#i think that it's far more complicated than that

[lackadaisycats]

Video essay by Jellybox about what's good and bad about indie animation!

Wanted to share this in case it's helpful to anyone wanting to pursue making animation independently. It's also for fans of indie animation who may want some insight into how an indie studio works, why indie cartoons are always selling merch, why release schedules are often erratic, etc.

I also wanted to clarify the video's context, because it seems to have been somewhat misconstrued in some circles. Not long ago, WGA and SAG strikes, followed by TAG negotiations were very much in the news, shining light on the struggles the artists, writers, and actors in the Hollywood studio system are facing. In response, the words 'just go indie' have been tossed around quite a bit lately.

Gene and Sean at Jellybox approached us a few months back explaining that they were planning to make a video about the realities of running an indie studio/producing indie animation, largely in response to that 'just go indie' attitude. They were curious if we'd be willing to share our experience, including information about actual costs and the various difficulties and complications we've encountered. We said yes! We'd like for people to know what it's like. As much as it might look appealing next to the currently very broken studio system, indie has its own set of problems, and we think it's a good idea to be transparent about that because talking about problems is how you begin to address them.

Of course, while you get creative freedom and you have no shareholders to appease with indie production, the primary struggle you're always going to face is funding…and funding avenues are limited. Banks aren't eager to hand out business loans to freelance artists making cartoons, for instance. Social media algorithms reward frequent updates you can't swing with hand-drawn animated content, so you can't rely much on things like AdSense. You can't really insert sponsored ads into your animated videos without being too obtrusive. You can take on client work, but that interferes with your ability to focus on own animated project. Crowdfunds can be great for seed money, but they're also a ton of work to fulfill, and fulfillment itself will tend to eat up a considerable amount of the funds you've raised. Once your animation is produced, there is no well established way to sell the animated episode itself like there is for, say indie games sold on Steam. So, while we consider ways to try to make the terrain a bit more hospitable to indie creations, if nothing else, let this explain why productions rely a lot on merch drops!

-----------------

And hey, if you're an animation fan, consider supporting the independent productions you enjoy, whether you're tossing a few dollars their way, buying their merch, or just mentioning them to friends:

The Far-Fetched team is launching a crowdfund very soon to help them complete their pilot!

The Monkey Wrench team is killing it lately, and they deserve so much more fanfare than they've gotten!

And of course, thank you to the excellent folks at Jellybox for starting an important conversation!

[indagonightmare]

Not to be that guy but buying pre-made cool pants is just giving your money to evil corporations anyways, its not that hard to make your own cool pants. The pants in wearing right now were $5 at the thrift store, they were a little too tight so I cut up the legs and put eyelets in ($30 for my fancy eyelet hole puncher which you don't NEED, you can also use a hammer, $6 for eyelets, $3 for string to go through the eyelets, $2 for paint) and now they look cool, fit properly and are a little more adjustable for if i gain/lose weight. Most of the pants at Hot Topic for example run about $50, i spent about $46 but the eyelets puncher is something i use all the time for different projects so it was a good investment for me, paint stretches SO far, the eyelets (depending on what size you buy) can be bought in 100 count which again stretches pretty far and since my pants are more adjustable now I'll be able to wear them even longer than if I bought a new pair of pants in my exact current size. I know making things isn't always the most accessible for everyone but if you're already looking to spend $50 on a new pair of pants why not try and make your own that you know will fit you properly. In an ideal world everyone would have the same equal option to buy pre-made things in any size but do you really want to give your money some corporation contributing to the fast fashion industry which relies on borderline slavery to operate and horrible for the environment anyways? Plus learning to make yiur own stuff is just fun, when you get compliments on something you're wearing that you made yourself it's so much more satisfying, and if you tell other people "thanks, i made them myself!" 10/10 times they think its incredibly cool and think you're even cooler. Once you get into it you'll see most clothes that look cool aren't that complicated and im sure there are tutorials online for a lot of stuff too (My pants for example, i know they're uneven, thats because i made them for me and i personally dont care but if you do care about that kind of thing its not hard to just take a bit of chalk and make marks on your pants or whatever youre making so it's measured out and even)

ya im complainiong about them i want the COOL PANTS not the MOM OF THE COOL PANTS

[sunboki]

⎯ caught in the webs. ⟡ featuring han jisung

🕷️ : Spider-Man! Han Jisung x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. Spider-Man! au, nerd Jisung! au, high school! au, pining, confessions (somewhat), slight self-doubt, a little angst, nervous sungie :(

WORD COUNT. 7.4k words ⭑ 35min read

WARNINGS. cursing, mentions of an existential crisis, (not actually) ghosting, insecurity, slight anxiety/degradation of oneself, dubcon(??) kiss

AUG'S NOTES. although i initially planned for this to be a mere 4-5k word fic… yeah. got a little carried away, oops. funny enough i’ve been seeing so much spider-man merch everywhere—got me thinking this fic was meant to be :) please enjoy and feel free to leave your thoughts in a reblog!! have a lovely day everyone <3

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. To everyone else in high school, Han Jisung is just a nervous, somehow ingenious chemistry nerd. And yet, beneath the glasses and long hours studying, a secret lies. Because Han Jisung isn’t just a nerd, but Seoul’s one and only, friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. But what happens when he finds himself head over heels for no one but you? No less scrambling for the courage to ask you out before the Valentine’s Dance? Between the fine-line of his secret identity and the more he falls for you each day, he finds himself hoping you feel the same way.

or alternatively :

In which the tangle of webs makes for complications, and love.

“And- I mean, it’s not like she knows I’m Spider-Man so,” Han rationalizes, hands flailing about in an awkward manner of both panic and hope, currently spilling his worries out to a luckily, ever patient Chan.

That is, opposed to Minho (Han’s official roommate) whom the two both know would nod his head and eventually (bluntly) tell Han he’s thinking far too hard before going back to studying. 

And yet, at this very moment, Minho might be the sole reprieve in calming said boy’s nerves with his no-nonsense attitude.

Because in less than three weeks their high school’s annual Valentine’s dance will be here, and if anyone knows something about Han Jisung, it’s the borderline pitiful way he pines over you like some neglected puppy, a factor it seems only you don’t notice.

As for the thing nobody knows of apart from some greatly trusted compadre’s, Han Jisung isn’t simply a dorky high schooler, but Seoul’s one and only, (trying-to-be) friendly neighborhood Spider-Man. 

Who.. is having a heart attack merely thinking of your face, your laughter, your smile, your— ugh.

Three weeks to gain as much style and confidence as he can muster and, first and foremost, the balls to even ask you out when the time comes. 

To put it simply, he’s fucked.

Completely, utterly, fucked.

Biochemistry with Mr. Jang is the pits when it comes down to his hour-long lectures, but it isn’t the boredom itself grasping his attention so deliberately, it’s you.

Two seats ahead, one seat to the right. 

And oh, if Han isn’t smitten.

You’re smart, stupidly smart. With your pretty hair and pretty face and crinkling eyes when you smile, where your lips curl in delight. You seem to glow, as if an ethereal fae he’d learn of in childish folklore, come alive amid his wildest daydreams.

So it’s the shrill ring of the dismissal bell that has him jumping from his seat, palms slapping against the wood of his desk with a stinging force effectively gaining the attention of most everyone in the class.

And the harrowing silence.

Trust, his face goes beet red, and Jisung had never choked on an apology faster in his life beneath Mr. Jang’s scrutinizing stare.

Though, from the corner of his eye, he can see it: that breathtaking smile of yours hidden behind a hand as you laugh. 

Jackpot.

Han Jisung has just hit the lottery.

Even if it was his scolding earning your laughter. But he’d brush off the matter a thousand times over to see that smile again. And again and again, like a selfish itch incapable of being satiated.

He really is hopeless.

.

.

.

“No you don’t get it! She smiled at me and—“

The rest is a series of groans and oddly unintelligible sounds, ones the partner of his decides not to inquire about.

Now squirming around the hallways, Jisung buries his face into his hands, whining loudly. Third period leads both him and Minho to Physics together, the decently spaced walk across campus to the classroom allowing leeway for (currently-kept-secret) Spider-Man’s groveling. 

Funny story, actually.

The way Minho found out, that is.

Having grown used to his webs over the few months of adjusting, he’d been ignorant in forgetting his roommate would be home as well.

Which.. ensued the piece of bread he used his webs to beckon over—while making the glorious concoction donned as a grilled cheese—met with Minho’s furrowed, evidently confused brows and an equally, albeit slow, acceptance whilst continuing on to the fridge.

A predictable reaction, Jisung would’ve supposed.

If not for the fact he downright begged the boy to not tell, dread forming in his stomach merely watching that sly, mischief-filled sneer curl at his roommate’s lips. 

Laundry and dish-duty for a week.

Thanks, Minho.

As for Chan’s introduction to Seoul’s friendly neighborhood Spider-Man, the two had been approaching each other after Chan’s football practice when the older of the two tossed a football at the younger counterpart, under the (accurate) impression Jisung couldn’t catch to save his life.

That was correct.

The unable-to-catch part, yeah.

But of course, per his luck, if Han couldn’t catch it, that damned radioactive spider would help him catch it.

And he did. Both hands, firm and fast.

Quick enough to freak the quarterback out and, given a few weeks time, unveil his secret after one too many tests on his reflexes and a downright scary amount of footballs thrown at his head.

“So you’re diseased.”

“I am not, we’ve been over this.”

“You’re walking on the ceiling.”

Fair enough, he’d admit if not for the cereal (that he currently figures out how to hold upside down- or right side up? It’s hard to tell) stuffed in his cheeks, feigning a glare matching Minho’s where his roommate pokes his nose indignantly prior to beginning off towards the bathroom.

Nearly 8am, and he’s aiming to keep comfy pajamas on as long as possible before having to exchange for school clothes.

Curious, observant umber irises waste time peering at the expanse of his torso visible where he hangs upside down, lips forming into an ‘o’ of awe seeing the defined lines descending down his belly flex with every move.

Those are new.

Perks of a spider bite, huh. 

Of the few.

Eventually resorting to doing forgotten dishes, he patiently waits for the grumpy roommate of his to finish in the bathroom, rumbling echo of the hairdryer synthesizing with the morning news’ daily report.

Weather, local updates. But the portion gathering his attention comes in the form of the headline: Creeping villain, Lizard, once again detained by Seoul’s mysterious vigilante, Spider-Man.

And simultaneously, listening in on the story, he finds a glow of pride settling in his chest.

He did that. With a few bruises and scrapes sufficing as evidence but, overall, his doing.

Nevertheless, with the rising pride comes the rising stupidity.

Apparently. 

Resulting in, while lost in the throes of his inflating ego, the reckless unleash of webs upon random surfaces as fast as he can manage, failing to notice the risky positioning of a web by his foot until—as if from a cartoon—he trips over it. 

“Ow! My foot- and my coffee..”

The shatter of his mug and Minho’s exasperated sigh seem to speak for themselves.

Most days it’s simply him and his thoughts in classes, and he enjoys that. Sometimes. 

The serenity, the ability to focus with ease, his headphones as his only companion—in which he tries pinpointing a suitable theme song for himself with. 

Embarrassing, he knows, but the aspect is exciting, having his own theme song.

He is a hero, after all.

Or.. one in training, after all.

A thumb and index tap along the surface of his desk, scribbling into his notebook. 

Web Fluid, consists of the topic at hand, scrawled on the top of the page.

A matter he knows he can create easily per his spider-like abilities, but finds himself pouring over regardless, curiosity gnawing at him with each formula jotted down on the lined paper.

Until you come along, and every sensible ounce of brain power goes aloof.

“Hey, what would you think about tutoring— web fluid?”

Your initial offer, from what he could tell, is swift to change, and Jisung feels his ears burn.

“Oh, yeah- I was just- web fluid, y’know? ‘Cause I, like everyone else, hate spiders (sorry radioactive spider) so I just-“

“That’s interesting, actually. You’ve got a real good grasp on chemistry.. huh.”

Lips puckered into a puff of contemplation, you’re slow to nod, gaze scanning over the wild bullet points, numbers too overwhelming to even consider.

So easy, he makes it all: the calculations, the math.

So easy, you make it all: the interactions, the conversation. 

Envy strikes him like a lightning bolt.

Why can’t he just calm down? Behave as he would if he were Spider-Man? 

Capable, assured.

“Think you could tutor me? I can pay you?”

This was not what he expected. 

“Tutor?” Han repeats, as if to clarify whether he’s hearing things. Not a belittling sort of echo, but one to console his inner panic, hope, bewilderment.

Emphasis on the bewilderment.

The nod of your head affirms all he needs to know, and, while suppressing the urge to shout with joy, he offers a small smile, waving a hand synonymously.

“Sure, yeah. Tutoring would be great. I think I’d have time between my internship with Stark Industries- not that I’m like- bragging or anything- just Mr. Stark can be kinda pushy and—“

He takes a moment to calm down before continuing to ramble on.

“We can work in your dorm? Or- if that makes you uncomfortable I totally get it-“

A big breath, flushing further beneath you patient smile.

“And you don’t have to pay me,” These words are quieter, his eyes flitting over the web fluid formulas below. “I don’t mind.”

“Thank you, Jisung.”

Jisung.

He has to cough into his hand to keep from choking, screaming, leaping like a rabbit and shrieking with accomplishment. Mainly because you called him Jisung, and secondly due to the number in his phone, your number in his phone a few minutes afterward.

This is Jisung, hi. Comes out as the most suitable first text after around twenty minutes of hesitation.

Yet, despite his exhaustion that following morning from swinging around the majority of the night in some way of expressing his happiness, he still glows.

And.. freaks out Minho in the process. 

That isn’t new. 

“Ugh…”

The ring of his alarm earns a low moan of irritation, slinging an arm over his face in feeble avoidance. His muscles ache, head thrumming frustratingly hard. 

Then again, he still gets up, still makes breakfast and dresses—however long that took between trudging steps and obnoxiously long yawns.

Though, there’s a minuscule facet of motivation keeping his eyes bright, his actions swift and steady.

You. 

Tonight, you’ll tutor at the library. Chemical equations, something he luckily excels at.

Together.

Cupid’s bow had long-since struck, leaving Han Jisung to drift away into a love-stricken labyrinth he had no chance of escaping from. 

And gosh are you pretty, the boy swearing he ends up lost gazing at you too many times to count.

There are days he can tell you’re tired, days you drag yourself to tutoring amid a likely hectic schedule where he simply wants to give you the biggest hug possible.

He can’t say his schedule looks any better, but will admit making time to both tutor and hang out sits at the top of an endlessly accumulating list.

In which beckons small notes scribbled between the margins of your textbook, sticky-notes attached to your folder for the next day.

A little extra motivation within the: “You can do it!!” or the silly messages like: “Imagine Mr. Jang as a giraffe!” that he pumps his fist seeing you laugh at that following day.

From then, a routine starts. 

Someone bringing coffee one week, the next the other’s job. Studying that turns into conversation, turns into him relaxing around you, able to communicate without slipping over his words, where you pitch in and he does too. 

Jokes, idiotic ones, he adds in just to watch you smile. Silly remarks you both laugh over until your stomachs hurt.

Even if this labyrinth isn’t one he can escape from, he finds himself not minding.

“And it’s not like she knows I’m Spider-Man.”

“Are you Spider-Man?”

Those words echo in his head, practically a wicked enchantment on replay.

Fu—ck.

Of plenty tutoring sessions, it had to be now that things suddenly went to shit, huh?

With his head running a mile a minute and the sensible words leaving every ounce of headspace, the genius of a boy manages one sentence.

One. Stupid. Sentence.

“Spider-Man? Who’s that?”

Great going, jackass.

Your awkward chuckle makes him want to crawl into his own skin, makes him wish so terribly the library would eat him up, that he could dissipate out of sight.   

“I’m kidding, you know that, right?”

Oh. He’s saved. 

“I mean,” A pause, and for a split second Jisung’s heart plummets once more, feeling as if he’s trapped on a nonstop roller coaster and not a decrepit library chair instead.

Do you know? Did his roomie snitch?

No. Remember the dishes-for-a-week deal, he mentally reassures.

“Everybody wants to know, yeah? I think he’s pretty cool, actually,” Eyes flickering back to your book, his face pales.

A good kind of pale, if that exists.

Ah. 

A light at the end of the tunnel.

It must be some sort of miracle, because Han Jisung hasn’t felt this elated since being presented with a new bicycle for his birthday when he was seven.  

“Thank y— Oh! Yeah. He’s.. yep, cool. Really cool.”

Stammering. Han Jisung, the boy who made a pact to end each night with beer pong come his college days (something that likely won’t happen), who makes dirty jokes bad enough Minho snorts at them, stammering. 

It’s beyond embarrassing, but he’s never felt so alive. 

Nonetheless, his tutoring voyage continues (although almost painful with how often he savors watching your face light up upon getting a question right), compiled in chatter he somehow gets through and small jokes here and there you exchange as if you’d known each other forever. 

And somewhere in between the lines of Stats and multiple-choice-answer hell, he thinks about it. About asking you out, about the dance, about spilling it all right here and there—with your two coffee cups steaming warm tendrils and the quietness of surrounding bookshelves making everything feel safe, comfortable.

“Hey, would you,” He finds himself hesitating, finds your kind gaze flickering to him from the review paper in clutch.

Baby steps. 

“Would you want to do this again? Tomorrow? Like, maybe at a café? The one by campus? Or not, if you’re busy or, don’t want to or whatever-“

“Sure.”

Sure.

He wants to resent you for the relaxed nature you adjust to an atmosphere with, your natural ability to pull him closer and closer, to make his heart thump hard enough in his chest he fears it might burst.

Because you’re far too much for his heart, and he’s giving you a run for your money with those wide globes for eyes and round cheeks bunching up in focus when explaining a concept.

But that’s a secret that’ll remain untold.

For the most part.

“Okay.”

He tried replying with the same fashion of nonchalance, but the words come out shaky and nervous and he nearly winces.

Although, come the finale of this almost-disaster, you still said yes. And to his knowledge—however meager when it came to the matter of love—tomorrow you’d be going on a date. Technically a study-date. Even still, a date.

So predictably, as the semi-idiot he is, he spends his night swinging through Seoul once more and swimming in consequential drowsiness the following day.

Worth it.

Under-eye bags be damned, it seems the way Jisung nearly radiates energy so early in the morning unsettles more than motivates for a second time these past few weeks, understood in the grunted: “turn it down!” received from Minho in response to his music.

..In which he currently serenades an invisible audience using a spoon as a microphone in the kitchen.

A date a date a date a date. 

He keeps the anxiety from settling in for the time being, knowing his kryptonite would take domain the moment he allowed himself in his mind.

What should he wear? Should he style his hair differently? It’s Saturday, maybe he should wear something less school-oriented?

No. 

Enough. 

More serenading, more bad-singing mutes the chaos bouncing around his skull.

He’ll take what he can get.

.

.

.

Each passing minute edges closer to noon, his bag hauled over a shoulder and a mumbled pep-talk recited where he paces his room—the fretful introductions he goes over in the mirror falling short upon his overthinking becoming all too much, prompting him from the dorms for fresh air.

Just be natural.

He scoffs at the thought.

Yeah right. 

The flutter of birds soaring from overhanging trees captures his attention, then the rustle of leaves, then the distant shout of children squabbling over a ball. Peaceful, if only temporarily. 

Eventually, the quiet provokes a hand to reach for his phone, clicking on your number with a ruminative hum, head bobbing to the melody in his eardrums.

The Cure plays, Friday I’m in Love’s familiar beat soothing his indecisiveness while walking.

Tongue pressing to his cheek does the feeling grasp him almost instantly. Tight and inexorable, noise in his eardrum numbing to a buzz. 

The Jisung Tingle.

Chan’s words, not his. 

Too far for a regular person to hear, he discerns the shout of a woman, and Han’s already finding his trusty alley to both dump his bag and simultaneously change into his suit in before scaling the wall.

“Shoot, shoot, shoot!” Comes his hurried babbling, technologically adept sensors in the costume’s eye-divots adjusting to better locate the source of commotion, danger.

A bank robber about a hundred feet away catches his attention first, the idiot scrambling for as much cash as he can muster into an already pitifully minuscule bag.

This guy’s gonna ruin my date!

Ah yes Jisung, ever the optimist.

Skillful deployment of his webs sends him straight to the problem, checking his phone for half a second.

Eleven fifty-two, and eight minutes doesn’t sound like nearly enough time right about now to both apprehend a criminal and turn into an unsuspecting Jisung attending his first date with the girl he really, really likes.

“Y’know,” He shouts, a sharp kick to the back of the leg forcing the perpetrator on ground so harshly he even winces at it, muttering a “sorry!” he scolds himself over after restraining the man.

Reminder: don’t apologize to criminals.

“I’d give you the credit for trying this in broad daylight, but this bag man.. it’s tiny!” He can’t help but chuckle, placing his hands on his hips matter-of-a-fact-ly.

“Lemme guess, it’s your mom’s bag,” Leaning forward, he grants some leeway to crack funny comments.

Deadpool’s funny, right? Can’t he be like Deadpool? That’s okay, yeah? People like funny Superheroes.

The unimpressed scowl from the robber earns a sheepish, squeaky giggle, waving his hands frantically.

Gotcha. No funny Superheroes.

“Not that your mom’s bag’s ugly! I mean it’s just, kinda small. Wouldn’t you wanna use a big bag, like in the movies?”

Alright. No humor, period. Got it.

“Yeah Spider-Man!” Suddenly, a person’s voice resounds from the onlookers, eliciting following cheers he can’t help but preen at, mouth agape beneath his mask.

“I have fans! Oh my gosh I fa—“

Han Jisung has one minute until his perfect, amazing date.

The memorandum is abruptly voiced from his suit’s inner audio system, and he both thanks Mr. Stark for the high-tech features and curses his ability to get distracted. 

Additionally cursing the beyond-cheesy way he typed in that reminder, by the way.

What’s up with the “perfect, amazing date” part?

Moving on.

Unfortunately, the time crunch calls for his equally time-crunched behavior, calling out a: “call the police please!” to the amassing crowd and using his webs to keep the robber’s hands behind his back moments after propelling himself upwards.

You.

He can’t afford to be late, witness your disappointed face.

Han would rather take off the suit for good than have you think he stood you up.

Unbeknownst to the awkwardly redressing hero in his beloved alley, you’re also running late, a factor he remains oblivious to.

Until he doesn’t. 

It’s true, time and time again, that a person’s instinctively compelled in locating the person they favor in a crowd. That even when hundreds of bodies surround, one’s eyes travel solely to their special person.

His special person, whom he involuntarily lands in front of without a single thought in mind. 

Great job, dude.

“Hey, um-“

No wait, he can’t just start a conversation like this. You don’t know he’s Spider-Man.

Right.

Deepening his voice (rather horribly), he waves a hand about, summoning this painfully fake, certainly-not-teenage impression. 

“You seem lost, ma’am. I could, y’know, give you a ride? I’m a very classical gentleman-“

Yikes, the voice crack. 

“..Alright?”

The way you tilt your head, the way your hair cascades around your face like a perfect frame.

Oh my gosh you’re pretty.

How many times has he thought that now? 

Heck, not just Jisung, but Spider-Man has to take a deep breath, more so when you loop an arm around his shoulders and he both struggles (and excels) at avoiding touching your bum, simultaneously pretending to be oblivious about your destination in mind.

As if he wasn’t just rushing there moments prior. 

Although it’s easy grinning at the mixture of screams and laughter bubbling from your lips with each practiced extension of his webs, savoring the manner you cling close while he bounds overtop Seoul’s cityscape, expression transforming into that of excitement after the first few nerve-wracking seconds. 

Alive.

He knows the feeling, the freedom coming with being above the crowd. 

The other thing he’s come to know the feeling of? The panic upon arriving at the café, followed by another bout of panic trying to subtly change in the tiny bathroom without making a racket.

Slightly sweaty, but durable. 

No less, crazily enough, the date goes well. You continue to look darling from your spot across from him, he rushes to behave the most manly he can, and the both of you merely.. talk.

About anything, everything. Plans for tomorrow, for next year. Family, friends, pets. Bbama (his dog) and how much he misses him, and quips he prides himself in earning your laugh at, progressively mellowing out.

Understandably, you’ve both long since abandoned the aim of “studying” in this excused study-date.

Then again, there are the moments. The brief notions where you're both out of breath, whether it be from laughter or hurried conversation altogether that he swears if he asked that perilous question you’d say yes. 

Want to go to the dance with me?

Or maybe that’s too laxed.

Gone just as fast as the chance arrives, he’s alternatively left trying to play off spacing out, flushing in response to bemused laughter.

Easy.

You’ve always made it easy.

This time, it’s his turn to level out the playing ground.

And while you’re effectively charmed by his antics, a little boy a few tables over wonders why he’s catching glimpses of Spider-Man’s suit beneath a high-school boy’s pants leg.

In all the years of Han Jisung’s life, he never pictured himself as a taxi service.

And no, not working for a taxi service, but being a taxi service.

You heard that right, yes.

So it’s a “new kind of whipped” (according to Chan) that more often than not he’s slinging himself over to your dorm after some not-so “coincidences” in which he ran into you on the street, eventually pretending to learn the whereabouts of your dorm.

“Sour gummy worms orrr— Sour Patch Kids?” 

Which leads to very intelligent conversations.

Obviously.

The Jisung less than a month ago would’ve screamed himself silly if he saw him now, currently combing his fingers through your hair where you sit leant against the side of the bed, popping a gummy worm in your mouth before lifting the bag to share.

Recently, most of his nights have been spent lingering around here after tutoring, the matter ignorant to you that the same boy in his glasses and flannel shirt minutes earlier now stood as Spider-Man.

Expectedly, you talk. And talk and talk and talk until he knows a curfew officer would knock him out cold if he was found sneaking from your dorm, till you forget about time altogether.

Of your many conversations, the ones where you end up crying are his least favorite. 

To say it broke his heart the first time he watched you break down in front of him was a severe understatement, thanking the courage his hero-identity provided him with to usher you into a hug he never wished to let go of.

And he didn’t, not until those sniffles subsided, those glossy eyes lost their heart-wrenching factor.

A week from the dance, you fell asleep in his arms for the first time since these meet-ups, the boy barely sneaking through the window before you came barreling him over in a hug.

He had an inkling you weren’t feeling up to tutoring that night from the start, the failure to focus not going unnoticed.

Of course, with being able to provide you security as Spider-Man, so came the insecurity as Han Jisung.

Was it this version of him you wanted? The strong, capable soon-to-be-eighteen-year-old known as Seoul’s helpful vigilante? A hero?

Was Han Jisung not enough?

However much the doubt struck him electrified, for now he’d savor being able to be your consolation, your confidant. To hold you close when you needed to feel something, someone, for his head to rest in your lap when his own day sucked.

Someone to rely on, so this world wouldn’t seem so lonely. If only for a little while.

.

.

.

Still, the downsides had to persevere.

That night’s headline was definitely a downside, more humiliating than anything.

Spider-Man’s clumsy apprehension of Chang-dong bank robber.

The knowing snicker he can practically hear from Minho’s dorm followed by an assumed-to-be equally smug text from Chan lighting up his phone is returned by a childish whine.

Yeah. Not proud of that.

“I’m going to file a stalker report, y’know.”

Four days from the dance, he decides his nightly escapades could use a bump up, lowering himself upside down with his webs where you passed by a crevice of two buildings.

A little scare wouldn’t hurt, right?

…Right?

Number one? Don’t do that, he learned. Number two? Your smacks really hurt.

“Jerk!” Irritated in manner, it’s the small grin tugging at the corner of your lips giving away your true feelings, a matter Han can’t help but giggle cheerily at despite the stinging of his cheek.

Ouch.

It has his head going for a loop both hanging upside down generally and acknowledging the fact you still look good from this odd angle altogether, head tilting quizzically.

“Actually, I think I deserve a thank you,” His haughty reply, channeling your earlier accusatory energy, beckons a laugh.

“Don’t you know it’s dangerous out late? Gotta have Spidey here to keep the creeps away.”

“My hero,” Comes your own haughty reply, placing a dramatic hand to your chest before dissolving into shared smiles.

A pause interrupting the flow of speech, he fills in the blanks searching your face for any indication of the thoughts swirling in that head of yours to no avail.

“Well I’ve got to reward you in some way, yeah? You’ve given me free rides,” Arrives your too-sweet of a response, eyes narrowing thoughtfully.

That perfect knit between your brows.

Cute.

“Say, ‘been thinking you sound similar to somebody I know. We study together.”

Oh. 

Whoops.

If his eyes were visible, you’d watch them grow the size of saucers, his mouth gaping.

“Ah, just a thought.” 

And with a wave of your hand do you dismiss an upcoming heart attack, only to stir up yet another upon reaching for his mask, earning what meager observation would conclude as a squeal.

“Wait- wait! Wait!” 

Thankfully, you do in fact wait, and Han Jisung, with only his mouth bared, breathes a sigh of relief.

“Please don’t take it off.”

For a moment, the man sounds remarkably like Han Jisung, but you shake the thought as soon as it passes. 

“Okay,” It’s a whisper, but heard nonetheless, the appearance of storm clouds bathing the alleyway an even darker shade, clouding your vision to the mere white of his teeth, the parting of soft lips when he speaks, breathes. 

“I dunno I just- I thought between you in my dorm and the way we- I thought it’d be-“

This time you’re stammering, something he’d initially be starstruck regarding if not for the guilt gnawing at his chest. 

Understandable.

Friends don’t just cuddle at night, visit each other just to be held.

Not the way you two do.

“Would a kiss work? For a ‘thank you’, I mean.”

Somewhere in between, you saw Han Jisung in this stranger, this hero.

Whether it turned out as him or not, a part of you wished when you closed your eyes, that sweet, studious boy would be there when you opened them. 

A little inkling in your gut tells you more than you catch onto.

The bob of his throat beckons a small snort of sheepish, pained laugh on your end, the boy fearing he may suffer a head rush the longer he dangles upside down.

“I’m sorry— that was too forward, right?”

A beat of silence ensues. More stifling than ever.

Though it’s the precious manner your lips wind tight, expression filling with hesitation compared to a previous playfulness that has him speaking before you say something along the lines of “forget it” and leave the seemingly invincible Spider-Man to cry in this horrific-smelling alleyway like a child.

“No! No. That’s- yeah. That would be okay.”

Again, he scolds the wobbliness of his tone, schooling it into that playful cadence his identity as a hero calls for instead.

Because he’d be a liar first off saying he didn’t ache for more, and an ever bigger liar denying himself from your kiss after such arduous pining. 

“Just one though, can’t have too many, alright?”

Liar, for a second time. 

You could kiss him till he passed out and he’d wake up grateful. 

But the ego’s got to be kept up, right?

Yet, before another sly quip can fall from his tongue he’s nearly spellbound, your lips finding his shutting off both all brainpower and erasing the retort he’d planned to fill the quietness. 

And oh if Jisung doesn’t just melt, chasing after your lips instinctively, savoring the silly bump of your nose against his chin from upside down. The laughter between too-short of contact, the warm touch of your fingers against his cheeks as cold rain pelts the city from above, droplets tickling his skin.

Pulling away, he finds his hands instinctively reaching out, tenderly smoothing away strands of hair stubbornly sticking to your forehead just like what he’d do to soothe when you’d cry—giggling at the messy mascara tracks scoring your cheeks upon detaching his webs, suit-clad feet thumping on the sidewalk below.

Alas, right side up.

“Hey, don’t make the people think I made you cry, hm?” He cracks a smile, adjusting his mask back over his face. 

Well, that’s seconds from coming to understand the price of the rain, the effect of the rain in drenching your t-shirt see-through.

Oh how fast that smug facade vanishes, Han’s palm jutting out to shield both you and his eyes. 

“Your- I’ll be right back- I’m not looking!”

Because beneath the hero-suit, he’s only a teenager. 

And a gentleman, he prides himself in believing himself to be.

Luckily, this just so happened to be the alley he’d ditched his initial clothing in, exchanging for his suit moments prior. 

Gotta love his trusty alley.

Thanking whomever above, an extra “Stark Industries” t-shirt of his suffices in calming the situation at hand.

Trust, Jisung wants to groan with the sight of you in his t-shirt, one he assures you can keep for as long as you need on the ride back.

Ride, as in, web-slinging, an occasion definitely not as fun beneath the downpour of thunder and rain.

Ensuring you get back safely, he practically catapults himself into his own dorm, running to the shower like a wet rat seeking shelter.

Yep. It’s a great look.

But gosh does that shower feel like a slice of heaven.

Though not as heavenly as your kiss.

From inside the shower, a loud scream of realization rings out, previous events raining down on him like the warm water sifting through his hair.

Seems it sunk in.

.

.

.

“So.. what should I do if I see a girl's bra?”

Fairly normal conversation between him and Minho, per usual.

“..Did you sleep with someone?”

“Wha- no! It was an accident!”

“An accident that you slept with someone?”

This is going nowhere.

“No! An accident where I saw her b-“

“Then congrats.”

Congrats.

“What am I supposed to do, celebrate?” Han demands incredulously, giving his roommate a nonsensical stare.

“.. Butter chicken?”

Unfortunately, his stomach argues against any more squabbling, voice like that of a mouse.

“Yes, please.”

And the two enjoy their butter chicken in relatively harmless terms, The Bachelor playing on the TV, Minho taking the floor with his sparkling cider while Jisung occupies the couch above, notebook in hand.

In less than three day, I went on my first date and kissed the girl I’m in love with. Except, she doesn’t know who I am, he writes, hand stopping after that final period before closing the forbidden contents away with a loud exhale, head tipping back to rest against the couch.

One thought failed to be written down? A little extra something, bouncing around in his skull.

I want to tell her the truth.

This is met with another sigh.

What a day.

“Who knew I’d be hanging around thee Spider-Man. Or that he kissed me.”

The last sentence is barely audible, but Jisung catches it all the same, a lopsided grin nudging at his cheeks. 

From your view on the rooftop, the sunset illuminates her waning rays, painting the sky an effortless canvas of crimson and amber hues. Your feet dangle aimlessly from the edge, an action you would be horrified of if not for the man’s presence beside you.

Han’s presence, though you didn’t know that just yet.

All you’ve gathered of his identity were the momentary occasions he’d roll up his mask, like now, where the superhero gnaws at a granola bar, seated beside you. 

“I’m pretty normal though,” Comes his reply, a lilt in the last word hinting at his confusion. 

“Pfft- normal? You’re Spider-Man! Everyone in a quarter radius of Seoul City wants to know your identity. Either that or they run some secret fan account for you.”

A pause before his masked-face slowly swivels to you.

“..Do you run a fan acco—“

Jisung’s pondering was quick to be choked upon (literally) when you smack his back, provoking a chaste gagging fit on his granola bar. 

Yeesh your smacks hurt.

“No! I was just giving an example!”

He finds himself laughing anyway despite the dull throb of his shoulder, feigning a pout whilst rubbing over the skin in feigned hurt. 

It’s nice, he thinks. To be sharing this little corner of the world with you. Away from the hustle and bustle of life. 

Most days he’d swing his way here for a late dinner, peeling layers of tin-foil from his wrapped burrito, legs swinging over the edge, headphones blaring some slow tune while watching the moon make its entrance past a setting sun.

For once, his world as Spider-Man isn’t so.. isolated. 

Dangerous, risky with the prospect of you discovering his identity, but for now he’ll embrace the possibility, embrace your presence beside him.

He doesn’t care if it’s momentary, fleeting. 

Being a Spider-Man, having these abilities, this random probability in a billion of becoming a hero, has taught him to hold onto each opportunity with both hands.

Without a chance of letting go.

And somewhere during those consistent weeks of tutoring, you join each other on the dorms’ rooftop on random occasions when he can’t slip into your dorm undetected. 

Him under the ecstatic impression he gets to see you again outside of the library, you believing the boy from tutoring had gone back to his dorm, now meeting a totally-separate, definitely-not-Han-Jisung Spider-Man.

Or so he thought.

Frequency, predictably, beckons familiarity. Opening leeway to deeper, more meaningful conversations within those nights more than ever before, the uncovering of sensitive, intimate layers that almost provoke Han to speak, to reveal himself.

Guilt, ever so slightly, in regards to your obliviousness to the truth.

A guilt unnecessary, he had yet to know of. Because you’ve come to notice that, when rolling his mask up just enough whenever eating, a chocolate-chip looking mole rests on his cheek, one oh so signature to yet another person.

Two strangers, turned friends, turned kiss-don’t-tell, turned foolish secret-keepers chasing each other’s tails after a love requited all along.

As for tonight, his hands brace himself upon rigid brick, the month and a half span of adapting to your companionship enabling him to not freak out (unlike the first time it happened) when you rest your head against his shoulder. 

One earbud in his ear, the other in yours.

DEAN plays, the title “Half Moon” quite befitting for that same moon rising above two high schoolers. One hopelessly having fallen first, the other finding themself falling harder.

“Can this be our song?” His whisper’s barely divisible against a gust of wind, but you hear it anyway.

“Mhm.”

The nod against his shoulder is enough.

.

.

.

“Alright, it’s about time I head out, hm? Got homework to do.”

It’s a small peck, one placed chaste and tidy against his cheek. However, no matter the size, Han transforms into a tomato beneath his mask, ever so grateful for the coverage provided.

“Just one, you said. Wouldn’t want it to be too much.”

Cruel, he thinks, watching you go, watching that teasing smile on your face.

Using my words against me.

“If a weird guy shows up, tell them Spider-Man will hunt them down!”

Per a greater confidence beneath the mask, he felt obligated in getting the last laugh, chuckling at the dismissive wave of your hand before you disappear down the stairs, the roof’s access hatch clunking closed behind you.

Following your absence, a glance at the sky and its brilliant stars elicit a weighted breath in response. 

Two days from the dance, proposals having started up left and right in the halls, the classrooms.

Ah, this is getting bad.

Who knew love could be so troublesome?

But then again, the intervention of hesitation snakes its way between the lines, and Han Jisung finds himself cast-away to a deserted island within his head during the one class he’s usually most attentive in, Biophysics. Too busy thinking of you, of the “something more��.

Because what if who you kissed that night, Spider-Man, was who you were into? What if the Han Jisung beneath the suit wasn’t what you wanted, but the hero, with his brave facade and unbreakable spirit?

And Han Jisung was just a nerdy high schooler. 

A hard shake of his head futilely tries discarding the gray clouds of worry, appearing incessantly come this past week. 

Foot tapping against the tile floor, he jams the endlessly clicking tip of his pen against an unfitting, empty notebook.

You deserve the hero.

The thought, somehow, makes his heart break a bit. Sends his mind into a frenzy of existential questioning.

Was Han Jisung Spider-Man? Or simply the man behind the suit? Two lives, completely different and yet all the same coming down to the person responsible.  

Is he that hero? 

That night, he lets people down.

He doesn’t respond to his call from Mr. Stark (and the following one from Happy), disappears from his dorm, and fails to show up for tutoring and his daily drop-in to your dorm.

Han Jisung can’t be perfect, can’t live up to every expectation, every stereotype a hero is portrayed as.

There are lives that’re going to be lost with or without his interference, people he can’t save, circumstances he can’t change no matter how hard he tries.

But today is now. Nothing will change unless he changes it.

Spider-Man can’t be without Jisung, yet, Jisung needs to be able to be without Spider-Man. 

There is no sacrifice if it all relies on the suit, no heroics. 

Just a scared little boy hiding behind fancy technology, behind a confident facade unable to be replicated without a media-ridden title attached to it, a suit to cover himself with.

The boy that kissed you? That was Jisung. Jisung’s voice, lips, laugh. His nervousness, his cockiness. 

It’s always been him.

Just Han Jisung.

And he’s okay with that.

Because if he can’t be without the suit, what is there to be?

Texts left unread, it’s one pebble knocking, then another against your window at 6am the day of the dance that alerts you from your sleep, cursing under your breath as you make for the window—left without a trace of the sender other than a sticky note smack-dab in the middle of the panel.

No other could’ve left that than him.

The reasoning earns your sigh of disbelief.

Climb to the rooftop, please.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he prays you’ll comply.

It’d make plenty of sense, your pensiveness. He let you down, held you to a predictable standard left unpredictable after oh so long.

However, feelings always have a way of choosing things before the mind can, and even your spitefulness works futile against the two feet guiding you up the stairwell.

What awaits you leaves every ounce of anger simmering into nothingness, because the familiar sight of Mapo Bridge miles off says something.

A sharp inhale.

Intertwined across the arch and guardrails, webs spell out such a peculiar assortment of words.

I love you.

A smaller writing off to the side.

I’m sorry.

Oh he makes you angry.

Angry thanks to this boy throwing your life for a loop, angry thanks to the foolishness this love seems to have infected the both of you with.

The ignorance, the insecurity, the childishness. All so messy.

What a fool you were to stay quiet about the truth, to pretend these feelings weren’t to be acted upon.

And from his place seated atop the bridge’s arc, the shout of yours faintly reaches his ears, the words sounding remarkably like “I love you.”

He doesn’t return until later that night, watching parents drop off their kids, couples gliding up the stairs in throes of laughter, hand in hand.

Suit-adorned legs dangle from the streetlight a block or so away, chewing at his lip in thought.

Until his thought is abruptly interrupted by the clearing of a throat, your throat, he verifies upon turning around to look, significantly paling.

“Fess up, loser.”

Oh you’re mad.

Dressed up all pretty for the dance and yet fuming.

…Why is it hot?

Quit that, he internally berates, slow to hop down to ground level.

“Look, I can-“

“No you can’t! You- you what, randomly decide “oh I’m just gonna go off the grid for two days, let’s not notify anybody and everything will be alright”? Huh? You don’t respond to anyone’s texts, calls, the school couldn’t even find you!”

Furious steps stomp forward, feebly pounding your fists against his chest.

Shaky hands find your wrists to hold, his breathing nearly painful to listen to within his mask. Stifled, shuddering. 

And he can tell, oh he can tell. You’re going to cry.

He’s just made you cry.

There’s never been a moment Jisung hated himself more.

“Hey hey hey- no no don’t- don’t cry-“

Another scream of yours makes him wince, makes his hands originally reaching for your face to cradle flinch back.

“I hate- I hate this! I hate that I’ve let you worm your way into my heart and- and that you tell me you loved me and-“

A sputtering breath before his mask is not-so gently hoisted up to catch onto the hook of his nose and he’s dragged into your kiss by the collar, dissolving into mumbled “I’m sorry”’s repeated into your lips before you pull away, out of breath.

“You scared me half to death,” Scolding, one hand comes to brush off your clothing after letting go, impressively calmed after such a whirlwind of emotions, or maybe he’s simply reading it wrong.

“I forgive you.”

This mumble is much softer, muttered beneath your breath. 

Sometimes you truly do behave like a child.

A tiny quirk of his lips betrays his fondness.

“Just.. don’t ever do that again, okay? Or I’m breaking up with you.”

The threat is feeble and certainly not sounding sure enough to believe, your brows furrowed in conviction the only remnant of insistence he’d chuckle at if not for the lingering fear of being yelled at again.

A fair yelling, he’d admit.

“Wait.”

On his part, a delay.

“We were dating? I thought we..”

“I mean we kissed but would you count that as…?”

High schoolers, to the core.

Sort of funny, actually, trying to uncover a label.

For a moment your attention flickers to the dance-attending students, retreating back to Jisung in response to his heavy sigh, the seriousness returning.

Merciless, it is.

The truth.

“I can’t be there for you how I want to be, you know that. My life.. as Spider-Man, I mean, it’s too unpredictable. Risky. I can’t make promises. A life at risk isn’t scheduled, arranged. I’d put you in danger and let you down and—“

“I know what I’m getting myself into, okay?”

Easy, you always make it.

This time, he’s grateful.

“I love you, and I think you heard it.”

Synonymously, he scorns the gradual wobbliness of his lip, the tremble in his hands returning full-force, breaking any earlier pretense of strength put up.

No barriers, you both know this.

Not anymore.

“I’ll um,” His voice cracks, but he doesn’t wince, turning his back to you as if to slip away. “I’ll come by your dorm tonight. Dance your heart out, okay?”

He nods to the auditorium, flashing lights and blaring music echoing from the closed doors.

Shifting from foot to foot, it takes every ounce of willpower to speak, to keep him from drifting off once more.

“Well if Spider-Man can’t go to the dance.. Can Jisung?”

To say his jaw dropped would be an understatement, each muscle in his body turning into stone, as if having gazed at Medusa herself.

“I knew you were.. you for a while now.”

Your voice, awkwardly explaining, aids in the wild gesturing of hands, admiring his messy hair where the mask is pulled off the entire way, unveiling a rather shell-shocked Han Jisung underneath. 

“It’s your mole um, right here?” Pointing to his left cheek, a small smile tugs at your lips. “I saw it one time when you were eating that granola bar on the roof. Kinda just.. put two and two together-“

“Why didn’t you say something!”

Now it’s Han’s turn to sound like a petulant child, causing you to bite back with the same kind of vigor.

“I was nervous, idiot!”

Hurried gasps for air fill the empty street, catching your breath after screaming at each other from mere feet apart.

Couldn’t get more mature than that. 

Observing his face, you find it only a matter of time before whatever frothing idea brewing past curly hair becomes audible.

“C’mon.”

“Wha- WHAT?!”

Swept off your feet where Han runs to scoop you up, it’s oddly difficult in whacking his shoulder from so much laughing, whisked away to somewhere you couldn’t name.

Fools.

And now, having understood this idea of his to be on your ordinated rooftop, you simply take to watching from afar as he flits around, having disappeared for a few minutes before returning back with what eerily appeared to be a speaker hidden behind an arm.

Before you can inquire, the melody of a song begins to strum.

Your song, together.

Half Moon, by DEAN.

Han pretends to know how to dance and you pretend to take him seriously, extending a hand your way where he waltzes over with clumsy steps.

The silliness earns a giggle, hand reaching for his hand anyway.

And beneath the stars, your own Valentines dance comes alive.

This stage is made for two.

Fools.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

[boosnotes]

Sonic T. Hedgehog x reader (platonic) & Shadow T. Hedgehog x reader (romantic)

Warning: none

Genre: eeeh... comedy? cause its not funny and absurd enough to be a crack fic

A/n: im not totally in love with this work, but i hate throwing them away

"I think I like Shadow." You blurted out suddenly, Sonic slowly turned his head around and gave you a very concerned look. You two were hanging out, watching a shitty movie, one of those that are so bad they're good. This was something you had to get out of your chest, to try at least to check if it's actually real and not your brain confusing love for having someone just treating you decently.

"Why would you do that to yourself?" His tone showed genuine worry, he hadn't moved a bit, his body was in shock, but his face wasn't, and his hand was still in the air right about to eat a chip.

"I don't know…" You now hang your head low, trying to make sense of your life choices, this one by far was one of your more questionable ones, which isn't a lot if you think about it, don't think about it, you're already dealing with something too serious for your heart. The blue hedgehog slowly nodded, his body relaxing a little, seeing his shoulder slack down and his hand retrieved back to the chip bowl.

"Ok… What do you like about him?" He tapped around the topic, he deserved some kind of explanation after that bomb of a statement. There was a part of him that wanted to support you, but it seemed that you didn't even support yourself. Shadow was a complicated person in general, even to befriend, he had a lot of first-hand experience in that.

"Ummm… His personality?" That came out way more in a questioning way than a statement, did you seriously like this guy? He is attractive indeed, but that's just an objective fact, not much of an opinion, but is he enough to make you like him in that way? I mean, sure, you had dreamt of him way too many times, but that's normal, totally platonic, you never kissed him in those dreams, ok, you did fuck that one time, but it doesn't even count.

"Which one? Depressed emotionally unavailable guy?" Your statements did not stop surprising him, it felt like he was chained to the ocean and tortured by feeling the waves hit him with brute force. "Yeah, I guess…" He is sweet in his way, he just has a hard time expressing his emotions. And it's really interesting when he has those moments of talking, he knows a lot about the things he loves. He also gifts you useful things, like vitamins and a spare gun, and he takes the time to teach you how to use it correctly.

"Dude…" You stayed in an awkward silence, him staring at you as if you grew a head out of your toe. He was a hopeful guy, but maybe you weren't part of that hope. He doesn't even know if Shadow even considers him his friend, he will break your heart.

"What? I think I do, like really do. Should I confess?" You gave him a tight-set smile, clearly uncomfortable and scared of that idea. He was unpredictable, and you didn't want him to hate you or be disgusted by you, you are well aware feelings are not his forte, but you don't want to lie to him either, you don't know if you can now that you're aware of this. Sonic's eyebrows dropped and shook his head, no, it was a bad idea.

"I can be your wingman-"

"No." You cut him off, if confessing was bad, having him put you together was ten times worse. You were doomed, you fucked up, you did the only thing you were not supposed to. The moment he saw you panicking internally, he grabbed your shoulder and made you look at him.

"Stop, you're going to be the cutest couple ever, I will make that happen, even if it costs my life." His eyes were determined, they had that characteristic fire he had when battling, it made you calm down, and he always got his way, for better or worse. You gently nodded your head, making the executive decision to put your future love life in his hand. Maybe it was another of your questionable decisions, but you didn't want to deal with that.

Either way, if this goes bad, you can always blame it on Sonic being Sonic

[eocon-fr]

ᯓ translation of Esteban Ocon interview for GQ France

Esteban Ocon the humble formula.

Formula 1 is experiencing a new era, propelled by a growing media hype and a generation of talented drivers. Among them, Esteban Ocon, the new face of the Haas team whose transfer caused a stir this winter. An outstanding competitor who, far from the limelight and the spotlight, favours work and determination to impose himself on the track.

A page has turned for Esteban Ocon this winter. After five seasons defending the colours of Renault and then Alpine, the driver has joined the American team Haas. As is often the case in the merciless world of F1, his transfer was accompanied by its share of feelings, misunderstandings, rumours, and sensational statements. The complicated season of the 28-year-old Frenchman, embellished by an unexpected second place at the Brazilian Grand Prix in early November, ended with an absence that caused a great deal of noise. During the final race of the year in Abu Dhabi, Alpine had indeed lined up its young reserve Australian Jack Doohan alongside Pierre Gasly, reserving Esteban Ocon a back door exit, after 106 Grand Prix contested under the colours of the French team.

But the Norman has seen others during his nine years behind a Formula 1 steering wheel. The real positive change - which he has been able to observe - is the explosion in the popularity of his sport, notably thanks to the Netflix documentary Drive to Survive and especially to the acquisition of F1 by Liberty Media.

"When I arrived in Formula 1 in 2016, I remember the holes in the stands in Austin. The first corner was not complete, he describes. This sport has never been so worked now, and to experience that as a driver is very special. It’s a crazy thing to arrive on the Fan Forum [a stage where drivers are invited for discussions or games on the sidelines of the Grands Prix] and to see a crowd of 80,000 people, you feel like a rock star."

The downside of this medal is constant media noise and vocal fans who exacerbate rivalries and forge reputations that are difficult to change. Type the name of the new Haas driver into YouTube, and you will quickly come across a video called "Why is it so hard to like Esteban Ocon?"

"There is always information that is distorted or taken out of context that will come out, and people who don't understand everything and are quick to criticize, the driver puts it into perspective. But to get back to Netflix, it can't be bad publicity to be [in this series] because it highlights the sport that I've always loved. Even if it's become more of a business than a sport."

I ask him if that hasn't always been the case.

"It's true that watching documentaries and series about Ayrton Senna, James Hunt, or Niki Lauda, ​​you understand that business and politics have always been part of this sport. But I think we've moved to another level. Some drivers cope with it better than others. For me, the important thing is to see who stands out and who does a good qualifying lap in difficult conditions."

The headlines in the press and the buzz on social networks, the stories of drivers who go from heroes to zeros in the space of a race, Esteban Ocon prefers to distance himself from them.

"I understand that it makes the fans react, but it doesn't fascinate me at all," he admits. "I've learned to stay vigilant and know how to anticipate." That's all you ask of an F1 driver, after all."

A turning point in his career

Moreover, a week after his sad deal at Alpine, as the end-of-year holidays approached, the driver seemed to have already digested the episode. He was impatient to begin a new adventure but also to spend time with his family in Normandy.

"We had reached the end of the story with Alpine, and I can't wait to embark on a new challenge with a team that soared last year. I have grown from this period, and I am proud to have brought home the team's best results since my return to Formula 1 in 2016," said the winner of the Hungarian Grand Prix in 2021. "I obviously regret not having been able to fight more often for better positions over the years, and it is obviously not the ending I would have wanted. But it ended like that. One thing is for sure: it was the right time for a renewal."

We discussed his development since his F1 debut almost ten years ago. In 2016, Esteban Ocon became the youngest French driver in history to compete in a Grand Prix. He was barely 20 years old and was racing for the Manor team. After a season at Force India and a spell at Racing Point, the young driver joined Renault in 2020, where he obtained his first podium in Bahrain. A lot of water has flowed under the bridge since then, but Esteban Ocon claims to have always followed the same mantra: getting out of his comfort zone. I ask him if a driver must necessarily change teams at some point to continue his progression. Does love last three years in F1?

"When you have a team and a car that win, there is no reason to change," he smiles.

While the media and social networks have reveled in the supposed tensions between the Alpine team and Esteban Ocon in recent months, and have serialized his rivalry with his teammate Pierre Gasly, the 28-year-old driver assures that his departure is due to a single desire: to embark on a new and exciting project to rediscover the pleasure on the track. But it is also a question of human relationships and trust. At Haas, Esteban Ocon will indeed be reunited with Ayao Komatsu, his very first F1 race engineer, who became the principal of the American team, who joined the paddock in 2016.

"He is not the type to make promises without having a plan to keep them. He explained to me his vision of things and the progress he envisaged for the team. As the races went on, I saw that these were not empty words, as there can be many in motorsport."

Haas went from tenth and last place in the constructors' standings in 2023 to seventh position in 2024. Last year, the team extended its collaboration with Ferrari for the engines and also formed a new technical partnership with Toyota. That said, Esteban Ocon knows that his mission does not look easy.

"We're going to have a lot of work both [with the young British driver Oliver Bearman]. We have a huge project on the simulator that is not up to par, for example. It's a fairly young team that needs drivers who are 100% involved. It's a great project," he enthuses.

To build strong ties with his new team this winter, and to put all the chances on his side, the Frenchman explains to me that the engineers from the Haas team will spend time with him near Annecy, at 321 perform, a center specializing in high-level sport, and in particular stress management. The goal of this course is to establish psychological profiles. In concrete terms, it involves putting each member of the group in stressful situations. The psychologists or the coach ask very tough and very personal questions, without the answers being revealed to the group. A collective debriefing then takes place. The goal: to observe each person's reactions and give them the keys to manage the pressure and the inevitable moments of tension.

"A drama teacher will also intervene, and I think it will be a shock for the new engineers. The team boss Ayao [Komatsu] will come too, but we're going to spare him, Esteban Ocon laughs. During these kinds of sessions, we break down all the barriers, and it leads to the most embarrassing situations. I hope none of these exercises come out!" Imagine role playing, singing, shouting. He gets serious again: "We're going to experience difficult moments during the season, and we have to be able to tell each other everything. It's super important to create a bond as soon as possible and for them to be able to see the submerged part of the iceberg of a driver's life. It's not just arriving at the circuit and putting on your suit."

Championing your bridle and learning from your mistakes

Sometimes, being an F1 driver means forcing yourself to stay up until the early hours of the morning. While Esteban Ocon poses in front of our photographer's lens with more ease than you would have thought, as comfortable in a full denim look as in a leather jacket, his partner Flavy Barla talks to me about the end of the 2024 season and how she supports him. About ten days before the Las Vegas Grand Prix at the end of November, the couple, for example, switched to the Nevada time zone... from Europe.

"We went to bed around 5 or 6 a.m. and went up around 3 or 4 p.m. These moments are difficult because we live completely out of step with the whole world, but it helps me a lot once I'm there, Esteban Ocon puts it into perspective. The life of a driver doesn't leave room for compromise, and everything I do on a daily basis is with a view to the car race. It's when you've prepared the best that you get the best grades."

In this respect, years of experience pay off. Because Esteban Ocon hasn't always been so ready. The former Alpine driver remembers a particularly difficult race during his first season because he had shifted his sleep by four hours... in the wrong direction.

"When I arrived, I was upside down," he jokes today, specifying that his coach Tom Clark, a jet-lag specialist, now concocts a specific program for him based on melatonin and blackouts glasses. Not very sexy, but effective.

"All this means that I am often tired between races, but in good shape in the moments that count. Each season, with my team, we put something more in place in my preparation, to perform better throughout the year", the Frenchman emphasizes.

What did he learn last year?

"At the end of the season, I was working in the heat to prepare for races like Singapore", he tells me, describing hellish one-and-a-half-hour rowing or cycling sessions in the sauna. "But it was cold in Qatar this year! It was the hardest race in history. I was cold in the car. Now, I know that the only race to prepare for the heat is Singapore."

At the beginning of October 2023, the drivers suffered from the heat in Doha (up to 40 degrees), and Esteban Ocon even threw up in his helmet during the race. The Emirati GP is now taking place a few weeks later to avoid these mishaps. Since his first steps in F1, Esteban Ocon has seen the calendar change and new urban circuits (Las Vegas, Miami) and other destinations (the Losail circuit in Qatar and the Jeddah circuit in Saudi Arabia) appear. 21 Grands Prix were contested in 2016 compared to 24 today, and this change of schedule inevitably affects the pace of training and life of the drivers.

"Ideally, I should already be starting my physical preparation [the interview was conducted on December 14]. But we have less and less time off-season to really develop the physical part. So you have to be very efficient and assiduous during these times to build up your health and energy capital for the whole year."

On the program are full days of training with lots of cardio and muscle strengthening, and meals every two hours.

"It's important to have endurance and mass at the start of the season because racing dries you out a lot."

Despite these new constraints and all the work that awaits him at Haas, Esteban Ocon seems to have put all the chances on his side to bounce back in 2025 and beyond.

[porcupine-girl]

I teach Intro to Psych, and I’m lecturing on operant conditioning next week. I always tell my students this story:

When I took this class, lo these many years ago, I remember thinking, if punishment doesn’t work very well on animals (because it doesn’t), why does it work on humans? Specifically at the time I was thinking about spanking kids, which I had grown up with as normal parenting behavior in the 80s, but also punishment in general.

And it wasn’t until years later that I realized that the answer is - IT DOESN’T. And research absolutely backs that up.

Punishment is one of the least effective ways of changing behavior in humans, too! The behavior change you do sometimes get is people trying to avoid punishment, but that doesn’t mean stopping the behavior you punished - it often means just finding ways to do it that are less likely to get you caught. Lying, hiding things, being sneakier about it. And that’s when you get any change at all.

Spanking, of course, has whole other issues - namely that it turns out children learn by watching others, not simple conditioning, so spanking them makes them more likely to be violent themselves.

Look, the behaviorists were wrong in that they thought conditioning was the be-all end-all of learning, when in fact life and psychology are far, far more complicated and messy than that - but even they knew that punishment isn’t nearly as effective as rewards. (Neither is as effective as addressing the underlying motivation behind the behavior, which they wanted to ignore entirely, but even they knew this much.)

If you’re telling yourself that your desire to punish people is rooted in wanting to change their behavior, please accept what decades of science has told us: IT DOESN’T.

One of the most important things to unpack and unlearn when you’re part of a white supremacy saturated society (i.e. the global north) and especially if you were raised in an intensified form of it (evangelicism, right wing politics, explicit racism) is the urge to punish and take revenge.

It manifests in our lives all the time and it is inherently destructive. It makes relationships and interactions adversarial for no good reason. It undermines cooperation and good civic order. It worsens some types of crime. It creates trauma, especially in children.

Imagine approaching unexpected or unacceptable behavior from a perspective of "how can this be stopped, and prevented" instead of "you’re going to regret this!”

Imagine dealing with a problem or conflict from the perspective of “how can this be solved in a way that is just and restorative” instead of “the people who caused this are going to pay.”

How much would that change you? How much would that have changed for you?

[cipheramnesia]

Hey I'm not a big horror person myself, I get scared very easily, but you're telling me the overuse of cozy has extended to horror?

I genuinely don't know what or where cozy is going, but I decided to poke around and at least find out what it means. The simplest and easiest way to contextualize "cozy horror" is as modern folktales and campfire stories. It's a bit more complicated than all that, but that's kind of the foundations of it.

Alright, so first, my basic searching points to "The H Word: Getting Cozy with Horror" by José Cruz, published in Nightmare in 2021 as the place where it was coined, and seems to be what the few articles trying to define it point to. As far as I can tell, that site is offline, but you can read it archived here. Anyway, this thing breaks it down as "Familiar" (which seems to be primarily described as nostalgia), "Sensuous" (in the sense of stimulating senses - distinct from stimulating emotions), "Distant" (feeling insulated from the frightening elements, or safe), and "Fun" (meaning it tends to resolve without significant emotional or physical trauma). Some of that is me putting words in his mouth, so I'd encourage anyone interested to poke through the article. To me, his examples are what speak more directly. With the exception of "Night of the Creeps" he uses examples like Dracula, gothic horror, IT, the Goosebumps series, Creepshow, and the old Peter Cushing and Vincent Price 70s movies. These examples, to my eyes, all have something of the scary story that gets passed around between adolescents or as online urban legends and sometimes creepy pastas.

Anyway, as with any new idea there's the option of throwing it away and calling bullshit (generally my inclination with "elevated horror"), or taking it more at face value, which I'm a little more inclined towards with "cozy horror." For me, I suppose it's the way the core elements seem close to slightly more old fashioned "thrills and chills" horror that makes me charitably inclined - if you read the article, it's practically dripping with the abstract concept of "the good old days." And that serves as a solid foundation for quite a lot of horror. There's coming of age stories, updated vampire tales, folk horror of all ages, dark fairytales, sure. You know, it fills a useful spot, yeah? It may help that I'm coming from the perspective of a horror movie fan who very ardently seeks out dusturbing and transgressive movies or gouts of blood or warped flesh, without any interest in whether it makes me frightened, that it's easy to see how much enjoyment someone can get out of an evil murder clown which is safely defeated at the end of the day - just like it happens in Killer Klowns from Outer Space.

So it's not quite folktales, but it overlaps and next time a person talks about it you probably know the vibe. However. This subgenres has got a HUGE ASS or, put another way, a big but.

If you clicked through the article first, I imagine your reaction to the first few paragraphs might be something like mine, a knee jerk "this guy doesn't know what the fuck he's talking about." I think that's not correct, but after the cool off period, it's clear that he's either in some kind of a horror media social bubble, or he's not engaging with a lot of the genre. There's a kind of distastefulness about modern horror, described like a friend who changed into a pretentious stranger after college - as if modern horror has become all about emotional shock value, serious psychological torture porn. Which is not only unfair and incorrect, it's myopic. The ugly undercurrent to cozy horror is the overly pleasant and sickeningly kind suggestion that we don't need all this modernity, followed by the paternal recommendation that it's much better if we all just embrace the old traditions. And I don't think that's innate to cozy horror or cozy whatever, more that we don't always realize when we pull some ugly undercurrent of society up with an idea, and like when has horror not had problematic elements right? But there's no ignoring that a drive towards nostalgia, isolation, emotional suppression, and total safety can take a very bad turn in excess.

So that's cozy horror I figure. Interesting branch of folklore, but needs moderation like all things.

[barbstail]

How babies are made.

(My headcannons explain on how babies/children work in Devildom and Celestial realm for my AU)

•Both Demon and Angel can either be created or reproduce through regular means.

•Both species having long life spans and incredible power but have incredibly low fertility.

•many pairings may try for centuries and still have very little success.

•you may think angels don’t have pairings at all but they do. The celestial realm doesn’t do marriages instead they do “soulmates” which is seen as far more deeper of a bond than marriage.

•typically, romantic relationships in the celestial realm are seen as either for the lower ranks or for those who use to be human and the high ranks are to busying serving the realm and their lord God.

•Demons on the other hand are far more free and open minded to things like one night stands, open relationships, courtship, marriages, and etc.

•Since demons live in such a dangerous climate, they often try harder for kids to make up for deaths.

•Many Demons or Angels might be tempted to pair with a human as humans are far more successful then them when it comes to making kids, but hybrids are frowned upon by both cultures for a variety of reasons.

•Hybrids are said to be at a risk of health complications, weakness, deformities, and even severe discrimination.

•As for how true the negative rumors are about hybrids is something that has been debated by both sides for centuries.

•because of low fertility rates, children are a group who are deeply cherished by both cultures.

•Both angels and demons have different ideas to raise their younglings but they can both agree that their children deserve autonomy and basic respect.

•Hitting/beating children is seen as very taboo on both sides.

•Both demons and angels would see how a lot of human children are raised and treated to be very bizarre.

•As children age their age begins to slow down until they reach adulthood and their aging is stunted.

*Because of the lack of children it’s not uncommon for parents to agree to share the parenting with very close friends or relatives so they can share the joy of raising a child.

•Angels in particular are very communal when it comes to raising their young. It seen as part of the community’s job to help care for young and to make sure they will have a place within the community once they reach full maturity.

(Lookin at look Luke with his 4-6 dads)

•It’s very common for angels who were created to be raised by their other siblings who were also created not born.

(Idk might make a part 2 if I come up with more ideas)

[goldenrodchef]

I...think now might be a good time to share how my dad makes pokeballs.

All you really need is an apricorn and a tumblestone, and maybe a latch for convenience.

First, crack the apricorn in half. They're pretty brittle, so it's not too hard to do.

Then, use the tumblestone to scoop out the insides of the apricorn, so that only the rind remains.

There'll be tiny flakes of the tumblestone left inside. Do not clean them out, they're essential to the process.

After a few minutes, the tumblestone flakes will bind with the apricorn rind, giving it the properties of a pokeball, along with preventing the rind from rotting.

All you need now is something to keep the two halves together, and you have a pokeball!

The materials are really cheap. Common tumblestones are about a dozen for 10₽, and since they take a long time to wear down all the way, you're set for a very long time with even just one. And brown apricorns are about 5₽ each here. That's 15₽ for a single hand-made pokeball, far cheaper than the standard retail price of 200₽ for a factory-made one.

Of course, that's only a standard pokeball, and it doesn't have some of the fancy stuff that factory pokeballs have, like registration to a trainer ID. But you can get patches that apply that stuff from many pokecenters, so I don't think it's a big deal.

For more complicated pokeballs, you'll need different types of apricorns and tumblestones. A friend ball, for example, needs a green apricorn and a fern tumblestone.

But this is just the basics. I'm not an expert, this is all just stuff I've learned from my dad and mom. They could probably tell this all better than I could.

But, um. I hope this helps.

[lilacchao]

alright, time for me to Opine Lengthily as i often do

continents are trying to do to much at once - they're simultaneously distinguishing geology and culture, two hugely complicated things, and we should have more Types Of Thing than just continents

plate tectonics are a good start, they give us some decent chunks and happen to already have some very useful coincidences built in (arabian plate, indian plate, north / south american and caribbean plates, australian plate, isn't it great?)

but some of these aren't useful, and some are too big and demand further subdivisions, probably by bodies of water and mountain ranges and deserts and peninsulas and population density first, oh wait the un's done this job already! that saves me a lot of work (i'd... already done a lot of that work, but it was shoddy work, based partially on my eurocentric prior knowledge, best let it stay shrouded in mystery)

a lot of this seems well justified, but some of it's rubbish born from "well we don't want to split a country in two because this is for diplomacy" (yes we do, countries are too big, split them in twain! screw diplomacy! destroy any justification they might have for their ridiculous "borders"!) or "we don't have any good reason politically to distinguish these" (fuck politics, cleave those nations)

let's have a look at mountain ranges, drainage basins as shorthands for mountain ranges, population density, big things like the sahara and the amazon and the

mountain ranges:

drainage basins:

the köppen climate classification:

population density:

the amazon rainforest:

the sahara desert:

so. the un's thing is deeply flawed, but is a huge step up from the ridiculous 7 continents (or is it 6, or 5, or 4, or 8, or 12?) that people get taught (and everyone gets taught differently), and does have the advantage of major organisations actually referencing it for anything! im gonna make some more subdivisions though, because while some of these are sensible, wow some are ridiculous

reasonable-looking-at-a-glance subdivisions:

northern america: alaska, the remaining pacific drainage basin, greenland + all those islands, the remaining arctic drainage basin, northeast of the great lakes (the labrador peninsula), the remaining euroafrican drainage basin, the gulf coast of the us, the remaining american drainage basin

central america: the caribbean plate, the remaining pacific drainage basin, the remaining american drainage basin (basically the gulf coast of mexico)

south america: the amazon (and north/west of it), the andes and pacific drainage basin, eastern south america

eastern europe: central europe (the area of eastern europe the holy roman empire once occupied, this is a big deal culturally, the pope got involved and everything), eastern europe (west of the ural mountains), siberia (east of the ural mountains)

asia: idk enough about asia to say much about these, except that the indian subcontinent should probably be distinguished

africa: similar boat to asia, i simply don't know enough to question this, it takes the sahara into account, it's correctly split from the arabian plate, i can't really subdivide it drainage-wise, yeah

australia and new zealand: new zealand (it's so far away from australia! stop conflating them!), other than that uhhhhh the drainage divisions look good so probably some combinations of these? west, central, east coast, north peninsula? (ha! you thought you were free of images! you were wrong!)

anyway so i don't know enough geography to back any of this up but i do think im erring closer to correct than the un here, at least partly because i don't believe in or respect states, and i think i learnt a lot and made an informative post here, so yay! *closes the 103 tabs i opened throughout this post*

I think it's time we all got serious. Europe isn't a continent lmao and the only reason anyone thinks it is is because white people are too racist to share a continent with nonwhite people so they split it from Asia arbitrarily.

[yinemw]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐲𝐚

context: letters shared between villain dabi and pro-hero reader. (The parts that are marked like this mean they are marked off and unreadable to the receiver)

warnings: angst, swearing and Dabi talking about dying

character: Dabi/Touya Todoroki from mha

m.list

To Dabi

I know I’m the last person you probably want to hear from right now, considering all things. But I didn’t know, I mean how could I. You never told me he is your father. You rushed away so fast after our last meeting and you blocked my number. I thought writing you a letter would be better, to explain my side and hope that I’ll find Toga and get her to deliver this to you.

I care for you Dabi, whether you believe me or not it’s up to you, but I really do care. Why else would I let you crash at my place, eat my food and…just talk. You trusted me with your number and I trusted you with mine, and despite everything, those late night phone calls we shared mean the world to me. For a second I felt normal, didn’t have to think about heros or villains or my work, it was just you and me.

You never told me who you are, who you really are. And it was enough to just know you as Dabi, as the villain I stumbled upon all bloody and weak in an alley way one night, brought back home and ‘healed’ back to health. It was obvious your real name wasn’t Dabi, or that you were born with your scars and burnt skin, so I was always curious about your past. Your secrets. I didn’t think finding out who you really are would be the end of our relationship friendship. The way you reacted when I said your real name…I’ve never seen that look before and I knew I had messed up. I’m sorry Dabi, for snooping in your past. I broke our promise, but I hope you can forgive me.

From…Y/n you know who

Stupid hero, sending a letter like we’re back in the 70s. Blocked your number for a reason, and there you go finding another way to contact me. Surprised you couldn’t find where I’m staying despite knowing everything else about me. Cute of you to not include my real name in your letter, scared it might have ended up in someone else’s hands and my identity is out to the public? Don’t be, I’m gonna reveal my identity soon enough. Make my father know exactly who I am.

You’re really quite something I have to admit, having found out who I am. Was it Hawks who helped you? Or maybe I underestimated you, you’re a pro hero after all, even if the whole system is a joke. I am curious though, you say you care about me, yet you continue to work with my father. Funny really, don’t you think?

Doesn’t matter, I’m done with you. Was nice not starving and have a roof over my head, but that’s all it was. I’d start training harder, hero, you have no idea what’s coming.

To Touya

Thank you for writing back, it was unexpected to see your letter on my pillow. I wish you would have stayed so we could have talked in person, but I’ll respect your space.

I didn’t know you were planning on going public with your identity. I have to admit, the entire idea does sound alarming and your ‘warning’ is, not ideal to say the least. We always talked about what we would do when the day comes that we stand on opposite sides of the battle field, and by the sound of it, that day is coming faster then I thought.

You’re right, it does sound ridiculous when I say I love care about you, and continue to work with your father. I simply haven’t been able to come so far yet, I’m not entirely sure where my career is heading. I’ve gotten so used to working with Endeavor and Hawks, been in their shadow in a way, but always there. Helping civilians to safety and using my quirk to help as best as I can, they’re my safety net, I guess. You’re right, continuing to work with him is a mistake. But you have to understand Touya, it’s more complicating than just ‘stop working with him’. I’ll figure it out, I promise, please just give me time.

(P.s next time you come over, please feel free to take as much food as you need and blankets/pillows if you need)

From Y/n

Publicly going solo, huh? Have to say, was kinda hot seeing you on TV saying how you’re an independent hero now, not working with others. Got everyone shocked to say the least, all eyes on you. Been telling you since the beginning you’re better than all those other stupid hero’s, don’t know why you’ve been hiding in their shadows.

You’re one tough cookie to crack, and I have to admit, thinking about fighting you isn’t exactly…fun. Your quirk is annoying and to be honest, I’m not even sure which one of us would win. But you’re not my main focus, so do me a favor, stay out of this fight, yeah?

P.s the pasta you made could have used less salt, just sayin

To Touya

Your notes are so short Touya, and you still won’t see me in person, please, I need to see you. I seriously can’t take this anymore, us tip-toeing around our…well whatever we are. You’re even harder to read through your scribbles and wrinkled paper you leave on my pillow. I hate to confess through a letter, especially during times like these when the entire country is anxious. But I feel like I’m losing you, for real this time.

Touya I love like you, more than a friend. It became so much more than just a ‘hero-villain friendship’. You become apart of my life, apart of my routine. I would wait everyday by my window, just to see if you would come by and sneak into my apartment. I would make your favorite meals, just in case you came by and were hungry. My life was finally exciting, I was looking forward to something, to just see or hear you. You weren’t just a broken villain to me Touya, you were everything.

I wish you would have told me about your plans, I wish you would have told me everything about you. And I know that’s a selfish thought, but the whispers in the hero community are starting to freak me out. Touya you have no idea what you’re up against, and I’m afraid I won’t be able to save you this time.

Please, come back to me.

From Y/n

So the hero fell for the villain, huh? Typical, feels like some cheesy trope from a movie. I would go as far as to call you pathetic, the way you talk about me. You have so much to live for, yet seeing me excited you. Must have been one boring life you lived before me.

Doesn’t matter, nothing you say will change my mind. It’s not about you, believe it or not. Was never about you. You fucked me up, real good in fact. Postponed all my damn plans. Nights I was supposed to spend with the league, I couldn’t help myself but to spend with you, do you know how much trouble I got into? Not that I cared, spending time with you wasn’t exactly bad.

I still remember your shocked face when you started to see my white roots, how you bought black hair dye and helped me dye my hair whenever I needed. Or the way you looked all lovesick whenever I enjoyed your cooking. Even the first night I slept in your damn bed and voluntarily cuddled up to you, I could hear how fast your heart was beating. You seriously think I didn’t know that you like me? Stupid hero. You made it quite obvious, not to mention you got quite touchy too. Not that I minded. But none of it matters, because we can’t be together. Ever. Now stop using Toga as the mailman and leave all of this behind you for good.

To Touya

You finally got what you wanted, for people to know the truth. How does it feel? Satisfied? I guess you’ll only be at peace once Endeavor is dead, so this is just the beginning, am I right?

You held back during our last battle, I could see how angry you were when I showed up to defend Endeavor. I know you’re upset, I know he ruined your life and hurt you in ways I cannot imagine, but murder is not the way. I will not let you kill him.

I don’t know where you went into hiding, but I know you’re injured. Please tell me where you are so I can make sure you’re okay. Please. I love care for you so much I can’t stand this anymore.

From Y/n

I’m sorry. Wow, feels weird even writing it down. I’ll hand you this ‘letter’ myself, before the league attacks. I want you to know, I don’t intend surviving this fight, although if you’re reading this, it means I’m already dead. Not like you’ll have time to read a stupid letter before having to fight to survive lol.

I want you to know that this is the way I want to go. By killing him. My quirk will destroy my body Y/n, and I don’t want you to see that. My body, destroyed and burnt to pieces. I may be a villain, but even I have a heart, and I don’t want your last memory of me to be a corpse. So instead, think of our happy memories. The nights we sat on your roof and smoked, or when you taught me how to meditate and we ended up laughing for hours, or even the time we went to 7-11 undercover so no one would know it’s us and ended up buying those damn good iced coffee’s.

We were never meant to be Y/n, doomed from the start actually. From the moment you decided to save me instead of turning me in to the police and putting me behind bars. You’re a fool, so stupid. Fuck, I really hate you, you know? I don’t even know what to write, you make me feel all stupid and warm, and then all fucked up and mad because I know next time I see you will most likely be the last.

Fuck, I love you. And I know you’re not where I am, you may like some part of me and care for me, but I know someone like you could never love me. But it’s better this way, hurts less. Can’t believe it hurts at all, thought I was numb until I met you. But I love you, I really fucking love you.

P.s I left my phone at your apartment, it’s under your pillow. You know the passcode. There’s a bunch of crap on it, mostly pictures and videos of us or whatever.

Love, Touya

[rei-ismyname]

Cyclops mourns Logan

Pretty sure he's dated more psychics than that

They really called it Cyclops in YOU. Hell yeah. Anyway, Logan is dead. Scott, unaware that he's in a comic book, is treating this event as if it's forever. Lucky for us, because their messed up relationship is like crack for me. He considers how Logan was his most complicated relationship, and that's a lot coming from him.

There's definitely resentment there, because Logan was and is a selfish jerk. It's refreshing honesty, and very Scott Summers. He's remembering all the different ways in which Logan made his life harder, acted like a creep, or spited him needlessly, yet Logan's death is keeping Scott up at night.

I love this flashback to after the Dark Phoenix Saga (I think) and it makes pretty clear that Logan transferred his idealisation from Jean to Scott. Scott is standing at his wife's grave and somehow Logan manages to make literally everything about him. At least he acknowledges his grief and says 'sorry for your loss.' Wait, no that doesn't happen actually. The bastard just tells him he's not allowed to quit because of his psychosexual obsession. I wonder what Scott is thinking as he walks off. An optic blast in the back would be somewhat justified (and funny) but Scott usually has better self control than that.

He considers the aftermath of Fatal Attractions, when Magneto performed field surgery on his bones. Logan definitely wasn't used to not being immortal and the apex murderer. His recovery was long and his whining intense.

Is Scott biting Magneto there?

Scott approaches Logan as he's punishing himself in the Danger Room and echoes his words back to him, offering him a hand up. He remembers the heartwarming threats and the good times shared together fighting for their lives. Brothers in grief and violence, rivals who are simultaneously paternal figures to each other.

Scott is very prone to blaming himself for things going wrong, and Logan was always there to remind him. I don't think he's being fair on himself but he never really is. Blaming Scott for things is an X-Men sport. He repeats Logan's insane words for a third time - 'we don't get to quit.' Scott cries in the snow on all fours outside the base where Logan was repeatedly tortured and dehumanised, but he doesn't quit.

Scott imagines what Logan's funeral would be like, and he's not far off. He thinks hard about an appropriate way to honour his memory. The answer is obvious - alcohol and violence. I have no doubt Scott knows exactly where every mutant hater watering hole is, but it's funnier to imagine him wandering around until he finds one.

Proving he knows him pretty damn well, Scott sends Logan off by beating the shit out of some bigots and drinking over their unconscious bodies. 'Here's to you, bub. See you in a year or so.' Cyclops is pretty famous at this point, so these dudes probably know exactly who he is. They'll be telling that story for a while, of the time they were drinking and hating on mutants then Scott Summers came out of nowhere to fuck them up. Logan wouldn't be proud exactly, but he'd probably grunt and call him bub. That's practically 'I love you' from Logan, and Scott loves his dumb ass too.

[not-that-dillinger]

Ed paused for a moment, thinking what he had that Tron would like.

"A lot of that's going to be baked goods, cookies, muffins, that sort of thing. I unfortunately can't have the normal kind, and the gluten free stuff is unfortunately usually disappointing," he apologized. "What I do have... Yoghurt or rice pudding is probably a bit messy for what you're looking for, else I have granola with chocolate and dried fruit, or kettle corn... Unless you just want an fruit or something? You're also welcome to the licorice, though it's a bit of a hit or miss thing. Some people like it, others hate it."

Ed glanced at Tron, catching his curious look at the auto injector. It wasn't something he usually talked about, or liked to talk about. He didn't usually talk about it because allergies were a vulnerability, and one that had been used against him before. Except he's talked about it with Eve and Yori. Ed wasn't sure if he ever directly explained it to Sam, but his younger brother certainly caught on to Ed's condition by now, Jet seemed to have realized something was up, and if Ed had to guess, Alan's seen enough of his eating habits, if he hadn't noticed that Ed refused to eat the free lunches when they were offered at a company event or the anything at Mackey's ridiculous mandatory parties.

If Tron was going to spend any time with Ed, then the number of questions would only multiply, and Ed would rather be the one to explain it.

Tron was also there to protect him. If there ever was an emergency where it became relevant, it would be better if Tron knew about it. Trust was tenuous at best, but...

"It's called an auto injector," Ed explained quietly. The words came out easily. Maybe it was because Yori and Eve trusted him, and Ed trusted them more than anyone else. Maybe it was that the genuine curiosity reminded him more of his interns, or that Tron didn't ask. Ed wasn't sure.

"Medicine, for my allergies, in case of an emergency. My body for whatever reason mistakes the protein structure of certain foods for viruses or something, and overreacts to it. The gluten thing is similar, but a different reaction. Less dangerous in the short term, but can lead to complications if not managed. The preventative measures are similar enough that I just treat them as the same thing."

The mental image of Peter in his stupid fancy suit covered in slime makes Ed crack a smile. The only thing better would be if Beck had been there to greet his father with the slime cannon, though Ed was still just relieved that the man was finally behind bars, and he hoped Peter wouldn't be far behind.

"Yeah," he agreed. "As funny as that would be, it would be best not to have to try to come up with another explanation to give the authorities."

Ed huffed, stifled a laugh. It wasn't... bitter laughter, though it wasn't quite amusement, either. "Idiot beta, sounds about right," he said.

"As far as Peter... it's likely that may have been one of his programs? As I understand it, he was one of Encom's programmers, before he became Dillinger's assistant."

He stiffened at the contact, but it did manage to pull him back to the present. He turned from the cooler, back to the fridge. "I--I know. And... thank you. I know.... you're still recovering, and had probably hoped the peace would last a bit longer, but. I do appreciate you being here."

At least, Ed had hoped the peace would last longer. At least a few more months. If anyone deserved the time to recover in peace, if not to live out the rest of their runtime without any further disturbance, it was Tron. He hated that he was the one to disrupt it.

Ed retrieved his epinephrine auto injector. Thanks to Yori, he hadn't needed it in years, but he wasn't fool enough to leave home without it. He of course had another one in the small fridge under his desk, but he wouldn't have access to his office, but that was meant to be a backup, and it was better to stay in the habit of carrying one with him everywhere, anyway.

He retrieved the holster from the drawer next to the refrigerator, slipped the auto injector into it, and then clipped it to his belt.

"Anyway... anything you want, snacks for later?"

[lemotmo]

This seems like the most logical way forward to me as well. Where do you stand on this?

Q. I'm just curious why you no longer believe that making Eddie gay really works story wise? What do you mean by that? I think the story mostly needs him to be gay given how long it has taken.

A. How long it has taken is precisely why making him gay now doesn't really flow as smoothly from a story perspective as it did in season 5. When Ana was introduced the only thing we knew or saw of Eddie's romantic past was his version of his history with Shannon and their brief reconnection prior to her death. So tying the root of their problems to Eddie trying to force himself to be straight could have and would have worked. If they had been able to go with the original plan for season 5 then it wouldn't have been an issue but the audience knows better now. Sex with Shannon was the one part of their relationship that worked. That was established. We saw it. The Ana stuff was more complicated for numerous reasons besides the fact that she was supposed to be his coming out arc. For one it was during COVID and they simply couldn't film that kind of stuff, she was also the first woman in Christopher and Eddie's life since Shannon's death, and the show made a point of telling that story between Eddie and Chris. Then between the end of his relationship with Ana and now the show also doubled down on his love for Shannon. And then there's Marisol. Physical intimacy was not the problem in their relationship. It was established, by Eddie himself, that prior to her nun reveal they had an active and good sex life. So it's far more believable from a story standpoint now to believe that his subconscious attached itself to the nun nonsense as an excuse for him to sabotage the relationship. Once he asked her to move in the relationship became serious and he needed an out. Which is not unlike Eddie to do.

Yes the original plan for Ana was his gay arc but when FOX cut that, the story they went with just Eddie not being in love with her. A stranger calling her 'mom' caused panic attacks. But the show has also established that Buck is very much a part of their family and it doesn't freak Eddie out in any way. They've already been telling that story so to tie Eddie's feelings realization to that, makes perfect sense. And now makes more story sense than Eddie realizing he's gay. That doesn't mean they can't or won't go the gay route, but it is true that making him gay is not as clean of a story route as it once was. And it's okay to say that. Buck and Eddie's canon viability is not contingent on one of them being gay. It's contingent on Oliver and Ryan's chemistry and the ability of the writing to give them something to work with. Chemistry will never be an issue for Oliver and Ryan, they've already shown they have that in spades. The show is also not going to make both of them bisexual. Again, something that Buck himself has yet to acknowledge he actually is. I just think from the show's perspective the Buck and Eddie of it all is what's important, more important than how they identify individually going forward. And that's also okay. Your ability to ship them shouldn't rely on one of them identifying as gay either. Of course representation is important but 911 is hardly lacking in inclusivity. We ship them for everything else about them that their canon history has already given us. Please understand that I'm not at all saying it won't work to make him gay or it's bad story telling to make him gay, that's not what I'm saying. But it's not as smooth of a story now as it was back in season 5. Identifying as gay will not be a wrong way to go, but it's not necessary for the story either.

Thank you Nonny!

I said it before and I'll say it again: I can see this going both ways at this moment. I've read compelling 'gay Eddie' meta and I've now read Ali's compelling 'unlabeled Eddie' meta. Both are possible in my eyes and I'd be fine with either of them to be honest. There is something to be said for both of these scenarios.

My problem with well-written meta is that it all sounds good and plausible, so I tend to agree with most of it. 🤣🤣🤣

My dream is still demisexual bi Eddie, but I don't think the show would ever go there.

Whatever the show decides to do, I'm just going to go with the flow. These guys deserve happiness, so them finally being together and in love will be a beautiful thing to witness on screen, no matter what label they have.

Heads up! For anyone who is giving me the shifty eyes for reposting Ali's updates instead of reblogging. Read this.

Remember, no hate in comments, reblogs or inboxes. Let's keep it civil and respectful. Thank you.

If you are interested in more of Ali’s posts, you can find all of her posts so far under the tag: anonymous blog I love.

[seriousbrat]

what do you think the wizarding world economy is? I don’t think they’re capitalist, they’re obviously not communists, but I’m not sure beyond them. sometimes I think it must be a state run restricted market but maybe it’s just a bunch of cottage industries? they don’t seem involved in agriculture.

I kind of see the WW as a culture of the upper classes only, like the majority of magical folk occupied a higher classes status than serfs (like those in a religious order, maybe, and aristocracy) which further complicates this question

omg I'll be honest, I'm not super well versed in economics to be able to give a very educated or definitive answer to this haha, but it's an interesting topic! Also there's not that much specific information in canon, because I don't think jkr gave this any thought whatsoever lmao. Which to be fair is not really necessary to do in a kid's fantasy.

The government does regulate the market-- such as with Percy's cauldron bottoms haha. Percy mentions that this crucial world-changing bit of legislation is specifically meant to address imported cauldrons, indicating there is trade with other nations, and trade agreements. The Ministry also regulates import/export, which we also see with Ali Bashir and his carpets. Given Crouch and Percy's attitudes towards both Ali Bashir and the foreign cauldron bottoms, I think it's very possible that the Ministry's policy towards international trade is generally protectionist rather than free-trade. Tariffs for everyone! 😬

It seems as though goods are generally produced through craftsmanship rather than large-scale industrial processes. As far as I can remember there's never any mention of any factories or true industrialisation of any sort, rather goods such as broomsticks, snitches, wands, robes are produced by hand, on an individual basis by dedicated craftsmen.

So you could be right about cottage industries being prevalent in terms of internal trade; it's honestly probably some sort of mixed economy with maybe lingering elements of mercantilism (which would make sense given they're 'behind' the Muggle world in many respects.) but I'm not certain what, if anything, Britain would export. Possibilities are potions ingredients, broomsticks, robes (this would be a good parallel to Britain's history with the textile industry) or, perhaps, floo powder.

Floo powder is maybe an interesting product to look at. According to this pottermore entry on Floo Powder, manufacture of Floo powder is strictly controlled, and "no shortage of Floo powder has ever been reported, nor does anybody know anyone who makes it. Its price has remained constant for one hundred years: two Sickles a scoop." So that does seem to indicate a high level of intervention in trade by the Ministry. Also i have no idea what the fact that the price hasn't changed for a century says about either inflation or currency rates lol.

Anyway, tbh I think they must engage in agriculture in some fashion, because a girl's gotta eat and we know that food cannot be magically produced. I guess it's possible that they somehow exchange with Muggles (or other wizarding states. this seems more likely. maybe spain lol, since a lot of produce sold in the UK is grown here.) But I tend to think they're mostly self-sustaining.

Agriculture can be made much more efficient through the use of magic, basically eliminating a lot of the manual labour involved. You'd also need much less space (and it's already a reduced population) and could potentially speed up the time it takes to grow crops. The Weasleys have a vegetable patch and pigs and chickens-- many magical families seem to live in rural areas so I can imagine there might be a system where families who grow crops and/or keep livestock can trade in surplus produce for refined goods such as flour, oil, etc or 'luxury' goods like chocolate. Some sort of state-organised smallholding situation makes more sense to me as opposed to large-scale agricultural production.

As far as I can recall, we have no canon examples of anyone going shopping for food. But there must be something in place. The Hogwarts kitchens must go through an incredible amount of supplies (and yes food can be magically multiplied, but even so) and it has to come from somewhere. It's likely that the Hogwarts house-elves deal with procurement themselves.

Speaking of which, there's also the factor of slavery forming a part of this society and therefore the economy. We know of the existence of 'elf-made wine,' although this is treated in canon as a luxury good. It's likely that most wine is made through magic. There's a spell that produces a 'fountain of wine' and it's unclear whether beverages are beholden to the food exception to gamp's law. Either way it's almost certainly possible to transfigure grapes directly into wine, and therefore wine produced artisanally (by elves) is given more value. Basically I don't think they have elves engaged in industrial-scale labour, but they still form a part of the economy in some way.

And the other thing to consider (and that we don't know) is to what extent the goblins are involved in the wizarding economy and in what way. They control the only bank and also control the production of currency. I developed some Goblin lore a while ago, which you can find here, but something I theorised is that Goblins don't actually value wizarding currency internally within their own society (rather precious metals themselves) and basically use it as a means to exert some influence over wizarding society, to keep themselves afloat so that wizards don't completely subjugate them the way they have the house-elves. Technically the Goblins (as I envision them) would be Bullionist I believe. But the wizarding economy and the goblin economy would be closely intertwined, basically interdependent.

So... I'm just not sure how all this would be defined lmao. This got very long because I was just vomiting every possible thought about the wizarding economy lol so sorry. Perhaps someone who knows more about economics than me (art degree lol) would be able to give a better answer haha.

like the majority of magical folk occupied a higher classes status than serfs

Regarding this-- we have a few examples from Beedle, which is really our only source of information about how magical people lived pre-Statute of Secrecy. Babbity Rabbity is a washerwoman for a King who hates magic, for instance. Of course, this is fiction in-universe, but I think it still gives some indication of what life was like for witches and wizards at the time. Similarly the wizards in 'Hopping Pot' live in a cottage in a small village, but on the other hand the Warlock in 'Hairy Heart' is wealthy and lives in a castle. From this, I would hazard that witches and wizards were most likely present in all levels of society pre-Statute. (and this also follows since a child born to Muggles can have magical ability, they wouldn't suddenly be relegated to a different social class) We know some, like the Malfoys, had close ties to the nobility, but likely not all.

[one-blaze-of--glory]

In defense of Mimi Marquez

as the ceo of loving Mimi Marquez i am quite disturbed by the various ways people will publicly voice how much they hate her. I understand that everyone is entitled to their opinions, however, I'm still going to explain why I disagree very strongly with these points.

she is an addict

well... yes she is? what am i supposed to say about that? congratulations on noticing?

on a serious note, if you think that means she deserves to suffer, i think your priorities are very skewed. she's 19. she's made mistakes. this doesn't make her irredeemable or really a bad person in general.

I'd also like to point out that several times during the show, she tries to quit. it's not an easy thing to do. she doesn't deserve to be hated for failing to do something extremely hard, while already dealing with unimaginable circumstances perhaps.

she's bad for Roger/tried to get him back on drugs/tried to manipulate him

no she's not? no she didn't? what are you talking about?

I've seen people say Roger would've just been better off without her and I'm genuinely baffled by this take, considering he didn't even leave the building for a long time. He wouldn't have been happier, he was in fact very deeply depressed. After meeting Mimi, he became a little bit less depressed, that's progress and it's good.

as for the other two points, she never tried to give him drugs. She in fact took her stash back from him. there is no point in the musical where she tries to get Roger to do drugs, I genuinely don't know what you mean.

i think interpreting what she does as manipulation is not neccecarily wrong but it's a very bad faith interpretation. she's a 19 year old with a terminal illness, not a criminal mastermind. and i think she genuinely wanted to help him, but i do know this is a little more subjective.

she shouldn't have broken into his apartment

i mean what choice did she have, the guy's completely shut in. besides, it's not like she tried to sneak in in secret with some ulterior motives, she pretty much openly walked in there. Roger could stop her any time. which he eventually did and which she reluctantly accepted.

she didn't know Roger had AIDS and still tried to sleep with him

this one's a little more complicated to me, because yeah, that's not great, i agree.

however, this is largely a hypothetical on many levels. first, the obvious, Roger is already infected, she isn't going to make that any worse or better.

and also... she never actually even tried to sleep with him in act 1? sure she's flirtatious and she makes a few innuendos, but it's never that serious. we really don't know. Roger wasn't very receptive to her flirting and we, again, don't know what would've happened otherwise. For all we know she could've planned to tell him if they ever got that far.

also, she doesn't even sound that surprised when she finds out in la vie boheme. "guy who's clearly going through something, with a dead girlfriend, in the middle of the AIDS crisis" is actually not hard to piece together. for the record. she could've easily just.... known.

she got back with benny

people for some reason love to blame Mimi for benny's bad decisions, so let me clear things up. no, it's not Mimi's fault that benny cheated on his wife. he's a grown man who can make his own decisions. we don't know how old benny is exactly, other than he's old enough to be married, but either way, there's definitely a power imbalance between him and Mimi. that's not great. he acts very possessive and weird about her. that's really not great. i don't see how any of that is Mimi's fault though, if anything she's a victim of this situation.

also, we have no reason to believe she cheated on Roger with benny. that's something benny tried to make up in happy new year to get in Roger's head. whatever they have going on during goodbye, love is at a time when Mimi and Roger aren't together. why would you believe benny on anything?

she shouldn't have dropped out of rehab

i mean really, imagine yourself in her situation. at that point she had nothing. Angel died, Roger left, benny is benny and she herself was dying. Quite simply, there's not much of a point to quitting drugs when she had no one to live for AND not long to live either way. feels like common sense.

also, if you're a Roger fan, reminder that he was also an addict prior to the events of the show and the only difference between him and Mimi is that he got a lot of support from Mark, something he could've provided to Mimi, if he didn't decide to move halfway across the country.

she died in front of everyone, traumatizing them further

I included this, because this is an actual opinion I saw, but I genuinely don't know what to say to this. in what way is dying selfish. what are you even talking about. this is so funny to me, actually. genuinely what are you talking about?

by this logic, wouldn't you have to hate Angel more? she also died and she didn't even bother to come back, which is quite rude.

finally, general reminder that Mimi is the youngest in the group, yet she has dealt with some of the worst circumstances and still handled it better than most people would. yeah, sure, she made mistakes, as people usually do in difficult circumstances.

Mimi is just a fictional character, sure, but the way I see people treat her makes me concerned about how these people would treat someone like her in real life. Also, i think some of you just hate women.