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kimjoongs · 4 years

Text

unspoken promises ; c.s

II. MEMBERS’ FILMS - SAN

⤷ meet the other members here

pairing none genre ateez diary film au, teaser inspired, angst word count 4.6k warning(s) cursing, trust issues, internal conflict taglist @yunwoo @seongghwaa @toffee-hwa @s1ardusk @closer-stars @neo-shitty @atinykidult dia’s note here’s the first installment of my new series! hope you guys enjoy and please let me know your thoughts; special thanks to @seongghwaa for being my beta reader !

synopsis San can count on two hands the amount of times he’s moved houses. A cycle of packing and unpacking, making friends just to leave them a few months later– he was sick of it. He craved permanency. San didn’t belong anywhere or with anyone, and he thought it was about time for a change. All he had with him were the clothes on his back and a note with an address scrawled onto it.

➤ listen to always by by the coast

Things will be different this time.

We just want you to be happy.

You can trust us, son.

San cursed, wincing as he tripped over his own two feet, but he kept going, legs propelling himself even faster as he took off down the street.

The desperate cries of his parents echoed behind him, wrapping around his throat and constricting his airways, making him choke on his own breath. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he vehemently wiped them away and kept running.

His backpack swung wildly over his shoulder, and he grimaced when it repeatedly slammed against his upper back. Clutched tightly in one hand was a crumpled up piece of paper, given to him by someone who, right now, seemed too good to be true.

Street lamps flickered, just barely bringing attention to the boy as he dashed under them, dodging unsuspecting pedestrians with a string of apologies falling from his lips as he shoved them away quite roughly. In any other circumstance, San’s mother would have scolded him for his indecency– but this wasn’t any other circumstance. Just the thought of his mother, her horrified expression when she saw him jump out of the car, was enough to make San stifle an oncoming sob.

They told him things would be different, and he believed them. He believed them every single time, but nothing ever changed.

Reluctant goodbyes, packed boxes, and bitter hellos.

An endless, unrelenting cycle which left no room for flimsy bonds and pointless promises. San was stuck in a loop, and all he wanted was to break free, to rebuild those bonds and fulfill those promises.

It wasn’t that San’s parents couldn’t provide the same for him– they did– but at the cost of their son’s trust. For San, it was all so confusing. His parents gave him hope and words of encouragement, only to rip it away from him once he grew comfortable. It was never out of malice, but for some reason, that only hurt him more. If his parents were cruel and unjust, then he would understand their actions and why they kept hurting him over and over and over again. But they weren’t–that’s what made it so all so confusing.

Over time, San began to have a hard time believing anything was permanent. The feeling manifested itself inside of him, showing in his actions and his words. He would ask questions like “Are you sure?” or “Do you really mean that?” to make sure that the rug wasn’t going to be swept out from underneath him.

San was guarded. Secured within the confines of the walls he built around himself, blocking out those who came near him, not caring if they harbored any ill intentions or otherwise;everyone was untrustworthy in his eyes.

Until he met them.

He remembered their faces– how could he possibly forget? The faces of the people who took everything San told them in stride, accepting him, walls and all, with open arms. They respected his boundaries and not once did they ever try to breach the layers of brick he surrounded himself with. Instead, they sat around it and waited patiently, allowing San to come out at his own pace, whenever he so pleased.

Initially, he was skeptical of their behavior, believing it to be some trick, a form of deception to lure him out of his carefully constructed fortress, and he braced himself for the inevitable betrayal to come.

It never did.

As the days passed by, San gradually began to ease his way out, piece by piece until all that was left inside the walls was the shadow of his former self, coloured a deep scarlet and tainted by layers of doubt and distrust. The part of him that came out was a refreshing sight, both for San and his friends, who each gave a piece of themselves back to him, prideful gazes etched onto their faces.

And finally the endless cycle broke. San allowed himself to trust again, albeit at a moderate pace, his wounds were still fresh. He was thankful for the others and their patience, even during the times when San would take three steps back– back into the waiting arms of his tainted self, but the others would simply sit right back down and wait, always leaving a single spot empty just for him.

His journey was anything but linear. There were twists and turns, ups and downs, roundabouts and dead ends; they all served as testament to his exorbitant growth. And for the first time in his life, San was stuck at a constant. A possibility he once thought to be unachievable was finally in the palm of his hands.

But of course, like all the other times, it was inevitably ripped away from him, and in the most painful way imaginable.

Bits and pieces of shattered glass gathered at his feet, and shouts of anger rang in his ears as he tried to push Jongho back with one arm, protecting Mingi with the other. Yeosang had the youngest wrapped tightly in his hold, desperately begging him to calm down. San vaguely recalled the panicked look on Seonghwa’s face as the others watched on, expressions varying in degrees of shock. Harsh words were exchanged between the two, each one fouler than the last.

“Guys– Guys, stop!” Wooyoung cried out helplessly as his two friends continued on, absolutely relentless. He moved forward, the sight of them fighting becoming too much for him, but before Wooyoung could even get close, a hand grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

Yunho was frowning deeply, but upon receiving a displeased look from Wooyoung, he shook his head. Glancing to the side, Yunho saw Hongjoong’s frozen form, mouth parted and shoulders tense. It seemed they were all on the same boat.

No one knew what to do.

“Take it back,” Jongho hissed, struggling to free himself from Yeosang’s vise-like hold. “Take it back, right now–”

Mingi laughed humorlessly, tucking one of his earbuds back into his ear. He shoved San’s arm away, and the boy stumbled forward, peering over his shoulder at Mingi, hurt written all over his face.

“You’re in over your head– all of you are,” Mingi sneered and narrowed his eyes at every person in the room, voice dripping with disgust. “This whole thing was a waste of time. We’re never gonna get anywhere like this!”

“You don’t know that–” Yeosang was cut off by Mingi’s sharp scoff. He reached up and tucked the other earbud in his ear, shoving past the rest of them and walking to the door.

“Whatever, I’m done with this,” he muttered darkly.

“Wh– Mingi, where are you going?”

“Mingi, wait! Let’s talk about this–”

“Don’t leave–”

“Mingi!”

Time passed by so quickly he barely had the chance to register what was going on, and then everything just... stopped.

There was no more shouting, no more bodies being shoved back and fists being thrown. The world was silent, and when San blinked, he was back behind the walls and strapped to the backseat of his family’s truck.

But this time, he didn’t hesitate to jump out.

Skidding to a stop, San keeled over, heaving a series of gasps from his chest and throat. As if recognizing the sudden cessation, the adrenaline in his body dissipated, leaving his legs feeling like they were on fire. He fell forward on the sidewalk and caught himself on his hands.

A few people walked by, regarding the boy with mixed looks of suspicion and concern, but not a single one of them stopped to help.

One of San’s hands found purchase on a nearby bike rack, and he hauled himself up off the ground, hissing as his muscles ached under the constant pressure. He briefly scanned his surroundings, checking for the familiar, blinding headlights of his father’s truck. When he deemed the coast to be clear, he tugged his backpack off and reached inside for his phone, pulling it out.

San didn’t waste any time. Ignoring the onslaught of ‘Missed Call’ notifications, he beelined for the maps app and immediately punched in the address– the same address which was written on the note crumpled tightly in his other hand. While he waited for the location to load, San prayed that it wasn’t far from where he was. Looking back the way he came, San couldn’t even see the street where he jumped out of the car.

All he saw were moving crowds– mothers dragging their children across the street, high school students trudging down the sidewalk, young adults chatting the night away. Other pedestrians strolled on by, completely unaware of the inner turmoil swirling around in San’s gut, like a raging tornado wreaking havoc on his poor constitution.

Watching as other people walked by, minding their own business and being none the wiser to San’s earlier display of desperation, he laughed to himself in disbelief.

What the hell was he doing?

Glancing down at the screen, San almost cried out in relief when he read that the address was only a few blocks away. He allowed himself to recuperate for a few seconds, then he slung his backpack over his shoulder and took off down the street once again,

Minutes later, San came across an unfamiliar neighborhood. Partitioned by a lengthy patch of grass running down the middle, a series of houses lined both sides, each one sporting their own vibrant color– ranging from dark maroons to mild beiges. The entire community was quiet, save for the occasional whirs of the cars as they drove by and the sound of doors being shut as residents retired into their homes for the night.

San briefly glanced down at his phone again, pupils following the single blue line as it traced the way to where he wanted to go. Seeing that he only needed to make a few more turns, San sighed heavily and clutched the device tightly in his hand. He raised his arm high up in the air…

...and brought it back down sharply, releasing his phone as he did so.

There was a loud, resounding crack as the phone made contact with the concrete, shattering into pieces upon impact. San stepped back, staring down at the broken device, expression stuck in a limbo between apathetic and horrified.

But the deed was done.

Turning back sharply, he released a shaky breath, lips trembling at the prospect of what he’d just done, and took off for the third time that night.

San made note of the house numbers, heart pounding harder against his chest as he got closer and closer.

3212...3214...3216...3218–

San stopped. He peered at the shiny iron plaque drilled next to the door. The door to the house where a single person was currently roaming around inside, oblivious to the tired, broken boy standing just outside.

San stumbled forward, legs wobbling. He bit down on his tongue, swallowing the lump forming in his throat, and his eyes burned with unshed tears as he made his way up the porch steps. Once he reached the door, he lifted his hand and knocked, weakly, but firmly enough for someone to hear if they were inside.

He glanced over the porch. A couple of pots lined both sides of the door, each one housing its own unique flower. By this point, the sun had already set, so San wasn’t able to get a good look at them, but he could tell that they were being well-taken care of.

A faint smile appeared on his face, despite his otherwise exhausted appearance. He wasn’t surprised in the slightest.

Here’s my address. If you guys ever need me, then this is where you’ll find me. Please, take advantage of it.

A few beats of silence passed by, and a panicked sensation swept over him like a tidal wave. San gnawed on his bottom lip nervously, hands wringing over one another as a million thoughts scattered ran through his mind. He felt dizzy.

Was this a bad idea? Should I even be here? What if he isn’t home? What will I do then? I don’t have my phone or anything– God damn it, you’re such an idiot, Choi San–

His inner thoughts were abruptly cut off by the sound of a lock clicking, and then the door swung open, revealing the face of a person he never thought he’d see again.

Seonghwa stood in the entrance, mouth open in shock as his hand fell limply to his side from where it rested against the doorknob.

“San?”

And the way he uttered San’s name ever so softly, as if saying it any louder would shatter his haphazardly built and strewn together composure, was such a stark contrast to the harshness of his current situation. The smooth timbre of Seonghwa’s voice wrapped around him like a blanket, providing him with warmth and a sense of security– both of which San hadn’t felt in weeks.

The events of the night finally caught up to him, slamming into him like a bullet train. He counted at least six... seven orbs of light before his vision blurred, and he collapsed, landing on his knees, body turning into lead. The sob he’d been fighting so hard to hold back suddenly broke through, tumbling from his trembling lips along with a broken cry.

“Seonghwa…”

“Here’s my address. If you guys ever need me, then this is where you’ll find me. Please, take advantage of it.”

San stretched his arm out, gingerly plucking the folded piece of scrap paper from Seonghwa’s palm, the latter offering him a dazzling smile.

“Seonghwa, are you sure you wanna be giving your address out?” Yunho asked skeptically, holding up his own piece of paper. Yeosang stood behind him, balancing himself on his tip-toes and curiously peeking over Yunho’s shoulder.

“Yeah, what if we decide to rob your house one night?” Wooyoung snorted, shoving his hands in his pockets. Seonghwa chuckled lightly and ruffled Wooyoung’s hair, nose scrunching up fondly when the younger shoved his hand away with a huff.

“Then you can deal with my mother’s wrath on your own,” he warned, a teasing smirk on his face. “Don’t be fooled– she may look small, but I can assure you her tiny fists pack one hell of a punch.”

As the others laughed, San remained silent, attention fixated on the note resting in his hand. There wasn’t anything particular about it– it was just an address. But to San, it was a cruel reminder of what he didn’t have.

In other words, San envied Seonghwa.

The fact that Seonghwa could easily write down his address and give it out, confident that he would still be there should one of them decide to take him up on his offer, stirred some emotions within him. Ugly emotions– emotions he shouldn’t be allowed to feel in the first place because it wasn’t Seonghwa’s fault. He was simply being a nice person, and San’s first reaction was envy? The thought alone made him want to apologize, but at the same time…

He couldn’t help it.

“San?” Seonghwa’s hand rested tenderly against his back. “You okay?”

No.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he replied noncommittally, expression bereft of anything that would hint otherwise. He crumpled up the note and slipped it into his jacket pocket. “Thanks for the offer, Seonghwa.”

Seonghwa smiled once more, warm and inviting. “Of course– my home is your home.”

Home.

Your home.

There was a bitter taste in his mouth.

San wrapped the blanket around his body, pulling it tighter over his shoulders. His fingers cupped the mug in his hands, thumb tracing over the rim as hot steam wafted out of the mug and into the surrounding air. The sharp scent of peppermint tickled San’s nose, and he wrinkled it in response.

Lids downcast, he lifted the drink to his lips, body tingling as the warm liquid traveled down his throat, easing his nerves. He was comfortably settled on a soft, cozy couch, with the cushions conforming easily to his curled up form.

There was the pleasant sound of padded footsteps moving around the room, a familiar sound, a soothing sound. The footsteps increased in volume– closer and closer and closer until they stopped, and a pair of cotton slippers came into view, directly in front of San.

He lifted his head, albeit quite languidly, and was met with a pair of deep-set brown eyes, expressing their own set of conflicting emotions.

“How are you feeling?” Seonghwa asked quietly, kneeling in front of the younger and sitting back on his haunches. His hands rested in his lap, and he waited patiently.

How was he feeling? What a loaded question.

San was feeling a lot of things, really. He couldn’t exactly pinpoint which one overpowered the others because honestly, they were all equally raging their own war within him– tearing each other down only to push back, stronger and more aggressive. They all fought of their own volition, but at the expense of their host, unaware of the irreversible damage they were causing.

The longer San allowed himself to wallow in the destruction, sitting amongst the shattered bits of his naked soul, hiding in the shadow of his tainted self, the more he wanted to give in and fight in the war himself. Leaving not even a single trace of his opponents, San would rise as the victor. At least if he won, he would actually have a proper answer for Seonghwa.

How was he feeling? What a loaded question.

“Would you believe me,” San whispered, voice raspy from lack of use, “if I said I was okay?”

Seonghwa’s mouth twitched, expression fond and amused at the same time. “Not in the slightest.”

San sighed and set the cup down on the rug, mindful not to spill it all over the floor. He adjusted himself on the couch, tugging the blanket tighter around his shoulders and burying his nose in the soft fabric. He could just barely make out the faint scent of lavender and laundry detergent.

A few seconds of complete silence passed on, and the two of them sat about. They both knew their conversation was far from over, but neither of them wanted to be the one to continue it. In Seonghwa’s case, he understood that San was currently in a fragile state of mind and didn’t want to risk being too abrasive. In San’s case, he was...afraid.

There were so many liabilities in his plan. He didn’t know where to start. He didn’t even know if Seonghwa would let him finish, finding his actions to be rather uncouth and immediately regretting ever giving San his address. San didn’t mean to doubt him, but in a situation where anything could go wrong, he had to consider every option, every outcome.

But the way Seonghwa was looking at him, eyes alight with affection and familiarity, as if he understood San’s dilemma and wanted nothing more than to fix it for him, was enough to make him spill.

“I...ran away,” he announced quietly, so quiet he wasn’t sure if Seonghwa heard him.

“Why?”

Oh, he did.

San licked his lips, tasting the salt from his dried tears. Something inside his chest tightened, and he recognized the sensation to be his unkempt emotions, taking up arms and positioning themselves at the ready. San observed from behind the walls.

Another war was about to begin.

“Because I didn’t want to lose this.”

Confusion attacked first.

“Everything I’ve worked so hard to keep–”

They continued their offense, teaming up with Exhaustion and directing their conjoined attack towards Hope.

“I couldn’t just give it up so easily.”

Their faces ran through his mind.

Hongjoong and his annoyed sigh, followed by an exhausted, but appreciative smile. Yunho and his welcoming personality, arms wide open and ready to pull any of them in a hug. Wooyoung with his mirthful laughter and everlasting gaiety. Mingi and his astonishingly resolute presence, shadowing over them like the tree leaves on a bright, spring day. Yeosang’s gentle and endearing nature, quietly observing from the rear. Seonghwa’s careful hold, ever present and unrelenting. Jongho’s reliable solidarity, always pushing at a reasonable force.

Their time together was drastically cut short, but the happiness they felt was immortal.

San blinked and their faces disappeared. Confusion and Exhaustion had Hope cornered, trapping them within a circle of pointed spears and glinting swords. Exhaustion raised their arm up, poised and ready to strike–

“What’s your plan after this?” Seonghwa asked, leaning forward.

So many liabilities. Not enough options.

“Didn’t think that far,” San chuckled weakly. “If I’m being honest, my plan started and ended with this–”

His hand poked out from beneath the blankets, and pinched delicately between his fingers was the note. He watched as Seonghwa’s face gradually dawned with realization, something serene and subtle going along with it.

San turned the note over in his hand. “I admit, it was a stupid decision. I hope you don’t judge me too harshly for it.”

Shame washed over him. San wasn’t the type to make decisions impulsively; they were always premeditated and sprinkled with a dash of prudence. But as the old, cliché saying goes...desperate times call for desperate measures.

“San, if I judged you for making a stupid decision,” Seonghwa snorted, pushing himself up off the floor, “then that would make me a hypocrite.”

He bent down and picked up the empty mug, grasping it tightly in both hands. “I get it,” he murmured softly. “Emotions sometimes override our sense of logic– it happens, it’s normal. I’m not gonna condemn you for it.”

And in an unexpected turn of events, Hope successfully parried Exhaustion’s attack, shoving the latter back. They crashed into Confusion, and the two came tumbling down, weapons falling from their hands due to their lax grip.

“And also,” Seonghwa continued, voice taking on a subtle lilt as he disappeared into the kitchen, “I’m glad you came here.”

Seonghwa reappeared, slippers padding across the floor. He walked over to the couch and plopped himself down next to San, legs crossed and arms resting limply in his lap.

“You are?” San asked incredulously, eyebrows raising as Seonghwa gave him an affirmed nod. He gestured to the note with a single jerk of his head.

“I gave that to you for a reason, so you could use it– any of you. Just because we aren’t... together anymore, doesn’t mean my offer has been rescinded.” He reached out, placing a firm hand on the younger’s knee, body dipping low so he could meet his eyes.

“My help doesn’t have an expiration date, San.”

And just like that, the tides were turned. Hope came barreling down, blazing countenance leaving no room for mercy or grace, only an unadulterated passion to win, to rise as the true victor. Confusion and Exhaustion scurried back, fearful and weak, reduced to nothing but trivial scraps of what once was.

San watched them run, away from the walls and away from him. Not forever, they always came back, but he had a feeling it would be a long time until then.

The dark clouds in the sky dispersed. Pockets of light streamed through in their wake, illuminating the once tainted path, and San finally stepped out? There was not a single trace of the war in sight– just an endless, vibrant patch of grass.

So familiar. So welcoming.

He didn’t want to…

He didn’t want…

“I don’t wanna leave, Seonghwa,” he choked out, broken. He felt a new onset of tears burning, but he willed them back for now. “My parents– They– They wanna move again, but I can’t– I can’t keep doing this. I know they’re doing their best, and they just want to make me happy but...I don’t– I don’t wanna leave anymore.”

San clutched the blanket tightly, bunching it up against his chest. He threw his head back, trying to keep the tears at bay, but a single stray fell from the corner of his eye, dripping down the side of his face, curving to his jaw. Everything he harbored inside came rushing out, and the walls finally came crashing down.

Jagged pieces of brick and clouds of dust were all that was left of the once formidable fortress, with San’s lone figure standing before it.

“What do you want then?” Seonghwa whispered.

He took a step forward. The grass twisted underneath him. He refused to look back– only forward.

“I want…”

Something tugged at his chest.

“I– I want…”

He stumbled, failing to balance himself on his feet, so he shut his eyes and braced for impact.

“I want...to go–”

Free falling. Heart in his stomach and head in the clouds.

“I want to go home.”

Impact came. But it wasn’t the expected sensation of solid ground and prickly grass. It was sturdy, warm, protective, comforting. San’s eyes flew wide open, blinking in the harsh sunlight.

He looked up.

Seonghwa gazed down at him, expression soft. But he wasn’t alone.

Peering over Seonghwa’s shoulder, he saw a flash of bright blue. Then a vibrant pink. Dazzling white. Subdued red. There was the sound of twinkling laughter, belonging to one person and one person only. A deep, rumbling timbre of a voice followed.

And there they all were.

Like a beacon of hope, taking on the form of those he held near and dear to his heart, they came scrambling in, messy and chaotic and unrestrained– exactly how he remembered them.

San moved, shifting himself upright with the help of Seonghwa, and leaned into him for support. A breathy laugh, wispy and disbelieving, tumbled from his lips.

Yunho and Wooyoung reached them first.

The three of them fell back onto the ground, tangled in a heap of grabby limbs and constricted movements. A bout of laughter ensued, followed by a slight hiss of disapproval, most likely from one of the two eldest.

Hongjoong trotted over to the fumbling trio, rolling his eyes playfully before sticking his hand out. San’s laughter died down, and he simply stared up at the blue-haired male.

The azure sky faded away. The white clouds disappeared, taking the sunlight along with it. He no longer felt the grass under his fingertips, but instead the fabric of a blanket. Hongjoong and the others were gone.

He tasted peppermint.

“Hey.” Seonghwa shook him gently. “San? San– hey, look at me.”

He nudged San’s chin, turning his head so he was gazing directly at him.

“I need you to listen very carefully, okay?” His hands planted themselves securely on the younger’s shoulders. San nodded weakly.

“First of all,” Seonghwa began, “you don’t have to feel guilty about what you’re feeling. Your parents’ best decisions can still hurt you. You’re not obligated to disregard yourself for their sake.”

San remained silent, numb to the cascade of tears dripping down his face.

“And second of all,” Seonghwa continued, blinking back tears of his own, “if you want to go home, then I’ll help you get there. I don’t know how, but I’m sure we can figure something out.”

He laughed wetly, tugging San’s body forward and wrapping his arms tightly around him. San didn’t hesitate in reciprocating the hug, and he buried his face in the crook of Seonghwa’s neck.

The blue sky came back. And so did they.

Hongjoong smiled.

“Welcome home, San.”

#ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez imagines #ateez au #ateez angst #san #san scenarios #san imagines #san au #san angst #choi san #ateez san scenarios #ateez san imagines #where we went wrong au

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suney · 5 years

Note

Ripules n 12 cuz shy losers?

12 - things you said when you thought i was asleep [1/5] next →

Amanda is standing at her workbench heaving on the end of a crowbar the first time it happens.

“Just give me a second! I’m nearly- there!”

“What the hell are you going on about now?” A barrister pokes her nose into the workshop, observing the unfolding events from over her glasses. “I know you like your own company and tend to have these ‘stern’ discussions with yourself, but yelling at no one is actually pretty fucking weird, Amy.”

“Don’t call me that.” Ripley fires at her with a dangerous glance, wiping away horrific spatters of tin scented fluid, it’s tang reminiscent of aluminum on fillings. “Also, I was yelling at you for being an impatient ass on my comms.”

“Mm, no, I wasn’t.”

“Who else could it have been, Nina?”

She hums, squinting down at the screen, an insistent banner flashing white and grey along the top.

Eat… 18:30.

“My God you’re an idiot, Ripley. That’s not a message, it’s an alarm.”

“What? I don’t have any alarms, not for this time of day.” Amanda brushes the device off the table and into her bag on the floor. “And name calling, really?”

“I was joking.” She holds her shoulder, crossing her ankles to lean fully on the other woman. “But since you’re already distracted, come and sit down. I bought lunch.” She gently touches the cold wrist of a synthetic, laying motionless on the table. “If that’s alright by you, Samuels? Because I swear, even you won’t be able to make me give her mouth to mouth if she faints again.”

“He won’t be able to make you do anything until he’s fixed, Taylor.” The engineer rolls her eyes and follows the heavenly smell of curry wafting from the crib room.

“You really think you can?”

“I have to…”

The next time it happens she had fallen asleep using a bicep of the deactivated- the temporarily dead- android as a pillow. Her chair up as high as it will go and his hand in her own.

Sleep… 23:59.

“W’the fuck is going on?” Amanda mumbles into the synthetic’s side, lazing her arms over his chest to look at the screen. She wonders if she had installed a dodgy app, or if there had been a bug in the last batch of updates.

She yawns, swipes at the alert, and decides it probably had the right idea anyway.

Goodnight.

“Goodnight… I guess.”

Over time, the alarms had become progressively more specific. Mentioning conversations she’d had in private, even alone. Offering her advice, greeting her, wishing she had a fabulous day or night. Shockingly even to her, she never thought it was creepy, going back through her downloads to determine they had in fact been from the phone, to the phone. It was sweet. Familiar in the way it was worded like an old friend.

“Hey.” Taylor, as had become routine, appears at her door for visit one out of three today. “I bought coffee.”

“Oh my God, you read my mind.”

“I do, everyday, at exactly seven in the morning.”

“Yeah and what time do you call this?” Amanda gratefully trades the cup for a pair of soggy tin-snips and takes a drink, her fluid covered hands sticking to the paper as they swap back. Her friend holding it by the lid at an arms length.

“Late. Late is what I make of it. I’ve been at work since five absolutely snowed in with paperwork. So, fend for yourself for lunch? And don’t stay up all night, I know you’re excited, but get some rest and do it properly. Please. You only get-”

“One shot.” Amanda nods, pulling at a creamy tube full of metallics. “I know.”

Her phone blares once, and then again.

“Are you still getting those?” Nina asks indifferently, unable to counteract the hand over her upper stomach attempting to hold her bagel down as out of the chest comes what looks like an organ, attached at the base by colour coded wires.

“Yah."

“Aren’t you going to check it?”

It rings one more time in a different tone and Amanda supposes she should. The advice it offered had sometimes been handy, telling her the microwave had gone off, or the ice had melted in her bourbon and coke. This, however, was eerie.

Pay attention.

Please don’t cut the red wire.

Do not cut the red wire.

It vibrates a final time.

S-Exec Repair Manual, p 138: preventative measures for fuel cell ignition.

“Holy fuck.” Amanda flips a page on the next table over, quoting from it. “‘Disconnect from power source before removing fuel cell… red wire last… prone to violent combustion…’ Holy fuck."

“Someone’s definitely watching over you.” Nina breathes a sigh of relief.

“I might- yeah, I might sit down for my coffee today.”

“Good idea. I’ll leave you to it.”

Amanda nods her goodbye with a quick hug and regards the synthetic at a safe distance. It isn’t until hours later that she moves, or even speaks again, shocked into silence by the fact she could have killed her friend and less importantly, lost an arm in doing so.

Your drink is definitely cold. It has been for six hours.

She glances at the screen as it wobbles on her jogging knee. “So, I’ve been thinking,” she starts out of nowhere, “if I didn’t know any better, which I do, I’d agree with Nina and say you’re looking out for me. Which is ridiculous because all the evidence points to you just being a device, but I think somebody is behind this. Whatever this is."

I am here.

“Yeah, I feel that. Maybe I’m going insane, because that’s kinda likely… but I think you want something from me too.”

What might that be?

“I don’t know. I don’t even know who you are, let alone what you could possibly be after.”

It would be nice if you stayed intact.

Amanda huffs her way over to disconnect the trickle charger from the terminals in Samuels’ chest. “A real Samaritan.”

I am being honest. I want you safe. I…

“You what?"

Nothing.

“Okay buddy, maybe it’s best to pump the breaks before you freak me out. Don’t get me wrong, you’re cool, whoever you are, and if you ever show yourself we can go for a beer or something. But I’m kind of… committed elsewhere.”

Committed?

“Yeah.”

Oh.

“Problem?”

Not at all. I'm… happy. For you. Pause. Anyone I might know of?

“Probably not, we haven’t been on-site very long.”

Nina? A familiar sass bleeds through this notification that Amanda can almost hear.

“What? Fuck no. I care about her too, but it’s definitely someone else.” She wipes hydraulic fluid from her hands on an old rag. An old rag that happened to be a shred of Samuels’ favourite semi-melted shirt. He looks disgusted by her actions even in his sleep. “Do- do you really think I’d be investing so much time and effort into fixing this synthetic if I didn’t- care about him? A lot?”

Yes, you would. Because you are kind.

Amanda fights to urge to inform the stranger that she’d had to kill people before. Murder at point blank range. Leave some to die. Use human life as distraction. Instead, she turns up the radio.

“Blue Öyster Cult. Burning for you. What a solid song.” She looks over the slightly charred synthetic before her. “I’m not being at all ironic.”

Home in the valley, home in the city;

Home isn’t pretty, ain’t no home for me;

“You know it?”

Obviously. The text is no different than usual but rings like a pompous English accent. It is a classic, I rather like it. And Bat Out Of Hell.

“Oh, my friend. You are after my heart.”

I hope so…

“Keep hoping.” She laughs to the ceiling, tapping a hex key to the palm of her hand. “When I finally get this guy up we’re going to Earth and we’re just- just fucking hitting the road. Getting outta Dodge, or y’know. Luna. We can sleep in shitty motels and in the back of the car and I can pick up work in garages as we go. And I know I’m going to absolutely torture him with this kinda music, he’ll hate it, but I’ll find ways to make it up to him.”

I do not think he’d hate that at all. I think he’d love it, actually.

“I don’t think he loves anything. I don’t know if he can. But here’s hoping he’ll be fond enough of me to stick around after he’s back in one piece, and out of The Company’s grubby little hands.” She realizes the irony of her words, hesitating to brush his hair back with grease stained nails. “If he doesn’t it’ll be enough knowing he’s out there somewhere. Alive, even though I miss him. Fuck, I miss him.”

The device falls silent as she presses her lips to his forehead.

“Goodnight, Samuels. Keep ‘em crossed for tomorrow. It’s the big day.”

Her comms device vibrates in her pocket as she flops down onto the cribroom couch. Her eyelids droop, brain shutting down for the day. She decides she might just check it in the morning.

(Goodnight, Amy. I miss you too.)

#ripuels ask fic

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stephdrawsjohnlock · 7 years

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Hi:) I’m new to digital art, and I just purchased a Wacom tablet (the intuous draw because I’m just a beginner!) and I’m kind of hesitant. What if I completely suck at this?? What if this is going to end up being 10X worse than what I imagined it being?😓 I’m a traditional artist, and I’ve never been so good w tech, but everyone in my family has been telling me to try digital art out, and honestly... I’m really nervous:/ I’m scared my tablet will end up being a waste of money bc of my skills🙃

Hi Nonny! *hugs*

Firstly, CONGRATS! Getting a new toy is so much fun, especially when we are venturing on something new!

Secondly, Hi hello, traditional artist here!!

And therein lied my big problem: Digital is a COMPLETELY different medium with its own rules and the only limit is your imagination. Once I clued into this, It became a bit easier, but I still struggle with settling on a style I like, because it’s just like learning how to draw all over again.

How did you become good at traditional art, at being able to pump out art without thinking? PRACTICE. And this sounds counter-productive, but hear me out: STOP THINKING TOO HARD. This is my biggest problem, because I find I’m frustrated because I’m NOT good right away, that stuff isn’t going to turn out on the first, second, or one hundredth try. It’s going to take time, and THAT’S OKAY. You’re allowed to experiment and play with your tablet. I’ve actually learned, once I have finally just allowed myself to enjoy my art regardless of how shitty it looks, that I always want to keep practicing and trying out a new pic! I’m not fast and constant envy people who can get stuff done quickly and make it look amazing, but I also need to realise that I’m starting new, and that once I become comfortable with the tools, only THEN can I finally develop a style.

I’ve been trying digital work for 2 years. I’ve only recently finally found the will to “let go” and just “ink” my art and stop trying to make it look like my traditional stuff. It’s not going to look like it. But I’m experimenting every time I draw with new brushes and styles and pen pressures, and somehow I come up with something I’m satisfied with. And it keeps my art fresh and new; I’ve had a few people come to me privately and tell me that they love watching my art grow and change as I learn how to do digital work, and it means SO MUCH to me. Encouragement goes a long way into helping us grow.

So Nonny, DON’T think you wasted your money. PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE! You didn’t become a traditional artist in one day, just as you won’t become a digital one. I KNOW it’s frustrating, I feel you, but it will click and you will find something you like. Try experimenting with brushes and pen pressures (there are LOADS of free brushes online), and you will soon find The Set that works for you! Watch tutorials on how to use the features of your program, and read how other artists do their work. It’s immensely helpful, and you learn things about the programs you didn’t know about.

Wacom also has an app that comes with it when you install the drivers that allow you to change the mapping, pen pressures, handedness, touch capabilities, and all the shortcut keys on it, so make sure you familiarize yourself with your tablet. It is going to be your best friend in your digital art toolbox, and you should learn how it reacts to how you draw. ALSO, a tablet is NOT a piece of paper; be GENTLE with it. This was another thing that I had to learn, because I was wearing out my nibs monthly. Experiment with the nibs on your pen, and DON’T push hard or you will cause damage to the both the tablet and nib. AND nibs DO need to be changed, just if you’re going through them monthly, you’re pushing too hard. These are my favourite nibs, and think they work the best AND I like the rubber tips on them. The spring in them helped me with my pressure issue and helped me learn to be gentler with the pen, and now I don’t push so hard and scratch the shit out of my tablet. These ones are my next favourite. I love the rubber tips on them. Just make sure when you purchase nibs they are FOR YOUR TABLET. As far as I know, all Wacoms come with extra nibs, you just have to find out where they are. Mine’s a Intuos Pro, and they’re in the base of the pen stand. The tablet I have at work is just a standard small Intuos, and I found the nibs hidden in a compartment on the back of the tablet (right at the top, there’s a cover you can pull off, they’re in there). ANYWAY, try out different nibs and you will find one you like too! The felt ones were great too!

Also learn the basics of the programs you are using: LAYERS ARE YOUR FRIENDS. What I love about digital art is that I can forever try out different “blueline” layers and keep them all to maybe refine later or just delete it! Layer Groups are the BEST thing ever, and learn to use them. I always have my layers grouped into “bluelines”, “sketch”, “lineart” and “colours”, all with groups under those (I should seriously show you guys one of my pieces’ layers palette) and sorted and named so that I can find what I need. Learn about Layer Masks; they’re EXTREMELY helpful in colouring. And play with the brush stroke features. It’s so daunting when you first start, but you’ll figure it out!!

I BELIEVE IN YOU NONNY! You and I can learn together, and watch our art change and develop into something beautiful. And yeah, it would be nice if it were sooner than later, but we can’t win them all!! Practice every day so you can get used to the paper-to-screen aspect of it (it weirded me out for awhile) and so you can get used to judging distances and how your pen reacts to your touches. STOP THINKING, and just do it, Lovely!!

Good luck, Nonny!!

#steph replies #chatting with nonnies #my advice #art tips #digital art #Anonymous

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an-obligatory-blog · 7 years

Text

I’ve known this for quite some time, but I’m just going to post this now since even now, it’s still a very confusing part of P5.

Regarding to the ending split...

... it has plot holes, but it isn’t as major as I initially thought it was.

It was a complex plan, no doubt, and certainly, there had to have been a better way to explain it (ATLUUUUUS). After all, for a good amount of time, I thought the thing is riddled with nonsense, but after being explained by a certain someone on discord and some more thought, some questions has been answered. Oh, and reading Futaba’s dialogue before you go to sleep-- I don’t see many videos of that on it’s own so I suppose that’s part of the reason why it’s confusing.

These a few plot holes that I thought (or others) existed, but didn’t:

- How Akechi got out of the Metaverse (do you remember how you leave the Metaverse?) - How Akechi contacted Shido (u thought he was was underground/in the metaverse? apparently he wasn’t necessarily) - The Metaverse app being activated without alerting Goro (you can use the app without audio input via the search history function (see: the second time Akira and Ryuji entered Kamoshida’s Palace)) - Goro not getting into his rebel outfit after entering the Metaverse (When asked, you can sell out your teammates and/or you confidants, but NOT Akechi. At that moment, Sae didn’t know that Akechi intends to shoot Akira until Akechi had already left the Metaverse. During the duration of the attempted hit, there was no reason for Sae to see Akechi as a threat, either a hitman or a thief) - How tf Futaba can get a signal from Akechi’s phone (since it had a GPS) and Akira’s phone (GPS and voice messaging) when both Akechi and Sae were supposedly 8 floors underground (They weren’t necessarily. Sae met Akechi w/ the phone right after leaving an elevator. The voice messaging was pre-programmed into Akira’s phone so that it could work in the Metaverse; Futaba OP, pls nerf)

What wasn’t explained regardless:

- The mess that is Justice Rank 8 (someone told me that it might be a developer’s joke since Morgana commented how it didn’t make sense nor would it make sense for either Morgana or Akira to , which would be shitty cuz that is literally the definition of lazy writing: “Idk what to put here so let him rank up cuz lul”) - How exactly did Sae convince the police that there was a body in the first place? I get forging the death certificate (which should be enough to fool Shido since his ass isn’t getting out of his office chair), but what about everyone else? That doesn’t sound like a feat that could be done by one person. Maybe the grunts anticipated Akira’s death too quickly and assumed that it happened when Sae reported? Eh, even for P5, that relies way too much on incompetence. How Sae managed to 1) drag Akira out without being caught 2) fool the police in regard of a dead body and 3) get away with it all for so long is the worst plot hole you could pull out of this whole plot segment. - SEE EDIT BELOW

Asterisks (*) are used to mark questionable parts that I realized after what Atlus was really trying to do.

I found Futaba’s extra dialogue during NicoB’s Let’s Play of Persona 5. It’s around the last 10 min of the episode linked below. Couldn’t find a better video, but this is where I found out, so it’ll work.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mi6wLyeuqws&list=PL5bkYBlFL9xcNUVU5-EcBxdaVVAZM2zX1&index=62

Look at the moment when Akechi and Sae meet. When Sae showed him the phone, Futaba explained later that she bugged the phone (the one belonging to Akira) similarly like with Akechi’s phone. Through that, she remotely activated the Metaverse app to transport the two into the Metaverse. (remember the search history function that was used for Akira’s and Ryuji’s second visit to Kamoshida’s palace? That’s the function that Futaba remotely activated. She didn’t tamper with the magical app itself.)*

So Sae and Akechi are in and they went in opposite directions. Akechi goes in, kills the cognitive guard and cognitive Akira.** Now, here’s where one of the so-called ‘major plothole’ existed. How did Akechi get out? First, let me ask you this, how do leave the Metaverse in the first place? I thought that you just press the app to leave, but apparently, that’s wrong. You have to physically go back the way you came, and that’s why you always have to return to the Palace’s entrance to leave the Palace. This is what Atlus failed to do-- what leaving the Metaverse actually looks like. We saw Akechi’s pictures of the PT appearing/disappearing out of thin air back at Okumura’s palace, but we didn’t see how it really looks like without the red/black circles washing over the screen every time we do it. Apparently, leaving the Metaverse doesn’t involve pressing the app at all-- just going back the way they came. Remember where Sae showed Akechi the phone? That is where they entered, and hence, where they exit. When Akechi was done with his assassination attempt, he goes down the hall, up the elevator (yeah, the guard couldn’t have seen Sae and Akechi conversing, they were on a different floor), and back to where the app was first activated. Once Akechi crossed that point, that’s when he left the Metaverse.

This is when Akechi calls Shido. You see how he calls Shido right in front of an elevator? Yeah, he probably wasn’t 8 floors underground at that point.

Now, I’m assume you know the general story with Sae, but I’m going to clear this up anyways. Sae received the pre-programmed messages from Akira’s phone, and she followed their instructions to go back to the interrogation room. Once again, she crossed the same point where the app was first activated, thus causing her to exit the Metaverse. She goes down the elevator and towards the room. The GPS installed in Akechi’s phone helped Futaba to time Sae’s entrance because it would be awkward if Sae encountered Akechi mid-assassination. (Futaba would know when Akechi is out of the Metaverse and out of the police station; nothing contradictory of getting a signal by then)

*The problem with this is... even if you use the search history function, the phone still plays it’s voice protocols like normal (”...Beginning navigation” You know the drill.). I don’t recall this ever being mentioned by any of the characters, but you can easily explain this away with “the phone was on silent”. **The cognitions should’ve disappeared similarly like Shadows when they were killed. You can pull any number of BS by using “well maybe Sae’s cognition is different because hurr durr”, but it was never mentioned by the PT to even consider the rate in which cognition disintegrate into nothing nor was there any measures to accommodate for that. This instance is plot convenience at it’s finest.

Now for the sake of clarification, this doesn’t mean that Atlus is suddenly flawless in regards of how they handled this aspect of the story. Aside from what I’ve already stated above, this stuff could’ve been handled better. The search history function was only mentioned offhandedly in the the very, very beginning of Kamoshida’s Palace (before even Shiho attempted suicide) by Ryuji so there is almost no way anyone would remember without looking back. The anime cutscene where Ryuji was smirking “we got ‘em” when he heard about the supposed suicide of the PT leader made no sense. (How would he know that the plan even succeeded???? I know he was being like, “well I toOOOTALLY knew that we were going to succeed” but goddamn, but that sounds like he was acting tough more than anything. That kind of blind confidence shouldn’t be present, even for a character like Ryuji.)

You know what would really help? Seeing a few frames of the inside of the elevator as it goes up and down. Despite hanging out in the background, I barely even noticed it before someone else pointed it out.

A good part of the fandom was impressed by the plan and yes, I do think it’s a clever trick for Atlus to pull on us. However, the more complicated the plan is, the more effort one should put in explaining said plan because, you know, it would be harder for the player to understand. I don’t mean treating the audience like idiots and I understand the concern of dragging the explanation scene out, but man, Atlus was totally off their game when it came to hinting/foreshadowing. Instead of doing off-hand comments about seemingly arbitrary, but relevant aspects of the plan (ex. Futaba’s bug on Akira’s phone, the search history function, etc.) that you can probably catch by your second or third run of the game, Atlus favored getting hung up on whether or not they wanted the traitor to be obvious or not because they seemed to be pretty damn bipolar regarding to that.

I do give them credit for making some information optional (discoverable by talking to Futaba). It makes the scene less draggy and allows people who don’t give two shits to skip the parts they don’t care. I don’t watch many let’s players on the same game, so I can’t conclude if many people actually went out of their way to talk to Futaba and process her words.

And one last note, I don’t think Persona 5 is a bad games by any standard, but I do believe that the writing is the weakest aspect of the game. Style and gameplay seems more polished than the actual story aspects.

I hope this helped for any of you guys out there. Feel free to let me know if you.see any mistakes/seek clarification. It’s 9:30 PM for me, so I hope I didn’t mess up too badly explaining this.

EDIT: It came to me that if the method of leaving the Metaverse is truly just by going back where they came, it raises issues in Shido’s Palace, where the place they started was on the front deck, which, as you guys know, was sinking into the depths by the end. Basically, there’s no winning with P5 plotholes-- no matter how you look at it, there’s an issue.

#persona 5 #goro akechi #sae niijima #it's a mess #a lot of this is a mess #part of the reason why I'm writing this is to clear up my thoughts so that I don't mess up when writing fanfiction

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dumb-rabbit · 4 years

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aight, rant incoming

Distance learning is so fucking hard to me I hate it so much, I don’t know anyone from uni who I could ask for help when i don’t get stuff, it takes me way longer to get anything done because I’m distracted all of the time, I spend a week doing one task I’m late on and am immediately late for the next one, I feel super stressed even though my workload isn’t all that much but I still can’t finish it, I just managed to catch up on studying for one subject and felt like I got it and started the exercises for this week but I don’t understand them at all. And if I even miss a single point in that subject I’m failing it which i suppose is just what’s happening now. So hey at least that workload is off my shoulders! But it still just sucks, I wasted all week on that. And then thought I’d just spend the evening doing something I enjoy, because I spent the last few days trying to learn how to rig live2d models but I don’t understand exactly what parameters I need for facerig and there may be a ton of video tutorials out there but I don’t have the patience for video tutorials that explain stuff in whatever order they deem fit, and all skip out on exactly the details I need, and I need very detailed explanations or else I just can’t do shit. Like I can assume what parameters mean but I hate assuming! I want to know! And it feels like everyone thinks it’s obvious but it’s not! And i just want a detailed documentation but there is none, there’s links from years ago that lead to what was a documentation but is now an error page! I need to understand exactly how that stupid program functions before I can use it. I do not want tutorials that explain how to do thing x before explaining everything used in thing x. It just confuses me. But that’s all I can find. I just feel real shitty rn because I’m running into a wall for both uni and personal entertainment and I hate it so much. My mental health has been getting worse and I looked up therapists but it’s all made so much harder than it has to be because you can either look for ones that have spots paid for by national insurance, or you can look for anything else so I can either comb through therapists that specialise on everything I don’t need or throught ones that could help me but are mostly too expensive. Besides, I really want to get tested for autism, and diagnosis is free at any therapist, but that is as long as you get a referral from a general health practitioner (which is intended to exclude physical causes and applies to every single diagnostic progress, but what exactly would be a physical cause for autism-like behaviour??? Oh the only reason I’ve been hyperfocussing on specific interests and been a social misfit all my life is my low bone density????) and that would have been doable with my old doctor who is a very nice woman and that is the only reason I ever went to see her (which is not a lot! Like 4 times in the last 10 years and 2 times because I needed a doctors note saying I’m sick and 1 time because my chronic stomach issues had me anxious to the point I thought they might kill me and 1 time as a follow up on that) but I moved and I’m too nervous to see my new doctor. Especially now with covid that you need to call ahead. My old doctor did give me a referral but I don’t know if I can usee it because it’s valid 30 days and she specifically didn’t write a date so I could take my time but I don’t know if I can just fill it in myself??? That feels immensely illegal. Plus having to call at most places which I am utterly incapable of doing. Though, I actually installed an app for university that includes a feature to contact a mental health professional over chat at a discount, but I wouldn’t even know what to say. Like, I feel bad and small inconveniences make me cry. That’s nothing. How are you even supposed to help someone with that. Headpats and a “there, there”? The only reason I’m not giving up on finishing uni and looking for a job halfway into the first semester is because I have a shimmer of hope that it’ll be better after corona, but when is that? Next semester, next year, next decade? I feel so exhausted. Like, literally. I usually feel like collapsing in the evening. And then I stay up a little longer and go to bed at an okay time and don’t fall asleep for hours. I need a break but living costs money and I don’t have any.

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datamattsson · 4 years

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At least eight things PC laptops still haven't fixed

I've now gone through about three MacBook Pros since I started at Coraid in the UK eight years ago. Before that I exclusively used Dell laptops and various desktops with Ubuntu. I made the switch to Mac because of the horrid integration of the hardware with the software of the product itself. Sleep, hibernation and power management in general being the most painful experience. PC laptops back then were also a bit of carrying around a ton of bricks with a jet engine attached to it. So, I made the switch.

Recently I bought a "top of the line" Razer Blade 15" Advanced Model where the shopping criteria was 10th Gen Intel i7, Thunderbolt3, WiFi6 and a decent GPU to perform live broadcast video encoding on. This laptop is not my primary work laptop, it's custom bought for a multi camera video streaming rig and need workstation-like performance. I can't quite help myself using it for other things as it's incidentally faster than my old desktop workstation. So, after about a month of use, here's the review of things these PC laptop makers still don't get.

Non-power management and screeching fans

I've historically been a fan (no pun intended) of silent PCs. I buy coolers as big as the chassis can fit with large, slow fans. This is of course not possible in a laptop. How bad the temperature management in this device is completely beyond me. When I'm on battery, it steps down the CPU and only uses the Intel GPU. I can barely hear it and it's still very usable. The battery only last about an hour, but it's OK, it's very enjoyable to type on and have it in your lap. But as soon as I plug in the power and connect it to my Thunderbolt3 dock, it's "hold my beer" time and the fans go up in crescendo while 100% idle. No load what so ever. None of the shitty apps Razer preinstalled have no means to tweak this. I've read a few BIOS hacks you can perform on prior models of this laptop to tweak the C-states while on power. But really, have they not tested this thing in front of a real user in a home setting before deciding on the sound/performance levels? I totally get the high wind noise while using the GPU, playing games and rendering video, but not for typing up a blog post.

Howling in the night

I wake up every morning with the laptop on full jet. Some quick googling reveals that "Windows Update" will wake up the computer to check for updates. After it's done, it doesn't go back to sleep. This is the essence of poor software and hardware design. Not thinking about the overall user experience of the product.

A ton of brick

This laptop carry a 230W tax given it has a powerful CPU and GPU (well above the 100W maximum for power over Thunderbolt3). I understand this requires a large transformer. But why is this still a non-standard powerbrick where each vendor carry it's own proprietary connectors and voltages? Added frustration: additional power bricks are more expensive than Apple's and they've been unavailable to order for the last month (obviously it just became available while I just now checked again).

The dirty propeller

It's hard to compete with the aluminum die cast uni-body design of Apple, I get it. Just after I unboxed the laptop I could immediately see my fingers and palms on every surface that I had touched. How much would it take to have a coating that at least try resist the human residue, for a at least the first day? I also read on r/razer that some user had got his Blade a bit skewed out of the box. Phew, mine sure wasn't! Oh, wait... you were sat with it in your lap you said? I put it back on the desk and it's like a propeller. This makes me wonder, again, have they even field tested design before shipping it out?

Hardware is hard

I got my first blue screen of death (BSOD) within the first 24 hours. Plugging and unplugging USB devices while configuring the video streaming rig, but what caused the BSOD was unplugging the headset jack. A headset jack, an analog headset jack. In all fairness, I have not had a single BSOD or other "hangs" after that. Kudos!

Another hardware/software related quirk is that I have an external Thunderbolt3 chassis with a video capture card in it. I read everywhere that this setup is supposed to be hot-pluggable, in awe it actually works, until I decide to carry the laptop from the studio up to my office and plug it into my Thunderbolt3 dock. The DisplayPort will work and activate, but that's about it. The USB ports, audio and miscellany is stone dead. Rebooting is the only way out of it. I wish there was a "safely remove TB3 device" option, but there isn't.

Realtek is probably the only sound chip manufacturer that exist in the world for PC laptops. For good or for bad. If I leave the laptop in the video streaming rig and it gets the idea of getting to save power, I come back to all sound recording inputs stutter and being distorted, requiring all apps that had the sound devices "open" to be restarted. I thank apps like this one to truly keep the computer alive. The Mac equivalent is called Owly and is nothing short of awesome.

Update 6/13/20 Today's Windows Update disabled the Realtek ALC298 sound IC. No outputs or inputs work. No, I'm not angry or surprised. This is the way.

You look like a piece of pixel art today

I remember flicking on the webcam the day I got the laptop. Are we spoiled with FaceTime cameras or are we? Holy dear lord the $3000 laptop has a decade old lens and sensor in that thing. It looks absolutely awful. Thankfully I don't intend to use the integrated camera but I feel for the folks who do.

Razer Blade 15"

FaceTime HD

All your ports are belong to me

I get it. You want to connect all your legacy crap you've dragged with you for the last two decades. But when is it enough? USB-A, USB-C, HDMI, SD card readers and I don't know what else. Why are PC laptops peppered with ports that are irrelevant or obsolete? Thunderbolt3 can carry all the ports to a dock and you barely ever use any of them on the go. This is where I truly praise Apple for putting the foot down. I'm still surprised my latest Macbook Pro came with a headphone jack but it's all USB-C/Thunderbolt3 combo ports that carry everything, including power. PC laptop makers: observe and learn!

Don't touch the touchpad

The Apple Magic Pad, is, magic. Nothing even comes close, is anyone even trying? I tried to find a cross-compatible external touchpad for Windows and Mac but was unable to find a solution unless I want to perform a series of blatant hacks or pay some 3rd party for Magic Pad driver for Windows. A related driver, Windows or hardware issue has caused the "stop tracking while typing" feature to work since I got it. Is the solution to re-install Windows you think?

Anything positive to add?

Bottom line is that I'm very happy with my purchase. It performs really well for what I got it for, end of story. I did not expect anything would've improved with PC laptops over the last decade and I was absolutely right. The user experience is grating and the "product" simply isn't there. We'll never see a unified software and hardware experience where the consumer is in the design center. I've yet used any of the Microsoft Surface products but I can imagine that in a decade or so we'll be able to see the infancy of a Macbook Pro experience on PC.

#MacBookPro #Razer #PC #Laptop

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thatonemendel · 7 years

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Here you guys go. Here’s the thing.

Alright, so on the topic of BJD recasts, and why I view Artist dolls and Company dolls as two separate things;

What, exactly, makes a BJD art? Well, they are hand crafted objects (except in the case of 3d printing, which are still art), but technically so is everything. The counter this laptop is sitting on was hand crafted. The items it’s made from were created by someone, by hand (except in the case of machines, but like 3D printing they were still designed by a person). But would you consider this counter top art? My cell phone was created by someone, the apps I have installed were coded by a team of people… are those art? Is the Tumblr app art? Where, exactly, is the line blurred? (I’m honestly curious where y’all draw that line.)

In my opinion, when it comes to recasts, it depends on if it’s created by a large company or not. Some examples of ‘large’ companies, to me, are Fairyland and Soom. Although technically they are still a ‘small’ team of people… they’re still a company. These are companies that sell hundreds of fullsets at $1,000 USD, or $600 USD for a basic blank doll. They ‘consistently’ (ha) have sales, produce dolls, and handle hundreds of orders. They are a business.

Yes, the objects they created were art. But, to me, at that point they’ve become less art and more of a product. Perhaps not a ‘mass-produced’ product, but still a product that is produced on a larger scale than an artist doll.

A small artist hand-crafted their doll, just as an artist hired by a larger company… but the difference is that they aren’t handled like a company. They aren’t handled like a product. That single person (or, in some cases, a pair of people) controls everything. They take care of the orders, they deal with making sure everything is sent out and perfect, all single-handedly. For that person, it could take them months to send out the amount of dolls that those ‘big’ companies could send out in a week.

Now, before you jump in and say, ‘But Navi, buying a recast funds the recasters to buy artist dolls and recast them!’ Yes, they do, and it makes me incredibly sad. I see people cheering over artist dolls being recasted and I want to cry. Because when I first became a part of this community, that was incredibly frowned upon. Everyone I knew was devastated whenever a small artist’s doll would get recasted… in fact, I remember what was basically a rage war over the Rucario dragon being recasted.

Yes, recasts do harm small artists. But y’all need to stop thinking that each and every recast owner is okay with that. I will, in no way, defend it. Once upon a time I did make excuses for those things, like ‘it’s okay when it’s this small artist, for this reason…’ but I have grown as a person and realized that it doesn’t matter. A small artist is a small artist, and recasting their dolls is wrong.

But companies like FL, Soom, and even Volks aren’t effected in the same way. Because they’re already producing at least three times the amount of dolls as a small artist, making three times the funds. They’re producing dolls at a rate as if they are products… and thus, to me, those are products. And replicas of products are just that… replicas of products.

I will only defend purchases of recasts of bigger companies. I unfollow people who get recasts of small artist dolls. And while people buying recasts fund recasters getting small artist dolls… I can’t change that. Just like I can’t change that buying from walmart allows them to throw out hundreds of thousands of dollars of food every night, watching buzzfeed allows them to steal other people’s videos, or buying from fairyland allows them to send out poorly made products, because people will just keep supporting them all no matter what. The only thing that I can do is make sure that we, personally, don’t do those things.

Now, I’d like to make a couple of other points;

One: Not all recast owners only own recasts. For example, we have more legit dolls than recasts. A lot of people I follow own legit dolls from cheaper companies and some even own legit dolls from fairyland, soom, etc.

Two: Recast owners don’t hate on Resinsouls, or at least, not any more than legit owners. Resinsoul gets shit from both sides, y’all. But, again, a lot of people I follow own Resinsoul or BBB dolls… in fact, someone I follow just got a BBB Apollo and honestly he’s the cutest one I’ve ever seen. Props to them!

Three (for axel): We, personally, haven’t purchased any dolls in over two years, legit or recast. When we bought our last recasts, artist dolls weren’t being recasted, or at least not that we knew of. Not long after our dolls arrived, the Rucario dragon was recasted and the war among owners began. Had it happened before that, we would have chosen a different recaster… one who didn’t recast artist dolls. Because, again, we don’t support that.

Four (for val), and a one of large importance to me: It’s also about fucking respect.

I have no respect for Fairyland. Zero. They lost it when they stole (yes, Fairyland did art theft) from a small artist. And since, anti-recast people have made thousands of excuses for them… “But they apologized!” “But they hired that artist after!” “But they made a deal and sent him money!” And? What’s your point? They still stole it. They still browsed the internet, found that artist’s weapon designs, and copied them. They had no intention of contacting him and asking for his permission. If no one had pointed it out, they wouldn’t have said anything. Apologies mean nothing if they’re forced.

Fairyland has also had a large amount of quality issues. Seriously… look through their tag on TBC. Uneven tan resin, warped legs, broken pieces… they produce dolls at such a rapid rate that they fail to quality check. And while yes, they do often send replacements… that’s still more time without your doll because they couldn’t be bothered to make sure it was sent out right the first time. And yet, people still accept this, because it’s always been that way. Because they love FL dolls and want them, even though continuing to support a poorly run company only allows that company to become even more shitty.

I have very little respect for Soom. Because Soom’s wait times are bullshit. I used to have a companion who had to wait a year for a doll. And it’s not uncommon among many legit companies… how many times have you seen people admit they forgot they ordered a doll - a $600 doll - because it took so long to arrive? And why, exactly, are y’all fine with that? They also have quality control issues, though I don’t hear about it as often.

I’m not going to offer my money to a company that is absolutely shitty, no matter how badly I want the doll. Even if I could afford legit fairyland dolls, I wouldn’t buy them. Because the more and more we throw our money at them, the more and more they know they can get away with. Perhaps if they fixed their quality control issues and stopped producing ‘new’ sculpts every other month (I say ‘new’ loosely because we all know the recent ones are clones of Sia), I’d consider buying a legit doll from them. But until then, I will enjoy my well made Minifees.

And, in conclusion;

Clearly, not all of you will agree with me, and I don’t expect you to. There’s going to be anti-recast people who tell me all recasts are ‘art theft’ and there’s going to be pro-recast people who say that none of them are. But I’ll be here, in the middle, having my own opinions and feeling good about them.

#recast response #navi speaks

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kbyyru · 7 years

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Forgiveness

first off, for those few of you on here who know me and used to pay attention to my page before i left - yes i did have a bit of a breakdown almost a year ago and no, i didn’t do anything. i didn’t hurt myself but man oh man did i feel like it. (unless you count going on a bender hurting myself, then in that case yes i absolutely did)

what prompted this, you may ask? well for both those who did ask and those who didn’t, here we go. for about 6 months of last year (2016 for reference) i was in a borderline - maybe full on - abusive relationship. i will not be saying names; only referring to my ex using pronouns (she, her, and so on)

it started off easily enough, two people who dated once had some time apart and after some time passed started talking again. we eventually decided that things had been worked out enough to give a relationship another chance, which at the time was something i wanted because i actually did have feelings for this girl. one of the things we agreed on was that we were going to make communication more of a priority; lack of communication was something that caused our breakup in the first place. the first few months were honestly the best part. we were actually talking more and making more attempts to see each other, you know, like an actual relationship. i felt like i actually had a girlfriend and i can only assume it was vice versa for her.

obviously this didn’t last. skip to a couple months or so before things ended and it’s back to how things were the first time. it would be days before i get so much as a text/snapchat back versus being left on read. on several occasions i was ready to say “i can’t do this any more, we’re through”, but it never failed - before i would get the chance to say that i would get something from her and it convinced me that things were going to be okay. at these points we would actually get to talk, and inevitably i would try and set up a date. me trying to see my girlfriend would mean contact stops, and it would be some amount of time before i would get to talk to her again. there was always some excuse to why i never got to talk to her as well - she caught sick a lot for someone who hardly ever leaves home and was always too sick to text me back. i would nearly always end up getting bored and opening Facebook only to see that she wasn’t too sick to share posts and get in long comment threads. i can’t talk to her but she can talk to anyone else.

our birthday rolls around (coincidentally we had the same birthday but not the same year) and i see that her favorite band is coming through. i make sure i have the day off work and buy us tickets, trying to be that awesome boyfriend. we go to the show, i’m not really into it (not my type of music) but she has a great time so i’m happy. at one point she goes to show me something on her phone and for the quarter second it takes for the phone to unlock and her to open whatever she was showing me, i see Tinder installed. not wanting to cause trouble (me jokingly asking her if she was cheating while we were first together was the main catalyst to our first breakup, it wasn’t an accusation so much as what i thought would have her say “oh, ha ha, yes definitely” and move on) i ignored it. after all, i have quite a few apps on my phone i haven’t opened in ages.

after the show i start seeing more of the “she commented on this post” things pop up through Facebook, and it would always be her tagging some other guy in memes. me, being someone who loves memes, didn’t give it much thought at the time. then the memes started being less meme-y and more like things that people tag their S.O.’s in. naturally i grow suspicious but don’t have any concrete evidence that something’s going on. it was because i had no real evidence that i didn’t confront her. a few weeks/however long after the concert, i don’t exactly remember, i send her a message saying that i was concerned about her. not accusatory, nothing of the sort, it was me being concerned about someone who at the time i cared about a great deal. this was when she decided we needed to break up so she could “focus on getting herself help” for what i was assuming were suicidal thoughts.

why was i assuming suicidal thoughts? some time earlier she mentioned that she was in a bad place and that was why i went almost a week with no contact (again, i saw her sharing several posts and commenting back and forth with anyone/everyone who commented on them). i did ask her what was going on then but she didn’t want to talk about it and maybe a week or so later things were back to what could be called normal in this situation. the breakup message was her saying she needed to focus on herself, get her head straight, possibly commit herself to an institution because her thoughts were that troubling. once again, naïve me said “okay, good luck, hope you get what you need” and our relationship was finished. i will admit in that instant i was sad, it hit hard out of nowhere, but like the day after i was back to normal. after all, that whole “relationship” the majority of it was like i didn’t have a girlfriend and was just sending texts/snapchats off into the void, never to get answered. we would end up talking off and on after that on a platonic level only; things like the occasional “how are you doing”. i went back and forth for what felt like too long on whether or not to say something to her mom about what she told me. eventually i decided that i would want someone to say something if it were me talking about potentially committing myself and i sent a very politely worded message to her mom. i got one back saying how she had no idea and would be talking to my ex about it. during one of the last times we talked she told me that it was a shitty thing of me to do and of course after hearing this i felt like an giant asshole for saying anything in the first place. (which yes, it might have been wrong but at the time i did still care about her - even though we weren’t together - and didn’t want anything to happen)

finally, i see through Facebook that she’s in a relationship again. i wouldn’t have thought too much about it if it wasn’t the guy she had been tagging in memes all those months ago. it finally hits me like a goddamn freight train: my suspicions were right. i had been getting blown off because i was being cheated on. it hurt all the much worse because, like i mentioned earlier, i had been scrolling through Facebook and seeing all these memes she was tagging the d-bag in and then the relationship status change. both of these were things that she NEVER did while we were “together”; in fact i felt like i was being kept a secret the whole time. if anyone in our “relationship” was tagging anyone in memes, i was the one tagging her. i hardly ever got so much as a like, and if i got a comment on them it was a cause for celebration. with this other guy, though, there would be comment threads and mutual tagging, pretty much like every other relationship i know of. it was just my luck that i was in the restroom at work absentmindedly scrolling through Facebook like any other night when i saw the relationship status change because i still remember how i froze up when i saw it. eventually i got the strength back to get up (my legs had since gone numb, that’s how long i had been sitting there), quickly finish the rest of my tasks, and go home to be alone.

i didn’t delete her immediately because i was trying to get the strength up to call her out on her bullshit (for those who don’t know i’m someone who HATES confrontation of any kind: being involved in it, hearing it, anything). i do eventually delete her without saying anything about what happened; but i don’t just unfriend her. i go through all forms of social media and scrub every trace of her out of them. Instagram pics, mentioned Tweets and Facebook posts, she was completely wiped out of and unfriended/unfollowed everywhere.

some time later i get a Facebook friend request from her. i leave it unresponded and move on. some months later, i get another one and because i have a small bunch of them to respond to from people i met at a meet & greet, i unintentionally add her back. i start seeing posts from her in my feed and realize what happened. this gets me upset again and i send a poorly worded message demanding to know why she added me, turns out it’s because she “wanted to know how i was doing”. if she clearly didn’t care before, why would she now? i leave her on read (have to admit, it felt good doing that after it had been done to me so many times) and close the conversation. i did apologize later because i believe that even though i had been done so wrong i didn’t need to stoop to her level. my apology gets more or less shrugged off, and that was the last contact i’ve had with her other than sharing memes that she’s shared herself.

now, it should be noted that she does deal with some form of depression/anxiety issues, because the few times i was at her place i saw the pill bottles. this much i can confirm. what i CAN’T confirm is how much she was using these problems as an excuse. while we were “together” it felt like she was constantly under this dark cloud and that’s why i was getting ignored, but now after the pieces have more or less been put together a lot of those times it was definitely just an excuse not to have any contact with me. and before anyone reads this (if they’ve even read down this far) and slams me in the comments, i deal with occasional waves of depression myself. but, unlike her, i actually talk to people even when all i want to do is curl up in my bed and drink myself into a coma (yes, that is something i’ve thought about doing sometimes. i’ve also had several bouts of intrusive thoughts over my life, and briefly considered self-harming). i felt sick the entire time i was typing this, but at the same time i feel relieved that i’ve finally put this out somewhere - even if nobody will read it. if you did read it, props to you because this was one massive wall of text. and to her - she knows who she is, so i still will not be naming names - if you read this, i (now to you) obviously know what you did and i hope you know that karma will catch up to you. however, as the title says i have forgiven you for my own sake. it's undoubtedly healthier for me than keeping all this hate and negativity bottled up any longer.

#text wall #depression #story #anger #lifeupdate

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hankeverythingwillbefine · 5 years

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It’s nothing but a cocktail of emotions

Day 4

My eyes opened at 5ish AM and as soon as I realized that I was awake, the sadness rushed in. Depression is patient and apparently just waits to strike overnight. I went to get my phone and saw you texted last night, I think I replied right away. I need to get Hank to you because life for him here is not life, I fear that he and Grey will get to the point of hurting each other soon even though I’m doing my best to prevent that. I’ve been reflecting on more things last night and was going to post about it that same night before the heavy alprazolam dose that I’m imposing on myself took over but my parents forced me to go out with them and my brother for food. I’m eating too many carbs and tell them but they brush it off as if I was a health nut, I’m not there yet. Anyhow, let’s get the resume of this conversation first. You accused me of having installed spyware on your phone and it hurt, it was really offensive. We had an agreement to take time to work on ourselves before anything else would happen and I’m honoring it as much as it fucking hurts. Last time I saw your phone I saw that you said you were in a loveless marriage and it hurt me, spying on you would only add obsessive behavior to the list of things wrong with me and I’ve got enough on my plate as it is. I don’t think more pain is the answer. I looked for links with tips on how to optimize battery life and performance on your iphone and instructions on detecting and deleting and spyware for your own peace of mind. It feels like I’m still taking care of you even though you wanted to take care of yourself. Google, my friend, it’s a powerful tool and need to learn to use it.

I’m glad that I was able to answer in a composed manner, not devoid of feeling but maintaining civility and respect in the face of disrespect. I don’t want to promote things but it was all thanks to this app named Calm. I started with the first day of meditation for self-esteem, did all three audios for depression and one for anxiety. It didn’t cure me in any way, it’s day one. It doesn’t replace a therapist in any way but the gym wasn’t helping, aromatherapy, tea, video games, spending time with my family and building a good support group. The app helped me push towards a good early morning meditation session, and I know that meditation has been a pretentious hobby for the longest time but when not done for instagram pics it really works. I explored deeper into my history of anxiety and finally remembered my first ever anxiety attack! It shouldn’t be something to make me happy but it is, I’m glad to know that your issues didn’t cause my anxiety. Sadly enough, I think it was I that had the contagious anxiety. My first anxiety attack was in 2014, I was closing a sale and hyperventilating while reading the final disclosures. The lady told me she wasn’t able to answer and I begged her to hold for a moment (She did). Neither one knew what happened but the day moved on and I sat away from my work station for 30 minutes in order to cool down.

I’m trying to explore my own mind to see if I understand what is going on with myself, I know it is most-likely going to be misguided but last night I felt sadness and rage. You said that I wasn’t much of a man anymore, that whoever it is that you married is not who I am now. There is no dispute there. I blamed you last night and I still do, everything went downhill when you made me quit AT&T. It was because the landlord was hitting on you a lot and grazed your breast when you helped him clean the water tank and you didn’t like it. You cried and you were scared. You told me to quit AT&T because you didn’t feel safe and because I want to protect my wife, I quit what was the job that I have enjoyed the most. You had just barely started working for Stratus as a medical interpreter and you kept pushing me, knowing that my level of expertise went up to medical insurance and not medical interpretation. You pressed that the pay is on par with what I was making with the perk of both of us working from home again, life was great with us so I just let myself go. Your need for me to work where you wanted me to made you give the answers for the test, getting me disqualified and ruining any prospect career there. I went back to being exploited as an employee at LanguageLine Solutions and entered into a deep depression. No more benefits, shitty pay, illegal work terms that the US office ignores, unpaid vacation, ah yes... life sucked but I was with you, protecting. You noticed my depression, you saw me holed in my office staring into nothingness, libido gone and any interest in anything out the window. I realized last night what took away that manhood that you claim I had, I gave you all of the power.

I realized what made me that powerful person was that I had the sole financial responsibility of keeping a roof over our heads, food on the table, bills paid, weekly date nights and such I treated your income as something just for you. So you can buy shoes or clothes or whatever it is that you wanted. I know you’ve never been materialistic and the only things that you want and asked for has been kitchen tools and gadgets, which we’ve always seen eye to eye on. Still, with the loss of that I told you that you’d be the one that would hold the house expenses which included the rent while I paid our outstanding debts. I felt like a freeloader, a parasite, a leech, a blemish on everything good that we had. Now I see that no matter how much I earned and no matter how much I took over the house work and did everything you asked, it wouldn’t take back the man that you fell in love with. I have to take back the financial responsibility that I once had but I don’t know if you’ll give me that chance any time soon. You keep telling me to earn you but right now I’m only remembering the very controlling part of you.

The part that said kept saying “my house” in our house. It’s still our house but I refuse to storm it and stay there and just force my existence on you, that’s not right.

I’m going to try and go out today without anxiety pills, let’s see how that turns out.

I’m sending Hank to you next Saturday evening when you get off work, I won’t give you a chance to give me things or for us to talk and I won’t take your Sunday so you don’t miss church. I’ll only give you the brief details little by little and the day of that we’re already there

So it turns out that at the moment, I resent you but blame my pride when you gave me the chance to go back to the place where I enjoyed to work.

#depression #depressiontalks #resentment #living with anxiety

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hfwtrp-blog · 8 years

Text

Token Black

MUN INFORMATION

Nickname: daaaaiiiissyy.

Age: 24.

Tumblr URL: fuckmitzvah, still

Timezone: CST

Triggers: none, trigger me daddy uwu

Secondary Character: eric cartman exclusively thank

MUSE INFORMATION

Muse’s name: Token Malik Black.

Age: 17.

Birthday: June 20th, 1999.

Height: 6’8”

Sexuality: Seriously hasn’t even thought about it. Probably Straight?

Occupation: None– Student.

Headcanons:

– Token doesn’t do music anymore. Nowadays, he actually abhors the concept of performing. He used to like it a lot, he really did– It had been an unexpected release for him. His parents had never pushed music so much since it was near impossible for him to make anything real out of himself from it. They taught him the prerequisite piano, but only because studies showed that learning to read music helped discipline the brain and prepare it for exams. But when that whole singing debacle turned out to be nothing, and Faith +1 was just a fucked up attempting at “winning” something by one Eric Cartman, the Blacks determined a music career was out of the cards. After all, if he’d been truly good, opportunities would have presented themselves from such experiences– The Blacks don’t exactly tolerate failure. So, he doesn’t perform anymore. Doesn’t want to. Hates it.

– Speaking of, the Blacks are incredibly overbearing parents. As such, Token’s entire life has been planned for him already. They know where he’s going to college– Columbia or Harvard– , when he’s going to apply – August 14th at the latest– and once he gets there, he knows what he’s going to do– Engineering or Business. He knows what he’s going to eat on the first Monday in June, just like he knows what he’s going to wear next week. He doesn’t just live in a carefully organized home, he’s practically the posterchild for Helicopter Parenting. They aren’t bad, they aren’t abusive– They just… Want their child to succeed. And if that means dictating what he eats and wears, then so be it. They’ve been that way their entire life, pushing Token to be his best, their best. And that’s good, right? Parents should demand the best out of their children, and as kids it’s what they owe for the gift of life. Token’s not bitter about it at all. Haha.

– Typically level-headed, Token has gotten exceptionally good at biting his tongue. The importance of not being a cliche in this little mountain town has been impressed upon him since he was a child– Sympathize with ignorance, attempt to explain wrongdoing, but don’t cause a fuss. The ‘Angry Black Man’ trope is all too common, and in bumfuck towns like South Park, it’s important to avoid those if he wants to get the admiration of his teachers that he needs to get into college. Shooting up to be the tallest one in class did him no favors. But that doesn’t mean that Token doesn’t feel anger. He actually does. A lot. Racist shit is like candy do these fucking hicks, and every time it makes him snarl. Every time someone even vaguely says that he’s “not like other folks ‘like him’,“ it makes him mad. Furious. But he represses it. He shoves it deep, deep down into an itty bitty ball and doesn’t ever fuck with it. Because he has an Ivy League to go to, and he can’t afford fucking it up. – Token doesn’t make friends easily. This isn’t because he’s anti-social or because he gets anxious when meeting new folks– Actually, more than half the time he doesn’t worry about meeting new people because if they’re in South Park he already doesn’t exactly have time for them– But rather because he isn’t good at judging others. His life is a carefully constructed tower of success, and one wrong friend can bring that entirely down. That said, he’s still intensely loyal to Craig, Tweek, and Clyde. Having been friends with them for so long, any sort of wrongdoing they might do is easily overlooked, and he frequently forgives them for grievances that he would turn a scornful nose to, if it were anyone else. – Token’s music varies pretty wildly– From James Brown to Beyonce. But nine times out of ten, you can catch him listening to spoken word songs. Essentially poems, but with beats behind them, they give him a chance to feel like he’s being heard, like his anger is felt by someone, even if it isn’t. Even if they’re random artists on Spotify or Youtube, he can feel like he is fucking known by someone, anyone. But he doesn’t listen to that stuff loudly. He keeps it off of his phone, erases his music history, doesn’t play it in his car or where anyone else could hear it– Including his parents. He’s got a playlist of Taylor Swift garbage on standby to swipe over to so no one hears him listening to angry music. So, most likely people just think he has shitty taste. Which, y’know, fine. He’s not salty about it or anything.

Sample para: Token breathed deeply through his nose, eyelids drooping as he watched the teacher fumble with the new, fancy, computerized whiteboard. Normally, it’d be a riot and a half, watching this poor woman fumble and mutter and curse under her breath, manual in hand, as she struggled with technology that not even the ‘Tech Support’ from the library could offer. But, as it was, he was just tired. He’d be called up in a second– He usually was. With anything from Overhead problems or document retrieval from email servers, at least once a day, some teacher decided they needed Token’s help. Truthfully, he didn’t know why. Surely there were more actively-Techie kids at South Park? Kevin Stoley, for one. But no. He’d done one report using Meteorology equipment one time in fifth grade, and suddenly he’s the ‘Tech Kid’. Dimly, he wondered if it was some sort of… No. Man, how could he construe that into a race thing? Sad that he was probably right, but still, that was fucked up. Wrinkling his nose with his own fucking thought process, Token shook his head to clear his mind, tapping the eraser of his pencil against his paper. Only vaguely was he aware of the other students turning to look at him, expectantly. Still, he didn’t respond with anything except his eyebrows quirking up, eyes focusing again on the drama unfolding ahead of him.

Damn it… The teacher was looking at him, desperate, plaintive look in her eyes. He’d seen that look before. Smile tight against his teeth, Token nodded, unfolding himself from his desk and slowly making his way up. He squinted at the tablet in her hands as she hurriedly explained what it was supposed to be doing– “This chart is supposed to go up there so we can do it as a class, and you know they haven’t a clue what they’re doing, giving this to me. No training, no warning, just boom! Here I am, figure it out, Wiley…” She continued to go on, but Token gently took the tablet from her hands. “It looks like you need to have the screen-sharing app installed,” Token murmured. He’d deduced as much from the little error message that blipped onto the screen as he attempted to share the screen. The message had read: ‘SHARING INACTIVE, PLEASE UPDATE SMARTBOARD APPLICATION’. He made quick work of opening the App Store and searching for the correct app, installing it before handing it back to the much-smaller Wiley. “Here ya go.” Wiley gasped, then groaned, rolling her eyes. “Oh, the– Of course it would be something so simple. You can sit down now, Token,” She groaned, turning back towards the board. Nodding shortly, Token turned and made the arduous task of sitting down comfortably again. Not that there was much comfortable about a desk for a guy who was all legs. He settled to have them in the aisle. And then he returned to staring at the abyss, ignoring the furtive glances from the other students. Well, there was his once a day quota.

Extra: u wot m8 I am away until the 3/11 but I want to post this now at least!

#application #submission #token black #south park rp

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