#some fonts are not the bands actual font | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

spooky-holtz · 3 months

Text

Kelly Green

Melissa Schemmenti x reader

Genre: fluff, some VERY suggestive language, alludes heavily to smut

Word Count: 2.3k

Prompt: "mel x reader where they’re dating and the r keeps stealing mel’s eagles sweatshirt and one day mel finds the reader all curled up on the couch sleeping with the sweater on.."

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

“Honey?” You hear Melissa call in your shared bedroom from where you sit at the bathroom vanity that was once just hers. The products that litter the surface are a mix of both of yours; Melissa’s various pens and bottles sitting on one side, neatly tucked into a makeup back, your own strewn across the surface as you try to prepare yourself for the day ahead, “Have you seen my lucky sweatshirt anywhere?”

You know exactly the one she’s talking about. It’s game day so there is only one item of clothing she will wear and it’s her relic of a sweatshirt. The heather grey material is a little discolored and frayed around the edges from years of constant use and the green print that displays the Eagles logo across the front is cracked beyond belief, making it nearly impossible to read the Kelly green font.

“Babe?” She calls again, “Are you even listening?” The slight panic in her voice is evident as you realize you haven’t actually answered her yet. You stare back at your reflection in the mirror from the padded stool on which you sit, hair curled and makeup half-applied after your shower, Melissa’s silk robe you grabbed from its hook on the back of the door currently resting on your shoulders and tied loosely around your waist.

You sigh as you realize you should probably go and help the redhead and rise from your seat, anticipating the level of stress you’ll no doubt find her in.

When you cross the threshold from cold tiled flooring to the soft carpet of the bedroom, you immediately find Melissa torso deep in the chest of drawers that holds most of her clothing. She hasn’t even noticed you yet, the entire top half of her body nearly submerged in the sea of shirts as she rummages through them frantically. You can hear her mumbling something about “that goddamn sweater” as she digs through the drawer, your presence unnoticed.

You don’t want to get too close to the scene, knowing that you could get hit by one of the sweater-turned-projectiles that your dear wife is currently throwing halfway across the room, not bothering to look back and see where they land. Instead, you choose to lean back against the doorway from which you just entered and admire the view of Melissa bending over in the tightest pair of leather pants she owns. Game day has its advantages, and every single one of them are those pants. You decide to finally put her out of her misery and break the silence.

“You know it’s not going to be in there, right?” The sound of your voice immediately catches her attention, and she jumps, caught off guard by the intrusion and nearly hitting her head on the drawer above her head that sits ajar above the current focus of her attention. “The last game day was literally a week ago, so it’s probably folded up by the dryer somewhere downstairs.”

In reality you know it’s not anywhere near the dryer; it’s in your own chest of drawers that Melissa doesn’t dare to touch. She can’t know that you’ve taken it, especially not now when she’s this far into what is coming close to a nervous breakdown.

You didn’t even mean for it to take up residence among the rest of your clothing. It just happened last weekend when Melissa was out shopping and lunching with Barbara and you quite simply missed her, choosing to curl up in the sweater that she’s worn since long before you met. It just never found its way back to its rightful home and is now tucked away safely among your countless band t-shirts on the other side of the bedroom.

After what feels like an eternity of watching your wife rifling through her own clothing, she finally stands from her crouched position, grumbling about her knees and gripping the edge of the cabinet, and turns to meet you.

“How about I check the dryer for you, hm?” You ask as she turns slowly, her stiff muscles making it difficult to do so quickly. The stress in her features is evident, the crease between her eyebrows prominent from her furrowed brow. Her face softens as she meets your eye-line from where you rest against the door from, arms folded and head leaning against the wood.

“I’ve already checked, it’s definitely not there,” she replied, taking a few steps closer to where you stand. As she moves you can’t help but notice her eyes dipping down your frame, taking in your form. Her expression has gone from stressed, soft, to starving in seconds. “You know, I never even noticed that this is what you looked like right now.”

She’s crossed the room already and stands in front of you, arms reaching out to wrap around your waist and bring you away from the door frame, toward her. Your own arms unfold and lace themselves around her neck, her red curls brushing against your wrists as you move. You scratch at the nape of her neck lightly, knowing that it calms her even in her most tumultuous of moments.

“I haven’t even put my eyelashes on yet,” you huff. “I’m literally nowhere near ready.”

Her eyes dip down again, your own following her gaze to see exactly what she finds so interesting. She wraps her arms tighter around you, bringing your body impossibly closer to her own. Her hands dip lower, brushing against the small of your back, bunching your robe and holding you in place.

“You know, that isn’t a bad thing at all.” You can hear the smirk in her voice and your suspicions are confirmed when you look up and see that all too familiar expression laced across her features. Her dimples are deepened by the quirk of her lip, her eyebrow raised almost as if in a challenge. Your eyes dip down to her lips just as her tongue darts out to lick her bottom lip, coated with sticky pink shimmering gloss. When you look back up again you know you’ve been caught.

You feel the heat rise up your neck, covering your chest in a pink blush. Even after all this time, Melissa’s flirting still makes you feel like a teenager. You can feel her subtly maneuver your body so that your back rests against the painted wall and not the sharp doorframe, narrowly missing the large wooden picture frame that protects an image of the Philly skyline.

You know she’s proud of herself and the flustered state she’s got you in. Her lips haven’t even touched your own yet and you’re already putty in her hands, the task at hand completely forgotten. You feel her press into you, pushing you further into the wall, her leg coming to rest between your own.

Her hands still hold your waist, keeping you in place and precisely where she wants you. The contact burns through your robe, the same way her eyes burn holes into your skin. When her eyes meet yours, you can see how dark they’ve become, the emerald green almost unrecognizable from the blown nature of her pupils. Her one hand leaves the comfort of your waist and instead trails up your body to rest at your jaw, her thumb coming to rest on your bottom lip.

“You know, we’ve still got some time,” she says lowly, her eyebrow arched again. She knows you can never say no to her, especially when she looks as delicious as she does right now. The combination of her tight pants and buttoned plaid shirt makes your head spin, the sleeves rolled up to her elbows and buttons undone slightly so you can see the smooth expanse of milky skin beneath. Her gaze runs down your body again and you feel yourself shiver under her scrutiny, goosebumps instantly appearing where her eyes follow. She leans closer, pressing her lips to your rosy cheek. “What do you say, pretty girl?”

“My eyes are up here,” you whisper, the words catching in your throat as she presses her lips to your neck, using the hand on your jaw to keep you still and precisely where she wants you. You can feel the tackiness of her lips as they press into your skin, moving their way up toward your ear. Melissa’s breathing has gotten heavier, and you know there must be a trail of pink across your skin from the redhead’s attack.

“I know,” she breathes into your ear, her deepened voice making your knees weaken. “Can’t I admire my beautiful wife?” She asks. You can hear the smirk in her voice and feel it where her lips press into your jaw, immediately giving her intentions away, as if the thigh pressing into the heat between your legs and the fist she has burrowed into the back of your robe doesn’t already. That same hand snakes its way around your waist, your wife pulling you impossibly closer as she continues to melt your hard exterior and quickly make use of what little time you have left.

She uses the positioning to her advantage by sliding her hand around your thigh and lifting, bringing her even closer to your core. The sudden movement causes you to gasp, and her smirk only intensifies against your neck, turning into a full-blown shit-eating grin. You wrap your leg around her waist from where you stand, not letting her move away any time soon.

She pulls her head back to look into your eyes, the green entirely replaced by her black pupils. Her lipgloss has smudged past the edge of her lips, almost matching the rosy hue of her cheeks, and her hair is mussed from where your hands have been buried within her red locks. This is one of your favourite versions of Melissa. She’s clearly hungry for whatever you can give.

“How long do ya think we’ve got before Janine panics over us not being at the bar?” she asks, eyes trained on the pink glittery trail she’s left across your jaw. She’ll have to help you reapply your make-up later.

“Probably an hour?” You respond, following her eyeliner as she admires her work, “But it’s never going to take that long, let’s be real.”

Your words cause her eyes to snap up to meet yours, her mouth breaking into an instant grin, the lines around her eyes growing deeper at her joy.

“I say we test your theory,” she says seconds before she spins you, leading you backward toward your bed.

That was three weeks ago and she had all but forgotten about her sweater, her thoughts preoccupied with the other more important issues at hand. That was until she had walked back into your home one evening after her usual Saturday afternoon lunch with her Nonna. You would usually attend these lunches, finding the older Sicilian woman’s takes on the world incredibly entertaining but a week of testing means that you were far too behind on grading.

When Melissa closes the heavy wooden door to your home, her belly and heart full, she can’t help but notice the eerie quietness. The usual music is playing from the radio on the kitchen counter, but instead of blasting some cheesy pop song that Melissa loves to pretend to hate she’s greeted by the dulcet tones of Carly Simon’s subdued crooning.

She makes her way across the wooden floor, stepping carefully so her high-heeled boots can’t make the usual cracking noise with each step. When she rounds the corner into the living room, she is greeted by the dim light of a candle that has nearly reached the end of its wick, the sickly sweet scent of vanilla filling the room. She can see where you sit on the couch, the top of your head where a hastily thrown up bun sits giving away your location. You clearly haven’t noticed her presence yet, not moving at the noise of her walking closer.

When she rounds the side of the sofa, Melissa can see that you’re not in fact hard at work but have evidently fallen asleep mid-grading. Your legs are a tangled mess where they rest along the length of the sofa, the plastic that protected the material had been removed long ago when you moved in with the red head, your relationship still fairly new but clearly thriving.

Your head rests against the cushion of the sofa behind you, pen still in hand and paper discarded where it lays in your lap. Melissa can’t help but laugh lightly, thinking about just how many times she’s managed to find you in this exact position over the years. Your fluffy socks and bright red plaid pyjama pants are the image of comfort, she thinks, as she takes in the sight of you- wait a second, is that her Eagles sweater? The sight makes her jaw fall open in disbelief and everything clicks into place.

The subject changes whenever it was brought up in conversation suddenly make so much sense to her now. She can’t help but chuckle and shake her head slightly, impressed that you had managed to misdirect her for so long but so enamoured that you could do all that just for a sweater. She would have let you wear it if you had asked, but she thinks it’s probably better to make you feel the achievement of swindling her out of her favourite item of clothing.

Her heart feels impossibly full as she looks down at you where you rest, glass askew on your face and soft snores filling the room. Even if the losing streak the Eagles endured at the end of the season are a result of Melissa not wearing her sweater on game days, she would take the losses a million times over if it meant she could come home to this sight every evening.

#writing #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #fluff #reader fanfic #reader fic #self insert #wlw #abbott elementary fanfic #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti fic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti self insert #melissa schemmenti x y/n #lisa ann walter fic #lisa ann walter x reader

401 notes · View notes

obsessedwithlute · 28 days

Text

If The Hazbin Hotel Characters Worked At A School

Charlie- You might think Charlie would be the principal but NO! Charlie is the therapist! She tries to get everyone into her office for a session by the end of the year- including the teachers! Vaggie- Vaggie would teach mainstream math. Her favorite thing about teaching math is giving people extra homework when they disrupt her class. (A lot of people leave with extra homework. One time Angel Dust walked in on her in the middle of a test, and she made him do a homework sheet).

Angel Dust- He is a substitute. He's actually qualified to teach computer science, but he doesn't. It's his best kept secret why he doesn't.

Husk- He teaches Italian. He's not properly fluent in Italian and only got the job because Lucifer lost a gamble to him and Husk said he'd let him keep his money if he did "one tiny favor". Angel Dust likes to lurk outside Husk's classroom when he gets the chance, and the second Husk mispronounces a word, Angel will stick his head in, correct him and then dart back out. Husk pretends to hate it but he actually finds it really hot. (Angel Dust was also actually the one who TAUGHT Husk Italian).

Lucifer- Lucifer is the principal. He doesn't really care what most of his employees do, including stalking the Italian teacher, cruel and unusual punishment during guitar lessons, or fucking in the janitor's closet. As long as "most of his employees" doesn't include Alastor.

Alastor- Alastor actually teaches health, or sex ed, or whatever you call it. He went to college and got a degree and didn't do it "The Husk Way" all so he could do two things: 1. Properly represent queer people, especially trans people, during the class because he knows, as a trans person, that it's really hard not to feel undermined during the class. 2. Make jokes about being an asexual person teaching sex ed (I'm not asexual/aromantic but it just seems like the kind of thing Alastor would do- especially considering how he reacts to Angel badly propositioning him). If you make a queerphobic comment in Alastor's class, you're dead. Possibly literally. Alastor never actually adheres to the curriculum, and Lucifer keeps trying to break into his class and catch him but somehow Al is always two steps ahead. When Lucifer is not at school, Alastor takes his whole class down to the kitchens and has them make jambalaya for the whole period. If you can't eat jambalaya, Alastor has a whole closet full of alternative ingredients for you but EVERYONE IS EATING SOME FORM OF JAMBALAYA OR EVERYONE HAS TO FIX ALASTOR'S VINTAGE RADIOS DURING DETENTION FOR A MONTH.

Lute- She teaches biology and is that one teacher who everyone either loves or hates. She runs the GSA and has weekly meetings and she's also the teacher who becomes your replacement mom if your real mom sucks. (This also applies to the teachers, she's also basically Angel Dust's mother by now). If you make a queerphobic comment in her class, she will stalk for exactly two weeks after you say it, slowly recording every single discriminatory thing you say. Then she will make you stay after school hours and reads off her entire list. Then she assigns you detention for two weeks and makes you write a 5-page essay on whatever chapter of Queer Ducks her heart desires in size 8 Arial font during the few precious hours of the day you don't have detention.

Adam- He teaches the jazz band, and if you play guitar, you get double lessons. Twice a month, Adam conducts tests randomly. You have to get up and play a song of his choice- no sheet music allowed. If you mess up even once, Adam gets to smack your guitar with a rock and you get to pay for the damages. (Lucifer knows, doesn't care, and makes rubber duck voodoo dolls all day long.)

Cherri- She teaches gym and if a student isn't running fast enough, she throws basketballs at them. Not hard to HIT them, but just enough to give them some motivation.

Sir Pentious- He doesn't work at this school. He works at a preschool in a different town. But since it's only a half-day, as soon as he gets the chance, he leaves and goes to stare longingly at Cherri while she somehow manages not to get fired. Everyone is just used to him being there, and he's fine with that.

175 notes · View notes

mediumgayitalian · 2 months

Text

prev chapter

———

“Okay,” Will says, when they’re comfortably on the road. This early in the morning, Highway 17 is practically empty; nothing but sunny skies and clear air rushing through the open roof. The emptiness may also be attributed to the fact that it is a random Tuesday. “Pick a number between one and nine.”

“Uh, five.”

“Good choice, good choice.”

He opens the centre console, digging around Nico’s – well, and his, at this point – collection of CDs to find the right one. He makes a little noise of triumph when he finds it, blowing on the back and wiping it on his shirt before sliding it into the port.

“One half-assed polish isn’t gonna fix those scratches, Solace,” he teases.

“If you weren’t such an emo fuck, Playlist Five wouldn’t be so scratched.”

Nico laughs, conceding this round. Will looks inordinately pleased, nose scrunching along with his tiny smile even as Linkin Park starts blasting through the speakers, which he hates.

“Three songs ‘til Britney,” he grouches as Nico starts hollering along to Points of Authority. Nico shakes his head, still grinning – as if he didn’t make these playlists. If he is truly so miserable, he wouldn’t have put the song on at all.

(Nico knows, in the very back of his mind, that Will actually and truly cannot stand Linkin Park. To him, it’s not music at all. He has never been able to get into it, as much as he truly likes music of every genre. If Linkin Park is on this playlist, and they’re on more than one of the playlists Will has made specifically for their shared car rides, it’s because he cares about Nico more than he hates the band. Nico shoves this knowledge deep into the dustiest corners of his mind, because that’s more than he can afford to think about.)

The next couple hours pass by comfortably. There isn’t much to remark on the side of the road except the odd fruit stand, or farm advertising eggs and honey, so onward Nico drives. He keeps an eye on the odometer, but mostly trusts Will’s calculations. If he says they won’t need gas ‘til Anthony, wherever the hell that is, Nico believes him.

“Highway changes to the 98 through here,” Will says, nodding to the tiny sign that boasts nothing except Ft. Meade CITY LIMITS, right next to the giant banner half the size of the church it's attached to that reads, REPENT OR BURN.

Ah, Florida. Please one day change.

“Do I need to exit?”

“Nope, the road just changes to a different number.”

He eases off the gas as they approach the tiny town, watching carefully for state troopers. And, like, children, probably. So far he’s passed twelve gun ranges and one school, but whatever. He can have priorities, even if this garbage state doesn’t.

“Hm. 98 is a better number.”

“Absolutely not,” Will tells him, aghast. “17 is a prime number!”

“Ninety-eight is more fun to say. Also, prime numbers suck.”

“You take that back –”

Nico slides up his sunglasses, shaking his head fondly. Nerdiest nerd to ever nerd. He would be embarrassed if he wasn’t so endeared.

He presses back on the accelerator as they exit the town, turning up the music as Will’s rant ends. He shucks off his shoes – Feet off my goddamn dash, Solace – and curls up into his seat, burying himself in a book. Nico glances away from the road to try and read the title, but quickly gives up since the font is bright fucking purple, for some reason, and in some horrible looping shape that he knows will give him a migraine. All graphic designers should be in prison.

“Hey, there’s apparently a gator reserve forty-five minutes ahead.” Nico squints again at the book. Barely, he can make out “roadside” and “weird”. “‘Weird American Roadside Attractions’,” Will reads aloud, noticing Nico looking. “Such as a very nice and highly rated gator reserve –”

“No.”

“Road trip, Nico. Adventure.”

“I’m super happy to adventure away from living fucking dinosaurs, Solace.”

“Aw, come on, they’re kinda cute –”

“Two thousand pounds per square inch of jaw strength! You are the one who told me that!”

“You don’t think you could take one in a fight?”

Nico stares at his best friend incredulously. He’s got a thoughtful little frown on his face, looking at the sky as he contemplates. Nico notices, vaguely, that the shade of his irises is the exact same colour.

“No, I do not. Obviously.” He pauses. “You think you could take a fuckin’ gator?”

“I think it’s possible.”

“See, that’s crazy, because fifteen seconds ago I genuinely believed you were an intelligent person.”

“Do not lie to me and tell me you don’t have a list of animals you know you could take in a fight,” Will says, instead of rising to the bait. He waits, meeting Nico’s glare, eyebrows raised.

“An ostrich,” Nico admits, begrudgingly. “I feel like – one good punch to the throat –”

Will smiles smugly at him. “That’s what I thought.” He turns back to his book, fiddling with the corner of a page. “Also, ostriches are more closely related to dinosaurs than alligators. So. Check and mate, motherfucker.”

They pull into Anthony at around eleven, at pretty much exactly a quarter tank – just like Will predicted. He looks inordinately pleased about it, so Nico shoots off a quick prayer to the karma gods.

He trips on his way out of the Jeep. Nico smirks.

“I’m gonna go stretch my legs,” he says, unaware of Nico’s hand in his humbling. Nico waves him off, attention turned to the gas pump.

Annoyingly, as he pulls out his card and handles the pump, he remembers Will’s scrunched nose and pursed lips as he’d explained, when they were 16, how gas station pumps were frequently more germy than their toilets, and cleaned approximately one hundred percent less. Suddenly, his hand begins to feel grimey.

Twelve bags of chips, a gas station slushie, and a pair of clean hands later, Will is still nowhere to be found. Nico frowns, craning his neck to look around the tiny parking lot as if he somehow missed Will’s neon orange shirt the first time he looked. Still not catching sight of him, he walks hesitantly back to the Jeep, tucking his snacks away and biting his lip, contemplating. Will is both very fast and very easily distracted, but he has enough sense not to go too far in a random town five hours from home. If he sticks by the car and waits, Will’ll be back soon.

But, on the other hand, waiting is torture.

Easy decision, really.

He locks the door, hopes that no one will show up with a pair of wire cutters and a flathead screw driver, and sets off. The first thing he notices, and he adds it to his mental list of things to loudly complain about when Will is locked in the car with him, is that it is fucking sweltering. In the hours approaching the afternoon, the day has gone to pleasantly warm to so hot the air is actually thick with it, and he doesn’t have wind ripping through the open windows to cool him down. Plus, he’s wearing jeans, and for the first, and hopefully only, time in his life, he envies his friend’s cargo shorts.

The second thing he notices is that Anthony, Florida, is empty as shit. All the love in his heart to the people who call it home, but also, move, maybe. He’s hesitant to stray too far from the gas station, in case Will comes back and finds him gone, but there are no hills or anything. He can see quite far down the road. The only thing he sees is a possum starting a fight with a poor random guy – which, actually, is kind of fun to watch.

Perhaps he has judged Anthony too harshly.

“Nico!” shouts a voice, startling him. He whips around and finds Will, standing in the goddamn centre of the road, the dumbass, waving like a lunatic.

“There is no possible way I was going to miss you,” Nico informs him when he’s close enough. “You are approximately the height of the Washington monument. I could not miss you if I tried.”

“I wasn’t waving to get your attention, I was waving to shoo away the eagles that mistook you for a mouse.”

Nico kicks him in the shin. Will, well used to his violence, dodges, grinning, except in the act of hopping away from Nico’s dangerously hardy boots, he somehow wraps his foot around his own ankle and goes sprawling.

Nico smirks. “Who’s the short one now.”

Faster than he can even follow, Will’s hand darts out, wrapping around his ankle, and tugs, yanking him yelping on the asphalt next to him.

“Foul!”

“All’s fair in love and war, Neeks.”

Shut the fuck up shut the fuck up shut the fuck up, Nico screams at the alarm bells blaring in his brain, he doesn’t mean it like that and you know it oh shit he’s looking this way quick look normal look normal –

“I can do war if that’s what you want, Solace,” he manages, honestly quite proud of himself for managing speech with approximately fourteen percent of his brain still functioning. Damn.

“Yeah, yeah. Anyway.” He crawls to his feet, offering Nico a hand. He takes it, dutifully fighting the urge to pull Will down again, just to be an asshole. He’s cool like that, and most definitely being normal about the scrape of Will’s callused fingers against the inside of his forearm. “I found maybe the funniest thing I’ve ever seen, and I need you to come look at it immediately.”

“Sick,” Nico says, immediately intrigued. He and Will have their differences, sure, but if there’s one thing they can agree on it’s their sense of humour.

He follows will down the road, passing the gas station again. (His car, thankfully, remains in one piece and beautifully not-robbed.) They dark across an empty intersection, walking across a yellowed lawn as they approach a run-down, patchy, one-storey bungalow with a rusted sign that reads: The Iron Works.

“Behold,” says Will gleefully, “the Abstract Iron Centaur.”

And behold, Nico does.

Gaping, he observes the structure standing proudly under the sign. Striding proudly, rather, its front legs bent to simulate movement, its human arms poised as if ready to strike. It wears a medieval knight’s helmet, and holds a rusted axe. The entire structure is a little taller than Will, and made of, presumably, iron, rusted into a light roan red.

“Abstract Iron Centaur,” Nico repeats, after several minutes of silence.

Will still looks delighted. “It was in my book. I had no idea what to expect and also I didn’t believe it was real. Isn’t it the greatest thing you’ve ever seen?”

“It’s…something.”

“We gotta take a picture, Neeks. I never want to forget this thing.”

Nico allows himself to be pulled, still somewhat bewildered. It’s not even the oddest thing he’s ever seen, it’s just – he has many questions, like, for example, why? How long has this creature existed? How long will it persist? Who created it? Why is it in Will’s dorky book? Does it house a soul?

“Okay, squish in, this camera is older than your elderly ass and doesn’t have a timer.”

The familiar jab breaks him out of his stupor. “Seven months older than you, fucker.”

“Geriatric.”

Without warning, Will crowds them under the Abstract Iron Centaur’s lifted arm, and then presses his widely grinning cheek right flush to Nico’s, raising his beat-up camera to the air.

Nico’s brain goes static.

“Say cheese!”

“Hnngh,” says Nico, as the camera blinds him.

Luckily for his continuously worsening blood pressure, Will pulls away the second he hears the click, shaking the ejected negative to help it develop, and Nico has a second to remind his lungs that they have a function, actually, get your shit together, I am not dying in fucking Anthony, Florida.

“You look like a dork!” Will says, delighted. “Look!”

Blinking at the photo shoved one sixteenth of an inch from his eyeballs, Nico indeed looks. The Abstract Iron Centaur looks more foreboding on camera, somehow, but Nico barely notices it – instead, he finds his gaze drawn to the beam so wide it forces Will’s eyes shut, and the dazed, dopey look on his own face; eyes wide, mouth dropped, slightly, and posture undeniably leaning into Will’s magnetism.

Humming to himself, Will slips his wallet out of (one of) the (many) pocket(s) of his shorts, tucking the photo inside it. Nico melts into a puddle of goo on the dead grass. His mortal soul escapes his body, descending rapidly. His atoms return to star dust. Et cetera.

“Oh, shit, we gotta go if we want to reach Georgia in good time.”

“Right,” says Nico, voice cracking. He clears his throat and tries again. “Let’s go.”

He absolutely does not haul ass to his car. He walks at a normal pace, for normal reasons, thoughts in a normal place.

“Back on the 75,” Will instructs as they peel out, sliding sunglasses on his nose. “We gotta scoot around town a bit to get to the entrance, but it won’t take long.”

“D’you know this place?” Nico asks, even though he doubts it. As far as he knows, Will was outside of Sarasota one time: in the move from Austin. He supposes his mother might have had a concert up here, or something, and unusually, let him tag along, but he doubts it.

“Nah, just memorised the map.”

Nico hides a smile. “Oh, of course.”

It’s all too easy to tease Will, but there was a reason he was valedictorian. There’s a reason for his many shining scholarship offers, his endless well of ridiculous facts pulled from nowhere. He is, genuinely, the smartest person Nico has ever met.

Even if he genuinely believes he can fight an alligator and win.

“Two hours ‘til we cross state lines,” Will says brightly, shouting slightly over the wind as they merge onto the highway. “And then on to infinity!”

“Onto infinity,” Nico agrees, matching his smile.

Already, he’s proved Nico wrong. They’re farther now than Will has been since he was seven, and there’s nothing in his expression that suggests he wants to slow down.

Privately, and quietly, Nico lets himself start to hope.

———

next chapter

114 notes · View notes

rosewaterandivy · 9 days

Text

a light on in chicago - I. winning looks like losing (and i'm winning every time)

summary: so it begins, Warped Tour ‘05 baby!

WC: 1550k

a/n: no, I did not forget about this little daydream. it’s coming on summer soon, which means nostalgia and concert going. pop-punk steve is alive and well, my friends!

masterlist || playlist

"She never meant a thing to me, 'cept putting idealists in a body bag" - "Growing Up" // Fall Out Boy

Steve has his Motorola Razr in hand before he reaches the top step of the bus, thumb pressing down on the keypad until 'ace' is selected and holds it to his ear. Tosses his snapback onto the table and sliding onto the banquet seat.

Hearing someone come up the steps behind him, he sees that Nancy has drawn the short-straw and now has to play babysitter.

Typical.

“What are you doing?” It’s not a question so much as a reprimand.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m calling her.”

“Like we haven’t tried that already, oh about a dozen times.”

Steve scoffs, kicking his feet up on the table. “Then I’ll keep calling until she answers or shows the fuck up.”

Nancy’s eyes roll to the back of her head, “You’re an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve glowers at Nancy as the automated voicemail message recording fill his ears. He grumbles and hits redial just as he hears someone tramping up the stairs.

“I got her!” Eddie bellows, pausing at the top step to catch his breath, “I got her, s’fine Steve. You can calm your tits now.”

He falls onto the couch opposite of Steve and moves to light the cigarette between his lips. Nancy, quick as ever, snatches the cigarette from his mouth and snaps it in half. Eddie squawks indignantly, too caught up in Nancy’s flagrant disrespect to pay attention as a duffle bag is thrown toward him.

It lands with a pained grunt against his chest, “The fuck?” He coughs out, zippo falling between the seat cushions in the chaos.

“Shit Ed,” You huff, falling alongside him on the sofa, “Thought you were gonna catch that, my bad.”

He’s quick to accept your apology with a smile, arm thrown over your shoulders as the duffle bag falls to the ground.

“Steve,” You greet with a tilt of your head.

He snaps the phone shut and fixes you with a look.

“Ooh,” Eddie tsks. “Think mom’s mad.”

Showing up to Warped Tour after releasing a debut album that’s barley a month old in a brand new tour bus and the (mostly) full confidence of their record label has Steve stressed, for lack of a better term. Under the Gun had received generally positive reviews, despite the back and forth with the label over song titles and “overly loquacious” choruses.

While the label didn’t give you all carte blanche to do whatever you wanted on the record, there was the advantage of time this go ‘round. Honorable Mention’s first two releases, an EP and LP respectively, were recorded quickly due to lack of funds for more studio time, and after signing with Island Records, the four of you plus Nance had hauled out to California for three months to write and record.

It wasn’t easy, not by a long shot, composing as a band was rough, as was co-writing lyrics with Eddie, the both of you having vastly different styles. Add to that Steve’s penchant for vetoing things like hooks, verses, choruses, and song titles after hearing them just once while being fiercely protective over his own work— well, let’s just say everyone was happier once the album was locked and management had signed off on it.

So glad, in fact, that you’d actually booked it back to Chicago just to put some distance between you and Steve. Too much tension, all things considered, especially after the incident.

Robin pushes her obnoxious heart-shaped sunglasses into her hair and screeches upon seeing you in the tour bus.

“Babe!”

She falls onto your and Eddie’s legs while Nancy looks on with a shake of her head and a fond smile.

“Glad to see that the three musketeers are back together,” Hop greets, hand affixed to the railing by the font steps. “Er, uh, four musketeers, I guess. Sorry Steve.” He nods to Steve and Nance, kisses his teeth before saying, “You rascals ready to go?”

“Now that we have our lead singer, yeah.” Steve grouses with a cross of his arms. Nance smacks the back of his head.

“So sorry Steven,” You say, voice laden with malice. “But in the event that I hadn’t shown up, I know that you could easily carry the burden of being frontman,” Eddie elbows you warningly. “As you have told me, many, many times.”

“Whatever.”

Hopper quirks a brow at you, unaccustomed to vitriol between the pair of you. “Okaaay,” He drawls, “Ignoring whatever the fuck that was, the first stop is Columbus.”

He goes over the details of what to expect, even though he’ll be there in person for the duration of the two-month tour. Nancy nods taking notes, because of course she does. Steve continues to glower at you because he’s got a stick up his ass. Meanwhile, you initiate a slap fight with Robin and Eddie out of sheer boredom.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Hop scolds you, “Would you cut that out? I already have one teenager to deal with, and I don’t need your bullshit on top of that.”

You perk up at the mention of his daughter, “Is El here yet?”

“She’s coming up with Joyce tomorrow to help with the merch tent.”

Momentarily dejected, you sit back against the cushions, legs in serious danger of going numb from Robin’s squirming. Murray climbs onto the bus during Hop’s little speech, settling in the driver’s seat with a deep sigh.

“Murray,” You say, “I’m so pissed you won’t be with us for the Canadian legs.”

You can feel Rob’s stomach contract in barely repressed laughter.

“Damn mounties,” Murray mutters under his breath, checking the mirrors and adjusting his seat.

“Yeah,” You continue, “It’s a real shame that they banned you from the country. And over what? A simple misunderstanding of—”

“I’m not a drug mule!”

Eddie snorts.

“What an unfounded accusation,” You say with a slow shake of your head. “I mean, what right do they have to do that? So you had some prescriptions, we’ve all been there.”

“Well, it’s a shit country, anyway.”

“Tell ‘em man!”

Steve lobs a water bottle toward Eddie’s head, he moves to avoid it and artfully flips him off.

“Y’done Ace?” Hop asks with a tap of his shoe. “We gotta get this show on the road and you know riling him up only makes his driving worse.”

“Oh,” You smirk, “I’m counting on it.”

Hopper ends the team meeting and says he’ll see everyone tomorrow for sound-check. As he leaves the bus, Steve grabs his phone and hat and heads to the lounge at the back of the bus. Robin scrambles off your lap to follow after him, but not before giving you a hug and kiss.

“Missed you babe!”

“Likewise!” You call after her and grab your bag from Eddie’s feet. “Shall we?” You inquire with an arched brow, offering him your arm.

“Sure thing, sweets.”

Leaving Nance and Murray to their own devices, you follow Eddie down the cramped hallway.

“So I’m over here,” He gestures to the right. “Nance and Rob are just there,” He points to the left. “Which leaves you and—”

“Don’t finish that sentence Edward.”

He turns with an impish grin, “What? Not looking forward to bunking with Steve?”

You roll your eyes in exasperation, “Clearly not.”

He’s already claimed the top bunk and throw his crap in it, like some rabid raccoon. You reluctantly toss your bag to the bunk underneath his.

“Why can’t I just bunk with you Ed?”

“C’mon Ace,” He wraps an arm around you, “Y’know I’ve gotta have space for my Sweetheart.”

You gag, earning a swat to the arm from him.

“How was California? Haven’t seen you in ages.”

He settles back against the sofa with you in the front lounge. Murray closes the bus door and pulls out of the parking lot. Nancy has made herself scarce, probably in the back with Rob and Steve, leaving you and Eddie to your own devices.

“Yeah, you high-tailed it outta there pretty fast.” Eddie says carefully, watchful as you tense up and begin to rifle through your purse. He lets you do that for a minute or two before continuing in the same carefree tone. “Wanna tell me why I found your Calvins in Stevie boy’s room after you left?”

You head moves so fast, he’s nearly worried about whiplash. In a flash, your eyes shrink back from their wide, shocked state as you try to school your features into a semblance of calm.

“Oh, he probably just grabbed ‘em by mistake,” You shrug nonchalantly, “We both wear Calvins so.”

“Sorry, let me clarify.” Eddie says with a wicked smirk. “Your thongs, Ace. Why would Steve have those, hmm?”

You scoff. “I don’t know. Maybe he was selling them online or something perverted like that?” You grab your journal and smack it down on the table. “Why were you snooping for my unmentionables, Edward?”

“Ah, you got me.” He laughs, fascinated by how quickly you rose to defense. “Was gonna sell them online. Guess Harrington beat me to it.”

He watched as you saunter toward the back of the bus, on a mission to extricate Rob from Steve’s clutches. Wonders how long the standoff will be this time and who will break first: you or Steve.

It was only a matter of time.

#steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #stranger things fanfiction #band!au #fic: aloic

49 notes · View notes

fullyinconsequential · 10 months

Text

Here’s a 3am Steddie rant I think every Steddie lover (and possibly hater) should hear. I have no goal to convert anyone—just to say that the ship did not actually “come from nothing.” Here’s why:

I don’t understand how there wasn’t Steddie foresight in the writer’s room.

So they play it up in season 3 like Steve just can’t get the girl and when he does she’s not the right girl and yada yada yada—cool beans. I love his character arc with Robin, their friendship, her queerness. I love their entire bathroom interaction.

Specifically: “It’s somebody that I didn’t even talk to in school. Maybe cuz Tommy H. would’ve made fun of me, or I wouldn’t be prom king…. First of all, she’s hilarious. So funny. I feel like this summer I have laughed harder than I have laughed in a really long time. And she’s smart—way smarter than me…. She’s honestly unlike anyone I’ve ever met before.”

Traits Robin Also Has that Eddie Shares:

Outcast

Band Kid

The Witty Banter

Eddie’s personality is VERY Robin. Not perfectly so, but maddeningly close.

Another point:

This is just the same person in different gender specific fonts, A.K.A. Steve’s “love interest” versus a guy who called him “big boy” completely unprompted and interrupted a tender moment between him and his “love interest” and complimented him for an entire scene while Steve wore his clothes.

So, really, one of them’s Steve’s love interest and the other is Nancy Wheeler /hj.

I write a lot, and as someone who both writes and consumes an abhorrent amount of media, whoever wrote this down, casted and costumed this way, and allowed for the interactions between Steve and Eddie to be as nuanced as they were (EX: the scene in which Eddie steps forward like he has more to say to Steve before he goes off and kills himself) had to have known what was going to happen. There is simply no way of not seeing it.

And if they didn’t want people shipping Steddie at the scale which they do, here’s what went wrong:

First: defaulting to Steve wanting his ex back is just plain shitty writing. It means you don’t know where to go with the character anymore, and since you’re certain he’s done all the growing he can do, he’s just gonna double back to the conflict he was in in the FIRST SEASON.

Are you serious right now, bro?

Steve’s arc as a character has been absolutely heartwarming to watch. If anything, he’d have been better off given the “I need to figure out how to be happy on my own” narrative. Throwing him back at Nancy is a cop out, a big one.

Second: Eddie. Throwing Eddie in the mix was absolutely a WILD decision, because he looks like Nancy, he banters like Robin, and GENDER IS NO LONGER A PLAUSIBLE REASON FOR AN AUDIENCE TO DENY CHEMISTRY, OR EXPLAIN IT AWAY. Not in the year of our lord 2023, no sir. Not unless you’re going to explicitly state in some way to an audience that these characters are DEFINITIVELY STRAIGHT. And with Eddie, they went as far off that course as possible.

The outcast stuff. The D&D stuff. The hatred of the system. The mysteriously living with his uncle and not his parents. THE HANKERCHIEF IN HIS BACK POCKET.

So essentially, this is what they did:

They took a beloved character, flubbed over his character arc because they weren’t sure what to do with it.

Then, they created a SECOND beloved character, made him likable, lovable, even, and relatable. Then they gave him half and half personality and looks of Steve’s last two love interests. Then they gave us scenes of them together where they showed chemistry, genuineness, and playfulness.

Then they EXPECTED that we as an audience had enough heteronormativity left as a society to say—oh, those two guys aren’t flirting with each other even a little bit because they’re two guys and obviously that doesn’t happen.

WHEN IN THE SAME SEASON WE WATCHED WILL AND ROBIN GO GAY PANIC AND DESPAIR LIKE?????

Pick a side pick a side, are your characters fucking gay or is your audience fucking blind?

Point being, I have some friends IRL who don’t really get this. They think Steve and Eddie hardly interacted enough for there to be romance at all, but I think it’s less about how much they interacted and more about the (unintentional) set up they were given by the writers.

Steve’s a truly beloved character and I don’t know on ST fan that wants to see him just end up back with Nancy Wheeler like his entire character arc was just to “get the girl” and “have six kids.” Which he already has by the way.

Anyway, that’s just my two cents. I’m not advocating for anyone to ship them, I’m just saying it’s honestly a perfectly logical conclusion to make, especially if you CARE about Steve as a character, you know? We want him to be with someone genuine, someone who challenges him to be better, to be different than he was. Nancy couldn’t handle doing that. Robin could, but they’re platonic af.

So why wouldn’t it be Eddie?

Rest in peace, by the way. You would’ve loved this text post.

#stranger things #steddie #writers #eddie munson #steve harrington #bisexual #gay #lgbtq #stranger things 4 #ultimately I’m just very confused by the writers #their choices seem so deliberate but they can’t possibly be #who instructed Joe to take that step forward?#what was the point of ‘for your modesty dude’#why make Steve’s only character trait needing a girlfriend?#why not make Eddie’s character a girl?#the Lance mcclainification of Steve harrington

259 notes · View notes

rocksanddeadflowers · 5 months

Text

I'm always getting told to post more about my crafts and whatnot so... patchwork Forgetmenauts shirt anyone?

Process under cut bc it was a scrap project and I had fun making it:

I had two green shirts I had been using as scrap fabric (first one was a graphic t shirt I didn't care for much, and the second is part of a shirt I thrifted mainly bc I adored the color and got it specifically for patch making). (Also sorry for poor quality on some images the camera lens on my phone is cracked lol.)

I really wanted a green shirt for layering (I've been slowly trying to get more earth tones in my wardrobe for a while, really), so I sliced and stitched these two pieces into one whole shirt again! I used my sewing machine to stick them together and hand stitched the smaller details I couldn't do on my machine. Then I forgot to take any more photos until after painting and cutting on it.

But that's how it came out! Pulled out my fabric paint (the tube was like 50 cents at the time I couldn't resist that) and drew the band name. I stylized the font more than initially intended, and I hope it's still legible to most folk lol (also noticed afterwards that some looked like actual Nordic runes. I must draw runes too much). Also cropped the shirt a bit (and will be saving the leftover fabric for another day!)

I was pretty happy with this result alone but I decided to be over the top and add some patches.

They're all references to songs (Card Shark, Charlatan in Red, Helena and Gerard, and the fangs are just... a general reference. I feel like a lot of creatures/people in their songs have fangs. Plus those are fun and easy to paint.)

Slapped those on and boom! Shirt! Finished shirt at the top. I'm rather happy with the end result (was aiming for a sorta gremlincore vibe with it so I think it was achieved). I might make changes eventually, like painting more details on or reinforcing some of the patches, but generally it's done. I'm mostly happy I achieved this with my scrap material! New merch for one of my favorite bands ever just from my leftovers! Always happy to be able to reuse and waste less. If you read this entire thing, bless you and have a good day/night <3

#the forgetmenauts #punk crafts #sewing #gremlincore #etc etc idk what else I'd tag this as

99 notes · View notes

pray4saint · 9 months

Note

could we get some hcs of what it was like planning your wedding and the actual wedding day for dteam? i think that’d be cute !! :))

dteam wedding planning hcs

masterlist & descrip. pg-13. 13+. gn!reader. bridezilla!dream energy.

a/n. yes ofc :)) this was a really cute idea

dream

probably has his own version of bridezilla going on: he's yelling at the planner, angry at how the venue looks, upset with the catering menu and how the invitations turned out despite how perfect they are

”clay, honey.” you turn his face to you and all the frustration is gone when he looks at you. ”hm?” ”the invitations are perfect,” you press a kiss to his cheek as you rub circles into his back, ”i promise.” he nods to you. ”everything's gonna be alright, okay?” again he nods and you kiss him, bringing a smile to both his lips and yours.

when you get into a bridezilla type frenzy he is absolutely not useful and you're both yelling at each other and if any outsider saw you two yelling they'd assume your marriage wouldn't last long

his mom is the one who gets the both of you to calm down, reminding you both that the wedding is only a public display of your commitment, and that all that really matters is how the two of you feel about getting married on the inside

clay who kisses your ring finger, just above your engagement ring every morning when you wake up and every night just before you let your exhausted rule your body and you fall asleep / and kisses your ring finger just after he's put your wedding band on it

wanted a colour scheme of white, green and a colour you thought would go with it

also definitely the type to refuse money from both of your families, claiming that he wants to show them how he can provide for you and you two will be fine without financial help from anyone even though it's really not that deep

when you get into a bridezilla type frenzy he is absolutely not useful and you're both yelling at each other and if any outsider saw you two yelling they'd assume your marriage wouldn't last long

wanted a colour scheme of white, green and a colour you thought would go with it

sapnap

absolutely believes in wedding superstitions: getting married on a wednesday, wearing a 'something borrowed' from people who've had long marriages, etc

and in honour of his greek heritage, he talked you into keep a sugar cube each somewhere on your person (it's said the cubes of sugar will sweeten your union)

aside from traditions and superstitions, he's very open to anything you want for the wedding

”baby are you sure there isn't anything you'd rather have?” you ask, eyes scrolling over the same venue and catering list again. he keeps an arm around your waist, smiling at your concentration. ”a hundred percent. whatever you want.”

one night after a couple of glasses of wine, you decided you two would be a little different and put your families on the wrong sides of the venue, his family behind you and your family behind him

very split menu, quarter greek food, quarter food of your choosing (or your favourites in your culture), and the rest of picked for you by the caterer

definitely has looked at both your first name with his last name and his first name with your last name in different fonts and handwriting styles

george

probably doesn't have any initial requests and only asks for little things as they come up during planning, like centrepieces for the reception that he knew his mom would like or the seating chart, again for the reception so he could move two people he knew would fight away from each other

also reminds you of little things while you're talking to all the professionals, like that a certain friend can't have garlic so the garlic bread is off the menu or another friend can't have meat so fish and salads have to be on the menu

lets you pick whatever colours you want, even if he couldn't see them (although let's be honest the main accent colour was blue)

always lets you talk to the professionals and even if it's his card being swiped, has you confirm all the details and prices

”darling, does this look right?” your eyes scan over the digital receipt and you immediately catch the error. ”no, there's a few too many centrepieces.” you point to the number and tap to bring it back down. he looks at you with such admiration while you do the simple task and it makes your cheeks heat up. ”george, what's wrong?” ”nothin', just admiring my spouse-to-be.” he smiles at you, putting an arm around your waist.

his only real request is to have a small registry, because he likes his things and he likes your things and doesn't want to replace anything just because a guest bought it for you

also he worked out playlists for every event leading up to the wedding and on the wedding day based solely on songs you told him you loves + like two songs he likes on each playlist

pray4saint© do not copy, translate or repost my work without my express permission.

130 notes · View notes

vampylily · 7 months

Text

Transcription of Fall Out Boy's interview with Rock Sound

Since I was going to read the article anyways, I thought I'd transcribe in case it'll be more accessible to read for others. The interview with Pete and Patrick goes in depth on the topics of tourdust, evolving as a band, So Much (For) Stardust, working with Neal Avron, and more.

Thank you to @nomaptomyowntreasure who kindly shared the photos of the article! Their post is linked here.

PDF link here. (more readable format & font size)

article in text below (and warning for long post.)

Rock Sound Issue #300

WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE

WITH THE TRIUMPHANT ‘SO MUCH (FOR) STARDUST’ CAPTURING A WHOLE NEW GENERATION OF FANS, FALL OUT BOY ARE RIDING HIGH, CELEBRATING THEIR PAST WHILE LOOKING TOWARDS A BRIGHT FUTURE. PETE WENTZ AND PATRICK STUMP REFLECT ON RECENT SUCCESSES AND THE LESSONS LEARNED FROM TWO DECADES OF WRITING AND PERFORMING TOGETHER.

WORDS: James Wilson-Taylor

PHOTOS: Elliott Ingham

You have just completed a US summer tour that included stadium shows and some of your most ambitious production to date. What were your aims going into this particular show?

PETE: Playing stadiums is a funny thing. I pushed pretty hard to do a couple this time because I think that the record Patrick came up with musically lends itself to that feeling of being part of something larger than yourself. When we were designing the cover to the album, it was meant to be all tangible, which was a reaction to tokens and skins that you can buy and avatars. The title is made out of clay, and the painting is an actual painting. We wanted to approach the show in that way as well. We've been playing in front of a gigantic video wall for the past eight years. Now, we wanted a stage show where you could actually walk inside it.

Did adding the new songs from ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ into the setlist change the way you felt about them?

PATRICK: One of the things that was interesting about the record was that we took a lot of time figuring out what it was going to be, what it was going to sound like. We experimented with so many different things. I was instantly really proud. I felt really good about this record but it wasn’t until we got on stage and you’re playing the songs in between our catalogue that I really felt that. It was really noticeable from the first day on this tour - we felt like a different band. There's a new energy to it. There was something that I could hear live that I couldn't hear before.

You also revisited a lot of older tracks and b-sides on this tour, including many from the ‘Folie à Deux’-era. What prompted those choices?

PETE: There were some lean years where there weren't a lot of rock bands being played on pop radio or playing award shows so we tried to play the biggest songs, the biggest versions of them. We tried to make our thing really airtight, bulletproof so that when we played next to whoever the top artist was, people were like, ‘oh yeah, they should be here.’ The culture shift in the world is so interesting because now, maybe rather than going wider, it makes more sense to go deeper with people. We thought about that in the way that we listen to music and the way we watch films. Playing a song that is a b-side or barely made a record but is someone’s favourite song makes a lot of sense in this era.

PATRICK: I think there also was a period there where, to Pete’s point, it was a weird time to be a rock band. We had this very strange thing that happened to us, and not a lot of our friends for some reason, where we had a bunch of hits, right? And it didn’t make any sense to me. It still doesn’t make sense to me. But there was a kind of novelty, where we could play a whole set of songs that a lot of people know. It was fun and rewarding for us to do that. But then you run the risk of playing the same set forever. I want to love the songs that we play. I want to care about it and put passion into what we do. And there’s no sustainable way to just do the same thing every night and not get jaded. We weren’t getting there but I really wanted to make sure that we don’t ever get there.

PETE: In the origin of Fall Out Boy, what happened at our concerts was we knew how to play five songs really fast and jumped off walls and the fire marshal would shut it down. It was what made the show memorable, but we wanted to be able to last and so we tried to perfect our show and the songs and the stage show and make it flawless. Then you don’t really know how much spontaneity you want to include, because something could go wrong. When we started this tour, and we did a couple of spontaneous things, it opened us up to more. Because things did go wrong and that’s what made the show special. We’re doing what is the most punk rock version of what we could be doing right now.

You seem generally a lot more comfortable celebrating your past success at this point in your career.

PETE: I think it’s actually not a change from our past. I love those records, but I never want to treat them in a cynical way. I never want there to be a wink and a smile where we’re just doing this because it’s the anniversary. This was us celebrating these random songs and we hope people celebrate them with us. There was a purity to it that felt in line with how we’ve always felt about it. I love ‘Folie à Deux’ - out of any Fall Out Boy record that's probably the one I would listen to. But I just never wanted it to be done in a cynical way, where we feel like we have to. But celebrating it in a way where there’s the purity of how we felt when we wrote the song originally. I think that’s fucking awesome.

PATRICK: Music is a weird art form. Because when you’re an actor and you play a character, that is a specific thing. James Bond always wears a suit and has a gun and is a secret agent. If you change one thing, that’s fine, but you can’t really change all of it. But bands are just people. You are yourself. People get attached to it like it’s a story but it’s not. That was always something I found difficult. For the story, it’s always good to say, ‘it’s the 20th anniversary, let’s go do the 20th anniversary tour’, that’s a good story thing. But it’s not always honest. We never stopped playing a lot of the songs from ‘Take This To Your Grave’, right? So why would I need to do a 20-year anniversary and perform all the songs back to back? The only reason would be because it would probably sell a lot of tickets and I don’t really ever want to be motivated by that, frankly.

One of the things that’s been amazing is that now as the band has been around for a while, we have different layers of audience. I love ‘Folie à Deux’, I do, I love that record. But I had a really personally negative experience of touring on it. So that’s what I think of when I think of that record initially. It had to be brought back to me for me to appreciate it, for me to go, ‘oh, this record is really great. I should be happy with this. I should want to play this,’ So that’s why we got into a lot of the b-sides because we realised that our perspectives on a lot of these songs were based in our feelings and experiences from when we were making them. But you can find new experiences if you play those songs. You can make new memories with them.

You alluded there to the 20th anniversary of ‘Take This To Your Grave’. Obviously you have changed and developed as a band hugely since then. But is there anything you can point to about making that debut record that has remained a part of your process since then?

PETE: We have a language, the band, and it’s definitely a language of cinema and film. That’s maintained through time. We had very disparate music tastes and influences but I think film was a place we really aligned. You could have a deep discussion, because none of us were filmmakers. You could say which part was good and which part sucked and not hurt anybody’s feelings, because you weren’t going out to make a film the next day. Whereas with music, I think if we’d only had that to talk about, we would have turned out a different band.

PATRICK: ‘Take This To Your Grave’, even though it’s absolutely our first record, there’s an element of it that’s still a work in progress. It is still a band figuring itself out. Andy wasn’t even officially in the band for half of the recording, right? I wasn’t even officially the guitar player for half of the recording. We were still bumbling through it. There was something that popped up a couple times throughout the record where you got these little inklings of who the band really was. We really explored that on ‘From Under the Cork Tree’’. So when we talk about what has remained the same… I didn’t want to be a singer, I didn’t know anything about singing, I wasn’t playing on that. I didn’t even plan to really be in this band for that long because Pete had a real band that really toured so I thought this was gonna be a side project. So there’s always been this element within the band where I don’t put too many expectations on things and then Pete has this really big ambition, creatively. There’s this great interplay between the tour of us where I’m kind of oblivious, and I don’t know when I’m putting out a big idea and Pete has this amazing vision to find what goes where. There’s something really magical about that because I never could have done a band like this without it. We needed everybody, we needed all four of us. And I think that’s the thing that hasn’t changed - the four of us just being ourselves and trying to figure things out. Listening back to ‘Folie’ or ‘Infinity On High’ or ‘American Beauty’. I’m always amazed at how much better they are than I remember. I listened to ‘MANIA’ the other day. I have a lot of misgivings about that record, a lot of things I’m frustrated about. But then I’m listening to it and I’m like, ‘this is pretty good.’ There’s a lot of good things in there. I don’t know why, it’s kind of like you can’t see those things. It’s kind of amazing to have Pete be able to see those things. And likewise, sometimes Pete has no idea when he writes something brilliant, as a lyricist, and I have to go, ‘No, I’m gonna keep that one, I’m gonna use that.’

On ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ you teamed up with producer Neal Avron again for the first time since 2008. Given how much time has passed, did it take a minute to reestablish that connection or did you pick up where you left off?

PATRICK: It really didn’t feel like any time had passed between us and Neal. It was pretty seamless in terms of working with him. But then there was also the weird aspect where the last time we worked with him was kind of contentious. Interpersonally, the four of us were kind of fighting with each other…as much as we do anyway. We say that and then that myth gets built bigger than it was. We were always pretty cool with each other. It’s just that the least cool was making ‘Folie’. So then getting into it again for this record, it was like no time had passed as people but the four of us got on better so we had more to bring to Neal.

PETE: It’s a little bit like when you return to your parents’ house for the holiday break when you’re in college. It’s the same house but now I can drink with my parents. We’d grown up and the first times we worked with Neal, he had to do so much more boy scout leadership, ‘you guys are all gonna be okay, we’re gonna do this activity to earn this badge so you guys don’t fucking murder each other.’ This time, we probably got a different version of Neal that was even more creative, because he had to do less psychotherapy.

He went deep too. Sometimes when you’re in a session with somebody, and they’re like, ‘what are we singing about?’, I’ll just be like, ‘stuff’. He was not cool with ‘stuff’. I would get up and go into the bathroom outside the studio and look in the mirror, and think ‘what is it about? How deep are we gonna go?’ That’s a little bit scarier to ask yourself. If last time Neal was like a boy scout leader, this time, it was more like a Sherpa. He was helping us get to the summit.

The title track of the album also finds you in a very reflective mood, even bringing back lyrics from ‘Love From the Other Side’. How would you describe the meaning behind that title and the song itself?

PETE: The record title has a couple of different meanings, I guess. The biggest one to me is that we basically all are former stars. That’s what we’re made of, those pieces of carbon. It still feels like the world’s gonna blow and it’s all moving too fast and the wrong things are moving too slow. That track in particular looks back at where you sometimes wish things had gone differently. But this is more from the perspective of when you’re watching a space movie, and they’re too far away and they can’t quite make it back. It doesn’t matter what they do and at some point, the astronaut accepts that. But they’re close enough that you can see the look on their face. I feel like there’s moments like that in the title track. I wish some things were different. But, as an adult going through this, you are too far away from the tether, and you’re just floating into space. It is sad and lonely but in some ways, it’s kind of freeing, because there’s other aspects of our world and my life that I love and I want to keep shaping and changing.

Patrick: I’ll open up Pete’s lyrics and I just start hearing things. It almost feels effortless in a lot of ways. I just read his lyrics and something starts happening in my head. The first line, ‘I’m in a winter mood, dreaming of spring now’, instantly the piano started to form to me. That was a song that I came close to not sending the band. When I make demos, I’ll usually wait until I have five or six to send to everybody. I didn’t know if anyone was gonna like this. It’s too moody or it’s not very us. But it was pretty unanimous. Everybody liked that one. I knew this had to end the record. It took on a different life in the context of the whole album. Then on the bridge section, I knew it was going to be the lyrics from “Love From The Other Side’. It’s got to come back here. It’s the bookends, but I also love lyrically what it does, you know, ‘in another life, you were my babe’, going back to that kind of regret, which feels different in ‘Love From The Other Side’ than it does here. When the whole song came together, it was the statement of the record.

Aside from the album, you have released a few more recent tracks that have opened you up to a whole new audience, most notably the collaboration with Taylor Swift on ‘Electric Touch’.

PETE: Taylor is the only artist that I’ve met or interacted with in recent times who creates exactly the art of who she is, but does it one such a mass level. So that’s breathtaking to watch from the sidelines. The way fans traded friendship bracelets, I don’t know what the beginning of it was, but you felt that everywhere. We felt that, I saw that in the crowd on our tour. I don’t know Taylor well, but I think she’s doing exactly what she wants and creating exactly the art that she wants to create. And going that, on such a level, is really awe-inspiring to watch. It makes you want to make the biggest, weirdest version of our thing and put that out there.

Then there was the cover of Billy Joel’s ‘We Didn’t Start The Fire’, which has had some big chart success for you. That must have taken you slightly by surprise.

PATRICK: It’s pretty unexpected. Pete and I were going back and forth about songs we should cover and that was an idea that I had. This is so silly but there was a song a bunch of years ago I had kind of written called ‘Dark Horse’ and then there was a Katy Perry song called ‘Dark Horse’ and I was like, ‘damn it’, you know, I missed the boat on that one. So I thought if we don’t do this cover, somebody else is gonna do it. Let’s just get in the studio and just do it. We spent way more time on those lyrics than you would think because we really wanted to get a specific feel. It was really fun and kind of loose, we just came together in Neal’s house and recorded it in a day.

PETE: There's irreverence to it. I thought the coolest thing was when Billy Joel got asked about it, and he was like, ‘I’m not updating it, that’s fine, go for it.’ I hope if somebody ever chose to update one of ours, we’d be like that. Let them do their thing, they’ll have that version. I thought that was so fucking cool.

It’s almost no secret that the sound you became most known for in the md-2000s is having something of a commercial revival right now But what is interesting is seeing how bands are building on that sound and changing it.

PATRICK: I love when anybody does anything that feels honest to them. Touring with Bring Me The Horizon, it was really cool seeing what’s natural to them. It makes sense. We changed our sound over time but we were always going to do that. It wasn’t a premeditated thing but for the four of us, it would have been impossible to maintain making the same kind of music forever. Whereas you’ll play with some other bands and they live that one sound. You meet up with them for dinner or something and they’re wearing the shirt of the band that sounds just like their band. You go to their house and they’re playing other bands that sound like them because they live in that thing. Whereas with the four of us and bands like Bring Me The Horizon, we change our sounds over time. And there’s nothing wrong with either. The only thing that’s wrong is if it’s unnatural to you. If you’re AC/DC and all of a sudden power ballads are in and you’re like, ‘Okay, we’ve got to do a power ballad’, that’s when it sucks. But if you’re a thrash metal guy who also likes Celine Dion then yeah, do a power ballad. Emo as a word doesn’t mean anything anymore. But if people want to call it that, if the emo thing is back or having another life again, if that’s what’s natural to an artist, I think the world needs more earnest art. If that’s who you are, then do it.

PETE: It would be super egotistical to think that the wave that started with us and My Chemical Romance and Panic! At The Disco has just been circling and cycling back. I remember seeing Nikki Sixx at the airport and he was like, ‘Oh you’re doing a flaming bass? Mine came from a backpack.’ It keeps coming back but it looks different. Talking to Lil Uzi Vert and Juice WRLD when he was around, it’s so interesting, because it’s so much bigger than just emo or whatever. It’s this whole big pop music thing that’s spinning and churning, and then it moves on, and then it comes back with different aspects and some of the other stuff combined. When you’re a fan of music and art and film, you take different stuff, you add different ingredients, because that’s your taste. Seeing the bands that are up and coming to me, it’s so exciting, because the rules are just different, right? It’s really cool to see artists that lean into the weirdness and lean into a left turn when everyone’s telling you to make a right. That’s so refreshing.

PATRICK: It’s really important as an artist gets older to not put too much stock in your own influence. The moment right now that we’re in is bigger than emo and bigger than whatever was happening in 2005. There’s a great line in ‘Downton Abbey’ where someone was asking the Lord about owning this manor and he’s like ‘well, you don’t really own it, there have been hundreds of owners and you are the custodian of it for a brief time.’ That’s what pop music is like. You just have the ball for a minute and you’re gonna pass it on to somebody else.

We will soon see you in the UK for your arena tour. How do you reflect on your relationship with the fans over here?

PETE: I remember the first time we went to the UK, I wasn’t prepared for how culturally different it was. When we played Reading & Leeds and the summer festivals, it was so different, and so much deeper within the culture. It was a little bit of a shock. The first couple of times we played, I was like, ‘Oh, my God, are we gonna die?’ because the crowd was so crazy, and there was bottles. Then when we came back, we thought maybe this is a beast to be tamed. Finally, you realise it’s a trading of energy. That made the last couple of festivals we played so fucking awesome. When you realise that the fans over there are real fans of music It’s really awesome and pretty beautiful.

PATRICK: We’ve played the UK now more than a lot of regions of the states. Pretty early on, I just clicked with it. There were differences, cultural things and things that you didn’t expect. But it never felt that different or foreign to me, just a different flavour…

PETE: This is why me and Patrick work so well together (laughs).

PATRICK: Well, listen; I’m a rainy weather guy. There is just things that I get there. I don’t really drink anymore all that much. But I totally will have a beer in the UL, there’s something different about every aspect of it, about the ordering of it, about the flavour of it, everything, it’s like a different vibe. The UK audience seemed to click with us too. There have been plenty of times where we felt almost like a UK band than an American one. There have been years where you go there and almost get a more familial reaction than you would at home.

Rock Sound has always been a part of that for us. It was one of the first magazines to care about us and the first magazine to do real interviews. That’s the thing, you would do all these interviews and a lot of them would be like ‘so where did the band’s name come from?’ But Rock Sound took us seriously as artists, maybe before some of us did. That actually made us think about who we are and that was a really cool experience. I think in a lot of ways, we wouldn’t be the band we are without the UK, because I think it taught us a lot about what it is to be yourself.

Fall Out Boy’s ‘So Much (For) Stardust’ is out now via Fueled By Ramen

#fall out boy #fob #tourdust #pete wentz #patrick stump #fob interview #so much for stardust #smfs era #your unemployed friend at 2pm on a monday:#anyways. hope this is helpful i loved the interview!

96 notes · View notes

the-fantabulous-toast · 1 year

Text

Lettering sound effects in Shiori Experience

Hi! I’m Toast, the letterer on #dropout’s English translation of Shiori Experience. This series was my first time doing typesetting, and I’ve learned a lot over the two years I’ve been involved in the project. Each new chapter brings new challenges, and as our team has matured we’ve gotten more ambitious. We recently began translating the comic’s sound effects along with the dialogue, a decision which instantly doubled the size of our workload.

Our most recent release, Chapter 64, was probably the most technically complex chapter we’ve done so far. The sound effects in this chapter were varied and complicated, presenting a number of interesting challenges. Today I thought it would be fun to give y’all a peek behind the curtain, and show the thought process and effort that goes into the adaptation of sound effects in Shiori Experience.

Shiori Experience is a music manga [citation needed], so it isn’t surprising that the sound effects can get pretty complicated. Music manga need to convey not just the sound, but more importantly the impact of a performance, conveying an auditory experience in a totally silent medium. Shiori Experience’s approach to this problem is to make the sound effects semi-diegetic objects. They hang in the air, burst out of crowds, get obscured by foreground objects, and cast shadows on their environment. This is a really cool effect, but also makes converting them from Japanese to English a fucking nightmare.

(Look at the shadows)

Shiori Experience is kind of a nightmare

In some ways, lettering for Shiori Experience isn’t actually that difficult. Sound effects in this series are goddamn everywhere and they’re fucking gigantic, but they’re always straightforward. Much like the art of the series, the sound effects are clean and angular, strong dynamic shapes which are easy to parse even if you can’t read the katakana. For a great example of this, look at this sequence from Chapter 64.

This sequence demonstrates what you can achieve with good lettering. The sound of the band is conveyed perfectly with these visuals. The clear and regular beat of the drums, the dark and energetic bass line, the screaming uncontrollable energy of the electric guitar. We didn’t even bother translating it. We didn’t need to.

But look at the sequence again. In spite of its apparent complexity, there’s only two fonts here, a dynamic block text and an angular brush. Those two fonts represent the vast majority of SFX in Shiori Experience. The rest is just text effects and perspective tricks.

So to convert these sound effects into English, we just have to find equivalent fonts. It took me a while to pin down a set of fonts I was happy with. For the pointy brush font I eventually settled on Jolly Lodger, a brush font with a sort of piratey vibe. I’m still not 100% satisfied with this conversion, it isn’t as pointy as the original, but it’s good enough for now.

And for the big block font I chose Boogaloo. It looks a little thin when it’s on its own like this, but it really bulks up with the right text effects.

Great! We’ve got our fonts! Doing the sound effects should be as simple as erasing the old text and replacing it with the new text, right? Wrong. The nightmare begins.

Different approaches

There are several schools of thought when it comes to lettering manga SFX. One is the "keikkaku means plan" approach. In a translator's note outside the panel, or in plain text near the SFX, describe what the sound is. This is incredibly easy. This is also lame.

(This is from the official release of Dungeon Meshi. I wouldn’t want to redraw this one either, but like, come on guys.)

Another school of thought is style matching. Similar to the translator’s note approach, but rather than plain text, the translation uses similar text effects to the original SFX. This works fine, but it can create a lot of visual clutter if implemented poorly.

(This is from Drifting Dragons. Please read Drifting Dragons.)

The last approach is full replacement. In this approach, the original SFX is (are you ready for this?) fully replaced by the new SFX.

SFX Redrawing

Replacing a sound effect isn’t as simple as just erasing it. We work with tankoban pages, scans of the Japanese volume release. These files are flattened, with the art and text all on one layer as a single image. We can’t just disable the text. In order to remove the original SFX, we have to redraw them.

(for context this is from when I had covid)

Redrawing means recreating the art hidden by the original SFX. This is a complex process, requiring a steady hand, sharp eyes, and a lot of guesswork. Since we don’t know what precisely is underneath the original SFX, we have to use context to reconstruct it. The goal of any localization is to make the translation invisible to the reader. The same principle holds true in redrawing. The art we add needs to be invisible, meshing seamlessly with the original artwork.

(I made this dude up out of whole cloth. I’m honestly really proud of how he came out.)

#Dropout uses a mix of style matching and full replacement, with the choice between the two being determined by a number of factors. To illustrate that decision-making process, let’s break down the process of redrawing a page of Shiori Experience, specifically the spread across pages 172 and 173 from Chapter 64.

Deciding between Style Match and Full Replacement

This is the original untranslated page, and there’s a lot going on.

In the background of the first panel is the sound of the band, バアアアン, phonetically translated as "BA-A-A-A-N", localized as “BWAAAM”. In the foreground is the cheering of the crowd, ボオワアアア, "BO-O-WA-A-A-A" phonetically, “ROOAAR” localized. Lastly, along the side of panels 3 through 6 is applause, パチ, "PA-CHI", “CLAP”.

At a glance, this page is overwhelming. The cheering sound effect is huge, with custom text effects conveying the energy of the crowd. Worse is the clapping, which overlays multiple panels with dozens of unique partially obscured faces. This looks like a pain in the ass to redraw, but in the end I decided to do a full replacement instead of a simpler style match. With the number and size of the SFX combined with the visual density of the panels, doing a style match would result in a cluttered unreadable mess. Too much of the original artwork would be covered, and there just isn’t enough space. So, full replacement.

The redrawing process

As I’ve gained more experience, it’s been surprising to learn what constitutes a difficult redraw. You’d expect crowd shots to be the hardest, with lots of unique faces and little details, but they actually aren’t that bad IMO. More detail means more context means less guessing. Definitely a lot of work, but not difficult. Meanwhile, something like a gradient or screentone pattern which looks simple is actually a goddamn nightmare to recreate, as we'll see later.

That’s why I started my redraw for this page with the clapping. Again, this looks like it would be really hard, but looks can be deceiving. There’s a lot of clapping, yes, but the text is thin and spaced out. Whiting out the text reveals just how little artwork is actually hidden by the sound effects.

After whiting out the original text, the next step is connecting as many existing lines as I can. I do the panel and bubble borders on a separate layer since they’re simple structural elements. The artwork itself requires a bit more thought. I need to examine the original artwork carefully to avoid connecting lines that shouldn’t be connected. Context can also provide guidance where there are no lines to connect, such as the cheering guy’s hat in the first panel, or the clapping hand in the second panel. Also, when there’s lots of little SFX like this it’s easy to miss a few lines, like the box thing near the bottom of the last panel (don’t worry I catch it later).

The last step is adding in all the inking and screentones, the pattern templates which fill in the “color” to the line work. I have to go through with the clone stamp tool, collect samples from the image, and extend the pattern to fill the blank areas. This is the most annoying step in the process for me, because it requires a level of precision even beyond what’s required for the line work. Humans are pattern-recognition machines. Our brains are really good at catching tiny discrepancies, like when a section of a pattern doesn’t quite line up with the rest of it. My patch job on this panel wasn’t perfect, and you can see where I couldn’t quite line things up in areas like the guy’s checkered shirt in the first panel.

And with that, this redraw is complete! Now it’s time to insert the English translation of the sound effect.

SFX Lettering

The clapping SFX is in that same brush font I pointed out earlier, which we use JollyLodger for. There’s no real perspective things or text effects here, so mimicking the original isn’t difficult. Here’s the before and after.

This approach of fully redrawing the old SFX before inserting the new SFX only works in situations like this, where the text is small and there’s enough detail to reconstruct the image with a high level of confidence. As an SFX gets larger, like the roar of a crowd, the harder it gets to fully replace. This calls for a different approach.

Because of the size and complexity of this sound effect, I decided to do the lettering first. This is the block font I identified earlier, which is replaced by Boogaloo. I do some basic manipulation right away, applying a black outline and distorting the text to create the same perspective effect as the original. The SFX in this series are subtly three-dimensional, and the replacement text needs to be in the same orientation to sell the effect.

I’m also being careful with my placement here, doing my best to align the new text with the old. This will be important later.

Next we need to recreate the distortion effect. Photoshop has functionality to mimic this kind of effect, but I opted to do it manually. Osada (the mangaka) does all these layouts, SFX and all, on paper. The original effect was hand drawn, so the replacement effect is hand drawn.

The lettering for this effect is now complete, and we can begin the redraw process. Since we already have the letters in place, we have the advantage of knowing exactly where a redraw is needed, turning what would otherwise have been an enormous replacement into a minor patch job. From here, it’s the same process as the clapping SFX: Raw, Blank, Line, Fill.

Minor sidebar: translating Japanese sound effects presents an interesting and incredibly niche problem. The katakana symbol オ is translated phonetically as “o”. The problem with that is that when you’re replacing a オ with an O in a sound effect, the hole of the O is positions right on the center of the オ. This makes オ really annoying to redraw. Every O turns into a little window of totally new art, with barely any reference points to draw from. It violates the principle of invisibility, but there’s really no way around it. You can see I got a little lazy here, and clonestamped a different section of the crowd into the hole. As long as I don’t draw attention to it nobody will notice. I hope.

Sidebar over. Just for fun, here’s the before and after for the whole page.

Closing thoughts

So that’s what it takes to do the sound effects for one page of Shiori Experience. This page alone took me multiple days to complete, and it wasn’t even the most complicated page in this chapter. It isn’t why our releases take so long (that can be laid at the feet of staffing and scheduling issues), but hopefully I’ve given you a sense of how much work goes into each new chapter.

This chapter would have taken even longer without the help of Adi and Bangistus, who pitched in on a lot of the smaller SFX. Up until now the lettering of this series has been a solo show, Toast all the way down. Now that Adi and Bang are on the team I’m still keeping most of the big pages for myself, but being able to toss to the others when I get overwhelmed is going to be invaluable. Hopefully I can rely on them in the future as well, there’s some big things coming down the pipe

This series is a labor of love. Sometimes frustrating, often exhausting, but always worth it. I owe this series a lot, and I hope it shows in the work I put into it. I think it would be fun to do more behind the scenes process content like this, so maybe keep an eye out for that in the future.

Lastly, just as a status update, #dropout is not dropping Shiori Experience. We have a temporary translator who’s helping us put together Chapter 65, which will be coming out Eventually™. Not as long as last time, but like always don’t hold your breath. We’re not sure what will happen after 65 drops. We’re still desperately hiring for a main translator, seriously if you know anybody please hit me up.

That’s all from me. Take care y’all.

#shiori experience #scanlation #lettering #typesetting #redrawing #manga #toastpoasting

239 notes · View notes

ships-to-sail · 27 days

Text

WIP Wednesday 4.3.24

Well, y'all, blink and it's been a week! Seven whole days later and I here I am again with more @firenati0n prompted shenanigans. The rival bakers stay rivaling, but there may or may not be (but most definitely is) sexy dough kneading this round, so. thanks be to the universe for that!

He motions across the street with a wild gesture. “There’s a new bakery?!” “Apparently,” Ellen says, her voice calm even as her brows pinch together by another fraction of an inch. “Since when?!” “Since about two weeks ago, mijo, if you’d actually read any of the signs across the street,” his dad says as he comes out from the small kitchen in the back, wiping the flour on his hands onto the hand towel sitting on his shoulder. A wave of sugar-and-cinnamon smell smacks Alex in the face, and he knows the first pans of conchas are sitting on the racks in the back, waiting for them to flip the sign on the door from CLOSED to OPEN. “Patissier du Renard,” the traces of his father’s Mexican accent turning the French syllables into a different kind of dance. “Who the fuck is Renard?” “It’s French for —” “Language, Alex,” his mother barks at him again, spinning on her heel, the corners of her mouth tucked down. The set of her jaw makes it abundantly clear that it’s not actually his choice of four-letter words that’s bothering her. But Alex, while not always the smartest guy, is also not an idiot, and so decides that this is not the moment he wants to push her on the issue. Holding up two hands, he gives her a sincere, “Sorry, ma,” has he slips behind her, stopping to press a kiss to her cheek before he pushes open the swinging door to the kitchen and grabs his favorite bright yellow apron off the back of the door and flipping the neck band over his head. He ties the strap behind his waist absentmindedly, making his way to the far fridge and grabbing out a 10-gallon tupperware of concha dough, tossing it onto the workstation behind him with a loud bang. His thoughts stay on the new bakery across the street, the crowd of people he couldn’t see through overlaid with the columns and columns of numbers growing increasingly larger, but in vivid, blood-red font. He can’t see past it as he crosses to a different set of fridges, pulling down jars of fillings and jams — mango and strawberry, passionfruit and limón, whatever his hands can reach until his arms are full. He drops them next to the dough with a clatter, and lets his hands work on autopilot as the gears in his brain spin at warpspeed, trying to process through this new piece of information. He uses a pastry cutter to slice off a chunk of the dough, tossing it onto the waiting scale, before adding a smaller piece and then sliding the whole pile off the metal plate and onto the cool metal of the work bench. Reaching beneath him, he grabs a small container of flour and flicks it open, sprinkling some over both his hands and the table. His heels dig into the cold, partially sticky dough as he begins to pull at the edges of the pile, his fingers pushing and his palms pressing, his hands working occasionally together but even more frequently at odds, as he begins to work his family’s award winning concha dough into a batch of slightly-less-popular (but in Alex’s opinion superior) chamucos.

a giant thank you to @suseagull04, @cha-melodius, @wordsofhoneydew and @hgejfmw-hgejhsf for the tags -- I'll leave my tags below the cut, and consider this your hearty invitation to take the open tag, especially if you never have before!

@affectionatelyrs @anchoredarchangel @anincompletelist @clottedcreamfudge @cricketnationrise @cultofsappho @daisymae-12 @everwitch-magiks @getmehighonmagic @happiness-of-the-pursuit @indestructibleheart @indomitable-love @inexplicablymine @leaves-of-laurelin @lizzie-bennetdarcy-afterdark @myheartalivewrites @notspecialbabe @orchidscript @rmd-writes @sparklepocalypse @ssmtskw @stereopticons @tintagel-or-cockleshells @welcometololaland @whimsymanaged @kiwiana-writes

#red white & royal blue #rwrb #wip wednesday #rival bakers

27 notes · View notes

20dollarlolita · 10 months

Text

Fast couple of things about fashion flats, specifically inspired by an indie patternmaker who is well known for offering patterns that no one can actually tell what they'll look like when they're made.

Fashion flats are a kind of fashion illustration designed to accurately show the detail of a garment. It's a picture of the garment, as if it was sitting on a flat surface, where all details are shown. This one is from Otomo no Sewing.

.1. Fashion flats should be drawn in proportion of a real human being. These are not the traditional 20-heads-tall illustration body. Your template that you use (and yes, you should use a template) should have real human proportions.

This specific template isn't particularly ideal, because it's just me tracing a picture of a person. If you're making a flat to communicate things for personal reasons, downloading a mannequin online is a totally good options. If you're a pattern company, you might want to make your own. Please reference a real human when you make your template, so that your flats are actually usable.

2. Your flats should all be in proportion to each other. If you're drawing a collection of garments, each garment should be drawn with the same reference template. If one shirt is shorter than another, then your illustrations should reflect that. If you are a pattern company, all your flats should be drawn as if they're going to be worn by the same model. This will allow people to see that the bustline on some patterns is higher than the bustline on other patterns by the same company.

.3. A flat is not a picture of a garment on an invisible body. A flat is a picture of the garment lying flat on a surface. When you're drawing a garment on a person, the waistline will be curved, because it's wrapped around the person. When you're drawing a garment lying flat, the waistline should be a straight line, because it's lying flat. In the language of fashion flats, a curved waistline means that the waistline is actually sewn with a curve.

.4. Whenever possible, you should draw your flat by laying the actual garment on a flat surface, and drawing what you see. You must still use your template for this, to make sure you draw bustlines at bustlines and waistlines at waists, but you should just draw the things you see.

.5. Trace things whenever possible. If your garment is symmetrical, your flat should absolutely be symmetrical. Draw half of the garment, fold your paper in half, and trace that half onto the other side. The front of the garment will always be attached to the back of the garment, so finish yoru front view, and then trace the outline of your front view. Fill in the details and you have your back view.

.6. While a well-done flat is a piece of art, the art in fashion flats is not in interpretation. It is in accurate and effective communication. Someone who is really good at flats is not pouring their heart and soul and creativity into their work. Someone who is really good at flats is someone who can capture all the detail accurately, and who can do that quickly. A flat is the equivalent of a 12pt Times New Roman document that lists the ingredients you need for zucchini bread: its purpose is to communicate meaning, not to show itself off. Your fashion collection or pattern company can show its uniqueness and style in so many other ways; just let the flats communicate the info they should be communicating. You don't need to typeset your instructions in webdings or the font metal bands use for their names, and you don't need to make your flats kawaii.

#20dollarlolita #patternmaking #not to call c/s out specificaly #unless someone wants a breakdown of where their illustations go wrong

100 notes · View notes

shark-myths · 27 days

Note

🍓 🥤 🌿 for the ask game!!!! <333

🍓 ⇢ how did you get into writing fanfiction?

one of my favorite k facts tbh. i invented fanfiction at jesus camp with my new friend eden. we clutched each other on a hillside while a god rock band performed below, puffy with mosquito bites and illicit ideas, and whispered to one another of the members of our mutual favorite band, what if they kissed each other? we were 13 years old. camp was so in-the-middle-of-nowhere you could see the whole milky way at night, the thickness of it. the grass got wetter and wetter the longer you sat in the dark, hiding from the flashlights of your counselors. every few breaths you'd see a shooting star, til you were numb to marvel, til that was just what the night sky looked like and you expected it everywhere. it was magic and no one had ever thought of it before, boys in bands kissing. when we went home to our separate cities, i started handwriting fic (decorated with gel pen! this was the year 2003) and mailing it to her in hot pink envelopes. imagine my surprise when i discovered the internet.

🥤 ⇢ recommend an author or fanfic you love

one of my favorite fics i ever read was a girl!one direction story about squirting. here it is: you change, water sea by got2ghost

🌿 ⇢ give some advice on writer's block and low creativity

love this question, as someone who has struggled in the workplace to maintain the same creative energy i had access to in school.

for creativity: read. read endlessly. try to understand on a granular, sentence-and-word-level, why you like the things you like; what makes a line funny, what makes a line scary, what draws you in to a writer's style vs pushes you out of it. what do the books you can't put down have in common? read things that challenge you--long-form novels, old novels, things way outside your preferred genres. and try to have lots of experiences in the time you aren't writing. try new things! paint something, walk down a block you've never been on, look in people's windows, cook a new meal, get coffee at a new place, go for a drive, listen to someone else's favorite record, listen to a record you hate actually, go to a new store and just look around, touch fabrics, dance, have conversations, travel for no reason, watch videos on youtube about new skills you don't intend to master. READ NONFICTION, especially essays. try to avoid doing the same things you're comfortable with or things that feel easy for a whole afternoon. bury yourself in sensation. chase pleasure. let yourself play.

for writer's block: write anyway--in a journal, in your fragmented notes file with ideas, edit or polish something that's already written, get one sentence out. i like to set a timer for 20 minutes and give it a proper try (this means staying off tumblr and my phone) and then, if it doesn't lead to anything, i'm off the hook guilt-free, because i made an effort. try writing in a different notebook, with a different pen, in a different place, even in a different font on your computer. set yourself challenges like, write a 100 word story. write a specific type of poem like a villanelle. respond to a prompt or create one for someone else. if there's a part of the story--or a different story--that feels more easeful to write and you're just trying to get there, skip to that part. to be quite honest, writing in a notebook away from technology is the #1 thing that helps me just keep moving. it breaks me out of distraction and perfectionism cycles. it feels good to fill pages, even if it's with words you don't even up using.

the other part is, accept that our brains won't do what they won't do. great writing is not created by use of force. the biggest thing i have learned about myself is that if i can't write, there's something wrong. maybe the characters in my story aren't making sense, maybe the plot is boring and readers will be just as bored as i am, maybe i need to go back and rewrite something to end up in a better place for the next scene, maybe i need a week off from a story because i'm burned out on it and i should write something else or nothing at all. but most often there's not something wrong with the story--there's something wrong with my life. i don't have the time or the energy; i'm giving too much of the best parts of myself to the wrong thing; i'm trying to write at the wrong time of day for my energy level; i checked my email first and now my concentration is entirely shot; i need to work fewer hours if i want to write more; i need more help around the house if i want to write more; i need to just let it be dirty for a while and skip my chores if i want to write more, etc. figuring out what you need to actually feel like writing--learn to feel that again!--and making it possible to set other things, even important things, aside in order to write when you feel it, is so huge for me. making a commitment to the practice of writing and not the product of it. if you're doing that, you can relax. take care of yourself and fix the imbalances in your life. the ideas will come. writing is organic and we are organisms. given space and time, things will always change from how they are right now. let yourself and your creative practice ebb and flow when it needs to instead of forcing it to be something it's not.

thank you for the ask darling sorry i ranted at you for twenty fucking minutes!!!

#asks #ask game #on writing #writing #thank you lovely!!!

19 notes · View notes