I've been seeing some not exactly bad, but like... sour takes as im calling them about the world of home's relationships with each other as friends? Like, saying they aren't exactly as close and kinda rude to each other.. I'm not sure what audio you guys are finding for evidence of that? Like, ya'll know friends can tease in all lighthearted fun, even though it sounds mean with no context outside the joke?
Plus, I kinda like that this neighborhood have foils and imperfections in their personalities that can coincide with their friendship! For example, Sally can come off as full of herself and seems to look down on the "little people" like the way she calls Eddie a simple "Mailman" like she's ringing up a butler! Barnaby is LOUD and tends to interrupt. Naturally, he's used to speaking like this as he's an entertainer! And howdy is majorly implied to be a fast talking liar, all for simply making you buy more stuff! Frank is about as sassy as we all expected, so I don't mind him being a little rude.
You can be rude, vain, loud or sassy and still manage to be a good friend! Our differences is what makes us human, and that's what Clown and the VA team did a good job of! Making these puppets seem more human than fictional!
As for the neighbors suddenly changing their tone when they remember Wally is with them, I imagine it's more of a "whoops! we got so involved in our conversation, we kinda left Wally hanging! Sorry we left you out!" kinda way. Like.. the few audios came across as more genuine asking a question, or making sure to involve Wally in the situation since to their knowledge, Wally is sitting on the sidelines, looking kinda forlorn. It's why we're in Wally POV until the audio cuts off as soon as he hears his name. It just kinda snaps him out of that trance. They all genuinely love Wally so much!!!
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next // previous
august 16, 2021
11:00 p.m.
grandma ong's house
there’s a strangeness to a quiet enclave in a bustling metropolis, unexpected in the same manner as grant and henry’s long, unbroken brotherhood. nothing about the baseline rustle of neighbors carrying in paper grocery sacks and kids kicking a soccer ball resembles the eternal merry-go-round of life–max-capacity subway cars, clueless and loud tourists, and locals who drift through their day–just down the road. and yet above this neighborhood–and the entire sprawling city–hangs a common thread, a bluish hazy night sky.
“that was wild,” henry says, suppressed laughter bursting forth from deep in his chest, “all day everyone’s defaulted to speaking english because, well, look at you, and you even had me fooled. i actually forgot you kind of speak basic korean."
“the inner machinations of my mind are an enigma.”
henry rolls his eyes dramatically but in the same split second, throws an arm around grant’s shoulders.
“i was afraid that soup was going to fly out of your mouth.” grant returns the gesture, though it requires him to lean down so as to not smother henry’s face instead. “too close for comfort.”
“well, in my defense, i was not expecting you to reply to my grandma asking me, “daehyun, i haven’t seen your friend since your wedding. how did you meet again?”
grant shrugs. “we met on a playground twenty-four years ago.”
“on my very first weekend as a resident of the semi-good ol’ US of A. in the opposite situation. i remember being so pissed that my parents made me go out to ‘make friends’ that weekend. not moving, mind you, but making friends. i guess they were psychics, though, because apparently, it didn’t bother you that i didn’t speak your language for at least a couple weeks.”
“people say i could talk to a wall.”
henry laughs again. “you could. you’re very chatty.”
“did it bother you that i wrote you some really, really, really shitty letters in korean in the early days based on online translations i found?”
“no, that was sweet.” no question about it–the joy in henry’s eyes is determined. “they were definitely horrendous, but it’s the thought that counted. you could do better now. oh, and i think i still have all those letters. i should. i did box them up when i moved out of my parents’ house.”
they were, all things considered, never very much alike, beyond the fact they both liked cats but weren’t allowed to have any. henry’s mom was allergic, but grant’s parents despised pets. otherwise, they were polar opposites. grant always liked math and science, wanted to work with airplanes, and preferred to spend his free time with others playing tabletop RPGs and computer games; henry always liked art and history, wanted to be a photographer, and preferred to be left alone to his vintage film camera and pottery. grant’s parents raged when he selected aviation over medicine; henry’s parents and grandparents, all artists, were delighted by his dreams of photography. moreover, grant selectively speaks his mind, while henry rarely minces words.
and still–
the shrill honk of a car off in the distance disturbs grant’s thoughts.
“you really could talk to a wall, but hey, why did you approach me on the swing set that day? you were already busy hanging out with your sisters. and your cousins. why me?”
and still, the two have fused into one. the world turned upside down; grant paints these days, henry has long been a willing dungeons and dragons player, and separation from one another is like losing half your body. if henry walked away now–ended this messy half-hug early–grant would turn to ash.
“well,” grant begins, drawing out the suspense with an exaggerated sigh, “first of all...”
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