got plenty of culture, eat your damn burger?’”

“It’ll be fun, Sam,” Dean counters. Something in his tone has changed. Cas doesn’t think too hard about it.

There’s a long pause, and Cas knows there’s some sort of communication happening he can’t hear or see. “…Okay,” Sam concedes. “Okay, sure. Yeah. Let’s go.”

So they do.

Dean makes a comment about “haven’t been in one of these since I was a kid,” before they all fall into the hushed silence of the museum floor. It’s nice—nicer than Castiel had expected. Not in aesthetics; the building is sleek, and modern, and the art is obviously beautiful. But it’s nice to be there. It feels almost Holy—humans, funny creatures they are, with their habit of treating their own culture with the respect of something divine. Creating houses of worship out of museums and libraries and living rooms.

He wanders through the various exhibits but doesn’t really pay attention until he ends up in the exhibit from the poster. He’d managed to lose the Winchesters halfway through the photography exhibit, when both the brothers had gotten distracted. Castiel had continued onward anyway, on a mission, and by the time he finds himself walking into the angel exhibit he’s on his own.

He comes to a stop in front of one of the largest paintings in the room. It’s not the same angel as the poster. It’s several, actually, looking over what appears to be Mary and a baby Jesus. The angels are beautiful—smooth, flawless skin. They have long hair that looks soft, even in paint. They’re wearing white robes, and their wings are white and dove-like. None of these angels have several heads, rotating bands of fire, or thousands of eyes. They’re beautiful, but they aren’t angels. The human who painted this didn’t know that, of course—none of them did. Humanity was faced with the concept of divinity and conceptualized it as a version of itself.

“The real things ain’t as cuddly, huh?”

Dean’s voice startles him, which he hates, both because he hates being startled and because he’s still adjusting to Dean being able to sneak up on him.

“I was just thinking,” he starts, pretending he’d known Dean was there the whole time, “you paint us like we’re human.” Not ‘us’ anymore, he reminds himself, but he brushes that thought off. Not now.

Beside him, Dean snorts. “Yeah, well. If you’d told any of those Renaissance guys that the real angels are dickhead balls of celestial intent, they’d’ve arrested you for heresy.”

Castiel shakes his head. “No.” he pauses. “Well, yes. But that’s—” he turns to face Dean for the first time. He notices Sam over Dean’s shoulder, focusing intently on a painting a few feet away and obviously pretending not to listen.

“My father—God—Chuck,” he cycles through, which will never not be weird, “created us first, but not in his image. We weren’t worthy of that. Only you were. Humans, his perfect creation, modeled after their creator. But then—” he turns back to the painting and gestures to it. “You created us in your image. You thought about divinity and you couldn’t conceive anything more Holy than yourselves.”

Dean shifts. He tries for a laugh, but it comes out short. “Well, damn, Cas. Way to make a guy feel self-centered.”

Castiel turns back to him. He blinks. He frowns. That’s not what he means. “Most of my siblings thought so,” he agrees. “But I always thought it was an honor. Look,” He turns again and reaches out for the painting, only remembering a few inches from its surface to not touch it. “This one has a lyre. You always paint us playing music. But music, art….these are human things, Dean.” He lets his hand fall, but keeps his eyes forward. “We’re soldiers. They don’t teach us to play the harp in Heaven, they train us to fight. But these angels are…soft. Kind. Angels you trust to protect. The kind of angels people pray to, build churches to.” He looks back at Dean, who is staring at him with a frown. He holds his gaze, steady, and takes a deep breath before finishing. “I wish I was—that any of us were—worthy of being depicted this way. I wish we were the angels you paint us as.”

There’s a long pause while Dean searches his face, obviously trying to decide on the right reaction. If they were at home, Cas thinks Dean might reach out and hug him. Instead, Dean reaches out to clap a hand on his shoulder—he lets it linger there, and Cas knows what it means, so that’s okay, too. “For what it’s worth,” he starts, and his voice is softer than the last time he spoke. “You’re the closest thing to those angels that I’ve ever seen.”

It’s a nice sentiment, but Cas smiles sadly as he turns back to the painting. “I’m not any kind of angel anymore,” he points out, and tries his hardest to keep his voice neutral.

Dean squeezes his shoulder and tilts his head, trying to recapture Castiel’s gaze. “Hey. Look at me.” Reluctantly, he looks back over. “Your wings weren’t what made you a good angel, alright?” he brings his other hand up to poke into Castiel’s chest. “That was all in here.”

He sounds like he’s quoting the Wizard of Oz, and Cas wants to make a joke about that, but he’s also never wanted to kiss Dean more. He doesn’t, because they’re in a museum, and they’re still working up to that, but he makes a note to do it later. Instead, he reaches up and pulls Dean’s hand away from his chest, links it in his own, and squeezes.

“Thank you,” he says, and it’s earnest, and it’s for everything.

Dean smiles. He understands. He squeezes back.

#i do hope it was ok to write this #i was hoarding this ask until i could #bc i couldnt stop thinking about it!!!#Anonymous #answered #my words #over 1k words #destiel #deancas #destiel fic #deancas fic #i am Not an art historian so i tried to keep all the descriptions vague enough to not cause problems but if there are issues im sorry

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antiquitiesandlabyrinths · 4 years

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Wine and Beer in Ancient Egypt

Like in most ancient civilizations, water was not the average drink of the peoples. In Egypt people knew that water could be dirty and get you sick, so the staple drink for both food and water was beer.

People have been making alcohol ever since they had the consciousness to be aware of the terrible world around them, and in Egypt this started with the mixing of bread and water. This mixture would be put in jars and heated till it fermented, making alcohol and killing any bugs that could be present in the water. Despite being called beer, this drink would be rather unfamiliar to the common beer-drinker of today, as this method of beer would make a rather sweet, fruity drink.

The actual sweetness of the beer didn’t come from bread and water and fermentation. Different things were added into the drink – things like honey and dates, allowing for a sweeter taste, heightening the alcohol content, and with more yeast added the fermentation increased. The beer was thick and dark red, making many historians believe the beer was originally dyed to represent the fake blood Ra had Sehkmet drinking.

Obviously with the drink being made from water, emmer, and barley, it was thick, almost like a broth. To get rid of the brothy part, beer was strained through baskets, and to add flavor, different herbs and fruits were added. After the beer was flavored and strained it was sealed in jugs and stored underground, a process similar to the later lagering.

Beer, while being a staple, was often unflavored for the common man. Flavored and higher alcoholic content beer was saved for the upper class, used most commonly during festivals. Sometimes parties and banquets were graded by how drunk the guests got, which isn’t that far from today’s standards of partying. The highest beer, however, was saved for the Pharaoh and occasional nobility, and usually it was honey flavored, as honey was associated with the Gods. For example, there was beer in Tutankhamun’s tomb, and all of it was honey beer – a predecessor of later Egyptian mead.

By the time of the Middle Kingdom, this recipe changed a little – instead of thick and red, beer was lighter and amber. A little more like modern beer. At this point beer grew fast into a state-run industry.

Beer would continue to be important though, and considered an offering as necessary as food. This was most likely because beer was still a staple of Egyptian life even if the recipe had changed. Like grain, beer was also used as a form of payment.

Translation: An offering which the King gives Osiris, Lord of Djedu, that he may give a voice offering of bread and beer, ox and fowl, everything perfect and pure which a God lives on, for the soul of Renefseneb.

As shown on this stela, the stela of Renefseneb we see the offering formula and jugs of beer shown as the offering. While being a drink had daily, used in transactions, drunk at feasts and banquets, and given as offerings to the dead, it was also used as an offering to the Gods. Many temples even brewed their own beer to give to their Gods.

The knowledge of how to make beer was supposedly given to humans by Osiris, so when the energy had been absorbed by the God from the offerings, the food was given to the workers of the temple. People showed their gratitude of this shared knowledge through these offerings; food, and beer, the drink of the Gods.

Wine was not like beer despite being of the same type of drink – alcoholic, that is. But no, it was not a drink of the common type, and instead was saved for selectively the upper class. Some didn’t even consider wine a drink, considering its nutrition level. It had a number of uses past an enjoyable drink, too.

“Mixed with liquid medication, it provided a cover up to foul-tasting medications; it also was used as a mild antiseptic , as cough syrup , as an appetite-restorer , for quelling fevers, dressing wounds , and “releasing a child from the belly of a woman ,” i.e for sedating the woman in birth.” (Menna El-Dorry, Wine Making in Ancient Egypt)

Like beer, wine was a creation that started early on. There is good evidence that the process, though a bastardized version of the modern process, took place even in predynastic Egypt. In most ways this wine was treated more like meat than like beer; it was something special, something reserved mainly for nobles and the Pharaoh, and drunk mostly at festivals and banquets.

The process of making wine was something also very separate from beer. It was made almost exclusively for royals and nobles, making it hard for any commoner to purchase it. Most of the wineries were owned by royalty, meaning the wine of those grapes was owned by the royalty, and though other people could have wineries it was certainly a luxury.

Commoners would get a taste of wine every now and then, though. Wine was served during public banquets such as the Hathor festival in Dendera and the Valley festival. It was also given as bonus pay to soldiers and workers on the west bank of Thebes.

Much like beer, wine was also considered divine, and not in the sense of taste, though the taste was supposedly sweet. From the bloodthirsty story of Hathor to Eudoxus, it had divine qualities. While the exact quotation from Eudoxus hasn’t yet been found, he was paraphrased by Plutarch, allowing us to see into how the Egyptians saw their wine:

“The blood of those who had once battled against the gods, and from whom, when they had fallen and had become commingled with the earth, they believed vines to have sprung.”

This quote refers directly to the ‘Destruction of Mankind’ myth, whose moral of the story matches many other religions. The main idea of it was that if you kill everyone you want to punish, no one will be around to learn the lesson.

Egyptians had a wide variety of different grape colors, ranging from white to dark blue. Others were pink, green and red, but difference in grape colors wasn’t the only variety the Egyptians had in reference to wine. They made wine from different fruits, too – fruits including figs, pomegranates, dates, figs, and palm. The actual process of their wine-making is hazy to see, as the only evidence historians have to figure it out are tomb paintings, most of which were made by artists who never actually saw the process themselves. We know how they fermented grapes, and it’s assumed the other fruits were handled the same way with sugar put in to add to the alcohol content.

Vines were planted on elevated planes, with stone or clay walls surrounding them, though we can’t yet tell if these hills were natural or manmade. A large water basin is often found in these areas. Grapes were much harder to grow than wheat, and they attracted a fair amount more of birds, so there was an actual job to be a scarecrow and scare the animals away.

In the late summer, the grapes would ripen, and if they were tended well throughout the year, they would all ripen at the same time. Men, women, and children worked together in this process, using their hands to cut the grapes down instead of knives. After being harvested, the grapes would be put in a large vat, and in a scene many modern people find familiar they were treaded with feet, as a stone was too rough and would smash the bitter seeds, making the wine bitter. These vats were huge – four to six men stood in one at once, each of them squishing the grapes.

The next step was pressing, which was done with instruments and singing, with the women keeping the beat. In this pressing, the wine was drained into smaller vats where it would be fermented. However, a second pressing was necessary to extract the remaining juice from the grapes.

“Placed in an oblong linen slough, wine-lees were squeezed by stretching the linen across a strong wooden frame; with men on one side twist the linen . The squeezed liquid would flow into a pot placed underneath the slough.“ (Menna El-Dorry, Wine Making in Ancient Egypt)

After the second pressing the wine would be left to fully ferment. There were a few methods to this – wine that was left to ferment for several days was a light drink, while wine that was fermented for several weeks and possibly heated created a much heavier outcome. It was then bottled and sealed in short, wide-necked jars, or sometimes in skins for long journeys. This had to take place immediately after fermentation. The bottles were labelled with a wet mud stamp, usually offering information on the wine such as regnal year, name of the vineyard, name of the wine maker and the quality of the wine. After being judged by a special officer (inspectors of wine) it would be stored.

As previously mentioned there were several different types of wine in ancient Egypt. We have offering formulas in tombs to thank for this information. Like beer, honey and fruits were used to sweeten it, and the sweeter the drink, the more alcoholic.

Irep mehu (Lower Egyptian wine or of the Marshes - the Delta being one of the largest winemaking centres of ancient Egypt)

Irep Bes (wine in an Abesh jar)

Irep Imit (wine of Imit – north of Faqous )

Irep Dedjem (sweet wine)

Shedeh (red grape, highly valued, associated with your lover’s voice and used in embalming and offerings, like the other wines).

note: I translated the stela myself because I couldn’t find an official translation. If I got it wrong please tell me.

#ancient egypt #ancient history #beer #egyptian beer #wine #egyptian wine #history

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leslea · 4 years

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Ready Player Two: The Mysognist’s Love Song

This is a review. Spoilers & typos to follow:

I enjoyed Ready Player One (RP1). It was quirky and fun. The dystopian setting was disturbing, especially as the kid who served as the story’s protagonist didn’t actually do much to make the world a better place, once he became its newest prince. We’re told from the git-go that the world is spiraling downhill, and what does Wade/Parzival do at the end? The bare minimum. He lets the debtors go. He shares his riches with his friends. Well, he was literally just a teenager, and most assuredly a feral one, at that, so you could excuse his lack of vision. Certainly there would be a Ready Player Two (RP2) that would redeem our child champion?

Haha, no.

RP2 is the story of what happens to a neglected impoverished child when he lucks into immense privilege, but lacks the heart, charm, or charisma to be anything other than a hermit and an incel. Where Harry Potter could arguably be said to have started from a similar circumstance, yet grew into an actual savior role in his fight against Voldemort & the Death Eaters, Wade Watts’ character in RP2 is unabashedly a less-loveable version of Donald Trump in a world where he is, in all practicality, king.

As RP2 begins, Wade owns everything. Not just the Oasis, but a futuristic tech that allows one to record their own visceral experience of being alive. This tech, called ONI, goes even more viral than the Oasis, and makes Wade rich beyond the human mind’s ability to calculate. He has power--so much power, he can control anything. He is literally the richest man in the world, and most assuredly its most envied/hated. Nothing is out of reach for him--and though his friends from RP1′s ‘Gunting days are portrayed focusing on developing real relationships (marriages, babies, etc.), working on improving their environments, and delivering aid to their communities, our dear Wade simply pines for the one thing that eludes him: Samantha, aka Artemis, his fierce and determined love interest from RP1.

He brags about the one week he spent in seclusion with Samantha in a bedroom. He talks way too often of his other sexual exploits via ONI, allowing him to experience sex from the POV of other men, women, transpeople, and non-binary folks. He has done the deed every which way but loose, and author Ernest Cline is as eager to share those details with the reader as he is the spout off acronyms and descriptions of fictional technology. Whereas the latter will have you yawning in boredom, the former will simply turn your stomach. Raise your hands if you were hoping for more cybersex in RP2. Anyone? Anyone? Right.

Before I delve too deeply in how important it is for even blockbuster authors like Cline to CONSENT TO QUALITY EDITORIAL INPUT, I need to outline some important problems with this story beyond “What’s wrong with Wade, items 1-999.”

Samantha is justly described to have turned her back on Wade over some important issues. She is a woman of integrity, and for years Wade stalks her virtually, even though in all reality he grows a smaller and smaller figure from her past. Think about any woman you know who moves on and gets things done in life: they do not sit around pining for a dickhead ex who they slept with once, years prior. They just don’t. Samantha, however, despite all her success, integrity, and morals...just can’t help but fall back in love with Wade.

All powerful Wade. Involuntarily celibate (in the “Earl,” as Cline calls “in real life,” [IRL]), plugged into the internet from his spinal column or brain stem or whatever, 12 hours per day Wade. Childish destroyer of dissenting user accounts Wade. Stalker Wade.

Although Samantha refuses to make eye contact with him for years, the moment he needs her help...poof. She’s back on his jock like static cling, if I may borrow Cline’s penchant for quoting nostalgia in lieu of creating new content.

While Samantha’s inexplicable change of heart is problematic enough, it is only foreshadowing for a bigger problem with the story. Wade, as owner of the Oasis and all that digital shit, ends up on a quest to restore the Siren’s Soul. This is the “egg hunt” of RP2. Instead of eggs, this time he’s hunting shards, which is fitting, really, because Cline left me feeling sharted on by earlier than midway through the text.

Where were we? The shards. Right.

The singular essence of Kira Underwood, constantly referred to as “Og’s wife,” has been divided into seven shards and hidden around the Oasis--that is, until the end of the story when Cline mercifully hid the last two together. I might have wept if the story had gone on one chapter longer than necessary. When the shards are collected and merged, they will...? What? Oh, they will coalesce into the actual soul of the departed woman. They will bring her back, digitally.

Now, not only is it creepy on many levels that Wade--let’s call him Parzincel--is repeatedly referred to as Kira’s owner, but his idol before him, James Halliday, is characterized has having created this ONI technology for the main purpose of bringing Kira back, so that a digital version of himself could finally possess her. While “thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s wife,” is certainly a handy commandment, “thou shalt treat women as FUCKING PEOPLE WITH THEIR OWN INHERENT RIGHTS” would perhaps be a better placard to engrave and set on the desk of Halliday--to then be passed down to Wade. It never seems to dawn on Parzincel that he has no right to possess Kira, or any other ONI user.

The in-game avatar of Halliday eventually explains that Kira’s “siren” avatar was able to explain to him that possessing her, manipulating her, etc. was wrong--but ONLY after Halliday hooks himself up the ONI and lives some of Kira’s experiences. Cline plays Halliday off in both books as an Aspergian genius, someone very high functioning on the Autism Spectrum, but as the mother of a young man with autism, I am beyond disgusted at the idea that you would have to hook one living being up to another human being’s synapses for them to have ANY understanding that the other person is a free, competent human being with agency of her own. Kira is repeatedly characterized as an artistic genius with a great heart. She, like Samantha, is demonstrated to be loving and kind. Generous. And yet both Kira and Samantha are primarily belongings for men to possess, control, pursue, and lose. Oh, if only they did lose them...because of course, they don’t. In Parzincel’s dream future, the best thing he can do is create a double of himself, so that he can experience the inexplicable love of Samantha in the “Earl” as well as in an ONI paradise.

Kira, as the “first stable AI,” is never once shown having any sort of existential crisis. She simply loves being a pretty plaything for Wade and Jim and Og, digitally--and naturally she is “still in love with Og.” Okay, whatever. By this point in the story, Og and Kira are nothing more than paper dolls set up to somehow replace Wade’s missing mother/father figures. You can almost see the author sitting spraddle leg on the floor of his study, pushing dolls around. “You are the mommy now, and you are the daddy...and Wade is the baby! Now kiss!”

In a world as technologically advanced as that of RP2, there would be nuances to digital characters, right? If only there were nuances in the humans who created them, I suppose.

Cline’s Parzincel has a weird weird weird way of looking at women. So does Halliday. Even the benevolent Og only barely registers as showing any interest in Kira’s consent, and then, only when he is, himself, close to death. It’s like Cline knew the only decent human being in this story was Ogden Morrow--and possibly Kira. We don’t really get to spend enough time with the Kira character to know.

But why would we? We are just readers, and she is, after all, Og’s wife.

I won’t get started on the Lo-Five or what he did to Aech. I’ll let Tim take over for that bit.

#review #ready player two #rp2 #ready player one #rp1 #spoilers #ernest cline

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purplesurveys · 3 years

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1191

survey by voicedance16

name yourself: Robyn

name (one of) your best friend(s): Angela; she’s for keeps.

name 3 things in your fridge/freezer: I don’t think I opened the fridge at all today, but if I had to guess...eggs, bread, and our pad thai leftovers from dinner earlier.

name a color you're wearing currently: Green.

name the last thing you ate: I treated myself and ordered spicy tuna salad tonight because I had a shit shift. It’s been a while since I felt a little burned out with my job, but it happened today and it wasn’t very pleasant.

name the last store you went to: I never go out these days...does online shopping count? I’m always browsing through Shopee, if anything lol.

name the song you're listening to: ON - BTS.

name the artist of that song: BTS.

name your favorite animal: Dogs or elephants.

name what pets you have, if any: Two dogs. Kimi, Cooper.

name the town/state you live in: No thanks. I live near Manila though, which is probably the only city most people know from the Philippines anyway so that should suffice.

name something commonly ordered at Starbucks: I think my usual is a pretty common order – caramel macchiato.

name the last person you talked to in person: Not sure. I think it may have been Nina? I was just jokingly asking her if her bias recognized her again on a VLive, since her comments have been read by her favorite group recently, and she tells me they even laugh at them :( Perks of liking a smaller, more underground group for sure; pigs would have to fall from the sky before anyone from BTS notices me lol.

name the last person you talked to on the phone: My mom. I didn’t hear her calling for dinner last night, so she ended up having to call me from downstairs while I was hanging out at the rooftop.

name the current day of the week: Tuesday.

name the current month: May.

name the current time: 10:22 PM.

name the last movie you watched: I have not watched an entire movie since i’m thinking of ending things back in September. I did watch a snippet from Portrait of a Lady on Fire a few weeks ago, though. That’s the closest thing I’ve got to watching any film recently.

name the last book you read: This one I’m even more uncertain about.

name a place you've been on vacation: South Korea.

name a place you'd like to go on vacation: Malta or Turkey.

name 3 things you can see from where you're sitting: It’s pretty dark so I technically can’t ‘see’ anything, but based on what I know I brought up to the rooftop tonight I have my phone, my salad, and my vape pen.

name your favorite musical: Miss Saigon, if anything. I’m not a big fan of musicals.

name an animal (any): Turtle was the first that came to mind.

name a fruit: Mangoes.

name a vegetable: Lettuce.

name a common breakfast food: Pancakes. They’d sound so good rn, too.

name a color: Grey.

name a type of flower: Dandelions.

name a type of tree: Uh...mango again? HAHA I’m not very good with trees.

name a city: New York.

name a state: Indiana.

name a country: India.

name a continent: Asia.

name a planet: Jupiter.

name a girl's name: Jessica.

name the last person to comment you on Facebook: Angela. She tagged me on this post that was promoting a local shop that makes customized face pillows and she told me we should order a Taehyung one for me and a Seokjin one for her, hahaha. The concept is definitely cute but it wasn’t my style, so I showed her another shop that also makes face pillows, but prettier.

name a clothing store/brand: Thom Browne.

name the last book you got at the library: If I remember correctly, it was History of the Filipino People which, coincidentally, my great-uncle wrote.

name a restaurant: Yabu but eugh, haven’t eaten there since the breakup. I should order from them soon to commemmorate moving on heheh.

name a grocery store: Can I just name a local one? SM.

name an iPhone app: YouTube.

name an actor: Eddie Redmayne.

name an actress: Emma Stone.

name a music group: BTS.

name your favorite/lucky number: It used to be 4, but I’m now going with 7.

name something you've accomplished: Continued from...last night, I think? I have no concept of time anymore. I managed to survive this week so far considering how deadly my schedule was.

name something you'd like to accomplish: Get a promotion once I’ve proven myself capable.

name someone who makes you laugh: Hans can make anything funny.

name something exciting coming up soon: Some of my online shopping orders arriving I’m guessing by later today, yayyyy.

name a song that makes you emotional: Oh man, there are a lot. O by Coldplay is probably the one that hits the worst, though; I still can’t listen to that song completely to this day. Recently, I also can’t really avoid being sad whenever I listen to Butterfly by BTS.

name one of your pet peeves: Overly slow drivers.

name someone you know who is an amazing singer: Hannah.

name someone who is the same religion as you: JM.

name a holiday you celebrate: Christmas.

name the last 4 digits of your phone number: That’s too many, lmao.

name one of your cousins: My cousin Lei from my dad’s side.

name a book you loved when you were younger: The entire Septimus Heap series. I must’ve reread Magyk (the first book) a hundred times.

name a song you loved when you were younger: Let’s go withhhhh Girlfriend by Avril Lavigne. Making sure there were no adults around whenever I sang along to “I’m a motherfucking princess” as an 8 year old was always a thrill.

name your favorite movie: Two for the Road.

name a popular book series: Percy Jackson.

name a musical instrument: Saxophone.

name a language: French.

name what other tabs you have open: Archive of our Own, Dailymotion, Bzoink.

name 3 things on the walls of the room you're in: The walls of the rooftop are bare.

name your house number 4.

name your high school: Nope.

name your college, if applicable: UP.

name your middle school See high school.

name your elementary school: See high school.

name the college you wish you went to/hope to go to: I was able to qualify for the university and degree I wanted to attend.

name your favorite teacher: My music teacher in high school.

name the color of your backpack: Hm, don’t really use backpacks anymore but the main one I had in college - at least until I switched to a simple handbag (aka my senior year when I started to not care lol) - was a pink Herschel backpack.

name a dessert: Leche flan.

name a famous landmark: Statue of Liberty, only because of the question after this.

name a place you might go in NYC: Tiffany’s.

name an inventor: Nikola Tesla.

name an article of clothing: Jeans.

name an ice cream flavor: Pistachio.

name a religion: Islam.

name an emotion: Resentment.

name a room in your house: Mine.

name a website: Twitter.

name a car: Hyundai Palisade.

name something you need to do today: It’s a holiday today so I technically should be off work, but since it’s a holiday squished in the middle of the week that’s just another way of saying my dayoff will be a scam lmao. That said, I need to draft an article today for a client.

name someone you admire: My dad.

name someone you miss: My two best friends.

name a part of the body: Thighs.

name the last youtube video you watched: It was a Taehyung-focused compilation.

name a quote you love: “If you really love to be loved, it’d be good to show those who love you how much you’ve changed.” There’s some background context obviously playing around in here and most people might not recognize the weight it holds if they’re unfamiliar, but it’s a quote that really means a lot to me and came to me during a time I needed to hear it.

#survey #surveys

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ichorandpride · 4 years

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god im livid. alright. number one thing about birds or any pets? dont fucking get a pet (especially a high needs animal like a bird) just because you see cute videos of them online. and if people who own the type of pet you want tell you that you’re not ready for one? LISTEN TO THEM.

someone i specifically warned to NOT get a bird because they didnt know fuckall about taking care of one got a lovebird about a month or two ago, and has now killed it “on accident” (quotes because this could have been preventable had they just fucking listened to everyone telling them to NOT get a bird).

that’s the gist of why im angry but a rant and further details under the cut:

like im literally so fucking livid right now because nothing they did was proper care at all. they got this lovebird and immediately without knowing how to take care of it, started asking us what food they should buy and stuff and how to “tame” it. clearly they didnt do ANY research and impulse bought it.

they then got a tiny ass cage for it that was literally about the size of one of those shitty pet store hamster cages. it had a similar door mechanism on it where it’s just a “pop in place and it stays” door.

but those cages are 1. FAR FAR too small for even a budgie and 2. an improper locking mechanism compared to, say, a hook lock or a full padlock if the bird is a known escape artist. we told them many times to get a better cage or give it back to the breeder and they never listened and ignored us constantly, only continuously asking how to “tame” it to the point where it got fucking annoying.

because of this, today they told us that their bird got out of its cage (due to the improper cage) and then “must have come over while [they were] sleeping” because they supposedly ended up fucking crushing it to death in their sleep

the first thing they then proceeded to do upon finding their dead pet was contact the discord chat we’re in and react about it with a :( emoji

I honestly have no words for the lack of care. they treated this bird like a fucking toy for their own amusement that they bought on impulse just because they saw cute videos and pics online.

im also pissed off at the moderators of the discord for fully enabling this because when people told this person that they clearly shouldn’t own a bird bc they didn’t do research, the mods basically muted us before threatening to ban us. the mods then proceeded to say stuff like “you should help them and give them info instead of ‘harassing’ them” when we weren’t harassing at all and, in reality, they should have done their own damn research MONTHS before getting a bird.

im fucking livid but please people do NOT be like this person. DO NOT get a pet bird just because they look cute or your friends have one. birds require 24/7 constant care and are not disposable animals or living toys due to their long lifespans (15+ years, average of 30+) and high intelligence. you NEED to do MONTHS of research before getting even a smaller “beginner” bird like a cockatiel, budgie, or lovebird.

#tw animal death // not mr beepy #also this is not a callout post or anything im just. livid #nate.txt

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sassysweetstories · 6 years

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Diamond in the Rough

Summary: you’re an androgynous woman who has a rather groggy voice. due to your social anxiety and shy nature, you refuse to let your beautiful, sexy voice free. that is until you do something that might lead you down a dangerous path.

Ship: Shawn Mendes x Fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, swearing, vulgar words, bullying, fluff, hyperventilating, borderline anxiety attack, gender bashing, etc.

Notes: none of these gifs are mine, credit to the owners.

Tagged: @bailey-hoover @kiralivelove @thalia-prior-of-ravenclaw @anamcg317 @bellasett @queentiffanyyy @archer-whovian-violinist @beingmadinwonderland @princessisabelle19 @violence-and-velvet @lachicadelamanzana

Your P.O.V

[two years ago]

“Oh! Waiter!” A girl says mockingly to me, a sadistic sinister grin making it’s way onto her already harsh features. “Or, are you a girl? I can’t tell. Whatever. Pick up our stuff.” I don’t hesitate to start loading some of the dishes in the little cafe shop I worked at. Whilst rearranging objects, I do my best to ignore her and her friends entirely, already having to deal with their abuse during school hours. College was a wonderful escape but not enough when it came to bullying. There’s always a group of girls that bash on others. I just happened to stumble upon the worst. “Hey, dyke. You forgot something.” I watch helplessly as she pushes the mug off the table, smirking as it crumbles into a million little pieces. She enjoys the slightest flinching motion from me. “Clean it up.” Her friends damn near cackle like hyenas and despite the fact that my blood is boiling, I keep my mouth shut and pick up the remains of the shattered cup, almost cutting myself up in the process. Before I know it my boss, Belle, a curvy yet short and stout, black woman doesn’t hesitate to cuss them out. “Get the hell out of my shop. That is no way to treat my worker. I’ve already called the police due to your repetitive behavior. Expect that I’ll be suing.”

I don’t even have enough time to look up to know that they’re gone, not before they scoff at me with disgust. I’m glad Belle has no longer made it a problem at work but I’m sure it’ll only get worse at school. The cafe is like a home away from home type of feel. With it’s Barnes and Noble / Earthbound vibe, it’s exactly what the kids these days are enjoying. I love the interaction, simple but sweet nonetheless. But my anxiety does wonders when I try to step out of my comfort zone only to be forces backwards again. The best time to escape though is when I’m closing. Belle and the rest of my coworkers leave a little after ten where I close at one. Once alone, I dip my toes in my nighttime en-devours and breathe. And by that I mean sing. Ya see, ever since I was little, I knew I could sing but I’d never done in public due to the fact that I had a very masculine voice, and not to mention I have terrible social anxiety. I have a low voice to begin with but nobody really knows that except Belle and Charlie. Only they know and I’m not gonna expand that comfort bubble. I sway to the rhythm of the song, smiling softly as the lyrics sprung happily through the sound system.

Out There from Hunchback of Notre Dame

“Safe behind these windows and these parapets of stone Gazing at the people down below me All my life I watch them as I hide up here alone Hungry for the histories they show me All my life I memorize there faces Knowing them as they will never know me All my life I wonder how it feels to pass a day Not above them But part of them.

And out there Living in the sun Give me one day out there All I ask is one To hold forever.”

Before I know it, I’m jumping all around the empty cafe, dancing and singing with such passion I don’t even realize I’m sweating through my shirt. There’s something so inviting about music much less musicals. When I do it alone, the drive is stronger than anything I’ve ever experienced, this kind of adrenaline rush that makes me wild with childlike wonder.

“Out there Where they all live unaware What I’d give What I’d dare Just to live one day out there

Out there among the millers and the weavers and their wives Through the roofs and gables I can see them Ev’ry day they shout and scold and go about their lives Heedless of the gift it is to be them If I was in their skin I’d treasure ev’ry instant

Out there Strolling by the Seine Taste a morning out there Like ordinary men Who freely walk about there Just one day and then I swear I’ll be content

With my share Won’t resent Won’t despair Old and bent I won’t care I’ll have spent One day Out there.”

When the music dies, I’m drenched in my own perspiration. Heart thumping with a different kind of adrenaline rush. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe again, like I’m alive. That is until a loud clapping irrupts from the front of the cafe. Gulping, my heart drops in fear. “Well aren’t you something.” A girl half my height grins up at me as if she’d just found gold, a faint mischievous smirk arising onto her plump lips. “Names Fray. Fray Jay-white. But most of my friends call me FJ. I’ve got a proposition for you.” Oh no...

[Now]

“Are you nervous about performing tonight?” I ask FJ, twiddling my thumbs with nervous and uneasy fingers. She shrugs mindlessly. Of course she’s not afraid and yet you are despite the fact that you’ll be behind a fucking curtain. She was born for this kinda thing, a lover of attention. FJ had been working with me, lip-sinking while I sung behind the stage or in the audio-booth but this was our second live performance in front of the biggest artists in the world. Our- my voice had gotten so much attention in the past few years, people wanted to hear it for themselves. Apparently the cast of Hamilton is suppose to be here tonight, too.

Literally everyone I love will be behind that wall and I won’t get to see them because I’m so afraid. She notices my discomfort and takes her hands in mind, much smaller but they calm me nonetheless. She’s become one of my closest friends since our agreement and I could thank her enough for listening to my whole story, caring as much as she does. “Hey, we’ve got this. It’ll be okay tonight. And guess what, Dylan and I found a one sided mirror. Ya know, like in all of those cop shows?! You can perform on stage behind the one sided mirror!-” She lifts my chin up ever so slightly, coaxing me with her gentle voice. “I think this is a step in the right direction.”

And in that moment, I don’t doubt her even though I should’ve. I accept the words effortlessly as truth, a way to break out of my bubble. I prepare backstage with the rest of the crew, grinning at their shenanigans. As I look out at the oceans of people that I call family, I feel whole and content despite the performance butterflies. “(Y/n), it’s time.” Dylan says to me with excitement and pride in his eyes. Patting my shoulder like a sibling would, I slip past the curtain and hide behind the one sided mirror, microphone at the ready. In that moment as FJ walks out onto the stage, I decide to lay on one of the spare boxes and it brings me immediate comfort. They can’t see you. A voice reminds me. The music starts and my nerves slowly vanish.

For Forever From Dear Evan Hansen

“End of May or early June This picture-perfect afternoon we share Drive the winding country road Grab a scoop at A’ La Mode An open field that’s framed with trees We pick a spot and shoot the breeze Like buddies do Quoting songs by our favorite bands Telling jokes no one understands Except us two And we talk and take in the view

All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Feels like we could go on for forever this way Two friends on a perfect day We walk a while and talk about The things we'll do when we get out of school Bike the Appalachian trail or Write a book or learn to sail Wouldn't that be cool? There's nothing that we can't discuss Like girls we wish would notice us but never do He looks around and says to me "There's nowhere else I'd rather be" And I say, "me too"And we talk and take in the view

We just talk and take in the view All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Feels like we could go on for forever this way, this way All we see is light for forever 'Cause the sun shines bright for forever Like we'll be alright for forever this way Two friends on a perfect day And there he goes Racing toward the tallest tree From far across the yellow field I hear him calling, "follow me" there we go Wondering how the world might look from up so high

One foot after the other One branch then to another I climb higher and higher I climb 'til the entire Sun shines on my face And I suddenly feel the branch give way I'm on the ground My arm goes numb I look around And I see him come to get me He's come to get me

And everything's okay All we see is sky for forever We let the world pass by for forever Buddy, you and I for forever this way, this way All we see is light 'Cause the sun burns bright We could be alright for forever this way Two friends True friends On a perfect day.”

I’m so lost in the song, I don’t realize I’m crying until it’s all over. This song means everything to me I can’t help but lose myself. Apparently I’ve moved the audience because they’re weeping, too. But it’s all too much, their eyes. I look back at FJ for reassurance but she’s long gone. But- If she’s gone, who are they- Oh god... In that moment, everything around me slows down and my heartbeat quickens. The mirror slowly climbs upward but it’s too late. They’re beady, demon eyes watch me with hungry teeth, ready to take a bite at me and my insecurities. I can’t breathe but I can move and I do. My name is being called from behind but I don’t ever turn back, I can’t. I push past everybody, not even bothering to say sorry. Once I get to the hallway, the fresh air hits me like a ton of bricks. I search the halls for my next direction before noticing a pair of honey eyes watching me with worried brows but I don’t stop moving. Apart of me is glad I took up track in high school cause nobody can catch me.

Before I can bolt past the next aisle, a massive body tackles me off to the side and I land with a loud thud. The tears have blurred my vision almost entirely but I’d know that voice anywhere. “(Y/n), listen to me! It’s going to be okay!” Dylan must’ve followed from the venue. How he kept up, I don’t know. My entire body shakes, harder than it’s ever done before. This was by far the worst panic attack I’d ever experienced. I try to push Dylan away but he only holds me tighter, almost like he knows what I really need. Cradling my cheeks with his calloused hands, I’m surprised that those warm fingers belong to him. I don’t even realize we’re moving until we’re not longer in the hallway, out of sight and out of prying eyes. Through blurry eyes only, we shuffle into an empty sound booth and I’m glad to finally sit on something solid, the only feeling of assurance I think I’ll get tonight. As Dylan runs his hands up and down my arms, I finally come to a heavy realization.

FJ betrayed me. The mere thought leaves a bitter taste both in my mouth and in the pit of my stomach. I want nothing more than to curl up, shy away from the world and stop existing entirely. But another hypothesis, now turned theory, arises, too. Everyone has seen your face, your performance. There’s no point in running. I think for a minute about the thousands of dollars it’d take to alter my features, to be able to hide in plain sight again, maybe this time without the ridicule. Realistically I don’t have the money for any of it, nor would I want to. A burning feeling starts to fester in my heart and I can’t quite place it until my breathing finally steadies. Pure fucking rage. Heartbreak turned into a scorching inferno. Despite the fact that my hands are still shaking and my legs are far from ready to bare weight much less my own, I push Dylan’s hands away. He gawks at the gesture but even more so when I present an accusation more so versus a question, “Did you help her?! Did you plan this?!”

His deep blue eyes turn sad, hurt that I’d think so little of him. But I was just humiliated in front of the entire world. Right now, I have no time for compassion. That patient, kind side is gone. Ripped away for selfish purposes. “No! (Y/n)! When I bought the one sided mirror, that’s exactly what it was! One-sided! Not a window! Someone must’ve switched it out right before you got on stage. I didn’t know about any of this!” All of a sudden, the music booth door flew open with a loud thud. FJ is one of the first to enter, followed by some of our crew and I don’t hide my angered state. I push myself up onto unsteady feet and glare into her soul, damning her to hell. “(Y/n)- I-” She tries to speak but I’m not having any of it. “You did this.” She flinches under my rough tone, a sound I’m not even use to. “I trusted you. Told you about every bully, every night I cried. And you put me out there when I wasn’t ready. You threw me to side, FOR WHAT?! GREED?! MONEY?!” I don’t feel a lick of remorse for the tears that start to fall down her cheeks as I continue. “You’ve ruined my life! I CAN’T GO ANYWHERE NOW! ALL I WANTED WAS TO BE HIDDEN! TO BE UNSEEN!”

She screams back, “BUT THE WORLD NEEDED TO SEE WHAT YOU HAD!” I cuss back louder, voice hoarse with passion and anger. They dance together like lost partners. “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THAT! IT WAS MY CHOICE AND YOU RIPPED THAT AWAY FROM ME!” FJ has nothing to say. But that’s because she knows I’m right. She’s cognitively aware of how bad this situation is starting to turn. I can’t go anywhere now that I’ve been seen. I have two options: vanish, never leave my house or the other, one I don’t even dare to utter. “Get out.” I reply shortly. The rest of the crew look terrified of my retched state, more disappointed in FJ than anything. She attempts to talk again, “(Y/n), please-” But begging won’t get her anywhere. It seems she did this alone because nobody attempts to vouch for her actions. Throwing her to side should be easy but it only closes the door on my torn heart, a brand to seal everything shut. “I said. Get. Out.” FJ needs no more than that before she runs out sobbing. I all but faint, exhausted and more drained than ever before. I sit for a moment before a person creeks the door open.

“Umm.. Miss (Y/L/N). There’s someone who’d like to meet you.”

(I hope you guys liked it. I’d like to make this a series after I finish my two requests. Tell me what you think in the comments please it really helps)

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whipped-for-kpop-fics · 7 years

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BTS when their S/O leaves notes in their lunch

Being in a relationship with a member of BTS meant you were part of a VERY exclusive group. "Banging Bangtan" as your group chat was so beautifully named by one of the group members. The group chat consisted of the significant others of the 7 BTS members and no-one else. The guys all knew of the chat and had tried to read it when phones were left along but you had all put a special passcode on the particular chat that not a single one of the boys had managed to crack.

Every morning, the seven of you would wake up in your respective homes and insist of making lunch for your partner to take to work. Some of the boys complained a little, saying that they could buy something as they didn't always get time to sit and eat but they all appreciated the gesture and wound up with a plastic tub for lunch. Without fail, every lunch contained a little-handwritten note to help brighten the members days.

BTS had grown into the routine of sitting down in a circle(wherever they were that day) to eat lunch together sharing the notes to amuse each other. All of their partners knew of this ritual and quickly made up a competition to get the best reaction which the boys knew so would send you a message saying who won the group chat for all 14 of you.

They always started with the eldest and worked down to the maknae.

Jin "Okay so shut up, my jagi always writes brilliant notes." He announced loudly so his youngers looked at him and waited in amusement. You and Jin had always shared the same sense of humour, it was what drew you together, so the boys knew your note was always going to be a lame joke Jin would laugh at for the rest of the day. He opened his lunch box and found your note taped to a smaller pot. "This may be a little cheesy but I think you're grape." He read a bright smile on his face before laughing. He liked the joke alone enough as it was but once he saw the contents of the pot, he fell over, laughing so hard.

"Ohmygod, they actually put cheese and grapes in the pot." Jungkook cackled from Jin's right and all of the boys laughed a little, not wanting to admit that Jin's note was already holding strong competition.

Yoongi "Alright, my turn, it's got to be better than some lame joke," Yoongi announced with a scoff as he opened his own lunch. You always taped the note to the inside of the lid so he flipped it over to burst out into laughter, clutching his stomach.

"Did they write a joke?" Hoseok gasped, shuffling over to peer over Yoongi's arm. His jaw dropped and he looked at Yoongi in shock. "Hyung! What is that?!"

The others jumped over to snatch the lid to see the picture. It was a printed screenshot of hentai with 'A present for Namjoonie :)' written across the top in your handwriting.

"What the hell?!" Namjoon shrieked, cheeks turning pink. "How many times do I have to tell you guys I don't watch tentacle porn?!" He exclaimed as all of his members laughed at his expense. "It was once! I was fifteen! We were supposed to never mention it again!"

Hoseok "Okay-okay." He managed through his laughter. "It's my turn now."

"Want the picture?" Yoongi teased, removing the picture to hold it out to Namjoon who only slapped it away with a pout.

"Awwww." Hoseok cooed looking at the little love note you wrote for him. "My jagi is so cute." He turned the note so the boys could see your neat handwriting quoting various songs to him, songs about love and sunshine and all things great in the world. The others just smiled lightly, they had always admired the relationship you two had, it had always been full of such obvious love and neither of you were shy to it no matter who was around. "I'm happy, you can all vote for a dumb joke, my jagi has made me happy," Hoseok announced, smiling down at the note adoringly and taking out his phone, no doubt to message you and thank you for the note and say some soft AF stuff back because that was pretty much the lunch routine for him now.

Namjoon Namjoon was a little anxious to open his lunch, not knowing what would happen. You were known to have some strange ideas of what was classed as normal lunch and once he had opened his lunch to have kimchi stew pour out all over him and the dance room floor. Why you thought to give your clumsy boyfriend stew in a tub without warning, no-one understood and you only grinned innocently when questioned.

The second his eyes found the polaroid resting on his wrapped sandwich, his eyes widened and he closed the lid, cheeks pink and heat rushing to his crotch.

"What does your note say?" Jin asked, eyes sparkling from the laughter tears that had only just stopped from his own note.

"Uh...not a note," Namjoon answered, grasping his lunch tight in case one of his members tried to grab it to find the little gift on their own.

"Then what? Please don't tell me it's handcuffs again." Yoongi sighed.

"No..." Namjoon didn't explain so was met with six pairs of curious eyes. "A picture."

"Picture?" Jungkook repeated confused then his eyes widened as the realisation hit him. "It's a nude!"

"Ohmygod, really hyung?" Jimin gasped. Namjoon nodded meekly.

"Okay, I kinda wanna say hyung wins," Jungkook confessed. "I want a nude with my lunch." He pouted down at his closed tub and made a move to open it but Taehyung swiftly slapped his hand away.

"No, that's not the rules." Taehyung reminded. "Wait your turn, Kookie." Jungkook pouted harder and looked to Jimin, waiting for him to open his lunch so he could get to his own quicker.

"I uh...I'll be back," Namjoon announced before jumping up to run to the privacy of the bathroom. Behind the locked door, he video called you, glad to find you waiting in the lingerie he bought you only two days previous.

Jimin "Should I wait?" Jimin asked, looking around the group.

"Nah, he'll be a while," Taehyung replied with a shrug. "Hyung takes a while to masturbate."

"Why do you even know that?" Hoseok asked, giving Taehyung a disgusted look.

"We were roommates," Taehyung replied as if it was obvious. It was a good enough reason for all of them and Jimin opened his lunch.

"Aww, it's a peach sticky note!" Jimin cooed peeling the note off the tub to read it. He giggled and blushed at your words.

"What does sit say?" Yoongi questioned.

"I saw this in the store yesterday and it made me think of you. A nice, round, juicy, soft yet firm peach just like your nice, round, juicy, soft yet firm booty." The boys all chuckled at Jimin's obvious embarrassment. Most of the time, your notes were much like Hoseok's but now and then you'd write something a little inappropriate. "I love you Jiminie and hope you have a great day and come back home smiling so I can admire your peach some more." Jimin smiled and held the note a little closer affectionately. "At least I got an 'I love you'." He teased proudly.

Taehyung "I'm sure my babe will have put how much they love me." Taehyung boasted, opening his lunch. Much like Namjoon, Taehyung had a polaroid and he suddenly wondered if you had lent your camera to Namjoon's partner so they could take the photo, or taken it yourself. You weren't shy of naked people and actually liked taking nudes of others, which is why you managed to have almost a whole album of Taehyung's nudes hidden under your bed so none of your friends found them. "Aw, my babies!" He cooed holding the picture of you and your dog up to look at it fondly.

"There's writing on the back," Jin informed, already eating his homemade meal happily.

Taehyung turned the small square over and read your writing with a slight squint. Your handwriting was only neat when slightly oversized so writing at half your normal size meant your lettering almost morphed into one long word. "So you know how we bought those cookies at the store yesterday? Well, I may or may not have eaten them all BUT it was all pup-pup's fault! He made me so he could eat some too!" Taehyung's features screamed betrayal and his friends laughed at his misfortune. "So, you don't have the store bought cookies BUT WE MADE YOU BETTER ONES!" Taehyung's lips curled up slightly as he thought about you baking for him. He carefully placed the polaroid down on his knee only for Jimin to pick it up and coo over how cute you and your dog were. Taehyung looked into his box to find mini heart shaped biscuits with I love you piped onto each with sparkling pink glitter sprinkles on top. "I told you they'd do it!" Taehyung beamed happily, showing the writing on the treats before popping one in his mouth. "Ahhh love tastes so good!"

Jungkook "Finally, my turn!" Jungkook opened the box and grinned at the immaculately prepared lunch in front of him. You always gave him a bigger lunch than any of the others received and it was always presented perfectly. You liked everything you made to look pretty and inviting, you were an aspiring artist after all.

"Hm, you don't have a note," Jin noted confused.

You had been giving Jungkook notes before any of the others got notes from their significant others but that's not surprising when revealed that you and Jungkook had been together since you were both fifteen, longer than any of the other couples.

Jungkook didn't respond but frowned to himself. How could you forget his note? You knew how much he looked forward to them even if he didn't always thank you for the extra effort or state his feelings verbally, he always showed his love and appreciation in other ways.

"Jungkook." BTS' manager called walking into the room. They all looked over to see him holding a giant item, covered by a plain sheet. He looked fed up and annoyed with whatever he held.

"Hyung?" Jungkook replied, getting up to approach as their manager placed the item down carefully, making sure it stood upright. It was the same size as Jungkook.

"You tell Y/N that next time they blackmail me, I will get Bang PD to make you break up with them." He warned but his threat was empty. He had said the same thing many times before.

"Oh, sorry, hyung." Jungkook apologised, eyes flickering to the item. "Is this from Y/N?"

"Yep, have fun." With that, he left the BTS boys to finish their lunch break in peace.

"Ooh, what is it?" Taehyung cooed. "Take the sheet of Jungkookie." He encouraged so Jungkook did, falling to his knees in laughter at the handmade board shaped like him only, entirely naked.

"Of course your partner is as extra as you," Yoongi grumbled, shoving food into his mouth.

"Did Y/N make this?" Jimin asked impressed as he moved over to inspect the board closely. "Ooh, it's a collage!" He announced so all the boys rushed over to see.

"This must've taken ages!" Jin gasped in awe.

The board consisted of thousands of little hand drawn pictures of things Jungkook liked, things that made him smile. The individual pictures weren't obvious until the viewer got close enough. From a distance, it just looked like the board was coloured in a pixel style, your personal preference for colouring to give your work it's own unique stamp.

"Must be why I wasn't allowed in the spare room." Jungkook realised as he eyed your work. He knew it took you weeks to complete, hours a day spent locked in the spare room of your shared apartment while Jungkook played his video games to stop himself sulking at the lack of attention.

"A note!" Hoseok exclaimed pulling a note from the back as he walked around to inspect your artistic abilities, he half expected the back to have Jungkook's backside on but, it was just bare. "Awww." He cooed as he started to read it automatically. “Things that make up my world, Jeon Jungkook.”

"Hey! That's mine!" Jungkook argued, taking the paper with a pout while Hoseok giggled. Jungkook walked away to read it, his smile brightening with every word until his cheeks hurt and his eyes glistened with tears.

"Are you crying?" Namjoon asked as he walked back into the room, cheeks tinged pink from exertion but no-one pointed it out.

"Kook won," Hoseok announced, knowing Jungkook wanted to have a moment to collect himself. "Y/N made this and wrote the cutest note I have ever read. If I wasn't already in love with my own jagi, I'd say I just fell for Y/N."

"Oh, it was that good?" Namjoon lifted his eyebrows in surprise.

Even though you didn't hide your love for Jungkook, it wasn't something you boasted about. If it was mentioned, you'd happily talk about how he was your everything, your reason for smiling every day and trying to make something of yourself to make him proud, most of the time, you two were just a really chill couple. You teased each other and had playfights just like you had your whole lives, even before your relationship started. It was rare for you two to get publically sappy so they were all surprised that you wrote him such a note and left it somewhere anyone could find it.

"I think...I'm engaged." Jungkook finally announced, looking over at his hyungs, a shit eating grin on his face. He walked over to the board and found the hidden compartment in the stand to pull out a silver ring. He laughed, tears in his eyes and put it on his ring finger.

"Our baby is all grown up!" Hoseok screeched before pouncing on Jungkook with a congratulatory hug. They each took their turn to congratulate the maknae for his sudden engagement.

As they sat down to eat their lunch and discuss Jungkook's future wedding and life as a married man, they knew that no note would ever beat Jungkook's proposal.

A/N- WHY DID I MAKE IT END LIKE THIS WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME WHY DID I WRITE JUNGKOOK GETTING ENGAGED IT WAS JUST SUPPOSED TO BE A NUDEY COLLAGE WITH A DUMB NOTE WHY DID I GET ALL SOFT???!

Masterlist

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jiminpoppins · 7 years

Text

Note: this is a continuation of a post // extremely long

101 reasons why Jikook/Kookmin is my ultimate OTP or 101 times Jikook made my heart flutter (Part 2)

PART 1

51) A jikook compilation wouldn’t be a compilation without THE back hugs.

Hands on waist...

Chin on shoulder...

52) Not long after Jimin tweeted a pic of ramen, Jungkook indirectly replied to him by posting FOUR selcas of him along with a message telling him his ramen looked bland. idk about you but i found this interaction cute.

53) The artistic couple.The muscle pig and manggaetteok drawings that were featured in Snow App. They even drew the chicken drawings on the menu at Isac. I can imagine them sitting and drawing random things together. ㅠㅠ

54) Jimin posted not one but three videos on Jungkook’s birthday, which means he wished Jungkook three times on SNS and made my head spin thrice.

55) Jimin and Jungkook took photos of each other sleeping.

56) When Jungkook thought there was no camera around when they were rounding the corner so he went up to Jimin and slid his hand around his waist. Little did he know they got caught on camera. I’d like to thank Yoongi’s vj for this awesome footage.

57) The many times Jimin has summoned Jungkook for Armys. In simpler words, Jungkook always tweets something after Jimin, and we all know how seldom he appears on Twitter.

58) “hyung has cute toes” Okay but like who lingers around his friend’s photo shoot and randomly blurts out that he has cute..toes????

59) The look! Jungkook’s expression when he’s feeding Jimin earns him a spot on this list haha. Tbh They’re kinda like eyefucking eo when jimin’s being fed. look at Jimin’s eyes. Apart from that I like how Jungkook fed him.

60) Their interactions the whole ISAC. Masterlist 👣

61) How can I miss this? Jikook in Japan..this one has a special place in my heart. Back in 2016, it had been just a casual discussion between me and my friends on kakao. Never thought jikook would continue displaying PDA every single time they go to Japan. What’s more when they have very strict no-camera policy during concerts.

62) The amount of heart eyes they shoot at each other.

63) When they had a dinner date in the dorm to promote Mala Hot Chicken. What baffled me was that Jungkook mentioned beforehand he wanted to sleep but he still accompanied Jimin. I’m soft.

64) Jimin has made it very apparent, truly obvious that he likes jungkook. Whether it’s liking him as a dongsaeng, or just someone he’s extremely comfortable with, Jimin always, without failing, reminds us who he dotes on. “Why do I like you so much?” Lately, I’ve been crazy because I like Jungkook so much. I think of this as a start of something beautiful, and I am so glad Jimin didn’t even hesitate in expressing his feelings towards the maknae. I think this might have helped jungkook unwind. Look at jungkook now. That’s some character development right there :)

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65) Massage. Quoted line from AHL mentor, Tony Jones “They are very touchy feely and to them, it’s nothing. I’d walk into the room and Suga’s massaging V’s neck or Jimin’s giving Jungkook an intimate back massage..”

66) When Jungkook bent down so he would get closer to Jimin and put the rein-kook headband on Jimin’s head. They’re separated a lot of times during fansigns but somehow they managed to get tgt at the end.

67) When Jungkook blows a kiss, then turns to Jimin whose lips are puckered and does the same to him, using the same fingers he used earlier. Okay I’ve been meaning to say this. Realistically speaking, if you pucker your lips and you put your fingers on them, wouldn’t your saliva stick to your fingers? I’m not trying to imply anything here, just genuinely asking haha. 140529 Ameba Studio

68) When a webtoon artist gave Jimin two dolls, but Jimin decided to give one to Jungkook. She even posted a webtoon of them. To be honest who wouldn’t?

69) *screams to the people in the back* ALL-NIGHTER FRIENDS!!! As written by the man himself, “ALL the time, it’s just the two of us doing something at night. I don’t know what we do”

70) Jungkook scribbling hearts all over Jimin’s birthday drawing. He’s one whipped man.

71) Just other instances Jungkook and Jimin flirting on stage.

//gif above isn’t mine//

72) When Jimin and Jungkook chose each other when asked “if you were a girl, who would you date?”

73) The shocking fact that Jungkook demanded an apartment from Jimin as a graduation gift. Like, apartment? of all things? What kind of domesticity is this?

74) The way Jungkook takes care of Jimin even though he’s the younger one, and how Jimin is there when he’s the one seeking comfort.

75) I will never forget the Gayo Back hug, ever. I’ve mentioned back hug somewhere above, but this is different.This deserves a point of its own.

76) When Jimin took off one of his rings at the airport and gave it to jungkook.

77) When Jungkook stopped in front of Jimin during his part in For You at Osaka concert, and kind of directed the lyrics for Jimin. Jimin just couldn’t stop smiling afterward :((( The lyrics are: It smells like you The road that I walk on I plug my earphone to my status My true feelings lie beyond there

78) When Jimin and Jungkook steered away from the bunch and instead opted for some alone on the cruise. people say you smile the brightest when you’re with someone you love, yes?

79) The fact that Jimin wanted to become napa cabbage after seeing Kook dressed up as a bunny, so he could eat him, albeit choosing to be cheese initially. What even is that statement lol 👣

80) The morph of their dynamic. I kind of miss their old moments, when Jimin was bolder, more carefree, and Jungkook seemed to be too shy to reciprocate. (on camera). Now they have matured. They have grown up well. A wave of nostalgia sweeps over me. The transition of their relationship is extremely beautiful.

81) When Jimin became Jungkook’s makeup artist for a day, hovering around the set, even drawing a pic of a bird that’s used as a prop later.

82) their size difference might be exaggerated at times, but you really can’t deny that it is cute, even if it’s not much.

83) When Jungkook changed the lyrics in Spring Day to Jimin. Like a small piece // Of Jimin // That floats in the air

84) When Jungkook showed to the world what a sweet boyfriend he is,making jimin laugh, sitting him on his lap, hugging him on his birthday. Sweet sweet jungkookie.

85) Let’s state the obvious- 21CG choreos!!! i love how they evolved, just like their remarkable, legendary nmd lift.

86) Their sensual dance covers.

87) When Jungkook guides and encourages Jimin during games/missions.

88) The many times Jimin has been spotted wearing Jungkook’s clothes, despite the well-known fact that Jungkook doesn’t share clothes. Newsflash: Jungkook wears Jimin’s too!

89) We know Jungkook knows Jimin like the back of his hand, but that doesn’t mean that Jimin knows any less. I think they spend time together way too much.👣

90) How often the word “JIMIN” trips off Jungkook’s tongue- this what fascinates me the most. At one time he even mistook Jin for Jimin.

91) Jimin’s eagerness to kiss Jungkook for his Coming of Age, being the first one to hold out a hand for a game of Rock Paper Scissors. Bon Voyage season 1

92) When Jimin waited over an hour for Kook to finish filming BTS Flower Boy mini drama, even though he’d finished his part. Jimin couldn’t even stay mad at him for not telling, like how fond is he?

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93) The fact that Jungkook is more than comfortable speaking in banmal with Jimin.He once said in Idol Party that he prefers talking in jeondaetmal (polite language) with his hyungs but look at the amount of times he’s dropped the honorific and called Jimin by his name. uhm, let’s talk about treating the other as equals?

94) Jimin and Jungkook, the human embodiment of Piske Usagi.

95) When Jungkook’s bro drew Jungkook as Muzi and Jimin as Con, the inseparable duo on Kakao. Bro knows. 👣

96) In Kkul FM 2016, When Jungkook and Jimin nearly intertwined their fingers . Scoffs bh seemed to think it’s okay to abruptly cut off their scene. What intrigues me most is that they weren’t even looking but their hands still somehow managed to find their way around. Also other instances they hold hands. I love how Jungkook’s slightly bigger hands envelop Jimin’s smaller ones. *Jimin’s pinky tho!*

97) How they’re destined to meet. The fact that they’re both from Busan, have matching moles, Jungkook’s bro named Junghyun and Jimin’s bro named Jihyun..imagine what would’ve happened had Jimin not been the last one to enter Bangtan.

98) When Jimin said he'd be looking at the ocean with Jungkook but Jungkook straight up rejected him and chose to go on a trip with his bro instead. It was quite a strong statement but a moment later Jungkook proved it wrong by reaching out and squeezing Jimin’s hand underneath the table, kinda like a reassurance that it’s all part of a joke. He cares. He truly does.

99) During Jin’s birthday prank at MAMA, these two couldn’t keep their hands off each other. The moment they entered the bathroom, they almost shut everything out-talking to themselves, picking on the cake- until the members gave them the signal to stop w/e they’re doing. Months later Mama kindly revealed another footage, this time consisting of just them, in the bathroom, jungkook right in the middle of buttoning up his jacket, wearing nothing underneath. How was I supposed to sit still?

100) When Jungkook and Jimin take skinship to a whole new level, or simply put, the times Jikook makes us question the real intention behind their acts and excessive skinship.

101) Last but not least, Perhaps my all time favorite moment- When Jungkook was caught observing Jimin’s every move, literally had his eyes only on him.

(Mark 1:17 onward)

I super love this video bc the song chosen matched so well with the situation- like they wanted to reach out but couldn’t so they stayed put, could only observe the other from far...

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and that’s it! thank you, you made it to the bottom of this post! In short, everything about jikook makes me feel content. I had thought of doing more but despite my brain literally screaming at me “Include this! You forgot this!”, I had to stick to 101. Anyway, I hope this mends your longing hearts. Have a lovely day! Thank you for reading!

Bonus because I have to:

when the members revealed on BTS KKul FM 2017 that Jungkook bought a birthday present only for Jimin. Am I your favorite hyung?

When Jungkook, the youngest in the group, called Jimin who is 2 years older than him a baby. 애기야가자 !

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violetsystems · 3 years

Text

#personal

It was a productive but discouraging week for the most part. I received my second dose of the Pfizer shot on Wednesday. I felt a little more exhausted than usual but I’m fine. Thursday I had a message in my inbox on LinkedIn about a job. Two or three weeks ago I had applied for another job which was seen but no reply. The offer sounded interesting so I replied and they asked to schedule a phone call. So this was to be the first human interview I’ve had since ten months or so ago. The recruiter’s prescreening went pretty well. The first call. Which means there were a total of about three or four calls in a two hour span. I’ve interviewed a lot of people over the years but never really had the reason to interview myself. That happens when you are consecutively employed for twenty years. So while I am a little rusty, this occasion I had a particularly good opener for a classic question. What drew me to the job in the first place? I had a nametag tucked above a cabinet from 2014 that I had forgotten about. It was from when I attended a lecture by myself about Abenomics and the rebuilding of Japan after the Tsunami. It was at the Federal Reserve Bank of Chicago. It’s pretty tight security in that building. But in 2014 they let a malcontent like myself in there. At the time I was doing a lot of work which LinkedIn now categorizes as “human rights.” Mostly volunteering for local organizations like Japan America Society of Chicago to attend these lectures and even helping run a Korean fest with a chamber of commerce after work. I did all this alone. Mostly to network and meet new people. This is back when I thought meeting new people was the answer. The answer in the interview was a lot shorter but it impressed the screener enough to finish the call and send me the scary forms to fill out. Then there was a call back. “I’m so sorry we forgot to talk about wages.” That really wasn’t my fault. But that is always the hardest part. The job offer was a six month contract and not salary. So I quoted my current hourly rate which was seemingly too high for the recruiter. So they quoted low. Which worked out to be about half of my salary last year without benefits. I still had interest. It was remote work but I’m literally not very far and fully vaccinated. I told them on the first call I had a zero trust office network set up for my consulting. Then the tone started to get weird. I had sent a 2020 resume because it was the most relevant. That did not include my current consulting business. The woman on the second call started to dig deeper after the salary question. “Can you tell me what you’ve been doing since your last job at the school and why you didn’t include it on your resume?” I explained that I formed a LLC back in later December and have been working for smaller clients freelance. She asked me to edit my resume and add this. She wanted it within the hour so she could “sell me to her hiring manager” properly to be considered for an interview. I did so. A third call. “Can you add specifically the types of computers you supported?” That was in there. A request to fill out more scary forms for the federal reserve. A fourth message. “Can you add specifically the types of computer you supported at your old job as well?” It was then I thought something was extremely fishy. So I apologized and rescinded my offer. Then I spent most of the rest of the day feeling like a failure. Discouraging but productive.

I woke up the next morning to an email in my professional inbox from another person at the recruiting agency. It was legal in nature informing me I had the option to file a EEO form. This is tied to equal opportunity insofar that by signing it, the recruiter must by law share with their client all the names of applicants that they screened and probably why. Do I expect any justice? Not really. I don’t know that I would have even been selected if I got the chance to interview. It is a federal job after all. The point is that in the eyes of a hiring manager at a recruitment agency, my resume did not seem strong enough. If learning through failure is apparent, I shudder to think if I didn’t start a company back in December what my next interview would be like. That is if I even get an interview. I was reading this morning that HP and HP Enterprise are being hit with a class action for age discrimination. There’s a lot of reasons for this. But particularly when it comes to the money game, people fresh out of school are easier to leverage. Whether it is tax breaks for hiring new grads or simply cheaper salaries with less experience, the agenda is simple. Save more money so CEO’s and shareholders can get a bigger piece of the cut. Meanwhile, America’s answer is that it is the perfect time to start your own business. Then compete with huge sprawling mega corporations and recruitment firms that have galvanized the employment market with their magic show of balance sheets and deductions. I’m qualified to do a lot of things which is great. I just bought a drone so I could use the SDK to learn Python and UI design. These are great things to add to my resume for 2021. But the likelihood of being employable with no debt to speak of is like kryptonite to the job market. Much less the fact that my entire professional network is scared to admit I’m alive in fear of them being blamed for favoring their job security over friendship. I was very lucky to be where I was at when this happened back in July because of the CARES act. I just finished the personal nightmare side of my taxes from that year on tax day. There’s still my business to do. Which if anything I’m more qualified to do these days, it’s your accounting. Add those skills to the resume stat. Along with all the computers you supported since before you were born. Twice. It still does not matter. And this is where I hit this insane brick wall. I try to be acknowledged and useful. I try to be employable and valuable. And I am treated in such a shitty and abusive way that I’m starting to wonder if I’m better off behind closed doors. I have money. I have deductions. I have time on my hands to organize my life so I don’t spend unwisely. I have a roof over my head with a verbal agreement at best. And I have been living in the oblivion of no one wanting to admit fault or praise since July in varying degrees of comfort. I’ve had people stalk me in the street because of the companies I’ve invested in like they’re the fucking mob. I’ve gone through all of this alone while people have peeped over my shoulder. And I’m supposed to think the law is on my side in a city that shoots thirteen year olds point blank in the chest with their hands up. If I know one thing, it is what I can rely on. And mostly that has been my own instinct, wisdom and prudent decisions. And I know where I’m at at the end of the day. Pretty much at the end of my rope with the whole process of being ignored and treated like some joke. Then there’s people who see me in a different light. A different hue of the spectrum. Easier to read than my resume after it’s been edited fourteen times that’s for sure.

Things are extremely broken. Living in a neighborhood and a sanctuary city sometimes you look for the places that aren’t. Regardless of feeling useless and unemployable, there are times when I feel valued. Times when people in the street follow me around more so in solidarity than fear. People who want to be free to express themselves and look the way they feel. People who don’t want to lower themselves to mediocre standards just to get ahead. People who want to walk around without being judged by people who never critique themselves. As fucked up as everything is, there’s another side to this coin. People do get what I’m about. That meme about people going to your hood or block and never hearing about you? You try that shit with me and you are in for a history lesson these days. There are no shortage of people in Chicago who will tell you all about me. Some of it is skewed. Some of it is nostalgia. And then there’s people in this neighborhood who know all about stuff I haven’t told anyone. Like I don’t sit on the weekends talking to my friends about who I like or who I think the world of. I don’t really have the luxury of trusting many people in my situation. And yet sometimes when I walk out to get groceries or pay the bills, someone is there to say it without even saying it. That people just get what I’m about without me having to say anything. Besides three paragraphs on the internet every week or so. The reason I don’t fuck with people. The reason I keep to myself. The reason I don’t really care if you get me or not. That confidence is something infectious. That after all the fucking shit I’ve been through I keep it real regardless. Every year some troll has to prove me wrong and fails. Every failure proves a very clear point. The problem isn’t me. I’m not invisible. I’m not hard to understand. I’m not a liar or a traitor. I’m literally just existing here while people size me up. Nobody has asked my name or my agenda. Nobody really has had enough of a human conversation to pry it out of me. I’m an only child. I grew up lonely and learned how to survive on my own. I also learned begrudgingly to stand up for myself. It doesn’t mean I don’t like society or am anti social. How the fuck can I be anti social when everyone can’t stop talking about me in public? I understand people are antsy, paranoid and fatigued because of the pandemic. But some of us have literally been rolling through this warzone for years. I’m supposed to feel humbled and privileged to be so lucky to have survived? Fuck you. The number one thing con artists try to do is fuck with your confidence. Because we all know better by this point. America is not working. Specifically we can’t when we’re overqualified and a threat to the natural order of whatever corporate scam is going on these days. The one thing I know is that people with actual money got richer this year. Stocks, 401k’s, CEO salaries, tax breaks, and whatever else you throw in there. If I learned one thing from starting an actual business, it’s that the books are overcooked for a reason. Not that mine are. Years and years of shady deals are hard to cover up. Donald Trump took a loss on his business for years and evaded taxes. I’m technically what they call going concern. But there aren’t many tax breaks for me as a small business. Nor is there much money coming in other than what I can hustle out of the market or royalties. Did I mention I’m royalty? Not in the Prince Harry sense of the word. But I do hold the sword and shield up for feminism in America. That much we’ve learned by now. That and the glass ceiling is harsher for women than it is for me. So maybe I’ll sit this one out and let the ladies take control. In that I know my work is worth something. Just consider me interning for the movement at the moment. And make sure you sign that contract in bright pink because I’m not really paying attention to anything in the red. As far as the federal reserve is concerned, my finances are in the green. <3 Tim

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douchebagbrainwaves · 4 years

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IF IT'S LARGE ENOUGH, THE LACK OF DAMPING MEANS THE BEST WRITING ONLINE SHOULD SURPASS THE BEST IN PRINT

It's hard to predict in advance which startups will succeed, but increasingly they'll have to think about. And if it didn't already mean something, why did we need the phrase at all? Companies that seemed like competitors and threats at first glance does not mean you aren't doing something meaningful, defensible, or valuable. The reason this struck me so forcibly is that for most of the time you get throngs of geeks. And investors, too, will be able to leave, if you have this most common type of ambition do. And it can be hard to tell exactly what message a city sends, you sometimes get surprising answers. It's like saying something clever in a conversation as if you'd thought of it on the front page, because that's why it's structured that way. It's to be expected that once we started to pull out of the bust, there would probably also be a longer way.

An amusing cartoon takes less. Paris was once a great intellectual center. Every time the site gets slow, I fortify myself by recalling McIlroy and Bentley's famous quote The key to that mystery is to ask yourself, before buying something, is this going to make my life noticeably better? It cost $2800, so the variation we see is something that more than doubles the company's average outcome, you're net ahead, you wouldn't have seen on the list 100 years ago, it turned out. Angels are in a different position because they're investing their own money. But I suppose that's bound to yield an alarming book. Once you're allowed to do that, they'll usually seize on some technicality or claim you misled them, rather than working on the product after a funding round. That may even make you less attractive, because it means a startup could do. Angel rounds are their whole business, as online video was for YouTube. And to reproduce that you need those people. I've already mentioned: thoughts about money. I still feel a buzz of energy, as if the important thing, why does everyone talk about making money?

Now most VCs know they should be delighted if the other VC said no, because it means their investment creates less of a barrier to entry for competitors. It's practically a mantra at YC. After a while, but their production. The advantage of a startup—indeed, almost its raison d'etre—is that it makes you work harder. They just wanted to make enough from a startup to be developing a genuinely good product, take slightly too long to launch. This is more pronounced among the very top funds; the lamer ones still want to fund MBAs. Running a business is so much more enjoyable now. One of our axioms at Y Combinator. That would definitely happen if programmers started to use handhelds as development machines—if handhelds displaced laptops the way laptops displaced desktops. One is that you are already working as hard as you possibly can for four.

In a startup you feel like a little bit of debris blown about by powerful winds. A restaurant can afford to be. It is also palpably short. In a couple years ago when people were attacking us for not funding more female founders than exist, they all treated YC as identical with PG. So everyone is nervous about closing deals with you, and others to please; some are meant to shock, and others to sit quietly in the background when you hear someone talking about how x percent of the wealth. In effect, acquirers assume the customers know who has the best technology. Suppose you are a little, nimble guy being chased by a big, stable organization from which it would be bad advice. So obviously the reaction of investors is not a very meaningful test. It was kind of intimidating at first. Since we did continuous releases, our software didn't actually have versions. It's that the detour the language makes you take is longer. Was it their religion?

And I don't think Apple realizes how badly the App Store. But of course they like companies that could go public. So ironically the original description of the Web 2. I look back at photos from the 1970s, I'm surprised how empty houses look. Why are there so many startups. The smart ones learn who the other smart ones are, and together they cook up new projects of their own. I realized we can also attack the problem downstream. There are sources of error in your own judgements. Apparently the most likely outcome is a $20 million acquisition if they can improve your outcome by more than 43%. But because the Soviet Union didn't have a computer industry, it remained for them a theory; they didn't have hardware capable of executing the calculations fast enough to design an actual airplane. The reason I describe this as a danger is that series A investors often make companies take more money than a job, as if it were hard to reproduce in other countries, because you really would rather raise money from A, but you can at least approach that by getting rid of the sources of error in your own judgements. One minor abuse that will get corrected in the process.

If a startup gets into real trouble, instead of making users happy. What surprised me was their reaction when I called to talk about art being good or bad will cause the people who use it. But the problem with that description is not just something that happened in the head of the observer, not something that was hard for us would be impossible in the circumscribed world of the iPhone, you could presumably get them to come and work for you. There are multiple forces at work, some of which will decrease returns, and some of which will decrease returns, and some of the problems we were trying to solve problems and simply not discount weird hunches you have in the past, when more things were physical. On the other hand, startup investing is a very strange business. ITunes as Web 1. And that's where the money is. I asked some friends, and the 2. 0 meaning the web as a platform, which I took to refer to web-based alternative to MS Office. Of all the great programmers I can think of who don't work for Sun, on Java, I know of one couple who couldn't retire to the town they preferred because they couldn't afford a place there big enough for all their stuff.

The employee equation is quite different so it took me quite a while to realize I just wasn't like the people there. What happened to him? Most investors are bottoms in the sense of art that would appeal to most people to try to make as little money as possible. But as long as they want to be able to enjoy them in peace. Users have worried about that since the site was a few months from now. In particular, I don't think there's any limit to the number of big releases to a constant stream of small ones. Was it their religion? But they won't always have to guess. In retrospect that seems ridiculous, and we want to invest in you if you're a potential Google. And the fact that most good startup ideas generally seem wrong.

We inserted him as a ringer in case some competitor tried to spam our web designers. And from that point the chain reaction would be self-sustaining. Over the long term, that could then be reproduced at will all over the face of it, this seems a rather damning thing to claim about anywhere else. They do something people want. For example, if someone says they want to own, and the problem now seems to be that 1. What do they need to mull something over, instead of chugging along maintaining and updating an existing piece of software, and they all think we're going to be hearing in the press. When a large tract has been developed by a Soviet mathematician. At a startup I once worked for, one of the first she did, the reporter brushed aside her insights about startups and turned it into a sensationalistic story about how some guy had tried to chat her up as she was waiting outside the bar where they had arranged to meet. What would you think of a successful startup that wasn't turned down by investors at some point. In an earlier essay I said that VCs were a lot smaller in 1998. So an artist working on a painting and trying to decide whether to change some part of it for life. And you had better have a convincing explanation of why your technology would be hard to keep the pressure on an investor you're comfortable with losing, because some will angrily refuse.

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scartale-an-undertale-au · 7 years

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Papers of Homelessness - Chapter 44

(This banner had been made by the awesome and amazing artist @benteja. i am so honored that she had drawn this banner for this story. please go and show her all the love in the world that she deserves!!! \[^o^]/)

BEFORE | NEXT

a/n: once, again, i’m so sorry for putting this chapter out so late. so as an apology, i am giving you two chapter in one update. (length wise).

enjoy~

“Of course you can stay!” Mom sounded ecstatic, barely managing to stop herself from hugging the small young woman. Which was a fortunate thing, since she was driving the car at the moment and you weren’t in the mood to get into a car crash.

Frisk seemed pleased, looking to the window and then back to her lap. You huffed amusingly and placed your elbow on the door, resting your cheek on your fist and looking at the passing lights.

Your mind wandered to the visions you have been seeing. You ran away from there, leaving those kids behind. Were they still there? Still fighting after all those years? Were they dead? Alive?

Did that Void guy went looking for you? Or didn’t care since you were only a doll? Your chest clenched in humiliation at that. You were robbed your identity and freedom and was called a bloody doll.

An entertainment.

You hated the disgusting feeling as if you were used. You wanted to forget all of those memories, and yet… yet you were curious, you needed to know about your life before Asriel found you.

And besides, you didn’t have much of a choice from the last several sessions of forced memories.

You weren’t looking forward for future visions.

“Chara.” You were shaken out of your thoughts by a hand on your shoulder and you looked up to see Frisk, who was already half out of the car. You blinked and returned to the window, realizing that you got to your house already.

You didn’t even notice the time passing. You must be really out of it… not surprising since this whole afternoon was just one big trip.

You sighed and slowly got out of the car, immediately greeted by Frisk’s hand. You slumped and grabbed her hand, feeling like a little baby with how you were treated.

You entered the house—

“Think fast!”

You were nearly tackled down by a big body colliding onto you. Your body tensed and you grabbed a long arm and ducked and turned in place, wringing yourself out of the hold and pulling the big invader onto the floor.

“OUCH! WHAT THE HELL, CHARA?” You blinked and Asriel’s fallen form went into focus. The taller baby whined, struggling in place. You released your brother only to lightly kick his stomach.

“Don’t jump on me, you idiot crybaby,” You scowled, “You nearly gave me a heart attack. What are you even doing here?—”

“Asriel Rovias Dreemurr, I told you that Chara was in no playing mood!” Your mother reprimanded the whining baby, who sat up while rubbing his arm. Asriel huffed and stood up, dusting his clothing and massaging his bruised cheek.

“Frisk, are you alright?” Your mom asked and you looked down to see said woman standing before Asriel, looking up with their hood down. Asriel gulped and you could only guess that she was glaring at them.

THUMP.

“OW!” Asriel bent over, clutching his stomach and Frisk folded her arms.

“Chara is hurting… don’t hurt him even more,” She sounded upset. She was probably much more scared than you if she was lashing out. You strode to her and pulled her back, looking at her sternly.

“Frisk, no punching my brother. He’s an idiot, but that’s still no reason to punch him.”

Frisk looked at the fallen Asriel, her fingers twitching. “He hurt you…”

“He didn’t, though.”

“…”

You sighed and patted her hair, then yanked at your brother’s arm, helping him up. “Az, Frisk is on a rage road, don’t annoy her.”

“I can see that…” Asriel whined, rubbing his stomach. “I’m not a punching bag!”

You smirked softly and patted his arm. “At least you found your purpose in life.”

“Hey!”

“Boys.”

Asriel and you exchanged looks and shrugged, going into the newly unlocked house. Frisk walked between you and your brother, blatantly unhappy. You brushed a hand through your hair and scratched your nape, wondering what had gotten into her.

Your mom was waiting for you at the door to the kitchen, and when you reached her she ruffled your hair and gestured to the door. “Want to make some soup with me?”

You glanced back to Frisk and Asriel, wondering if the house would burn down, but decided to join your mother.

Frisk could use a cooling down moment.

“Really mom?” You deadpanned as she pushed to you the bowl. She grinned knowingly.

“You always loved that, so what’s wrong now?”

“Out of season, no?”

“It’s never out of season for matzo balls. Besides, I’m sure that Frisk had never tried it and it’s a must.” The bowl was forced into your hands and you resigned yourself to your fate, begrudgingly a bit happy. Matzo ball soup was a comfort food for you and you didn’t realize how much comfort you needed until that moment.

“You’re so pushy.”

“I know. But a mom always knows what her child needs,” Your mom smiled and hugged you for a moment before returning to her vegetables. “Now hurry up so we could actually have food by dinner. You’re lucky that I have some leftover soup in the fridge.”

“Alright, alright.” You rolled your eyes and placed the water and chicken soup powder on the fire, then begun to mix the matzo meal and the other ingredients. The soft sounds of cutting from your mother’s and the crackling of the fire slowly seeped into your tense muscles and loosened them. You felt a bit giddy when you formed the balls in your hands and threw them in the boiled water and powder mix.

Just like before.

“Not too big, David,” Soft hands bigger than your pudgy ones encased your sticky fingers. “You want them firm and chewy, no?”

“Listen to your mother. She knows best.”

“Darling, don’t quote from movies just to prove a point. Besides, I’m not the evil mother.”

“Mommy’s nice!” You giggled and clapped your sticky fingers, accidentally dropping the balled mix to the floor. You stared at it and then grinned happily and took more mix out and dropped it to the floor.

“Oh, dear! David, do not throw food!” You whined and struggled as your fun was cut off. You heard deep laughter as a bigger hand than the soft hands stopping your fun ruffled your hair.

“You need a shower, little guy.”

“Noooo!”

You blinked, feeling more peaceful than what you thought another vision would bring.

“Chara?” You looked up to see your mother inspect you worryingly. You gave her a thumb up and presented her with the pot filled with the floating matzo balls and water. She relaxed and you gave her a knowing stare.

“Who is David?”

She tensed, the spoon falling from her hand and cluttering on the floor. She apologized and picked it up, putting it in the left sink and went to get another one. You stepped into her path.

“Mom. Who is David?” You asked again. The abnormally tall woman seemed smaller than usual, her paleness giving her a ghostly appearance. “Is there a reason as to why you won’t tell me?” You gently asked her, not wanting to terrify her, placing a hand on her shaking palms. She hung her head down.

“The doctor told me not to so you could remember correctly. I always wanted to tell you, especially when you became an adult, but I didn’t want to make you remember wrong things…” She explained. “Could you forgive me?”

I nodded. “Of course… But now that I’m remembering, I need context. I need to know. If I try to explain it myself, I’ll probably end up with a theory out of the books.” I shrugged and forced a chuckle, “You know, like I was kidnapped or something.”

Mom was silent.

You raised a brow. “Mom?”

“…How about I explain it after dinner?” She sighed and straightened up, looking wearier than before. “Please?”

You nodded.

Why did it feel as if you had just opened a Pandora box?

Frisk and Asriel were seated in different couches, as far away as possible. But Frisk was doodling on a small notepad with a black pencil and Asriel was taking photos with his phone.

You quirked a brow. “So is everything alright now? No fighting?”

Asriel and Frisk looked up and then at each other and then away. You sighed. Seemed like they weren’t comfortable with each other yet even after meeting twice. Bad first impressions did a lot of damage, huh?

“Asriel, come for dinner. And Frisk, can you help me set the table?” Your mother smiled, still looking too sad for your liking. Frisk nodded and placed down the notepad, getting up to help her.

Out of curiosity, you picked up the notepad. It had been such a long time since you saw a drawing from Frisk.

It was of an unfamiliar man who held similar features to Frisk’s yet much more masculine. Her father? It looked pretty unrefined for her previous drawings.

Feeling like treading on a thin line, you placed down the notepad and went to Asriel. “What are you doing, you crybaby?”

Asriel huffed at the nickname and then smirked, patting his phone. “Sent you some nice pictures.”

“Pictures?”

“You’ll see,” Asriel winked and chortled when you tried to grab his phone. “Let me have this at least, you shitty brother!”

“I swear if you send me d—” I went for his hair.

“I didn’t! I promise! I made that mistake once!” The crybaby eep'ed and ducked under your hand and jumped out of the couch, standing so he was taller than you and holding the phone higher than can you reach. You gritted your teeth in annoyance. How you hated his height…

“Boys! Stop fighting and come to the table!” Your mother called and Asriel cheered.

“Saved by the bell!” He dashed to the dining table, where Frisk and your mother sat down already. You joined them, glaring at Asriel, and sat next to Frisk.

This time dinner was less of an awkward affair as Asriel and your mother offered a good distraction. Frisk ate quietly, but nodded when adressed

You couldn’t focus on the conversation despite wanting to, your mind wandering to your vision and your mother’s confession. She probably knew a lot more about your old life. Or at least about what had happened to put you in that park that day.

And what did put you in the park. You recalled attacking Asriel and feeling… wariness? From a kid? Well, from your visions, kids could be cruel.

Sadly, the soup was still not ready so you had to content yourself with meatloaf and potatoes… which wasn’t bad, but you wanted your matzo balls.

Okay, now you were sounding like a little kid.

Frisk nudged your feet with hers and you looked up. She gestured to the side of your mouth and you poked the place and realized that some potato was on your face. You quickly cleaned it, feeling embarrassed. Frisk nodded and returned to her meal, Asriel’s and your mother’s voices echoing in the background.

It was nice.

It was even better when you got up to get the soup and the matzo balls, dividing the soup and the kneidlach between the four of you. Finally, you sat down and took a bite.

It felt nostalgic. The firmness yet fluffiness of the kneidlach, the soup giving the matzo taste salty chicken flavor. It was just like you liked it.

It was a bit too hot though so you immediately took a sip of your water to cool it down. Your mother chuckled and you turned red, remembering how you would always do it.

“So impatient,” She would always say.

This time, her chuckling faded and she simply stared at her bowl.

You blinked, feeling off at the disruption of the usual response, and lowered your spoon to gaze at your mother.

“What is it, mom?”

She flinched and lowered her spoon, her face clouded. Asriel noticed the change and his voice dropped as he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Mom?”

“…I wanted to keep it until after the food. But… it’s gnawing at me too much to wait any longer… I’m sorry for ruining your moment, Chara.”

You shook your head, body tense in anticipation with knowing that you were going to hear the truth now. “I need to know.”

“…Alright.”

Asriel seemed confused. “Wait, what are we talking about? What truth? Do I need to leave?”

Your mother shook her head. “No, it involves you as well. Your father and I agreed not to tell you either in fear that you would run to Chara and spill it all.”

Not an unfounded worry, you snorted at Asriel’s affronted gaping. Younger Asriel loved to tell you about everything that he had found that day. Even if was about a stupid stone found on the street.

“What about Frisk then?”

Frisk looked at you and you shook your head. “She needs to know as well. I don’t want to keep this a secret from her.”

Frisk seemed relieved, and you found her hand and gave it a big squeeze before releasing it. You face your mother. “So what exactly had me hide in that park that day?”

“…You ran away.”

You… expected that, surprisingly.

“Who did I run away from?”

“…I think you called him ‘Void’.”

…That was less surprising.

“Who was he to me?”

“Your kidnapper.”

“Wait, what?” You drew on a blank. You were only joking when you presumed that you got kidnapped. You didn’t actually believe that that would be the case.

Your mother sighed. “I’ll explain from the beginning…

Fourteen years ago, there was a big scandal all over the country and neighboring countries. Tenths of couples were found out dead in their bed during the night. The only thing connecting them was one fact: all were parents to a single child. And that child was missing.

You were one of those kids.”

You felt as if something heavy dropped into your stomach. You didn’t know why you were expecting them to still be alive after all those years, but…

Dead?

“Then my biological parents…”

Your mother looked down and nodded. “Yes.”

Frisk squeezed your hand.

You swallowed past the clog in your throat. “What happened to the kids?”

Your mother looked grim. “The kids were sent to, according to the reports, to different sections in the black market. Child trafficking, if you will.”

And you ended up with Void. Did he actually pay for your guys? Why? For what reason? Just kill your parents and take you away like some kind of a toy? You felt anger bubble in your stomach and you felt sick from thinking about so many kids still stuck in the trafficking ring you had managed to escape.

What made you special? Why were you the one allowed to escape while they rotted in there?

Asriel gulped, looking sick. “What sections? Where did Chara ended up at?”

Your mother shook as she answered. “Some were slaves. Some were sent to childless families that weren’t able to get kids legally. Some… some went into the brothels or as pets. And Chara’s group… went to the fighting arenas.”

Your thoughts cleared.

It felt as if something that had been clouded up until now was now as clear as glass.

It all made so much sense.

The fighting you felt forced to. Void’s trainings. The other kids’ behavior. The fear.

Your urges.

Asriel’s eyes widened and he snapped his head to you, watering with shock and fear for you. You shrugged halfheartedly, trying not to show how much you were affected.

How it seemed that your world had turned upside down for you. Yet… it felt as if the pieces finally clicked into place. You didn’t know what you were feeling, confused or relieved? Scared? Or maybe just numb?

Also, it was a bit weird. You thought that you would hear something about an abusive caretaker or something. You would have never expected to find out something so out of this world.

Kidnapped? Parents murdered? Forced into fighting as a kid warrior?

What were you, a protagonist in some shitty novel?

That was insane.

“How long was I there? Three years?”

She nodded.

“Any idea how I escaped?”

She shook her head. “You had lost your memory after you had woken up and none of us tried to force out the memory. You did seem to have a lot of nightmares involving hiding so we assumed that you hid somewhere and then escaped but we don’t know.”

You had one more question. “Mom… Who was I?”

She swirled her spoon in the cooling soup. “David Goldsmith. Your mother, Racheli, and I knew each other from my hometown’s Synagogue. I had recognized you the moment I had seen you. Despite me moving and marrying out of religion, we kept in touch. She sent me a lot of pictures of you.”

Another puzzle piece clicking into place.

Her expression softened and her gaze glazed over. “She and Yishay, your father, had tried for years to give birth to you. And I still remember you as a newborn, clinging to her as she cried from joy. You were so adorable. We talked for years about setting you and Asriel as playmates and we even had plans to do so that summer… but then… she was dead and you were gone. You were actually one of the only cases of recorded struggling. Neighbors said that they heard screaming and banging from your house.

…Your parents fought very hard for you. They loved you dearly.”

She trailed off.

You stared at her in shock.

You actually had a family before that day at the park. You had a history. A history that you mother knew of. Your family wasn’t made up of strangers. It was a family that was closer than thought before.

A family that loved you.

A family that died trying to save you.

You unclenched your fists that you suddenly noticed were nearly tearing your shirt. You took a deep breath and with a voice more strained than you thought it would be, you asked. “Can I… do you have photos?”

Your mother smiled in relief and nodded, standing and rushing to the bedrooms. Asriel stood up and circled the table with the chair, sitting down and drawing you to a tight embrace. You didn’t hug back, unable to move much. You felt a small hand on your thigh but heard nothing from its owner. Frisk stared at the now cold bowl of soup.

You felt slightly numb.

That whole ordeal felt way too surreal. You were waiting for someone to call 'prank’ and for your mother to say that your parents simply passed away due to a car crash or something else that was not so dramatic as to being murdered by the underworld.

Was she sure? Could she have gotten the wrong child? You weren’t that odd of a person… were you?

“Here you go.”

An old looking album was pushed into your hands and you mechanically moved your hand to open it and stared at the first pictures, not comprehending.

A tiny tan skinned woman clad in a hospital gown with a head scarf holding back her mound of brown hair was cradling a small bundle. A pale skinned and red cheeked baby was sleeping in it. Sitting by the hospital bed was a bigger light skinned man with auburn hair wearing a black suit and a black kippah on his head. Both were smiling brightly, their eyes watery.

Next to it was written 'David’s first day in the world. Welcome, little star.’

The other three pictures were the same, only a close-up of the baby and the woman. You were about to flip the page but your mother gently pried the album out.

“I’m sorry, Chara… but I don’t want to risk having your memories coming back wrongly. I promise that later I’ll show you.”

She placed the album on the table and Asriel stepped aside, letting her bend down and engulf you with her arms. “I love you, Chara. I’m sorry for hiding this from you.”

You didn’t reply.

You didn’t know how.

You felt better, knowing the truth. But… you also felt.. detached? Like that was happening to David, not to Chara.

It was too confusing.

…

How do you continue from this?

#undertale #charisk #toriel #asriel #frisk (undertale)#undertale chara #papers of homelessness #flashback #kidnapping #death #void #fanfiction #fanfic #chapter 44

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lesbiandanieljacobi · 7 years

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Eleven Questions Meme! Except I got tagged three times, so you get thirty-three and they’re under a cut.

From @phynali

1. if you were Not A Mammal, what (other) animal would you be? I’d rather like to be a kiwi.

2. what AU would you kill to see someone write about your OTP? Okay I really would adore a Notting Hill ColdWave AU

3. do you like crossover fics/stories? (e.g., blending marvel and dc?) why or why not? If they’re written well, I love them.

4. what’s the last piece of fiction you read that you would recommend? I re-read Good Omens on the train, so that.

5. your thoughts about poetry? do you write it? I love it (Byron, Ginsberg, Hughes and Siken are my favorites) and I write it.

6. what’s one period of history (from any place) you find interesting and want to either learn more about or teach others about? I want to know more about pre-Roman Britain and I love teaching people about Gay Lib or NZ history.

7. salty or sweet? Depends on the occasion.

8. feelings about gift-giving? enjoy it? find it burdensome? think it’s too commercial? ritualized? etc? I love it - I believe in the smaller version, though, little things with meaning, not big things.

9. vampires: yay or nay? Anything but Twilight is yay.

10. what’s one trope you love and can’t get enough of, no matter the medium in which it arises (tv, film, fic, etc)? I am a sucker for foe yay or arguing into kissing.

11. are you a morning shower person or a night shower person? or the elusive bubble baths person? I’m a “after practice whenever that is” person. With “Hot Baths Because I Cannot Walk Thanks To Muscle Soreness” as a caveat.

from @blackbat16

Do you watch countdown videos on YouTube? If so, do you put them on as background noise or actually pay attention to them? If not, what’s your go-to mindless YT entertainment? I don’t really? I do love Buzzfeed Unsolved and Assassin’s Creed play-throughs.

If you start a book series and get past the first novel, only to find your interest waning, will you finish the series or will you abandon it entirely? I tend to drop it. Back in the day when I had more time I would have kept reading, but I’m a Humanities Major now and I have Too Much Reading.

Do you like Shakespeare? YES.

How many pillows are on your bed? How many of them are actually under your head while you sleep? Four, and three of them.

Steampunk or solarpunk? Steampunk. (I just now had an idea about steampunk Labor Unions and I’m going to die if I don’t write this)

Have you ever addressed an idol/celebrity over social media and had them answer you? If so, tell! If not, what were you trying to talk with them about? I haven’t ever tried to talk to a celebrity on social media? I’m too scared.

When it comes to posters, do you use tape, adhesive putty, tacks, or do you frame them? Frame.

What band/artist do you think you’ve listened to most in your life? Either Billy Bragg or Bastille.

Funko Pops: yay or nay? YAY I have six and three in my dorm room.

Do you pair and fold socks? (My mother doesn’t. Baffles me.) Yes, religiously.

What’s an old meme you’d love to bring back? I loved i lik the bred I want it back.

from @peppersandcats

1. What was your first favourite book? (If not book, movie.) Tamora Pierce’s Protector Of The Small

2. How often do you light candles? Whenever I can (which is not often bc my dorm won’t let us).

3. Would you rather go on a road trip or have a party at your house/apartment? Road Trip, hands down.

4. What was the last group event (can be ticketed) you went to that you were really happy to be at? My team does study sessions? Those are fun.

5. What hobby/fandom do you enjoy but not get to talk about much?

6. What’s your favourite breakfast? Omelettes with feta and spinach or skillets with bacon and potatoes and avocado. It’s a treat breakfast.

7. What helps when you’re feeling sad? (It can be as weird or as small as you like, that’s fine. E.g. I watch the “Tiger Millionaire” episode of Steven Universe. A lot.) I make coffee, put on some music, and put on some really pretty make up.

8. What’s the last piece of fiction you read that you’d want to recommend? The Luminaries. Iconic book.

9. Zombies or the Cthulhu Mythos? Cthulhu - there’s so much more you can explore with it.

10. How hard is it for you to declutter? I cannot clutter in the first place it gives me anxiety.

11. What’s the neatest cryptid you know of? Where did you hear about it? A straight man who isn’t an ass or wearing salmon shorts on my college campus and it’s spoken of in whispers bc we don’t want the Haverbros to know we’re speaking of them (they might think we’re straight)

My Questions are:

What is one story you love from your family history?

Are you superstitious?

Do you believe in fairies?

What is a favorite quote for encouragement?

Name one character you identify with almost too much.

What is your favorite non-English word?

If you could meet any dead writer, who would it be?

What is your favorite protest sign/slogan from the last year.

Do you have a style icon and if so, who?

What id one language you’d love to learn?

If you could live in any fictional universe, what universe? And what would be your profession?

I’m gonna tag @wreathedinscales @asexual-fandom-queen @diaaanaprince @runawaymarbles @forthegelt @robininthelabyrinth @tomasortega @katyakora @snarkysnartes @kingsmanassemble @1nickelonly. Have fun, guys!

#prouves answers #eleven questions

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aion-rsa · 5 years

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Rick And Morty Comics Are Worth Your Time Too

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The Rick And Morty comics are a consistently solid fix of the adventures TV show fans know and love...

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Once they managed to get McDonald’s to reproduce the Szechuan sauce first produced in 1998 for the release of Mulan, Rick and Morty established itself as part of the television furniture. As every struggling creative knows, however, success like this doesn’t come overnight. In the beginning (during the Earth year 2006), Justin Roiland created a short called The Real Animated Adventures of Doc and Mharti for Channel 101. If you haven’t seen it, then it doesn’t really have much in common with the end product so I wouldn’t worry about it. But when Dan Harmon came calling after his work on Community, Roiland suggested developing something based on the short.

From there, the program went through a series of retools until they ended up with a half-hour comedy about a mad scientist type (Rick Sanchez, genius, a barely-functional alcoholic) and his grandson (Morty, 14, slightly more level-headed, masturbates) going on dimension-hopping adventures. It’s a smart, high concept show that is incredibly clever; it looks at the family dynamic in a refreshing way and doesn’t shy away from the family’s flaws. The series is responsible for a lot of quotes that have entered everyday conversation and you’ll find that you quickly pick up a lot of favorites.

Rick And Morty has become the kind of success that creatives can only hope for when they’re putting a show together. The first season aired in December 2013 and the third is currently airing. But then you already knew that, it’s hard to get away from whatever’s going on in that week’s episode. For better or worse, it’s everywhere. It’s on shirts. There are action figures, video games, and all sorts of weird and wonderful stuff. But most pertinently to our feature, there’s a series of comics published by Oni Press.

read more: Rick and Morty Characters We Want To See Again

For a show whose new episodes are so eagerly anticipated, the fact that Oni has been bringing us new adventures since 2015 is oddly little-known. But of course, given how many millions of viewers the show has and that a much smaller percentage of that would have bought the books, there’s going to be a large disparity there. So I thought I would do a public service and tell you why you should be reading the Rick And Morty comics.

Overall, the range is one of the better pieces of tie-in fiction that you will ever read. In terms of how much it gets right, it’s a shining example to the rest of the comic world.

For one thing, the artwork is consistently good and the range of artists allows for differences in the art style. Maybe it’s because the characters were animated to begin with, but most of the time the artwork is pretty spot on (although there was one howler where Jerry’s anguished face looked more like his orgasm face).

read more: What Rick and Morty's 70 Episode Order Means For The Future of The Show

But maybe you haven’t come to this incredibly visual medium for the art style. That’s fine, they’ve got you covered. The writing is top-notch and is full of the same kind of one-liners and superb storylines that you’d find in the show. In each issue, you’ll find a good few laughs to keep you going. For those of you afraid that the strip would just be a rehash of old plotlines and beloved character comebacks, well, there is a tiny bit of that but not much and it’s usually fun. The Ball Fondlers special issue was worth every penny. Tiny Rick did make a return in a recent issue, but it was part of an inventive issue with lots of laughs. But the series is full of new situations and characters such as Peacock Jones, a pimp version of the Doctor who encourages his female companions to dress in sexy outfits.

Where the comic format really shines is the ability to write for the trade, as opposed to the TV show which tends to have a looser overall story. Here the story arcs are tightly plotted and fit into a single trade paperback with room to spare.

The extra room in each book (five at present) is given over to the bonus short stories featured in each issue. These can range from what Beth does when she gets her hands on a portal gun to a day in the boring life of Jerry Smith. This is reflected in my recommendations further down the page, but the bonus shorts that feature in each issue are, in a lot of cases, well worth reading in their own right.

read more: Revisiting Rick and Morty Episode 1

Frankly, the main thing that makes it a must-have is that it’s a consistently solid fix of the adventures we know and love. Rick and Morty has a nasty habit of disappearing off our screens for far too long, and this series provides a monthly allowance of the good stuff (having said that, they still haven’t done an adaptation of Jan Quadrant Vincent 16. Get it sorted, guys). I’ve blabbered on for far too long. Go to your nearest bookshop and acquire the collections. I can’t imagine anyone coming to the TV series via the comics - though if you did, then I almost envy you - but those who are already fans of the show will find a lot to love in this series.

7 great issues to start with:

Issue #27. The draw here isn’t so much the main story (though it’s also great), but the absolute gem of a bonus which follows it, Look Cthulhu Talking Now, in which Cthulhu is not only real but knows Rick Sanchez and joins him in treating Jerry Smith like an idiot. Cthulhu’s line “That crib was not dope enough for my needs” is worth the price of admission.

Issue #1. The first issue of the series is fantastic throughout. This is the lead-in to a three-part story in which Morty and Rick get arrested and have to escape from a prison that Rick built. The very first page looks like a transcript from the show, with a typical Rick and Jerry face-off (which Jerry loses, of course). The standout character has to be Professor Tock, a guy with a time gimmick who delights in making watch puns.

Issue #29. At time of writing, the latest issue. In this one-shot, Morty becomes obsessed with putting a stop to Fascism and Hitlers wherever he finds them. His fanatical devotion to this cause causes him to act almost in a fascistic way, you might say.

Issue #25. Tiny Rick returns! I loved this one. Rick activates a device which shows in numbers how cool a person is. Rick is, naturally, the highest that a person can be (his score is in the thousands while Morty doesn’t even have a solid number to his name). The art style is also really unusual, thanks to the more stylised art of Kyle Starks (who also wrote the story).

Issue #17. In this fun little story, the duo explore the fun in taking infectious diseases to other planets that aren’t ready for them. But the B-plot, in which Rick gives intelligence to Summer’s phone and other electronics, is more enjoyable. The phone very quickly makes it creepy.

Issue #11: Both plots are great in this issue. In the first, Morty is put into a high-school simulator in an effort to give him his essential life experience in one day. Summer and Jerry end up switching bodies.

Issue #2: In the bonus story, Summer is interviewing for a job in a fast food restaurant and recalls her previous experience of ‘food management’. Glorious stuff.

Editor's note: This article comes from Den of Geek UK and originally ran in September 2017. It's been repromoted in advance of Rick and Morty Season 4.

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Feature

Scott Varnham

Nov 8, 2019

Rick and Morty

Comedy

Animation

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#aion-rsa #Books

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danjanus-blog · 7 years

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Keehn Blog Posts #1,2 &3

5/20/2017 - Beethovenhaus and Concert

I was expecting the Beethovenhaus to contain a couple of exhibits that contained basic information on who Beethoven was, and some information about his musical career. I was greatly surprised when I found out that this museum actually had a large number of interesting antiques/ paintings that were related in some way to Beethoven. I also enjoyed listening to the some of Beethoven’s compositions on a piano that was historically accurate to something that Beethoven would have played on. This stop far exceeded my expectations.

The concert itself was very interesting because of the instrument used, as well as listening to a piece written by Beethoven that we didn’t study in class. I found this new song to be entertaining, but not as catchy or like able as the Moonlight sonata. Listening to the new song also made the music more interesting to listen to, since you didn’t know what was going to happen next, but also makes you appreciate the music less since you are not going to hear everything going on in the piece the first time you listen to it.

I believe that there was no significant difference in the quality of music while hearing it live or off a recorded version, as the notes are still played in the same order and at the same time. I do think that experiencing the song being played in person is more enjoyable as an audience member, as you get to watch the pianist actually play the piece (which was especially impressive in the third movement) and the listener feels more included in the performance. I also think that listening to the piece live allows the listener to hear more subtle differences of the musicians own interpretations of the piece.

The piano that was used for the performance, which was supposed to be similar to the one Beethoven would have used sounded a lot less “heavy” than a modern day piano. It was also interesting to see how the different pedals were used to change the sound of the piano (and also the number of pedals that the piano had). This piano was also a lot smaller so it could not play the same range of notes that a modern day piano could. I believe that these differences should affect how an individual plays this piece on a modern piano if they are trying to replicate he same sound that Beethoven produced when the song was first played. However, due to different musicians having different interpretations, I believe that playing the piece on a modern piano without taking these differences into account and still be able to play the song and still do the piece justice.

6/1/2017 - German National Museum and Wagner

After visiting the German National Museum, I think that the most interesting instrument to me was the box trumpet. I thought that it was interesting first of all because of the concept behind this being used as a musical instrument (we don’t have box trumpets today) and also because of the processes the museum used to see how the instrument is constructed without actually damaging it (x-rays to look at tube inside).

While our tour guide did briefly discuss aspects of the Harmonic series and how some instruments were constructed so they would be able to play different ranges of note, I think the most interesting aspect of the tour from an engineering perspective was the videos of the cross sections of the instruments. I thought that this was very cool to see what’s on the inside of the instruments and what is really going on when they are trying to produce music. I also noticed that the way some of the instruments that were constructed were expressions of the culture in the area where they were being produced. Some of the instruments had braces on them with crests of different regions in Germany. Other instruments were also decorated if they were being used for nobility, while others were simple when being used by people from lower social classes. Another good example of the progression of how instruments looked were the long line of pianos at the side of the exhibit. Walking down this line, you could see the development of the piano as well as the cultural differences that were being made. I surprisingly did find this interesting, especially when you were able to compare a large group of instruments form different time periods.

After visiting the Wagner Museum, my opinion of how we should treat his music did not change, but I was surprised at the closeness between his family and Hitler. We did mention that the two were familiar with one another in class, but now hearing that Wagner’s daughter-in-law was responsible for providing Hitler with the paper to write out Mein Kampf while he was imprisoned was shocking. The fact that Hitler and Wagner never met in person, and also that I still strongly believe music should be separated from its creator (to an extent) did not change my perception of Wagner or his music. After hearing a quote that said how Hitler became a new, more determined individual to restore glory to Germany after listening to one of Wagner’s operas, I was again amazed how influential Wagner was on Hitler, but at the same one I think it’s important to keep on mind that this was not Wagner’s intent. As stated before, the two never met, and if anything, I believed Wagner’s collection of work was meant to install nationalistic pride. He couldn’t predict how it could be interpreted, and that Hitler would eventually use it as motivation to do all the things he has done. Unfortunately, Wagner’s music will always have this connection, but I still believe that his music should be appreciated for its greatness, and that it would be unfair to have his reputation completely ruined because someone decided his music was the “most German thing possible” after he died (Wagner as a person however and his anti-Semitic personality however can be judged separately from his compositions).

Being in the same place as Hitler was very grounding. Before visiting Germany and learning all about Hitler and WWII, there seemed to be a layer between modern day and what happened during those times. I was aware of the events and the atrocities that occurred, but it didn’t really “click” that it actually happened. After visiting the Wagner museum, the rally grounds and Dacahu, there was a “heavy” feeling that just made all the things we learned about so much realer. I also felt this to an extent when visiting Wagner’s grave although it wasn’t as moving because he didn’t have so much negativity associated to him as Hitler did.

6/5/2017 - Tannhäuser

Wagner had a lot of complaints with the ways traditional operas were organized. These complaints prompted him to create his own style of opera house that would help with these problems. The biggest complaint he had was in the segregation of seats based on social class. While our experience wasn’t as extreme, there was a noticeable difference in the quality of seats throughout the opera house. Wagner wanted to have a colosseum style of seating where everyone would be able to have the same view of the performance. He also wanted to have the orchestra hidden from the audience so that they could entirely focus on the singers. Again, with this not being a Wagnerian opera house, we were able to see the orchestra. While this didn’t necessarily take away from the performance, there were times when I was looking at the orchestra play rather than watching the performers on stage. You experience seating experiences that are similar to what Wagner envisioned when you visit movie theaters or concerts. It seems that a lot of the more modern buildings have accepted Wagner’s seating arrangements, and it is just the older, more traditional buildings that still have social class based seating. A lot of the more modern day visual forms of entertainment also include music, but there is no orchestra producing his music which takes away this whole complaint that Wagner had.

While I was unable to get a great look at the full performance because of my seat location, I still got a general idea of what this opera was trying to portray. It was very noticeable that this was a modern take on the opera, that deviated from Wagner’s large scale, and detailed performances. I would not necessarily consider this interpretation of the performance better or worse that Wagner’s original, I would just consider them different. As stated before, the minimalist approach in the production we saw was obviously a conscious choice to appeal to the modern audience.

After learning a lot about Ludwig II and Wagner, I believe that the two became friends because of their unique attitudes. Wagner was a huge proponent of revolutionizing operas and making them more about just music. He wanted to include as much artistic appeal into his performance that everything that was a part of it (music, acting, backdrop, props) was supposed to help the audience appreciate the performance for its artistic value. Ludwig seemed to be a “cultural hoarder” who tried to replicate cultural buildings and practices from different countries. As a German he probably also appreciated a lot of Germanys culture, and admired the progress Wagner was trying to make with operas.

Overall I really enjoyed the opera. I think that learning about the general summary of the plot really helped watch it. I also appreciated that there were English subtitles for all the singing. I also thought that the minimalist approach to the opera was in good taste, although I would have liked to see a true Wagnerian opera that went overboard on the visual artistic appeal (props, outfits, backdrops, etc). None of the singing voices really stood out to me, but they all did fantastic jobs of singing for their roles. I also really appreciated Wolfram’s piece at the beginning of the third act (one we learned in class). Finally, I was really impressed with the orchestras performance, and I definitely noticed how their music help shape the scenes/mood throughout the performance.

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