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speedypandaweasel · 4 years ago

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One Big Adventure - a Wilford Warfstache and Abe story (Non-Ship) (2,914 Words)

Thank you for the request @canceltheact! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

If you would like to submit a request, see the information at the Masterlist and submit through the Q and A!

PSA - THIS IS NOT A SHIP oke, let us begin...

Dazed images fog up the minds of two *very* hungover men as they stagger their way up to the apartment. Abe fumbles his way through the door and over strewn clothes. He continues on and manages to put together the kaleidoscope of scenery that is right in front of him. To his left, a saggy sofa sits and a cheap TV dangerously hangs off the stripping wallpaper by a thread. To his right, a grimy kitchen is on display which even the worst chef in the world wouldn't waste his time in. The other man, however, is blabbering away, slurring his words like a car on an icy motorway. "HA!, I tell *hick* you Abe, I'm so glad I remembered you, you see *hick*, I can't even remember where I put my-" Aaaand he's gone. His body moulds into the cushions that poorly support his droopy frame, and his scuffed platform boots dangle over the side. Abe smiles, slightly soberer than before. Who would have thought that this stock still of a man, whose only aesthetics were the colour beige and veterans, would somehow have a goofy, lighter side to him? All the criminals he's met and caught among the years...

Hold up, has he met anyone? He can't remember any experiences where he HAS met any, so why did he think that? Hm, must be the Tequila talking. Abe hopscotches over the empty Wine and Martini bottles that are decorated across the stained carpet. Damm, William has not been taking care of himself. Mind you, neither has he so he can't really say anything. He arrives into the walk-in kitchen and opens a dusty cupboard. His tired eyes only meet with shot and tumbler glasses.

How much does this Man drink!? Shuffling used plates and greasy cutlery out of the way, he fills a scotch glass with water. Dowsing the liquid felt like heaven. His exhausted physique felt like a body that's been stuck in the desert for a considerable amount of time and didn't know it needed water to survive. Oh, now he feels the headache coming on.

Reader, you know when water tastes funny? It's because your brain hasn't been receiving enough H20 because you've been drinking too many energy drinks. Yeah, that feeling is exactly what Abe is feeling right now. CONTINUING ON!

The scotch glass watches from the draining board whilst the Detective plays the quietest game of the floor is lava, whilst the moustached man is making much more noise. He manages to reach a corridor which he thinks leads towards the bedroom and tiptoes down the tight hall to find a vacant room. On the way, he passes another room. It was Barnum's. His mind was split in two, Does he go in? Or stay out? Through the crack in the door, the catastrophe has indeed spread into his sleeping quarters. A mountain of flamboyant disco clothes gathers dust in front of his Chester draws, the bed's not made and more liquor bottles are having a social gathering on top. Oh William, you may be a murderer, but you need to prioritise yourself. He takes a last look at his passed out flatmate down the hallway, before shutting the guest bedroom door. Grey. It's all he's met with. Much like his exterior. He slips his shoes off and starts to unbutton his off-white shirt. he runs a hand down his chest and over the scar. How the Hell did he survive that? He can't be bothered to go into it right now, he's too tired. He snuggles into bed and does the infamous cold bed dance.

You know the one.

Abe gets out of the tempting bed once more and walks back into the living room. He creeps over to William, the man's mouth catching flies. He carefully takes his enormous shoes off and places them on the floor. Barnum's mismatch socks disappear underneath the blanket. "Night William."

~ A gorgeous smell of Breakfast wanders its way through the apartment and Abe groggily wakes up. His eyes peel open and with a yawn, he trudges through to the living room. Remembering from earlier this morning, he needed to position himself for his dance routine around the non-existent floor. "What are you doing my main man?" Barnum brightly asks, a hearty chuckle accompanies the question. Resided in the pristine kitchen, his big, strong hand holds a Skillet and two China plates are centred on the pebble grey marble island. Abe, however, is currently squatting as though he was playing a game of leapfrog with some imaginary friends. The Detective goes to jump but then is taken back at the sight. The apartment is now spick and span, no more Wine Bottles, no more strewn clothes. The windows are tied wide open and it overlooks the sketchy neighbourhood that they reside in. "How did you do this?" "Do what?" "You know, clean up this quickly?" Barnum checks his watch. It's 7:30 am "Oh well you see, I ironed a nice pair of jeans and found a lovely dandelion coloured shirt. Accompanied by some rainbow braces I think I look quite dashing don't you think so?" "No William, I-I mean the Apartm-AAH!" Abe clings his hand over his head, damm this- "Headache is killing you?" William slides a glass of water over with an Aspirin pill. "And no, I didn't clean the apartment, she did." Wilford looks- wait, why are you looking at me!? "Anywho, we need to get going my slightly hungover companion! But first, breakfast!" Wilford sets a serving plate down of a full English Breakfast: Sausage, an Egg, two cooked Tomatoes, Bacon rashes, Baked Beans and a slice of Buttered Toast. Wow. He didn't know William could cook? The two men got stuck in right away and the TV is turned on. Two bright and very similar faces appear on the screen "Badgers the secret Killer?... And now for the weather, Jim?"

The camera pans to, what they believe, is Jim. Their face resembles a deer in headlights. "I swear, they don't know what they're doing. It's hilarious!" The Detective says with a mouthful of Toast. Barnum laughs, wipes his mouth with a napkin and takes a swig of his Orange juice. "Right! I mean, who is their boss anyway?!" The men eat and laugh their way through their plates talking about what topics they would cover if they were reporters. After a while, they both recline back into their bar stools and the cook starts to tidy up the dirty dishes. "Oh, no, let me do it. It's the least I can do." "You're alright my man, I've got this. Besides, you need to freshen up!" "But whe-'" "First door on your left"

They share a light chuckle. "Thanks Wilford, I really appreciated that," Abe says before going back down the hallway, whilst Wilford rolls his sleeves up and starts to clean the less-silver cutlery.

He smiles. That's the first time he's ever said that to him. "No problem Abe."

The passenger door slams shut on the Detective's Vintage SUV and Wiford pulls out a gigantic map from his pocket. This map includes hundreds of paths scrawled with crayons and a hint of Martini can be smelt.

"Are you sure, you know where you're going?" Abe questions. Judging by what that map reads, they are going to get lost very easily.

"Of course I know where I'm going! I am Wilford Motherloving Warftsache after all." A pang of guilt hits the Detective, he genuinely can't remember who he was.

"Ok, Wil, you can drive."

After playing at least 3 rounds of rock paper scissors, or when Wilford won, Abe hesitantly let the murderer drive. God knows where though.

Wilford excitedly thrust the keys into the ignition. He couldn't wait for what the day entailed!

"Careful Willford, you're gonna break the keys!" Abe says through gritted teeth.

"Oh pah-lease! I know how to drive" he retaliates. His brown boot floors the pedal and reverses straight into the iron fence.

"Yep, it's working."

The Detectives face, now pale, grips tighter onto his seatbelt and his feet are glued to the floor. "Wil, of course it's working. Now, step on the ga- nope, that's the brakes Wilford."

Pedestrians quiver in fear as they see a horribly driven brown vehicle screech to a stop and then start again. They have to clamp down on their ears as the monster of a car drives past them down the alleyway, swerving left and right much like the driver's speech the other night.

The SUV survives to the end of the road and dents a stop sign perched, well once, straight on the kerb.

"Will, which route are we taking?" Abe asks as he takes the map from the driver's hands.

"It's the one marked Highway of Life, it's gonna be a good one, trust you me."

"Well, this has got off to a surprising start so why not go for an adventure?" Abe says. He's given up at this point.

"LIFE IS A HIIIGHHWWAYY! I WWAAANNNA RRIIDDEE IIT ALLL NIIGGHTT LOOOOONNGG!" The two pop stars start belting out of the car as Wilford drives them to their last stop. Who would have thought that two polar opposites positions of the law would be in the same car together, let alone blasting Disney songs out of the car.

Wilford's hair whips away from his face as the SUV's top winds down.

"LIFE NEEDS A BIT OF MADNESS EH ABE?"

"HELL YEAH IT DOES"

The Afternoon sun blazes down onto their blacked-out sunglasses and the Golden Gate bridge paints a picture for the Detective that prescribes him with a carefree attitude.

Life was his to choose and he was here for it.

The SUV turns off the Highway onto Richmond Street. The Afternoon sun glowing dimmer.

Just in time.

Now reader, if you haven't read my WKM Tumblr Song series, then you won't understand this next section.

The SUV passes bountiful shrubberies and picket fences. Cherry Blossom dust drift its way into the car and Wilford starts to tear up.

"You ok Buddy?"

"Yeah, I'm ok." After all his years of interrogation, Abe knows that that answer was a lie. Yet, he didn't want to push it.

The car comes to a halt and is parked underneath a summer coated oak tree.

"Why'd we stop?"

"I want to show you something."

Abe opens the vintage door and steps out. In front of him, wildflowers and grass sway on the cliffs breeze and small pink flowers grow on its edge. Overhead, a sea glistens with sunlight rays and pink and amber hues dust the sky.

Man, this is enough to make a grown man cry.

The cars driver door can be heard shutting and a shadow walks up behind him. An intimate silence roots itself between the two men.

"You may be wondering why I brought you here."

Abe nods, still looking forward, yet intriguingly listening.

The man sighs, "I used to come here all the time as a young lad. We used to have picnics and dance until dawn. We were so free up here. Away from life, away from Duty, and she was away from Him, that was all that mattered. "

His voice breaks.

"But things change, people change and suddenly, I couldn't do that anymore.

That's why I want you to see it."

Wilford wanders over to their spot and picks up one of the pink flowers sprouting through the grass.

"You may have thought of us as the scum of the Earth Detective. But there are two sides to every story."

The Detective joins the Murderer and puts a hand on his shoulder.

Wilford chuckles. The last time he was here, he was completely and utterly alone. He was like- like a freshly born fawn still trying to find his legs into this world that didn't make sense.

But now...but now things are looking a little brighter.

"If there is anything I can do to make it up to you, just name it."

"You can't do anything really, it's just the way this messed up world works."

The two friends sit down in the grass, making fresh new imprints into the cliff edge, next to two fading ones.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Sure" "How many people have I killed?"

...

That question lingers in the air for an uncomfortably long time. All that can be heard are the lapping of the waves below them and the occasional swallow talking in the trees.

...

"I don- don't know Wilford," Abe breaks the silence, "I should know, but I-I don't.

...

Abe looks at Wilford, his broken and tear-stained eyes manage to glance back before returning to look out at the sunset.

Abe must do something here. But what? He said himself that nothing can be done so what can he do?

He reminisces on the day they were reunited. So much anger, so much confusion. But Wil was so cheerful, not a care in the world!

Now look at him.

And it was all his fault. If only he didn't get involved...

A second flashes by and Abe does something he should have done the second Will did it.

He hugs Him.

...

"I'm sorry Will."

...

Moments cling on for seems like forever and the embrace is broken. The two tear-stained friends look up.

The afternoon sun has now gone beneath the horizon and is replaced with the all too familiar twilight scenery, which glows softly for miles and miles, each star a lantern that has been entrusted with keeping something special.

"There was another reason why I wanted to bring you here."

Wilford wipes his eyes with his sleeve. "Do you see that star, the big one?"

"Yeah" "That's the Evening Star. That Star is the reason why I have hope. And now I want to share that hope with you. I know we got off the wrong foot but since we're in the same boat now, I think it's time I opened up about where I've actually been."

Abe swallows, this man is truly broken, and he can't do anything about it.

"Thank you for trusting me." "We're not done yet. It's your turn!" "What?" "Make a wish." Cautiously, the Detective slowly stands up from his permanent grassy imprint and walks towards the cliff's edge. The man looks around and sees only patches of shrubbery and wildflowers.

And his newfound friend encouraging him to proceed.

He clasps his hands together and wishes hard. His eyes scrunch together as he becomes a child once more as well. His once tight shoulders have finally become relaxed. After so many years of searching for answers, he doesn't need to worry any more.

A single tear is swept away from the Murderers face as he watches on from the patch of grass. He remembers that feeling and the dream he wished for all those years ago. Yet now, his wish is slowly changing.

Granted, he can't remember who he was but bully does he know what he wants to be. And being here for him, at this very moment, is a wonderful way to start it.

Abe's hands fall to his side and he stares out onto the ever stretching view. His feet are glued to the spot and his mind is only fixated on that one goal. Wilford slowly joins his side, already having a hunch on what he dearly wants.

"What did you wish for?" The Murderer asks.

The Detective huckles, "Now if I told you, it wouldn't come true, would it?"

"Very true my friend."

Little did the men know that their newly found wishes were the same.

"Don't you mean, Best Friend?"

CRACK

The heartwarming moment is abruptly stopped by the sky blasting wide open and millions of sounds exploding across the cliff. The light breeze has rapidly sped up into a storm and is propelling thick gusts upon the two.

"WHAT THE BLOODY HELL NOW!?" Wilford yells at the hole, completely unfazed.

"YOU KNOW WHAT THIS IS!?" Abe yells at his Friend.

"OF COURSE I DO, IT'S TIME FOR WORK."

"WORK!? SINCE WHEN DO YOU HAVE A JOB!?"

"WE ALL HAVE A JOB - WE'RE ACTORS! I'LL EXPLAIN EVERYTHING IF WE DON'T GET SPLIT UP."

"IF WE DONT GET SPLIT UP!? WHERE ARE WE GOING!?" "I HAVE NO IDEA! BUT THAT'S THE FUN OF IT! AFTER THREE, WE WALK IN."

"ARE YOU CRAZY WE'RE GONNA FALL!"

"TRUST ME, WE WON'T."

Wilford grabs Abe's hand and he stares at him. Abe stares back, fear-stricken. Finally, he nods.

"TOGETHER?" "TOGETHER."

"ONE"

"TWO"

"THREE!!!!" The two Actors charge straight over the cliff and into the blinding light.

Wilford finds himself in some kind of leather chair with neon lights surrounding him. A script in one and his prop gun in his other.

No pants on, no wonder he feels too comfortable.

He scans his scene and sees his co-actor, Kathryn, running her lines on the other side of the room.

A chair sits opposite him and behind that, a red T-30 minutes until showtime sign is displayed for him.

Abe, however, isn't needed on set yet. His adventure hasn't begun.

But both of their characters will have to cross at one point or another, it's just a matter of time. Yet for a fact, no one can edit their Friendship; Their Joint Wish.

Because, as they say, Life is a road that you're travelling on, when there's one day here, and the next day gone.

#wilford warfstache #abe the detective #wkm #who killed markiplier #tumblr songs #markiplier #story #william j barnum #markiplier egos

30 notes · View notes

dansedan · 4 years ago

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I threatened on the Disco Writer’s Nook server to share my notes from this latest fic, but since they’re wildly incomprehensible and kind of silly I thought maybe I’ll just... chuck ‘em on here instead, under a readmore where they can pass by easier so uhhh xX WeLcOmE To My TwIsTeD mInDXx !!!1!!

(warning for LONG LONG post- I write full sections and asides from the universe that aren’t even in the damn fic within the same notes document a lot... I’m also insufferably pretentious on notes I KNOW and I cull it on the final as much as I can, as well as mild possible spoilers for a fic I haven’t written in the same au-timeline-thing I suppose and NSFT stuff)

(also a lot of this gets discarded because it’s so stupid and I write it at terrible brain moments)

"Por la mañana me di a la estúpida tarea de esconder mis cigarros por los rincones de la casa. Los encuentro, claro, pero fumo poco, fumo menos, hago esfuerzos por mejorarme de una vez."

meditative cigarettes and quitting fic.

Harry smokes less than he drinks, because he smokes to keep sharp and he usually wants to be numb, down to zero, space-based. but after going tee-total and opening up on his quest to actual-human-persondom he finds himself chainsmoking constantly. A concern in his volition is raised, a thought project ruminated on, and strategems laid out.

Harry grasps at the first half at a low point in his attempts to get better without anyone knowing or helping. He wonders about Kim's life, Kim's control. The electrochemistry in him fantasizes about a free-wheeling party-boy sort of Kim, still cool, still quiet, but free and soft and in control of his lack of control- the aviator, the flying ace, at the mercy of the elements and gliding by by choice- lands on the question of the one-per day, the Kim he knows, who takes what he needs with trepidation and preparation.

The truth is that last one- Kim was a social smoker, an after-dinner-if-the-date-is-pleasant smoker, an after-sex smoker, a bumming-cigarettes-to-gague-his-interest smoker (it all started with a boyfriend) but police work and his neverending stint in Juvie drove him to once-per-day, a creature of obsession. He used to heavily resent it- until Harry came along and joined the ritual.

"bebiendo mate con el ademán gracioso de los novatos. Es lo que hago ahora cuando siento ganas de fumar, dijo, con una sonrisa."

Kim and Harry not so close together- the idea of Kim and Harry not knowing everything about each other, because that's just not how you survive, but somehow Kim aching to be up-to-date on Harry all the time.

Harry and his funny little excursions around town. Kim visits and finds cigarettes hidden around the house, smells them in fear of finding drugs, or Harry has to awkwardly shuffle around for one when Kim invites him to smoke. Harry tries to join a book club, starts cooking lofty meals for his yoga class, tries being vegan for a week, checks out a bunch of books on the history of the Coupris Corp (SUZERAINTY ERA MARK OF AUTHENTICITY BABEY) as a way to help him wean off substances but also off Kim. They want each other but they know they need to stand on their own </3

Harry starts going to this novelty/gourmet supermarket and buying one new thing every paycheck like furikake that says it has lead on it and mate and all that. He spends his ex-drinking, smoking money on it.

Harry makes Kim huevos rotos :'-)

You're barely holding it together- how the hell did you get to this newsstand? Is it a newsstand? This structure- round, metal, iron-wrought frame and squat stature- was once a newsstand. How do you know it isn't? What is it now? You feel yourself point someplace on a menu you can't see past the dew of heavy crying- the clerk does not react, he's seen you like this- slam your wallet on the counter. You receive a paper parcel slightly larger than your fist, long. It's warm through the paper, and you can feel the dryness of a light dusting of flour passing through it. Food.

Your legs and arms are moving on their own again, wallet shoved this way, steps stumbled past the other, clumsily bringing whatever it is to your mouth and feeling crumbs fall into your beard- like a shark. That's one of the first things you remember, the beautiful old ultraliberal woman, like a shark, on her boat. The joy of your first- no, second- idiom. The first was up on Marvel Hill where you can't live. Kim said that. Kim's gonna be there, when you do it like a shark and don't stop any of this on your way to work and you stop crying so nobody thinks you did what you're avoiding doing. Is there anyway you can forget the frittte? There's so many locations in your mind, what kind of man are you, remembering the placement of a store that's meant to vanish and appear out of convenience like it's a fucking pitstop (would a flask not be enough? A single habit to get rid of, easy- but you're never easy).

You feel dark-dark-light-darkness and then light again, and smoother flooring and your coat being too warm. You're at the precinct- fuck, you're at the precinct- and it's late, real late, but you are here and there's too many people to fuck up here and at least you aren't crying. Your red face and eyes blend perfectly into too many years and days of red and puffy eyes to call attention. Perfect, perfect- god bless the innocence (or is innocence god? You can't forget- Remember- something.)

"You're late, shitkid." At some point Jean appears beside you. He's walked the other way and stopped- he's grimacing- but more importantly you see his left arm raise and still and clench itself, like a restricted movement, natural instinct. "You smell like shit- is that fish?" You do not know if that is fish because your throat hurts so bad already that you cannot know if you've been swallowing bones for this past hour (minute? Minutes? The walk feels like forever and never enough. You're swearing like a pig now that you're standing, how adequate.)

You want to say it's agony, the end of days, the end of you- you want to say reprise, and sorry, and oh god I didn't want to see you please I don't deserve it Jean please leave and go away from me and also please oh god please hold me up I don't know what I'm doing but I'm trying to be better but I ate this thing that might as well be sawdust and I do not know what time it's been for several days.

Instead you say "it's my GOD-GIVEN RIGHT, VIC" and you move along like a fucking idiot.

"An image arises in your mind's eye-- a baby, dirty, hideous, its skin mottled and raw and red, peeling, stretching almost impossibly. The baby cries from pain- in it's brief stay on this earth it has already suffered more than some men do in their entire lives. He is built for it- thick skin, quite literally. He is being held by a slight, pale, ugly nurse- a nun in bloodied white rags with a terrible smell of herbs permanently attached to her. The scene is a caricature of mother and child- the hideous thing, held up to her chest, is drinking from an amber bottle, clouded over. In ten years, the contents of this bottle he will be legally too young for-- is this the reason you became the way you are? Are you just born-and-bred this way, surviving off of alcohol where most people had blood and human kindness?

-- It's not. The little pastiche you've thought up for yourself is half propaganda and half racist idiocy. Despite what the supposed "race-realists" may say, not everyone from the Insulindian is thrown on the bottle the moment they're weaned from the tit. In truth, you were barely even medicated, and those bitter, herbaceous spirits are not the cause of your current addiction. It's still on you harry, it's always still on you.

"Wake up- time to listen to the radio.

You love the radio. You really, really love the radio. You think the radio was the greatest purchase you have ever made- drunk you was horrible, and traumatizing, and entirely undebatably subhuman, but he did buy this radio, and by god fuck if that isn't his saving grace (a story comes to mind- a Dolorean allegory from your childhood- about a selfish rich woman and a lazy cheating bum both ferried up to heaven by a single onion that she'd given him during their lives as charity. You choose to ignore the part where they fight and fall back into hellfire). It's the thing that broke you off from your mazovian monk-like refusal to buy anything for yourself other than flour for a week after THE HANGED MAN, it's what got you into cycling and hanging out with the neon eyebleed catsuits crew, it's what reminded you that public libraries exist and nobody will ask you why you're in there reading about suzerainty-era motor carriage manufacturing and the homo-sexual underground. It's the greatest thing since communism, since disco, since-- since-- since cigarettes and kebabs and- and--

... And idolizing someone to the point of crucifixion. Which you aren't supposed to be doing.

Good thing the radio cranks up real loud!

"You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography, even, notably, the single romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice, meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what books were, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years).

"Harry's apartment is no longer clean, but not as dirty as before, and its stalwart light-green walls seem, in the summer light, less queasy and foreboding than what they are now, almost dainty in the contrast of the sparse few frames and piles of knickknacks on the floor.

Believe it or not, this is good-- sometimes, life with Harry makes you feel like a zoologist, intricately analysing an animal's pile of leaves and refuse and knowing, despite all human standards, what these habits mean for the foreign species. And for Harry, mess like this is good. It means he's kept busy by any one of his million little projects, picked up and put down at a dizzying speed and constancy, each one increasingly out of left field in

Kim and harry talk about the radio, kim thinks about it "radio, what's new? Radio- some-one still loves you"

Harry talking abt agenda + library bc you can't smoke + planning for dinner with Kim :-)

Gotta go to the library so you don't chainsmoke

Gotta shower to go to the library

Don't wanna shower bc executive dysfunction

Grab a smoke before you shower

Oh wait you've been chain-smoking fuck (insert meditation on sharp vs smooth)

Hide all your cigarettes around the house feeling pathetic about it

You still don't feel like showering

But you just chainsmoked and you know you'll do it again because you JUST hid your smokes and the hiding spots are fresh in your mind

Birdbath (why are you so fucking dysfunctional that you can't shower like a normal adult)

Introspective rubber ducky selfhate momence

Rubber ducky encourages you through the power of nihilism and Kim

Thought project gain

Go to library and need comfort so you're going thru all your usual shelves (insert le funny homo shelf joke here)

What does he read about? Smoking? Idk

Kiiiiiim. Kimmy kim kim. Think about Kim

Maybe he reads recipe books to woo kim

INSERT EXISTENTIAL BROTH EPISODE HERE to talk about how you've never actually seen Kim cook (he told you it was good soup, clearly lying, you told him it was broth, and that you could teach him how to make soup out of it if he wanted...)

(broth episode was another note, inserted here:

ANOTHER harry coping fic. Miserable housebound weekend nights because he can't party but the house is horrible to be in and he keeps dunking his hands into more and more ice water and taking like half-body cold showers and he's like "maybe this is bad for my skin!!! I gotta get out holy shit" and he's like uhhhh fucking. Can't go to work. Let's go to the supermarket. And then he's almost there and he's like OH FUCK NO THERES ALCOHOL AT THE SUPERMARKET and he straight up bolts out of there and muscle memory gets him to a shady ass butcher shop in some random immigrant neighborhood and he buys so much fish because of a failed check and he goes home and basically he makes so much fish stock. He makes just so fucking much fish stock and Kim comes to pick him up the next day and panics because it genuinely smells like the dead in there but it's just harry making fucking. fish broth or something. Just harry coming up to the door in his work clothes with way too much cologne on and a thermos of fish soup like "uh... Do you want some Broth kim?" And Kim can't fucking cook but he takes some Broth anyway and he's trying to figure out why harry would do that but harry is being a little edgy about it and Kim is like oh god I need to help him a little and they have a sit down about it and he's like wanting to say "hey if you need somewhere to go I'm here for you" but it's hard and I don't even know if he ends up actually saying it. Okay bye)

Talking about the sexiness of supermarkets and how they make reptile brain go brrr

Think about alcohol vs smoking. Think about kimmy kim kim (insert european drinking joke here)

Have that get stuck in his head. Kim kimmy kim kimmy kimmy kim kim. Kimster. Kimbo. Kitsy. Kitty. Cutie. Oh god no fuck oh god I need to stop.

He goes home and still rlly wants to smonk

You hide the cigarettes around the house. It feels stupid, and you know you’ll be embarrassed having to pull the Jamrock Shuffle in your own apartment, that you’re a grown adult who could just *buy another box of cigarettes* whenever you wanted to, but you feel like it helps. Drag the killing thing away from the crappy little animal even for a couple moments more, let yourself get tired out like the old man you are below all the disco scaffolding. You can’t really bring yourself to shower, but you drag the radio into the bathroom with you and wash yourself in the sink. You try to be good about it- stay away from the mirror, really lather up and clear away the sweat that’s caked to you throughout the night and morning, feel the warm graze of the water on your skin. You brush shampoo through your hair and work it in in cycles, focus on the humming feeling of the bristles on your scalp, trying not to think of much of anything, just the smell of the cheap powdery soap and of what clothes you’ll wear today, try to settle into a better memory of this instead of picking at the shame you feel about how hard it is for you. ducking your head into the stream of the water in the sink and forgetting everything except the whishing, scratching sounds of cleaning.

Being clean feels good, and being dressed again feels maybe even better (knit sweaters are a revelation- who could’ve known polyester satin wasn’t made for seaside winters), so by the time you walk your way into the Jamrock public library the morning’s incidents are nigh-forgotten. The dry warmth of the old library is a reliable balm- the yellowed fluorescent lighting washing out the rows and rows of slate-grey plastic bookshelves lined up like soldiers over prerevolutionary tile, with its woven edges and dark, jeweled pinwheels of color, stretching out endlessly full of books, reels, and the rare intricate portrait hanging overhead. Before them, long wooden tables dotted with mismatched lamps, flickering in and out of use, occupied by antsy juveniles and sleeping hobos. It feels effortlessly like home, like a shared worldly past that welcomes everybody- and maybe that just means that it's generic and a little overdue for renovations, but you love it as it is.

Shuffling through the tall shelves of books, you weave through mindlessly to find your favorite sections- the history (both common and infra-cultural, with a surprisingly competent collection of industrial works and a predictably miserablly little shelf of homo-sexual underground interest), the art, and the meager offerings of political literature. You can hear your off-tune humming echo back to you somewhat feebly off the high, painted ceiling, done up in some lame facsimile of early Dolorian excess (therriers, noblewomen, forget-me-nots crowding the edges of each filligreed panel, dead-eyed faces in doleful expressions, pale and empty smiling). You've got all of daylight ahead of you, which is more than enough time to browse around as usual before you have to get yourself home and start cooking.

You turn the corner smoothly into the very back of the library, into a wider set of dusty and anachronistic wooden bookshelves-- history trends unpopular, considering the fact that all the books within are horrifyngly outdated due to a miserable municipal budget, maybe that's for the best. There are better places for students to get this information now, like the private library a couple blocks away at the Cycle Universitee, or from library dial-stations tuned in from the south, where the Bibliotheque Nacionelle Des Travailleures is run by Coalition-approved volunteers. The first thing to catch your eye is the pillar of works of infra-cultural expression and documentstion- essays and short stories from New authors, studies and zines on Disco, and of course, the particular political darling of the 20s, the homo-sexual underground.

You've read everything in this section- theory, history, photography- even, notably, the single commercial romance novel, comically bad, about a middle-aged Vespertine businessman travelling north to the harbour where he had experienced his first teenaged love-- and the young, strapping man he gets to know there. (There are boats involved- it's very biblical). All in all, you read it twice, meticulously rewrote its horrifyingly vague and unsafe sex scenes (in pen, inside. Not like the librarian's gonna check it) and masturbated at your efforts, winning you a very sore wrist and about 30 minutes of crying because you remembered being in a bookshop with Kim in Martinaise while you were remembering what the world was, and then remembered Jean's apartment having a secret stack of equally terrible heterosexual novels bequeathed to him by an ex that you made fun of him for (rabidly, for years). You shudder, now, at the sight of its cracked spine looking you from the middle sill. Its gaze feels hefty and judgemental, and you do not like it.

There are

KIM CHAPTAAAA

"you'd like him to take care of himself. You'd like to be there to do it for him when he can't"

"He opens the door, and immediately there are a million little things that test you (hell, with that thick-knit sweater he's wearing, any weakness in you would have him writhing on the floor in seconds). The half-up style of his now-so soft looking auburn hair, split across to reveal the pale white of his nape between the raised collar of his sweater, the kind wrinkling of his open smile upon seeing you walk in, the light, jazzy music of the radio backing his belly-deep laugh and the heady smell of incense in the room are all exhilaratingly Harry to you.

What to do with jean:Standalone fic for him?

Starts when he sees Harry with the eyebleed crew and he's the one who goes up to him like "WHAT IN THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING SHIT KID" and harry is like. Oh god oh fuck jean uh let's be... Cordial! Optimistic! (What jean sees is one of his signature pauses but like. Yeah it's the skills talking) and he's just like "oh it helps me stay sober and make friends, I found out about it on the radio🙂" and Jean is like holy fucking shit this is absolutely insane.

1) bc Harry used to be so repressed he was basically homophobic with his macho act

2)bc Jean originally didn't believe the amnesia thing but then when Harry genuinely did shit like this and never told him (which, if it was a cruel joke he would've tried to make it very public and obvious and drag jean into it to embarrass him)

3) because JEAN was his friend and why the fuck does he just. Run off with random people with a radio ad instead

4) because he's doing so well. He's like, fully at the sort of "this-side-of-pudgy" bear level that's hot enough to get him positive attention over the damage of the alcohol and he's wearing the sort of clothes that show it and he's got all these crew buddies where Jean is stuck with his hellish depression workouts where he sometimes works until he pukes and then feels like shit about self-harming like that. (what he doesn't know is that Harry is basically doing that same exact shit just he's using his swag alcoholic skills to lieeeeee about it. rip)

Maybe harry apologizes in their conversation about the romance novels. Like it blurts out.

eventually add in the previous consideration fic you were thinking of &quot

starting with bitter porno kimbo/viccy catfight bullshit

"no that's pathetic and he'd never go there." dynamic where kim cares quietly and jean is bitchy about Harry

then "no, he's dealt with harry so much already, I can't imagine." so it's all concern for him

and then that backslides into "how could I comfort him? how could he understand my need for comfort? "

we stan a mildly nonaccepted himself Jean so he's like "WAIT UH GAY THOUGHTS ABOUT THIS GUY TOO? FUCK FUCK FUCK"

gotta make it panic horny. it's a Dan Gat fic. how would kim look.... yknow......

since the only other guy who's been like that with him has been harry -> third wheel dynamic going to ->

horny ot3 dynamic. old men doting on him because it's his fantasy and he gets to be the pampered one goddamnit

end somehow

THIS IS THE EXACT DYNAMIC WE'RE GOING FOR Jean liked Harry premart and Harry was unbearably machismo repressed homophobic bullshitero man (I need to decide if he was stupid enough to be like AS LONG AS IM ON TOP IT ISNT GAYYYY or smth sex/intimacy related like that maybe he just kinda. ""comically"" hit on Jean or said suggestive shit to him but never fully acted on it) and then he comes back from Martinaise all loyal puppy dog or whatever for Kim and Jean is like "??? OKAY SO I GO THROUGH ALL THIS BULLSHIT AND HE TALKS SO BIG ABOUT LOVING MUSCLE DUDES AND NOW HES GONNA FUCK THIS GRANDPA?" but then he's like self-aware enough to know that's stupid.(Jean's problem is that he looks for wounds on Kim and not Harry, so he's all like "damn this bitch stole my mans when he's actually good...." meanwhile Harry is like Very Obviously Self Harming All The Time and not even really with Kim so often rip)

Harry wants to reach out and ask him about his thing with Kim because he has memories of Jean either being gay or being less homophobic or just having Gay Energy that he was an asshole about or whatever plus it just feels natural to work through shit with Jean but he stops himself because he's like "well DRINKING also felt natural that doesn't mean we should do it..."

maybe they get into it because Jean makes an offhand comment about "stop ogling kim" and harry is like (computer warmup noises) and jean just kinda forces him to spit it out RE: meme description

Harry's whole deal with avoiding Jean is "some things are unforgivable and I'm fairly sure I've done things bordering on that to you for so, so long, and now I don't even know what they were or who I was when I did them, to me that person is dead, and I know then that I can't apologize to you thoroughly, genuinely, and I don't want to insult you by presuming that I ever could, at this point. I don't want to insult you by assuming I can just go back to what we were before, to each other, without an apology or an actual understanding of what went wrong. I can't speak for certain about his mind-my mind- but at least in some part that guy killed himself because of what he did to you, and to everyone around him, sure, but mostly to you. And now I'm here, and it feels horrible to try and go against that and push myself into your life. It feels horrible to see I've done something to you worth killing myself over and then still insist on coming back to bother you beyond the grave"

And Jean's response is "you thought everything was bad enough to kill yourself over! And you're still alive, you're still him, and fuck, yes it'll take a long ass fucking time for me to ever really forgive you, but you were my best friend and you're still fucking alive- I see you every single day, Harry, do you know what that's like? To see your best fucking friend every single day and watch him flinch and try to act like he doesn't exist every single time he sees you? Fuck you and fuck what you wanted before, *I* never wanted you dead, and your little stunt here with pretending you're finally fine and then keeping everyone at an arm's distance is just another, slower grave you're digging" etc etc "if this is the upswing at last, I’d better be there for it.**”

Jean is a frat boy that you do not expect to be a frat boy. He unironically gets along with mack and chester. He's only just started to grow out of it through dealing with Harry's horrible downfall

sequel to geste drole des debutantes but it's just a 3 chapter PWP masturbation fic..... of Kim and Harry after the dinner and then SHOOKETH SURPRISE IT'S JEANGST YEARNING TIME!

Kim trans.... Good for him...

Stroker shit

He wants to fuck Harry basically

...slow tease? Or fast and desperate?

Dry kissing

Hair pulling...

Youre hard, and you're wet, and you can't help but think of that smile on his face as you left and you want him to taste it, to get on his knees for what he's done to you and swallow it all down, feels the soft brush of his beard on your thighs.

Harry also trans... Good for them good for them...

Handkink shit

Wants kim to absolutely wreck his shit

... He's new at this

Slow....

Jean

Jeangst

Want to wreck harry's shit... Mouthfuck stuff maybe

Power bottoming?? Idk

Whoops my hardcore dom revenge fantasy has slipped into a getting bossed around by the guy I thought I disliked for taking away my partner UHH.... LETS NOT UNPACK THAT....

Some idiot makes like a homophobic stupid "ah the fucking lieutants off scissoring or something" comment and then jean is like "oh god what if that but sexual instead"

Gym shower...

Jean has a big dick too bad bitch

When harry du bois ruined his life, thinks satelitte-officer Jean Vicquemare- he might at least have had the decency not to also curse his dick. This shit was weekly and only getting worse, now that the shitkid didn't constantly smell like despair and carrion had scored a threesome with a bartender's manual.

#my writing #in a way!#my fic #long post

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crutchie-with-a-y · 6 years ago

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The Best Shoes In the World -Modern Newsies

So this is like younger Romeo? Maybe eight or nine? Hope you enjoy!

“Oh for fucks sake Romeo.” Race slammed his hand against the rack of shoes he was leaning against. The boys had been at Payless for hours looking for shoes for their little Romeo. Since he had recently been bouncing between foster homes, Katherine had offered to buy him a new pair of sneakers when she realized his current ones were much too small and littered with holes. Naturally, all his brothers had come with them. They had arrived at the mall at around four, and as it was nearing eight, everyone was grumpy, hungry, and a pretty frustrated with Romeo, who had painstaikingly tried on every shoe in the kids section, even asking someone to ask the cashier to check for certain ones in his size if he couldn’t find them, only to stack each box of tried shoes in a pile that stretched across the laps of his brothers and over many benches.

Romeo looked up with innocent but guilty eyes at the rest of the kids, sliding off a pair of bright green Converses and putting them back in their box.

“What?” he said, tilting his head. Specs let out an exasperated sigh and pushed up his glasses to rub his eyes while Races eyes grew wide. Before he could explode, Davey clamped his hand over his mouth and looked at Romeo and then back at Race.

“It’s just taking a while for you to chose.” He said, glaring at the exasperated blonde who then licked his hand causing him to whip it off of his mouth wipe it on his pants.

“What the hell, Race!” Davey exclaimed, Race rolling his eyes with pride.

“Are you guys sesrious?” Katherine strolled calmly down the aisle toward the group carrying a tray of drinks and her purse, closely followed by Jack, who carried two more trays of drinks and a large bag.

“And where in the hell have you been?” Mush asked from his spot on the floor, where he sat leaning back on his hands with his legs spread around several shoe boxes.

“Getting food for you whiny babies.” Jack said, looking at his boys like a general embarassed by his troops. “Stop complaining, Kath’s bought y’all Auntie Anne’s.” The boys perked up. Katherine held her tray up high and flicked her leg into a cheesy pose.

“Lemonade and soft pretzels anyone?” The boys scrambled up to swarm around Jack as he passed out the treats. Katherine set her tray down, grabbing a straw and lemonade to sit down and hand to Romeo, who sat slouched and alone on the floor, still surrounded by boxes.

“Alright, Little Guy,” Katherine said as Romeo pounded the straw on the multicolored carpet to get it out of the wrapper. “Are there any shoes that you like?” Romeo looked around as Katherine slipped the straw from his fingers and pushed it out of the wrapper for him and into the cup. He slurped it loudly, looking up at her with big eyes.

“I’m not sure,” He said, shrugging.

“Well, Romees,” Jack squatted down on the oppiste side of him from Katherine. “You’ve looked at pretty much all they got.”

“And then some.” Race called from the bench where he sat with a large pretzel, soon followed by many slaps and slugs from the other older boys.

“It’s an important decision!” Romeo said adorably deffensively.

“Oh it is now?” JoJo chuckled with love.

“Yes!” Romeo nodded eagerly. “I have never been shoe shopping before! And so I better make my first trip worth it! And I can’t say that I bought some dinky ol’ crocs the first time I get shoes from a box instead of a grocery bag of smelly sketchers.They have to be the best shoes...in the WORLD!”

“Excuse me?” Albert sounded offended. He kicked up his white crocks paired with gray sweater socks with moose on them and slammed them on the bench next to Specs. “I’m sorry but THIS,” He said, waving is hand theatrically arounnd his footwear, “Is fashion.”

Everyone laughed, but the groups heart still sank at Romeos words. The boys explanation was sad, but he did deserve the world’s best shoes. Crutchie walked over to him and leaned down to ruffle his hair.

“You’re right! We gotta find you the single best pair of shoes ever created! So why don’t we go through what we have so far and narrow them down to a top say, five?” He said, looking to all the boys and enlisting their help through eye contact. Suddenly a staff member with messy red hair and tired eyes covered expertly in glittery blue eye shadow leaned into the aisle.

“We’re closing in fifteen.” Romeo looked to Crutchie with terrifyed eyes, as if the the world would end if he didin’t chose in time.

“Aaaaaaaaand we gotta do it quick!” Crutchie stood up and pointed at one stack of boxes. “Alright, Buttons get that stack! Race and Sniper I want you on that one in the back. Uhh, Tommy Boy take that one next to you and ummm Elmer...RACE STOP SCALING THE RACK IT’S GONNA FALL OVER! Ok, Elmer and Jojo you’re manning the ones on that bench...” Crutchie continued to assign stacks and the boys darted to their territory.

“Ok so what’s our criteria, Romeo?” Spot asked from the bench he had commandeared with Henry. “You want bright colors, dark colors-”

“Bright colors.” Romeo responded. He grinned. “They make me happy.” The brothers continued, hollering questions down the aisle and holding up shoes for Romeo to veto or approve to move up to final selection.

“Na,”

“Oh no.”

“I guess those are okay...”

“No those are the same color of that one shirt Davey has with the mice. Gross”

“OooOOh shiny!”

“I like the curly laces.”

“Those are on clearance for a reason, Les.”

“SEQUINS!!!”

An exhaustive ten minutes later saw Romeo on his knees staring at seven shoe boxes propped against a bench while the others sat panting or teetering on their tippy-toes to put boxes back.

“Okay, Romeo,” Jack said from behind small boy, leaning against the rack and biting his straw. “What’s it gonna be?”

“I’d like to personally cast a vote for the ones with spot...ssss.” Race tapped a box with the side of his cup. Romeo squinted at him.

“You only like them because they remind you of Spot! I didn’t even say I liked those!” Race scoffed and pushed the box back onto the rack behind him. The rest of the guys rolled their eyes while Spot licked his lips.

“Well clearly you have to chose the red ones.” Albert pointed with his toe. “Wouldn’t you liked to be reminded of meeeeeeee?” He flashed a dazzling smile and fluffed his own hair.

“Bitch please.” Finch kicked another box. “These LIGHT. UP.” Colorful lights flashed around the tissue paper in the box has the boys continued to argue over which shoes Romeo should pick.

“You can’t possibly choose these.” Henry picked up one box like a dirty sock he found under a bed. “It’d be like having a disco ball duck taped to your feet everyday.”

“And your point is?” JoJo raise a judgemental eyebrow. The arguing continued for awhile before Mush interupted.

“Holy crap, Jack.” He held up his phone for the group to see. It was open to Jack’s instagram and showed his latest post, that of a stunning painting. “That’s like...woah.” The others flocked around the phone while Jack rubbed the back of his neck bashfully. Romeo, however, was drawn to something else he saw down the aisle. He pulled a box from the shelf and headed back to the group. He stood behind his gawking brothers for a moment before piping up.

“I picked my shoes!” The friends almost got whiplash from turning to look so fast. They staired with open jaws at the shoes for a minute before someone managed to form words.

“Well, ah, nice choice.” Crutchie swallowed, blinking quickly. The others did not hide their exasperation as well.

“Are you fucking me? Romeo we've been here for four and a half hours for those?”

“It took you this long. To pick. Those.”

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“I’ve been sitting on this cold-ass bench for four hours waiting for those?”

“I coulda got those on Prime and had them on your feet in a sixteenth of the time we’ve been here.”

“I just don’t understand why it took so damn long to pick-”

“WHITE VANS?”

Romeo huddled against the rack behind him.

“I wanted Jack to paint them.” He peeped. He walked sheepishly over to his artistcly inclined brother and held up the plain shoes while lookingly at him with giddy eyes. “Do you think you could paint somethin’ on these shoes, Jack? Please? Like...” He looked around him. “Like a picture of all of us! Together! On the...on here!” He pointed. Everyone in the aisle and even the eavesdropping cashiers who’d been waiting for these customers for many annoying hours melted at the little boy’s request. But nobody was more touched than Jack.

“Why, of course I can paint those shoes for you, Romeo.” He wrapped his arm around the little boy and whispered, “We’re gonna make those the best shoes in the world.”

Hope you enjoyed! Just a fun lil fic cuz i was bored! Have a nice day! <3

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camigani · 7 years ago

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Update: My Trip to China

Hi, all, it’s been an insane couple of months! Where have I been and why haven’t I been updating? Well, I’ve finally moved in a completely new place all by myself with a new job and lots of pleasant isolation in a tiny town by the sea. Right before that, my family took me overseas to China for a final family trip. I only got food poisoning twice. Oh, and I caught a cold. -v-

LONG POST UNDER THE CUT!!

Things I noticed that generally happen in China:

1) There are a lot of couples! Compared to Japan and Taiwan, I noticed the people here are more open about traveling and showing affection (and discourse) publicly. Where are the lonesome ones? Well, my brother deduced that because Chinese has so many people, the single people stay at home. TvT

2) Women like to cling onto arms or hold hands with their friends or lovers. My Shanghainese housemate was like this, too. I guess it’s a cultural thing.

3) Men tend to smoke, not women. You find women smoking sometimes, but it’s usually associated with being dirty and shameless. The men tend to cough and spit a lot. Everyone openly coughs and sneezes. There are no common words for “Excuse me” and “Bless you/Salud/Gesundheit/etc” in the Chinese language. It feels rude, but that’s how they are.

4) The subways are hi-tech. The navigation is better than Japan and Taiwan. The maps are friendly and easy to read for Chinese and English-literate people. Similar to an airport, however, you have to pass your bags and luggages through a scanning system and have your liquid containers examined before security allows you to board trains. The rides are cleaner.

5) In modern areas, everyone is very well-dressed. They have a fashion style evolved to incorporating modern and slightly retro looks. Unlike Taiwan and Japan, you don’t see people wearing traditional clothing unless it’s for shows or homely occasions.

6) There are cameras everywhere. It’s like London crosses the Patriot Act. Cameras on the highways, cameras on the streets, cameras in the subways. They use facial recognition and license plate recognition. A price of freedom to pay, but because of this system, we were able to track down one of our luggages that we left in a taxi cab. (Haha.) Security checked where my parents got off onto the subway, found the license plate of the taxi cab, and phoned the taxi driver to tell him to meet my parents at XX station to drop off their luggage.

7) They, uh, don’t like Japanese things in China. There are very few Japanese cars, buildings, and brands, going as far as vandalizing Japanese chain stores and boycotting products despite being safer and better. You can say it’s attributed to history and culture. Chinese people view self-humiliation in a different light. They can be quite envious.

8) Infrastructure is king. Not being political; from an objective outlook, the US spends a hefty amount of tax money on military. China invests in infrastructure. There are a lot of building projects going into apartments, museums, preserving historical sites, and parks and recreation. It’s at the point where national parks are completely paved and tiled. (Kinda defeats the purpose of national parks, but at least you don’t have to worry about muddy shoes.)

9) Local vendors that don’t belong to companies or corporations may sometimes be unsanitary, but the food quality is generally cheaper and tastier. Otherwise, if it wasn’t tasty, how would they sell?

10) Hype isn’t always a good thing. Just about every restaurant we’ve gone to where it was packed with people was just okay. Quiet hole-in-the-walls have a personable charm, quicker service, and equally if not better food. Real talk, the original ma po tofu shop serves tofu that is extremely spicy and bitter. Not worth it.

11) Public facilities like museums and libraries are taken quite seriously. The government believes when things are free, people are more civilized. Go figure, yet in my experiences, people were. Not sure about the museums since there’s a lot of Chinese history and culture to go through, anyway, but the public libraries are utilized to the fullest. You need identification to get inside, and every then, you’re only allowed to bring certain material into the library after going through a baggage and metal scan. There are lockers for your things. It was school time next to a university when I visited, so every seat was occupied with a busy Chinese scholar with a stack of books reviewing notes and practicing words or formulas. It was pretty surreal. I didn’t take pictures, but I’ll let you know there were very few fictional books where I visited.

12) Chinese people don’t listen to signs or tourist warning information. Seriously, as someone who’s part Chinese, myself, the tourists can be extremely disrespectful, and it’s super embarrassing. It’s usually the older generation because...well, if you know your history, you might know why they’re like this. But if it says no cellphones and pictures, you’ll find cellphones and pictures. Lower your sound? Someone’s yelling on their phone about the most trivial thing like what they ate for dinner. Stay on the path? Let me just hop this fence and proceed to head towards this dangerous slippery waterfall to take a mediocre selfie. Yeah, it wasn’t a great time. Someone like Germany would blow their brains out.

13) BRING YOUR OWN TOILET PAPER

I cannot stress enough how precious soft butt paper is. The kind they sell in China are sandpaper scrolls on your tender cheeks. Bring your own tp from home if you are to survive the plight of the outdoor public restroom. And soap or sanitizer. There is normally running water in bathrooms, but no soap! What’s the point if the bacteria is going to spread through the water?! Be prepared for squatting, turds, smells, and wet rims. Unless you stake out in your western hotel all day, you WILL find a squat toilet, and there is a high chance it WILL smell or be mysteriously slippery.

Anyway, here are some pictures I lazily took. The descriptions are all on the top of the photos.

We went to Shanghai first. The people are meh at best. But the architecture is interesting because of the heavy western influences. (Missing obligatory picture of The Bund because I exported it somewhere else.)

Beef noodle soup! My favorite! I like it with a little spiciness. They made the noddles with a knee paddle. Only $2 USD!

I’m not sure how to explain it correctly, nor do I know what the exact name of the method used to make the noodles is. I tried to explain it in the crude drawing I made below.

...

This is KFC.

The majority of the trip was spent in Chengdu in Sichuan Province. It’s hot and humid in the summer, but it was just right when we went.

There are a lot of open markets. Look at all the meat and produce! They even had morel mushrooms. Too bad we didn’t have a stove or butter in our hotel.

We visited Kuanzhai Street, a historical alley consisting of wide and narrow paths with historical buildings. Its initial intent is to let tourists experience some of the old culture of China, but nowadays, there are a bunch of vendors who try to capitalize on how many people go there. It gets very crowded.

A most mysterious wall of memes.

Not bad.

Sugar-blown rooster! It tastes like those rainbow lollipops you sometimes see at fairs or candy shops. You get to blow up the sugar, yourself. An interactive show. :)

Burnt sugar rooster! It tastes like the top of a creme brûlée.

Went on a tour to a panda rehabilitation center. Chengdu is a popular spot for earthquakes, and the one in 2017 left pandas injured and traumatized. This place helps them recuperate until they’re well enough to go back to the public zoos. Outside to greet us was a 5-some of panda statues. The one that stood out was the one on the far right with one leg. I thought he was just leaning his leg behind him, but it turns out, his leg is missing! Affirmative action?

(Missing black and white panda because my good captures were all videos.) The red panda tails are so fluffy and gravity-defying. The tails are like a foot long and stay straight in the air.

A Tibetan-like feast! You eat with your hands, and they give you gloves. Everything was fresh and tasty. They served us yak milk. It tastes like if you mix 1 part milk, 2 parts water, so it’s not bad if you don’t mind the watery taste. Over here, your wealth is measured by the number of white yaks you own.

I’m missing pictures, but there was a good number of performances with singing, dancing, and conga lines at our table. My dad got really into it. Because some Chinese cultures are normally reserved, they weren’t used to his disco dancing. Later, they called him Uncle Buddha. And they said he looked high.

Jiuzhaigou. It was closed since the 2008 earthquake due to high levels of mountain and road collapses. It opened recently, so the locals were surprised to hear that it was open again. You can even take pictures wearing local minority Chinese garb. I think it was around $3 USD, but we needed to haul butt.

WATCH THE PICKLE!! We stayed at a decent hotel, but a popular breakfast dish in China is porridge with various kinds of pickled vegetables. I figured I needed vegetables to help me “go” easier during our travels, so I ate a little of everything. So did my dad. My brother and surprisingly my mom, who eats more veggies than anyone in our family, skipped out. Two hours of a bus ride later, I threw up on the street. My dad threw up minutes after I did. We’re pretty sure the old used for the spicy pickle was stale.

Eh, what can you do?

A clear limestone lake. Surprisingly not many people here. It was also very quiet and clean.

We went to Leshan to see the giant Buddha. It’s not too bad of a walk, maybe because it’s at sea level. (Two days prior, Jiuzhaigou was at 7000ft/2100m, so it was really hard to hike without getting tired.) This thing is HUGE. You might be able to see tiny people in the upper right-hand corner for scale. Only take pictures on the Buddha’s right side!

By the way, there are a lot of little statues and tiny Buddha carvings littered on the hike up there. Per Chinese superstition, you are not supposed to take pictures of them. Some either house evil spirits that you can take home with you or you might trap good spirits from spreading fortune.

Very pretty architecture behind the statue. You can drink tea here for about $5, however, it’s a tourist trap! Don’t waste your money and time. See how these pictures don’t have tourists in them? It’s because they were all caught up drinking tea and sitting on their butts.

Aw, the picture rotated. Anyway, here’s a fly modern monk with Nike’s and a smartphone.

Kinda mad I can’t remember this place, but there were many elephant themes in this tourist town we visited. My brother (listed in the picture below with the ONLY pair of long pants and jacket he stupidly packed for the 12-day trip) found a mantou shop that sells these long buns for only 1 YUAN. That’s like $0.17 USD. As a bun advocate, he said they were tasty.

DPRAUNNDKA (Someone was drunk, alright.)

Hot pot! Taiwan was better, and the Guangdong guys were too afraid to try to spicy broth. (Like Hong Kong, haha. Because Cantonese people don’t like spicy food, according to Himaruya.) It was okay, but we only had 30 minutes to eat before catching a show. I don’t have pictures, but the sets and performances were really cool!

Gelatins! Sketchy at best but tasty-looking!

A pleasant view of the hike up Umeishan. Right past this chasm are monkeys! If I panned my phone down, you would’ve seen trash. This is from the monkeys eating tourists’ food. You have to watch your pockets and bags because they’ll go through them for kicks, usually not even for food. And don’t wear red because it intimidates them.

You can hire rickshaw(?) carriers to take you up the mountain. Great for elderly or lazy people. I think it’s about $32 per way.

Famous Emeishan statue thing. You are supposed to take pictures relevant to your zodiac sign, so there are twelve positions like a clock. It’s COLD up there. But the hike makes you warm! And there’s a cable cart that takes you up most of the way.

Zoomed-in luna month friend. It was behind a temple door. The wings looked so soft.

I forgot what this trail was called. The whole hike was about 7 km. Supposed to be 10, but it started to rain, so we skipped the end. Lots of tourists in places, but very nice scenery. Walk fast to avoid smokers. Why do they smoke while walking? :/

Beer Garden in Chengdu City. It’s a strip of bars and clubs where foreigners can sing American pop songs and drink beer. Lots of “trashy” women with rich drunk men. It’s an insane atmosphere with rich-looking people and every bar being full. Seriously. I’d show more pictures, but you really need a video to get an idea of the vibe. Here’s one of Goose Island, whatever that means. Next to it were two hedge sheep. Look at this shit, there’s a picture of the White House on the poster! Ahhh! XD

Chengdu Global Center Mall

Cheese and rice, I thought Tokyo’s AEON Laketown mall was huge. This place has a hotel and a water theme park built into it with a grocery store and food court in the basement. At this point, my family’s feet hurt from all the walking. -.-’

Boo. We came too late. All the boba was sold out. Hey, cat poop coffee on the top.

Just why?

Last full day in Chengdu. Here’s the outside of the museum. You have to wait in line to get screened before going in, however, it’s free.

An underground strip mall. Okay here me out, we tried very hard to look for bootleg Chinglish shirts, but we could NOT find any. The Chinese locals seemed to either snatch them up or we weren’t looking in the right places.

lol and that’s it. We went back to Shanghai for a full day after that, but I caught major food poisoning from something I ate. It was bad. My bowels felt all twisty and uncomfortable. So I spent the entire day in the hotel while my family had a blast eating food and looking at architecture. My brother found a slew of funny Chinglish menus. I wish I had the pictures. If I find them, I’ll pass them along.

Thanks for reading and I’ll try to update stuff when I get settled down in my new place. :3

#china #not hetalia

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screamingforyears · 7 years ago

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SINGLE FILE:

youtube

TOTENWALD

“SHADOWS IN PARADISE”

PLASTIC BOMB / BAT-CAVE PRODUCTIONS / SIERPIEN

Shot, directed and edited by Sally Dige Jorgensen

Tried and true Deathrock, check.

Fishnets, androgyny, Gothic babydoll chic, check.

Scratchy yet spidery guitars & meaty bass, check.

Blown-out VHS aesthetic, check.

Saxophone, check fucking mate!!!

TOTENWALD are back with the dastardly new single “SHADOWS IN PARADISE” along with a new LP titled ‘Dirty Squats And Disco Lights’ slated for release in February.

The Berlin based group consisting of Sergej (bass), Trish (vocals), Ruby (Saxophone), and Janis (guitars) create some tried & true Deathrock, as “Shadows In Paradise” combine all of those wonderful things I’ve listed above. Trish wails & flails while those guitars snake their way, all dark and sinisterly, around a moving rhythm section, until a snake-charming-like saxophone makes an appearance and seals the deal.

Press play and soak in the blown-out aesthetic that is Totenwald.....

Totenwald’s new LP ‘Dirty Squats And Disco Lights’ drops In February of ‘18 via Plastic Bomb Records, Bat-Cave Productions and Sierpien Records

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encyklopediakoval · 5 years ago

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283) TOTENWALD - międzynarodowa formacja założona w 2014 roku w Berlinie w środowisku tamtejszych squatersów. Trish (śpiew), Siergiej (bass, automat perkusyjny, śpiew), Ruby (saksofon, śpiew) i Janis (gitara, śpiew) przedstawili ekspresyjny image i repertuar sceniczny w muzyce łącząc punk rocka z elementami new wave, death rocka i gotyku. Mają na koncie singla „Wrong Place, Wrong Time” (2016) i album CD/LP „Dirty Squats & Disco Lights” (2017). Kilkakrotnie grali w Polsce, ostatnio w 2017 roku na festiwalu Ramona Fest.

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alienslostinthoughts-blog · 7 years ago

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Why do we go to school?

Panic! At The Disco- The Good The Bad And The Dirty.

Important lyric:: “don't think i’ve ever used a day of my education”

Why does the school think that they’re teaching us ANYTHING?? They really aren’t. It’s kinda funny to be honest. The only valuable thing that i’ve learned in this school was history. This school didn’t teach me anything else. Nothing. I learned good grammar from listening to music and reading books ON MY OWN TIME. do you want to know what we do in reading class? We read a pointless scholastics magazine. It doesn’t teach us anything? I mean yeah, we learn five “new” vocabulary words in every section, but they’re only new if you’re in second grade.

I'm a sophomore in high school. You tell us “we’re preparing you for the real world” everything is the real world. Just because we are under the age of 18 does NOT mean we are ANY less capable of comprehending that there are good and bad things in this world and what we should and shouldn’t do. Yes most of us choose to ignore it, but we are aware of it. Do you want to know what i find funny? I find it funny that the schools think we need to know what y=mx+b is. I find it funny that the school thinks we need calculus why they think we need to learn about quantum theory and chemistry. Depending on the job we might want we will. But not all of us need it. Stop depriving me of my education just so that we can fit the curriculum. School is not even about learning anymore. It’s about passing.

Now there is this song. Its called don't stay in school. Now before you get your pants in a bunch read the lyrics. Because in all honesty, i agree with him.

I wasn't taught how to get a job But I can remember dissecting a frog I wasn't taught how to pay tax But I know loads about Shakespeare's classics I was never taught how to vote They devoted that time to defining isotopes I wasn't taught how to look after my health But mitochondria is the powerhouse of the cell Never spent a lesson on current events Instead I studied The Old American West I was never taught what laws there are. I was never taught what laws there are. Let me repeat: I was not taught the laws for the country I live in, But I know how Henry the VIII killed his women. Divorced, beheaded, died. Divorced, beheaded, survived Glad that's in my head instead of financial advice I was shown the wavelengths of different hues of light But I was never taught my human rights Apparently there's 30, do you know them? I don't Why the hell can't we both recite them by rote?! I know igneous, metamorphic and sedimentary rocks Yet I don't know squat about trading stocks Or how money works at all - where does it come from? How does the thing that motivates the world function? Not taught how to budget and disburse my earnings I was too busy there rehearsing cursive. Didn't learn how much it costs to raise a kid or what an affidavit is But I spent days on what the quadratic equation is Negative b plus or minus the square root of b squared Minus 4ac over 2a That's insane, that's absolutely insane. They made me learn that over basic first aid Or how to recognize the most deadly mental disorders Or diseases with preventable causes Or how to buy a house with a mortgage If I could afford it 'Cause abstract maths was deemed more important Than advice That would literally save thousands of lives But it's cool, 'cause now I could tell you if the number of unnecessary deaths caused by that choice was prime. Never taught present day practical medicines, But I was told what the ancient Hippocratic method is "I've got a headache, the pain is ceaseless What should I take?" umm... maybe try some leeches? "Could we discuss domestic abuse and get the facts Or how to help my depressed friend with their mental state?" Ummm... no but learn mental maths Because "you won't have a calculator with you every day!" They say it's not the kids, the parents are the problem Then if you taught the kids to parent that's the problem solved then! All this advice about using a condom But none for when you actually have a kid when you want one I'm only fluent in this language, for serious? The rest of the world speaks two, do you think I'm an idiot? They chose the solar over the political system So like a typical citizen now I don't know what I'm voting on Which policies exist, or how to make them change Mais oui, je parle un peu de Français So at 18, I was expected to elect a representative For a system I had never ever ever been presented with But I won't take it I'll tell everyone my childhood was wasted I'll share it everywhere how I was "educated" And insist these pointless things Don't stay in school.

I am so so disappointed in the educational system. And it really does piss me off, why the heck don’t you tell us what we need to learn? I don't understand. I really don't.

We have ONE body. One life. Why are we wasting it.

I don't know cpr. I don't know anything about stds or stis or first aid or ANYTHING. The rest of my class does, but I don't. Would you like to know why?

Because I am in transitional classes because i have issues focusing. :) so just because I can’t pay attention at times and because I lose my focus sometime, I get deprived of my education? How is that fair? PLEASE try to give me some absurd excuse.

I am more than capable of learning cpr and sex ed. I'm capable of learning about how to do taxes and how to pay a mortgage. I'm capable of learning how to budget. I'm capable of learning about mental illnesses and how to know the signs of someone going through depression. Maybe then I could have helped my friend.

Oh wait i forgot, the schools DO offer it. It’s just an extracurricular activity that we can take our junior and senior years IF we have the room for it.

I am a sophomore in high school. In 2 years i’ll be graduating.

Then i’ll be off to the “real world”. And I won’t even know

How to survive.

I’m angry at all the things I can't change

link to ‘dont stay in school’ by boyinaband:: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8xe6nLVXEC0

#school is stressful #rant #education sucks #dont stay in school

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