#but I cannot help wishing I was more Mexican

[bookwyrminspiration]

startin off 2023 with a family death let’s go

[yougavemeyourheartyouknow]

Love me or hate me, both are in my favor. (Miguel O’Hara x Fem! Reader [HS Academic rivals AU])

Babe wake up, new series just dropped! This is not proofread btw

(Y/N)-Your name.

Cursing, Miguel being jealous? (If you squint), i am mexican but my Spanish sucks so apologies I’m advance, Phantom of the Opera spoilers (???? Through I’d throw it out there)

Word count: 3k

Series Masterlist Series playlist

Chapter 1:The world was on fire

—

“Love me or hate me, Both are in my favor. If you love me, I’ll always be in your heart. If you hate me, I’ll always be in your mind.”

The quote was etched into the front of your red hardcover notebook, with gold details covering the edges of the front. The black ink was oddly neat despite how deep you had to indent the words over and over on the cover. Miguel has noticed that you would always write a beautifully tragic quote on the front of all your English notebooks every year.

Last year, the quote was, “Love is blind, and lovers cannot see.”

For sophomore year, “She could have been a poet or she could have been a fool.”

And for freshman year it was, “‘I miss her.’ ‘You’re dead.’ ‘Even in death, I mourn her.’”

The first time Miguel saw it was when you both were in the 7th grade, being paired up to write a report about some random novel that Miguel couldn’t remember the name of. You had pulled out your notebook, that year it was a dark forest green, with the quote being, “But just because I’m not going to wish for it doesn't mean the moth can ignore the flame. It’s in the moth's blood.”

Miguel’s dark maroon eyes rolled to the back of his head, it was almost pretentious he thought, a way to show off how “artsy” you are. He allowed a scoff to escape his plump lips, you simply ignored him as you began to flip through your notes.

You were much more into history, the arts and most of all, Literature, while Miguel was more into science and math. Miguel didn’t understand why you loved it so much, he didn’t think your favorite subjects were nearly as important as his. Who cares what some dead poet wrote a thousand years ago, when he could be the next to make a big scientific discovery? Like time travel or curing cancer. Sure, Miguel still did the work in english and history, and for someone who didn't care for it, he would always do so well, and that drove you up the wall, but Miguel could say the same about you with math and science. Miguel would always tune you out when you would ramble on about some new book you were reading to your friends, or would ignore the way your eyebrow would furrow together and your teeth would bite down on your lips when you’d get to a particularly good spot in your novel, stopping every once and a while to annotate, would scoff at the the way your eyes would stare at piece of art with such fascination and wonder when the class would go to a field trip to an art museum, groan at how’d you always talk about the beauty of old gothic architecture, talking about how the beauty of the buildings was almost tragic.

The key word, would.

As you two grew older, and your competitiveness in your grades became more intense, Miguel couldn’t help but start to wonder what goes through that pretty little head of yours. He wanted to see how the deep corners of your mind worked. What made your brain tick, maybe if he saw the world through your perspective, he would understand you more.

Your manicured hand grabbed your notebook by the bloody red spine, gently gripping it before placing it into your bag, and zipping it up. Slinging it over your shoulder as you turn to talk to your friend who sat next to you, before you both made your way out of the AP English classroom.

You and Miguel had been attending the same classes since you transferred in the 6th grade, both of you attend one of Nueva York’s most prestigious and high-end boarding schools. At first, Miguel didn’t pay you any mind, figured you were just another spoiled brat with daddy’s money, and a trust fund big enough to last you until you find some poor unsuspecting fool to ask for your hand and make you into a trophy wife, like most of the girls who attend the school. But it wasn’t until you had beat his score later that year on the mid-year school wide testing did you get his attention. He could remember it like it was yesterday, he was sitting in class with a near perfect score of 97% written on top of his test answer sheet, a self-satisfied smirk on his face as he slid the paper over to his left where Peter Parker had sat.

“I swear man, you’re like, a genius.” Peter grumbled to Miguel as he glanced at his friend’s paper, before at his own which had 78% written at the top. Peter’s hand went up to pat Miguel on the back, but before Miguel could reply, just bearly in earshot, he had heard an unfamiliar voice speak.

“Yeah I got a 99, I wasn’t expecting…” Miguel didn’t catch the rest, but the first part was enough for his whole body to feel hot all over, and make his stomach twist in discomfort. He felt like he was about to go into a state of shock, or rather he was already entering one. He’s never had someone top before, if felt like he was dreaming, well, maybe having a nightmare was a better way to describe it. He couldn’t remember how long he had sat at his desk afterwards, in a weird state of disassociation until Peter had pulled him back to reality. He swore to himself, after that moment he’d never let you top him again.

But that was a hard promise to keep. Because whether he'd like to admit it or not, you were good, always keeping him on his toes. You were almost like a breath of fresh air for him, albeit a painful one, like the first shallow breath after almost drowning. Before you , Miguel was growing content, growing bored, no other student was anywhere close to his GPA, even the second best at the time, he felt simply untouchable, but then you came along, and you changed everything for him.

At first, he saw you more as a pest, an annoying little fly that kept buzzing around no matter how many times he had tried to swat you away. Upon your first time formally meeting with Miguel, you were polite and civil, the kindest smile on your face as you stuck your hand out for him to shake as you introduced yourself to him. Miguel just glanced at your hand with a sour, unamused expression on his face, before his eyes wandered back up to your face and he just let out a noise that was a mix between a grunt and a scoff before turning and walking away, leaving you confused and a little bit hurt from his unfriendly and quite frankly rude actions, you decided to just brush it off, maybe he was having a bad day and wasn’t in a good mood. So a few days later you tried to approached him again in hopes for a better interaction, only for those hopes to get squashed when he basically told you to fuck off, rolling his eyes and ignoring your presence once again as he walked past you, “accidentally” shouldering you in the process. You decided to stop trying to be nice to him after that.

For about the first year since you transferred, you and Miguel simply pretended the other didn’t exist, neither would approach or interact with the other unless absolutely necessary, the only constant reminders of each other's presence was when one would beat the other during tests, report cards, etc. Eventually the plain out ignoring shifted to fleeting glares and glances, eye rolls and snarky remarks muttered under both of your breaths, both of yours already rocky relationship with each other becoming more and more intense and open as you both got older, neither finding the energy to even attempt to tolerate the others presence anymore. So now you and him were stuck in this repetitive circle with each other, but neither of you were doing anything to stop it.

—

“I’ve already told you Gabe, I’m not going to give you my notes from last year. Read the book like everyone else.” Miguel sighed, stuffing his free hand in his pocket, his other hand holding onto his backpack strap, walking to the housing building across the campus of Nueva York’s Preparatory Academy, where he and his younger brother shared a room.

“But Miggy!” Gabriel whined, his lips coming out in a pout, and Miguel’s nose scrunched in annoyance at both the nickname and the high-pitch tone of his brother's whine. “What’s the point of me being brothers with one of the top students at this school if I can’t steal your notes! Besides, I've tried and I just can’t get into it. Who would have thought that Frankenstein would be such a boring book, and don’t get me started on how the paragraphs are set up!”

“And that’s my problem because?” Miguel’s eyebrow quirked up, sending Gabriel an unamused look.

“Look Miguel, you might not get it from my point of view, but it’s very difficult for me, being your brother. From an academic standpoint I mean. The teachers expect me to have the same intelligence as you. I'm not stupid, don’t get me wrong, I’m just not on the same playing field as you. Also, I don’t like reading.” Gabriel shrugged.

“And what makes you think that I do?” Miguel retorted with an eyeroll, opening the glass doors to the housing building for his brother before stepping in himself and shutting the door behind him.

“Well didn't you get an A+ on your report about the book last year?”

“No. I got an A-.” Miguel grumbled, and after a moment, Gabriel’s expression perked up a bit, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head.

“Oh riiight, that one girl got an A+, what was her name again?” Gabriel said in an almost teasing tone, before throwing out various names at Miguel that were similar to yours, obvious bait to see if his brother would bite, and he did.

“It’s (Y/N).” Miguel corrected with a hash glare.

“Oh, right, right.” Gabriel’s lips went up in a slight smirk, his hands going into his pockets to fish out the keys to their shared dorm room. “Maybe I can ask her to help me, I mean she’s a bookworm, right?”

Miguel didn’t answer the question, not completely sure if it was rhetorical or not, choosing to stay silent as they finally stopped in front of their room.

“I could ask for her notes, maybe take her out for some coffee as a thank you.” Miguel’s face scrunched with annoyance at the implication, his brother knew how much you two disliked each other, and a more sound part of his mind was telling himself that his little brother was just pulling at his leg, but that didn’t stop him from the draggers he glared at Gabriel.

“Don’t even think about it. Hasta la mira mal a esa niña, y estás muerto. ¿Entiendes?” Miguel hissed, his voice dropping an octave with the threat. (If you even look at that girl wrong, you’re dead. Got it?”)

Despite his older brother’s threats, Gabriel’s smirk only turned into a wide grin, before he put his hands up as I sigh of surrender, his keys dangling with the motion before he unlocked the door, and walked into the room, Miguel following closing the door behind him.

—

“I don't understand anything about this, (Y/N).” Your friend, Mary Jane, or MJ for short, groaned as you both sat down in one of the school's many libraries, school supplies sprawled on top of the mahogany desk. It was fairly empty, today, but you both took space in one of the empty study rooms to keep from making too much of a disruption from anyone else who might go in, the repeated sound of rapid tapping of MJ’s mechanical pencil hitting the desk as you catch her biting her bottom lip in frustration.

“I know.” You giggled with a small smile, putting your hand on her forearm in an attempt to comfort her. You both have been at it for about 3 hours now, your English teacher had assigned everyone to write a 2,000 word essay about the book being read in class Romeo and Juliet. You’ve already read and watched the play a million times so you knew the back of your hand.

“Like I understand that, they fall and love and die and stuff, but all the jokes and the symbolism and stuff-“

“That’s why I’m here, MJ.” You grinned at your friend, and she just scoffed at you with a friendly smile, a smile you returned, before getting up from your seat with a small stretch. “I’ll be right back, I'm going to go stretch my legs.” You told her, which only got you a hum in response, before you slipped out of the small room. No matter how much time you’ve spent in this specific library, (it’s your favorite one) you’ll never get tired of the earth and wood-like tones that filled your senses whenever you would enter in the building, the four old walls always filled you with such warmth, they were like a second home for you. You let out a deep content exhale as your black Mary Jane heels tapping quietly against the old wooden tiles of the library floor. Mindlessly wandering with no real destination in mind, but making sure you don’t stray too far from the study room, it wasn’t difficult to lose your sense of direction in the make-shift corridors made from old bookshelves. You turn a corner without thinking, a hand goes up , gently brushing the spines of the books as you continue walking. What genre section were you in?

Your steps came to a halt, taking a step closer to the shelf as you grabbed the book your hand was resting on. Your lips came up in a soft small smile as you read the title of the book in your hands.

The phantom of the opera.

Oh how you loved the story, you’ve watched both the movie renditions and the stage version countless times, but you’ve read the novel more than you’ve watched all three combined, but your copy sadly got ruined when you dropped it in a puddle of water while on a walk, and haven’t had the time to get a new copy. Was it bad that if you were in Christine’s shoes, you would have picked Erik over Raoul?

Your fingertips opened the door, flipping the pages until you landed on the page you were looking for.

Hardly breathing, he went up to the dressing-room and, with his ear to the door to catch her reply, prepared to knock. But his hand dropped. He had heard a man's voice in the dressing-room, saying, in a curiously masterful tone:

"Christine, you must love me!"

And Christine's voice, infinitely sad and trembling, as though accompanied by tears, replied:

"How can you talk like that? When I sing only for you!"

Raoul leaned against the panel to ease his pain.

His heart, which had seemed gone-

“Why am I not surprised I’d find you here?” The sudden words interrupted your reading. You didn’t need to lift your eyes to know the source of the voice, the slight accent and the deadpan tone gave it away.

“Hello to you too, O’Hara.” You replied, your eyes not lifting, your hand flipping to the next page despite no longer reading the words on the pages anymore, you weren’t going to give Miguel the satisfaction of knowing he had your attention. The act didn’t last very long though when his finger went up to lift the book up to read the cover, your gaze going up to finally look up at him, a bored expression on your face, a tsk leaving his mouth when he realized what you were reading.

“What?” You question him, wanting to know what that reaction meant, you closed the book and put it back on the shelf.

“Nothing.”

“Tell me.”

His lips come up to a smug smirk.

“That you find that shit romantic.” He stated like he knew it was a fact, and you’d rather die than admit to him that you did, in fact, find it romantic. “Don’t act like you don’t, I can read you like a book. No pun intended.”

Your face came to a scowl, instead of entertaining him with a response, you crossed your arms and slightly leaned against the bookshelf behind you.

“What are you even doing here Miguel? You don’t even like reading.” He didn’t entertain your question with a response either, rather he just shrugged, and took a step closer, his hand going up to rest against the self, his hand was right next to your head.

“Do me a favor?” He asked, but his tone came out more like it was a suggestion rather than a request.

“Why would I do that?” You scoffed.

“Don’t make me beg, muñeca.” His tone dropped an octave. Despite the pet name, his voice was filled with nothing but coldness. (Doll)

“Don’t give me ideas.” You teased. Your lips twitched up slightly.

“If my brother comes to you and asks to take you out, go ahead and say no.” That certainly wasn’t what you were expecting him to say, but you slowly nodded your head regardless, deciding to not ask what his brother said to him that would make him come up to you about that. His hand came back down to his side as he took a step back “Good. How’s the essay coming?”

The sudden topic change you off guard a bit, but you quickly recovered, since it was something you’d both been more used to talking about, your studies.

“I’m almost done, I’ve mostly been just helping MJ with hers.” You explained, as you stood up straight again. “You?”

“Same, if it weren’t for Peter I probably would already be finished with it.”

“Don’t stress about it too much, O’Hara.”

“Oh, why not?”

You smiled.

“Because I'm gonna get a better grade on my paper anyways.”

—

Taglist: @famouscattale @oharasfilipinawife @mxltifxnd0m @loser-alert @homewreckingwreck @dumb-gemini12

[pommunist]

Hello!

I've been nervously hovering around your blog as you've always been a level source of info.

As of late it seems as though many people don't seem to quite grasp how different US laws can be for POC. The laws weren't made with us in mind, in fact its extremely common for laws to be thrown at us or twisted against us at all fronts when the other effected party is Anglo.

It's very easy to look at laws and assume the country they preside over would respect them entirely. But for POC that's not the case. This place isn't safe for us. It's corrupt In many ways so it's extremely important for us to be extremely careful with every step. Or we are killed. There is no other way to express the type of danger we face simply for being POC.

I am Mexican, I know that it looks bad that Q has been very silent on many fronts. But speaking even an apology could lead to the entirety of this case being blamed on him. All of it. When the people who caused the damages were on the team and not Q himself. What's worse is that if the people who did cause the damage in the first place are Anglo and have gotten their own Lawyers... they can also be let off the hook from their crimes if Q makes apology statements.

I know its awful.

But even if he contacts those effected personally and apologized personally, there is nothing stopping those individuals from speaking online about his apologies and that being used against him. It would make everyone feel better if he genuinely could apologize without risk of letting those bad actors off the hook. But here in the states it's stacked against those who bend at the knee first. Kindness will get you killed. We as POC cannot exist here safely. We just can't.

Its very easy to look at this whole case from an outside view, especially if you've never faced the American legal system. It's even harder to fathom how a country could have laws so clearly lined and yet disregard them simply based on your race. But it's very common here. I've had relatives lose homes, land, businesses, livelihoods, and lives over the laws out here not being kind to us. All it takes is for one Anglo voice and we are once again reminded how we are nothing. Our hands built these buildings, our sweat is in nearly every structures walls and floors. We clean, we cook, we are still regarded as rabble. Our native tongue isn't even seen as something respectable. It's dirty. It recieves glares and snide remarks.

I digress.

I know you can't quite understand how strong your voice is alone in this. Even now I must hide under this anonymous guise because I can't be Mexican in public. I can't speak my truth... so I am reaching out to you, to perhaps held shed some light on all of this.

Your voice is worth more than mine.

Thank you for all the work that you do. Truly.

Hello anon ! First of all I wanna say I’m sorry that I’ll going to write such a short answer when your ask was long and heartfelt. But as I’m neither Mexican nor from the US I don’t have much to add to what you just said. Though I am aware, at least to a certain extent how bad the xenophobia against mexicans can be over there, and I don’t wish for Quackity or anyone else to suffers the consequences of it.

Also don’t even worry about coming here as an anon, I don’t mind and your safety comes first anyway. My voice isn’t worth any more than yours is, I’m just glad if I can help share your thoughts on this situation.

[explosionshark]

the kennedy defender has logged on btw.

she's a GOOD character, okay? she's a little spoiled and sometimes doesn't read the room. kind of arrogant and maybe prone to a power trip here and there. so?

she's also STUPID brave, which i love. even as an unpowered potential she is willing (and 9 times out of 10 the absolute first) to throw herself headlong into danger at the first opportunity. even in episodes like showtime, when buffy is struggling in a fight, kennedy's first instinct is to leap in and help. she might be a little bossy with some of the other girls, but she DOES try to to protect them every single time there's a fight and they clearly like her - when kennedy is hurt or in danger, the other girls respond.

chloe's suicide is absolutely not kennedy's fault - if the show really wanted you to think that was the case, they would have made more of a point of it. even buffy, who is a pretty frequent target of kennedy's criticism, assures her that it wasn't her harsh words during training that lead to chloe's death - it was the fact that she was scared and vulnerable and the First (the thing that is really, really good at making people kill themselves) was whispering in her ear alll night about how cool it would be to die.

kennedy's a bit harsh with buffy but to be fair none of the potentials were really feeling great about buffy's leadership at the point in the season where we had the most conflict. and from there perspective, it's actually pretty sympathetic. they were scared to fight, didn't feel ready, buffy had been harsh with them to toughen them up and then a bunch of their friends were brutally slaughtered or maimed in front of them while buffy got her ass handed to her and they were all promised more of the same. a bit of discontent, a bit of panic, a bit of mutiny - not unexpected! (not looking to litigate though, it was dumb conflict tbf)

she was good to willow! a little forward, but she never pushed willow into anything she didn't want to do. even after willow turned into warren post-kiss, kennedy didn't freak out and abandon her. she stuck with her through a lot of freaky magic shit and emotionally volatility and looked down the barrel of a GUN for her - AS DOWN BAD AS IT'S HUMANLY POSSIBLE TO BE. even after getting a little freaked out with the magical draining that happened later, she got over it pretty quickly. she's patient and understanding when willow has reservations about sleeping together for the first time, gives the cute little kite string speech (if you can't learn to adopt willow's metaphors during conversation, you don't deserve her).

genuinely i think she's a good character. i wish there had been more room in the season to characterize her more gradually, but for the amount of hate i've seen her get over the years, i just don't think she's that bad.

also she has a tongue stud and who could hate that.

ALSO being a teenage mexican-american lesbian and seeing bisexual mexican-american actress iyari limon on screen licking alyson hannigan's neck with that very tongue stud TRULY unlocked things for me that nothing else could have. cannot stress that enough.

[batfoonery]

I’m sad tonight so have a stupid little headcannon of mine about how I think Damian grows up

Firstly, he cannot grow up this is Illegal that’s my spunky little guy!

But if he must (and I suppose he must)

Personally I don’t agree with DC’s tendency to make him Big n Bulky like Bruce.

Assuming Talia really did handpick certain traits, she probably would have leaned towards traits better for being an assassin. Like a more slender frame. Probably not as slender as Tim. If we chart it with Bruce n Jay being the Bulkiest and Tim being the most slim (but still very strong!) and Dick as the midpoint (aerodynamic but wider chest + shoulders) then I’d put him between Jay and Dick, but certainly a bit closer to the latter than the former.

I also am of the opinion that he’s the second most springy (flexible) after Dick.

So, I know with ballerinas the reason they have to start young is bc they have to start forming the flexible pathways (I’m not wording that right but the actual term eludes me rn) bc when you reach adolescence your joints start hardening into their final full adult spots and pathways. I’m assuming that the same applies to gymnasts.

Damian would’ve been a prime age for this development of sproingy joints. Tim and Jay were already teens, so although they have the ability to be damned good acrobats, they can’t develop the same range of motion that D & d have.

And yes, this would require developing the motions. But Damian likely already had learned techniques that required a particular level of flexibility in the LoA, and then when Dick was Batman (and in charge of training) I think he would have leaned towards more acrobatic skills. Both bc it’s useful and bc he needed a way to wear the kid out so he’d stop trying to escape and maybe take a nap for once. Getting bouncy kids (well. Not bouncy, but certainly Energized) to settle down by wearing them out by tricking them into doing cross wheels across the lawn is a classic older-sibling-stuck-babysitting tactic.

Overall this means his muscle tone would probably build in a way similar to Dick as well. Not totally the same! Part of our ability to build muscle is genetic—some of us are better at putting it in certain places than others

So where Dick’s generalized shape is like an upside-down triangle (or, if the artist is choosing to be particularly annoying about the poor guy’s rear then an unfortunate wasp figure—please that poor man’s back…. Shapely but reasonable is that really too much to ask for?) I think Damian’s thighs will be Thick like Bruce’s, making him somewhat of an hourglass (ass not as defined as Dick’s though) although the narrowest part of his waist will still only be slightly curved in (so not as severe as the description ‘hourglass’ typically invokes).

Height? No clue. Smaller than Bruce but not by much I’m guessing. Tall but not too tall and somewhat slender would probably help with assassin-ing in Talia’s eyes.

Although personally I think it would be really funny if he was second smallest (Tim reigning shorty supreme of course).

Features? No clue! Honestly kids can inherit so many potential features, who knows! I like when artists give him darker skin and Talia’s nose. But I’m biased bc I wish my skin was darker (I’m half Mexican half white and wow the pale is Blinding so unfortunately I am aware just how pale mixed children can be) and Talia is like. The hottest person in DC for me. I also like the green eyes bc it makes sense for him to have been exposed to the Lazarus pit, although I’m open to them having been a different color at birth for Angst purposes.

I just think there’s so many recessive traits that could pop up as he gets older. Or maybe he starts out being Bruce’s mini-me and then magically shifts into Talia’s boy. But I like the thought of him having something unexpected like one singular dimple on his left cheek—inherited from Martha and the Kane lineage but skipped Bruce (however Kate has the same dimple). Or maybe the droop of his eyelids recalls memories of Talia’s mother (not that Ra’s ever shared this info other than maybe once in passing when he first saw the baby).

That’s it that’s all! Agree, don’t agree, I don’t really mind either way. I just think it’s fun to think about sometimes.

[gaeapplehairline]

Sometimes the way people react to things confuses the hell out of me. My older brother really likes Percy Jackson so I asked if he's gonna watch the show. His response was "Oh yeah definitely, I just hope they don't mess it up". Which it fair, the hope is that it's much more book accurate than the movies. So I mentioned that Riordan actually has a say in this one so it should be good. His response? "No I mean i hope they don't make it woke look"..... what?

I'm so confused about how a guy who read all the way through the first 2 olympian series can say that they don't want the show "woke". He didn't stop and explained his stance. He didn't want any race change or ETHNIC EYE COLOUR CHANGE??? I explained that the books are by his standards VERY WOKE. He still took his stance. I'm not sure if I read a different series than him or something but the books are by no sense, not woke.

The conversation moved on and it got asked which book Nico came in. My brother talked about how he liked Nico and thought he was quote " a G" Well my brothers friend said that no he's not cause he read the back of a book and found out Nico was gay. Why would you change your entire thought process on a character simply for a random detail. If Nico was straight nothing would be said.

My point is, if you like a series, an author, or a character. Why be mad when they aren't exactly how you wish they were. Sexuality, race, and gender are not inserted for "unnecessary" diversity. "It doesn't add to the plot" Neither does being straight. The books you love and grew up on are getting a more accurate tv show, likely giving a new generation the experience you had, and your first thought was, "don't make the side character Mexican". Why? Why can't content just be made to enjoy? Why can't you acknowledge that the thing you love doesn't fit into your box of acceptable. Rick Riordan wrote to help kids feel seen. You felt seen, why can't others? Riordan had his vision and if you don't like it fine, but you cannot deny that MANY do. A jester is useless to the king if he's not speaking the word of the masses.

[watashime-ciel]

my personal Rhythm Heaven headcanons

•at the moment i started typing this i had no electricity (12/4/2023 15:29) but ok lol

-DJ Yellow is very good at practically all subjects at school, except for math. he sleeps most of the year, so he has to intensify his grades in 2 weeks before the school year ends, and math is a pain. so while he studies, he asks Blue for help with "Whatever an ecuation is..." (still learning stuff from high school because he never intensified his math grades that much)

-J.J and Cecil live together in an apartment in Tokyo, while DJ Yellow and Blue live together in another apartment somewhere 40 minutes away from Tokyo. this makes both DJs wake up earlier to catch the train to get to school, which is a hard task for Yellow. this man either goes to sleep at 6am or doesn't sleeps at all. how do you want him to be at the train station at 6:10am to catch the train, travel for 40 minutes, get to Tokyo at 6:50am and walk to school to get there at 7:15am? think again mister, that's not a possible action on this dude. better wait until the update comes. /lh

-DJ Yellow dresses up with whatever he wants. this includes skirts, dresses, all kinds of feminine clothes. because why not? it's his gender expression, let him be, brother. don't be surprised if he shows up at a convention dressed up as Rui Kamishiro and in day 2 he is cosplaying Hatsune Miku NT. while he's happy then it's okay, isn't it?

-important headcanon: the school everyone in Rhythm Heaven +my RH ocs go to is an all-in-one school. from primary school to college, university, everything. so yeah, they're technically adults, young adults, that even if they have a job they go to school to learn basics such as math, history, etc, BUT with rhythm. there's an interesting story about this school that is located in, SURPRISE, Tokyo (not really. all fictional), but today is not the day or time to talk about it (my 4g data is limited and so is my battery- plz electricity come back quick)

-DJ Yellow's favourite music artists, groups and bands are: More!More!Jump!, Wonderlands x Showtime, Steampianist, Hello, Happy World!; RAISE A SUILEN, Raychell, Skrillex, Mitchie M, Pastel*Palettes, Nightcord at 25:00, MARETU, DECO*27, Eve, Vivid BAD Squad, Alan Walker, all of the D4DJ groups but specially Happy Around!, all of the Heathers Musical songs, Kawaii Sprite, GHOST And Pals, Banshee, RudyWade, Goreshit and, most importantly, an 80% of remixes of the Monster song (you look up Monster remix and you tell me when you know what i'm talking about)

-Blue's favourites: Cuarteto de Nos, GHOST And Pals, Daisuke-P, Omoi, Kikuo, Jakeneutron, KairikiBear, Roselia, Steampianist, Nayutailen, TOPHAMHAT-KYO, Lemon Demon, FAKE TYPE., girl in red and The Living Tombstone

-J.J and Cecil have similar taste in music, such as last note., wowaka, Wind Rose, Lemon Demon, Afterglow, Roselia, Leo/Need, The GazettE, GOLDEN BOMBER, HACHI... but Cecil is a bit different on his playlists, since he has Bluey music added such as Keepy Uppy and Lollipop Yum Yum Yum, and maybe some Imagination Movers music

-everyone speaks japanese and english, buuuuuut: Yellow speaks spanish (Spanish, Mexican, Colombian, neutral, Chilenian and Argentine accent), he's learning French and is interested in Hawaiian. Blue speaks Indonesian more fluently than Japanese or English, since he was born and raised his first 7 years of life in Indonesia. J.J speaks Italian, which is his 'original' language (?). and Cecil knows a bit of French and Hawaiian. super convenient for Yellow, but he's not talking with "one of those guys". yeaaaah the Rockers vs DJs conflict has been going on for a while now

thats all i can share as for now. i really wish my electricity comes back soon, i cannot live with 4g and less than 80% of battery for a week. remember all of these are headcanons and theres NO NEED to attack or negatively criticize them if you don't like em. tenkius :P

[the-girl-with-the-glass-heart]

This new horror movie is taking hollywood by storm!

Eduardo was released in theaters in the United States on april 1st, 2023, by ASDFmovie studios. The film grossed over $9 million and received positive reviews from critics who lauded Baker's performance, Gould's direction, and its homages to the films of the Golden Age of Hollywood—particularly The Wizard of Oz (1939)[5] and Mary Poppins (1964).

plot synopsis:

In 1918 during the influenza pandemic, Eduardo is a 20 something year old man living with his mexican immigrant parents on their english homestead while his new wife, Laurel, serves in World War I as a nurse. Eduardo's mother is infirm and paralyzed, and his domineering father insists that he can't be drafted due to agricultural service he should help care for her instead. Eduardo, longing for a more exciting life, spends much of his free time either painting or at the cinema, much to his father's disapproval. However, Eduardo also shows signs of being a disturbed individual, killing small animals and physically abusing his mother when they're alone.

Later at the movie theater, Eduardo meets a young projectionist named Mark who takes a liking to him.

Laurel's wealthy childhood friend, Edd, visits Eduardo, having bought his way out being drafted and hoping to befriend Eduardo. He then tells him of an art contest being held to find the next big artistic genius and the winner will be given their very own art exhibit in london, which Eduardo envisions as a way out of his circumstance. he later sneaks out of the house at night and visits Mark, who shows him a dirty film he acquired in France. He encourages Eduardo to pursue his dreams. Eduardo comments that he cannot abandon his family, and that he wishes "they would just die." scaring Mark.

Eduardo and his father get into a physical altercation over dinner, during which Eduardo shoves his father against the kitchen hearth, resulting in his father suffering life-threatening burns. Eduardo drags him into the basement and leaves his mother seated in the kitchen. He flees to the movie theater, where he gets drunk with Mark.

In the morning, the Mark drives Eduardo back to the farm so he can prepare for the contest, He is perturbed by a now rotten roasted pig Edd left the day prior, as well as his delusional behavior. When he attempts to leave, Eduardo flies into a fit of rage at his abandonment of him, and stabs him to death with a pitchfork before pushing his car—with his corpse in it—into a pond, where an alligator he has nicknamed Ringo eats his remains. Eduardo dresses himself in one of his fathers best suits, and dresses up his mother before smothering her to death, reassuring her that she is loved.

Eduardo arrives at the contest and he presents a few of his finest paintings that he feels will win over the judges, but is devastated when he is rejected for being a minority. Edd accompanies him home in an attempt to console him. In the kitchen, Eduardo makes a lengthy confession to Edd, picturing him as Laurel. He says he hates her so much he just wants her to drop dead.He admitts he only married her cause she had money and he thought she would be his way out but Laurel found his farm life charming and wanted to stay. He asks Edd how Laurel could be so cruel and selfish, insisting she must of known how much he hated his life. He even specifically hid his more psychopathic tendencies so as not to scare her away. Through sobs he pleads that he just wants to feel loved but he can't because something's broken in him, something that makes him want to hurt animals and people. He demands to know what he did to deserve so much pain while people like Edd and Laurel are perfect. All he wants is to break the cycle and get out but he realizes he is not funny, talented, smart, handsome or even a good person. He isn't meant to be happy. Edd is horrified but Eduardo manages to manipulate him into confessing he won the contest and even says Eduardo  deserved it instead. Seething with jealousy, Eduardo chases him down the driveway and kills him with an axe.

Eduardo dismembers Edd's body and feeds his corpse to Ringo, before going into the basement and finally putting his father out of his misery. Concluding that his father was correct and that Eduardo should "make the best of what he has", he decides to remediate his wrongdoings by creating a comfortable home for Laurel when she returns from the war. The next morning, Laurel arrives unexpectedly. In the kitchen, she is horrified to find the bodies of his parents seated at the dining table around the rotting pig. Eduardo greets him with a protracted, pained smile, tears rolling down his face.

[fendimariexo]

I need someone who will straighten me out, lead me and tell me what to do…. right now, the only thing that matters to me is making homemade bread, ice cream, and cooking for my dog. making everything homemade and from scratch and making sure I have whole ingredients… finding out medicinal herbs and medicine, making sure I live past 100 and keep my uterus when I die, maintain my fertility longer than most…. reading books… painting, drawing…. literally nothing else matters to me at all and everything seems so trivial. my plants matter to me but as for a job sitting at a desk staring at my screen all day, I will literally self sabatoge myself again because i’m not made for that. I cannot pretend to like assholes in the office and I am tired of asking for approvals from people who aren’t that bright.

my brain and my subconscious mind will not have it. I can’t keep forcing it and I know it for sure now. I always knew a little growing up that i’m not meant for the 9-6, but I know 100% now I can’t do it. I just want a green house. if I start working again, i’ll be clinically diagnosed with hysteria and i’ll probably have to get a lobotomy…. Lord knows i’m not made for it either. all the vocal fry and zoom meetings…. all the people who take their job so seriously and have bad vibes…. all the managers who reject all my ideas and decisions…. the jealousy and unnecessary attitude. giving ten hours a day to go to and from work… being away from my dog and my plants…. I know some people thrive in that environment and I used to be able to do it…. but it’s not my path and I can’t keeep forcing it. I feel like I am losing myself everytime and I literally don’t know what to do…. I wish someone would help me because I know applying for another desk job is not my path…. I can’t work somewhere that is a beginner job because I have already tried that and I am over qualified… no one wants me there. I’d rather be a gardener than try and climb the corporate ladder again. but the gardening in LA is monopolized by the mexicans and illegals. I know I can’t keep up this charade but I don’t know what to do…. I could try and go live on TikTok but everytime I do they just want me to wear heals and twirl…. fun and all but I feel even MORE dumb…. I could freelance as a shopify store creator at be an assistant again but then i’m staring at a screen all day again. nothing makes sense right now. I wish someone would help me.

yes i’m praying about it and all but sometimes it is still scary. my life has broken into a million pieces more than once and I just want to avoid that again. I just wish someone would help me stop feeling so crazy about work and everything. it’s so stressful and i’m telling you right now, my body and my subconscious mind will not let me do it anymore. I need help. #sos

[cherienymphe]

For the anon that wants to move out, I️ would suggest waitressing, working in restaurants. The tips add up really fast and if you work at a really popular restaurant or a chain like Friday’s or Applebee’s, the weekends you could make a lot in tips. But it does require you to get out of your shell and talk to people. I️ mean, all customer service industry jobs do. But if you want that money mama, unfortunately you’re gonna have to get over it (don’t mean that in a rude way). McDonald’s pays $13 an hour, sure, but you would make a lot more working at a Mexican restaurant on Taco Tuesday for example. If you want something, you gotta be motivated to get it. Otherwise you’re gonna be stuck just wishing wishing wishing things could be different. You’re 18 now mama, you cant keep using your past as an excuse. Is it a reason? Yes. Do jobs care? They don’t. And it sucks but it’s true. Only YOU can decide whether or not you want out and decide how badly you want out.

I️ have a friend in a similar situation, and if I️ didn’t push her to move out of her state to a new one for a job opportunity, we would not be friends right now because she was victimizing herself and engaging in loser behavior like smoking weed and dating shitty guys. She was 18/19. Now she’s 21 going on 22 and she’s worked hard for a year and a half to change inside and out. She cut her parents off for a while (because they too, were abusive), focused on working and saving, stopped smoking weed, and journals her emotions out. She’s now about to get her own job, her own apartment and has matured immensely since she’s moved down here. Yeah I️ pushed her but I️ also cannot make someone do what they don’t wanna do. She ultimately decided that to do better she has to WANT better. And she did that. And I’m saying you can too. Hope this helps bby, you got this!

Yeah anon only just turned 18 in September so it's not like she doesn't have room to make mistakes or hesitate a little but she's made it clear she wants to get out asap and in that position, a job is a job. It would be different if she had a better support system at home (because truthfully I didn't get my first job until the week I turned 19 after I decided I wanted my own money) but she's made it clear how badly she wants to be on her own and support herself out from under someone else's thumb

[transman-badass]

Well, here we go. This isn't a formal WIP introduction, just an overview of what me and @pocketinferno have been messing with.

YA sci-fi/mythology

In a cyberpunk-ish Mexico City, some indeterminate years ahead of our time, there are two people, either friends or a brother and sister. The girl, 17yo Jill, is brilliant with machines of all kinds, and compassionate to a fault. Her eyes are trained on the future and improving the world she loves. The boy, 19yo Ghost, a transman desperate to prove himself, has become a bounty hunter against his family's wishes. His eyes are set on the past, the knowledge and wisdom that's been almost forgotten in the present day.

Their strengths become their weaknesses.

Jill's compassion leads to her kidnapping by strangers. Taken before their leader, her fate is sealed by one of her surnames: Cortez. Told she will be sacrificed to the gods in the morning, it will take all Jill's courage and cunning to escape. When compassion fails, and her skills cannot save her, what else is left?

Ghost's first client asks him to track down the man who assaulted her. On the hunt, he discovers a mysterious feathered snake that he suspects escaped from a lab. But his focus on the past has left him blind to the reality of the present. What will get the job done in the end: his training, or his heart?

Neither can imagine the depths of what they've been pulled into. Humanity is a failure in the eyes of the gods. With Huitzilopochtli still missing, Tezcatlipoca has chosen conquest, and Quetzalcoatl has chosen humanity. A war between ancient rivals stirs again...

-

obviously a story, much less a trilogy, like this will take a lot, a lot, of research and planning. Reading and discussion and talking to people. Drew is Mexican and I'm American, so we'll have a good amount of options to go through in both English and Spanish.

part of the purpose of this is to introduce more people to Aztec (Mexica) mythology. The Mexica and their mythology is far more fascinating and intricate than just "ooooh, scary human sacrifice". (Drew is regularly shocked by how obscure Aztec mythology is to Americans.)

we're wanting to have a list of organizations in the book so people can donate to help indigenous peoples, women and other groups in Mexico. If you know of any trustworthy organizations or groups, please send me an ask and I'll make a note of them.

We would love to hear from other Mexicans, indigenous peoples, and those familiar with the Aztecs/Mexica and their mythology, along with anyone that's interested in this idea. Even if you're critical of us or this idea, we want to hear what you think. Just please don't bite our heads off if you dislike this idea 😅 we're doing this in good faith and trying to be respectful.

This is not really a priority for either of us. Drew is in university and I've got another WIP (or two, or ten...) that I'm trying to focus on. I mean I can make it a priority but I don't see a reason to do so rn.

Well, that's the idea. Without any spoilers at least. What do you think?

[troglobite]

lasdfjlaksdfj

occasionally something will remind me of the Bloodlust that lurks beneath by weak pathetic surface

this cr/ator cl/sh 2 thing i suddenly cared abt bc i knew a few ppl in it and parts of it kinda kicked ass

now here i am

having spent a few days just like

"...what would it take for me to train to that level and be able to fight like that. what would it take."

my conclusion:

at least a year and a half with a physical therapist, a dr, and then ALSO a trainer--and likely a nutritionist who specializes in The Things That Are Wrong With Me in a NON-FATPHOBIC WAY

and i would have to have some kind of securing around my ribs and EVERY SINGLE JOINT taped up to protect against subluxes.

bc i gotta be honest, i miss being A Threat.

i was never in shape able to actually beat someone up

but i could throw a fucking punch correctly and with power.

i did cardio kickboxing and i could go an hour and be MORE energized. I MISS IT.

various things i would LOVE to do:

be a group exercise instructor

be a burlesque performer

play rugby

learn actual kickboxing or tae kwon do

things that i really shouldn't do, considering the hEDS:

everything i just listed above. except maybe the first two i could find some wiggle room.

but for real i just.

my therapist uncovered that i LOVE performance and all things associated. it makes me feel ALIVE.

the thing that i have uncovered is this:

i am a generally angry person. i get angry for ppl. for myself. i get annoyed at things. i complain a lot.

and i think it's bc.

i have a bloodlust, but i'm genuinely very kind and afraid of hurting ppl, so i need permission, consent, and guidelines/rules so that it's all above board.

but the problem is.

i have been so severely fucking nerfed

that my body is incapable of releasing that BLOODLUST.

i'm literally like if you took godzilla and shrunk it into a 20-year-old chihuahua.

I MUST DESTROY

but i am tiny bork and it's croaky bc i'm old and wobbly :(

and my mom suggested i should do violent video games and i was like NO. YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND. i need the physical sensation and ADRENALINE AND MUSCLE PUMPING POWER of doing something IN REAL LIFE. video games take away ALL of the pleasure and physical fulfillment and leave ONLY the SCARY ADRENALINE AND STRESS. they do not help!!! I MUST CRUSH!

plus! the whole performance thing i think is part of it! i don't wanna play a game by myself! i want someone or something in the world to be MATERIALLY AFFECTED BY MY ACTIONS. IN A COOL WAY. VIOLENCE!!!!!

it's absolutely bullshit and i feel like i live every day of my life wanting to do incredible ridiculous feats of physical prowess

i want to see how hard i can punch someone

i want to see how hard i can KICK someone

i wanna see how hard i can stand GETTING hit (with practice and skill)

how hard can i fall and still get back up to kick someone's ass?

i want to know what that feels like

but i am nearing 30 and freshly chronically ill and disabled, so it's basically. not in the cards.

and i am.

kind of really sad abt that.

it's frustrating bc like--

i mean i did gymnastics for a while as a kid.

the problem is that my inner ear/vestibular sense is VERY easily fucked up. i cannot do things where my body has to do flips.

but kicking and punching and dodging? even tackling? oh baby THAT i can do.

as long as my head stays oriented in the Normal Upright Position for the majority of the Situation, and i don't have to spin around 100 times in a row (i love you figure skating, but i would literally explode), i'm golden.

and so i stare wistfully from my bed

the same bed where

after laying on my side for abt an hour

i stood up and immediately subluxed a rip and cramped a muscle

that two weeks later is still not quite back to normal

and i just think abt how incredible it would feel to be a short fat half mexican genderqueer lesbian

and just.

kick some motherfuckers' asses

my god i wish. i WANT.

I WANT DESPERATELY.

i am LITERALLY the meme "i crave violence, mother"

I DO.

I CRAVE IT.

AND I TALKED TO MY MOM ABT IT TONIGHT!!!

someone pls help me i want to commit legal and consensual acts of aggression and violence but my body is falling apart please help me solve the issue

206 bones that don't like staying in place

100% fucked up collagen that doesn't wanna grow or work right

1 immune system that says AHHHHHHHHHH 24/7

1 billion(? unclear) mast cells that also go AHHHHHHHHH 24/7

100% muscles that want to commit acts of violence

can someone who is an expert please tell me where i went wrong i would like to punch someone

also to wrap this up i'm going to emphasize something that may have gotten buried:

i crave physical aggression and manual labor and violence

but only within: set boundaries, in situations where we're actually all safe, and we've all consented and given permission to go nuts, but within the given guidelines and expectations, and nothing more.

i mean even the simplest thing

i think it would be really fun to be a landscaper

HOWEVER

allergies and mcas

phobias

hEDS

autism and sensory processing disorder (bad textures and sounds)

PLEASE LET ME HAVE FUN!!!

NOWADAYS THE MOST ENJOYMENT I GET IS LIFTING HEAVY PACKAGES OR THE FULL BOTTLE OF LAUNDRY DETERGENT!!!!

SOMEONE LET ME FIGHT!!!!!!!

[sfarticles]

Celebrate Cinco de Mayo with some tasty Mexican recipes

It is time for celebration …Cinco de Mayo is here. The day is a double celebration for me since it is also my birthday. When asked for my birth date throughout the year at the doctor’s office, pharmacy or wherever, Cinco de Mayo is quite often the topic of conversation.

The day celebrates Mexico’s victory over France at the Battle of Puebla on May 5, 1862. The day is sometimes thought as being Mexico’s Independence Day, which it is not. Mexico’s independence from Spain is celebrated on Sept. 16.

What I find interesting is that it is believed the day is celebrated with more gusto here in the United States than in its native country, although it is a big celebration in Puebla. Here, it has become a celebration of Mexican heritage, culture and of course, food and drink; like how we recognize Irish culture on St. Patrick’s Day.

May 5 is a day on which many prepare Mexican-inspired fare for a party, and a batch of margaritas to wash it all down. This year, since it falls on a weekend, the celebration can start early! To help you make this year’s fiesta unique and mouth-watering, the party-perfect recipes below will do the trick.

For those who wish to go out and enjoy Mexican food and have some fun, restaurants, and not only Mexican ones, are planning festivities and menus that go beyond guacamole, chips and margaritas.

This title of an article (https://bit.ly/3Wiytxt) on Upworthy.com caught my attention: “Sorry Italian food lovers. America is about to have a new favorite ethnic food.”

It states, “According to Datassential, a Chicago-based market research firm, millennials (ages 27 to 42) rank Mexican food as their favorite ethnic cuisine over Italian, and Gen Z (ages 8 to 23) agrees, with Chinese in second and Italian in third.”

It is not true that all Mexican cuisine is very spicy and hot. I can attest to that, being very sensitive to both. The approach with any spice is to carefully add it to allow the flavors of the proteins and vegetables to shine.

Mexican food has evolved over the centuries with many influences, especially from the Aztec and Mayan civilizations. Mexico’s influence on the American food scene cannot be denied.

Tex-Mex is what many Americans believe authentic Mexican cuisine is because that’s what they have experienced in many chain restaurants, the usual suspects, tacos, fajitas and burritos. And yet, the cuisine goes way beyond these well-known delights.

My cooking inspiration comes from blogs, food manufacturers’ websites and, of course, cookbooks.

To help in my search for a Mexican dish or two to prepare, I perused my collection and selected “The Best Mexican Recipes: Kitchen-Tested Recipes Put the Real Flavors of Mexico Within Reach” by the editors of America’s Test Kitchen (2015, $29.99).

The book tells the story of Mexican cooking, considering the home kitchen and American supermarkets. What I found useful is the title’s recipes that include Mexico’s regional dishes, highlighting the ingredients from the varied climate and topography of the country.

For example, there are spicy fish preparations of the Yucatan as well as more rustic dishes from the north and complex moles of Puebla and Oaxaca. Don’t fret, in addition to the authentic dishes you probably haven’t seen in restaurants, there are many recipes that have been a part of what most think of as Mexican cuisine.

The introduction lists, and shows, the types of fresh and dried chilies, describes their appearance and flavor, provides substitutions and how to prepare them. The use of corn in its many forms (fresh corn, corn husks, corn meal, masa), a staple ingredient in Mexican cooking, is discussed.

How to use herbs, spices, fruits and vegetables plus other ingredients in Mexican cooking is explained. In the “Building Blocks of Mexican Cooking” pages, tips such as making sauces, using marinades and rubs, cooking with tortillas and finishing and serving are helpful in preparing the recipes.

This Cinco de Mayo, why not recreate some of your favorite Mexican dishes at home, and while you’re at it expand your repertoire to include a little-known authentic and tantalizing dish you rarely see north of the border. Check out these recipes from the book to help prepare your Cinco de Mayo celebration.

For the recipe for beef taco salad, visit https://bit.ly/2yEDlo4.

Seared Shrimp With Tomatoes and Avocado

Serves 4

Ingredients:

1 pound tomatoes, cored, seeded and cut into ½-inch pieces

6 scallions, white and green parts separated and sliced thin

¼ cup minced fresh cilantro

3 garlic cloves, minced

1-2 teaspoons minced canned chipotle chile in adobo sauce

Salt and pepper

1 ½ pounds extra-large shrimp (21 to 25 per pound), peeled and deveined

1/8 teaspoon sugar

2 tablespoons vegetable oil, divided

1 tablespoon lime juice, plus lime wedges for serving

1 avocado, halved, pitted, and diced

Directions:

Toss tomatoes, scallion whites, cilantro, garlic, chipotle and ¾ teaspoon salt together in a bowl. In a separate bowl, toss shrimp with sugar, ¼ teaspoon salt and ¼ teaspoon pepper.

Heat 1 tablespoon oil in 12-inch skillet over high heat until just smoking. Add half of shrimp to pan in single layer and cook, without moving them, until spotty brown on 1 side, about 1 minute. Transfer shrimp to large bowl (they will be underdone).

Repeat with remaining 1 tablespoon oil and remaining shrimp.

Serve Shrimp and Lime Ceviche as an appetizer with crunchy tortilla chips or use as a topping for tostadas. (Courtesy of America’s Test Kitchen)

Shrimp and Lime Ceviche

Serves 6

Ingredients:

1 tomato, cored, seeded, and chopped fine

½ cup lemon juice (3 lemons)

1 jalapeño chile, stemmed, seeded and minced

1 teaspoon grated lime zest plus ½ cup juice (4 limes)

1 garlic clove, minced

Salt and pepper

1 pound extra-large shrimp (21 to 25 per pound), peeled, deveined, tails removed, and halved lengthwise

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

4 scallions, sliced thin

3 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro

½ teaspoon sugar

Directions:

Combine tomato, lemon juice, jalapeño, lime zest and juice, garlic and ½ teaspoon salt in medium bowl. Stir in shrimp, cover and refrigerate until shrimp are firm and opaque throughout, 45 minutes to 1 hour, stirring halfway through refrigerating.

Although not a traditional Mexican dish, the recipe for 7-Layer Dip uses many flavors and ingredients to create a party-worthy appetizer. (Courtesy of America’s Test Kitchen)

7-Layer Dip

Serves 8-10

Ingredients:

4 large tomatoes, cored, seeded and chopped fine

6 scallions (2 minced; 4, green parts only, sliced thin)

2 jalapeño chiles, stemmed, seeded and minced

3 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro

2 tablespoons plus 2 teaspoons lime juice (2 limes)

Salt

1 (15-ounce) can black beans, drained but not rinsed

2 garlic cloves, minced

¾ teaspoon chili powder

1 pound pepper Jack cheese, shredded (4 cups)

1½ cups sour cream

1 recipe Chunky Guacamole (recipe below)

Directions:

Combine tomatoes, minced scallions, jalapeños, cilantro, 2 tablespoons lime juice and ⅛ teaspoon salt in bowl. Let sit until tomatoes begin to soften, about 30 minutes. Drain mixture, discard liquid and return to bowl.

Meanwhile, pulse beans, garlic, chili powder, remaining 2 teaspoons lime juice and ⅛ teaspoon salt in food processor to coarse paste, about 15 pulses. Spread bean mixture evenly in 8-inch square baking dish or 1-quart glass bowl.

In a clean, dry food processor bowl, pulse 2½ cups pepper jack and sour cream until smooth, about 15 pulses. Spread pepper jack–sour cream mixture evenly over bean layer. Top evenly with remaining 1½ cups pepper jack, followed by guacamole and, finally, drained tomato mixture. (Dip can be refrigerated for up to 24 hours; bring to room temperature before serving.) Sprinkle with sliced scallion greens before serving. Serve with tortilla chips.

Chunky Guacamole

Makes about 3 cups

Ingredients:

3 ripe avocados

¼ cup minced fresh cilantro

1 jalapeno chile, stemmed, seeded and minced

2 tablespoons finely chopped red onion

2 tablespoons lime juice

2 garlic cloves, minced

Salt

½ teaspoon ground cumin

Directions:

Halve 1 avocado, remove pit and scoop flesh into medium bowl. All cilantro, jalapeno, onion, lime juice, garlic, 3/4 teaspoon salt and cumin and mash with potato masher (or fork) until mostly smooth.

Halve, pit and dice remaining 2 avocados. Add cubes to bowl with mashed avocado mixture and gently mash until mixture is well combined but still coarse. (Guacamole can be refrigerated for up to 24 hours with plastic wrap pressed directly against its surface). Season with salt before serving.

Layers of mashed spiced black beans, sauteed corn, fresh tomatoes and cheese are layered between crisped flour tortillas

Corn and Black Bean Tortilla Tart

Serves 4-6

Ingredients:

¼ cup extra-virgin olive oil

2½ cups fresh or thawed frozen corn

2 large plum tomatoes, cored and cut into ¼-inch pieces

4 scallions, sliced thin

2 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro

1 teaspoon lime juice

Salt and pepper

1 onion, chopped fine

1 jalapeño chile, stemmed, seeded, and minced

3 garlic cloves, minced

1 teaspoon ground cumin

1 (15-ounce) can black beans, rinsed

¾ cup vegetable broth

4 (10-inch) flour tortillas

1 ½ cups cheddar cheese, shredded

½ cup queso fresco, crumbled

Directions:

Adjust oven rack to middle position and heat oven to 400 degrees. Heat 1 tablespoon oil in 12-inch nonstick skillet over medium-high heat until shimmering. Add corn and cook, stirring occasionally, until kernels begin to brown and pop, 3 to 5 minutes. Transfer to large bowl and let cool slightly. Stir in tomatoes, scallions, 1 tablespoon cilantro, and lime juice and season with salt and pepper to taste.

Wipe skillet clean with paper towels. Add 1 tablespoon oil and onion to skillet and cook over medium heat until softened, 3 to 5 minutes. Stir in jalapeño, garlic and cumin and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds. Stir in beans and broth and cook until liquid has nearly evaporated, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer mixture to large bowl and mash beans with potato masher until mostly smooth. Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Line rimless or inverted baking sheet with parchment paper. Lightly brush both sides of tortillas with remaining 2 tablespoons oil. Place 1 tortilla on prepared sheet. Spread one-quarter of mashed beans over top, leaving ½ inch border around edge. Sprinkle with one-quarter of corn mixture, one-quarter of cheddar, and one-quarter of queso fresco. Repeat with remaining tortillas, beans, corn, cheddar and queso fresco to make layered tart.

Bake tart until cheese is melted and slightly brown, 20 to 25 minutes. Let cool on sheet for 5 minutes, then slide onto cutting board using parchment; discard parchment. Sprinkle remaining 1 tablespoon cilantro over top. Cut into wedges and serve.

Recipes and photos courtesy of America’s Test Kitchen

Stephen Fries is professor emeritus and former coordinator of the Hospitality Management Programs at Gateway Community College in New Haven, Conn. He has been a food and culinary travel columnist for the past 16 years and is co-founder of and host of “Worth Tasting,” a culinary walking tour of downtown New Haven. He is a board member of the International Association of Culinary Professionals. Email him at Stephen@stephenfries.com. For more, go to stephenfries.com.

[demetriandelibinaryboyfriends]

The boys and their gay little road trip are BACK!!! And this time...with t r a u m a d u m p i n g! And Demetri owning up to the handful of times he has, in fact, been a little shit!

Anyways I told myself I was only going to write one (1) Demetri and Eli Take A Homoerotic Road Trip To Find Miguel one-shot because goddamn am I overflowing with WIPs right now but then a sequel to this fic exploded out of me like that scary little gremlin creature from the Alien movie and now here we are D:

I feel like Eli is absolutely the type to play-punch/play-hit Demetri a lot (kind of like Sam does with Miguel), but he wouldn’t really get into the habit of doing it until after he and Dem had been friends again for a while and he’s sure Dem’s actually comfortable with it. Meanwhile Demetri’s like “I should probably have a talk with him about expressing his emotions in a healthier way, but like...this is kind of funny and oddly flattering, so I won’t” XD It doesn’t actually hurt or anything, but alas, poor Eli Moskowitz cannot shake the “instinctually punching shit” habit.

Bitches will be like “everyone wanna talk about how Miguel’s fall traumatized the fuck out of Eli, but is no one gonna talk about how it had to have severely traumatized Demetri too???” and then not wait for an answer

It’s me, I’m bitches

Fic under the cut!!! Be warned, it is an even longer longboi than the last--almost 6k words!!! Once you get started writing angst about two guys dealing with their best friend nearly dying, you can’t stop, I guess?

OH, and uh. Pretty severe TW/CW here for discussing trauma, deep-seated fear, and nightmares in painful detail. The second half of this fic gets extremely heavy and I apologize in advance.

Next part is here!

***

Night Terrors

“Dude. This sucks. There’s barely any fucking room back here.”

Demetri practically shoves Eli onto the comforters sprawled over the backseat as he shuts the car door behind them. “Well, someone here said that we should get a motel room. Unfortunately, no one in this car ever listens to him.”

Eli crawls onto the blankets and sits cross-legged, turning to raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m…the only other one in this car, Demetri.”

“Like I said.” Demetri isn’t about to back down. “No one in this car heeds the suggestions of a very intelligent person who said the passengers should just pay a little extra to sleep in a normal bed.”

“Mmmm.” Eli purses his lips in a pout. “Tough crowd.”

It’s a look that Demetri has come to know well. The same one as when Eli would lose at a board or video game, or not beat out one of Demetri’s lanky arms in getting the last slice of pizza. It was, for lack of a more delicate term, the look that he put on when Eli was being a whiney baby.

He flops down face-first onto the mass of white blankets, letting out a long groan. Eli’s groans have only gotten more and more dramatic since he became bold enough to spike up his hair.

At first, it was strange. Perhaps a little concerning, even. Now it’s just amusing.

It’s probably for the better, Eli feeling like he can be open about his malcontent. Him keeping it to himself as bullies’ taunts cut deeper and deeper holes in his psyche didn’t do him any favors.

Demetri never stops wishing he found out about that sooner.

“The seats won’t even go all the way back,” Eli complains, voice muffled by fabric. “It’s because you filled your suitcase up with so much fucking Dungeon Lord.”

Demetri scoffs. “And what’s your brilliant idea to lure Miguel Diaz away from whatever enticing life of crime his dad’s inevitably pulling him into? Dangle his All-Valley trophy on a string and hope he chases after it?”

He sits down on the blankets, crawling over to Eli and giving him a gentle but firm flick in the back of the head. Eli rolls over to glare at him, but Demetri can tell a laugh is tugging on his lips.

“Give me a break. Miguel’s not dumb enough to get wrapped up in some Mexican mafia shit.”

“I don’t know.” Before Demetri can help it, a shit-eating grin is crawling over his face. “You idiots both gulped down that Cobra Kai Kool-Aid pretty eagerly for a while.”

“Hey! Shut up!” Eli’s fist shoots up, punching him hard in the chest. Demetri bursts out laughing, flopping onto his stomach beside his friend.

“You don’t…actually think he’d buy into that, do you?”

Eli’s voice softens, the nervous quality from earlier that night slipping back in. Demetri turns to face him, laying his head on a folded arm.

“To be totally honest with you, I’m a bit worried it’s going to be a Guardians of the Galaxy 2 type of situation,” he admits. “You know. He meets his dad, he seems cool, he wants to have a relationship with him. Spoil him, even. His dad tells Miguel he’s a special guy. But, you know…there’s something royally fucked up going on behind the scenes.”

Eli turns to him with wide, fearful eyes, and Demetri immediately feels guilt knot in his stomach.

“Sorry. Should not have said that out loud.”

Eli makes a face. “You really think it’s that bad?”

Demetri only shrugs. “I don’t have any more idea than you do. But you know me. Always expect the absolute worst, just in case.”

“You’re such a ray of sunshine, Demetri.”

“A ray of sunshine you betrayed the Valley’s most evil dojo for, I’ll have you recall.” He reaches out and pokes Eli in the side, earning another overdramatic groan.

“Oh, fuck off. I was worried you’d let that get to your head.”

“High time something did. I spent a good ten years or so feeling absolutely garbage about myself.”

“Still can’t figure out if you were more or less insufferable back then.”

“Come on! You know you love me.”

Eli huffs, turning on his side to shoot Demetri another glare. “Well, I bet wherever Miguel is, he has a proper bed, at least.”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “Too late to bitch, Mr. Moskowitz. We spent too long up there fantasizing about space aliens, and now we have to pay the price. Unless you want me dozing off at the wheel tomorrow, we are sleeping right here.”

“It’s only 66 miles to the next town,” Eli says hopefully.

“Eli.” Demetri lets out a long sigh. “It is—and I cannot emphasize this enough—2 a.m.”

“And I’m cursing your name?” Eli breaks into a smirk.

Despite himself, Demetri chuckles. “Oh? What’s this? You’re not too badass for TSwift?”

Eli shrugs, appearing to be trying very hard to look nonchalant. “It’d be a waste not to make the reference.”

“You’re so in love that you act insane, and that’s the way I loved you.”

“Breaking down and coming undone.”

“It’s a roller coaster kind of rush.”

“Never knew that I could feel that much.

“And thaaaaaat’s the way I looooooved youuuuu!”

As Demetri poorly belts out the last lyrics, Eli gags. “Please never sing Taylor Swift again. I’m not any use to Miguel if I die of secondhand embarrassment first.”

“You’re going to have to get used to secondhand embarrassment if you want to keep hanging out with me, Eli.”

“Not much choice, currently. I’m stuck in a car with you in the middle of Mexico.”

“That you are.” He gives his friend a pitying look. “But I’d bet you’d be miserable back in the Valley. I am here to tell you that Mr. LaRusso does not shy away from having us train in 90+ degree weather. The guy he got to substitute for him might be even worse.”

He reaches out and squeezes Eli’s shoulder playfully. The other boy reluctantly smiles.

Eli starts squirming around, trying to get comfortable on the slightly-sloped backseat chairs and evidently not having much luck. “What even are the sleeping arrangements going to be?” he grunts.

Demetri shrugs. “Find the least uncomfortable spot, which will probably be away from the seat crease and anywhere where those seatbelt buckle things aren’t digging into your side.”

After more frustrated adjusting, Eli sprawls out near the edge of the seats. Demetri does a fair bit of fruitless shuffling of his own before settling down behind Eli.

It dawns on him how close his and Eli’s bodies are, touching at several points. It’s only because if he scooted any further back, the seatbelts would be jabbing into his waist, he tells himself.

It would be easy to wrap Eli in his arms, pull him in and encase him like Demetri’s always wanted. Bury his nose in the crook of Eli’s neck.

He won’t, of course. They’re not trying to comfort each other about Miguel at the moment, and thus it would be inappropriate.

He settles for only inching a little closer, lips drawing up to Eli’s ear. “Probably good you’re facing out that way,” he murmurs teasingly.

“Wha—why’s that?”

Eli leans into him, and Demetri tries not to relish it.

He breaks into a smirk. “Because you might piss all over both of us otherwise.”

“Wh—Demetri!” Eli rolls over and elbows him hard in the stomach, and Demetri laughs.

“Sorry, sorry. I can’t help it sometimes. But you know I don’t care about that.”

Eli huffs, eyes narrowed and unimpressed. “Doesn’t matter anyway, asshole. I piss on your floor, and I’m still going to stink up your car.”

Demetri’s smirk widens. “Nah, I took the proper precautions.”

“What—dude!”

Eli rolls over to peek over the edge of the seat. He abruptly jerks back, and Demetri lets out a chortle.

“When did you have time to even do all that?” Eli demands.

“While you were in the bathroom at the last rest stop. I figured you would want to sleep in the car, and the last thing I need is more stains in the floor for my mom to yell at me about. So I made adequate preparations.”

“I did wonder why we were running low on paper towels.”

“They were called to a higher purpose, Eli,” Demetri explains. “I.e. protecting my car floor from your piss showers.”

Eli stiffens next to him, and guilt suddenly squirms in his chest.

“Hey.” His voice softens. “I was kidding. Promise.”

Eli doesn’t respond, and the guilt twists itself around further like a king cobra exploring Demetri’s intestines. He lets out a short breath, heart starting to pound as he remembers something.

“Hey, um…I hate to dig up this grave, but I owe you an apology for that whole stunt I pulled at Moon’s shindig.”

“Oh, what, that?”

Ironically, this seems to be what finally makes Eli relax. He rolls over to face Demetri, scoffing.

“Compared to all the shit I pulled? Dude, that was nothing.”

Demetri frowns. “It was not nothing. It was fucked.”

Eli rolls his eyes. “I was being a fuck.”

“You poured some beer on me, so what? Showers are a thing that exists!”

“You know it wasn’t just that.” Eli sighs, gaze going to the blankets. “I lost my shit over a Yelp review.”

“I mean, I was concerned about you going all alpha male, I won’t lie. But I should’ve tried to talk to you about not getting sucked into a karate cult before I went and blasted said karate cult on the internet.”

“You did try to talk to me.” Eli’s voice comes out in a mumble, eyes flicking around guiltily. “I just brushed you off every time.”

“Yeah, I got brushed off a lot last summer.”

He thinks about how Miguel looked at him after the tournament, and his heart clenches.

Demetri Alexopoulos is no stranger to being brushed aside. His peers did it for years, avoiding eye contact and inching away when it came time to partner up for class assignments. Picking him last for sports teams. He remembers watching the rest of the class get a deskful of valentines each while most of his classmates forgot he was even there to be given anything.

He never cared what they thought. They were all shallow assholes, anyway.

It was different when the people brushing you off were also the only ones who ever seemed to like having you around. It cut deeper.

And then, of course, there was the other incident at Moon’s party that set him off. He remembers the sadness and longing in Eli’s face as he stared at Moon and Piper across the room. He remembers the bitter jealousy and unexpectedly sharp rage that twisted in his gut—the anger that Moon so easily moved on, to another girl no less, but Eli refused to.

He wished Eli would look at him like that. And for a time, it seemed he might.

They talked about Doctor Who. Eli smiled like he used to. He kept inching closer, looking at Demetri’s lips. Perhaps it meant nothing, but perhaps it didn’t.

And then Demetri had the gall to suggest that maybe it was time to let Moon go. Maybe it was time to find someone else. Maybe, just maybe, there were other people out there who were ready and willing to love Eli “Hawk” Moskowitz more than Moon ever could, with her skin-deep picture of shamelessly bright hair and cool tattoos and rippling pectorals.

Eli, it turned out, didn’t care about all that. He cared about losing, and he cared about Demetri suggesting he was anything but strong and invincible. Only pussies went around trying to find inner peace and hoping their estranged best friend would somehow reciprocate their increasingly-doomed romantic feelings.

When Demetri grabbed that microphone with beer-soaked hair, he could still hear the audible snap of his heart breaking in half. Not unlike his arm a few months later, ironically.

He doesn’t say any of this to Eli. Instead, he only shrugs.

“Still wasn’t my place to say all those things about you. I promised I wouldn’t tell anyone about—well, you know.”

“And I promised in the 6th grade that if we suffered, we suffered together.” Eli snorts. “I think both of us are pretty shit at keeping our promises, dude.”

“What, so you weren’t suffering in Cobra Kai?” Demetri clicks his tongue. “You weren’t being mindfucked by an evil war criminal and tormented every minute because you missed me so much? I’d say you held up your end of the bargain just fine.”

Eli groans. “Not everything is about you, Demetri.”

“You’re right, not everything. Only most things.”

“God, shut up.” Eli punches him in the chest again, and Demetri laughs.

“Anyways, um.” Eli’s face grows serious. “About the bedwetting thing. Don’t stress about it. I mean, it was embarrassing, yeah, but I got most of my frustration out when I snapped your arm.”

Demetri makes a face, wincing. “The whole arm was a bit much, you know. I think breaking a finger or two would’ve been more appropriate.”

Eli raises his eyebrows. “Honestly you would have bitched about it more. ‘No, please, not my fingers! I’ll never be able to code again!’”

Eli clutches at his hand, imitating Demetri in what he thinks is an unfairly high-pitched and nasally tone of voice. “All right, very funny, wiseass.”

Eli’s demeanor suddenly changes—more reserved, more hesitant. His eyes flick around again, not meeting Demetri’s gaze.

Demetri wonders if he was glaring a little too hard.

“I, um—you know I’m sorry about all—”

“Hey. Eli.” Demetri quickly reaches out and gives Eli’s shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You already apologized for all that. You don’t need to do it again.”

“I still feel bad, though.”

“Well, so do I.” Demetri starts to rub Eli’s shoulder, hoping the repetitive motion will help to put him at ease. “I don’t think—I don’t know if we can ever really stop feeling bad about all the karate war nonsense. But I said sorry, you said sorry. Let’s just say we’re even-steven and leave it all behind.”

He’s not sure what he anticipated happening next, but he knows he isn’t expecting for Eli to surge forward, wrapping him in a tight embrace. Demetri tenses with surprise, caught off-guard.

After a few moments, he hugs back.

“Thanks,” Eli mumbles into his shoulder. “You made it a lot easier for me than you had to. Switching sides.”

“I just wanted you back,” Demetri whispers, voice suddenly dropping until it’s barely audible. “I don’t think there’s anything you could have done that would’ve…” He trails off.

That would’ve made me stop loving you.

Eli hums into his neck, thankfully not pressing for the rest of the remark.

They hold each other for a long moment, and Demetri lets himself relax. This is the Eli he grew up with—the Eli who was stingy with physical affection with everyone but his best friend. The Eli who had no shame about clinging to him like a stubborn lemur—behind closed doors, anyway.

He feels Eli tremble against him slightly, and he pulls him closer.

“You know what you do owe me an apology for?” Eli mumbles.

“What’s that?”

“You didn’t bring enough blankets on this goddamn trip.”

“Oh? You want an extra blanket?”

Smirking, Demetri flips Eli onto his back and sprawls himself over the other boy. “Why didn’t you say so?”

Eli grunts and tries to shove him off. He’s not expecting how tightly Demetri is holding onto him—his mistake, really, for not accounting for Demetri being an insufferable barnacle.

“Not like that, stupid. You’re way too scrawny to retain any body heat.”

“Oh, come now. What I lack in girth I make up for in height. And we’re both skinny, buddy, I can protect most of you from the cold. It’s basic physics.”

“Fuck your physics, you feel like a floorboard.” Eli gives him another shove. Finally he complies, snickering as he allows himself to be removed from Eli’s stomach.

“Okay, okay, fine. Some of your hoodies are in the front seat if that would help.”

Eli crawls into the front of the car, clambering for one of the many baggy hoodies he brought along. Demetri sits up, eyes abruptly starting to feel heavy. The exhausting day of driving and worrying and fighting down his most recent bout of unwelcome gay desires is finally catching up to him, it seems.

Eli settles for a plain black sports hoodie, tugging it on and lying back down across the back seat. His legs are bent slightly, as if to leave room for Demetri. Not that he needs to, given how little space Eli takes up when compared with Demetri.

It’s also likely because Eli Moskowitz tends to sleep curled up. Demetri has never been sure why—maybe an instinct to protect himself, or maybe he was less likely to…well, relieve himself in the wee hours of the morning if he was in the fetal position. In any case, he hardly has the room to do it properly here.

Demetri wriggles around until he finds a suitable position, grunting apologies to Eli as he continually bumps into him. Even when he’s found a decent spot, they’re still close enough to get Demetri’s heart beating embarrassingly fast again.

“Sorry, buddy,” Demetri says. “No way around it. I think we’re going to have to get pretty cozy in here.”

Eli groans, leaning into him again. “Kill me, Demetri.”

Before he can stop himself, he wraps his arms around Eli’s waist and pulls him in, laughing into his shoulder. “Not a chance. There’s absolutely no way I’d be able to find Miguel on my own.”

Eli grunts disapprovingly, but it seems to be only for show. Demetri doesn’t feel an elbow dig into his stomach, or his captured best friend writhing to escape. Which, though Demetri is loathe to admit it, Eli could easily do with those terrifying biceps of his.

Instead, he presses into Demetri, wiggling around to make himself more comfortable. Demetri wonders if Eli doesn’t think he notices it, the way Eli is melting into him like an ice cream cone on a hot day.

But Demetri notices. And all it can do is make his heart ache.

Eventually they will have to have a talk about all this. Demetri knows how it’ll go. Eli will sag with guilt, tell Demetri he was confused. Tell Demetri he only ever liked girls, and a lonely cuddle now and again didn’t mean anything.

Demetri pulls the comforters over both of them, swaddling them up into the most cozy nest he can muster. He feels Eli’s body start to relax underneath him, breaths slowing as he drifts off to sleep.

Eli and his hoodie smell like gas station nachos and hot Cheetos and Axe, but Demetri can’t stop breathing them in. He buries his face in the black fabric, soaking in the warmth and dreading the moment when he’ll finally have to let it go.

“Night, Eli.”

Eli doesn’t answer.

~~~

For some godforsaken reason, Demetri wakes up in the middle of the night.

Well…the middler middle of the night. It’s now 4:30 instead of 2:30.

It’s pitch dark out, no sign of the theoretical sunrise anywhere in sight. Demetri can still feel his arms wrapped around Eli, though, which brings him some semblance of comfort.

What’s not so comforting is the way Eli is twitching and thrashing around beside him.

From time to time, he makes little noises in his sleep. Pants. A moan. A whimper. A soft cry.

Demetri feels his blood freeze inside him. He knows what this is.

He’s seen Eli jerk around in his sleep plenty of times. When they were growing up, Eli was tormented by all sorts of nightmares. Sometimes they were about fantastical things—the werewolves from Harry Potter, the Sith, the giant spider from Lord of the Rings. As they grew older, they became mostly about being chased around by the bullies that made middle school and high school such a hellhole.

Demetri always hoped the nightmares went away when Eli became Mr. Tough Guy. If Eli Moskowitz wasn’t scared of anything, then no monsters could hunt him down and chase him through his dreams. A terrible Balrog could rear up in front of him, and he’d tell it it was a stupid pussy and that it should fuck off. He may have been strutting through the school acting like the world’s biggest asshole, but at the very least, he didn’t have to feel unsafe anymore.

Apparently, the nightmares had not gone away.

Demetri pulls him in tighter. His hands find Eli’s, and he wraps them in his long fingers and starts to massage them.

He needs Eli to know that he’s here.

On some level, Demetri thinks Eli does. Eli’s hands slowly reach up and clutch onto his. Another twitch, and Eli’s fingers shoot through his like water through a grate.

Eli squeezes his hands so tightly that Demetri wonders if he’s going to lose circulation. He doesn’t care.

Eli jerks again, so hard he nearly falls off the seat. Demetri catches him.

The shorter boy gasps out, for the first time dissolving into audible words. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no…”

Eli turns, eyes wide open. “Demetri? What—”

“Shhhhh. It’s okay.” He pulls Eli into his chest. “You’re okay. You’re safe.”

Eli twists his hands into Demetri’s shirt, burying his face in the fabric. His entire form is shaking like a flimsy paper kite.

Demetri fastens gangly arms around Eli’s back. “Whatever it was, it can’t hurt you now. Not while I’m here.”

Eli says nothing for a time, body trembling and hands clinging to Demetri like a lifeline. Demetri can practically feel the pain and fear and anguish rolling off him, and he wishes more than anything that he could make it all go away.

“It wasn’t me,” Eli says cryptically, after what feels like an eternity.

Demetri opens his mouth and shuts it again, unsure how to respond.

“Do you ever have nightmares?” Eli looks at him for the first time since he woke up, eyes haunted.

Demetri raises his eyebrows. “You mean…about the Karate Wars in general, or something more specific? Because the answer is ‘yes’ on both counts.”

“The balcony,” Eli says. “Miguel.”

Demetri sucks in his breath. “Oh.”

He remembers that day. Better than he’d like to. He remembers the guilt flooding him as he watched Eli crumple to the ground, glass shards spattering his body like shrapnel. He remembers running into an empty hallway and standing, shaking, with his head in his hands, trying to process everything that happened. He remembers his breaths coming in short gasps, thoughts spinning in circles about those glass pieces slicing into something vital and blood staining the tile floor. He remembers how badly he wanted to shatter like that trophy case, scream and cry and wail until nothing hurt anymore.

By the time word got back to him about Miguel, the paramedics had already come and gone. For all Demetri knew, the next time he’d see Miguel Diaz would be at a funeral showing.

“Not the fall,” Demetri says quietly. “I wasn’t there to see it, thank god. But the weeks after…he popped up in my dreams a lot.”

“Really?” For a moment, Eli’s terror fades, replaced with a morbid curiosity.

“Yeah, all the time, actually.” Demetri chuckles darkly. “He’d corner me somewhere. Have the same look on his face that he did when he won the tournament. And he’d just…say all kinds of awful things. That he never gave a shit about me. That he only ever made friends with me because he didn’t have other options. That I was a pathetic pussy who’d always be worthless trash to him. That you were always stronger and braver and tougher, and I didn’t deserve the likes of either of you—why would he want whiney little Demetri when he could have The Hawk?” He scoffs, trying to ignoring the growing pain in his chest.

“He said all I was was weak and annoying and no one could ever love me—just tolerate me, at best,” he goes on. “That I’d die alone with no friends, and both of you could do better. That everyone I was stupid enough to care about would run from me as fast as they could, once they found out who I really was. You know. Uplifting stuff like that.”

Eli gapes at him. “Demetri…that’s…”

Demetri lets out another humorless laugh, shaking his head. “It’s ironic, really. Sometimes I’d have these ones where I’d be hiding in the computer lab, but you never showed up. It was Miguel. But like…” He winces at the memory. “His back would be all…broken and mangled and twisted up. He wouldn’t move quite right. You know, like that lady from The Exorcist or something. He’d crawl after me and back me into some room and I’d expect him to maul me like a mountain lion or what have you, but…he never did. He just told me he hated me. Over and over.” He takes a shaky breath, throat growing heavy. “Sometimes he’d pepper in that you and Sam and Mr. LaRusso and Chris and everyone else I happened to give a damn about couldn’t stand me, either. ‘I hate you, Hawk hates you, everyone hates you. I was never your friend. I hope Kyler breaks your fucking jaw.’ And then I’d say…”

Demetri’s voice breaks, and he wonders how much longer he can hold it together before he crumples—just like he wanted to on the first day of school, all those months ago.

“I’m so—” He chokes back a sob. “I’m so fucking sorry this happened to you, man. I should have been there. I should have helped. I should have stopped Robby, and I’ll never fucking forgive myself for the fact that I didn’t. All I want is for you to be okay again.”

Demetri feels a tear worm its way down his face. He tries to swat it away with the back of his hand, but he knows Eli saw it.

“He says none of that matters,” Demetri says quietly. “He’ll always hate me. Anyone in their right mind would leave me, in the end.”

“Holy shit.”

Eli lets out his breath, staring at him. Demetri looks away, eyes stinging.

“And I thought mine were bad,” Eli mumbles.

A sob finally forces its way out, and Demetri quickly covers it with a shaky laugh. “Why don’t we say they both sucked and call it a draw?”

“You don’t—you don’t believe any of that crock of shit, do you?”

Demetri feels a hand on his cheek—rough, calloused, but the touch incredibly soft. Eli turns Demetri’s face to him, and Demetri is sure it’s blotchy and scrunched-up and utterly pathetic-looking.

“Miguel loves you, man,” Eli says softly. “He basically told me to get the hell out of his life as soon as he found out about Golf N Stuff. Really pissed me off at the time.”

Demetri laughs softly. Despite his better judgment, he leans into Eli’s hand.

Eli sighs. “To be honest, it really hurt that he chose you. I mean…I get why he did. I was a mess back then. But I felt so alone. And I just…”

He lets go of Demetri, burying his face in his hands. “God, I’m so sorry. I was so caught up in my own shit that I didn’t think about how that whole thing with Miguel must’ve fucked you up, too.”

“Damn right, you didn’t.” Demetri snorts mockingly. “I wanted to cry on your shoulder about it, but you were too busy being evil.”

“I had it in my head your entire dojo wanted to hurt Miguel. I thought you did, too.”

Demetri shakes his head, expression hardening.

“I would never,” he says solemnly.

“I think on some level, I knew that.” Eli looks up from his hands, bright blue gaze guilty again. “And you had Sam. I just imagined you two sobbing into each other’s arms, and it made me so livid, but…I don’t know. I think that’s because I was jealous. I mean.” He sighs. “I had Tory, I guess, but it wasn’t the same. She doesn’t want to be seen as anything but strong.”

“Yeah, she’s not really the consoling type, is she?”

“Not at all.” Eli smiles, shaking his head. “I felt like I had to stomach everything alone. But you…”

Without warning Eli surges forward, wrapping his arms around Demetri’s neck and pressing their foreheads together.

“I’m sorry, man. I should’ve been there for you. We should’ve both…”

He trails off. Demetri can feel Eli’s body shaking slightly against him.

“Hey. It’s okay.” He lifts a hand, running it through Eli’s buzzed hair. “It’s over now. And whatever you’re feeling, I’m here this time.”

Eli leans further into him, breaths quick against his face.

“It’s always the railing,” he says after a pause. “Those few seconds where he’s falling, and he’s terrified. It’s like it’s dragging out so it never ends. And then…”

Eli’s voice finally breaks completely, and Demetri feels wetness against his face.

“It’s the crack. It’s the fucking crack when his back hits the stairs. I can never stop hearing it.”

He trembles with sobs. Demetri’s hands slip down, wrapping around Eli’s waist and pulling him the rest of the way in.

“It’s all right,” he murmurs softly into his friend’s ear. “Miguel got better. He’s safe. And you and I…”

He pulls away to meet Eli’s eyes, wide and watery and brimming with fear. “We’re going to make sure he never gets hurt like that again. I promise you.”

And just like that, Eli is kissing him again.

It’s different than before. More tender, more effortless. Not starving and frantic like the one from earlier was.

Demetri leans into it, stomach doing flips. Eli Moskowitz is going to be the death of him.

And he knows it, the smug little bastard.

He lets himself fall back onto the car seat, pulling Eli with him. He feels his hair splay against the blankets, the weight of Eli surprisingly light on top of him.

Even with all that extra added muscle weight, he’s still tiny.

Demetri wonders idly how he’s handling this so calmly. How Eli Moskowitz is going around spontaneously kissing him and he’s not completely disintegrating.

His heart is louder than the marching band at a football game, though—that’s for sure.

Eli kisses him like he’s delicate, like he could shatter if the other boy presses a little too hard or suddenly pulls away. He kisses him much softer than “The Hawk” ever could.

It’s like one of Demetri’s embarrassing middle school fantasies brought to life—Eli pressed up against him, fingers trailing against his skin lighter than felt, kissing him like Eli’s in love with him. The only thing missing is the early promposal—“I know we don’t have a prom for another 5 years, but I just wanted to ask you before anyone else does.”

(Not that anyone else would have asked him, but that was beside the point.)

Demetri thinks he’ll dissolve into dust when Eli finally pulls away, but he doesn’t. Surprisingly, he finds himself smiling against Eli’s still-hovering lips.

“Is this just something we’re doing now?” he murmurs. “Kissing every time we get stressed about Miguel?”

“Is that a problem?” Eli lifts his head and smirks down at him. “Haven’t gotten that impression so far.”

Demetri clicks his tongue. “The only problem is that once we find El Serpiente, we won’t be able to kiss anymore. And that seems like a bummer.”

Eli shrugs, looking unfazed. “It’s up for debate.” His hand slides up Demetri’s neck, coming to cup his cheek.

His thumb brushes across Demetri’s skin, sending shivers rippling through him. It’s a small thing, but it’s enough to push Demetri awfully close to the brink of insanity.

And Demetri can’t help it. He grabs the collar of Eli’s hoodie and pulls him down for another kiss.

They end up in a tangled pile in the blankets—legs, arms, and bodies perfectly intertwined. At some point, Eli slides down to rest his head in the crook of Demetri’s neck.

They cling to each other for what feels like a long time, neither saying a word. Eli is the one to finally break the silence.

“So you want to be El Serpiente’s bodyguard, huh? I’ll be honest, you never struck me as the ‘violently overprotective’ type.”

Demetri snorts. “Uh, where have you been for the last 12 years? You seem to have confused me not wanting to inflict incredible violence on the people harassing you with me begrudgingly accepting that I was not able to.”

Eli laughs softly against him. “Actually, yeah. At the tournament you were kind of terrifying. Wish you’d had more of that for all the years we were being kicked around.”

“Oh, I had plenty. I just didn’t externalize it is all. That’s a good way to get your ass handed to you on a silver platter.”

“Ooooh, classy asskicking! I guess you’re the one doing that now.”

He chuckles. “I try to be. If you have to throw a punch, it should at least be in style.”

“Ah, yes. Demetri Alexopoulos. Master of only the most dignified of throwdowns. Never awkward or uncoordinated at all.” Demetri rolls his eyes, snorting in mock offense at the accusation.

Another silence settles between them.

“We should get some sleep,” Demetri says finally, rubbing Eli’s back. “Weren’t we going to get up at 7?”

“Eh, fuck that.”

“Fine. 9, then. That should give us a good 4 hours of shut-eye.”

Eli groans. “Do we have to? Can’t we leave at 10? We’re going to sleep like shit.”

“You know we need to get out of here before desert cops or cranky ranchers come and tell us to leave, Eli. I don’t want to get some vague ticket written entirely in Spanish.”

“Still don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘desert cops,’ but fine.”

To Demetri’s surprise, Eli nestles even closer, grip tightening.

“Can you hold me?” he murmurs into Demetri’s neck. “Don’t let go. Just…hold me until the morning.”

Demetri looks down at the boy wrapped around him, and his heart gives out for about the 7th time that day alone. “Yeah. Of course. You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Eli, come on.”

“Maybe I don’t want to, idiot.” Eli has his shirt in a death grip, and Demetri isn’t complaining. He tugs what blankets he can over both of them, and quickly changes his alarm on his phone.

Demetri laughs softly. “Like old times, isn’t it?”

There were more than a few times Eli’s bladder gave out on his “waterbed,” and Demetri had to pull his crying best friend into his own bed after he’d showered off. Many a night Demetri had dozed off still hugging him, and the two had woken up with their forms entangled.

Eli hums. “I guess so. I’ll try not to piss on you this time.”

“Thanks. Appreciate it.”

Demetri lets out his breath, finally allowing the numbing exhaustion of the night to catch up with him. The only coherent thought he can form as he drifts off is that when he and Eli are pressed together like this, he’s never felt more whole.

He only hopes it can last.

[witchy-jadda]

rott spoilers ahead

so i’ve given myself some time to think about everything and try to process it all and here are some of my thoughts on trollhunters: rise of the titans...

- straight off the bat, i loved the intro. opening with blinky telling the story of what happened up until this point was incredible. i would have loved if they had circled back to this though (i saw someone else say it should have been him telling the story to jim and claire’s kids and i loved that idea!)

- i also liked that they didn’t waste time at the start, instead they just jumped right into the action which was fun.

- honestly, i thought jim’s plotline throughout the movie where he basically thought he was useless without the amulet was just really not fun to watch. i understand why it was there and it played into the climax but i really did not find it one bit necessary seeing as i felt that we have grown beyond that. i felt it was overused. we’ve been there before and jim is aware that he’s the trollhunter, amulet or not.

- douxie being so soft with nari was genuinely one of the most heartwarming parts of the movie. i feel that we were really robbed of so much potential with douxie in this movie though. we didn’t see nearly enough of him. it seemed that the writers were picking and choosing when to remember how powerful he is. switching with nari and connecting to her are two examples of when they actually used his power, but aside from that they just disregarded it a lot.

- and speaking of forgetting how powerful people are... i’m genuinely so hurt and let down over what they did to claire. do they not realise how powerful she is? did they just forget about her character arc? it sure felt like it. she got to use her powers a few times (connecting to nari, portalling the titan, etc) but mostly it felt like she was saying she was spent and therefore unable to do anything. she is so strong and so powerful, and that’s just so empowering - especially for young girls. and then it kinda felt to me that rott was reducing her to basically nothing more than jim’s love interest.

- okay another quick note, it kinda felt to me that krel’s potential was also pretty wasted? he barely did anything and i just think he deserved more too.

- ew okay i don’t even want to think about it but i know i can’t discuss rott without talking about the mpreg thing. seriously, what the fuck was that? at first, i thought it was going to be a joke. i thought aja and krel were gonna wind steve up and see how far they could go with making him think he was pregnant just for a little bit of comic relief. but then he was actually pregnant. and so i laughed, because even though it was dumb it was kind of funny. weird and unexpected, but kind of funny. but by the time the movie was over it just didn’t sit right with me. looking past the fact that it was just more of them making steve’s character into a joke, i couldn’t see the logic in giving so much time to that subplot when other characters (claire, douxie) and other relationships (claire and douxie’s friendship) were sidelined. maybe if he had gotten a whole season the mpreg thing could have been included as comic relief or whatever, but with such limited time i really don’t see the point of wasting so much time on something so pointless. 

- speaking of steve, i need to talk about creepslayerz... they really deserved more :( like i get that eli literally helped steve through child birth and then named one after him which was lowkey adorable but i loved their friendship so much and i was really hoping to see more of them. i was kind of hoping they’d get to do more as well. look i gave up on hopes of a romance long ago (even though i still really wished it would happen) but i hoped that at least we’d see some more of their friendship.

* by this point my brain has decided to forget absolutely every point i wanted to make... cue the brain fog (we don’t like her) and allow me to take a moment to read back and try to find my point again *

- i don’t think i can stress enough how much i loved the visuals in this movie. holy fucking shit it was just phenomenal. like wow. the art was absolutely fantastic and i’m really hoping for another the art of... book because i love the art of trollhunters and i feel that they could do with updating it to include the newer stuff. but yep, the animation quality was incredible and i don’t have a bad thing to say about it because just wow.

- speaking of art... a moment of appreciation for character designs. just wow wow wow. we love to see such intricately designed villains. we love to see growth in our other much loved characters. and the locations too? fantastic. beautiful. amazing. loved it.

- another moment of appreciation for jim. the hair. the scars. the injuries. the winter jacket. the fact that he looked a little older.... loved it. loved it, loved it, loved it. i cannot wait to spend hours pouring over reference pictures to draw them all.

- and claire... her armor being weathered and worn. her eyes!! her hair looked great as always. i just love her...

- nari nari nari... my goodness, her magic is so beautiful. i wish we got to see more.

- also, the jlaire moments were very cute. their kisses? so soft. they literally love each other so much. i adore them.

- what happened to the babies from the darklands btw? is not enrique just chilling in the lake’s house with a ton of babies? 

- barbara deserved better. i would have liked to see her and strickler happy.

- on that note, why the actual fuck did they think a few explosives would win against magic?? literal ancient magic and these dumbasses were like huh i guess we should blow it up. i’m sorry, what?? y’all are stupid.

* currently trying to think of every possible point that isn’t to do with the ending because i really don’t want to think about that yet *

- the whole thing with archie and charlemagne felt super unnecessary. like usually characters sacrifice themselves and it’s like sad and you can see the reasoning and stuff. but they literally could have gotten out. i really did not vibe with that. it felt like they just did that to leave douxie with no one.

- that trollmarket was beautiful though.

- speaking of trollmarket... they really restored the heartstone just like that? are you joking? i was not impressed at all. the heartstone was dead and gone, could not be destroyed. did they just forget that? half the shit in wizards wouldn’t have happened if the heartstone could have been restored. very pissed off by that. it was dead, that was it.

- okay back to jim... love that he pulled the sword from the stone. it was cute that it was a group effort, kinda would have preferred if it was just him but that’s just a me thing. and maybe me and my daylight tattoo are biased here, but excalibur is not half as pretty as daylight.

- not gonna lie, jim yelling come on trollhunters! kinda got me. i was very emotional watching this.

- i think the most in character jim moment of the whole movie was when he dropped excalibur, he didn’t have his armor, he was all alone and he decided to make a fist and fight the wizard/god with literally no weapon or means of defence. i don’t think y’all understand how much i love this dumb self sacrificing selfless boy. i’ve said it before and i’ll say it again, he is literally one of my most favourite characters of all time. i love him with all my heart.

- the armor!! wow wow wow. that was a fucking cool scene. beautiful.

- jim getting stabbed or whatever with that fucking spear thing nearly killed me.

- okay here goes... toby. my sweet toby. jim and toby’s friendship is one of my absolute favourites ever. my goodness. and toby getting in the van and going to save jim was incredible and such a toby thing to do. of course he would think of doing that.

- but like seriously... claire and douxie are so fucking powerful and they were both just like lol i guess we can’t do anything to help jim? i’m sorry what?? don’t tell me that claire wouldn’t go full on black and purple eyes and get herself up their to him. i just... i’m so bothered by the fact that they were sidelined y’all :|

- also, do not seriously try to tell me that aaarrrgghh!!! would let toby go on his own. he would have went with him. he would have followed him.

- literally as jim was falling the first thing that went through my mind was oh aaarrrgghh!!! is gonna run up and catch him.

- and while we’re on the topic of aaarrrgghh!!! why tf did they have such a build up that something was going to happen to either him or blinky for literally no reason? wtf

- aaarrrgghh!!! would not have let toby go alone!!! if he had been there, he would have protected toby, he would have saved him and none of that mess of an ending would have happened.

* ugh here’s the bit i was dreading... the ending *

- first off, i am choosing to ignore it.

- time stone? really? we’re... we’re gonna do this? literally one of the most original things i have ever watched is now - at the literal last possible minute - rip off another movie?? really?? whyyyy???

- i literally cannot express how much i hated it. it was so fucking unnecessary.

- he didn’t need to go back that far!!!

- i’m actually trying to block this out but i suppose i have to at least touch on it. jim would never ever put that burden on to toby. he just wouldn’t. before even looking at all of the other issues with toby getting the amulet, i need to say that. it just wouldn’t happen. he struggled so much with being the trollhunter, he wouldn’t put that on toby. 

- also toby literally never wanted to be the trollhunter?? he never wanted the amulet? he wanted to be a duke and have his war hammer and go on adventures with his best friend and his wingman and eat mexican food.

- okay so um i guess they all just forgot about unbecoming? cool cool cool.

- seriously though, was it not established many times that jim literally had to be trollhunter? and if he wasn’t it would be draal and everything would go to shit? did they just forget about that??

- having jim just decide to give toby the amulet literally takes away from the entire meaning behind jim getting the amulet and becoming the trollhunter. the amulet chose jim. merlin chose him. out of all of the creatures in the world, it had to be jim. he can’t just give that to toby!!

- and as much as i love toby, he would not last a day as trollhunter.

- and that’s not even beginning to mention all that jim erased by not becoming trollhunter. no father son relationship between him and blinky. they didn’t stop steve from picking on eli so no steve redemption and no creepslayerz. is he just going to allow enrique to be taken? toby will not have the same incentive to go into the darklands to save him if that’s the case. strickler will not show any sort of sentiment towards toby either. and then the big one...

- IS THAT FUCKER REALLY GOING TO ALLOW CLAIRE TO NOT GET HER POWERS??? WHAT???

- if jim isn’t trollhunter and the whole thing with enrique doesn’t happen then claire will never get her shadowstaff. let’s be real, strickler probably wouldn’t even need angor rot with toby as trollhunter. somehow i can’t see him making it that far...

- if claire doesn’t have her shadow staff then the whole thing with morgana won’t happen. she won’t destroy the shadow staff and then she will never develop her powers. would jim really rob her of that?

- okay i can’t do anymore, it’s too much for me now...

- i touched on this already in a separate post but i gotta say it again... i did not enjoy the destiny is a gift bit at the end. first of all, jim having toby find the amulet literally takes the meaning of that speech and his destiny away instanty. and second, i just could not stand hearing emile hirsch say the words that belonged to anton yelchin. it was just uncomfortable.

aaand i think i’m done. maybe i’ll have more later but i have a headache now from all of this.

[lesserfandomappreciation]

Is that Supa Strikers show really that great? Would I like it even if I don’t like soccer/football? (I’m asking because I’ve never seen it. In fact, your posts are the only reason I know it exists at all.)

Okay. Okay, okay I was going to work on requests during this meeting but then I saw this and I have many feelings on this show so you're getting an essay. Buckle up son. Brief History

For those not in the know, Supa Strikas is a series from South Africa that started as a futbol-themed comic in I want to say the early 2000s. It quickly gained popularity throughout most of Africa and today is published in Latin-America, South America, Africa, some parts of Europe and Asia.

Almost every continent has this comic. You cannot tell me that isn't cool and also very telling of how many people like this series.

Seeing the comic get so popular so fast, a TV show followed up in 2009 by the same name and is still going to this day. This series has been along longer than most presidential terms.

The show had a similar story with only slight character changes, and while the entirety of the 2021 season is already out, there are signs that they may be more coming out in 2022 so. Fingers crossed!

What is it about?

The story centers around Shakes, a young futbol player who has recently joined the Supa Strikas, a team based in an unspecified African country. The comic follows the team winning the Super League during different seasons, going around the world to find out new techniques, deal with teams that cheat and overcome their own inner problems as well.

The series differs from the comics in that we don't see Shakes' journey to becoming a Supa Strika and we don't get the official names for the characters either, only their nicknames. Wikipedia has their official names listed I think, but if anyone whose read the comics wishes to tell me, by all means do so.

It's a pretty straight forward storyline, with some good story consistency (characters who appear in one episode do show up again and are given consistent writing). Very episodic.

Why should I watch the series?

The series is fun. Sincerely, un-apologetically fun.

The main characters get good screen time and we get to see some fun, decently written personalities that act off each other well. The Supa Strikas is a team of himbos but different varieties of himbos and I love them for it. You do get the feeling that this is a group of people that cares for each other, not a group of characters just shoved together because the series said so.

The side-characters are also great. Some of them are a little one-note but many of them are just as crazy, if not more fun, than the main characters of the show. There's an American dude named Ninja whose entire gimmick is that he's a reality star fame-seeking dude straight out of Las Vegas and I love him. He's one of the tamer character concepts.

Coach. That is all.

There's a vast array of diverse representation. While the Supa Strikas team is the only team is they only team of mixed nationalities (South African, Jamaican, Brazilian, Spanish, etc) every team is representing a different country. There's a Brazilian Team, a Mexican Team, a Saudi Arabian Team and many others.

In connection - the Supa Strikas have players from around the world. Dancing Rasta is Jamaican, the captain of the team, an incredibly competent leader and very down-to-earth. You do have players that are a little stereotypical (North Shaw is an Australian who loves extreme sports, shocker) but are written in ways that you find yourself not minding.

It's funny. There's a lot of good moments both in writing and in the animation. As someone who got to study animation, I can say without a shadow of doubt that the team behind the character animations had no fear in pushing what they can do and making the characters feel fun.

Some of the stereotypes used in the show are used well and are written in a fairly respectful way. El Matador, a Spanish player, fills the stereotype of being a self-absorbed Spaniard. but he's also written to care for friends and to be very competent in other areas. Plus, there are other Spanish characters like Riano that are nothing like that and have distinctly different personalities. As a Spaniard, I found this to be a good writing choice. These jokes are seen less as insults and more like friendly barbs between most countries and it doesn't detract from the show.

The technology. It's a running gag that the tech used to train the guys is progressively more outrageous.

No forced romance storylines! There's no character moment where boy meets girl and then we're stuck watching this inevitable couple find reasons to not be a couple. It's nice to not have the forced hetero-normative relationships we see in a lot of other shows.

To that end, fantastic healthy male friendships! There's no "no homo" moment and the characters all have very good chemistry. Again, you feel like they're actually friends. They all have different dynamics too, so the friendships don't feel uniform and stale.

Good emotional moments.

Bromances for the win! Genuinely shocked there's not more fandom for it considering the sheer quantity of POSSIBILITIES of bromances and potential ships to work with.

It's 100% fine if you don't know anything about futbol. The show shows literally what matters, not every single little throw-in, and most times there's some world-breaking nonsense going on that distracts from that. There's literally an episode where the opposing team changes gravity on the the field to try and beat the Supa Strikas, the rules barely matter. I promise you, you don't need to know what "Offsides" means in order to watch.

The commentators. I love them both.

The episodes are varied in stories. There's ones about training, ones about exploring a different country, others where the opponents cheat, etc. There's an episode which is almost a murder mystery and I love it.

All the episodes can be found free online on Youtube on the official channel for the show. I love this creative team so much.

There's a lot of good writing choices!

What might I not like about the show?

Some people like episodic shows, some don't. For those in the latter category this may drive them away from Supa Strikas.

There's like. 4 female characters. I can see why they did that, but I can also see why that is upsetting (speaking as a woman who is very tired of the Smurfette principle). The humor may not be for everyone. That's more based on personality, because I think there's something for everyone, but there are jokes that I recognize fall quite flat.

In connection to that, the stereotypes. Like I mentioned earlier, the show utilizes and breaks some stereotypes very well. There's a character (Spenza) who is written to be the chubby comic relief that is also 9/10 times the guy who saves LITERALLY EVERYONE from trouble and gets recognized for it, for example. However, the entire Japanese team is a karate-based team with a Coach named Ura Giri who wears Chinese clothes despite being Japanese. The German team is just a military branch and, while funny, might be offensive depending on which German you ask. It can be detracting from the show.

There's some bad writing choices that can be rough, but they are episode centric.

What should I do?

Watch the show. Give it 2-3 episodes and if it doesn't grab you, okay! You tried! If it does, welcome! it's literally for free on youtube, Seasons 1 through the last number I can't remember. I watch it when I'm working on something because it's fun and gets me to laugh, you might watch it with a bowl of popcorn. Just do your own thing!

If you do like it though, come back, hit me up with talks and questions about it. Besides multydoodles I haven't found a lot of people who really are into it so come! Join us! One of us!

Hope this mini-essay helped out and that the show works out for you!