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sesamestreep · 2 years ago

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the first tuesday in may

A/N: I originally wrote this as a prompt fill and then decided I hated it and wrote something else instead, but I held onto the draft because I liked the concept. After revisiting it and editing it into something not completely mortifying to read, I decided to post it after all. Double prompt fill! What a time to be alive! (posted to AO3 here)

Sloan thinks she is uniquely terrible at being a famous person. Not that she gets into trouble as a public figure all that often (trouble finds her with alarming frequency, but she does her best not to court it, at least), but rather that she doesn’t care about a lot of the things she thinks she’s supposed to as a celebrity. If she had her way, she could work at ACN, be on several new programs a day as an anchor, and still somehow not be recognizable at all. This doesn’t make sense to her friends and family. She understands that, on paper, it doesn’t make much sense at all. If she wanted to be some anonymous economist, she simply should not have agreed to ever be on television. She’d chosen this life instead. Some days, she still can't figure out why.

All of this is to say, she never really anticipated being invited to the Met Gala. Honestly, she hadn’t even heard of it until she started working with Mac and even then, she didn’t think about it much. She does like fashion, though, and she likes museums in a theoretical way where she wants them to exist and have funding but she also gets bored after 15 minutes in even the more interesting ones. The fervor and fanaticism around the Met Gala, though, had surprised her and then intimidated her, in that order, when she’d gotten her invitation. But a designer had agreed to dress her and she’d managed to walk the red carpet without falling on her face and she’s pretty sure she didn’t say anything to a reporter that she’ll regret, which means the night was an unmitigated success for her. The thing she’s really worried about is how her colleagues at ACN will react the day after. She’s ultimately more nervous about the first Tuesday in May than she was about the first Monday.

Despite her preparation for commentary and possibly mockery from her co-workers, the morning fortunately passes without incident. By the time she’s finished with the 12 o’clock show, though, most of the staff for the prime time shows have started to trickle in and, truthfully, it’s them she’s most anxious about. Neal is the first to say something, but because it’s Neal, it’s also the cheeriest possible comment she could ever hope for.

“Saw pics from the Met Gala last night,” he says, as she passes by his desk. He doesn’t even take his eyes off his computer in order to say it. “You looked amazing. How many best dressed lists did you make?”

“I haven’t checked,” Sloan replies, with a slight eye roll. “I’m guessing very few.”

“No way.”

“There was some debate over whether I dressed properly to the theme.”

“Yes, but that’s what people love about the Met Gala. The debate is the fun part!”

“If you say so.”

“Regardless, me and all the other brave soldiers on Sloan Sabbith stan Twitter have your back.”

“I know what most of those words mean individually and yet, together, they’re a mystery to me.”

“So, a ‘stan’ is actually—”

“Oh, no. I’d like it to remain a mystery, thanks.”

Neal clamps his mouth shut with an amused expression. “Suit yourself.”

“I appreciate the loyalty, though,” she calls over her shoulder, as she makes her way to Mac’s office.

“Always!”

Her knock on Mac’s door is immediately met with an invitation to come in, but she hesitates in the doorway when she sees Will there already.

“I can come back…”

“Not at all,” Mac says, waving her in. “Will and I were discussing what to do with your segment for tonight’s show as it is.”

“We have so many options for what to discuss,” Will says brightly, “since you missed last night’s show.”

Sloan sighs. “Okay, I knew this was coming…”

“Did you have fun at your fancy party? With all your celebrity friends? While the rest of us were working?”

“First of all, Charlie approved it, and I was there representing ACN, so I was working, thank you very much,” she replies, crossing her arms over her chest. “And secondly, you’ve been to the Met Gala like five times! Don’t take it out on me that you got snubbed this year!”

“Why would they want me there, when they can have someone younger and more beautiful?”

“Yes, it’s that and not your feud with Anna Wintour that prevented you being invited,” Mac says, giving him an arch look.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Will says, spreading his hands out in a wide, innocent gesture.

Sloan, for her part, is delighted. “What did you do, Will?”

“Nothing!”

Mac snorts. “He called her a shrew at Anderson Cooper’s birthday party three years ago.”

“That’s not true,” Will shouts. “How did you even know about that?”

“He told everyone at CNN about it,” she replies, looking down at the papers strewn about her desk, like this subject is boring her completely.

“I did not call her a shrew,” Will says, this time to Sloan. “I would not say that about anyone, even if they deserved it, like Anna Wintour very clearly does.”

“He was very drunk at the time,” Mac says, also to Sloan, over-pronouncing the words like she’s speaking about a child. “He doesn’t remember.”

This, at the very least, does make Will look sheepish. “I wouldn’t say it, even drunk,” he insists, though he doesn’t sound quite so confident anymore. “But I think we can all agree that her reaction is not unlike how a total shrew would behave.”

“Just apologize to her, dude,” Sloan says, leaning on the available chair in front of Mac’s desk, rather than sitting in it like a normal person.

“Don’t call me ‘dude,’” Will says, pointing a warning finger in her direction. “And I’m not going to apologize for something that I never did in the first place.”

“Allegedly,” Mac says.

“Shut up,” Will shoots back.

“I’m just saying, if you smoothed things over with Anna, you and I could be Met Gala buddies next year.”

Will looks incredulous. “Oh, it’s ‘Anna’ now, is it?”

“Well, yeah. We really bonded on the dance floor when Bruno Mars was playing.”

Will makes a disgusted sound, while Mac hides her smile in her fist. “Leona must have been in heaven,” she says, tactfully trying to move the conversation in another direction. “She loves Bruno Mars.”

“She was. I think she invited him to her birthday party next weekend. Reese looked like he was going to burst a blood vessel.”

“Leona’s birthday was in March,” Will says, frowning.

“I know,” Sloan says, patiently. “Do the math on that one quicker, Will.”

Will’s face clears with comprehension. “Poor Reese,” he says, shaking his head. “Anyway, now that we’re done gossiping about our country’s elite and their posh exploits at an event designed to market luxury brands to those who will never be able to afford them, we should talk about tonight’s show, which will be dedicated to the working class, the average citizen, and the—”

“And the suit you’ll be wearing will be custom Armani,” Mac interjects, unimpressed. “Nice try, farm boy.”

Half an hour later, Sloan emerges from the meeting with her topic for her segment on Will’s show settled and makes a beeline for her office, praying that she’s already been accosted by everyone who cares about the Met Gala and she can make it through the rest of the day in peace. Unfortunately, she’s not so lucky.

Kendra offers her some polite praise on her dress in passing, which prompts Martin and Gary to do a quick Google search while she’s standing right there. It’s a new form of torture she was not remotely prepared for.

“Woah,” Gary says, artless as always. “You look glam, Sloan.”

“That’s kind of the point,” she replies, fighting the urge to fidget.

“Did you meet anyone cool?” Martin asks, and she disappoints him by saying she didn’t. He then swivels his monitor towards her so she can see a picture of her talking to Bradley Cooper, which she fully doesn’t remember happening. When she just shrugs, Martin looks crestfallen and she takes that as her cue to leave.

Later on, when she’s walking through the bullpen after a meeting with Zane, Jenna stops her to say how much she loved her dress and to ask if Bruno Mars was nice in person, which leads to a repeat of the same situation as before, except now it’s Maggie and Jim googling her in front of her.

“I didn’t really talk to him much,” she says, keeping an eye on the others. Jenna’s clearly disappointed by this answer, so she adds, “But that’s only because he made a point of talking to everybody.”

“That’s so cool,” Jenna gushes, mollified at last. “He seems so down to earth, you know?”

“Uh, yeah,” Sloan says, vaguely. She definitely should have paid more attention to who she talked to last night. She was too busy praying to every god she could think of that Bruno Mars would become Reese’s new stepdad to retain any details of her actual conversation with him.

“Wow,” Jim says. “That’s a lot.”

Maggie fixes him with a glare. “Don’t be an asshole,” she says, with real fire. “Sloan, you look beautiful.”

“Oh, thanks,” Sloan replies, shrugging. “It’s like a costume party, kind of, so it’s supposed to be over the top.”

Jim, for his part, looks embarrassed. “I wasn’t trying to be rude! You know that I think you’re beautiful too, Sloan. I was just saying—”

“You think she’s beautiful?” Maggie asks, lightly. Too lightly. It’s the most obvious thing Sloan has ever heard, and she’s intimately familiar with being too obvious with people she likes.

“Yeah, I mean. Clearly,” Jim says, scratching his neck and (if Sloan’s not mistaken) wishing he’d never been born. “She’s—you’re very beautiful, Sloan, in a textbook kind of way.”

Sloan and Jenna wince simultaneously, and Maggie’s head swivels sharply to stare down Jim even more intensely. “What is that supposed to mean?” she asks, and Sloan gets the vague sense that she’s handed them another convenient reason to pretend to hate each other for the day.

“Nothing,” Jim practically shouts. “Sloan’s beautiful. But like, you know, she doesn’t need all this—” he waves a hand in the direction of Maggie’s monitor, presumably at the photo of Sloan on the red carpet—“to be beautiful. I think she looks nice in real life, when she’s more natural.”

“Oh, right,” Maggie replies with an eye roll. “You’re one of those guys who likes women when they wear no makeup, right?”

Jim looks over to Sloan and Jenna, who are watching this disaster unfold with stone faced solemnity. Sloan tries to convey with just her eyes that he needs to stand down or get his ass handed to him, but it definitely doesn’t come through. He decides to dig his own grave, instead.

“Yeah, I mean, that’s preferable, isn’t it?”

“How much makeup is Jenna wearing right now?” Maggie asks, smelling blood in the water.

“Uh, none. Right?”

Maggie swings her gaze over to Jenna. “Is that true?”

“No,” Jenna says, with another sympathetic wince.

“How many products did you use to get ready this morning?”

Jenna sighs. “Twelve.”

“No fucking way,” Jim says, staring at Jenna like he’ll suddenly unlock x-ray vision somehow.

“Women have to put so much effort into their appearance just to look like what men think of as ‘natural,’” Maggie says, truly on a roll now. “And then men like you criticize women who wear makeup that looks ‘over the top’ or ‘obvious’. It’s like we can’t win!”

“To be fair,” Sloan attempts to interject, “I don’t think Jim meant—”

Jim doesn’t take the assist, because he interrupts to yell, “I don’t see how it’s my fault that beauty standards—!”

“I wasn’t saying it was your fault,” Maggie replies, hotly, “just that you’re part of the problem.”

“Oh, yeah, because that’s so much better!”

Sloan gives Jenna a sympathetic shoulder pat, as she delicately makes her exit. Jim and Maggie will be at each other’s throats until they run out of oxygen, and she doesn’t need to wait around for that. Unfortunately, Jenna, as an intern, probably will. She returns once again to the peace and quiet of her office.

Getting ready for Market Wrap-Up at four o’clock, she gets into a conversation with the make-up artist—not the usual girl, who’s out with what she suspects is strep throat—about the gala, what it’s like to attend, if the exhibit is any good this year, which are questions Sloan is more happy to answer. No, she didn’t get to keep anything she wore. Yes, she was worried she was going to fall on those stairs. No, she didn’t bring a date.

This last answer seems to displease the woman. “If I was dating someone off the New York Giants, I’d make sure everyone knew,” she says, as she dabs mattifying concealer on Sloan’s nose. It’s to reduce shininess from sweating under the intense studio lights, Sloan knows, but she can’t help regretting the way it obscures her freckles too.

“I’m not…dating anyone on the New York Giants,” Sloan says, carefully.

“Oh, don’t worry! I’m not going to tell TMZ. You don’t have to pretend for my benefit.”

“I’m not pretending. I’m really not dating anyone from the Giants. Or any other NFL team, for that matter.”

“So, who are you dating, then?” the woman asks, with a knowing sparkle in her eye.

Sloan shrugs. “No one.”

“That’s too bad. You’re pretty. You should be dating someone.”

Sloan wants to object to that assessment, or the overly familiar way this woman she doesn’t know is talking about her love life, but she can’t muster the energy. She’s been on a string of bad dates lately, including one with, yes, a New York Giant, but none of them had come to anything. She’s officially too old to consider second dates with men who can’t be bothered to ask her a single question all night long. And there’s the recent experience with having her private photos leaked by an ex that she’s still reeling from. Overall, her wariness is probably not unwarranted. That doesn’t dispel the loneliness of it all, though.

“Do you think I look old?” Sloan asks, suddenly.

The makeup artist does a gratifying double take, looking back and forth between Sloan in real life and Sloan in the mirror. “Girl, where are you seeing that?” she asks.

“Not here,” Sloan says. “I saw the pictures of me from the event and I just thought I looked tired and old. I don’t know.”

“Absolutely not,” this woman she barely knows says with more confidence than Sloan can imagine having. “Don’t do that. You look amazing. There is nothing wrong with looking your age, but you sure as hell do not look old. Don’t do that!”

“You’re right. I just—”

The woman adjusts Sloan’s head so she’s looking straight into the mirror. “Honey, if you can’t even have confidence in yourself, the rest of us are definitely in trouble.”

That is enough to startle a laugh out of her, though she hides it by looking down at her lap. “Thank you,” Sloan says, feeling far too raw about it. “I…did I even ask for your name when we got started?”

“You didn’t, but it’s Mika.”

“Thank you, Mika. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Mika says, like it really is nothing to her, as she touches up Sloan’s eyeliner with a deft hand.

It’s a couple hours after that, when Sloan is frantically trying to put the finishing touches on her segment for Will’s show, that she remembers she left some of her notes from their meeting behind in the green room. In her rush to go grab them, she nearly collides with Elliot as he’s leaving the room with Don in tow.

“God, did you get taller?” she gripes, as their almost run-in just brings her attention to the fact that she only comes up to his sternum.

“Nice to see you too, Sloan,” Elliot replies, elegantly side-stepping her. “Rough day?”

She glowers at him. “No. Why?”

“I thought maybe you might have indulged in too much champagne with Rihanna last night or something.”

“I didn’t meet Rihanna,” Sloan says, rolling her eyes. Though, given her Bradley Cooper slip-up earlier, she honestly isn’t even sure that’s true. “And I’m not hungover at work, thank you very much.”

“Just a joke,” Elliot says, holding his hands up in surrender. “My wife wanted me to tell you she thought your dress was beautiful. She’s obsessed with Vivienne Westwood.”

“Oh,” Sloan says, caught off guard by this praise. Elliot’s wife is so much cooler than him. “That’s so nice.”

“You didn’t get to meet her, did you?”

“Very briefly, but all my meetings and fittings were with her people, unfortunately. She was nice, though, when we did meet.”

Elliot smiles. “I’ll tell her. She’ll be so jealous. She really wanted to get married in one of her dresses, but it wasn’t really in the budget back then.”

“Next time we have an office party or something, tell her to come pester me with questions.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I’d love that.”

“You’re the best, Sloan,” Elliot practically shouts, as he makes his way down the hall, leaving her and Don alone together.

If she’s being honest with herself (which she tries to do as infrequently as possible), it’s Don’s opinion of the whole Met Gala thing she’s most worried about. Unlike some other people here—she thinks of Mac and Will, specifically—Don doesn’t bother to pretend that he’s above paying attention to the less highbrow items that make the news, but given that he’s also a straight man who wears the same five flannel button-ups to work on a regular rotation, he might be above caring about news that pertains to fashion. He might think the whole thing is stupid, which is the way Sloan wishes she felt. She can’t go in for some of the more avant-garde and impractical sides of haute couture, but she likes a well-made, properly fitted, beautiful piece of clothing as much as any sane person does. Her favorite outfit might be jeans and a hoodie, but she can also appreciate the work that goes into those couture gowns even she, an actual celebrity like it or not, will never have occasion to wear. So, yes, she’s bracing herself for Don’s opinion, provided he has one. Which, obviously, he does, because he’s Don.

“Allow me to be easily the 150th person to tell you that you looked beautiful last night,” Don says, after they’ve been quietly standing there like idiots for a few minutes. Sloan is already in the process of scoffing, when he interrupts to ask, “Did you have fun?”

Sloan makes a helpless gesture with her hands. “I guess…?”

“You guess?”

“It’s…really overwhelming. And exciting! But loud. And there’s so many people and they’re all taking photos. And I had to be careful not to crush my dress when I sat down, so that was awkward. But it really was cool! Seeing the exhibit while the museum was closed was awesome.”

“I bet. Whenever my sister visits the city, she always drags me to some new exhibit at the Met. If I ever win the lottery, I figured I’d rent the place out for her for a big birthday or something.”

“That’s…” Not adorable. Not sweet. Not I’d love to meet this sister I’ve never heard of before next time she’s in town. Has she ever been shown around the Met by someone who saw the exhibit while Gisele Bundchen was six feet away, because I’d be happy to— “That would be such a good idea.”

Don smiles, and his eyes do that thing where they crinkle at the corners. “Well, cross your fingers I win the Powerball soon.”

Sloan very dorkily crosses her actual fingers, making him laugh. “Maybe then they’d let you go to the Met Gala,” she says, like a stupid idiot.

Luckily, Don just laughs again. “Oh, I don’t think they’d ever admit the likes of me.”

“No?” Sloan tries to picture it and fails. Don on a red carpet doesn’t make a lot of sense, if she’s being honest. He has that behind-the-scenes energy, that frustrated stage manager from high school theater aura that he just can’t shake. Still, she can’t help thinking that she would have had more fun if he were there with her, which is a line of thought she’s not allowed to pursue any further.

“I don’t think schlubby E.P.s of poorly rated cable news programs are ever going to drive viewers to Vogue’s website, even if they happened to be independently wealthy,” he says, plainly.

“You’re not schlubby,” Sloan objects before she can collect her wits. She feels a little bit of Mika’s ire from before when Sloan called herself tired-looking hearing Don put himself down. “Don’t say that.”

He waves her off. “Either way, I have a hard time imagining it will ever be an issue for me.”

“Too bad,” she replies, too incensed to be cautious. “I can’t help feeling like the event would have been way more fun with a buddy.”

He looks at her, in that Don way of his, like he’s running diagnostics or something. Like he’s reading her thoughts and intentions and trying to figure out what the fuck to do with them. Hell, she knows they’ve both been through a lot lately, especially where their love lives are concerned, but how many times can she make her interest clear before they confront the damn thing?

“But then you’d have to rent a tux, of course,” she says, when the silence stretches too long and she loses her nerve. “And who wants to do that?”

“Well, that won’t be an issue either,” he says, looking at her seriously.

“Right, of course! I was—”

“I mean, I already own one,” Don says, cutting her off.

“Oh. Well. That is…good to know for, um…well…”

“Future reference?” he suggests, eyebrow raised inquisitively.

“Yeah, for future reference. Exactly. Just in case I ever, um…”

“In case you ever need a date.”

“Right,” Sloan says, feeling insane. “Like at the last minute or something like that.”

“Yeah,” Don says with a smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, I’ll keep you in mind.”

“That’s all I ask.”

Sloan entertains several bad ideas at once, ranging from making up a wedding she needs a date for this summer so she can see him in this tux he supposedly owns to desperately admitting he doesn’t need to ask her to keep him in mind, that she thinks about him all the time, that she hasn’t figured out how to stop thinking about him yet, but she ultimately manages to keep her cool with great effort. For someone who was anxious to confront this thing between them a moment ago, she’s not doing very much confronting right now. In fact, she’s trying to figure out a way to get out of this conversation as fast as possible so she can retreat to the safety and seclusion of her own office again and regain some damn equilibrium. But they’re in too deep now to cut and run without making things even more awkward. She’s stuck.

“Don, thank God!” Mac exclaims as she rounds the corner, startling them both. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere!”

“I just finished a meeting with Elliott,” he says, taking his eyes off Sloan belatedly and managing to sound normal and casual as he does so. Maybe he’s not managing anything. Maybe he feels normal and casual. Maybe Sloan is the only one freaking out. “What’s up?”

“I had a question about—sorry, I’m not interrupting, am I?” Mac asks, seeming to only notice Sloan just then.

Don, of course, being an unholy plague on her peace of mind, looks over at Sloan, as if to pass the onus of answering Mac’s question on to her. Why couldn’t she develop feelings for someone nice? Why did it have to be Don, who’s tough and perceptive and smart, but stubborn and self-effacing and impossible at the same time? Couldn’t it have been someone easier and more laidback and more straightforward? Then again, even as she thinks it, she finds herself growing bored of this hypothetical person. She wants Don, even if it’s a bad idea, but she’s not ready to say it out loud just yet. Not again. The last time had nearly killed her.

“No,” she says, pasting on a smile for Mac’s benefit and hoping it’s enough to fool someone who knows her so well. “Nothing important.”

“Oh, good. You have a second to talk, then, Don?”

“Yeah, sure,” he says, with an easy shrug. “Let’s go to my office.”

“See you in a few, Mac,” Sloan chimes in, as she ducks around them to sneak into the green room.

Don doesn’t let her off the hook that easily, though, because he turns at the last second and says her name, pulling her attention back to him. When she meets his eye, he says, simply, “I meant what I said before, Sloan. I’m here, if you want me.”

With Mac watching them like a hawk, Sloan can’t acknowledge that with much more than a nod. “I know,” she says, too softly for someone trying to be casual. It must be enough for Don, though, because he nods too and heads off with a bemused looking Mac. Sloan is sure, if nothing else, that Don can be trusted to distract Mac with work talk and that whatever just happened between them is safe with him. He would never give her away like that, not even to Mac. When she turns back to the room and catches sight of her flushed cheeks and bright eyes in the mirrors that line the walls, though, she’s not convinced their secret will be safe with her for very long.

#it's still A monday in may so I feel like this is pretty timely by my standards #almost capturing the zeitgeist which is a thing i'm usually even worse at #anyway #the newsroom #sloan sabbith #don keefer #don x sloan #just realized this is the first fic in this collection that actually involves the ensemble at all #also fwiw if you haven't watched 'the first monday in may' i highly recommend it #it's a documentary about putting together the 2015 met gala and it's excellent #also contains an anna wintour moment that I still routinely crack up over several years after watching it #anyway here's wonderwall #homelywenchsociety

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5and3nevermind · 1 year ago

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Note: this post has been sitting in my drafts, unfinished. I didn’t finish it partly because I wasn’t exactly sure where I was going with this, and partly because I was concerned I’ve been repetitive about how much I love it when they talk about their off-camera time. Anyway, I decided to go ahead and post it without changing the ending; I decided I kind of like it how it is. 😉 (For a handy list of their off-camera outings, you can take a look at my thread on twitter.)

You know I love when Jimin and Yoongi talk about each other. Not only is it fun to get additional insights into their relationship, but it also makes things so easy for those of us who want to understand their dynamic. Sometimes we can just take someone’s words at face value and that’s that. What conclusion do we come to if we do that?

Jimin called Yoongi immediately after his shoulder surgery. He wasn’t even fully awake yet, which means 1. Jimin knew what time the surgery would be complete and 2. he wanted to speak with Yoongi and make sure he was ok as soon as possible and 3. whoever answered the phone knew this was an important call and handed the phone to Yoongi even though he wasn’t totally coherent yet!

When Jimin was asked by Fallon which members he stays in touch with the most, Jimin said, “J-Hope, Suga…everyone.”

Jimin said he was most excited to do the Like Crazy dance challenge with Yoongi.

Jimin said that it was Yoongi’s words that inspired him when he was feeling discouraged back in the early days.

During the pandemic, when asked about hobbies, Jimin said his only hobby at the moment was gaming with Yoongi.

Meanwhile…

During In the Soop, Yoongi chose to share Amygdala with Jimin (which we didn’t learn until much later).

When Yoongi was asked at a D-Day event which member he’d spoken to most recently, he said Jimin.

When he was asked during a live if he’d seen any of the members that day, he said Jimin.

The first day after the bulk of the D-Day tour was complete, Yoongi had drinks with Jimin.

Prior to starting his mil service, Yoongi went out for sushi with Jimin.

I’m not even sure where I’m going with this, but yoonmin.

#yoonmin #their own words #in their free time #sitting in my drafts #unfinished #surgery era #face era #d day era

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aria-chatt · 1 year ago

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No offense but this situation is getting fairly overblown and some people need to get some perspective

First off: Most people, including me and including almost everyone I’ve seen talking about this (outside of tumblr), did not know about the antisemitic origins of the NWO stuff. It’s really not as common knowledge as y’all think. It is MUCH better known as just “that weird thing that dumb conspiracy theorists think” and I say that as someone who’s been into learning about/making fun of conspiracy theories for years.

2: Yes, I’m not happy about the AI art thing. Yes, it takes jobs from real artists and yes AI is fed by art that goes uncredited. But do I think doing one thing with it is a deal breaker for the band and everyone involved? No, and frankly they are doing it a little better than others I’ve seen. (Tons of people aren’t even making it clear they’re using AI art and/or are implying that they created the art when they use AI)

3: Could his response have been a little bit more well put? Sure, but to be honest I don’t think we’ve ever known Frank to be elegant with words. Take a look at his Twitter and you’ll see he just talks kinda weird and likely doesn’t draft tweets, I’ve always gotten the impression that he just types something out in 2 seconds and presses post. Sometimes they’re weird. Welcome to MCR.

I personally think he’s more just bewildered by accusations of bigotry at a joke that 90% of people wouldn’t even know is problematic. Yes, he could’ve actually apologized but again, most people I’ve seen (including Frank) are just now learning that his joke could be problematic. It’s a confusing situation

4: Frank has been actively progressive and anti-bigotry his entire career and if you think this is some deal breaker, wait a couple days for this to cool off and chill out. I’m not trying to be dismissive of the criticisms here, in fact I’m taking them very seriously and taking personal note of everything I’ve learned. But don’t attack random people for mistakes that anyone could have made.

#frank iero #mcr #ls dudes #my chemical romance

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kaneralmighty · 2 years ago

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Since i’ve been away for couple of years and I kind of just reappeared of nowhere, I thought I could kind of reintroduce myself ^_^

So hi!

I’m Patricia. I live in Montreal and i’ve been a Blackhawks fan for 16 years.

Even if I live in Montreal, I had an attachement to the Blackhawks since Kaner got drafted by them and he’s one of the reasons why I fell in love with this beautiful sport. I’m a Habs fan but also a Blackhawks fan, my heart is big enough to root for 2 (now 3 because of the Rangers haha) teams.

When I was 18, my dad asked my what I wanted the most for my birthday since in Canada majority is 18, and I said a red Patrick Kane jersey. I love this jersey with all my heart and this is me, top of Montreal view of the city with my beloved jersey haha

Living in Montreal, the Blackhawks comes to Montreal once a year. As everyone, I was dreaming to meet my idol. I’ve been trying years after years and it was hard because of the security agents and resellers who were pushing and go insane to get a signature from him. After trying for 7 years (!!) it finally happened! It was -40 outside and I’ve been waiting for 3h, so don’t mind my face I was very happy haha

Then, every year he would, at least smile or say hello and that was enough for me. I’m just a fan and I want him to know he got my support. I met him also later, and this was the best meeting.

Because right after meeting him, he saw me at the warmup (I was going at the game) and he threw me a puck. Not only that, he stayed to make sure I was the one catching it, I did show him the puck and he smiled before leaving.

I’ve been going to Hawks vs Habs games since 2015 (because I’m working and I can pay my hockey tickets now haha) with a Blackhawks jersey, my Kaner jersey. Well, when I go I must say i’m rooting for both Habs and Hawks, it’s always fun games ❤️

I had a twitter account with the same name as this blog. But if you stan Patrick Kane, you probably got the same experience as me : people are telling you very mean stuff. I’m a sensitive person, I cry easily in real life and during my school years, i’ve been bullied to the point where I almost killed myself because of it. It’s all good now, but people on twitter would tell me to kill myself because I was a fan of Patrick Kane, and the comment that took me to the breaking point : I hope you meet him and he rapes you. This comment broke me, completely. I knoooow it’s virtual, those people hides behind a screen, but I thought this one was too much and I disappeared from social medias. I even stopped caring about hockey because I thought at the end of the day, it’s just a sport and it was causing more damage to me than brining me happiness.

I came back, 3 years later, when the Habs went to the Stanley cup finale, and slowly came back. Aaand, here I am, still there after all this time. Since he got traded, I felt the need to come back because it might sound stupid but I thought it’s probably a bit hard for him right now and I should be here to support him? So…yeah, I got a Rangers jersey HAHA and I had to go see him just to show him my support. Even if i’m like, a fan in 827373.

#patrick kane #kaner #nhl #hockey #chicago blackhawks #new york rangers

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girldraki · 1 year ago

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hi i went thru the [looking at yalls ocs on artfight] -> [reading the weedsmp lorepost] pipeline again and i am dying to know about what people think about weedsmp. like in universe i mean. what do the fans Think Of It All... i know theres anomalous stuff but does like the foundation and such exist? what do they think of this Large Online Thing With Anomalous TiesTM. what's the wildest fan discourse. what do the smp members think of the fandom. sorry if this is a lot

oh my god we drafted this ask and then forgot it existed entirely. dies

the foundation doesn’t exist yet because the hypothetical o5 council are busy playing minecraft, every other goi is running though

the fanbase is actually largely non anomalous for purely statistical reasons; once it breached containment (lol) from the mostly anomalous audiences of the involved streamers it just kind of kept going in that direction

^ non anomalous fans are acting under the assumption all anomalous information is improvised lore and discuss it as such. On a unrelated note, about half of mekhanite twitter fucking hates jo weedchamp (for reasons unrelated to his deepseated heresy that is)

due to the previous bullet point, everyone knows founder/arron/ofholyclockwork says slurs and is mad about this. Even though. They are not quite sure what said slurs are

the fans are very enthusiastic and very prolific and completely wrong about probably 70% of the information surrounding: what the streamers are like as people, the dynamics and characters of the roleplay, almost all of the anomalous stuff, more we’re forgetting

the streamers basically all have different individual opinions on the above. jo is pretty lenient because at least everyone is having fun

final note: i don’t know if this made it in the lore posts or character bios but jo took like several real life months to realize anyone on the server was roleplaying, promptly told arron “oh i’m so glad i thought you really did hate me for heresy” and was immediately met with a flat What. No i do

#ask #fair-lead

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modelbus · 2 years ago

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Tommyinnit x masc nb reader where they don't try to hide their relationship from the internet, but at the same time refuse to confirm nor deny it.

Like...they have pictures online of them on dates, wearing each others clothes, in each other's background during stream, etc, etc. The evidence is right there??? But they don't confirm it. Matter of fact, they don't even "know who that ugly mug in the picture is".

Wilbur is the first one to leak their relationship tho, woops.

”whoops” killed me. Also, look at my funny little guy in the photo! It felt fitting.

Pairing: CC!Tommyinnit x Nb!Reader (romantic)

Evading Evidence

Tommy’s streaming when you get tired of scrolling through Twitter. Normally you’re able to sit on his bed, just out of sight of his camera, and catch up on all the drama. It’s been a quiet few days though, so you’re already bored.

“I’m going to run to the store real quick.” You say, getting up.

Tommy turns, neither of you acknowledging the stream. Chat’s going crazy about the fact you were there the entire thirty minutes Tommy’s been live for, and possibly longer.

Despite the fact you and Tommy were dating, neither of you had let the internet know yet. Sure, there were pictures and Tweets and remarks basically confirming it, but both of you were careful never to say it outright. At this point it was almost a game.

“Oh, can you get me twin gummy snakes?” Tommy asks, practically begging you with his eyes.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because I need fuel and you love me?”

You consider it for a second before giving in. “Fine. I’ll be back in, like, ten minutes.”

“Thanks! Don’t get run over!”

“Why would I- never mind.”

Tommy doesn’t turn back towards the stream until after he hears you leave, shutting the door behind you. It’s only then that he takes notice of the chat freaking out over his words.

“Chat, what the fuck are you talking about? They don’t love me. Actually, I don’t have a clue who the fuck that was!” He exclaims. “Back to Minecraft.”

“Hey, is this okay to post?” Jack Manifold asks, practically shoving his phone into your face.

You take it, examining the Twitter draft. It’s a selfie he took before the filming of the latest Tom Simons vlog. Behind him you can barely see you and Tommy curled up on the couch together, looking at something. The photo is captioned “Tom Simons vlog done.”

“Sure. Tommy?” You ask, handing the phone over to him.

He barely takes a look at it. “Yeah.”

“Thanks!” Jack says cheerfully, immediately posting.

“Time to fight the stans like our lives depend on it.” You joke, already opening Twitter and navigating to Jack’s profile.

“It’s fucking funny.” Tommy laughs.

“Gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss. What’re you tweeting?”

“I’ll reply to yours.” He leans over to watch you type out your reply, reading it aloud. “'Not Jack photoshopping the background'.”

“Are you two ever going to tell the internet?” Jack asks, laughing a little.

“Oh, the internet definitely knows. They just chose to believe us when we lie to their faces.” You answer.

“I’m replying ‘incredibly disrespectful.’” Tommy announces. You get the notification of his reply right after he says it.

“Don’t get me canceled.” Jack sighs.

“No promises.”

"Why are you talking about Tommy so much?" A donation asks.

You were doing a just chatting stream, spilling some fun stories. A few of them had been dates with Tommy, but you didn't call them dates. Chat still had their suspicions though.

"Because I hate him." You deadpan, staring into your camera. "Worst person ever, kill all Tommyinnits."

It barely takes a second for the chat to react to your words, thousands of people calling you a liar. As your eyes flick through messages, one catches your eye.

"Why are you wearing his hoodie then, hm?" Gets read aloud. "Well, you see, it simply isn't his. This very clearly branded Tommyinnit hoodie? Mine."

It's merch of his that hadn't shipped yet, his name displayed across your chest. The only possible way for you to have some would be him giving you some or you stealing his. One guess as to what you did.

Yeah, you took his.

"I have the fastest shipping in the world guys, you have to believe me."

Nobody believes you. It's not even the first time you've worn his clothes, just the first you've worn them on stream. Maybe you should've been a little more careful, but oh well. Who really cares anyways? The game was fun, but not too serious.

"Besides, as if I'd ever wear something Tom fucking Simons tainted with his gremlin hands." It's a fun little jab, one you know he'll hear about later. Probably from Twitter.

"Hey!" Tommy yells from somewhere in the flat.

Or maybe he'll hear about it right that second. He must be watching your stream, making you smile.

"Sorry." You say it in a way that clearly shows you don't mean the apology, laughing to yourself a little. After running a hand through your hair, you speak again. "Did I tell you guys about how I almost killed a person by riding a bike the other day?"

Of course, all jokes eventually end. This one just happens to meet its death in Wilbur's hands, live on stream.

“We’re out, we’ll see you tomorrow for the vlog.” Tommy says, pulling you to your feet.

It’s been over an hour of being on Wilbur’s stream, stuck in his little cramped office. One person was fine, two could fit, but three was just too much. Besides, you knew Tommy’s limit was an hour.

“Have a good stream!” You tell Wilbur cheerfully, shutting the door before he gets the chance to say goodbye. To make up for it, he waves.

“And there go the lovers.” Wilbur jokes to his stream, putting himself back into the middle of the frame now you and Tommy are gone. “Off to do whatever they do.”

It barely takes a minute for chat to explode, making Wilbur realize exactly what he just did. His face drains of color as he sits up.

“Shit- fuck. It was a joke, guys. A joke.”

Like a dog with a bone, chat’s already taken his words and ran with them. Wilbur’s fuck up is beyond repair. Instead of digging himself a deeper grave, he just messages you and Tommy.

You’re both back in his office in a matter of seconds, having sprinted back down the corridor. It wasn’t that you were upset, more just panicked. This definitely wasn’t how you meant to confirm it.

“Well… shit.” Tommy finally speaks, just off camera. “You’ve leaked it Wil.”

“I didn’t fucking mean to!”

“We should leak something about you in return.” You joke.

“Hey, I didn’t mean to!” Wilbur quickly defends himself.

Tommy pokes his head into the camera frame to address chat, grinning to show he isn’t pissed at Wilbur at all. You laugh, waiting to see what he’ll say.

“Oi, chat, you’re all fucking dumb. Took you lot long enough.”

Wilbur sags with visible relief, glad neither of you are going to kill him for his slip-up. Now that it’s established he didn’t ruin everything, it’s a lot funnier.

“We’re going to miss the movie showing.” You announce, checking your phone for the time.

“Fuck. Bye again.” Tommy laughs as you drag him out the door.

When the door shuts, Wilbur laughs and shakes his head. “Whoops?”

#tommyinnit mcyt #tommyinnit x you #tommyinnit x reader #tommyinnit #mcyt #dsmp #tommyinit dsmp #tommyinnit imagine #mcyt imagine

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melancholicmarionette · 2 years ago

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(One of many things languishing in my drafts, based on my love for long-form, narrative based journalism and the fact that applying anything close to realism to this show is very fun. This isn’t finished and might not be so I’m throwing it out there)

Kids in the Abyss

Excerpts from Team Phantom’s first post-reveal interview together, a long form profile written by Anne Donnelly for Paranormal Digest.

—

The Fenton’s home is unique, even disregarding the laboratory concealed by a secured metal door just off the living room. Jack and Maddie Fenton purchased and refurbished the building, an abandoned fire house, shortly after moving to Amity Park. The changes made varied in scale, from a subterranean lab of glistening chrome and toxic green, to simply removing the fireman’s pole to prevent clumsy children from “learning about gravity too soon.”

Daniel Fenton is one of those children, known as the clumsier one when compared to his sister Jasmine. One of the first things I ask him when we sit down on the Fentons’ living room sofa is if that has changed since he, for lack of a better term, gained super powers.

“Absolutely not,” he replies without hesitation, “if anything, I’m worse.”

One thing the world seems to agree on about Danny Fenton is that he is the kid people would last expect to be a superhero.

“To be fair, there aren’t a whole bunch of superheroes to ask,” he says of this notion.

He’s right, of course, but it still seems unlikely at first glance. He looks different from his alter-ego, his eyes a clear blue and his hair dark, but upon looking closer it’s very clear there’s more to the sixteen year old than meets the eye. His gaze was very calculating when we first met, assessing if I was trustworthy, if I was a threat, as I’m sure he had to do countless times with varying results.

He hasn’t done any kind of interview since his brief guest appearance on the local news, he and his friends refused requests for interviews from the most famous talk shows in the country.

“I just…” he pauses, looking down and away in thought, “I never really wanted to be…famous, I guess. I think I used to, and I definitely wanted to respected and stuff, yeah. I don’t have a choice over a lot of that anymore, but I still have some modicum of control over what people know about me. By the way, my height is wrong on my Wikipedia page and they won’t let me change it. I’m 5’11”, for what it’s worth.”

(He is, for the record)

—

Sam Manson’s home is opulent, decadent in a way that reminds one of a more refined age—not the sleek, modern home of today’s new money, but adorned with historic decor and chandeliers.

“Grotesque, isn’t it?” Sam tells me when I comment. She’s not a fan of her family’s flaunting of wealth, as much as she enjoys some of the privileges it allows her. Looking at her outfit, an extra long Dumpty Humpty t-shirt and fishnet tights Tucker into dark denim shorts, it’s not hard to believe that she would prefer a more Addams Family aesthetic.

It’s clear from existing comment and from her social media—both personal and a Danny Phantom account—that she is a force to be reckoned with when it comes to her boyfriend, whom she’s known since childhood. I ask her why she and their other friend, Tucker Foley, are behind his verified account.

“Danny’s always been really bad at social media in general,” she tells me, “and we don’t get as overwhelmed by all the comments and messages we get daily. Like…Danny’s fought a ghost king and he’s saved the world but nothing terrifies him more than Twitter.”

—

Never having been above the odd conspiracy theory, considering my career, the first thing I ask Tucker Foley when we gather at his family’s kitchen table is to tell me about r/dannyphantom

“About the subreddit, or what I…” he pauses, “may or may not have done to it?” He grins when he finishes the sentence, in a way that’s a bit sinister.

The subreddit r/dannyphantom was spun off of r/amitypark about a year after the hero’s first appearance, and devolved into chaos shortly before the Disasteroid incident, due to the comments of one u/phantomarchiver on various theory threads.

“You’re all chasing your tails” the user would claim in one thread, and in another a cryptic “if I were you, I would stop looking further into this.”

Tucker recalled how he and his friends came to monitor the subreddit, going in anonymously every now and then to throw off the scent if any theories came too close. He didn’t know u/phantomarchiver’s mysterious but concise comments would eventually cause the members of the subreddit to turn against each other and fight to such an extreme that it now sits nearly empty.

“There are a lot of aspects of keeping huge secrets like this that aren’t fun,” Tucker tells me, “but that. That was fun. It was like a piranha feeding frenzy.”

“Did you intend to take the entire forum down?”

“God, no,” Tucker assured me, “I’m all for discussions, but people were dropping peoples real names, bringing up records of missing people that Phantom could be the ghost of. I’m very pro-free speech, but also very pro-[expletive] around and find out.”

#danny phantom #sam manson #tucker foley #these isn’t even a story idk if they’re even headcanons #i just had fun and it’s just in here #so now you can have it

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awesomefringey · 2 years ago

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Hi Sabine, hope you’re doing well. I’m watching the fandom fall apart and I’ve only been here a year. I’m shaking my head that in just a year, actions by these boys we fell in love with have driven away so many fans. It makes me sad. I’ve watched as many accounts I started following here and on Twitter as I came into the fandom just fall away disillusioned, never to return. NOT unlarrying, just deciding to not give them any more of their attention. It makes me sad.

Hi nonnie, I’m so sorry that the fandom space you created for yourself by following certain blogs and accounts, has become so unreliable for you. I hate to see my friends and moots frustrated too.

I’ve been away most of this week (a bit on and off prior too) and will be for another two, so I don’t have a front seat in this fandom and to what you’re experiencing right now.

But to me, longer than that, maybe since Harry filmed the most lifeless version of “Golden” for the Jingle Bells Ball in 2020, which we now know was around the time he signed for DWD, and Full Stop had drafted out what we now know as the most tiring movie promotional/bearding stunt of his career - there’s been a shift in everything. Don’t get me wrong, I’m sure Harry’s fully in on it, but I’ve got the feeling Harry’s insight on his fanbase is based on reports from his management who will use mere stats of engagement but won’t get into the “mood” behind online traffic. I have the feeling Harry is absolutely unaware how foolish he looks to so many, and that he would comment on spitgate - of all things - confirmed it to me.

Louis on the other hand, would still wear a golden H on his shirt for his 160k (possibly physically more) worldwide viewers of his livestream concert in December 2020 knowing Harry would kick off Holivia two weeks after, and Louis would still choose Harry’s tattoos fan art as canvasses on Spotify for the “Walls anniversary” more than a month later.

So I personally experienced Louis as the comforting one, I was leaning on him for carrying us through this shit. Until he wouldn’t anymore. Latest when he signed with BMG and committed to a certain image, a certain genre and a certain clear promotional narrative for himself. Louis still loves to play mind games with Larries, the Houston/Seattle/28 days apart/bluegreen shirt coding is cute. Yet, Louis also used a fan’s kid to try and end any doubts about his fatherhood within his newly growing fanbase of very young Louies on TikTok.

It’s been a very calculating move by his team and it proves, not only Harry is going to remain closeted but so will Louis (and his efforts can secure it with or without a gf).

And I think with that realization a lot of fans aren’t willing to stay. Either because they joined the fandom to be around for “the end” and just don’t see the fun anymore, or because they don’t feel like Louis and Harry actually want our support at this point. (And millions of other reasons, I’m just using the most common ones.) And while I won’t miss the first, the latter are the most passionate and invested ones. Those are the ones I follow too and it’s heartbreaking to see them stepping back from exhaustion. Especially the bigger accounts on here get sooo many anon asks, so many unfiltered angry, sad, doubting messages, most we don’t even put out there. Being exposed to so many different emotions in your inbox can be thrilling and exciting most of the time, but also super tiring on low days.

I think to step back for a bit, taking a break when you need it, is absolutely fair and crucial to maintain your health. We underestimate the hard work it is, to be an active member in this fandom. The amount of time we spend on here while having a real life and school and jobs, the stress we go through, the emotional rollercoaster day in and day out, the ever lingering fear of missing out… I feel breaks are wonderful too, because they allow us to remember what led us here to begin with, the pure love we have for both. So I hope those accounts/bloggers you’ve seen leaving, might return stronger too one day. Either way, I hope you’re ok! 💜

#ask #fandom experience

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ikroah · 3 years ago

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(Do ya need any help?) No help wanted. (Do ya need any help?) No help wanted. (Do ya need any help? Do ya need any help?) I can handle this job all by myself! —“No Help Wanted,” The Carlisles (1952)

It Keeps Right On a-Hurtin’ #19 - Freeside III

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Read IKROAH on Archive of Our Own

Notes / Original Pencils / Transcript:

Notes

Hi! This issue went through some pretty significant revisions over time, so I figure it’ll be fun to go over them real quick so you can get a glimpse into the writing and scripting process behind the scenes.

When this issue was originally scripted, Agnes would have lost the caps needed to get to Vegas in a much “nicer” way. As she took the money from Garret, he would lament that Agnes wouldn’t be around to do more work for her because he was hoping she would help shake down a few debtors of his around Freeside (a reference to the in-game quest “Debt Collector”). Then he would mention that without her, he’ll have to use the Wrangler’s usual bounty hunter, who’s a lot more trigger-happy and tends to collect debts in blood instead of caps. From there, the final page of the issue would have been the same, with Agnes being cagey about why she doesn’t have the money for Cass and the implication being Agnes paid off those debts out of the goodness of her heart.

This was very wisely rewritten for several reasons. The first is that the gesture was uncharacteristically altruistic of Agnes: she’d probably be disturbed by Garret’s flippant ruthlessness, but it’s ultimately not her problem and she doesn’t even know these people. Furthermore, she slaughtered the Khans in Boulder City because one of them merely helped Benny shoot her. I can’t imagine her putting off her pursuit of Benny just so she could do something nice. The second reason is that the original angle was extraordinarily boring, as I’m sure your eyes almost glazed over reading that first paragraph. It’s mostly just Garret talking to himself, and Agnes suddenly deciding she cares for no good reason. And that, the no good reason, is the third reason I rewrote the issue. It’s important that Agnes and Cass don’t have enough to get to Vegas, so finding the right excuse was thematically crucial.

So I thought of the rewrite, where Agnes blows up at Garret for being a creep towards her instead. The emotional rise of her indignation boiling over and getting the better of her while she’s talked down to and objectified by Garret as he holds the purse strings was way more suspenseful and interesting, and of course her deciding to punch him out and walk is a much more compelling sacrifice and character moment than the original script’s random act of kindness. This new script also manages to foreground her transness in a way I prefer to never pass up (and believe me, I’ve gotten more than a few James Garrets in my Twitter DMs in my time).

The tricky part about the new script was adequately conveying what happened without showing it, because the smash cut to the outside of the Wrangler is a lot more effective than showing the actual attack. It’s a somber, frustrating, miserable moment for Agnes, by the end of the issue the momentary catharsis of cleaning Garret’s clock is already gone, so omitting the image of the punch itself is intentional. In the first rewrite, Agnes was even more cagey about what happened in the Wrangler, but too little detail and it sounded like she just murdered him. Having Agnes state that she doesn’t want to take money from him, and coloring a little blood on her knuckles, lets it read better without holding the hand too much.

So never let it be said that the first draft is always the best draft...I find myself rereading my master script document often and making changes and revisions where they’re needed, especially since so many scripts like this one are written a very long time in advance.

On a lighter note, it’s good to be back! It’s been so long since I’ve completely drawn and colored an issue myself that I worried about whether I could still handle it. Really happy with how this issue came out, so I think I certainly still can. And more are on the way!

Also, the old Mexican woman in the group shot on the second page is Emilia Vasquez, a character created by @socksual-innuendos who would absolutely be chatting up Beatrix Russell in this or any given canon. It’s hard to work in cameo appearances like this because of how few group shots normally come up in IKROAH, but we’ll be in Freeside a while yet so maybe we’ll get more yet.

Original Pencils (click for full size)

This was a really fun issue to pencil. The layout was simple but really gave me a lot to work with in terms of pose and expression, and it gave me the opportunity for a rare crowd shot where I get to draw a bunch of different characters at once. There’s also a lot of close-ups, especially on the second page, where I got to flex more of my technical drawing ability (look at Agnes’ teeth! That whole sequence was just “fun with render distance”). You can see a few spots where I left myself blanks to Frankenstein complete panels together later, on the pages where repetition was artistically important. That’s the one thing really tricky about drawing in pencil on paper...there’s no copy-and-pasting and no layering. Everything’s gotta be as-is, so I plan ahead for what I can do digitally.

I also neglected a lot of detailed backgrounds in this issue intentionally. Inspired by Shrimp’s lovely guest art on the previous issue, I wanted to experiment with much more pop-art backgrounds that are more of an “abstract compositional artistic gestalt” on the page as opposed to every panel being a realistic camera-shot. In short, that meant I was fooling around with the juxtaposition of different colors to convey mood, and was more concerned with looking interesting as opposed to looking realistic and deep. Whether to draw the entire background as-is is something I always deliberate on with each panel because there’s a nagging part of me that thinks gradient or simple backgrounds is a lazy cop-out (and sometimes it can be) but I really like how I utilized the colored backgrounds here, especially with how they complement the tone shift on the third page, which doesn’t have the pop-color backgrounds at all.

Transcript

INT. THE ATOMIC WRANGLER CASINO, a dimly-lit dive where one half of its sibling proprietorship JAMES GARRET is behind the bar, grinning wide.

JAMES: Hey! There’s my favorite headhunter! You get the talent I asked for?

In front of the bar is AGNES SANDS, hands in her pockets, head turned back towards three people—well, two people and one robot—behind her. They are OLD BEN, the ghoul BEATRIX RUSSELL, and FISTO.

OLD BEN: Hello.

BEATRIX: Hiya.

FISTO: NEW USER WARRANTY AGREEMENTS ARE AVAILABLE.

FISTO looms over AGNES as GARRET continues.

JAMES: Thank God. If we didn't get that sexbot before long, management would have been terribly upset.

AGNES: Aren’t you management?

JAMES: Well, yes, but what I mean is that it's bad for business to not be meeting my needs. Speaking as management, I mean. My need to meet the needs of our clientele.

AGNES: ...right. Just pay me.

JAMES: Of course, of course.

Beat. JAMES keeps grinning, eyeing AGNES while she awkwardly waits.

AGNES: Well?

JAMES: You know, I’ve been thinking—you’ve already gone through the trouble of recruiting some very special talent for the Wrangler...and in the process, I just couldn't help but notice your particular...talents.

As JAMES continues his pitch, AGNES realizes where he’s going with this. He’d better not be going where she thinks he’s going with this.

JAMES: I mean—a leather domme, an old smooth talker, and, uh, Fisto...as you can see, we get a lot of niche requests—

He’s going there. AGNES interrupts, seething.

AGNES: Give. Me. My money. James.

JAMES: Listen, what I'm trying to say is that if you need money, there's a lot more I'd—that is, you could be making here.

JAMES continues, oblivious to AGNES’ mounting offense.

JAMES: I'm telling you Agnes, there's a lucrative local market here for just the kind of experience that you can provide! Believe me, I'd know. You're a little dinged up, and older, to be fair, so we're not talking premium rates or anything...but you still wouldn't believe what people would pay here for just fifteen minutes with a—

EXT. ATOMIC WRANGLER, nighttime. Neon signs and streetlights bask the streets of FREESIDE in a warm gold glow. ROSE OF SHARON CASSIDY leans against a streetlight pole just outside the casino.

After a moment, AGNES exits the Wrangler.

CASS: Took you long enough. I wanna get out of here and see the strip already.

AGNES continues trudging past CASS, into the empty street.

AGNES: Come on. I don’t have the money.

CASS: What!? What do you mean you don't, did that asshole not pay us?

AGNES rubs her knuckles, a chunky bloodstain already fading from her right leather glove.

AGNES: No. And he's not going to. And I don't want him to. We'll have to get the money somewhere else, that's all.

AGNES continues her march away from the Wrangler while CASS remains against the streetlight pole, aghast.

CASS: Somewhere else...? Agnes!...but then how are we—Agnes! Agnes, god damn it, what did you do? God damn it!

#fallout #fallout new vegas #fnv #courier six #rose of sharon cassidy #james garret #fisto #beatrix russell #old ben #freeside #atomic wrangler #volume 02 #19 #ikroah archive

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eryiss · 2 years ago

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Gold, In Triplicate

Summary: High off his Olympic victory, Laxus wakes up in his dorm with the hazy memory of a man by his side. He consigned it to the past, but twitter had other ideas.

Notes: Hi all. Day 6 of @fuckyeahfraxus Fraxus Week. It's an athletic romance this time, and gets a little spicy at times but nothing explicit. This is a fun and self indulgent one, hope you enjoy it. Also, I’m uploading it now becuse apparently Ao3 wanted to publish the draft chapter at random, thanks to @jemmahazelnut for letting me know.

Links: Ao3, FFN

Gold, In Triplicate

London, 2012

Laxus blinked himself awake, the room around him a blurry mess.

His entire body was aching and protesting against movement, but that always happened after a big fight. He stretched his arms and rolled his shoulders back, wincing a little at the wear of his muscles and the burning of his headache. He was as hungover as he had ever been, and he let out a groan as the unfamiliar blankets pooled out around him. It took him a moment to remember where he was; his dorm room of the Olympics Village. Oh, yeah. Everything came rushing back to him, and an unbitten smile stretched over him.

Gold. He had won the gold medal. He was the Olympic boxing world champion.

A rush of pride flooded him, which was quickly crippled by the aching headache. He ran a hand through his hair, the haze of what happened last night parting and allowing him to remember his fight. It had been tough, but he had fought hard and won the gold. The American had been knocked out, and Laxus had won for Japan.

The rest of the day had been an unfamiliar rush of things. He had done press interviews and photo ops, he'd had to hand in his medal to the Olympic Council so that they could safely get it to his country without damage nor risk of theft, and then he'd been dragged into a crowd of cheering athletes and coaches who had applauded his efforts and made him feel like a king. It was early in the competition, and he had brought home the first gold, so he had been the man of the hour. He'd drunk more than ever before and hadn't had to pay for a single one. The night at the bar was still a haze, but Laxus knew it had been amazing. He felt it deep in his gut.

Wordlessly, he stood up and padded to his shower, wondering if his drunk self had cleaned up before passing out, because the room was as tidy as it had ever been. But once he was under the hot spray of the water, he didn't care.

A champion. He was a world champion.

His opponent, Orga, had been a beast of a fighter. He wasn't a nasty fighter, but he had power and relentless enthusiasm that made him a danger to fight against. It had been a hard won victory, and that made it so much sweeter.

As he was lathering up his body with soap, trying to get the now revolting scent of booze off him, a hazy memory struck him. Hands had been roaming over his body, kneading and pinching and groping him without shame. Laxus frowned, the latter half of yesterday still obscured but the phantom touches still remained. He had been pushed against a wall and kissed, this mystery figure being pretty damn handsy.

There was no face to the man, and Laxus was pretty sure he wasn't so hungover he'd missed someone in his bed when he woke. Maybe it was at the bar; someone had wanted a turn getting up close and personal with the gold medal winning boxer.

Laxus couldn't blame them. Athletes were sexy, and when they won they were hard to resist. It was why the Olympics had such a reputation for athlete's screwing each other.

He indulged in a little fantasy about who this man could be, and left the shower with a clearer head and a satisfied buzz in his balls. With a towel wrapped around his waist, he found his phone had been left on the bathroom counter. He tapped on it and his notifications were full, mainly from people congratulating him. There was one that stood out, sent from Bickslow, a Japanese gymnast who Laxus had bunked with the last time they'd competed in the same league. It was just a link to a Tweet, which Laxus would look at later.

Stretching his back, he dried himself off and pulled on a tee and some sweats. His room really was clean, with the clothes of the night before folded and put over the back of the chair. He definitely hadn't done that. No amount of alcohol could get Laxus to be that responsible.

That paled in significance to what was on his dresser, though. A bottle of water, two aspirin, and a handwritten note. He walked to them, picked up the note and frowned.

'Hope your headache isn't too bad, Champion. Take these, or the deal's off. x'

He scrunched up his face. Someone had been in his room, that was clear, and it was probably the guy who had kissed him so roughly last night. He didn't care about that - all it meant was that he'd had a good, fun night of celebrations - but what did make him think was the deal. He had made a deal that he didn't remember with someone he couldn't put a face to. This was why he didn't get drunk too often.

But the call of the aspirin outweighed the confusion, so he took the pills and a swig from the water, before collapsing onto his bed. His coach would call him at some point, so he wanted to have some time to himself.

Only when he had mindlessly scrolled through his phone for a while did he see Bickslow's text again. He clicked it, and his stomach seemed to fall.

'RUMOUR: Boxing Champion LAXUS DREYAR Celebrates Win With Swedish Superstar FREED JUSTINE. PICS INCLUDED.'

The picture was a blurry one, of him and another man walking into the Japanese dorm building, Laxus with his arm over the man's waist. Even with the crappy resolution, Laxus was looking at the man with a beaming smile he could only manage when drunk. And, God dammit, Laxus' hand was actually resting on the man's ass without an ounce of shame.

Memories of the night fluttered back to Laxus, cutting through the haze. He was in the bar and happened upon the Swedish athlete who was celebrating a teammate's win in Judo. The Swedish guy and Laxus got to talking, and Laxus began to drunkenly flirt with the guy. He was hot, Laxus was on a victory high, it made sense.

The Swedish guy - Freed, if the tweet was right - hadn't been drinking because he hadn't competed in his sport yet, and he'd let Laxus spout all that bullshit and laughed along with him.

There were still gaps in Laxus' memory. He knew that Freed had walked him back to his dorm so he could get back safely, which was obviously when the picture had been taken. He knew he had kissed Freed in his room, and Freed had kissed him back before stopping it and telling Laxus that he was too drunk to do it. He knew Freed had left at some point, and that was it.

And then there was the mystery deal. What had that- oh.

He has been in the bathroom, hugging the toilet bowl with Freed leaning against the wall with an amused smile. He hadn't vomited, but felt like he was close, and Freed had said he wasn't leaving until he got it out of his system.

"What's yer sport?" Laxus had slurred the words out.

"Swimming," Freed had answered, and Laxus had unashamedly looked Freed up and down.

"You gonna wear those tight little shorts then? Fucking… what are they called? Speedo!" He had grinned with his teeth, and Freed chuckled and nodded. "Bet cha look real nice like that. Real hot. You should show me, so I know. As a prize for winning."

"You got a gold medal. That's enough of a prize already."

"I can always have more," Laxus had purred, and then ruined it by retching and hovering over the toilet. "C'mon, the worlds gonna see it, why don't I get a preview?"

"You're an amusing man when you're drunk, Laxus," Freed laughed, patting Laxus on the shoulder. "I have a proposition for you. If you come to my race, and cheer for me with the same enthusiasm you've shown me while kissing, then perhaps I'll end up back here and you can see me in my uniform. And if you're sober, then perhaps we can continue that kiss."

"You want me to cheer for another country?" Laxus laughed. "You wanna start a war."

"There's no conflict of interest, your country didn't qualify," Freed had stated, and Laxus chuckled at how pragmatic he had been. "If I win, which I will, I could probably be convinced to take my uniform off. I don't know if that would influence you either way, but I thought you should know."

"You flirting with me, Swede?"

"Yes," Freed nodded, and Laxus grinned. "Are the terms acceptable?"

"Aw hell yeah," Laxus said, before he vomited his guts out.

The memory somehow made Laxus both cringe and grin, a feeling of excitement bubbling up in his stomach. It had been a long time since he had thought about anything other than boxing, and now that he had won the world championship title, he felt he deserved a treat. His management team and coach would be pissy that he would be fuelling the rumours, but he didn't care. He had a pragmatically flirty Swedish swimmer to flirt with, and there was no time like the present.

He messages his manager, telling him he needed Freed's contact info and tickets to his race. He got a response within the hour with the ticket and Freed's number. He also was messaged by his PR team, telling him they're only gonna deal with the media storm of two athletes from different countries getting together because he had won the gold the night before.

Ignoring all that, he screenshotted the tickets and sent a picture of them to Freed, with a message attached.

To: Freed The Swede

Gonna hold up my end of the bargain. You better do the same. (Attached: 1 Image)

From: Freed The Swede

I will. See you soon, Champion.

To: Freed The Swede

Can't wait, Swimmer boy.

----

Brazil: 2016

"Come on," Laxus murmured under his breath. "You can do it. You fucking run this sport. Fucking do it."

It was an unspoken fact in athletics circles that Laxus didn't route for his own country in swimming. Every other sport, he wanted Japan to totally dominate, but when it came to swimming, he only had eyes for the Swedish team. Well, not the team actually. He was only going to be cheering for Freed. Nobody questioned it, and nobody talked about it, but everyone knew why.

Laxus and Freed weren't exactly keeping their relationship a secret. They never hid away, nor did they lie about it if asked, but they were never going to be the types to shout it from the rooftops. Living in different countries also meant that people weren't likely to stumble across them on a date, which helped with dissuading the gossip and rumours from spreading. That, combined with the accepted rule between athletes that you don't sell out anyone to the press, meant that Laxus could cheer for his boyfriend without anyone questioning it, even if he did get a few funny looks.

He didn't care about those looks, not when his boyfriend was competing.

Freed was at home in the water, all his elegance and poise narrowed down to a single goal. Years of practice had honed him into a machine in the water, and he cut through the pool with calm aggression. All Laxus could see was his back and his arm, but he knew for sure that Freed's face would be firm and serious under the water.

"Come on," Laxus whispered as Freed entered his final length.

Their relationship wasn't the most conventional. As they both competed internationally, neither could exactly leave their country to live with the other, but they made it work. After the 2012 Olympics had finished - and after Freed had made good on his side of the deal and given Laxus a night he would never forget - they had been given a few months off from training, and had spent that time become close, spending time at each other's country and getting to know each other well. Once training began, they had to return home and began a long distance relationship.

Now, just shy of four years later, they had perfected the art of long distance. They had individual months where they would visit the other's home, they always tried to compete in the same leagues so they could overlap their visits, and they made sure to keep in contact through video calls multiple times a week.

But when they were together, it was like fire. Explosive, passionate, and roaring. That's how Laxus felt around Freed, especially when Freed was competing.

As always with Freed's sport, it was over before it began. The end of the race buzzer went off, and Laxus was looking towards the monitor with the scores. Laxus hated this about swimming; how everyone looked so close to each other that you couldn't tell who had won just by looking. The screen showed a repeat of the end of the race, and a dotted line appeared to show who had won.

Freed.

Freed had won the gold goddamn medal.

A feeling somehow more intense than when Laxus had won his own gold bloomed, and Laxus was on his feet with a cheer that ripped open his throat. Some people were looking at him, but the only one of them who mattered was Freed. He met Laxus' gaze and did a ridiculous little salute, and Laxus grinned at him with a wink. He knew exactly how Freed was feeling and felt so goddamn proud of him that he couldn't put it into words. Freed had won his first gold, and Laxus was so damn happy for him.

He watched appreciatively as Freed climbed out of the pool, not subtle as he checked his boyfriend out, and watched as he was dragged into the press corner to be interviewed by local media. He was speaking Swedish, which Laxus always loved, and he found himself unable to stop smiling as Freed began his lap of honour.

It was late in the night when he could actually see him in person.

"You were so fucking good," Laxus whispered as he peppered kisses down Freed's jawbone. "You any idea how good you were? You fucking destroyed those bastards. Fucking badass motherfucker."

"Me winning makes you cuss a lot," Freed panted, hands roaming and pulling at Laxus' hair. "I like it, you should do it more often."

"You won the gold. You get anything you want if you win the gold," Laxus promised.

"Does that include taking you to bed while you wear your official trunks?" Freed asked, and Laxus laughed and nodded.

"You better not stain 'em, I gotta wear 'em next week."

"What if staining them is my goal? I'm quite fond of the idea of marking what's mine" Freed asked, and Laxus grinned, picked Freed up by the ass and threw him onto the bed, crawling over him and kissing him like there was nothing more important to him in the world.

They spent the next two days inseparable, Laxus ignoring the repeated calls from his coach that he should be in the gym. If Laxus had his way, he wouldn't be away from his boyfriend for the rest of the Olympic period, but Freed said that he needed to get back to the gym so he could win his fight and maintain his championship. When Laxus had said 'fuck the championship' Freed had joked that he only dated gold medal winners, but then gave him a look that said he needed to focus on his sport.

The night before Laxus' fight, Freed and Laxus had sat together in the cafeteria with their legs hooked under the table. They had simply talked to each other, ate together, and Laxus hadn't been able to stop smiling. He loved being with Freed.

Too engrossed in each other, they missed someone taking a picture. They didn't miss the headline that was published the next day.

A TALE OF TWO TRUNKS: Swedish Swimming and Japanese Boxing Champs Look Flirty In Candid Snap. Is This The Start Of An International Sporting Romance?

----

Tokyo: 2021

Neither won a gold medal that time. Laxus couldn't stop thinking about it.

Freed, at least, had won a bronze for his sport. Laxus had come fifth in the tournament, and he wouldn't pretend losing in his home country didn't feel like a kick to the gut. But the worst thing was that he had lost because he had been completely outplayed. There was no fluke on his opponent's side, nor a dodgy call by the ref. He had been utterly outclassed and outplayed, and that felt really goddamn crappy.

Laxus had always known his career had an expiration date, and that in terms of sporting, early thirties meant he was getting too old to keep up. Knowing that it was inevitable didn't make it sting any less.

But, even if he felt like crap, he watched the rest of the boxing from the sidelines; the final match was between the German guy, who was the favourite, and the underdog from Sweden. Freed was sitting beside him, and Laxus could tell the man was conflicted between staying calm for Laxus' sake and cheering on his country's competitor.

"He's good," Laxus murmured, absently stroking Freed's hand. "A lot of raw talent."

"I've heard good things about him. His name's Natsu," Freed agreed, bumping his thigh against Laxus'. "Lacks discipline, though. Believes that he's unbeatable and doesn't care about hiding it. Needs someone to whip him into shape. Like someone else did, or so your coach told me," Freed teased, and Laxus chuckled. "Rumour has it, he drove the assistant coach to quit, and they couldn't replace him in time. This loss will be good for him."

"You think he's gonna lose?" Laxus looked towards Freed.

"I've watched you fight enough to know a winner and a loser. He's putting up a good fight, but the German guy will win in the end," Freed said it firmly.

He was right, and Natsu was knocked out five minutes later. It was the last match of the night, so once it was over and all the interviews were done, people started to file out and leave. Freed went to do the same, but something nagged at Laxus and told him to stick around for a while. He asked if Freed could meet him later, and Freed looked at him sadly for a moment before nodding and leaving. The rest of the spectators left, and Laxus kept looking towards Natsu and his coach.

An idea came to him, one that was a risk but felt perfect.

After climbing over the barrier separating spectators from athletes, he walked towards Natsu and his coach: Gildarts. Nobody stopped him, perhaps because they recognised him, and he waited to be acknowledged by either of them.

"We ain't doin' interviews right- Laxus?" Gildarts frowned when he turned to Laxus. "What do you want?"

He said it with a small amount of hostility, and Laxus didn't blame him. Laxus had been the man to beat for the last eight years and had likely beaten a couple of Gildarts' competitors and cut off their Olympic dreams before they could really begin. To placate them both, he put two hands up in a mock surrender. Neither of them seemed entirely calmed, so Laxus looked Natsu up and down.

"You okay?" He asked,

"Fine," Natsu snapped.

"You got talent," Laxus praised, and Natsu frowned at him. "You ain't exactly using it yet, but you got it."

"I could beat your ass, old man," Natsu claimed, jumping up before Gildarts dragged him down and glared at him.

"Let's walk, Laxus," Gildarts instructed, and the two of them walked across the room to somewhere Natsu couldn't overhear them. Once they were far enough away, Gildarts turned to him and said. "What exactly do you want, Dreyar?"

"Your kid's got talent," Laxus complimented, glancing towards Natsu. "But he's too cocky and needs someone to knock him down and make him put in the work. If he keeps thinking he's hot shit, he ain't gonna go anywhere."

"He got further than you did," Gildarts rebutted, which hurt to hear.

"I'm old in this sport, the kid's a newbie," Laxus shrugged. "Doesn't change the fact if he doesn't do a one eighty on his attitude he's fucked. Needs some tough love. Needs a guy who can knock him on his ass."

"What is the point of-"

"I heard you're looking for an assistant coach," Laxus shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "I was just like him when I started, and it took a guy to spell out how much of a jackass I was being until I started living up to my talent. I know how to deal with him because I used to be him. I can whip the kid into shape, and I know once I do that, you'll make him a champ."

Gildarts looked at him, silently. "Why?"

"I can't compete again. It'll be like trying to cling onto my youth. Ain't a good look," Laxus didn't meet Gildarts' eyes, and when he didn't get a reply Laxus relented. "I don't wanna leave the sport, but I know if I keep competing, I become the guy who doesn't know when to give in. If I coach, I get to fight and I get to keep my dignity."

"And I suppose being in the same country as your boyfriend doesn't hurt the prospect either?" Gildarts laughed, and Laxus blushed a little. "Tell ya what. You come to my gym in Sweden sometime in September, you fight Natsu. If you can knock him on his ass like you say he needs, you get the job. Sound good?"

"Sounds great," Laxus nodded.

He met up with Freed later in the evening, and as they always did when they were in Tokyo, they found themselves in Ueno Park. They had walked mindlessly as Laxus explained what had happened in the gym between him and Gildarts, and how that something inside of him yearned to coach. For the rest of his life, Laxus would probably remember the look of shy delight on Freed's face from when he told him he was probably going to be moving to Sweden. Over the last year, the long distance had lost its fun and they both had been wanting to see each other on a more consistent basis.

Every time he thought about it, he smiled. The idea of waking up each morning in bed with Freed, stepping out onto the balcony to have breakfast while overlooking the mountains - because Freed actually lived in the goddamn mountains! - was paradise. He could have the best of his sports world and the world he had with Freed.

"We had our first date in Japan here," Freed commented, walking to overlook the lake and leaning on the railing. Laxus did the same, shoulder resting against Freed's. "You insisted we have sushi and tried to convince me that wasabi wasn't actually that spicy."

"I succeeded in that, actually," Laxus corrected, grinning at the memory.

"I suppose you did," Freed nodded. "But I've always loved this park. I think it's special. And, considering what we now know, it seems appropriate to do this now."

Laxus was going to ask what Freed had planned, but only watched as Freed reached into his jacket pocket. He pulled out a small, black box which he clicked open. It was held open far enough away from Freed so that they could both see what was held inside of it. A simple gold ring.

"I expect you wouldn't want the spectacle of me getting down on one knee," Freed continued, and Laxus heard a slight tinge of apprehension in his words. "I know this is something you'd want to do in private, but I told myself that when the moment was right that-"

"Ask me, Freed," Laxus said, voice tight. "I'll say yes."

"Will you marry me, Laxus?"

"Oh fuck yes," Laxus gasped, and pulled Freed into a slow, loving kiss under the starlight. He slid on the ring, and it was the only gold that Laxus had ever had that was worth a damn.

BREAKING: The Olympics' Favourite Couple Seen Kissing In Public With A Ring! Is Marriage On The Way For Sport's Favourite Power Couple?

#Fraxus Week 2022 #Fraxus Week #Fraxus #Freed Justine #Laxus Dreyar #Fairy tail #Fanfic #Writing #Writing Event #One Shot #Modern AU #Celebrity AU #Athlete AU

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washymylifeaway · 3 years ago

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hihi~ have you read any read-worthy social media aus? i've been scouring the internet for like- tumblr aus, youtube aus, streamer aus, wrong number aus BUT THEYRE JUST SO HARD TO FIND ;-; thankss~ :)

I'm so sorry this took so long and it ended up being half-assed T.T it's just been sitting in my drafts for far too long and I just wanted it out JFASKASFH. I'm ngl, I haven't read a couple of these BUT I thought the summaries were fun so I added them in HAHAHAH. That being said, I just tried to stick to the AU's you listed cause tbh idk what classifies as a true SMAU LOL.

As always, pls check WARNINGS, TAGS, and SUMMARIES for fics before reading and make sure you’re taking care of yourselves (since mental health is key!) Stay safe besties <3

ctrl f for youtube, twitter, streamer, and wrong number!

press play by airblends (T) 3k /MatsuHana/ YouTube, “Makki, you want in on our intro?” Oikawa gestures with his hand.“Nah, I already promised Issei we’d do one for his channel. There are only so many intros a man can film in a day.”“Issei, huh?” Oikawa’s lips settle into a knowing smirk. Iwaizumi coughs into his fist, gently prying the camera from Oikawa’s hands to turn it off. Hanamaki’s face burns up, his cheeks a fiery red. “We’re just friends,” he says, the phrase rolling off his tongue by sheer reflex. He has lost count of how many times he’s typed it into the comment section beneath his videos. At this point he might just start to believe it himself.

Liked, Commented and Subscribed by Royal Society of Pandas (Abarcelos) (T) 45.7k /KuroKen/ YouTube, " 'Hey, Bokuto?' Kuroo interrupted his friend. They were both sitting on his couch, Bokuto telling some silly story that happened the previous weekend and Kuroo reading the comments on his latest video. He was quite happy with how it turned out – a lot of people seemed to enjoy it and he even saw a few memes on tumblr titled ‘The actual signs as Kuroo’s signs’. There was only one thing bothering him. 'Yeah, bro?' Bokuto answered, a little annoyed for having his great story be interrupted. 'Do you know who Kozume Kenma is?' " -- Everyone is a youtuber and tumblr ships KuroKen. A lot.

Japan's most subscribed by NeverNothing (T) 3.6k /KuroKen/ YouTube + Twitter, Kuroo Tetsurou @blacktetsurou changed his bio : volleyball player, co-owner of Bouncing Ball Corp. and so much more ;)

livestream by sketchedsmiles (T) 14.1k /SakuAtsu/ YouTube + Streamer, Sakusa is used to attention. As a full-time student and a part-time streamer, his videos of gameplay garner thousands of views on a daily basis.Still, nothing can prepare him for what it's like to have the attention of Miya Atsumu. Atsumu is many things: chatty, endearing, earnest. But he's more observant than most give him credit for.And he might be the only person who reminds Sakusa to take care of himself.

stan twitter, meet hinata shoyou by ichweissnichtauch (T) 13k /Hinata LOL/ Twitter, meiji milk pls sponsor me @kageyamatobio see you on the court @ninjashoyou 6.5k Retweets 31.6k Likes 2.0k Comments

here comes the sun @ninjashoyou lets do it baby i know the law 3.6k Retweets 27.3k Likes 1.8k Comments

or, hinata shoyou's v-league debut, as seen on twitter (ft. snapshots of v-twt).

People Will Say We're in Love by tirralirra (T) 9.5k /SakuAtsu/ Twitter-ish, “Saku...Atsu? What does that even mean?” Atsumu says, squinting at the device. People seem to think that Sakusa and Atsumu are in love, so they come up with a list of things to do to deter that. Maybe it would work...if they weren’t in love.

Ignoring the forest by NeverNothing (T) 5.9k /KuroKen/ Twitter + YouTube?, Where the public collectively agrees to ignore the signs that actor Kuroo Tetsurou is dating his childhood friend. Kuroo Tetsurou @therealtetsurouFilming was fun, but I’m glad to be back to my fav pudding head <3 #noplacelikehome #KURASE #filming [photo: a suitcase was in focus with another bag and a jacket thrown atop standing beside the back of a couch. A head of badly dyed hair can be seen, face turned away and rest of the body hidden by the couch.]

Anything In Between by todxrxki (T) 2.2k /KuroKen/ Twitter + YouTube, Kozume Kenma just wants to be a normal gaming YouTuber, but when his idiot boyfriend butts in and gets his fans speculating about their relationship, it seems that even that's impossible. / Post manga timeskip, told exclusively through social media and texting.

Silver Lining by Mari_Writes (T) 2.4k /BokuAka/ Twitter, Bokuto Koutarou is a professional volleyball player who has become one of Japan’s most famous and beloved athletes. He is active on social media, interacts with fans and is usually journalists’ first pick for an interview.But not much is known about Bokuto’s personal life. That is, until he accidentally posts a photo on Twitter featuring another man, dressed in nothing but a pair of short-shorts and glasses.This is how the world met the love of Bokuto Koutarou’s life.

Mystery Guy by Pepper_Moon (T) 11.1k /TsukkiYama/ Twitter + YouTube/Streamer, Popular YouTuber YamaGucci is livestreaming one day, when a voice off-camera speaks and makes him flustered. Let's just say what comes next is pure chaos.

and i press you to the pages of my heart by volchitsae (T) 13.9k /SakuAtsu/ YouTube, Atsumu scrolls around on YouTube, feeling like he's spiralling a little into the odd corners of it when some recommended videos are "I'm a Plague Doctor and You've Been Diagnosed with the Black Plague ASMR" or videos of people eating truly remarkable amounts of food. No judgement (maybe a little bit, he's no angel), but mukbangs make him hungry and whispering roleplay makes his ears itch. A video called "Study With Me: Pomodoro Technique #1" appears and he clicks on it.The channel's name is endomiphins, and the thumbnail features a view of a man from the neck downward at his desk, notebook and laptop open.Atsumu presses play. -- Sakusa is a barista by day, ASMR and study YouTuber by night, and Atsumu falls a little in love with both.

call me maybe by totooru (T) 33.6k /MatsuHana/ Wrong number, Hanamaki texts the wrong number when trying to extort tips out of Oikawa in order to defeat Iwaizumi in arm wrestling, and then continues to text the witty stranger who had answered.

Yuanfen by OwlBeDamned (T) 10.7k /KyouHaba/ Wrong number, [sent at 8:14 A.M.] Oikawa-san, I don't care how hungover you are, please come clean my apartment (the one you wrecked last night with your partying) and collect the puppy you left in my living room. I expect you at 9. Or else, there'll be consequences.[sent at 8:16 A.M.] who is this and how the fuck did u get my number?---"It makes sense if you think about it," Iwaizumi told him. "A soulmate line is the first sentence your significant other will tell you when you first encounter them. But the books never specified whether that encounter had to be physical."Kyoutani frowned, looking at his upperclassman in wonder. "Iwaizumi-san, this means...?""Yeah," he chuckled back, pointing at his cellphone, "that guy right there is your soulmate."

You'd fit my lonely arms so perfectly by boxofwonder (G) 25.1k /DaiSuga/ Wrong number, “Oh. You're. Not Asahi.” Calmed down enough that he can speak again, Daichi takes a deep breath, his smile settling on his face easily and wide. “Not as far as I know, no.”Suga accidentally calls a stranger instead of his best friend, tells him all about his burned batch of cookies before realising, and that particular mistake might turn out the best one he ever made.

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enigma-absolute · 3 years ago

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10, 17, and 18 for the Eddsworld asks! >:3c

10. What do you think is the funniest joke in the series?

Damn, that’s a GOOD question. So much so that I had look back on a couple eddisodes to make me think, but here’s my response.

I think it’s in the comics.

Not that the show doesn’t have some great jokes, but the funniest of them for me are within the comics. Specifically with Edd’s last era prior to Space Face releasing, and a little into the start of Legacy. They were how I got into Eddsworld in the first place.

A good chunk of my improvised humour was learned from Edd’s ability to make anything a visual or linguistic pun. I get more of a chuckle out of stuff such as ‘immature cheese’, ‘wrapper in my pocket’, ‘Dr Names’ and that one arc of Matt getting an honest-to-god date.

That being said, I loved seeing Tom getting spun around and yeeted by that tank in the Moviemakers montage. Also, from the end of said montage:

Laurel: I wonder what happened to all those space cats... Edd: Well, do you see that tiny speck up in the sky? Laurel: Yeah? Edd: That isn’t them. They’re dead.

Edd’s delivery of that line legit makes me crack a grin and chuckle.

17. Which Eddsworld character do you relate to the most, and why?

Again, good question.

After thinking on it a bit, I think it’d still be Edd, and not just because he’s my favourite.

In the classic era, he’s the artist/animator, the one who initiates the initiative of the episodes and is simultaneously DONE with his friends’ antics AND eggs them on further.

Sounds like my kind of guy.

(Actually, on a writer’s note, Edd taking the initiative for adventures is what I think has been missing from much of Legacy AND Beyond’s writing. He took the initiative to go to Atlantis when Matt lost the fridge keys, and when Tom bought that film camera with all their life savings, he took the initiative of making a film instead of just relying on a 2008 YouTube clickbait video Tom made. His friends started it, sure, but EDD was the one who kept saying ‘alright, let’s go get this stuff done’ AND DID IT.)

(I think I could write a whole thing on how this is really the show’s Writing Engine, and how it started to vanish circa Hammer and Fail Part Two and Space Face, but that’s another day. Or time. Or ask. Speaking of writing…)

18. If you could write an episode, what would it be about?

Oh BOY. Buckle up, I’ve got several ideas swirling in my head and I’m about to pitch them - hell, if any of you think they have standing power, hit me up and we can figure out a way to team up and make them exist!

Suction Cup Man vs Tord’s Giant Robot. It’s a more fully fleshed-out version of the voice-acting post I did for a skit a while back, and I’m unashamed to say that it’s a roughly copied plot of SCM 2 (including references to it and all).

Suction Cup Man gets captured by a mystery man from the future to take down some jerk’s giant robot in the present. Cut to The End Part Two with Tord gloating in the giant robot, and it all goes to chaos from here.

Fun fact about this one: I’ve already handwritten most of the script’s first draft, and have three different endings planned out, but I’m not sure which one would be best for the skit. They’re all good in their own ways, but whilst I had the initial idea to PrynceJJayden of twitter fame, I’m not sure if he’d be accepting of script pitches from other people at this point in time. On top of that, I don’t know if his VA talent who does Tord (@/The_Rey_Rey on twitter) would be keen to do that sort of thing too.

PowerEdd 2: The Devious Drenchings of Doctor H2O. (Formerly titled The Eddvengers, but considering there’s an AU with that name already, this seems more appropriate.)

When a freak science experiment near the antiques store strikes the lads, Edd’s superhero powers return, and this time Tom and Matt join with their own. But their enemy isn’t an evil director or an old friend, but some maniac with a drinking water tank on his head and a desire to sink London into his New Atlantis.

If the name ‘Doctor H2O’ sounds familiar to some of you, he was actually a villain character Edd Gould created! You can find an uncoloured drawing of him from Edd’s old tumblr from about 2011.

This story idea also has some meat to it - lore pages on how their powers worked, old script bits, writing ideas - with the intention of becoming an audio drama as so not to stress out animators. I still have the notebook I scrawled the idea out in from years ago, and I even had some concept art from current-day EW animator Fran Pun!

Unfortunately, as much as the more influential people behind the first attempt had resources, fame and means to make it, this one fell onto the back burner due to unclear plot beats (my fault), no scheduling (this was just a bad habit in general from said people) and one of my co-writers just… not going anywhere with it. Some jokes from him felt a little forced. Gratefully though, I still have the intro scene script somewhere in my drives, and I think it holds up. I’d love to come back to this one someday.

Miniseries: Through the Time Machine

Saloonatics had the Wild West, WTFuture gave us time travel, so what if we went back and forth in time to find our favourite lads having adventures in other points of history?

Before Penguins of Madagascar was my first fandom experience, Phineas and Ferb was my first Fan experience, even just from mostly flash games online and watching the episodes in pieces on YouTube. But what I remembered most was a miniseries of specials where the formula for the show was translated into different time periods and story genres to give a unique flavouring to the stories.

So come on, imagine: Eddsworld Caveman episode. Eddsworld pirates episode. Eddsworld Medieval episode. Even an Eddsworld Y2K Futurism… future… episode. (Look, all I’m saying is that the aesthetic could SLAP.)

Would there be an overarching plot? Not really, they could just be for fun! And I’d love to throw my hat in the ring to try it out. It’d be so much fun!

#chris rambles #theboxfort #eddsworld #good lord this took a while to write up - but thanks for asking pink!#MORE THAN OKAY TO REBLOG!!#enni answers

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1ddotdhq · 4 years ago

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Sun 31 Jan ‘21

Happy Walls Dayyy!!!!!! Today was the first anniversary of our #1 fave debut album of 2020, and we all celebrated, Louis included! Last but best thing first: WE GOT A DEMO!! Louis ended the day by publishing a dreamy clip of a demo of the title song ‘Walls’. His clear voice croons over beautiful sliding electric guitars and background reverberance- if that’s his FIRST draft then he is, as we knew, a GENIUS! AND, the King Himself came on twitter to interact with his “loyal” (his words) subjects (that’s us!). He popped up at first to say that his tour, when it comes around, will be “fucking unbelievable...this is our day!”, and talked about his favorite part of the last year (“the two shows I played”), what he noticed most when performing solo the first times (“the space on stage” ughhhh all the tears), what he was looking forward to after COVID (“everything”) and getting through these times- “remember that everything is going to be better when normality sets back in.” He also explained that while he was gonna put out merch today, he “didn’t want to market the day”, but rather make it “a celebration just for us”. But, uh, the merch will be coming eventually! He then replied that there were “too many greedy fuckers out there” who try turn celebratory events into a “cash grab” (to quote the fan), and harries then got mad at that because THEY were like this must be about Harry (lol uhhhh) and assumed he was shading him and Jeff rather than, I don’t know, his OWN FORMER LABEL?? Cool cool cool, but it’s still Harry’s moth on Spotify, so cope. He told us that his proudest moment on the album was recording the strings for the Walls the Single, that he wouldn’t have approached the process differently because he’s still really proud of the album, that he was most looking forward to us hearing KMM or Walls, that Doncaster is his fav place (to no one’s surprise lmao), and, asked what song he likes to rock out to off HIS ALBUM was like oh hey have I got a rec for you: “Maybe Tomorrow” by the Stereophonics. It goes, “think I'll walk me outside and buy a rainbow smile, but be free” and “maybe tomorrow I’ll find my way home” (huh is there something happening tomorrow that could be linked to... OH. Right. Huh. Well all that is just a coincidence I’m sure, it’s not like Louis ever said he likes to rec songs because he wants us to read into the lyrics or anything... oh wait.)

LTHQ did a insta quiz over on their stories (I only got two questions wrong!) and they did the promised virtual listening party and tweeted along to each song and retweeted fans’ reactions (and all the usernames, larries everywhere, we SEE YOU). Friends of Louis joined in the celebration- Only The Poets, Ashton Irwin of 5SoS fame, Helene Hornyck (“all the love,” she said!), Isaac Anderson and more, and All On The Board made one of their lovely Frankenstein poems which mashing up a bunch of LT1 songs, but in keeping with the theme of the day (and COVID I GUESS) did it as fanart rather than the usual in person board. And all of that was the BORING part of the day, can you BELIEVE?? The FUN part was the Walls Fanart that was chosen to be the new Spotify cards on the official Walls album. As in, they are up right now if you want to go check them out, but I’m gonna tell you straight up: they’re half Harry tats! The Defenseless card, especially, as it is just straight up fanart of Harry’s moth tattoo, especially fun when he had JUST got us talking about its Papillion origin with his finsta! The artist had been worried that Louis would be mad at them for submitting ‘Larry art’, and was overjoyed to learn that, uh... apparently, he was NOT. That was not all! The ‘Too Young’ art card is H’s rose tattoo, ‘Habit’ and ‘Fearless’ were both different variations of H’s anatomical heart tat (the ‘Habit’ one even included the word kind :{) ), and the We Made It rainbow wheel did, in fact, make it to Spotify, just like we thought! “Perfect Now” was Louis standing under a rainbow spotlight—they made that one black and white for spotify but the artist shared the original version. Harries were beside themselves, and tagged Jeff (Azoff), Ben Winston, and Gemma Styles (what?), demanding that they make Louis take the art down because it was clearly Harry art, which 1.) how much more blatant can you be if even ANTIS are noticing and 2.) what sort of control do they think Jeff, Ben, and Gemma have over Louis seeing as, uh, none of them currently work for him??? Weird, are they thinking there might be some kind of link... between Harry and his team and Louis... tell me more antis, truly, I’m fascinated!

One would think that’s more than enough for one day but WAIT THERE’S MORE Zayn is in EXCELLENT quirky Zayn form having fun with his own merch—he posted a gremlin (from the old RL Stine movie ‘Gremlins’) in a NIL beanie captioned “one size fits all humanoid shaped heads” late last night, haaaaa. Yes, I agree! The red stitching really makes the gremlin’s red eyes pop, and his fangs have never looked this good! And the question arose, is Harry’s finsta actually just his side account for following nothing but gay meme accounts? Evidence—the discovery of a second follow, of the openlygayanimals account-- would suggest yes! Well that’s valid, imagine having to not only navigate the internet AS HARRY but also without funny memes of your choice, that’s no life to lead. And Niall complained on twitter that people didn’t understand his sense of humor because SARCASM! He also tweeted about golf, which I’m sure was cool for people who understand it.

#louis tomlinson #zayn #harry styles #niall horan #lmao @ all the people who were like LOUIS JUST SHADED HSHQ #like uh NO HE DIDNT YOU DID #lajdflkdajfsd #also COULD LOUIS BE MORE ON LA TIME??? NO HE COULDNT #i love this today was fun and much needed!#to celebrate im gonna rewatch the liveshow tonight!#anyways!#song of the day!#maybe tomorrow by the stereophonics! bc LOUIS

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