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pink-scarf4 · 2 years

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Pink Scarf And Presents

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jtrbluv · 4 years

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we’re not really strangers | pjm

summary: We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones. Ready?

or alternatively,

your furtive infatuation with your lifelong best friend proves to be hard to suppress when there’s (1) alcohol involved and (2) a card game that forces you to reveal more about yourself than you could ever wish for. in short, no, you are not ready.

[friends to lovers!au]

pairing: jimin x reader

genre: fluff, crack, slight angst

word count: 8.7k

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, two emotionally constipated best friend, PG-15

A/N: hi, i’ve been really excited about this fic for a while, and i’m genuinely so happy that i finally finished it! the card game is in fact real and i got inspired for this fic after i had played the game with a couple of friends myself. AHEM! @koushiningg ! we both cried and i do highly recommend to play it! but anyways, i hope you enjoy this fic because i had a lot of fun writing it! sending love always... jumi out!

EDIT: @bangtans-peaceful-piegon i’d also like to thank the lovely pidge for beta reading this 4 me as well! PIDGE I FUCKIN LOB U!!!

PLAYLIST ; SEQUEL

♤ ♤ ♤

Not once in your life did you ever imagine a simple card game to become the bane of your existence.

Yet Park Jimin was able to prove you wrong.

Let’s play ‘We’re Not Really Strangers’ he said. It’ll be fun, he said.

You stare down at the card in front of you—everything else in your periphery was blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the room who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you.

Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The white card with crimson red writing made sure to leave an impact, making you feel the most ridiculed you’ve felt all night which says a lot—leaving your mind in a complete frenzy although you refused to let it be known.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on your body, especially your heart.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on. You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in.

But then you remember that you aren’t that pathetic. Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now. Up to the point where you could probably hear the crickets chirping outside his apartment, except the only sound that was filling your ears was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

Your face may be gradually morphing the same shade of crimson as the writing inscribed onto the card itself, and you may have a whole line of sweat encompassing your hairline. But it’s just a stupid little card game. You could say any stupid little answer and the stupid not-so-little boy wouldn’t care. He wouldn’t care. So you shouldn’t care.

When did you become so pathetic after all?

-one hour and a half ago-

“Why can’t we just play Mario Kart or Uno? This sounds like there’s too much thinking involved,” you whine, leaning against the side of his couch.

“One, we always play that. And two, I always lose,” he grumbles, plopping down onto the floor.

Jimin rests his back on the frame of the couch as he sits in the small gap made by the large piece of furniture and the coffee table that resided in front of it. You decide to sit on the floor as well, around an arm’s length away from your friend. He places the red box down onto the table—opening the cap and revealing the contents with a mischievous glint in his irises.

Within the box was a deck of cards, separated into three piles with two pencils on either side. Knowing Jimin, you assumed this game had an ulterior motive you were unaware of, and by the title of the game, you could already tell that you weren’t going to like it very much.

“How do you even play this?” You ask, causing him to look up in return.

He bites his lip, taking a couple seconds to ponder on your question, “I don’t know it’s my first-time playing too,” he shrugs. “I was watching Jin and Namjoon playing it a couple of weeks ago and for some reason, Jungkook started crying.”

“He is a sap,” you hum in agreement, thinking in retrospect of Jungkook crying from various situations such as Iron Man dying or that one time Jin farted on his pillow and he got pink eye for a whole week.

“The biggest,” he concurs, “Hm, there’s no instructions in here.” He mutters while shuffling through the cards.

“Why don’t you just search it up?” You suggest, sliding the box to yourself as he nods and fishes his phone out of his pocket.

While holding the box in the palm of your hand, you scan the contents—turning it around in your palm until your eyes narrow in on the words printed at the bottom.

“Oh, it says something here.”

His head perks up. “Hm? What is it?”

You clear your throat at the sight of the long explanation. “We’re Not Really Strangers is a purpose-driven card game and movement all about empowering meaningful connections. Three carefully crafted levels of questions and wildcards that allow you to deepen your existing relationships and create new ones.” You internally grimace at the words. The game hasn’t even started and you already had a bad feeling about it all. “Ready?” You say through clenched teeth, purposely keeping your head hung low.

Jimin’s lips quirk up into a cheerful grin, unaware of the piercing stare you were giving him. “Okay, I think I got it,” he declares, eyes zeroed in on his phone once more, ”There’s three levels—perception, connection, and reflection. Each level we pass, the deeper and more thought-provoking the questions get. Helping us make a deeper connection and get to know each other better yadda yadda yadda.”

You nod in understanding, sliding the box of cards back towards him—forcing the grimace that kept threatening to plaster itself onto your face into a small, smug smile.

“The first thing we have to do,” he begins, taking out two pencils and two small pieces of paper, “is write messages to each other. We won’t be able to open these until after we leave.” He explains, sliding a pencil and paper towards you.

“Wow, very cryptic,” you tut, biting down on your bottom lip before more distasteful remarks decided to leave your lips. He doesn’t catch your reaction or your comment though because he’s already got his pencil in his hand, scribbling vigorously onto the tiny piece of paper. Knowing him it could very well be nonsensical insults and doodles, or a whole essay about your friendship and what you mean to him. Most likely ludicrous and full of thought, either way, just like him.

Without much thought, you lazily jot onto the paper.

know that i love u, u fucker <3

-y/n

The sound of your pencil falling against the table causes him to look up at you, eyes knit together in confusion.

“You’re done already?”

You chuckle, “I mean, I wasn’t going to write an essay. You already know how I feel about you. But it seems like you’re writing one though.”

His eyes narrow in on you—giving you an indiscernible look before letting out a small ‘hmph’ and lowering his focus back down to his pencil and paper. You dismiss his enigmatic behavior—deciding to mindlessly scroll on your phone while waiting for him to finish his MLA formatted essay.

Two minutes pass and you hear the sound of his pencil being placed onto the table. “Done.”

“You added citations too right?”

He scoffs, “No, but i’ll gladly add some if you’d like.”

You roll your eyes for what seems like the umpteenth time in the last five minutes, “Just start the goddamn game.”

He takes the first stack of cards and shuffles them between his hands. “In all three levels, there are wild cards or basically dares we have to complete. And for each level, we get two ‘dig deeper’ cards. Pretty self-explanatory. So this is the perception level. It’s basically designed for first encounters and strangers, and we’re gonna be asking each other questions about ourselves.”

Your eyes widen at the whole confidentiality of it all. “Are we going through all of those cards?” You blurt out, staring at what seemed to be like 50 cards in his hands.

“Oh no,” he quickly refutes, “It would take hours. We’ll just do like 12 cards each.”

“Alright,” you huff, letting out a small breath of relief.

“Yay! Okay I’ll go first,” he beams, his toothy smile evident as he places the deck in between the two of you while grabbing a card from the top, “What do you think my name is?”

You snort at the conspicuousness of the question, “Jamal.”

He immediately guffaws at your response, throwing his head back in addition. “Hey, I don’t mind that.”

“Are all of the questions like this?” You say in between hushed laughter.

“Nah,” he shakes his head as you pick up another card from the deck, “now you ask me.”

“Alright, what’s the first thing you noticed about me?” You ask, slightly taken aback by the sudden earnestness of the question, causing you to become genuinely curious about what his answer was going to be.

He hums, taking a second to think it through. “I think your smile and your laugh. It’s always been really contagious since the day I met you.” He admits, almost matter-of-factly as if it was something you should’ve known by now, yet you did not.

Your heart nearly disintegrates into a puddle of goop right then and there, but you manage to conceal your reaction, “Aw, you actually like me.” You tease.

He scoffs with a playful grin on his lips. “Don’t flatter yourself. You still cackle like a damn hyena.”

Your eyebrows shoot up, “At least I don’t laugh at every single of Jin’s lame ass jokes.”

He gasps, jaw slack open due to your all too accurate truthbomb, “I did not ask to be attacked in my own residence.”

“Well, what are you gonna do about it then.”

He snorts. “Holy shit, do you remember when I banged my head on the corner of his coffee table.”

“How could I forget? I had the picture of the bump on your head as my lockscreen for like a month.” You reminisce, resisting the urge to pull up the picture from your phone.

“Yeah, and that same month I bought and rotated between the same 10 hats.”

“Hey! It genuinely didn’t look as bad as you thought.”

He whips his head towards you, giving you a piercing glare that made you want to redact your statement immediately.

He grins from ear to ear, the little shit, amused at the reaction he was able to garner from you.

“Aha!” He suddenly guffaws, shooting out of the floor and prancing towards his fridge. He then takes out three bottles of lychee-flavored soju and makes his way back towards the table.

Jimin being the borderline alcoholic he is, it doesn’t come as a surprise to you. Not even after he takes another trip back to the fridge to grab yet another three bottles of soju, mango-flavored to be exact. He has probably one of the stupidest grins etched onto his face as he held onto the bottles—meanwhile you were more concerned about the possibility of having to clean up a bunch of broken glass and wasted soju. Then again, it wouldn’t be the first time.

“And do you plan on drinking all of this by yourself?” you say, gesturing towards the bottles.

“I know my liver is strong, but I don’t buy this shit just to enjoy alone,” he retorts. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees you shake your head as you click your tongue, “Playing this while tipsy just sounds ten times better don’t you think?.”

You shrug—although you had a strong hunch for what he was insinuating, “I mean I guess.”

He starts to pour soju into his shot glass, stopping just before it hits the brim. He slides the glass to you and you take it into your hand, eyeing the sparkling fluid and thinking about the way the contents would do its little all-too-familiar dance on your tongue.

“Well, you know what they say,” he says, pouring a glass for himself, “drunk words are sober thoughts,” he finishes while dragging out the last word—downing the first shot in one quick swig. You follow his lead soon thereafter, refusing to let your mind linger on what he had just said and the viable likelihood of you spewing out the words that could just make or break your longstanding friendship and lead to a lifetime of regret.

Obviously, everything’s going fine and dandy for you.

The next 20 minutes consisted of a plethora of superficial questions that would vary from:

“What's your favorite song lyric you can think of off the top of your head?”

Your head shoots up as if the lightbulb in your head just flashed on. “Easy. Shawty’s like a melody in my head that i cant keep out got me singing like-“

He lunges over to clap a hand over your mouth before you could sing the next line. “Na na na na no Y/N. Please stop.”

Or something along the lines of:

“What character do you think I'd play in a movie?” He asks with a smug smile.

“You’d be the second male lead that everyone secretly wants to end up with the main character because you act all sweet and kind and and genuinely cares about her but instead she chooses the other guy because something about him draws her in and it was her ‘gut instinct’ or some shit like that.”

“So I would get second male lead syndrome?” He reiterates.

“Yes.”

He sets his shot glass back down with a glower, clearly taken aback. “That is the biggest insult I’ve ever gotten in my entire life.”

You also couldn’t forget about:

“Oh, this one says to create a secret handshake.”

“No.” You deadpan.

“And why not?”

“Your pinky‘s the size of a vienna sausa—“

He smacks you square in the cheek with a pillow before you could finish your sentence. You don’t even fight back because your mind was so slow to process what he had just done. The fact that you only slept for 5 hours last night didn’t help whatsoever. Your evident lack of energy causes him to jab his finger into your side, causing a loud shriek—your fight or flight response starts kicking in as you grab the back of his neck and slam his face against the fabric of the couch cushion.

Soju was never able to make the two of you full on drunk—buzzed of course, but not enough for complete incoherency. And so you both down a bottle each before finishing the first round.

“I’m surprised we didn’t get any wild cards that round,” he says while resting his head on the couch.

You purse your lips, “You spoke too soon.”

His eyes flash open as he cranes his neck in an attempt to see the card. “Wait actually?”

You can feel your insides churn as you read the words in front of you, and you were sure that it wasn’t the alcohol talking. “Write down the three most important things to you in a relationship for 30 seconds and then compare.”

Jimin reaches over to grab two pieces of paper and pencils while unlocking his phone to find the timer app, “Okay, I’ll put a timer on for 30 seconds starting… now.”

And so the internal monologue in your head begins.

Three most important things… only three? That’s not anywhere near enough to suffice. Wait, what would the first one even be… oh yeah, trust. Trust is very much important yes, yes, yes. What else? Um, communication? Yes of course, that’s essential. Okay, what would the last one be?

You sneak a glance over at Jimin. His cheek is squished against the palm of his hand, making his cheek fat (an area in which he lacked in) more prominent and the pink, plush flesh of his lips appear even bigger than they already were.

The ceiling light emitted a faint, ambient glow—the lights and shadows hitting all the slopes and curves of his face. You never understood how someone could be so effortlessly stunning. Even the mess atop his head that’s supposed to be his hair looks purposely tousled—the ebony strands sticking up in multiple directions was framing his temples and contrasted with the honey-like hues of his skin.

Unlike the glow that radiated from the lights of the worn-down apartment and the radiance of whatever was beyond the glass of the window behind him, everything about him seemed to glow much brighter.

“Hello, earth to Y/N, your 30 seconds is up.” He interrupts pointedly, waving a hand in front of your face.

Blinking rapidly, you shake your head as well as all preceding thoughts that definitely weren’t consuming your mind a few seconds ago, “Sorry w-what?”

He laughs at your disoriented state, “Did you finish writing your three things?”

No, I wrote your name as number 3. “Yeah, I did. You can go first though.”

He nods with a small smile. “Oh, okay then let’s see. First, I put trust. I don’t know, I think everyone puts that to be honest. After that, I put communication. I feel like that’s just a given y’know. Another thing I feel like most people would say.”

You utter a timid “mhm” under your breath albeit zoning out and being unaware of what he was saying. Opportunely, you managed to scribble out his name with the mere seconds that had passed and now you were tapping the lead point of the pencil against the paper, littering the page with a bunch of grey, little dots—incognizant to the fact that he had his eyes focused on you the whole time.

“I didn’t really know what to put last. Three things isn’t anywhere near enough in my opinion. But at the last second, I wrote down vulnerability,” he continues.

You look up upon hearing the last word. “Oh wow, that’s good. I didn’t even think about that.”

He chuckles unabashedly, clearly pleased with your reaction. “Right? I just figured. At first, I thought it would go in the same category as trust but then I thought about it more. Yeah, you can trust someone and someone can trust you, but to what extent does that all go to. Where does it start? And where does it even end? You need to be able to open up to the person I feel like. So I guess trust and vulnerability go hand in hand.”

Impressed with his words, you decide to chime in. “Wouldn’t communication go along with it too?”

“Hm?”

You place your pencil down. “You would open up to each other by means of communication, becoming more vulnerable, and then overall gaining more trust in the end.”

His brows raise at your sudden revelation, “Wait, you’re so right, did you just wax poetic and full cycle all that?.”

You smile, “I mean I guess,” you respond humbly, “ it does make sense though, does it not?”

He hums in agreement while downing another shot, “It applies to us, right?”

You force out a chuckle, but it comes out a lot more faux-sounding than you would’ve liked. “Haha, yeah I guess it does, doesn’t it.” Once again, starting to dive deeper into the abyss of pitiful hope and unrequitedness.

“Describe your perfect day.” He suddenly interjects.

You quirk a brow. “Didn’t I just go?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go for this one too.”

“Alright,” you say, foot tapping on the wooden floor as you look past him and out into the glass window of his living room, “well, I wouldn’t have school of course. And I think it would all depend on how I feel that day. If I was feeling particularly lazy, the day would probably consist of me binge-watching shows in bed while eating a shitton of carbs. And the other case would probably be galavanting around the city or going to an amusement park with friends.”

Jimin listens intently and smiles as you speak, causing you to avoid his stare before pigment threatened to rush to your cheeks, “Both of those scenarios sound really nice. I better be included too.”

You roll your eyes, turning away to hide the grin creeping up your cheeks, “We’ll see.”

He groans, standing up from his spot on the floor and falling onto his couch instead, “My asscheeks hurt.”

Your face contorts into a look of disgust, “And you want me to do what with that information?”

Scoffing lightly, he leans back into the cushions and tilts his head back, “It was a declaration, not a cry for help.”

“Yeah, and it’s the bony ass for me.”

His head perks up. “It’s having a flatter ass than their guy best friend for me.”

Gulping down the sad but unequivocal truth, “It’s kissing up to every teacher’s ass for me.”

His eyes narrow in pure chagrin, “It’s the crying on your teacher’s doorstep for them to round your grade for me.”

“It’s splitting your pants on orientation day for me.”

“Fuck you, people would pay to see this ass! It’s getting a concussion from falling down the main hall stairs for me.”

“For fuck’s sake, I told you that they waxed the floors that day!” You snap back.

“Okay, and who said it was a good idea to walk down three flights of stairs while trying to cram for a midterm? Yeah, exactly no one.” He says incisively, giving you an even bigger urge to push him off of the couch, yet you digress.

“This could go on for hours.” You heave out.

“Is that the sound of someone giving up I’m hearing?”

“Is that the sound of a midget I’m hearing?”

“But I’m taller than you?!” He screeches petulantly, smacking your shoulder. You burst out into a fit of laughter—toppling onto the wooden floor with pure malice.

Gasping for air, you attempt to stifle your laughter and regain your breath. “Wow, I’m on a roll today! I deserve another shot.”

He shakes his head, his anger quelling at the sight of your giddiness. “Remind me to not let you drink and play this game.”

You turn over from your side to lay on your back. “This will be the first and the last time I play this game with you.” You say almost immediately—the words involuntarily slipping from your mouth before you could stop it.

He sinks in his spot on the couch, brows knitting at your comment. “Why?”

Sobriety crashes into you like a colossal wave —your irritation dissipates almost immediately. The exaggerated tone your voice begins to register through your head—as well as the fact that you sounded a lot more disapproving than you intended.

Groaning at your hindered ability to think and process properly, you attempt to clear the air, “Sorry, I didn’t mean it like that. We just... practically know everything about each other I guess. What else is there to know?”

He hums. “You sure about that?”

What? “Wait what?”

“Nothing,” he chuckles awkwardly, “next question.”

The straightforwardness of the next question causes you to quirk a brow, “How are you, really?”

His eyes widen. “Well, that’s a deep one, isn’t it?”

You smile. “A little.”

He sighs, a small grin lacing his features, “Hm, how am I,” he affirms, adjusting himself in his spot on the couch, “I feel content with where I am right now, I guess. Things can always be better, but at the same time they could be worse too.”

Your number one defense mechanism as of late has been to constantly tease and make jokes at the poor guy—essentially using him as your own mental punching bag. He went along with it out of the assumption that it was all caused by your stress from school while you knew the true origins of your behavior.

You smile at his optimism, "Hey, that's always good to hear."

He chuckles, shifting his position on the couch so he could face you directly, "I don't know, maybe it's the new sense of freedom. Or all the amazing people I've gotten to meet and the opportunities that are offered here. Or the fact that I'm still going to the same school as my best friend after all this damn time."

"Chim, don't get sappy on me man." You warn him while pouting exaggeratedly— slumping onto the frame of the couch while he takes a strand of your hair in between his fingers. You bask in the moment, your eyes shutting close.

"Hey, I'm just being honest! For some reason, it all makes up for the impending student debt and draining lectures and professors that have a superiority complex as fat as their paycheck."

"Too bad their paycheck still isn't as fat as your ass."

An audible gasp coming from the only other person in the room causes your eyes to flutter open.

"Aw," he coos, ruffling the hair atop of your head, "that’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me all night. Admit it, you love me."

Out of instinct, you opt to stick your tongue at him instead of replying with a witty comeback. You turn away from him before mumbling to yourself, "More than you'll ever know buddy."

"What was that?"

Shit. "Nothing. Next question!"

After twenty questions and a whopping 10 empty soju bottles later, you are quite literally about to implode.

Your eyes stare down at the card in front of you—everything that surrounds it is blurry in vision and you can audibly pinpoint the erratic beating of your heart.

The card was practically taunting you, laughing in your face. It was as if there was a sentient being in the universe who was aware of your own subconscious and the not so latent feelings you had for the boy sitting in front of you. Same said being loved to constantly place you in a state of trepidation concerning your current situation—your blood pressure skyrocketing—nearly feeling the muscular pink thing inside of you thrusting itself against your ribcage.

The imminent headache was starting to spread towards your temples and you practically felt like you could feel your brain shifting inside your head at this point. Although you felt groggy, you were certain that your heart was at a rate that is way faster than it should be. And sitting on your legs has caused them to lose all feeling from the tips of your toes all the way up to your kneecaps. One attempt at standing and you would come crashing to the floor in a heartbeat.

To say you were mad was an understatement. Out of all the times throughout the entirety of this hour and a half that you were playing this game, he decided that now would be the best time to use his 'dig deeper' card.

There it was.

Admit something.

"Okay fine, I was the one who stuck pink hair dye in your shampoo last semester."

"Y/N, did you really think I didn't know? C’mon I know there’s something else in there.”

You scowl, brows furrowing, “Why would I keep something from you?”

“Why are you getting so defensive over this?”

"What the hell is there for me to admit to you?" You snap back in exasperation, the harsh tone of your voice rendering the two of you speechless.

He averts his gaze, closing his eyes while inhaling a deep sigh. "Ever since we started college, why have you been treating me so differently?"

Your eyes widen in disbelief, stumped. Yet you refuse to wither out of this.

"I– are you mad?"

"No. Of course not," he quickly digresses, softening his gaze, "I just noticed after all this time that you've only been acting differently towards me. Did I do something wrong?"

"No, you didn't do anything wrong Jimin. You never have."

His eyes narrow, giving you yet another indecipherable look, "I'm using my 'dig deeper' card." He deadpans.

And so you sat there. Fiddling the card in between your fingers, feigning nonchalance. You were very much on the brink of cracking your facade—your sanity practically crumbling as the minutes ticked by. You didn’t think you’d last this long, to be honest. Yet an hour and a half proved to be way too straining on you in a variety of different ways.

He simply sat there with his hands folded on the table—void of emotion, whistling a familiar top 50s tune you couldn’t quite put your finger on.

You considered shifting your focuses on trying to comprehend the tune—hoping it would ease the concerning state of apprehension you were in. But then you assured yourself that you haven't reached that level of patheticism yet.

Even though you both had probably been sitting in complete silence for about two minutes now —practically anyone else could detect was the crickets chirping outside his apartment, yet the only sound that was filling your eardrums was your own conscience telling you how idiotic you were being.

This was it. There was no point in trying to weasel yourself out of this situation. If you tried, your more than futile attempt could very well end up causing more problems than if you were to go with the latter.

So instead of constantly wracking your brain with witty banter and deceitful ways to gaslight your feelings for the man sitting in front of you, you come to terms with the fact that your time had run out. You internally commend yourself for putting up a good fight, as well as internally become accosted at how immature you were at handling the whole situation.

You sharply inhale through your nose, peering at the man sitting in front of you as his eyes meet your own, "Alright."

He offers you a small yet empathetic smile in return, giving you the tiniest sliver of reassurance. His hand pats the couch cushion next to him, motioning for you to sit down next to him.

You push yourself up from the floor, immediately propping a leg onto the couch to avoid your numb limbs to be the cause of your embarrassment.

You inhale slowly through your nose and out through your mouth. "This is going to sound really absurd. Like more than absurd. Possibly borderline hysterical." No Y/N, why would you say that?

He interjects, placing a hand on your forearm. "I'm beginning to think you're becoming borderline hysterical," he lets out a small chuckle, "slow down Y/N. One thought at a time."

Your jaw is still slack open due to your previous rambling. "I'm sorry, I just—I don't think I've ever felt this anxious… around you at least."

He bites his lip, eyes trailing away from yours as he tries to think of a way to aid you, "Will it help if I turn around?

"Maybe." You reply timidly, smiling to yourself as his back came into view.

“It’ll be pretty funny if we don’t remember this in the morning,” you start off with, “I shouldn’t be saying that either I’m sorry. Stupid alcohol.”

He snickers at your drunken state, it was adorable. “Pretend I’m not here Y/N. Like you’re talking to a wall.” He advises, back still turned.

You nod although he can’t see you. “Okay. Well, hi Mr. Wall. I’ve been keeping a secret from my best friend for as long as I’ve known him and I don’t know what to do about it. I’ve suppressed it all this time in hopes that it would eventually fade away, and it almost did. No really, it actually almost did. But now it’s back again and all the same feelings came, but like freaking twofold. No, tenfold. No, like a hundred fucking fold.”

Jimin tries excruciatingly hard to stifle his laughter, cupping a hand to his mouth so he wouldn’t move and distract you.

“I’m literally in love with my freaking best friend when I know he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever. If he did, we wouldn’t be where we are right now because I am so shitty at hiding my feelings that I am more than certain that I’ve let the truth slip a couple of times.” You say all in one breath.

He slowly detaches his hand from his mouth, eyebrows raising in disbelief in the words you had just said. His body urges him to turn around. Yet you continue to think out loud. So he digresses.

“Towards the end of high school, I think my feelings started to become more dormant because I had become more concerned over finishing high school and transitioning into college. I was content and I convinced myself that my feelings were fleeting for once.” You begin with, allowing whatever thoughts that you consumed your mind to spill all out for Mr. Wall to hear.

You sigh, taking a pillow from his couch and squeezing onto it for dear life. “That was until we ended up getting into our top picks and going to the same school. I couldn’t believe it. My stupid head tried to convince me that life had always just paired the two of us up together for some reason. And that maybe, just maybe I had a chance. But whatever I guess. I don’t know.”

A notification causes your eyes to trail to your phone. Really, Professor La, this is not a good time to tell me to finish my research paper. You swipe at the notification, revealing your lock screen—a photo of you and Jimin at an amusement park back at your hometown, sporting matching university hoodies with bright smiles on your faces that were captured mid-laughter.

Setting your phone down, you lean into the couch—letting your head fall into the cushions as your eyelids slowly start to droop shut. “What also didn’t help is how college life just seems to suit him perfectly. He just always looks so happy now. Like yeah, he’s always been a social butterfly. Yet in addition to that he has top notch grades. He charms professors. For fuck’s sake the Dean treats him like a son. His passion, his laughter, his love, his happiness. It’s always been so infectious. But college just made the effect he has on people grow even stronger. I-,” you stammer, pausing breathlessly, “it just looks like he truly belongs here. Like college was just made for him.”

He sits there in a complete stupor—still trying to process all the words that he had just heard. His body is itching to turn around, take you into his arms, whisper soft nothings into your ear. Anythings. Everything. He never wanted you to feel anxious about his feelings for you ever again.

“Mr. Wall, that was a lot, I’m sorry. But I’m really… really tired.” You utter quietly, a long yawn escaping your lips. You fall asleep.

Ten seconds pass until Jimin sneaks a glance over his shoulder, scanning your body as he notices your shut eyes and timid grip on his pillow.

“Y/N?”

You’re unresponsive.

He grins at the sight. Getting up from his seat, he makes his way toward you—slowly prying the pillow from your grasp as you carefully slides his hands under your body and picks you up from the couch.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around his neck and bury your face into his shoulder as he carries you to his bedroom. You are very much still asleep, yet you always had the habit of needing something to hold onto while you were unconscious.

Kicking the sheets aside, he makes room for you to lie down as he gently places you onto his bed. He quickly scurries to the other side, slipping into the covers himself as he lays down beside you.

The sudden contact causes you to shift in your sleep—suddenly wrapping an arm around his torso. He lays there, completely stunned at your actions and begins to heavily debate whether he should give into his desires or not.

The internal conflict lasts about two seconds before he turns to his side—placing his free hand on the small of your back and pulling you into his chest, leaving a small pocket of space in between your two bodies.

Unknowingly, you close the gap almost immediately—nestling your head into the crook of his neck as your arm that was lazily slung over his torso starts to tighten its hold around his body.

His arm slings over your unconscious form, his hands making his way to your back as he basks in the foreign feeling, being this close in proximity to you. It was different. Yet it almost felt like it was where he belonged. And he was scared because he didn’t want it to end.

While gently placing his chin on the top of your head, he begins to stroke your hair as fatigue starts to wash over him as well. “Things will make sense soon Y/N, I swear.”

He retracts, craning his neck in an attempt to see your sleeping form. His attempt proves to be futile when an indecipherable groan leaves your lips—brows knitting slightly and lips curling downward from the sudden lack of warmth.

His soft laughter fills the room as he obliges—carefully pressing a small kiss to your forehead before reverting back to his original position.

“For now, just know that I love you too.”

The intolerable throbbing sensation in your temples caused you to stir in your sleep.

The only events you could recall from last night was being at Jimin’s apartment, playing that stupid card game, and downing the most soju you’ve ever had in one sitting.

It only occurs to you that you’re wrapped in someone’s arms when you open your eyes and the only thing in your periphery is a firm chest, steadily heaving each time they take a breath.

Your legs were messily entangled with theirs—arms slung around each other’s torsos as you felt a strange yet dense weight on the top of your head.

Carefully, you try to pry yourself from their grasp albeit your haphazard state of mind. You pull back ever so slightly, making sure not to wake them up in the process, discovering that the excess weight was actually their chin that had been resting on top of your head. Their fingers were still twined in your hair as you pulled back, making you freeze in your spot. Curious, you tilt your head, peering upwards and catching a glimpse of their face.

The boy is undoubtedly still asleep. Eyes shut and ample lips slightly parted. Your timid movement, to your luck, which hadn’t phased him in the slightest, as he was unperceptive and nearly immobile at this point.

If it weren't for your abhorrent headache and the even more abhorrent symptoms that had rooted from your hangover, it would be an understatement to say that you would be freaking out right about now. In reality,

You'd be in a complete state of manic.

Because of the fact that your body was paying for the despicable amount of alcohol you had decided to consume the night before, an influx of any intense emotion would cause your body to exacerbate itself even more. And the last thing you needed was to puke all over the poor guy after sleeping together for the first time.

While you were physically experiencing withdrawals, your mind felt slightly inebriated nonetheless. You weren't quite sure if it was from last night's affluence of liquor or the way everything's starting to come back to you. And the longer your eyes linger on the boy's face, the clearer everything starts to become. From the foolish banter to your childish outbursts leading up to your intoxicated yet conscientious confession.

You left your heart all out for him to witness last night, and now the only thing you could do is wait for a response.

Taking a deep sigh, you retreat back to his body—deciding not to ponder any longer on the matter and wait until you had felt physically capable of doing so.

Steaming hot streams of water splash against his back. He stands under the shower head while massaging soap into his hair, replaying the events that had happened last night on loop.

The words that left your mouth were engraved into his mind as they involuntarily kept replaying over and over again—particularly your inebriated confession, which kept garnering the same reaction of both hope and frustration within him.

The solution should be simple. In reality it is, yet he still felt so internally scattered.

“—he doesn’t see me in that light nor will he ever...”

That was the singular line that he just couldn’t wrap his head around. There was never a moment where he would hesitate to drop everything he was doing to be there for you and make sure you were okay.

Yes, he knew that you two were best friends and that it was natural. But what best friend drives across town at 2am because you had the stomach flu and your parents were out of town. Keep in mind it was his mom’s birthday that day.

What best friend ditches their prom date when yours had stood you up. Or coax the drama teacher into giving you the lead in the school play because he saw the ways your eyes glimmered when you saw the words ‘High School Musical’. And damn, weren’t you justthe greatest Gabriella he’s ever seen.

Little did you know that in reality, he always wanted you to be the Gabriella to his Troy, and not Chad. Yet you seemed to have believed the latter all along.

But in the end, what the hell kind of best friend remains oblivious to the fact that for years, past exes have consistently broken up with him for the same reason.

“Your heart belongs to someone else.”

Or alternatively,

“I’m not the right person for you.”

Straight A’s don’t mean shit when no teacher has ever taught him how to realize that he was irrevocably in love with his best friend, and that she had always, almost candidly, felt the same way.

He shuts his eyes tightly, hands aggressively running through his soaked hair as he comes to a conclusion.

Being strangers could never be an option. Being friends, or moreso, best friends was fine. But that’s it. It was just fine. It was normalcy. It has been for years.

And that just wasn’t going to cut it for him anymore.

Your arm traces along the fabric of the bedsheets, alerting you that there was a void of space and lack of warmth from the other side of the bed. Your eyes spring open to see that there was no one laying beside you.

A long yawn escapes your lips as you stretch your limbs, body sprawling all over the bed before selfishly tugging the sheets all to yourself.

Soft hissing from which you assume was coming from his shower was confirmed to be true when your eyes spot the closed bathroom door and the small beam of light that was emitting from it.

A small, folded piece of paper that was taking up the space of where his head was resting was where your eyes shift to next.

y/n <3

You knit your brows together, knowing that it was most likely put there strategically rather than a piece of trash that had slipped out of his pocket.

It was addressed to you after all and so you grab it while making a futile attempt to rub the sleep out of your eyes. Your throbbing headache and churning insides had significantly died down. Regardless of your recovery time you internally make a promise to yourself to never get this wasted ever again. The chances of you sticking to it? Highly debatable considering the current situation you’re in.

Blinking rapidly, you finally are able to decipher whatever is written onto the paper. And it says:

hi y/n, i can already tell by the looks that you’re giving me that you already despise this game and im sorry. all i wanna say is that by the time you read this, i hope that we remain close as ever even though what i plan on saying tonight could obliterate all of that. i wanted to play this game bc i know we’re both hiding stuff from each other and it’s about time we get it out. at least for me. whatever happens, i love you. always will.

- chim :)

EDIT: for fuck’s sake y/n i’m FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU TOO I WAS SUPPOSED TO CONFESS TO U FIRST LOSER NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND T-T

“Finally awake?” You hear a familiar voice call out. He walks out of the bathroom, fully clothed (to your dismay) while drying his hair with a towel, eyes immediately softening as they connect with yours.

You swallow down your nerves, “Yeah, I’ve been.”

He walks over to the edge of the bed, eyes shifting to the piece of paper in your hand before reverting his focus back to your face, “What are you reading there?”

“I don’t know,” you huff, feigning ignorance, “why don’t you tell me.”

A soft chortle leaves his lips as he throws the towel to the side, smiling as wide as ever as he jumps onto the vacant spot on his bed right next to you.

Propping himself up, he sits against the headboard, letting out a content sigh before looking down at you once more. “Come here.” He says, reaching his arms out in hopes that you’d fill the idle gap.

And you do, shaking the sheets off of your body as you place yourself in his arms, freshly revelling in the comfort. You wrap your arms snugly around his waist, letting your head rest on his chest while he clutches onto you tightly.

“I’m sorry for pushing the subject so hard onto you last night.” He starts off with, “I guess I just never fathomed the fact that you could return the feeling, and I was too stubborn to even admit it to you in the first place.” He expresses while stroking your back, “I didn’t mean to confront you so harshly, it’s unlike me, and I’m really sorry about it Y/N.”

“Do you think I’m mad about that Jimin?” You inquire, just barely above a whisper.

He pulls back slightly, peering down at you, “Are you?”

“Of course not. I should be the one apologizing anyways for being even more stubborn and resorting to such childish ways.” You disclose whilst mentally beating yourself up.

“Hey, there’s no use in beating ourselves up over it. Look where we are now.”

“Where exactly are we Jimin?” You inquire timidly, head still resting on his chest.

His fingers brush over the base of your chin, gently tilting your head up until your eyes found his.

“Y/N, it’s honestly hard for me to formulate the words but all I know is that I think I’m in love with you. And I think I have been for a long time, no scratch that, I have been for a long time,” he says all in one breath, making you smile at how high-strung he was acting.

The grin remains plastered onto your face, “I’m not drunk still right because did I just hear you say that you’ve been in love with me?”

“Y/N…” he whines, jutting out his bottom lip as he drags out the last syllable of your name.

You can’t help but laugh. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry! Go on please.”

He bites his lip, “I honestly had a whole speech prepared in the shower but I forgot all of it.”

“It’s alright, I barely remember half the stuff I spewed out last night,” you chortle.

He chuckles, “Well, if you were wondering, you’re cute as fuck when you’re piss drunk.”

The compliment makes your breath hitch in your throat—your heart starting to pick up speed dangerously quick.

A few seconds pass, allowing you to slightly gain back some of your composure, “Why did you um– I mean– when do you think you fell in love with me?” You stutter.

“I was actually trying to figure that out too,” he starts, “in the shower. Well, this is going to sound dumb,” he admits, sharply exhaling out of his nose, “But do you remember when we went on a field trip to that amusement park in 8th grade? Around halloween time.”

“I think so… but what about it?”

He nods. “I still remember that night so vividly for some reason,” he pauses, collecting his thoughts, “There were haunted houses all over the park. And they were all different themes. And I think the first one we went into together was—”

“The clown one.” You deadpan.

“Yeah!” He beams, laughing at the way you shudder after your words, “Anyways, you were walking behind me with your hands on my shoulders, but you had a razor grip and I thought my arms were going to fall off, so I made you walk next to me instead. We had our arms interlocked and you were gripping onto me so closely and you had your head buried in my shoulder the whole time.” He explains, the smile never ceasing to leave his lips.

You don’t take his eyes off of him—smiling sweetly as he explains the retrospective moment that you never knew had held so much significance to him.

“All of a sudden, you grabbed my hand, and honestly, I think that was the scariest part of the whole experience,” he admits, chuckling softly.

“But then I intertwined fingers with you. And I liked it. Thinking about it now, I probably loved it. It felt almost borderline euphoric. Like as if I was riding a high, and when we detached hands, it felt like there was just something missing. And I guess I never really put the pieces together because it just became a normal thing after that. And when our skinship kept evolving from there, I just kept dismissing it over and over again. Like as if that feeling was a normal thing to happen between friends, because I genuinely thought it was. Yeah, I think that’s the moment I pretty much fell in love with you.” He finishes, giving you a close-mouthed smile while he tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

Astounded was an understatement. You couldn’t believe that you both had been suppressing these feelings for so long. Yet somehow, this whole confession didn’t seem out of place or time, it was as if everything that had happened beforehand had led up to this very moment.

“Wow, Jimin I– I don’t know what to say.” You reply.

He shakes his head. “You don’t have to say anything Y/N. I’m sorry for making you wait for so long, after all.”

You interject, “Please don’t say sorry, I think we were definitely both in the wrong here.”

He smiles, except this time his eyes crinkle up all the way, “Alright, but can you at least let me make it up to you?”

“I’m listening.” You jokingly reply.

“Let’s go on a date,” he declares brazenly, “but tonight, after we’ve recovered from our hangovers and what not.”

The corners of your lips upturn so high that your cheekbones sting, “Jimin, I’d love to–”

“Ah, wait! I’m not done.” He cuts you off, head inching forward, leaning in so close that you could feel his breath tickle your ear and the heat rushing up to your cheeks.

“And at the very end of the night, I’ll make certain that you won’t be able to walk normally by tomorrow.” He whispers into your ear— voice low and full of lust.

Shivers run through your body as it feels like all the wind had just gotten knocked out of you. Yeah, this was definitely worth the wait.

MASTERLIST ; SEQUEL

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bemusedlybespectacled · 3 years

Text

I posted 2,082 times in 2021

80 posts created (4%)

2002 posts reblogged (96%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 25.0 posts.

I added 1,723 tags in 2021

#love me that's all i ask of queue - 1470 posts

#personal - 77 posts

#leverage - 38 posts

#someone get that man a dom - 25 posts

#history - 22 posts

#anonymous - 20 posts

#cackling - 19 posts

#leverage: redemption - 18 posts

#bb is a lawyer - 17 posts

#star trek tos - 17 posts

Longest Tag: 136 characters

#i had four teeth removed solely for aesthetic reasons when i was like twelve and no one was handwringing over my irreversible mutilation

My Top Posts in 2021

on the flip side of “characters are not real people and so shouldn’t be held to the same standards we hold for actual humans,” real people aren’t characters whose traits are chosen by an omnipotent author. real people are people who are a unique constellation of traits, each of which is shared with millions of people.

the usual problem with a fictional character falling into a stereotype is that it’s their only characterization. the important thing about the damsel love interest is that she’s in danger and she’s in love with the protagonist, so we don’t need to know about her passion for stamp collecting if it isn’t plot-relevant; there’s no scene where we watch the evil terrorist check out the devil wears prada from his local library immediately before trying to murder the hero with ten other terrorists. and, typically, they are the only character of their kind: the only gay guy is the villainess’s sycophantic sidekick; the only black woman exists only for the heroine to have a best friend.

but humans, by dint of being human, are always three-dimensional, multi-faceted beings, and are always one out of millions of other people. having the only female character in your cast have no personality other than “liking pink” is trite and overdone; an actual human woman who likes pink is always going to be more complex than that.

if your complaints about someone’s actions, experiences, or inherent traits read like an editor complaining about overdone tropes or stereotypes, you aren’t actually making a valid critique, you are demonstrating a fundamental inability to discern truth from fiction.

1973 notes • Posted 2021-11-15 04:57:05 GMT

~hot take~ about a book that came out ten years ago but one of the biggest reasons 50 Shades of Grey fails as a fanfiction - not as a piece of writing, but as fanfiction specifically - is because it fundamentally misunderstands the central conflict throughout the Twilight novels and as a result makes Anastasia and Christian’s relationship even more incomprehensible and unhealthy than Bella and Edward’s. that conflict NOT being the Volturi or anything to do with other vampires, but the fact that Bella wants to be a vampire and Edward doesn’t want her to be a vampire.

like, Bella doesn’t want to grow old, she’s been parentified by her parents, and she feels boring and ordinary, so eternal youth + superpowers seems pretty fucking cool to her. meanwhile Edward hates being a vampire and sees it as a burden, especially since part of being a vampire is the constant threat of accidentally injuring or killing his girlfriend. the tension is the push and pull between what Bella wants and what Edward wants, and it’s only resolved when she does actually become a vampire.

so if we assume that BDSM is the vampirism metaphor in the 50 Shades fics (namely, something dangerous but also sexy and alluring), then Anastasia should be completely gung-ho about the kinky shit and Christian should be wracked with guilt every time he even considers spanking someone. finding out Christian is kinky should make Ana realize that whatever feelings she’s had before has a NAME and OTHER PEOPLE and is NORMAL and that her secret kinky fantasies are validated, while Christian should be crying into his pillow at the idea that he’s corrupted poor innocent Ana with his perverted ways.

what I’m saying here is that it not only makes the storyline way creepier, because BDSM - and a relationship with Christian, since the story explicitly says you can’t have one without the other - is something that Ana is afraid of instead of excited about, but also makes it WAY more boring. oh ho hum, “a sexy millionaire overcame my protests and had his sexy sexy way with me!” said every fucking Harlequin novel ever. groundbreaking.

tl;dr: the plot of 50 Shades should be “Ana discovers Fetlife on bing.com and they go back and forth on their kinky needs v. Christian’s guilt at potentially hurting his love until they split the difference and have Ana top”

2895 notes • Posted 2021-11-03 21:42:21 GMT

one of these days I’m gonna get an expensive mic and Final Cut Pro and I’m going to do an extended Youtube series called “You Don’t Know How To Write Fanfiction” and it’s going to just be me tearing apart big-name writers and directors for having shit characterization and no idea how to write creative plots for existing franchises because they’ve never had to write a crossover or AU in their lives

3338 notes • Posted 2021-01-15 02:52:18 GMT

the thing that bugs me the most about the censoring of the internet to please advertisers is like... tv shows aren’t having less sex and violence in them. movies aren’t having less sex and violence in them. HBO can do eight seasons of graphic murder and nudity and it’s the cultural phenomenon of the decade, but I can’t show a nipple on tumblr or talk about death on tiktok. it’s not that the internet is becoming “safer,” it’s just making these topics a privilege only for very rich people, and putting it behind a paywall for everyone else.

16355 notes • Posted 2021-11-28 15:57:39 GMT

disney looked at the success of maleficent and thought audiences really wanted shot-for-shot live-action retellings of existing disney movies and/or villains with tragic backstories, when the success of maleficent really was down to two things:

a well-crafted version of sleeping beauty that was still recognizable as sleeping beauty, but with enough deviations that it felt like a new story, complete with worldbuilding/lore and a very sweet and realistic mother/daughter relationship between maleficent and aurora, and

sexy bird man

20851 notes • Posted 2021-05-28 04:50:15 GMT

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#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #utterly shocking that my maleficent hot take has more notes than my internet censorship one but then again it has several months headstart #personal

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birdsareblooming · 4 years

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Amy Rose the Hedgehog/Echidna

Alright you motherfuckers, Amy Rose is a Hedgehog/Echidna Hybrid and i’m going to prove it to you.

1. The history of Amy Rose

1a. Classic Amy

Amy Rose made her video game debut in 1993's Sonic the Hedgehog CD, as a non-playable character. In this game she is an 8 year old hedgehog girl kidnapped by the new antagonist, Metal Sonic. In the Japanese release, she was primarily known by her nickname Rosy the Rascal, although it is still stated that her real name is Amy Rose. She later appeared as a playable character in several ensemble spin-off games such as Sonic Drift, Sonic Drift 2, Sonic the Fighters and Sonic R. She did not appear in any of the early TV series, although she was included in most comics, including the Archie Comics series, the British Sonic the Comic and the French Sonic Adventures. (Via Sonic Wiki)

TLDR; Amy first showed up in comics, although she was created for the video games. As shown above her first video game appearance was Sonic CD.

Amy Rose was created in response to a request from the character division of Sega's licensing business, who wanted a character that could be the "Minnie" to Sonic's "Mickey" However, it was felt that it would go against Sonic's personality for him to locked into a standard cartoon relationship like Mickey and Minnie. Instead, it was decided that a one-way relationship, where Amy's affection for Sonic is unrequited, would be more interesting ((via Sonic Wiki))

TLDR; Amy was created in response to a request to give Sonic a love interest, but feeling that would “Go against his character”, they made it a one-sided relationship.

Why am I letting you know this? Well to be acquainted and understand the significance of MODERN Amy, you need to know CLASSIC Amy.

Classic Amy had a very different design, although she was still pink, she wore different clothes, has different quills (very important) and is 8. She only showed up in Sonic CD and the comics, pretty much being reduced to a minor character. Even to this day, Classic Amy has no appearance in Sonic Mania (2017), despite having Mighty and Ray, only making an appearance in a holiday episode of Sonic Mania Adventures (2018)

1b. Modern Amy

When Sonic Team reunited and started work on their three-dimensional follow-up to the classic Sonic games, Sonic Adventure, it was decided they would revive the pink hedgehog and give her a starring role in the game. Like the rest of the returning cast, Amy was given an updated design by Yuji Uekawa. While Sonic, Tails and Knuckles all received minor design changes, Amy's clothing and hairstyle were completely revamped. She also had her entire figure redesigned to make her appear older. In addition to her redesign, her official age was changed from 8 to 12. (via: Sonic Wiki)

TLDR; Amy was brought in as a main character in Sonic Adventure, getting a complete revamp in character design, unlike the other characters who only had minor changes.

Remember this. It will come back later.

Now we’re to the Amy we know and love! Short cute hair, colors that actually match and don’t look horrific (why is classic wearing green and orange. Whos idea was that) And older, but maybe not too much more mature, Amy Rose.

Another note, her design might have been revamped, but her personality wasn’t.

2. Why that Matters

I know what you’re thinking, “why is that incredibly handsome he”-no sorry, “why are we going though the history of Amy? Why does it matter just tell us why you think she’s part echidna?”

I’m getting there, don’t worry.

I wanted everyone to be extremely clear on her history, on the changes between CLASSIC and MODERN, which is very important to this theory. Not everyone us super aware of her history.

3. Her (modern) Design

-it was decided they would revive the pink hedgehog and give her a starring role in the game. Like the rest of the returning cast, Amy was given an updated design by Yuji Uekawa. While Sonic, Tails and Knuckles all received minor design changes, Amy's clothing and hairstyle were completely revamped. (Via Sonic Wiki)

Now, Finally, let’s get to her design, and the weirdness of it.

3a. Her quills

Amy is a pink-furred anthropomorphic hedgehog with green eyes and peach skin on her muzzle and arms. Unlike other hedgehogs, her spines are not spiky in appearance - but are rather worn down like that of ordinary hair, somewhat resembling a bob cut. (Via: Sonic Wiki)

I’m going to assume you knew I was getting to this

“Unlike other hedgehogs”, is a totally fair statement. Every other hedgehog we’ve seen (Even non-canon ones with terrible designs ((looking at you sonia))) Have had their quills in a very specific manner.

Out, Long, and Back.

Very much in contrast with Amy’s, Down and Short.

Also note that Shadow and Sonic, on their heads, have six quills, silver having two long ones and 5 bang quills. Basically, their quills are layered, Amy’s however, is not. It’s one right next to each other.

I note the layered quills as very important. Makes sense for mobian hedgehogs right? I mean they have layered quills like that in real life, even if there’s a lot more.

This is very important why? Because there’s another species that has their quills/spines/hair/etc. right next to each other, instead of layered.

Interesting how close it is to Amy’s own hairstyle isn’t it?

it’s even drawn similarly.

In conclusion, her quills are VERY strange for hedgehogs, but very average for echidna’s, weird for a hedgehog huh.

3b. Her Back

“What?” You say, confused.

But listen.

There’s one specific thing that other hedgehogs have, that Amy Rose is lacking.

Back Quills

None on her back. Absolutely zero.

Again, strange and weird for a hedgehog, not at all strange or weird for an echidna.

3c. Other stuff

-The top of her red dress looking like a crescent moon, alot like Knuckles’s own on his body. I just noticed this looking at the two ref sheets above. -Might be crazy, but I feel like with the 3D models Amy’s tail is longer than the other hedgehog’s. Might just be me though -Most (normal) hedgehogs we’ve seen like Sonic and Silver have very cool colors like Blue and White, and Echidnas are very centered around reds and oranges. And I mean, Pink is a light shade of red.

4. Hybrids

This will be a quick one, hybrid’s HAVE existed in the sonic universe

Although an obscure character now, Fang the Sniper has always been a hybrid.

Touma would state on Twitter that he designed Fang with a jerboa (トビネズミ?) motif in his mind.[6] However, the sales departments of Sega decided upon him being half jerboa and half wolf in Japan, and a weasel in North America.[7][8] (Via: Sonic Wiki)

And, you could be wondering why i’m saying she’s a hybrid and not just an Echidna instead of a Hedgehog. Well, She has the hedgehog ears and eye-shape.

5. The whole picture

I’ve shown you the pieces, now to put it together.

Each of these things with her new design sepretly would mean nothing, but together it means a lot.

But you HAVE to be thinking, “There’s no way that was purposeful.” and I get it. When I first thought of this theory, that was the roadblock that kept me from fully believing it, until I did some research.

I don’t belive it was the idea from the beginning. And by that, I mean CLASSIC Amy.

She looks like a hedgehog, she has back spines, she has normal, layered, quills. As well as Amy debuting before Knuckles in Sonic the Hedgehog 3 (1994)

MODERN Amy, however. Is a different story.

Remember when I told you to remember a certain paragraph?

Amy’s design was changed drastically for Sonic Adventure, even saying so in this paragraph. Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles got minor things, like eye colors and more dexterity. Eggman got an outfit change. Amy’s whole body was changed. Quills, Back, Outfit, Everything.

Once again, you’re wondering, “Why does this matter?”

Amy was completely redesigned for Sonic Adventure. A game that include, features, hell, CENTERS around Echidnas.

Every flashback is about the Knuckles clan, and how Chaos ended up like that™️ because of them.

In a game where you have a bunch of Echidnas, I, personally, feel like i’d be difficult to make the mistake of 50% of Amy Rose looking like one.

Anyway Amy Rose is an Echidna/Hedgehog hybrid and either doesn’t know or is too dumb to tell anyone thanks by

#amy rose #theory #sonic theory #sonic

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knitcrate · 3 years

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June 2021 Crate Reveals

We’re warming up the season with this month’s clubs! Check out what to expect in your June club crates.

Meet the yarns and our themes in this month’s full crate reveal on YouTube.

youtube

Knit & Crochet Club Theme

A yarn store glimmers in the distance. As you get closer, you can make out shades of green, blue, red, and gray – which one will be right for your next project? The good thing about this mirage, though, is that it doesn’t disappear as you get closer. All of the yarn is at your fingertips, ready to be knitted or crocheted into your next creation. As the desert sun slips beneath the horizon, make yourself a cozy scarf or shawl to keep away the cold as the wind blows across the sand. We know you’ll love this month’s yarn and projects that call to mind a beautiful desert mirage.

For our Knit & crochet club this month, we are featuring some of your favorite knit and crochet artists from Spain! Special thanks to Clara Mateo who helped us coordinate the designs for this month as well as shared her talented photography with us.

KnitCrate Knit & Crochet Club

This month’s yarn is the luxurious Vidalana Oasis, a mix of 50% Alpaca Wool, 25% Peruvian Highland/Merino Wool, and 25% Suri Alpaca. These three kinds of wool blend perfectly to create a yarn with beautiful drape that is oh-so-soft to the touch. Your crate comes with two matching skeins of DK weight yarn, each with 250 yds (229 m) / 100g. You won’t be able to resist including these silky-smooth fibers in your next project.

KnitCrate Knit & Crochet Club June 2021 Colorways

Members will receive 2 matching skeins in one of these 6 colorways.

Palm Springs: This soft mossy green, with yellow undertones, calls to mind a quiet desert oasis.

Casablanca: Enjoy the serene waters of a peaceful lake with this deep teal blue colorway, just like gazing upon the ocean from a patio in Casablanca.

Sahara: The breathtaking colors of the Sahara shine through in this ginger colorway.

Morocco: Bring the beauty of a Moroccan sunset into your next project with this blushy pink-red yarn.

Tucson: This deep rusty red reminds us of old brick buildings and desert sunsets.

Nevada: The sun beats down upon the cobblestones in the warm taupe-and-gray skeins of Nevada that also include streaks of teal.

Phoenix: The understated beauty of this Phoenix colorway allows us to imagine the firebird rising from its deep purple-gray ashes.

Knit & Crochet Club Patterns

Knit Pattern

Open lace defines the fabric of the Leaves and Soda shawl by Lola Logaro. Circular holes dance up and down the panels of this shawl, calling to mind the veins of a leaf. Despite the open pattern, this shawl will still keep you cozy on those cold days thanks to the warmth of the yarn. Dress up or dress down this project to go with any outfit you have in mind.

KNIT Pattern Details

Needles: US 8 (5 mm) circular needle, 23” (60 cm)

Yarn Needed: 468 yds (428 m) used / 2 skeins needed

Finished Size: 60” x 20” (150 x 50 cm)

Crochet Pattern

Clusters climb along the lacy material of the Jackson Shawl by Laura Algarra. You’ll love working on this quick-to-stitch crochet shawl. Wear it loose around your shoulders or belted at the waist, depending on the look you’re after. Add fringe at both ends for the finishing touch that lends the shawl a beautiful sense of movement.

CROCHET Pattern Details

Crochet Hooks: US E/4 (3.5 mm)

Yarn Needed: 500 yds (460 m) used / 2 skeins needed

Notions: Tapestry needle

Finished Size: 63” long x 20” wide (160 cm long x 50 cm wide), blocked; Fringe adds 10” (25 cm) of length to both sides.

Not a member yet? Join today!

Sock Knit & Crochet Club Theme

Embrace the peace of nature with our Happy Little Skeins theme. This month we celebrate creating your own little world with a laid back positive energy. The colorways shared with our skeins this month would be welcome in any painted landscape.

Sock Knit & Crochet Club

All your sock-making needs are met in Knitologie Happy Little Sock. Your toes will stay cozy with this mix of 70% Superwash Merino Wool, 20% Tencel, and 10% Nylon. Each skein of fingering-weight yarn packs a whopping 400 yds (366 m) / 100g, enough to make a complete pair of squishy socks. Get ready to have the happiest feet in the forest!

Sock Knit & Crochet Club Members will receive 1 skein in one of these 3 colorways.

Peapod: The invigorating green of Peapod brings the spring landscape directly to your next project, with a cheerful yellow undertone that is sure to brighten up your next pair of socks.

It’s Your Own Little World: Drift off into your own little world with this calming shade of soft blue. We can just imagine the happy clouds drifting across the peaceful blue sky.

Every Tree Needs a Friend: This yarn will make you think of happy little trees with its warm shade of honey brown, perfect for bringing the beautiful colors of the forest into your next project.

Sock Knit & Crochet Club Patterns

Knit Sock Pattern

Happy little pine trees twine their way across the fabric of these socks, perfect for strolling through the woods as you find a place to set up your easel. Brenda K. B. Anderson designed these Happy Little Tree Socks that perfectly highlight this month’s sock yarn. Complete with charts to help you understand the traveling stitches, these socks are the perfect project to keep you nice and toasty warm as well as fashionable at the same time.

KNIT Sock Pattern Details

Needles: US 1 (2.25 mm) set of 4 dpns

Yarn Needed: Approx yarn amounts: 210 (240, 270, 300, 330) meters, exact yarn amounts will vary depending on foot length / 1 skein needed for each size

Notions: stitch markers (3), tapestry needle

Finished Leg Circumference: 5.5 (6.5, 7.5, 8.75, 9.75)” / 14 (16.5, 19, 22, 25) cm, unstretched

Finished Foot Circumference: 6 (7, 8, 9, 10)” / 15 (18, 20.5, 23, 25.5) cm

Crochet Sock Pattern

The Sidelined Socks by Rohn Strong utilize two beautiful textures to create a sock you’ll want to wear every day, from crafting on the couch to a walk in the woods. The ankle-length silhouette features a basic extended single crochet in the foot that transitions into a vertically-worked cuff of crossed double crochet at the back of the leg and perfectly highlights the colors of this month’s yarn.

CROCHET Sock Pattern Details

Crochet Hooks: US D/3.25mm

Yarn Needed: 197 (222, 300, 328, 399, 429) yds (180 (203, 274, 300, 365, 392) m) used / 1 (1, 1, 1, 1, 2) skeins needed

Notions: Tapestry Needle, stitch marker (1)

Finished Leg Length: 4”/ 10 cm

Finished Foot Circumference: 6 (6.75, 8, 8.75, 10, 10.75)” / 15 (17, 20, 22, 25, 27) cm

#knitcrate #knit #knitter #knitting #knitters #knittersoftheworld #knittersgonnaknit #knittersofig #knitterslife #crochet #crocheting #crocheters #crocheter #crochetersgonnacrochet #crochetersofinstagram #crochetersofravelry #yarn #yarnsubscription

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dusted Mid-Year Round-Up: Part 2, Dr. Pete Larson to Young Slo-Be

James Brandon Lewis

The mid-year exchange continues with the second half of the alphabet and another round of Dusted writers reviewing other people’s favorite records. Today’s selection runs the gamut from Afro-beat to hip hop to experimental music and includes some of this year’s best jazz records. Check out part one if you missed it yesterday.

Dr. Pete Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band — Damballah (Dagoretti Records)

Damballah by Dr. Pete Larson and his Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band

Who Picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No, but Jennifer Kelly said about his previous record, “It’s authentic not to some musicological conception of what nyatiti music should sound like, but to the instincts and proclivities of the musicians involved.”

Bryon Hayes’ take:

Judging from Jenny’s review, Dr. Pete Larson hasn’t really changed his modus operandi much since last year’s self-titled release. Well, he has appeared to have dropped vocalist Kat Steih and drummer Tom Hohman, who aren’t credited with an appearance on Damballah. Sonically, this album feels more polished than its predecessor. There’s a richness that was lacking before, a sense of clarity that Larson seems to have added here. He still hypnotizes with his nyatiti but doesn’t lose himself behind the other players. That sense of mesmerizing repetition of short passages on the resonant lute-like instrument is what sets the music of the Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band apart from other rock groups who play in the psychedelic vein. It’s easy to get lost in the intricate plucking patterns as the guitars and synths swirl about. The rhythms bounce cleverly against those created by the percussion, anchoring the songs to solid ground. Balancing the airy and the earthy, Dr. Peter Larson and His Cytotoxic Nyatiti Band create a cosmic commotion perfect for contemplation.

James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet — Jesup Wagon (TAO Forms)

Jesup Wagon by James Brandon Lewis / Red Lily Quintet

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek said, “’Fallen Flowers’ and ‘Seer’ contain sections of almost telepathic convergence, the former and the closing ‘Chemurgy’ culminating in Lewis’ spoken words inculcating the import of his subject.”

Tim Clarke’s take:

Tenor saxophonist and composer James Brandon Lewis demonstrates his control of the instrument in the opening moments of Jesup Wagon’s title track. Before his Red Lily Quintet bandmates join the fray, he alternates between hushed ululations and full-blooded honks, inviting the listener to lean in conspiratorially. Once the rest of the band fire up, cornet player Kirk Knuffke, bassist William Parker, cellist Chris Hoffman and drummer Chad Taylor lock into a loose, muscular shuffle. Their collective chemistry is immediately evident, and each player has the opportunity to shine across this diverse set’s 50-minute runtime. I’m particularly drawn to the rapid-fire rhythmic runs on “Lowlands of Sorrow,” the gorgeous cello on “Arachis,” and the spacious, mbira-laced “Seer.” There’s something about the mournful horn melody of the final piece, “Chemurgy,” that sends me back to first hearing Ornette Coleman’s “Lonely Woman” — and, just like that, I’m excited about the prospect of exploring jazz again, for the first time in a long time. Great pick, Derek.

Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed — The Ritual And The Dance (Astral Spirits)

the Ritual and the Dance by Roscoe Mitchell & Mike Reed

Who recommended it? Derek Taylor

Did we review it? Yes, Derek wrote, “Roscoe Mitchell remains an improvisational force to be reckoned with.”

Andrew Forell’s take:

For 17-plus minutes, Roscoe Mitchell solos on his soprano with barely a pause, the rush of notes powered by circular breathing, as drummer Mike Reed’s controlled clatter counterpoints Mitchell’s exploration of his instrument’s range and tonal qualities in what sounds like a summation of his long career at the outer edge of jazz. It‘s an extraordinary beginning to this performance, recorded live in 2015. On first listen it sounds chaotic, but shapes emerge in Mitchell’s sound, and Reed’s combination of density and silence complements, punctuates and supports in equal measure. After an incisive solo workout from Reed combining clanging metal and rolling toms, Mitchell swaps to tenor and the pace changes. Longer, slower notes, a rougher, reed heavy tone and a lighter touch from Reed. Having not closely followed Mitchell’s work since his days in The Art Ensemble Of Chicago, this performance was a revelation and will have me searching back through his catalog.

The Notwist — Vertigo Days (Morr Music)

Vertigo Days by The Notwist

Who recommended it? Tim Clarke

Did we review it? Yes, Tim said, “The Notwist really know how to structure a front-to-back listening experience, and this is emphatically a work of art best appreciated as a whole.”

Arthur Krumins’ take:

In his review of Vertigo Days, Tim Clarke highlights the “multiple layers of drifting, shifting instrumentation.” It is an album that seems unbound by adherence to a set instrument lineup, and it moves quickly between moods both frenetic and contemplative. However, due to a careful mixing and an unforced approach to genre expectations, it is a surprising and varied listen that bears repeated scrutiny. The touchstones of the sound are at times the motorik beat of krautrock, at others the ethereal indie pop of their melodies and the quality of their singing. It feels like the perfect quirky coffee shop album, just out there enough to create a vibe, but tactful enough to take you along for the ride.

Dorothea Paas — Anything Can’t Happen (Telephone Explosion)

Anything Can't Happen by Dorothea Paas

Who picked it? Arthur Krumins.

Did we review it? No.

Eric McDowell’s take:

In one sense, it’s fair to say that Dorothea Paas’s debut album opens with a false start: A single note sounded and then retreated from, fingers sliding up and down the fretboard with the diffidence of a throat clearing. Yet what gesture could more perfectly introduce an album so marked by uncertainty, vulnerability, and naked self-assessment?

If Anything Can’t Happen is an open wound, it’s a wound Paas willingly opens: “I’m not lonely now / Doing all the things I want to and working on my mind / Sorting through old thoughts.” That doesn’t make the pain any less real — though it does make it more complex. “It’s so hard to trust again / When you can’t even trust yourself,” Paas sings on the utterly compelling title track, her gaze aiming both inward and outward. Elsewhere she admits: “I long for a body closer to mine / But I don’t want to seek, I just want to find.” Instrumentally, Paas and her bandmates manage to temper an inclination toward static brooding with propulsive forward motion, a balance that suits the difficult truth — or better yet, difficult truce — the album arrives at in the climactic “Frozen Window”: “How can I open to love again, like a plant searches for light through a frozen window? / Can I be loved, or is it all about control? / I will never know until I start again.” In the spirit of starting again, Anything Can’t Happen ends with a doubling down on the opening prelude, reprising and extending it — no false start to be found.

Dominic Pifarely Quartet — Nocturnes (Clean Feed)

Nocturnes by Dominique Pifarély Quartet

Who recommended it? Jason Bivins

Did we review it? No

Derek Taylor’s take:

Pifarely and I actually go way back in my listening life, specifically to Acoustic Quartet, an album the French violinist made for ECM as a co-leader with countryman clarinetist Louis Sclavis in 1994. Thirty-something at the time, his vehicle for that venture was an improvising chamber ensemble merging classical instrumentation and extended techniques with jazz and folk derived influences. The results, playful and often exhilaratingly acrobatic, benefited greatly from austere ECM house acoustics. Nearly three decades distant, Nocturnes is a different creature, delicate and darker hued in plumage and less enamored of melody, harmony and rhythm, at least along conventional measures. Drones and other textures are regular elements of the interplay between the leader’s strings, the piano of Antonin Rayon and the sparse braiding and shadings of bassist Bruno Chevillon and drummer Francois Merville. Duos also determine direction, particular on the series of titular miniatures that are as much about space as they are centered in sound. It’s delightful to get reacquainted after so much time apart.

The Reds Pinks & Purples — Uncommon Weather (Slumberland/Tough Love)

Uncommon Weather by The Reds, Pinks & Purples

Who picked it? Jennifer Kelly

Did we review it? Yes, Jennifer said, “Uncommon Weather is undoubtedly the best of the Reds, Pinks & Purples discs so far, an album that is damned near perfect without seeming to try very hard.”

Bill Meyer’s take:

Sometimes a record hits you where you live. Glenn Donaldson’s too polite to do you any harm, but he not only knows where you live, he knows your twin homes away from home, the record store and the club where you measure your night by how many bands’ sets separate you from last call. He knows the gushing merch-table mooches and the old crushes that casually bring the regulars down, and he also knows how to make records just like the ones that these folks have been listening to since they started making dubious choices. Uncommon Weather sounds like a deeply skilled recreation of early, less chops-heavy Bats, and if that description makes sense to you, so will this record.

claire rousay — A Softer Focus (American Dreams Records)

a softer focus by Claire Rousay

Who picked it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? Yes, Bryon Hayes wrote, “These field recordings of the mundane, when coupled with the radiance of the musical elements, are magical.”

Ian Mathers’ take:

In a weird way (because they are very different works from very different artists), A Softer Focus reminds me a bit of Robert Ashley’s Private Parts (The Album). Both feel like the products of deep focus and concentration but wear their rigor loosely, and both feel like beautifully futile attempts to capture or convey the rich messiness of human experience. But although there is a musicality to Private Parts, Ashley is almost obsessed by language and language acts, and even though the human voice is more present than ever in rousay’s work (not just sampled or field recorded, but outright albeit technologically smeared singing on a few tracks) it feels like it reaches to a place in that experience beyond words. The first few times I played it I had moments where I was no longer sure exactly what part of what I was hearing were coming from my speakers versus from outside my apartment, and as beautiful as the more conventional ambient/drone aspects of A Softer Focus are (including the cello and violin heard throughout), it’s that kind of intoxicating disorientation, of almost feeling like I’m experiencing someone else’s memory, that’s going to stay with me the longest.

M. Sage — The Wind Of Things (Geographic North)

The Wind of Things by M. Sage

Who recommended it? Bryon Hayes

Did we review it? No

Bill Meyer’s take:

Matthew Sage’s hybrid music gets labeled as ambient by default. Sure, it’s gentle enough to be ignorable, but Sage’s combination of ruminative acoustic playing (mostly piano and guitar, with occasional seasoning from reeds, violin, banjo, and percussion) and memory-laden field recordings feels so personal that it’s hard to believe he’d really be satisfied with anyone treating this stuff as background music. But that combination of the placid and the personal may also be The Wind of Things’ undoing since it’s a bit too airy and undemonstrative to make an impression.

Skee Mask — Pool (Ilian Tape)

ITLP09 Skee Mask - Pool by Skee Mask

Who picked it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

Pool is an appropriate title for the new album by Munich electronic artist Bryan Müller. The record is huge and deep, with its 18 tracks clocking in at around 103 minutes. And Müller has pointedly only released the digital version of Pool through Bandcamp, adding it a little hurdle to fans who just want to pick and choose from its wares for their playlists. Dipping one’s toes in is an option, but the only way to truly appreciate the full effect is to dive on in.

Though Müller filled Pool up with around five years’ worth of material, the album plays like the result of great deliberation. It flows with the thoughtfulness and intention of an adventurous DJ set, with furious breakbeat explosions like “Breathing Method” making way for the languorous ambient track “Ozone” and the unbound “Rio Dub.” Then, without warning, the drum ‘n’ bass breaks kick in for a while.

The full album delights in those quick shifts into new genres or wild seemingly disparate sonic connections happening within the span of a single song. But again, these decisions don’t sound like they were made carelessly. Müller took some time with this one to get the track list just right. But if there is one thread that runs along the entirety of Pool, it is the air of joy that cuts through even its downcast moments. The splashing playfulness is refreshing and inviting.

Speaker Music — Soul-Making Theodicy (Planet Mu)

Soul-Making Theodicy by Speaker Music

Who picked it? Mason Jones

Did we review it? No

Robert Ham’s take:

The process by which DeForrest Brown Jr., the artist known as Speaker Music, created his latest EP sounds almost as exciting as the finished music. If I understand it correctly — and I’m not entirely sure that I do — he created rhythm tracks using haptic synths, a Push sequencer, and a MIDI keyboard, that he sent through Ableton and performed essentially a live set of abstract beats informed by free jazz, trap and marching band. Or as Brown calls them “stereophonic paintings.”

Whatever term you care to apply to these tracks and however they were made, the experience of listening to them is a dizzying one. A cosmic high that takes over the synapses and vibrates them until your vision becomes blurry and your word starts to smear together like fog on a windshield. Listening to this EP on headphones makes the experience more vertiginous if, like I did, you try to unearth the details and sounds buried within the centerpiece track “Rhythmatic Music For Speakers,” a 33-minute symphony of footwork stuttering and polyrhythms. Is that the sound of an audience responding to this sensory overload that I hear underneath it all? Or is that wishful imaginings coming from a mind hungry for the live music experience?

The Telescopes — Songs of Love And Revolution (Tapete)

Songs Of Love And Revolution by the telescopes

Who recommended it? Robert Ham

Did we review it? No.

Andrew Forell’s take:

Songs Of Love And Revolution glides along on murky subterranean rhythms that evoke Mo Tucker’s heartbeat toms backed with thick bowel-shaking bass lines. Somewhere in the murk Stephen Lawrie’s murmured vocals barely surface as he wrings squalls of noise from his guitar to create a dissonant turmoil to contrast the familiarity of what lies beneath. The effect is at once hypnotic and joltingly thrilling, similar to hearing Jesus And Mary Chain for the first time but played a at pace closer to Bedhead. A kind of slowcore shoegaze, its mystery enhanced by what seems deliberately monochrome production that forces and rewards close attention. When they really let go on “We See Magic And We Are Neutral, Unnecessary” it hits like The Birthday Party wrestling The Stooges. So yeah, pretty damn good.

Leon Vynehall — Rare, Forever (Ninja Tune)

Rare, Forever by LEON VYNEHALL

Who recommended it? Patrick Masterson

Did we review it? No.

Jason Bivins’ take:

I was amused to see Leon Vynehall’s album tucked into the expansive “Unknown genre” non-category. This is, as is often the case with these mid-year exchanges, a bit far afield from the kind of music I usually spin. Much of it is, I suppose, rooted in house music. Throughout these tracks, there are indeed some slinky beats that’ll get you nodding your head while prepping the dinner or while studying in earnest. There’s plenty to appreciate on the level of grooves and patterns, but he closer you listen, the more subversive, sneaky details you notice. The opening “Ecce! Ego!” isn’t quite as brash as the title would suggest, featuring some playfully morphed voices, old school synth patches and snatches of instrumentalism. But after just a couple minutes, vast cosmic sounds start careening around your brainpan while a metal bar drops somewhere in the audial space. Did that just happen? you wonder as the groove continues. Moments of curiosity and even discomfort are plopped down, sometimes as transitions (like the closing vocal announcement on “In>Pin” — “like a moth” — that introduces the echo-canyon of “Mothra”) but usually as head-scrambling curveballs. Startled voices or flutes or subterranean sax bubble up from beneath deep house thrum, then are gone in ways that are arresting and deceptive. I still don’t know what to make of the lounge-y closing to “Snakeskin – Has-Been” or the unexpected drone monolith of “Farewell! Magnus Gabbro.” In its way, Vynehall’s music is almost like what you’d get if Graham Lambkin or Jason Lescalleet made a house record. Pretty rich stuff.

Michael Winter — single track (Another Timbre)

single track by Michael Winter

Who recommended it? Eric McDowell

Did we review it? Not yet!

Mason Jones’ take:

Over its 45 minutes, Michael Winter’s 2015 composition slowly accelerates and accumulates, starting from an isolated violin playing slightly arrhythmic, single fast strokes. The playing, centered around a single root note, seems almost random, but flashes of melodic clusters make it clear they're not. After nine minutes other players have joined in and there's a developing drone, as things sort of devolve, with atonal combinations building. By the one-third mark everything has slowed down significantly, and the players are blending together, with fewer melodies standing out. Instead, it's almost more drone than not; and at a half hour in, most of the strings have been reduced to slowly changing tones. As we near the end we’re hearing beautiful layers of string drones, descending into the final few minutes of nearly static notes. It's an intriguing and oddly listenable composition given its atonality. The early moments bring to mind Michael Nyman, and the later movements summon thoughts of Tony Conrad and La Monte Young, but it's clearly different from any of them, and more than the sum of those parts.

Young Slo-Be — Red Mamba (KoldGreedy Entertainment / Thizzler On The Roof)

youtube

Who picked it? Ray Garraty

Did we review it? No.

Ian Mathers’ take:

The 12 tracks on Red Mamba fly by in a little over 27 minutes (not a one breaks the three-minute mark) but the result doesn’t feel slight so much as pared down to a sharpness you might cut yourself on. Stockon’s Young Slo-Be only seems to have one flow (or maybe it’d be more accurate to say he only seems interested in one) but he knows how to wield it with precision and force, and if the subject matter hews closely to the accepted canon of gangbanger concerns, Slo-Be delivers it all with vivid language and the studied, superior disdain of an older brother explaining the world to you and busting your chops at the same time. The tracks on Red Mamba all come from different producers, but Slo-Be consistently chooses spectral, eerie, foreboding backgrounds for these songs, even when adding piano and church bells (on “Asshole”), dog barks (“21 Thoughts”) or even Godfather-esque strings (the closing “Rico Swavo”). What’s the old line about the strength of street knowledge? These are different streets, and different knowledge.

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scmsdivinecultists · 4 years

Text

A Day in the Department of Fuckery

Warnings: Occasional curse word and tons of crack.

Written by Admin Karebear

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was a peaceful morning within the palace of the heavens. Although powerful beings such as gods did not need sleep, many retired to their private rooms when the sun set and spent quiet time with their families or lovers. The sun was half-way above the horizon now, painting the endless sky a shade of beautiful orange. Most of the gods who lived in the palace had yet to leave their rooms and begin work, but unfortunately, duty called for some at this hour.

“Who the fuck thought this was a good idea?” Teresa complained, dragging her feet down the empty hallway.

“Zyglavis.” Kare replied, turning her head left so she could look at her companion. “Apparently he requested to have the meeting at this time.”

“Who the heck approved it?”

“The king.”

Teresa groaned. “Of course he did. Probably wants to see me suffer.”

Kare smirked. “Well, our job is to amuse him.”

Teresa, the Goddess of Equality, had long black hair, dark eyes and wore eyeglasses for style. She served as the minister for the Department of Fuckery. Kare, the Goddess of Peace, also wore a pair of glasses in front of her brown eyes, though her hair was berry purple and stopped on top of her shoulders. Kare was chosen as the vice-minister for the new department.

The Department of Fuckery was created not long ago by the King of the Heavens. His Highness felt that the palace had grown too dull and was growing quite bored of his old tricks. So, by creating a new department with some of the most chaotic goddesses in the heavens, the king had found a new way to toy with the gods in Wishes and Punishments.

Reaching the large door at the end of the hall, the goddesses went in. On the other side was a grand room held for meetings between all three departments. As expected, the minister and vice-minister of Punishments were already inside.

“Good morning gentlemen.” Kare greeted the men upon entry.

“Good morning.” Zyglavis replied.

Instead of using words, Scorpio replied with a nod, not thrilled about the early hour either. The women took their seats on their side of the circular table, Teresa’s eyes fixing into a glare pointed at Zyglavis. The ambiance of the room turned from quiet to awkward in a matter of minutes.

Finally, Zyglavis let out a sigh. “Lady Teresa, is there something you would like to say?”

If it were possible, Teresa’s glare grew colder. “Yeah. What’s the deal with holding the meeting at this ungodly hour?”

“Punishments has a large task to complete later today. This time was best for us.”

“Oh, so we’re working around your schedule-”

“Teresa.” Kare cut in, giving the Fuckery Minister a look.

Teresa huffed and crossed her arms, slouching back into her chair. Kare wasn’t usually this uptight, but when it came to work that woman didn’t didn’t make a habit of messing around.

The door opened once again, revealing the missing Minister and Vice-Minister of Wishes. Leon, unsurprisingly, looked annoyed while Karno wore a friendly, relaxed expression.

“You’re late.” Zyglavis snapped, his tone sharp and unforgiving.

“Yes, we’re sorry.” Karno apologized, taking a seat. “There were some... distractions this morning.”

Scorpio scoffed. “Figures.”

The corner of Leon’s mouth curled up. “Spent the night alone again, did you?”

Scorpio clicked his tongue and narrowed his eyes. “Better then whatever disgusting woman you allowed into your bed.”

Kare bit her bottom lip and quickly clasped a hand over her mouth to hide her smile, trying to withhold the giggles bubbling in her chest. Teresa, on the other hand, burst into a fit of laughter, not caring when Leon’s glare shifted to her.

Zyglavis, who’s eyebrows furrowed another inch, cleared his throat. “It’s time to get started. Punishments doesn’t have the luxury of time the four of you do.”

“You wouldn’t be so behind if you got your problem children under control.” Leon said, a confident smirk tugging at his lips. “Perhaps you should transfer them to Fuckery. Seems like they’ll get more work done over there.”

Teresa wasn’t laughing anymore. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Ichthys would fit in, honestly...” Kare muttered.

The Fuckery Minister turned to her Vice-Minister. “Ok, he would, but that’s not the point.”

Karno, seeing that the meeting was going no where, decided to take things into his own hands. “I see that everyone has a lot of energy this morning. We should be able to get through this rather quickly if we begin now.”

Kare nodded in agreement. “Every Department has a problem child and we shouldn’t leave them unattended for too long.”

‘Our entire department is nothing but problem children.’ Teresa thought.

“Fine. We’ll start.” Leon said, sliding a paper across the table in Teresa’s direction. “What the hell is this foreign language?”

“I was going to ask about that, too.” Zyglavis added. “It’s incomprehensible.”

Teresa lifted a brow and picked up the paper, reading the first few lines. “Dammit, Cupid.”

Kare glanced over. “Don’t tell me she-”

“Wrote in human slang again? Why yes, yes she did.”

“Oh boy.”

Teresa cleared her throat and began reading out loud. “This week, I would like to report that there had been an increased number of thots roaming the palace. I have reason to believe these thots were given an invitation to enter by either Leon, Teorus or Tauxolouve from the Department of Wishes, though there is also a possibility that Partheno from Punishments is involved. I can’t help but LOL at how shook some of these thots looked; can’t determine if they’ve been ghosted yet or not. These thots were trying to flex, but I threw hands with those extra goddesses. In the end, I got them to spill some tea, hit them with a ‘Bye, Felicia’, then yeeted their salty asses out the door. It was lit and I wish someone was there to see me snatch their weaves. I can’t help but ROFL at how highkey desperate these thots are to sleep with any of the gods listed above. Now I’m hangry.”

Now finished reading, Teresa looked up at the others. Everyone seated at the table, except for Kare, clearly were unable to process anything that had been said.

Kare broke the silence. “Basically, we’ve noticed a lot of goddess wandering the halls and have had to escort them out. Make sure your guys clean up after themselves.”

Scorpio clicked his tongue, eyes narrowing in rage. “That miget wrote all that garbage for a simple explanation like that?!”

“You say garbage, I say work or art.” Teresa said, folding the report. “Anything else we can translate for you?”

Karno nodded and placed a smaller paper in Kare’s hand. “This was attached to the front of the report.”

Kare read the note first in her head, then out loud. “Tell Aigo to report to my office for a pegging.” Her brows furrowred and she turned to her superior. “What’s pegging?”

Teresa shrugged. “First I’m hearing of it. She must have learned a new word. Did Aigo go see her?”

“Yeah. The way he jumped out of bed and ran, he must know what that term means.” Leon said.

Zyglavis, who usually had a face of stone, was looking away from everyone in attempt to hide his reddened cheeks. This failed, though, as Scorpio noticed right away.

“What the hell’s wrong with you?” Scorpio asked.

Zyglavis cleared his throat. “Nothing. I don’t see why we are wasting time translating this nonsense.”

Leon smirked. “Oh-ho, so Minister Ponytail does know what ‘pegging’ means.”

“If I did, I would have said so, rabid lion.”

The meeting continued. Gods had a very different sense of time then humans did, but even for the goddesses in Fuckery, time moved painfully slow. When it was finally over, Teresa and Kare returned to their department. Inside were more members of the Department of Fuckery, who had finally left their chambers. Moli, the Goddess of Domination and Maisey, the Goddess of Submission, were having a casual conversation on large couch. Curled up on a single chair was Kay, the Goddess of Innocence.

Moli was twirling a lock of long, red hair around her finger. Her green eyes were focused on Maisey, listening earnestly to her friend. Maisey had long hair that started brown, then faded into a deep shade of green that matched her eyes. Kay’s blue eyes were cast down to the book in her lap. Her hair was also red, but cut to her shoulders. All three were dressed in the Fuckery uniform, which resembled those belonging to Wishes and Punishments, just more of a femanine style. Each goddess in the department wore a velvet-red arm band.

“Thank god that’s over!” Teresa exclaimed, disrupting the quiet atmosphere. “Cupid, you coward! Where are you?”

“She’s in her office.” Moli said, pointing towards the back of the department.

Teresa huffed and stormed towards the office. Kare, choosing to stay behind, took a seat on the couch as well, near Kay’s chair.

“How was the meeting?” Kay asked.

“Chaotic, as always.” Kare replied, nodding towards the book in the red-head’s lap. “Whatcha’ reading?”

“A book from Earth. It’s called 50 Shades of Grey.”

“Sounds interesting. What’s it about?”

Kay’s cheeks turned pink as she shook her head. “You don’t wanna know.”

Kare was confused by the statement, but chose to let it go.

Moli reached over and tapped the vice-minister’s shoulder. “How was Zyg?”

The purple-haired goddess shrugged. “He didn’t seem any different then usual. Although, I’m a little worried he may be over-working himself...”

Maisey raised a brow. “What makes you say that?”

“His face flushed red in the middle of the meeting. If gods were capable of getting sick I would assume it was an illness, but he seemed, I don’t know, embarrassed?”

“Zyg? Embarrassed?” Kay asked, not believing her ears. “Impossible. Over what?”

“Cupid wrote something about ‘pegging’ in one of her notes and no one could figure out what it meant.”

Moli, who looked concerned a minute ago, was now smiling. She almost looked proud.

“Oh, I see.” Moli said, picking up her glass from the coffee table and taking a sip.

Moli and Maisey exchanged a look. Only they knew the reason behind Zyglavis’ embarrassment and who was the cause of it. Kare was about to ask, but Kay quickly shook her head as of saying ‘don’t’. So, once again, Kare was left in the dark.

Maisey downed the rest of her glass. “I gotta ask Hue for more wine. This is good shit.”

“I can’t believe how high your alcohol tolerance is.” Kay said. “Or that your drinking this early in the morning.”

Maisey shrugged. “Gotta get fucked up to fuck things up, right?”

“Preach!” Moli exclaimed, raising her glass in a toast before chugging the rest of it. “Hey, Kare, you want some?”

Kare thought about it. “I really shouldn- ah, screw it. Why not?”

“What about you, Kay?” Maisey asked.

Kay smiled but politely declined.

Teresa lifted her hand to knock on the door, but decided against and threw it open instead.

“Cupid, what the hell is this?” Teresa asked the department’s secretary, waving the report from earlier in her hand.

Cupid, who had been calmly writing at her desk, paused to look at the Minister. Cupid, the Goddess of Infatuation, was small but mighty. She had short brown hair and brown eyes that matched. Also in the room was Ruby. Ruby, the Goddess of Dreams, was the youngest in the department and acted as Fuckery’s messenger while training beneath the others. She had dark, medium length hair and gentle brown eyes.

“Ew, it’s you.” Cupid huffed. “That’s the report, you hooligan. Maybe if you stopped putting sugar on your lettuce you’d have figured that out.”

“Sugar on my- At least I don’t go after basic human white boys!” Teresa snapped back. “I knew what this was. Why all the slang? The gods couldn’t make any sense of it.”

“I was doing my job and made the meeting more entertaining.” Cupid smirked. “How ridiculous were their faces?”

Teresa laughed. “I’ve never seen Zyg look more confused in my life. Scorpio was kinda pissed, Leon was flat out confused and Karno was just like ‘oh, ok’. It was priceless.”

“Um, no one is going to get in trouble, right?” Ruby asked nervously. “Those meetings seem important, so...”

Teresa shook her head. “They’re important, yeah, but we’re the department of Fuckery; we’re supposed to mess a around. I don’t know about you, but I don’t want to be on the receiving end of the king’s boredom. That’s what Leon is for.”

“Ruby helped me with slang research.” Cupid said, patting the younger goddess’ head. “Good work.”

Ruby blushed. “T-Thank you.”

Teresa flashed Ruby a smile before turning back to Cupid. “By the way, what does ‘pegging’ mean? Leon and Karno want to know.”

Cupid laughed. “You don’t wanna know. Trust me. It will ruin you forever.”

“Nothing can ruin me more then the lot of you have.”

“Okay, you asked for it.” Cupid looked at Ruby. “Cover your ears for a minute.”

Ruby was confused, but did as told. Cupid approached Teresa and explained it to her quietly. When she finished, Teresa was frozen in place trying to process what she had just heard. Part of her wasn’t surprised, but at the same time, she was.

Teresa groaned. “Great. Now I have an image of you and Aigo-”

A voice suddenly shouted across the department. “Ladies! We have a problem!”

Teresa, Cupid and Ruby exchanged looks before racing into the main room where the others were. Kare, Moli, Maisey and Kay were still present, but one more goddess now stood amongst them. Bonnibell, the Goddess of Chaos, had a darker complexion then the others and was equally as beautiful with her curly dark hair and powerful eyes. In this moment, her eyes had a fire blazing behind them.

“B? What’s wrong?” Teresa asked.

“I caught a rat trying to sneak in here.” Bonnibell explained.

Ruby flinched. “A-A rat?”

“Poor thing must have lost it’s way.” Kay said. “We should release him outside.”

“Oh, it’s not that kind of rat.”

Bonnibell turned and headed out the door. The other goddesses were confused, but rushed after her, curious to see what their friend had caught.

Out in the hall, the goddesses found someone sitting on the floor, wrists and feet tied together. The god was wearing white clothing, had blonde hair and gold eyes. Everyone recognized him instantly.

“Teorus!” Kare exclaimed, eyes narrowing as her hands placed themselves on her hips. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Teorus laughed nervously. “I heard Fuckery was having some trouble with my goddesses, so I thought I would come guard the hallway. Can’t have anyone getting hurt, right?”

“Oh, so you’re the one who’s been letting all those thots in?” Cupid realized, crossing her arms.

“I don’t know what that means, but it sounds mean.” Teorus snapped his fingers to free himself from the bonds and stood up. “If you ladies are thaaaat jealous, my door is always open. I’ll accept you all.”

None of the goddess laughed. In fact, they were all harshly glaring at him. Teorus seemed to realize what grave he had just dug for himself and took off down the hall.

“After him!” Teresa commanded.

The goddesses of Fuckery gave chase, racing through the palace after the blonde god. Teorus could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He was so focused on the women hunting him that he didn’t think to slow down before racing around the corner. As a result, he ran face first into someone. The impact sent Teorus falling onto his ass.

“Ow!” Teorus hissed.

Krioff glared down at him. “What did you do that for?”

“Ah! Krioff!” Teorus exclaimed, still on the floor. “You gotta help me! The girls in Fuckery are reaaally mad at me!”

Krioff looked past Teorus to the mob of enraged goddesses standing before him. “I can see that.”

Knowing better then to get involved, Krioff turned his back and started walking in the other direction.

Teorus’ heart sank. “You’re not gonna help me?!”

“No. See ya.” Krioff replied, not looking back.

The goddesses pounced. Moli and Maisey each took a leg and started dragging Teorus across the floor, heading back to the department. The others followed, ignoring Teorus’ pleas for mercy and forgiveness. The goddesses hauled him into Fuckery and closed the door. Teorus’ screams could no longer be heard echoing in the halls.

~~~~~~~

Minister Teresa: @teresa-yukibito

Vice-Ministed Karebear: @karebearotome

Cupid: @incurablecupidity

Moli: @john-bull-leun

Maisey: @voltage-supernatural-art

Kay: @jer-ich0

Bonnibell: @bonnisimpparker

Ruby: @currentlysleepy

#scm #star crossed myth #admin Karebear

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thewebcomicsreview · 4 years

Photo

What’s that? I’m talking about Homestuck too much lately? Well, too bad, it updated and I’m-a livebloggin’ it. This chapter contains a content warning for child abuse and I’m thus putting the rest of this post below a Read More, though I’m live blogging and don’t know what the child abuse content actually is.

Looks like we’re with Jane, so this might be the chapter with Yiffy in it! But probably not, because they’re gonna drag it out. Incidentally, since the rebellion consists of two max-level characters, four god tiers (John, Jake, Rose, and Jade), and now Vriska who is the 8est fighter 8y far, how does Jane even stand a chance? Good thing for her that she pre-emptively took a hostage!

JANE: (I've always been pretty good at crying on cue.) JANE: (Could I try staging an emotional breakdown?) JANE: (That could work; playing to people's humanity.) JANE: (Or whatever is the more inclusive term.)

I do like that Jane, a genocidal human-supremacist dictator, is worried about being “inclusive” in her propaganda. I wonder if she’s starting to drift from Trumphitler into Nancy Pelosi, now. Also interesting: She’s apparently using Gamzee’s death for propaganda value, cool and all, but her superpower is literally raising the dead. I can buy that Jane would rather use her ex-boyfriend for propaganda than revive him, but won’t the people of Earth C have questions?

DIRK: Dude, the bowl. JAKE: Hm? JAKE: Oh, right. JANE: What is it now, Jake. JAKE: I brought something for our guest as well. JANE: You mean the prisoner. JAKE: Y...es.

I realize that Yiffygate made the patreon rocket to the stratosphere, but I hope we’re not actually getting to see her so soon. It’s more fun to speculate. For instance, she’s apparently getting meals in a dog bowl. Is that because she’s literally half dog, moreso than Jade, and is feral in some way? That’s been hinted at a little, but it’s also possible Jane’s just tormenting her to be a bitch. As we saw when she was Crockerfied in Act 6, Jane’s got a bit of a sadistic streak in her.

Well, that was answered pretty fucking fast! Okay, let’s not click next just yet. If we’re only getting one panel to speculate, let’s milk it like a dying webcomic franchise: Preppy bording school outfit, but with cleats, so she’s apparently an athlete. Lots of pink highlights on her outfit (shoes/socks/tie). She’s got a black dog tail, but appears to have light hair? I like this design, actually, or what little of it we’re seeing. I was half-expecting Yiffy to be a full-on Deviantart parody, but I think the angle we’re going here is “a mostly normal girl, besides being part dog, who’s just been absolutely shit on by life and every adult she’s ever encountered”. It’s not her fault her name is Yiffany, y’know? She didn’t ask for this.

Let’s see how right I am.

JANE: Well, go on then. JANE: She's over in the corner. JANE: Don't worry, she won't bite. JANE: I've seen to that already.

The fact that this chapter had a content warning for child abuse makes this read a lot more “Yikes” than it might’ve otherwise.

DIRK: Jake. DIRK: You put the food in a fucking dog bowl. JAKE: (It was all there was, ok???)

I feel like this is actually worse than if Jane put the food in a dog bowl to torment Yiffy.

I told you we’d fall in love with her. I told you dog.

....I don’t know if the MSPA art style lends itself to slightly raised camera angles like this, it looks like Yiffy’s face is 50% forehead.

*Lore hat on*

Okay, first off, dick move electrocuting a child. That out of the way. Yiffy is communicating in wolf howls (she must be a big fan of Toast, from my webcomic Saffron and Sage!), but she’s also literally being electrocuted so lets cut her some slack. What’s more interesting is that her Awoos are in red.

Vrissy shares a font color with Vriska, who she’s trying to emulate. They even use the same CSS class in the site code. Tavros shares his with Gamzee, his abusive uncle (and doesn’t have the same CSS class). Harry Anderson has a unique font color that’s pretty close to his dad’s, but isn’t quite the same (possible to make Harry/John chats more readable, whereas Vriska and Vrissy being hard to distinguish is the joke?). Yiffy, however, does not speak in either Jade’s green or Rose’s purple, she speaks in red. It’s a unique shade of red, I checked, and while it could potentially be in reference to Dave, let’s get real

Obviously, she’s the new Handmaid. This was obvious enough that I was making that comparison even before we learned her red text and rebellious personality. So I’m starting to see what they’re going for here (and, god help me, I’m starting to come around to Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley as a concept). She’s not a one-dimensional joke of a character, she’s just a normal girl having a fucking rough time of it right now and also always. Speaking of time, red is connected to the Time aspect, which isn’t confirmation of anything but a little note to put in the back of your pocket.

Also to put in your back pocket, Jane’s the new Condesce and Yiffy’s the new Handmaid. The Condesce killed the Handmaid.

JANE: You've been a thorn in my side ever since I agreed to enroll you at the academy, little madam. JANE: Back then, I was doing a favor for two old friends who made a disgusting mistake. JANE: I'm no longer going to play nice with you just because of your parents, however. JANE: That truce is over.

That’s some efficient expositing!

Man, I really am coming around to this Yiffy thing, holy shit. I actually think her reveal last chapter was actively designed to get fans to hate the concept as much as possible, and not just from a Controversy Creates Ca$h kind of way (though that didn’t hurt).The entire fandom has been calling Yiffy a disgusting mistake for three weeks, and now here’s Jane doing it, and we’re being asked to consider this from Yiffy’s perspective: Given a stupid name as a joke, shunted off to boarding school by parents who were ashamed of her existence, repeatedly told she’s a disgusting mistake and tortured, even the fans all hate her on sight, and she literally hasn’t said a word yet! That’s....legitimately pretty cool writing, right there. A deft and entirely intentional juking of the fandom’s emotional state to get us to hate a character conceptually so that now when the comic’s trying to get us to sympathize with her it’s an easier sell because we feel a bit guilty. I dig it. Shit like this is why I still read Homestuck, it can be very clever at times, even now.

(Pierced ears, in case the punky aesthetic wasn’t obvious). Also, the page with a gif of everything going dark as Yiffy passes out has a black background, which is a nice touch.

TG: but seriously, do you? AG: Not really. TG: not even about... you know? TG: her? AG: No. TG: ... are you sure? AG: A8solutely. AG: What are you, my moirail? AG: Just leave it, Harry. TG: ok.

Then we cut to a chatlog (with the all-black background, which is just really nice here at selling the mood), and even Vrissy doesn’t want to talk about Yiffany.

AG: It was Cute, 8lright???????? AG: Or, at the very least, a 8*cketload less vomit worthy than everything else that Went Down with our parents.

She’s “vomit-worthy”

I think the update that introduced the Candy Kids was the most enjoyable, but this was, by miles, the best thing to come out of the Homestuck EU. It completely redeemed everything this comic did with Yiffy so far and made it all work. And this black-background-no-image gimmick, while simple, was shockingly effective at conveying the lonely empty mood they were going for (admittedly it probably helped that I was already listening to spooky music), and it’s something Homestuck had never done. This was....

This chapter was great. This was Act 5 great. Like, it’s literally just beating up a child for a whole chapter, but in terms of getting the emotional response they wanted, this is Homestuck at its absolute best. It wasn’t just “here’s a cute girl, let’s beat her up a bit for sympathy”, all the stuff in the last chapter, infuriating the fandom like nothing I’ve seen in webcomics in years, Jade’s dog dick, it was all for this. It was all to get us predisposed to fucking hate Yiffany Longstocking Lalonde Harley so that they could flip the switch and make us love her, make the very fact that we hated her so much part of the reason we love her now. No other webcomic would do that, no other webcomic would have the balls to do that. This is why I read Homestuck, this is why I’m still hanging on to this rock has the wave of cheating dog dicks keeps smacking me in the face. This is avant-fucking-garde, man. I’ve done a full 180 on Homestuck 2. I’m sold. I stan. I’m Homestuck trash again.

EDIT

Oh, and Vrissy suddenly passed out mid-sentence right around the same time Yiffy passed out (hmmm!), and apparently she’s narcoleptic like Jade (hmmm!)

#Homestuck #Homestuck 2 #Homestuck 2 Liveblog

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justawritingcorner · 4 years

Text

Buzzfeed Unsolved but It’s Dabi and Hawks

I love Buzzfeed Unsolved and I like writing for Dabi and Hawks (my bois). That’s my only excuse.

Elegant snow-white and pastel pink flowers blossomed on the branches of the many trees in the area, drinking in the warm spring breeze and bathing in the bright sunlight. They waved excitedly at the pair as they exited the car. Dabi, worn out from driving for hours, stretched his limbs while his companion took in the elegantly crafted building in front of him. A path made of varying shades of grey stone led from the parking area to the holy church Hawks insisted on going to before they embarked on this cursed trip. Sturdy, white stones held the complimentary, high ceiling, some overhanging to provide some shade to priests and churchgoers passing by. On the top of the most central pillar of the sacred building a cross shone brightly, marking this ground as a sanctuary for all.

“Okay, let’s get this over with,” Dabi huffed as he walked from his side of the car towards Hawks. The younger rolled his eyes at his companion’s words, “Yeah, I just wanna get some words from the Father before we go to the hell-holes, that too much to ask?” He didn’t give the patchwork man a chance to respond before he raced towards the entrance.

Sunlight filtered through the many brilliantly crafted stained glass windows, painting the carpet in an array of beautiful colours. Turning his head, he noticed a particularly well-crafted religious statue in a small alcove. Before the winged hero could admire the artistic works properly, Dabi began walking ahead of him. They continued through the church.

They wondered around for a bit before the two arrived in the room where the sermons took place. Majority of the space was occupied by endless rows of pews facing a large stage, adorned with several beautiful golden treasures and a mahogany lecturn. Smaller stained glass windows flecked the walls, all depicting a notable scene from the Bible. In the plentiful pews, a balding man sits, bowing his head respectfully to the religious objects in front of him.

Dabi and Hawks walked over to him, silently praying it was the pastor they scheduled to meet and not a random praying man. Maybe it was luck from the church, but he was. They sat together on the pew in front of the elder and shifted their bodies around to look at him.

“First of all, thank you for talking with us today.” Father Thomas shook Hawks’s extended hand, then Dabi’s, though with a bit of hesitation. Before he could question it, Hawks began the conversation.

“How many exorcisms have you preformed in your career?”

“Formal exorcisms, I’ve preformed 50 to 75 in 10 years.”

Shock was visible on their faces as he said this. Hawks felt even more respect for the older man blossom in his chest as the preacher relaid this information. Dabi still peeved at the hesitation of the handshake, disbelievingly rolled his eyes. It would take more than that to convince him this bullshit was real.

Now feeling like Thomas was the best person to ask, Hawks proposed the questions that had been gnawing at him for a long time. “What is the difference between a ghost and a demon?” The Father shifted in his black priest robes, “A ghost would refer to a disembodied human soul. A demon is a preternatural angelic creature that rebelled against God.”

“It’s not human,” Hawks echoed.

“No, it’s not. Their life form is dying. They have been dying since the moment they rebelled. And so humans attract them for two reasons. One, because they are parasitic and they feed off our life form, but secondly, their goal is to take as many to hell with them as possible. Because they already know they’ve lost.”

Thomas examined the two’s uncomfortable faces, “I’m not trying to-”

“Oh, no. I just got a shiver down my spine.”

The three talked more about demons and spirits, mostly Thomas and Hawks as Dabi held back laughter at their conversation, before the priest implored, “Where are these homes you’re going into?”

Regret sank back into him as he retold the horrible places Dabi convinced him to go to, “One of them is nearby, The Winchester Mystery House. Essentially, a haunted mansion. The next is the haunted doll island in Mexico City. And the last is perhaps the scariest, it’s a house infested with a demon.”

Noticing the time, Hawks asked for some advice for these places and anything they may come across. Thomas fixed a few wispy strands, stalling for a moment. “If these places you’re going claim to have spiritual attachments, I would do nothing to invite them into any kind of conversation. I would do nothing to create a tie with them.” For the first time since the beginning of the conversation, Dabi spoke, “Treat them like a fine art museum.” Thomas, ignoring the blatant sarcasm, nodded in agreement.

The bird man pulled out a regular unopened water bottle from his coat pocket, “Would it be possible for you to bless this water for me to carry?” It took every ounce of strength in Dabi’s crispy body not to burst out laughing as Thomas began his blessing.

“In the name of the father and of the son and of the holy spirit, in your kindness hear our prayers and pour down the blessing into this element, so that health obtained by calling upon your holy name, will be secure against all attack through Christ, our lord, amen.”

With the conversation ended, they, mostly Hawks, thanked the Father for his time. Dabi, eager to leave the building and head to the Mystery House, sped out of the church. Hawks went to follow his companion, but the Father set a heavy hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Thomas standing behind him, “Do not be afraid, Hawks.” Before he could speak, the pastor made his way out of the building. The winged hero froze for a minute before following Dabi out of the church.

“I feel so comforted and where we’re about to go, it will be the exact opposite,” he muttered as he walked towards his tall friend.

After a few seconds of silence, Hawks told his partner about the preacher’s comforting words. Dabi said nothing at first before a sly smile overtook his neutral features, “Jesus said ‘chill’.” Hawks laughed and repeated the phrased the pastor did not say.

They entered the car with Dabi driving again and Hawks reading off directions. They told jokes and dumb stories, trying to ease the man in the passenger’s seat’s anxiety. It worked, to an extent. The possibility of encountering any evil spirits still terrified Hawks. And the haunted lineup they have planned for the next week wasn’t helping him in the slightest.

#bnha #boko no hero academia #mha #my hero acadamy #my hero academia #hawks bnha #hawks #hawksbnha #dabi #dabi bnha #buzzfeed unsolved au #can you tell i don't know anything about church?#or religion #basically just the beginning to a crack fic #can be read as platonic or a ship. doesn't matter #might not do every episode. but will do some #wrote this instead of sleeping

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alovevigilante · 3 years

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George Carlin: Trix, are for kids.

Kari: Well, Mikey likes it.

George: That’s life. My point exactly.

Kari: What is this in reference to exactly?

George: Cereal.

Kari: why are we discussing cereal? I was politely drinking my coffee, and keeping to myself...

George: you forget, you think ass thoughts, so I’m here, to interrupt your negative flow.

Kari: what was I thinking about?

George: ass.

Kari: I was?! I didn’t even realize I was entertaining that.

George: Kari, you’ve been entertaining ass all this time and you don’t even know it...

Kari: I do? Is it amused?

George: very.

Kari: well then, I guess that’s good?

George: are you happy right now?

Kari: not particularly.

George: then it’s not good.

Kari: right. So, you’re saying that you interrupted my flow, with cereal. Why?

George: couple of reasons: 1. It’s breakfast time, and I’m hungry.

Kari: I’m not.

George: yeah, i noticed.

Kari: ok, well, what’s the second reason?

George: you don’t even realize it, do you?

Kari: probably not. What is it?

George: you are now, alone, and talking to yourself. And I’m not ok with it.

Kari: why not?

George: cause you have a friend waiting to invest in you, and you’re ignoring him.

Kari: I am?!

George: yes.

Kari: ok, who is it?

George: your son. He wants you to talk to him about silly shit. And you are sitting here, wallowing in your old energy of career woes.

Kari: I was?! I’m talking to him!

George: yes, but not fully. So, go give your full attention to him! Watch his Cookie Monster make shit in his food truck even though he’s a monster, and he lives on a street with weird animals that talk, and people who don’t think that’s at all unusual.

Kari: I’ve always wanted to live there too..

George: I know. You’re weird too.

Kari: yeah. So I’ve been told and thought of that way...

George: besides, you’re entirely too filthy to live there because of your ass talk.

Kari: maybe I could live with Oscar... He’s pretty filthy too.

George: no, he already lives with Chong. Besides, Frank oz has banned you from there for life because of your nut bag naughty talk.

Kari: oh... ok. Well, dreams are not all they’re cracked up to be sometimes anyway, I guess.

George: your dreams aren’t you. You create them. Do you think you’d really be happy living on Sesame Street?

Kari: no, I’m pretty ok not doing that.

George: right. So, be cool where you are, and then once that happens, you can move on up to the east side. But before you do that, you have to be cool, with you.

Kari: oh shit. I’m never going to be the Jeffersons, ok?! I’m going to be working on this forever.... I feel like I’ll never get there.

George: well, you won’t if you sit on the internet writing about how you won’t, and avoiding engaging in your present moment which is where you are physically right now in your three dimensional reality.

Karl: good point.

George: it’s why I’m here.

Kari: ok, well, bye for now, I guess.

George; I’m coming with you. There’s nothing going on on here without you. I’m done with the sifting through sexy illustrations to entertain the few who dig them.

Belushi, John: I’m not!

George: yes, we are.

Kari: ok, well, let’s go.

John: noooooooooooooooooo....

George: yes.

Kari: I’m tired.

George: Leave us here then.

John Belushi: yes!!!

Kari: ok, cool. See ya whenever.

Richard Pryor: (to George) listen, she is my pal, ok? I’m not cool with her leaving us here to be ourselves on the internet. I’m not ok with that. Ok?! So no. And I’m mad. And I’m sad. And I’m not going to take it anymore. And I’m going to hold my breath and turn pink and beige and purple and cry and scream and joke and get my dick caught in my fly, and pee on my radio I walk around with, and discuss taboo subjects that most women wouldn’t go near with a ten foot dick asshole combo pole, cause she and I are cool, ok? So leave it be, George!

George: ok, Richie.That’s the reason why she’s upset. This energy she’s writing, is us man, ok? It’s not her. That’s the reason why she’s yelling every five minutes about famous people that she has a slight, marginal interest in.

Kari: that’s actually not true.

George: then why are you yelling?

Kari: ok, well, a few reasons. 1. I’m Italian, so it goes without stereotypical saying, 2. I’m mad, because you guys won’t shut it, and mainly 3. Because these are the NUT BAG MOTHBALLS that made me want to go into the entertainment field to begin with.

George: why does that make you mad and yell?

Kari: because I need a job, and I’m now the laughing stock of Hollywood because of my ass writing! And now, I feel the need to go back to school, to make myself into something I’m not, to get paid in a job that I’m not qualified for, ok?! No. It’s not ok. I’m not ok with it!!! I’m pissed that I decided to chase a dream that didn’t pan out, and didn’t fulfill me, because I found out too late, that I didn’t invest fully, in believing in myself. I listened to what everyone else thought about me, and I swallowed it. I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere, because I felt like I wasn’t accepted or liked. And that completely fucked me up. I’m still like that. And instead of caring about myself, and supporting myself internally, I changed my career, and spent our nest egg on being a designer for an exhibit that I couldn’t pull off for various reasons with help from my husband and a handful of others, trying to prove myself to people and the world at large that I was worth investing in, and that they themselves, were also worth investing in. I just have nothing to go back to... Sigh... It’s a longer story than war or peace...

Belushi, John: or this story you’re telling now...

Kari: Belushi, I’m not in the mood. I will string you up by your grubby lil toes and wave your ass all around Chicagoland because I don’t leave my city often, and display you in the next thanksgiving day parade here, on state street, next to the second bozo which isn’t too shabby but he’s no bob bell which he literally isn’t, and svengoolie, who should be in the parade, but isn’t! Ok?! So start with me again, poop bucket! I’m not in the mood to scoop your shit today, ok?! Yeahhh! And now on top of all that, I have to tend to you cause you’re a pain in my ass, I have to go back to school which I don’t have the dough or energy to do, I’m going to be over 50 before I can have enough credits and credentials so I can prove to society that I’m qualified to be a professional something or other, and I’ll be in the hole another hundred grand at least, and no, autocorrect, I’m not bitter, I’m sad, and lost, and aggravated, and done with all of this.

Belushi, John: pft... women...

Kari: I’ll give you women, ok? You take away the w in women and that’s what you’re gonna get from me in about 5 milliseconds ok? The Omen! Ok?! And not just because I have my lady time, ok?!!? Just start running now.. run for the Hollywood hills...

Belushi John: ha! The jokes on her, she’ll never go there...

Kari: I will go just to pin you up by your asscheeks, and go to verbally pummel the douche that made the “Jeff” meme go viral. But, my neighbor’s name is also Jeff. Do check out HIS good shit, cause he’s an amazing guitarist... just sayin... so shut your pie ass flap mouth butt jerk fach John Belushi head!

Belushi, John: No! Now wait a minute! Wait just a cotton pickin John candy corn minute...

John candy; No.

George: see Richie?! That’s why we can’t do this anymore... This shit is out of control.

Richard: ok, Kari, I get all of this, ok? I really do. Listen, we all got a good thing going here, ok? You’re like a man that looks like a woman, and you’re fun, and we can say our shit, and talk about the shit, and be the best of us without getting bashed by the critics, and no one gives a shit, ok?

Kari: But they do give a shit!!!

Richard: but do you?

Kari: I guess I do....

George: yeah, that’s what we’ve been working on thinking ourselves out of. Where have you been, Richie?!

Rick James: cocaine is a hell of a drug...

Richard: So let’s stay here and be cool, Kari, ok?! You’re as honest as fuck, ok? And that’s really honest. And we can work it out together, ok? And you won’t talk shit about bill Murray anymore cause Harold Ramis decided that he’s no fun anymore anyway.

Harold ramis: it’s true. Bill Murray is no fun anymore anyway.

(George turns back to Kari.)

George: Kari?

Kari: right. Scene.

George: no! Kari. You! Just fucking finally be ok, with you! You are also, this, in a way. And you know it. You’ve just never been brave enough to trust it, or let anyone see it! So bring it back around.

Kari: how the hell can I do that?! This shit went all over creation, ok?! I don’t know how to bring it back! We went from negative subconscious thoughts to not spending time with my son who’s taking to me about Cookie Monster and Swedish pancakes or something cause I’m half listening and not present writing you goofballs, to living with Oscar and Chong in oscars garbage can on Sesame Street, and then Richard wants to stay and yell about his sore dick without people being pissed about it, and Belushi, John wants to weed though dirty pics for the rest of my life....

John: I do, I really do...

Jackie mason: and Richard screams like a kid, that’s turns all shades of colors cause he’s pitching a fit, and she is a visibly labeled a white woman even though she doesn’t define or identify herself like that, but people don’t know where she’s coming from, so they potentially think she’s a racist and a lunatic cause they’ve never met her before, and she’s talking more shit than Steve Martin did as Navin r. Johnson in the jerk, and everyone accepted that shit, and she’s also talking like dead and live celebrities! They don’t know her from shit, or shineola, and yet they avoid her like she is shit, because of all of this! And Harold ramis called bill Murray a sad sack of potatoes the other day, and her only 2 points of reference to zets him are ghostbusters and meatballs! And she’s sick of it! Ok?! I’m done too! We all are! How many times can she talk about meatballs the movie in her life?! There’s a limit! And if there isn’t, there should be! And I’m even done with the meatballs, ok?! And that’s saying something! It is!!!! Cause I’m not Italian, but I normally love meatballs! And people are like, “why the hell is she talking about that movie meatballs? It’s 700 years old!” And moreover, most people are like, “what the hell is she talking about cause I’ve never even heard of the movie meatballs ever!!!” Ok?! So no! No to all of this!!!! And you don’t need an optigrab to see THAT! (Put the emphasis on the single syllable, THAT! Please read this stage direction out loud. Didn’t? Go back to the beginning of this scene, and do it all over again. Thank you- the management... read this part too... out loud. Yes.) oy. She’s a real nus pilke!

Kari: How the hell do I put a button on this nut ball scene?!

George: Kari, it’s breakfast time. Ok? So go eat.

Kari: righto.

Arthur Spooner: you owe the king of queens 7 zillion dollars and ten cents for the use of the word, “righto” as residual payment for quotes.

Kari: put it on my tab.

Steve Martin: ahhhhh yessss... your TAB.... (Steve paces around in silence for effect) You, mrs. Smartyshortlessbutyouareshortsoyes, owe me, the very abundant Steve Marin, THI-RTY big ones.... yes!!!! Thirty whole CENTS, for the shineola and optigrab reference, NOT to mention but I will because I always do, the use of the word tab, because I, Steve Martin alone, featured it in the jerk the movie, back in 1979, which I can’t remember, because I’ve been too obsessed with blue grasses for the last umpteen years! So yes, mrs. Keillornopantscausetheygowayupyournetherlandsnevertoreturnagain, I’m mad at you, a woman I don’t know about and have never met and don’t want to cause I’m a very busy and important star, yessss, and I hate you, even though all the aforementioned shit, and shineola, which I can say without crediting or paying myself, or I can’t, check said THAT! Not to mention that now I am a big time master class leader teacher, which puts me next in line to be the Pope of comedy not funny, erase it, no, and you are a grammatical mess, with your run on sentences and lack of proper punctuation...

John Cleese and Eric idly watching in agreement: quite.

John Cleese: I also teach a masters class in comedy.

Steve Martin: .... Which means yes to me, and yes to John Cleese, but no, to you, Kari keillor, for your ass talk. And if Carl Reiner was here, he’d say the same thing, only with a wink, and a gotcha!!!! Mr. serious Steve Martin, which I am, cause I forgot who was talking, so stick THAT in your pipe, and smoke it, lady!!!!

Joe Tex: 🥸🎶 He GOTCHA! 🎶

Kari: oh duck....

George: go now, before it gets worse.

Kari: ok, fine! I’ll put a button on this shit myself!!!! Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes are grrrrrrreat!

Tony the Tiger: you owe Kellogg’s 10 cents bitch...

John: man, that tiger is an assss!

George: listen Kari, feeling grrrrreat is a bit too lofty of an energy from where your at right now in this scene to be able to maintain it. Try for a bran cereal. That’s the next best energy for your mood, and it’ll help you to eliminate this shit.

Kari: ok. Plop, plop, fizz fizz oh what a relief it is...

George: close enough.

Scene.

P.S. I do love ALL my ladies of comedy. Yes, all... including the men.

This monologue/scene, is written by me, and for no one but me. I’m pretty sure it will now ensure my demise in the entertainment industry, and most likely go down, as the worst piece of shit, ever written. I will now go, and search the want ads, and forget all about this.... hopefully.

Appendices: I found 2 potential job leads. Fingers crossed 🤞....

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