#has become very important for most companies. For instance

[sujathaks]

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[takerfoxx]

I'm so fucking confused what did the Rock do

It's a very long and complicated tale, but the short version, the Rock recently joined the board of directors for TKO (WWE's parent company) and SEEMINGLY (as we don't know the full behind the scenes story just yet) used his clout to push himself into the Wrestlemania main event, challenging his sort of cousin Roman Reigns for the WWE Universal Championship and pushing aside Cody Rhodes, the guy that was supposed to be Roman's challenger, and thereby sabotaging a two-year story that everyone was invested in right when it was about to see it's conclusion. And people are pissed about it.

That's the short version. Here is the loooooonnnnnggggg version.

WWE has been plagued by a number of issues over the years (not the least being that it's been run by an actual rapist for the last four decades), but the two relevant issues is a tendency to rely on past their prime stars of yesterday at the expense of building new stars for today, and when they do want to build a new star, they have a bad habit of shoving their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat to everyone else's detriment in a nakedly inauthentic manner until the fans get sick of them (see: Ultimate Warrior, John Cena, and, most recently, Roman Reigns, who will become important later). Needless to say, they've had a lot of trouble getting the crowd behind what is known as the White Meat Babyface, or primary good guy.

The Rock started off as the latter, being introduced as Rocky Maivia, who was a wholesome good boy who was just so happy to be here. People saw through it and booed the fuck out of him. In rare case of the WWE actually listening and responding, they turned Rocky heel and let him vent his frustrations at the fans, which let everyone know that, holy shit, this guy is actually insanely charismatic and probably the best trash talker in the business! Thus, the Rock was born.

However, while he certainly earned his accolades during his heyday, his returns since haven't been so universally admired (see previous note about the WWE pushing the stars of yesterday). One instance about ten years ago involves him main eventing Wrestlemania against John Cena over CM Punk, who was the reigning WWE Champion at the time, and was quite annoyed. Okay, the Rock vs. John Cena could be excused on account of being that much of a dream match, but then they had CM Punk end his year long title run to the Rock so he and Cena could main event again, this time with the title on the line. This was one of the many issues that reportedly led to CM Punk walking out a few months later.

Now, let's move away from the Rock for a bit and talk about Roman Reigns, who was another example of the WWE ramming their chosen golden boy down everyone's throat. Like the Rock, he is part of the venerated Anoa'i Family, who are practically wrestling royalty with how many superstars they've produced (though they're not actually related by blood, but that doesn't matter, as those who marry or are adopted in are still considered full members of the clan).

Roman began as part of the massively popular trio known as the Shield, alongside Seth Rollins and Dean Ambrose. And during their two year run, the Shield were kind of incredibly awesome. Three badasses closer than brothers just wrecking a path of destruction against all those who stood in their way, a perfect combination of violence and genuine comradery...right until Seth Rollins betrayed the group and they all became single stars.

Now, despite the WWE having high hopes for all three, Roman was clearly the anointed heir, despite being the least experienced of the three. Unfortunately, they went about this by making him essentially a John Cena clone. Smelling another corporate babyface about to be shoved down their throats, the fans turned on him and turned on him HARD, making him the most loathed face in wrestling for years despite always being treated by the company as a beloved hero. Finally, the decision was made to turn Roman Reigns heel, unleashing his dark side and turning him into the Tribal Chief, a sadistic and manipulative monster who's held an iron grip on the title for literally years. Needless to say, it has been a massive improvement, and he is now quite awesome (though people are sick of how long he's been champion, but that's neither here nor there).

Anyway, heel Roman has been champion for basically forever at this point, and it's been a question of who will eventually be the one to dethrone him, because whoever it is automatically becomes the biggest star in the business. And given what an accomplishment that is, there really can be no place it can happen other than the main event of Wrestlemania.

Enter Cody Rhodes.

Like Roman and the Rock, Cody also comes from a prestigious wrestling family. Cody is the son of the late, great Dusty Rhodes, the American Dream. And this pedigree has weighed heavily on him, both in and out of storyline.

Now, unlike his plain-looking and tubby father, Cody looks like he was grown in a lab to become the perfect WWE wrestler. Movie star looks, an absolutely ripped body, and physical charisma for days. Despite this, his first WWE run didn't go how he wanted. While he saw a fair amount of success, he never seemed to break out of the midcard and was eventually saddled with the loathed Stardust gimmick, which he absolutely hated, and after realizing that things weren't going to change, he decided to bet on himself and leave the WWE to prove everyone wrong.

This ended up working beyond anyone's wildest dreams.

To say that Cody was successful post WWE would be a gross understatement. Rebranding himself as the American Nightmare, Cody became the opposite of everything his father was, dressing in snappy suits and carrying himself in an arrogant, sadistic manner. He worked for a number of places, from TNA to Ring of Honor to New Japan, and saw massive success, winning multiple titles across multiple promotions and building himself as a force to be reckoned with. He was also the impetus for the historically significant All In event, in which a number of wrestlers from a number of different promotions banded together to put on the first non-WWE show to have over ten thousand people in attendance in over twenty years, which eventually led to the creation of AEW, which Cody was an intrinsic part of as well. Needless to say, Cody was cooking.

Unfortunately, his own way of doing things didn't mesh well with the AEW audience, and they turned on him pretty hard after a year or two. Eventually he left to return to the WWE, and a lot of people questioned if he was making a mistake, given how he was treated the last time.

However, his gamble had paid off. His worth had been proved, and now WWE was all in (pun intended) on Cody Rhodes. In contrast to the volatile AEW crowd, the WWE fans welcomed the prodigal son back with open arms. And surprising all cynics (including myself), this love continued strong even after the novelty of Cody Rhodes back wore off, probably bolstered by how carefully his storylines were plotted, some truly killer performances in the ring, and the respect garner by him being an absolutely fucking champ and wrestling Seth Rollins in a Hell in a Cell match despite having a horribly torn pec.

Finally, the WWE had a White Meat babyface that the fans universally accepted and wanted to see more of, and they were going to capitalize. He won the Royal Rumble to rapturous applause and entered in a program with Roman Reigns to challenge him for his title at Wrestlemania. And unlike other challengers, he actually seemed like a credible threat. Much was made about how his father had also challenged for the same title but could never capture it, so he wanted to do what his father couldn't and finish the story. People were behind Cody all the way, and the time seemed right for Roman to finally fall and a new top star to be crowned.

And then Cody lost. Roman cheated, and Cody lost.

Needless to say, people were pissed. However, others said that maybe this was leading to a rematch at the following year's Wrestlemania, making his eventual victory all the sweeter. Certainly, WWE still seemed behind Cody, as he spent the next year in several high profile feuds that kept him looking strong, including going over Brock Lesnar of all people. And again, the fans remained behind him, when in past cases they would have turned on the guy by now. Believe me, this hadn't happened in a very long time.

But not all was well. There were rumbles that the Rock might be queuing up for a return one of these days, possibly to finally face Roman Reigns in another dream match to settle who the true Tribal Chief of the Anoa's family. People had been wanting that match for years, but for it to happen now, upsetting Cody's chance to finally finish his story? Well, that was the worst possible time. However, these rumors seemed to be nothing more than that. Just rumors.

And then CM Punk came back.

Now, Punk is a whole can of worms all in himself, and could easily fill a full post of his own. But the important thing is that he and Cody are very much dark reflections of each other, especially in how both were screwed over by WWE during their first runs, left under dark circumstances, and returned to the fans' adoration. And they both coveted that Wrestlemania main event.

In fact, during an awesome promo battle between the two, Punk specifically pointed out that he intended to do to Cody what the Rock had done to him ten years ago: be that bigger star who came back after not being around for a long time and take that Wrestlemania main event away. And sure enough, during the Royal Rumble, the final two in the ring were CM Punk and Cody Rhodes.

And Cody won. The first man in years to win back to back Rumbles. He singled out Roman Reigns as his target, cementing their Wrestlemania rematch. As for Punk, he had a main event of his own, as he was apparently scheduled to face Seth Rollins for the World Heavyweight Title at night 1 of Wrestlemania. It seemed that both of the prodigal sons were getting their wish!

And then CM Punk got hurt really bad and had to pull out of Wrestlemania.

Well, that sucks, but it shouldn't upset plans too badly. Seth could just wrestle someone else, and Cody's two year story could proceed like everyone wanted.

Well, we all know what happened next.

Yup. It happened. The Rock, likely with the backing of his new position on the TKO's board, had pushed himself into Cody's spot, while Cody (as it appears) will be replacing Punk to take on Seth Rollins instead. A two year story, flushed down the drain. Punk's words had turned out to be prophetic.

And while the fans were cheering in that video, once the buzz had worn off and people realized what had happened, that's when things got nasty. Over the last few days, people have turned on the Rock and turned on him HARD. Rocky sucks chants fill WWE events, #wewantcody trends for days, videos of the Rock get booed, and (unfortunately) even members of his family have gotten caught in the crossfire. People are NOT happy about this direction. Cody is their guy, and right when his story was going to be completed, right when Roman was going to be dethroned by the guy that everyone wanted to see beat him, this happens.

Plus, since then reports have been swirling that this decision was made by the TKO board, not WWE, with the Rock specifically pushing for it to "Save Wrestlemania." Which hasn't exactly warmed people to the idea.

Which is really funny, because the last time Roman Reigns and the Rock shared a ring together, it was in the middle of Roman's disastrous babyface run where the fans hated him, especially in Philadelphia, a city noted for its rebellious fans, and the WWE sent the Rock out to help Roman in hopes of changing their minds.

It didn't work.

And where is Wrestlemania this year? Oh right, Philadelphia.

This is going to be...interesting, to say the least.

[justporo]

Astarion doesn't know how, but he's somehow become a cat dad of Baulder's gate.

One of them has been catnapped by a new bad guy.

And he's about to go John Wick on their asses.

(spawn or ascended, dealers choice)

Oh, I love this idea but I gotta be honest with you I kinda struggle with writing something for the last part. But! How about I give you something about how Astarion becomes - unwillingly - the friend of Baldur's Gate's street cats? This is not proof read, just a headsup!

Unlike friends

Astarion didn't know exactly why it was specifically cats but out of all animals felines were the most relaxed around the vampire. Maybe it was because they acknowledged a fellow predator and his skills. Or maybe it was the similar independence of will, the spark of chaos that lay at the core - always ready to lash out and wreak a little havoc.

Already on your adventures, whenever there had been a cat they were often found in close proximity to the vampire, stroking around his legs in an attentive posture, rubbing their little heads against Astarion’s shins as if greeting an old fellow. Once a cat had even dared to jump on the rogue’s lap at one of the inn's you had stayed at. And had been lucky enough to be graced with Astarion’s careful, skillful caresses: his long fingers finding that spot under the chin to scrub it, long, slow pats along the spine, scratching behind warm, fluffy ears. The purring could have probably been heard a mile away.

The vampire usually tried to not let it show but he enjoyed the instances of coming across one of graceful creatures. For two hundred years of hunting in the dark, felines - from feral veterans that seemed to rule the streets of Baldur’s Gate at night to lazy housecats out on the occasional stroll - had always been delightful and often the only company on his late night hunts.

And Astarion admired the small animals for their common determination, proudness, stubbornness and independence - sentiments he felt very much inclined to.

And so after the vampire had settled down with you in Baldur's Gate, it came to happen that he - unwillingly - became a patron of the city's street cats.

Bringing home a forsaken kitten to take it in and give it a place to lounge on a warm pillow and be fed to grow up strong and healthy had merely proven Astarion’s first action.

Because when one night he sat in the small garden of your joint townhouse with the night-blooming flowers you had so graciously planted all throughout the small plot fenced in by brick walls and an overgrown iron fence, there was a visitor.

Astarion was enjoying a book by lantern light, a cup of wine next to him as he noticed her first out of the corner of his eye and immediately turned his head. With his heightened vampiric senses he saw a small black cat, crouching close to the ground, half hidden by a bush in one corner of the garden. The glinting green eyes were the only thing really visible of the small feline hunter in the dark. A human would have surely noticed the creature.

Being intrigued by the cat’s presence he observed her moving ever so slowly along the edge of the garden. It was quite obvious the feline was on a hunt.

And as someone who understood the importance of undisturbed stealth and stalking the vampire remained utterly still where he sat, merely observing. His ruby eyes flicked around, trying to find the supposed target. And he had to bite back a hiss when he saw that it was a fat rat - almost as indistinguishable in the dark as the cat -  that sat in a seemingly empty flower pot: munching away on some seeds you had only just planted.

The cat prowled closer, paws moving slowly and silently and her whole body still crouched impossibly low to the ground. She neared the oblivious rat still munching away on some flower seeds. Then the feline readied herself to pounce, tip-tapping her soft paws in anticipation. She pounced.

There was hissing, clambering, clanking. The pot got knocked over. And even Astarion was barely even able to notice that the rat sped away and quickly wiggled away through some hole in one of the brickwalls. The cat went after it, trying to claw at it by sticking her front leg through the opening but it was already too late.

WIth another and this time very frustrated hiss the cat sat up again. She shook herself and then began to lick her paw while her tail swished around in annoyance.

Astarion smiled to himself as he observed the scene.

“Not every hunt can be successful, dear”, he said and grabbed the chalice of wine to take a sip. The cat’s head snapped around, green eyes immediately finding the source of disturbance.

She hissed again. Astarion huffed slightly.

“I merely pointed out the obvious. There will be another rat - there always is”, the vampire said with a grin towards the cat that narrowed her slitted eyes at him. Then he went back to his book.

The small furry creature though wasn’t done with the conversation though and slowly crept closer towards the vampire reclined on the chair reading.

Astarion who was now focused again on his reading again didn’t even notice. Itn was only when a raspy meow was uttered directly in front of him, that he put down his book again in surprise.

The small black cat was sitting in front of him now, tail still darting around in annoyance. In the lantern light it was now visible that the cat’s ear was chewed on and a stroke of scars crossing her eyes gave off the look of a seasoned fighter.

She gave another meow - raspy and very loud.

Astarion looked at the small angry critter in front of him.

“You’re not making me responsible for your loss, are you?”

(Meow!)

“Well, you’re not going to make a catch when you sit here meowing at me.”

(Meow!)

And with that the cat moved to forcefully rub her head against Astarion’s leg while aggressively starting to purr.

The vampire was taken aback, not really sure what to do with the random affectionate outburst. He just looked at the - rather small, as he now realised - feline wandering around his legs and positively headbutting him.

Then a thought sprung to his mind and he quickly jumped up, by that causing the cat to meow in protest. But Astarion had already thrown down the book and had went inside.

He’d remembered that there was some leftover cooked fish from your dinner.

“You’re done with this fish, yes darling?”, he screamed into the void of the house. You were dozing in the bathtub and didn’t even notice anyway.

He quickly put some of the leftovers in a bowl and some water in another before he went back outside.

The small street cat was still there, waiting begrudgingly and immediately hissing at the vampire as he came back.

“I’m doing something nice for you and that’s how I’m getting rewarded?” Astarion scolded the cat while putting down the two bowls in front of her. He clicked his tongue and then motioned towards the two bowls while settling down again, grabbing his cup of wine.

“Go on then! No need to complain anymore.”

The feline just slowly blinked at him. Then she sniffed at the bowl while eyeing the elf in front of her with suspicion in her glowing green eyes.

Meanwhile the vampire tried to act casually, opening up his book again but out of the corner of his eyes carefully observing the feral creature. And finally she indulged: gobbling up the leftover fish which probably was as much as a gourmet dinner for a street cat like her.

The street cat enjoyed her gratuitous meal while the vampire softly smiled to himself and returned to his reading.

When the cat was done, she licked over her snout profusely, spared the vampire a last glance and quick as an arrow darted off. Astarion had only been able to catch a black tail disappearing over a brick wall and clicked his tongue. “Not even a thank you, ungrateful little thing”, he said to himself but still smiled softly as he grabbed both empty bowls and carried them inside.

There he was met with your confused look as you walked into the kitchen while still toweling off your wet hair.

“Did you develop a sudden taste for fish?”, you asked your vampire with some suspicion. But Astarion just smirked at you.

“No, but a new friend maybe did.”

You frowned at him but let it slide for the time being.

-

Several days later Astarion had grabbed another book from his large pile of newly bought literature and with a chalice of wine in hand was just getting ready to take up his seat in the small garden. When he opened the door though he was startled.

A whole bunch of cats was sitting and strolling through the little garden - some seemed to be playfully chasing each other round, some were lurking from atop the brick walls or shyly hidden away in the bushes with only their eyes visible.

In the front sat the little black rascal Astarion immediately recognised. She cocked her small head at him, the chewed off ear twitching softly. She offered one of her rough meows. And quickly some of the others joined.

Soon all cats in the backyard were focused on the startled vampire who seemed rooted in place at the entrance to the garden. Some crept closer, starting to stroke around his legs as Astarion simply kept watching.

“Tav, darling?”, the pale elf screamed out towards the inside of the house. And alarmed by the tinge of panic in his voice you quickly came over and peeked over his shoulder with your mouth forming into a big “O”. Immediately, the street cats also started meowing at you, walking over to you standing behind Astarion and rubbing their heads against your legs.

“Well, Astarion - looks like you’ve made more than just one new friend.”

[our-flag-means-love]

by popular demand (aka the 63 people who voted "yes" in my poll (six months ago oops) for whether or not i should do this)

here's why ofmd is a romcom, beat by beat

so for the purposes of this analysis, the ten stages outlined in this article are what i'm using for reference.

(and for the sake of everyone's dashes, i've added a cut because This Got Long. like, genuinely, 1.6k and 24 images. you've been warned.)

1. Unfulfilled Desire: something important is missing from the love interests' lives.

before the love interests meet, both of their lives are lacking in some way, often in a way they hardly realize. and this unfulfilled desire doesn't have to be romantic love in and of itself, and quite often it's not. and the things missing from ed and stede's lives are not romantic love. not at first.

what stede's missing is skill and structure. to put it bluntly, he has no idea what the fuck he's doing as a pirate, and without the guidance of someone more experienced, he'd likely get himself and his whole crew killed soon.

meanwhile, what ed's missing is interest. he's just about as bored with his life as anyone can be. every day is the same, and he needs something new—a new environment, a new challenge—to bring the spark back into his life.

2. Meet-Cute: the love interests meet, and at first, their personalities clash.

now, granted... in most meet-cutes, one of the protagonists isn't like three-quarters dead and nearly unconscious. but, as we know, ofmd is not like most shows.

but when we fast forward a bit to their real proper first meeting, we can quickly start to see how their personalities differ. in many meet-cutes, the love interests start off on bad terms, but in ofmd it's more of a contrast than a real clash, as stede and ed take a liking to each other right away.

in their very first conversation, stede is self-conscious and fretting, while ed is relaxed as can be. and as they talk, ed is in awe of stede's eccentricities, and stede is in awe of ed's powerful reputation.

and nothing exemplifies their contrast better than what they spend the rest of the episode doing—literally switching clothes and switching roles, getting a taste of what it would be like to be each other.

3. Happy Together: the love interests spend time together and grow to enjoy each other's company.

the classic honeymoon phase—not necessarily denoting romance yet, just a bond that continues to grow stronger the more time they spend together.

one of their first, biggest bonding events, just a few days after they met, is of course the fancy french party. while the night ends in disaster, the two end up much closer after the experiences they shared.

however, i think by far the best example of this stage is the montage at the beginning of episode 6, narrated by none other than my favorite (derogatory) terrible little rat man, izzy hands, who will become relevant soon. in romcoms, this stage is often shown through montages, so it only makes sense that that would be a great demonstration of it here as well.

4. Obstacles Arise: the love interests' original lives and obligations catch back up with them.

it's no longer possible to avoid the hard truths their happiness let them ignore. while both ed and stede go through this, i think stede goes through it differently and at different, non-linear times, so i'll talk about him first.

the pre-edward life that stede has been forcing to the back of his mind is, quite obviously, his wife and children back on land. and he's done a very effective job of ignoring it while he's been around ed.

he was fretting about it before—like in episode 2 with nigel's guilt ghost—but it doesn't seem to fully hit him again until he learns in episode 9 that he'd been declared dead. (in my opinion, the dreams/flashbacks in episode 4 feel less about stede's guilt, specifically, than these other instances do. but even if they are, that's still before he properly met ed.) so he does go through this stage, but it happens in slightly different ways and at different times.

ed, on the other hand, has a very specific and concrete obligation that catches up with him: a promise he made two weeks ago.

this is where izzy comes in. just as mary is the personified symbol of stede's old life, izzy is the equivalent for ed. whether ed initially intended to follow through on the plan or only said it to placate izzy is up for debate (and my personal take is that it's somewhere in between, but that's a story for another time), but izzy is going to hold him to it regardless.

and when ed can't bring himself to do it, because of both his growing feelings for stede and his trauma around killing people himself, izzy is determined to carry out the act for him.

5. The Journey: the love interests face and overcome the obstacles together.

what better way to overcome adversity than by getting thumbtacked to a mast by the same Very Angy Little Guy who's the source of the adversity in the first place? with izzy banished, the biggest obstacle to ed and stede's love is out of the way (for now).

stede still hasn't overcome his big obstacle, of course, but as i said, that happens very non-linearly with regard to the romcom structure.

the two also overcome other minor obstacles, like their bickering during the treasure hunt adventure. the key is that they face what's in their path and settle into a new normal with each other.

6. New Obstacles: despite solutions seeming effective, more hardships arise.

the next big issue thrown into ed and stede's relationship has a name, and its name is calico jack rackham, my favorite (affectionate) dumpster fire of a man. which makes sense—after all, his sole purpose in meeting up with them was to separate them before the english navy arrived. and he does a damn effective job of it.

and even once he's gone, they're still faced with chauncey badminton, stede's near-execution, and his and ed's eventual surrender to the english. they may have escaped chauncey's wrath (for now), but they bought it at the cost of their freedom.

and on top of all of that, now they finally confess their feelings for each other and make plans to run away together, and the choice—really, stede's choice—of whether or not to go through with running off to china looms in the distance. speaking of which…

7. The Choice: the love interests have to decide if the relationship can work.

a turning point is reached, and a decision has to be made. can they go through with it? are they really the best thing for each other?

the choice stede makes here is helped along in no small part by chauncey badminton, whose encounter just solidifies the beliefs stede already held—that he abandoned his family, and that ed is better off without him.

so stede makes the choice to run.

he goes home to his family, and ed is left to return to the ship alone.

8. Crisis: the love interests—now apart—ruminate and face the consequences of their choice.

the winter of their discontent. stede has made his choice, they've separated, and they're both worse off for it.

ed is depressed, retreating to his blanket fort and writing sad songs while eating marmalade.

and meanwhile, stede is back with mary and the kids, but learns that they'd all moved on and were much happier without him around. so he's left trying to force himself back into a space where he no longer fits, and all the while he misses ed more than anything.

and of course, ed takes it one step further by going full emo kraken mode. he's so distraught about stede leaving that he too forces himself back into the shell of what people expect of him—of what he was supposed to be before he even met stede—despite not fitting there anymore.

it's obvious that without each other, they're both in pretty rough shape.

9. Epiphany: one or both of the love interests conclude that they belong together and rush to reunite.

think of this stage as the person running through the airport to reach their love interest before the flight leaves.

in ofmd, it's clear who has the epiphany, because we watch it happen in real time. stede sits down with mary and asks her how it feels to be in love, and while she describes it, all he can think of is his time with ed. he finally realizes that what he's been feeling all along is love.

once he knows this, he knows he has to leave his family again, so he can reunite with ed. he and mary stage their fuckery, and stede rows off in a dinghy bound for wherever ed is, because he knows that as long as he's with ed, he'll be happy and everything will be okay.

10. Resolution: the love interests are reunited. desires are fulfilled, and all is well.

sooo… stay tuned for october 5th, i suppose?

[thebaffledcaptain]

Musicians' Uniforms in the Revolutionary War

(Artwork by the legendary Don Troiani)

A favorite descriptor of mine states that British drummers and fifers of the Georgian era were "birds of very gay plumage throughout the whole of the 18th century," a phrase which has irrevocably rooted itself in my head whenever I think of these colorful lads. Often there is curiosity about the vibrant getup of these gents, simply because they blatantly don't fit in with the rest of their units—which happens to be precisely the point.

The reason behind these colorful coats is that musicians had to be the most stand-out members of their regiment: they functioned as the voice of the officers on the battlefield and therefore had to be easily locatable at any given time. Officers would communicate via their musicians in order to convey significant large-scale orders, such as to retreat or cease fire—orders you can imagine quick communication would be vital for—and in the fog of war it would have been difficult to pick a handful of musicians out of a sea of similarly-uniformed men-at-arms. Thus, the musicians wore the inverse colors of their regiments, with the regimental facing colors becoming the main color of the coat, and (in the case of the British army) the standard red coat color becoming the color of the facings. The fellow pictured above is a drummer from the 63rd Regiment of Foot, which was faced with "very dark green" according to the 1768 clothing warrant, and thus the green is the body color of his coat.

These uniforms were also elaborately ornamented with the regimental lace pattern, as you can see above, whereas on the coats of men-at-arms this lace was restricted to the buttonholes on the facings. The smallclothes would still generally be white or buff, matching whichever color smallclothes the men-at-arms wore, unless the regiment was faced in white or buff, in which case the smallclothes would be red so they wouldn’t be the same color as the coat. The regulations were quite specific, as you can tell, but it serves to emphasize the degree of importance the musician held in the 18th century army.

There is some debate as to whether musicians wore cocked hats or bearskins, like the drummer pictured above. Musicians were technically considered part of the grenadier company of a regiment, which is why they bear red "wings" on the shoulders of their uniform and why they often wore bearskins, but there exists evidence of them wearing cocked hats, as well, so it seems likely that depending on the regiment they could have worn either. They would be armed only with a short sword worn across the waist, as they generally were not expected to participate in actual combat. The instruments themselves also functioned as part of the uniform, in ways: the regimental drum was always painted in the facing color of the regiment, and in the case of fifers, the fife sling would also be colored according to the regimental colors—see the 22nd Regiment's "candy colored cord,” as we call it, below (as well as the red smallclothes, as they are a buff-faced regiment... featuring myself and my janky uniform on the right!).

(Photo by Jeff Bross)

As far as I know the Continental Army generally abided by these same practices, which is why you occasionally get instances of the "American redcoat": certain musicians from the Continental army wore red coats with blue facings, looking much like their British adversaries, because they came from Continental regiments faced with red. This kind of cross-army confusion did not occur with the British, however, as those regiments faced in blue were the Royal regiments, and, in accordance with this honor, the musicians of these regiments kept the standard red coat with blue facings as opposed to inverting them (they were, however, still distinguishable by their copious amounts of lacing). Just goes to show that not every red coat is a Redcoat, and not every Redcoat wears a red coat!

[rougedraconteur]

I wanted to make a separate post about all the “clickbait articles” regarding Chris Colfer and his “comments” concerning being on Glee and being told not to come out. Many folks are upset at the media coverage, and, as fans, they are outraged on his behalf on what they see. Maybe they are right.

However.

It is a hard stretch to call entertainment media actual news reporting, but there are a lot of jobs and a lot of money attached to the industry, so these things are all carefully crafted and controlled at a certain level for desired results.

First of all, let’s look at the original interview. The View is a topical news show that also purports to be about entertainment, and contains a mix of women from various backgrounds as hosts. It is part of ABC’s NEWS division, not their entertainment division, and is overseen by that department’s executives. It has won 31 Emmys, and no less a respected news source than the New York Times has called it, at one point, “the most important political TV show in America.” In 2021, The View had become the most-viewed news and talk program in daytime tv. (Wikipedia, inc. sources and references.) most importantly, Disney is the parent company, as it is the parent company for 21st Century Fox. Just getting on this show is a big deal. But Disney has all the control (and power) here.

Next, let’s look at who controlled that interview. Whoopie Goldberg runs that desk, and is the biggest draw. She is one of less than 20 living EGOTs, a Disney Legend, very respected in the industry, her Q score must be in the single digits, very high recognizability Quotient, she is recognizable and repected around the world, and appeared with Colfer in most of her scenes on Glee, which was heavily referenced in one of the clips chosen and shown in the interview. She is also a personal hero of his, in early interviews he cites his deep love of her in Sister Act as one of his inspirations to get into acting. The fact that he was able to get placement on that show for the one day he was in NYC is telling.

The clips that were shown, as well as the questions that were asked, and by whom, were all read from note cards and approved in advance. Alla, his well-respected publicist, was with him, as was his long-time agent, Rob, I am sure. They know what they are doing. They all chose together to talk about him coming out, and what he was told, and why. We feel it is all a tired rehash, but there are some slight changes in the actual WORDING, he finesses it a little more here. And it matters. This show contains seasoned interviewers, lawyers, political strategists, as well as celebrities who constantly deal with media. They know about spin, about what to ask, about when to ask it, about who asks what. Whoopie really did not ask much, yet I still felt she was entirely in control, along with Chris and his team, of this whole interview. They also know about legal lines and limits, actual news reporting standards, and what Bob Iger wants the message to be. They also know why Bob Iger wants the message to be a certain way.

Everything about that interview was very calculated, imo. Though, to most of us, I guess, it seemed like the same old rehash. But it wasn’t. For instance, he was told if he came out, it would ruin his career. But over the many years of speculation—was he outed? Was he forced into coming out, going back in, or did he choose for himself?—this is the first time I have heard him clearly say he chose this for himself, yes he was very scared, he did not know his character would be gay until he read the script, he came from a place where that was scary and dangerous, he was very young, etc.; but he acknowledged that his appearance and mannerisms and voice made it extremely hard to closet him in a believable way, so HE CHOSE to come out, though reluctantly and with some trepidation, and he included the story of the rainbow paper clip chain for his reason why, for emphasis. He WAS a debate state champion, after all, and is a seasoned writer now, he knows the power of language to shape perceptions. I have heard most all his live interviews since 2009, and I don’t think I recall that anecdote, or how memorable and sympathetic it is toward him, as a role model, which he specifically addresses as also a choice. Being a role model separated him from others in a very real way, he was a hero but also got death threats and hate mail, he required security, he was used by the show as an example of their progressiveness, but also separated from his peers in bts photos and invitations to events because he was openly gay and others could not be seen hanging out with him as it made them look gay, as well. He has said before he did not seek being a role model, for all those reasons. He is reshaping his coming out narrative regarding Fox and RIB and their roles in all this drama while still delivering an important message about the industry during Pride Month. He says if he wanted to be an action hero, he could not come out. He says he was told that.

That still holds true, for him and others, if he says too much. Conversely, if he did/does not, he would/will be rewarded, these things don’t change. This is their process, this is how it works for everyone, this is what they expect from team players, this is the industry, like it or hate it. And it does not always mean something sinister. (Although sometimes it does.)

There is a huge desire from Disney to reboot Glee in some way, it is still extremely popular on Disney+, and Dana Walden may have now found the gimmick to make that work, according to recent rumors. Now the job is to set up all the dominoes and remove any obstacles to reach that goal. And, based on that final look between Whoopie and Chris, whom she clearly adores, they understand this situation, what’s at stake, and what’s to gain here, and they expected this interview to get the results they both wanted. They, at least, delivered their end of the bargain, imo. I thought it was brilliant and subliminal and delivered a big punch for such a seemingly minor project, a new book, from a former actor. Glee, for him, was a long time ago.

The fact that Variety, an entertainment inustry trade publication, was the first to report on it, almost immediately, also matters, as does their headline. They set the tone for all the other articles, many publications of which are tied to Disney, their subsidiaries, or other major industry players with connections to that show, the showrunners, or the actors. Many of them included links back to the original interview. They want the buzz, and the reactions, to see how they read across media. Chris got a lot of coverage here because he still matters to not just his fanbase, but to the public, and to the industry, and to his community. Clickbait only works if people are interested, and this much is a crazy level of interest.

Again, Glee made BILLIONS for Fox, and Iger is looking to shore up Disney+ offerings to further entice new subscribers.

[cerastes]

Maul-A-Bear Factory: Dismantling the Big Sad Lock

Big Sad Lock -- colloquially known as That Damn Bear -- is the second final boss in Integrated Strategies 2, the Roguelite mode offered by notorious music company Hypergryph in the game they included with their music albums, Arknights. It is a stationary, large boss with special mechanics that, if the anguished voices of the ghosts of all defunct Arknights players that have fought it and failed are anything to go by, can be pretty tricky.

But fear not, innocent bystander and cultured Arknights enjoyer, for I open the doors to my dojo of grease this fine day in order to instruct you in the finest ways of how to beat the Big Sad Lock. Today, it’s not a dojo, it’s a factory, the Maul-A-Bear Factory, in which you and I will embark on a heart-throbbing journey of understanding, wisdom, and incredibly visceral violence.

Without further foreplay, let’s hit that g-spot (the flow state for gamers in the spot, as you all know) and let’s get making our little handy dandy essential bullet point list on what it IS that you need to rip the stuffing out of this bear with your teeth:

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This here is a video of me beating the Big Sad Lock in Calamity. Now, you may be wondering: Is this a Calamity guide? Nope, this works on any difficulty, which is something important to note because it let’s us immediately jump into the first very important point about the Big Sad Lock:

The Big Sad Lock is an extremely static, formulaic boss.

What does this mean? Unlike Lucian and the Playwright, and especially unlike The Mouthpiece, Big Sad Lock (BSL), as a boss fight, more or less resolves in the first minute and a half of the fight, that is, you can quickly be sure if it’ll go your way or if it won’t very quickly. This is because BSL either breaks you quickly, or not at all, and you break it or you don’t. Unlike the other IS2 bosses, BSL doesn’t test you much in terms of placement, it’s almost purely a test of team composition. IS2 is, already, a big test of team building, but BSL embodies that aspect to the extreme -- much like Mouthpiece is an extreme test of your ability to adapt to quickly changing circumstances, the opposite of BSL! -- so knowing if you’ll be able to win against BSL or if you’ll lose is actually something that becomes immediately apparent, and you have to ask yourself one question: Is my line holding while I deal damage?

Let’s get into the details that’ll make this question actually valuable, shall we?

Big Sad Lock has 300,000 HP, 800 ATK, 700 DEF, and 60 RES, and regenerates 0.25% HP per second (750 HP per sec baseline) if you do not have the Blank Suicide Note. It additionally occupies 3x3 tiles. To put it in simple terms, it has immense HP but several tiles to be attack from, above average Attack, above average Defense, and high Resistance, so your best bet is to hit it with Physical attacks or True Damage. It autoattacks two targets with Physical damage with global range, and every 20 instances of damage it takes (not attacks, instances of damage, so poison ticks and the like count), it releases a map-wide explosion attack that hits all of your Operators for 150% of its Attack (1200 Arts damage baseline). It’s most infamous ability, however, is that a minute into the fight and then every 45 seconds afterwards, BSL creates a barrier worth 15% of its Max HP (45,000 HP baseline). While the barrier exists, enemies move faster and additional enemies are spawned. If not defeated within 8 minutes, BSL explodes and deals 30 Life Points of damage to the Doctor, most likely ending the run unless you loaded up on Lives. This explosion also deals 200% Physical damage to every Operator (1600 damage baseline) but that’s the least of your problems at that point. While fighting the BSL, you also have to deal with constant enemies spawns, and must hold 2 lanes. These enemies are mostly regular enemies, but some of them are best handled with Arts damage, such as Enraged Grotesque Gravekeepers (aka red gargoyles), Mudrock Zealot Leaders (aka red Mudrock hammer guys) and Greytail Leaders (aka red shield bat guys).

Now, with all this information, let’s start formulating our bullet points on what it is we actually need:

This is how I usually set up for Big Sad Lock:

Pure red arrows are my Bear DPS. These units’ main job is to maim the bear almost exclusively, keeping a constant stream of hits going to it. You want strong single hits more than multiple hits for BSL, so as to not trigger its counter-explosion too often. Units that go on the right red arrow are those such as Ch’en the Holungday, Pinecone, Kal’tsit (Mon3tr on the tile directly to the left) to continuously pour damage into BSL, while the left red arrow is perfect for melee 1-range damage dealers like Skadi and Nearl the Radiant Knight. You want these to ideally be Physical units. Likewise, don’t use units like Exusiai or Ceobe S2, known for their extreme Attack Speed (though, of course, if your Attack Speed is some godly meme value like +400 or something, yeah, you’ll evaporate BSL, but a set up you’re not likely to get).

The Black-Red square is a special tile: Here, if you have them, is where you put Schwarz S3, Rosa, or any such unit. I personally put Schwarz S3 there and blast BSL from there. Otherwise, you can also put an AA Sniper or any such unit aimed down if you think your lane holding is not looking too hot.

The green squares are your Medics or otherwise healers like Skadi the Corrupting Heart.

The red square to the left is where you usually place a ranged unit to assist lane holding.

The blue-red arrows are lane holders, ideally damage dealer holders like Guards, Dollkeepers, or offense-oriented Defenders instead of turtles, as mob HP is overall low in this fight. The blue-red arrows to the left are double pronged because that’s a special tile that can also be used to DPS the Bear with certain units, if placed facing to the right: Pallas, Blaze S2, Thorns, and other such units can both hold that lane and assist with DPS. The right blue arrow is long to encompass the two tiles there: You can have a Lord or an Instructor behind a frontliner to hold that lane just fine. You can also use the ranged tile 2 tiles under the green square, if your deployment or strategy calls for it. Anywhere next to these arrows, you can place down a Healing Defender like Saria or Nearl for further blocking+healing if necessary.

Now that we have our placements, let’s examine the needs of the fight, based on the information we have thus far. In this section of my guides, we ask ourselves questions to organize our information into actually usable morsels of violence and wisdom:

What does the boss ask from me? -> The boss has regen if I don’t have a specific item, and even with it, it has high HP and a timer, as well as intensifying enemy spawns -> I want high damage -> But the boss counters every 20 attacks -> Prioritize fewer and heavier hits over multiple hits -> It has high RES -> Non-Multi-Hit Physical DPS for the BSL.

What does the rest of the fight ask from me? -> Several foes through 2 lanes, mostly resistant to Physical damage in one way or another -> Enough bulk and block to hold two lanes -> Enemies have low HP for the most part -> Prioritize damage over bulk, ideally Arts -> there’s constant damage from the boss’ explosions -> Bring enough healing to survive that -> High Physical damage can also deal with the enemies -> Bring Arts damage and/or high Physical damage and sufficient healing to keep your entire line alive to keep the lanes safe.

The fight is static -> The outcome of this battle is decided by how well I can set up so my units don’t die -> The battle is decided early, and it’s more about set-up than execution, of which there is very little -> Bring Vanguards if possible to hasten your set-up, as the faster you set up, the better your chances.

The boss explodes for damage constantly -> A small party with strong damage and healing fares better than a large party that I have to heal constantly, possibly running myself thin on limited Medic slots -> You don’t need a lot of units -> Thankfully, if you have what you need, the boss is easy and solves itself -> Quality over quantity, if you’re going for Bear, try your hardest to have the best of the best in your roster instead of a big overarching synergy, you don’t need much for this boss fight, just fulfill the damage and sustain requirements and you’re golden.

Once again, consult the video to see how I personally go about setting up for this fight, but, as you can see, the BSL is deceptively simple and frontloaded: If you have the tools and you lay them out properly, you win, simple as that. Once you get the hang of BSL, it’s trivial to beat it, simply because the building requirements for it are simple and straightforward, and most importantly, it requires very little execution, just on the set-up, which is just knowing targeting priority, the basis of Arknights.

BSL is mostly a very fundamental boss with lots of intimidating bells and whistles! It makes loud noises and sends enemies and grows shields but... Once you break it down, isn’t it just a very simple two-plus-two endeavor? There’s very little execution, you simply build your team on a diet of big single hit damage dealers and simple, bulky lane-holders with some damage and... You’re done. You don’t need more than that. It’s not me oversimplifying BSL, it really is that simple. It’s a boss that is difficult and scary until it just isn’t. I struggled a lot with it the first few times, until I realized, “wait, you just need like 3 things”, and now Bear runs are leisure runs.

Schwarz, Saria and Blaze S2 on the left with Corrupting Heart S2, Kal’tsit (+ Mon3tr) and Specter the Unchained on the right is the run I’ve done it with the least characters to memory. So long as your lanes don’t fall and your damage is constant... That’s it. That Bear is going nowhere, so a powerful static setup is very important.

And that’s that! We’ve finished this tour of the Maul-A-Bear Factory, now go out there and commit incredibly inspiring acts of violence!

[meirimerens]

maidens, brides and crones 💃🌱🌾🍂

headcanons time:

Maiden

— ages 15-19/20 — a very small portion of the Maidens have felt "called" to being a Herb Bride for as long as they can remember, most others have started to show a pull towards Herb Brides during childhood. Around 15 of age, the to-be-Herb Brides (nicknamed Herb Maids/Maidens, or Fledglings) will go through an Initiation ceremony in the presence of older Herb Brides. — their outfits are heavy, layered, cloth and leather with minimal sigils as face and body paint since they still have to learn their meanings : they will rather have simple lines and shapes. they wear heavy bone and clay jewelry, and their hairdos stay pretty simple. — they are very active, following older Herb Brides in dances. year after year, they develop their own dance, going through phases of very intense, frantic and kind of disorganized choreographies as they try to find their footings in the dance that will feel the truest and most meaningful to them. — the heavy outfits are here to allow them to prove they can dance even with all of the weight on them. the to-be-Herb Brides often fall from exhaustion, more often than their older counterparts, and these instances are seen as important proof that they are giving it their all, losing themselves into Boddho and allowing her to take their energy and give it back.

"Mother" / Bride

— ages 19/20-45 — functioning as a coming-of-age rite, a Confirmation ceremony takes place around the 19th to 25th birthday of a Maiden having proven her determination and stood by her choice of becoming a Herb Bride. she is able, anytime before the ceremony is set to take place, to walk away from a future as a Herb Bride and reintegrate the rest of the Kin: it is understood that the life of a Herb Bride is tough, hard, exhausting, even if ultimately exhilarating and incredibly fulfilling to those who are able to follow through, and that not everyone is fit for it. Maidens reintegrating the rest of the Kin will still typically have an interest in herbs, and will tend to gravitate towards being herbalists, gardeners, botanists... some might take up entirely different trades, even if they tend to be anchored in Kin culture, such as becoming leather tanners, leather cutters, weavers, tapesters... — the fledglings become Herb Brides in the presence of other Herb Brides and a/multiple Warden(s). they typically bathe in the Gorkhon or one of her tributaries and are expected to dance through the night. — from there, they wear lighter clothing which allows them to move freely. having learned the meaning of the sigils during their earlier years, and now in the company of more knowledgeable Herb Brides, sigils become part of their face and body paint. intricate hairdos become more common as Herb Brides help each other with them. — at this point, a Herb Bride will have settled into a dance of her own, something that feels true and meaningful to her. she will continue to change, morph and adapt it as she grows and learns more, but she has, now, come into her own. — the "Mother" title is not really accurate, as Herb Brides are celibate per their customs; they will be mother figures and mentors to to-be-Herb Brides, and some will learn midwifery. — whether or not a Herb Bride does become an actual midwife, Herb Brides will tend to to-be mothers and be around for births even if they do not help with the birth itself. — the Voice of Boddho grows stronger during this time, and many Herb Brides will pick up chants directly from the Earth. — a Herb Bride might still walk away from being one years, sometimes decades after her Confirmation ceremony. while these cases are rare, a Bride reintegrating the Kin at this point will typically gravitate towards herbalism, herbal medicine, poetry or storytelling inspired by the chants of the Earth. — even more rare than the previous cases, but having been seen nonetheless, adult women might want to become Herb Brides past the usual age of Confirmation ceremonies. they might or might not go through the Maids "trial" period, as they are typically more sure of themselves and more convinced of their desire to devote themselves to the dance.

Crone

— ages 45+ — as some herb brides age and do not have the vigor to dance they once had, their knowledge of sigils, plants, and for some, childbirth, allow them to focus on these aspects of the Kin rather than the frantic dances as the new generation of Herb Brides fill that role. — with sometimes 30 years of being a fledgling/maidens then full-fledged Herb Bride, their knowledge of sigils, herbs and the myths is vast and crucial to be shared. some Herb Brides become more sedentary, settling in with family members, and are reached periodically like Elders. — for some, having been trained in midwifery by other Brides; and for others, having been witnesses to these births, a number of Herb Brides of that age settle in a midwife role. their knowledge of herbs allows them to make births less painful for the mother, and they either shoulder the Menkhu during birth, or take care of it themselves, surrounded by younger Brides. — with age, some Herb Brides start wearing warmer clothing again as they handle the cold less well than when they were vigorous young women. their outfits welcome layers again and often intricately braided grass and herbs into sleeves, vests or skirts. — the Brides who keep dancing tend to settle into a slower, softer, less brutal dance. they grow closer and closer to blades of grass swaying in the wind with the knowledge that they, soon, will go back to the Earth and be reborn as these very same blades. — mentorship of to-be and younger Herb Brides is a crucial part of their life.

[siren-sashimi]

Hemimetabolism [HC scenario; Marquis Vincent de Gramont x ballerina!reader]

Contents and warnings: female presenting reader, work place pressure (highly competitive work environment) , Reader has self loathing thoughts, instances of stalking, allusions to exploitation, power plays, intimidation, very long outline…

[Based on an anonymous prompt; HCs on their beginnings] Don't forget, you're working in the arts. Talent alone isn't going to save you a safe spot in life. Patronages in ballet aren't rare, you've to dance every part perfectly, smile at the sponsors, no finger shall be moved the wrong way, never badmouth anyone in your company, your mentor knows you dance your part perfectly yet dance it again and again and again and again to perfection, don't fall off the rails, don't show your exhaustion, don't let anyone hear your crying, perform always towards anyone in excellence.

♦ You know you're good, you wouldn't have been invited for a season to Rome. For nothing but the constant demand, constant scheming for the best part, pressure by patrons, by the artistic director, by the instructor, and by company members, be it for the pettiest reasons, leaves your self confidence raw and frail, tiptoeing the line between a the proverbial stiff upper lip and a breakdown. While everyone around you, including yourself doesn't show any of it.

In addition, patronages are the actual stepping stones for someone's career - someone might be influential enough against the director's will, maybe someone's the choreographer's old classmate . Most hope that whoever throws an eye on them isn't this unpleasant of a person, perhaps someone highty-tighty about arts but not about their protegée's body. And if... maybe they're not too violent, their touches not too unbearable.

♦ New play for the season: "Sylvia". Since you're new, you become a dryad. And the costume-department has some lovely ideas creating  dresses for each tree a dryad could be. Not overwhelming but you made it as part of well-regarded company, you have a visible part, you can work up and up each season. Still, only a dryad as a guest... You surely hadn't put it all in your performance? What could you've done more? Surely, there was something you missed, to focused on your own steps that you didn't lay your eyes on the actual  main characters, how well they master their technique… Maybe the excitement over the invitation into a renominated position had you blinded for everything else. You hadn't been attentive enough, you hadn't been good enough for another role.

♦All company members are asked to attend the season opening party (and of course, training next day starts at 8 am sharp!). An opportunity to garner the favours of sponsors and patrons of the theater, maybe gain some yourself. As ambitious as you feel, you hope a simple dryad will be too uninteresting to make an easy prey.

♦ Tough luck, some guy is extremely interested in picking wall flowers. He seems important enough that people talk to him, a quick chance for you To slip through the cracks. Yet he moves progressively closer to you through the crowd to the point he begins to end conversation with a smile that's straining more and more. Polite save distance isn't safe anymore. You begin to slowly but surely try to move towards the upper bathroom. Are these steps other guests who need to use the facility or...? In increasing panic, you rush past the door and run up even more stairs. Rushing down the dark hallway you almost collide into a large figure. He tells you that you shouldn't be here, why are even here?

♦ The place you planned to become your escape is now guarded by this tall men who seems ready to attack you at any wrong move. "Chidi!" an authoritative voice calls upon the man. The tall man steps away from you, only one step, his gaze still fixed on you. Next to him, behind the door of the balcony area of the building steps another tall man. His clothes are of finest quality as well as way too fancy even for an season opening event at classic arts.

Something in your distressed look, your eyes constantly twitching to the banister you can't see behind you, to check if the creep from downstairs is following you must've told the well-dressed man something. "Rather scared and lost. Leave her be." he tells the one called Chidi. "Um... I am sorry, I didn't want to interrupt." Whatever you could've interrupted anyway "I just wish to go upstairs." "To do what?" Chidi snides in. "I..." you look back "Just a rest, the party got quiet too crowded." Chidi looks unimpressed yet the other shrugs, and waves vaguely behind him. You're allowed to pass.

♦ It is only at the top at the stairwell of the 4th floor, you hear Chidi and the other man again, at least you recognize their voices. These voices arguing with the one of the down-stairs creep. But within minutes the minutes end - all you hear is a dull sound and a wail which quickly ends. What on earth happened? Should you go or not? That didn't sound good although... if that creep won. You retreat into the shadows, deeper into the hallway. At one point, no idea how much time passed, the night is getting too cold, you need at least some slight hours of sleep for the next day. Passing the hallway none, nothing is to be seen. The catering staff is cleaning up the buffet and decorations.

♦ Training starts, one of faunes is already rumoured to have gained himself a sugar daddy, if Orion falters, the faun might become the hunter soon. You are only relieved, your company will stay in their own circles. Even on a night out, you surely won't meet anyone who has any say or money in casting. No consequences, you're not asked to change position so whatever happened at the opening party, you were lucky this time. Only during last rehearsal before the day of first costume fit, your choreographer urges you to actual excellence, you will dance in front of one of the most esteemed patrons. They freed some of their time to pay an extra visit, so shine! A performance during which everyone is nervous, your choreographer's voice harder. Only in the distance, somewhere at the upper balcony all of you can only muster out the dark silhouettes of someone sitting in the chair, other people standing around them.

♦ Next day is first fitting day. Diana is clad in the palest silver, wearing a wreath of stars, on the center a sickle moon. All the dryads wearing bodies in the colour of the stem of their tree, yet the tights are appliqued with the ornaments of these trees, the headwears even have fake leaves. But when you ask for your costume, the seamstress is a bit at loss explaining that yours will need to wait. Here you are, all your fellow dancers transforming into mystic spirits and characters of old tales, whereas all your wear are your regular training attire, colourless, simple. Maybe you had made a big mistake at the party. A detrimental mistake even. ♦ Even the next day your mind is clouded. If these aren't thunder clouds wearing your head down. That is until the seamstress catches you before the changing room. You will be the spirit of a birch tree. Your costume is white except your skirt and sleeves are dyed black on the hems, white tights painting with black marks, gold and green leaves sewn on all over. You're the only dryad with a golden wreath. Maybe you shouldn't feel like a gleeful five year old. You're only a side character, a decorative dancer but the thought how magical you look… your movements feel much livelier. Even back in regular training attire… something magical blooms in you.

♦ This weird giddiness still lingers through all the rehearsals up to the premier. Your entire body is fluttering and floating like a birch's leave in the wind. As if someone saw you and figured your style would come out best in the character of a birch dryad. Dancing like this comes so easy to you, you almost forget that you're just a side character. Of course when you see Sylvia dance, it is as if her body was a petal in the wind, Diana's movement swift, effortless whereas even the lift of her little finger demands all attention on stage, you think that you maybe be a happy tree but in the end you are tree on stage.

♦ For the evening of the dress rehearsal the theater has good news: As little appetizer, the patreons of the theater organized a little meeting with champagne and snacks. They even somehow booked the Villa Borghese. All of your nerves are too tense to actually care much about the idea of party. And what if you meet that creep from last time? At least everyone would be lenient on you excusing yourself early, all of you would understand needing a rest. But when you arrive there, only the entrance area being lit for a get-together, dancers and instructors small talking in pleasantries, the man from last time was nowhere to be seen. In the evening's twilight, slowly drifting away from the crowd you finally have time to actually view some art in Rome, in peace, only far off voices, no crowd of tourists… Admiring the great Titian, and Caravaggio for yourself.

♦Of course, so many Bernini's, so, so many. One you know from previous art references of aestheticized pictures of the Internet. The beautiful Appollon hunting after the despairing Daphne. The physicality, Daphne's agony immediately understandable. Having the time and silence to study the statue you perhaps got you so lost in it, you only resurface after you become aware of another person's presence next to you.

♦ He stands perfectly still, hand in his left pocket. Perhaps that perfect poise and silent movements hid his presence for a while. Otherwise he's hard to overlook. Definitely taller than many men, an aura at ease as only someone untouchable, so powerful is (almost like Diana of stage), and that suit… "Oh, it is you…!" you remember loudly from the last party. Still studying Bernini's work, he lightly tilts his head, giving at best a small hum. Then he turns his head towards you. "So you remembered?" That comment tucks at the corners of your mouth. "You're not easy to forget, Signore. Your style alone…" No reaction from his side. Due the difference in  height he of course has to look down to you. Yet… perhaps it's just the natural form of his big eyes, the way eyes in lighter colours pronounce the pupil. It feels like being watched. You quickly try correct and impoliteness. After all he… "You saved me that night. That's hard to forget." "Hmm" he shifts ever so slightly "how so?" Carefully you eye him. "Perhaps I was a bit speculating but the last things I heard were your voices and-" that uncomfortable sound of a body hit, perhaps a cracked nose "he was gone." This man's nose looked intact. "Perhaps there's also thanks due to your… companion, the one in the grey suit." Whatever you said seems to amuse your saviour. He huff, his grin showing his teeth. "Well" he says "It's been a long time since I wasted fists on an cretin like him. It was worth it." What has been worth it? You tense. Perhaps you were too alerted by the nightmare idea of having to crawl at a patron's feet but suddenly you become aware of the man in front of you. Both of you are too far away to hear any other voice from the party. He was practically towering over you, hands large, strong enough to break a nose with one hit… His attire, his hair, his cologne reeked of wealth. Good grief, he was part of the group that could book out the Villa Borghese for a private event.

"Such philistines wouldn't even recognize art if it would scream at them. They only throw money at the idea of titillation. And I've to share my sparse time at the same meetings with these swines." In his monologue your breath became more even. Just a bit intimidating looking bohemian, wasn't he? Suddenly his eyes snap back at you. "Don't you think a thanks is appropriate to the one who saved your skin? I even sullied my hand hitting him" Don't flinch! you remain to yourself, doing your best to overhear your mind screaming at you to run. Have you ever had paid attention how broad his shoulders are? How even these so well cut suits betray a strong physique?  If you play any game you can only loose. "Thank you." you decide to reply. Simply, that's all. ♦ A smirk carves into his face. A silent prayer passes through your mind when you see this, a litany begins when he bows down to you. "No, no, that won't do." Large green eyes fixing on yours. Internally you check all the technique you've ingrained in yourself, breathing calm enough, posture not too tense - if only no fear creeps upwards your eyes.

Not too close, but close enough to smell his subtle perfume, refreshing, dark, like a forest, so elegant. "I would say you owe me some damn good performance. Your effort for mine, sounds like a fair exchange, wouldn't you say?".

His smile looks satisfied, less directed to you. He leaves you standing there, leaves you confused. Is your patron - with these words he is, right?- just a chivalrous peacock or a patient wolf?

♦ The premiere is met by roaring applause! The titular Sylvia isn't only loved by Amintas, the audiences adores her too. At the last step, all of you fauns, nymphs, Artemis herself, beholding Sylvia's happy end, all you can think how grandiose the first dancer was. At the thought how good you have to get to reach any glory of hers, your toes ache beyond the exhaustion of the evening.

♦ It's party time announcement! While the faun, lead by Sylvia's dancer are popping open their first champagne, the adrenaline rushing as much as the bubbles in the flutes. Maybe you would've celebrated too but after the curtain fell, tiredness struck heavy on you. You don't know why. You dance's impeccably but only as much as a dryad can… Did you do your best performance. And compared to the greatness of the lead dancers…

Trying to sneak away you bump into something heavy. Trying to figure out whatever this object is you recognize that it was the familiar frame of someone you already had bumped into. Chidi… hadn't that been his name? "Would you be so kind to accept the Marquis' invitation?" he tells you, ignoring you just trudged on his polished leather shoes. "Who…. You mean your…" in what relation did they even stand to each other? And what Marquis? "You mean the… sharply dressed companion of yours?"

"The Marquis yes. So what do you say to dinner?"

"Just dinner?" The way Chidi doesn't bat an eyelash nor moves any muscle makes you wonder if he ever danced too with his composure. Yet offers you a small kindness: "The dining place isn't exactly what I would call discreet. If you please, Miss, the Marquis isn't patient."

♦ With only the most flashy parts of your stage makeup hastily wiped off, and off-stage clothes which look drab and tired even against Chidi's impeccable grey uniform, you're escorted to a louder part of the inner city of Rome. The place is well packed for a Friday, definitely more quaint than chique. Chidi and you are greeted by a quiet yet friendly waiter, led to a room behind a curtain. In it, a door's open to a much more quiet backyard.

The Marquis, it is him, the man from the parties, is dressed in champagne white, more befititng a visit to the opera than this (albeit cozy) place. Leaned against the back of his chair, eyes following one of Rome's cats, balancing on the walls of the backyard. At Chidi's announcement he gives you polite smile.

♦ You're served fried artichokes. (Chidi is relegated to a table behind the curtain, presumably designated to dine on his own.) In spite of the tiredness seeping into your bones, the bewilderment of whatever goes in, the smell so rich, savoury, the sweet bitterness of the artichoke… At your host announcing: "Bon appetit, you worked for it." only your manners save you from wolfing it down. The melange of  and the smoky after taste, rich golden taste of oil, turning the bitterness sweet is nothing you've tasted before, a sensation so gladdening it washes over your thrumming nerves. Looking up, you see your host smiling, again. You can't read it. "It's good" you initiate the conversation "it really is. It was kind of you to invite me here. Thank you." "It's nothing chique yet I remember it from my first travel to Rome. Even in better establishments nothing comes close to this."

♦Surprisingly, the conversation flows easily. Your nebulous host introduces himself as Marquis Vincent de Gramont, he's from France (he's fine with English, if you want to drop the Italian you meticulously put together for this season). Although such mentions make you almost drop your fork, he easily smoothes from such grand revelations to talk about your play. Apparently he's a patron of the Opera in Rome, indeed he's very fond of ballet. Asks how you came to balett. Actually the conversation is so lovely, you almost forget your first meeting, his title. But after the dessert plates are taken away (Chestnut tartellette), he stands up and offers you his arm, it all comes back. "Walk with me." Hesitance from… precaution? Nervosity from the attention from such a vibrant man (and what all that could mean…)?

The pause has been too long to appear as courteous. Without looking into Monsieur de Gramont's eyes your threat your hands around his elbow, leaving the now empty restaurant, Chidi following you in some meters of distance. ♦ Outside, Roman night life is as vivid as it can be on a Weekend, although calm enough that you can be unbothered. Vincent walks comfortably whereas you… don't know where you're going. "Monsieur…!" you speak up out of a sudden before suspicion morphs into panicked fear "why…" The deep orange light of the street life cuts a sharp profile of the Marquis' face, even in the dark his eyes are clear enough about to flit… in the profile you see one eye slowly, almost lazily slide towards the direction of the tense figure on his arm. "What is it?" "Why are you doing… why are you so nice to me?" Now he pulls his arm out of your hold, stands up before you, looking down to you. So, so many people pass loudly talking, laughing, arguing over the cobbled streets, the two of you could as well stand in the silent. Next to you only the silent, immovable marble, Daphne's face contorted in metamorphosis and despair.

"Why can't I be nice to you?" "May I be frank?" "I doubt anything you say make me even quiver. But if you need, I'll permit it."

"None in a position such as yours…" (if there's anyone else who could ever be in a higher position, if there was anyone ever like this man, you just know it by the richness of his clothes, by the day he still moves as if he was invisible for those who shouldn't see him) "Any patronage, be it art for art's sake, isn't out benevolence. They demand at least a good piece of art in exchange. At least…" you stress "And you… well, see where you got us. What you wear, what you make possible. In all frankness, if your ever were to ever ask anything of me, there's no chance I could refuse. You probably know it by instinct. And I'm afraid your words make such a probability become fact." "Please don't take it as an accusation of your character, this world I move in works on unspoken rules." you add quickly. Have you gone too far? Probably he would only need to lift his pinkie of the left hand and you could forget even having a silent role in a local theater production.

♦ Indeed he huffs, shakes his head. "Well, I wasn't wrong about you. Indeed I want to bring you to a hotel room, if you would be so kind to follow me." Once again for this evening he offers you his arm. In your eyes it has the same outlines of a noose. By the unspoken rules of the world to literally tip toe in… you have to tie it around your neck. For a while you two (Chidi somewhere behind) walk in silence, your stomach churning. The food was too good to turn sour in your mouth. Your thoughts are racing. Sure, he's handsome, and could move heaven and earth with no effort, he reeks of money. But what would you need to do for him? Men this handsome and rich are the least suspected (if anything could ever reach such a man). For some patrons already having a dancer on their whim was an ideal board of powerplay… sex just one that gratified ego and sexual urges. Maybe a slither of hope is that the Marquis' this rich that you would be a quick past time. "You know the story of the nymph Echo?" His questions tears you out of the current of your racing thoughts.

♦ Quickly you roam through your mind. "Wasn't that the story with Narcissus?" "Indeed. And?" "Um… she… was cursed to repeat the last words that could be spoken to her. Narcissus wouldn't have her any way, he… I don't know if I remember it correctly, either he thought of her as stupid as she only repeated his words or he already was in love with his own reflection. "Do you know what happened to her." "I only know that he drowned himself." You two stepped into the hallway of a baroque hotel, only by passing you noticed a small plaque naming it "il Continentale". While recounting this story, the Marquis lead you up a spiral staircase. Why wouldn't he take an elevator? The far rings of elevators were to be heard in the lobby. "Echo", the Marquis continued "was so humiliated, she retreated into a cave, didn't eat, didn't drink, he bones turned to stone. But nymphs are, in a way, immortal. He voice remained. "The arm you held pulled you down a carpet laid out hallway. "You know the other way Echo died?" She would die once again? You could only shake our head. Room numbers, there were so few rooms, they passed into a blur. 21, 22… there, there it was a bight door. Even the pristine white paint couldn't elevate how heavy the wood must be. "The god Pan was in love with her, she didn't. In fury of her refusal of him he tore her apart, threw all he parts between the mountains. There they ghost around, still resounding from the rock faces. Now you two stood facing the door. No taste in mouth, no feeling in any of your usually so sharp limbs. Your palms felt under the rich material of your patron how hard the Marquis' arm muscles were. He has told you all this like he talked about the weather forecast. Hadn't looked at you but opened the door. You sprung to run the other way. In the hallway, a forecast shadow, in the middle of it all stood Chidi. "Come on in." the Marquis called you. "we don't have all night." If Echo's last remains was only her voice, you dearly, dearly wished it would be the thing that would be heard of you too. But in the end all there was left was memory, she's died violently anyway. ♦ The room was excessive. In the way Baroque is excessively luxurious, heavily, suffocating though. Like a cat finding quick comfort, the Marquis seated himself into an armchair of the room, facing you. His face hardly readable, although you would guess it was… relaxed? Unbothered? What should you do know. Chidi hasn't followed… "You know what's your problem?" Monsieur de Gramont asked you. You're still standing, close by the door. Over your silence he continues. "You're selling yourself short." Have you even offered yourself to him yet? "You don't know your worth yet, and lesser men, like that rancid trash who followed you… well, even he knows about your worth and wants to exploit it." "You don't?" It slips out quietly. Suddenly the Marquis' face drops, he jumps up, and struts over to quick like a leopard falling over it's prey. He does this again. Again he hulks over you, green eyes drilling into you, lighting up too brightly. The silent look itself is a command to your to respond whereas your body, your instinct screams to barge through this heavy oak-wood door somehow, somehow dash past Chidi, somewhere, anywhere away from this transfixing gaze. "Would you like me to?"

♦ His cologne is so clear, even in panic you notice how tasteful it his. You two are so close, the warmth of his breath brushes over your lips. It is almost too hot, it melts your frozen body as if someone threw boiling water on ice in winter. The paralysis cracks a little - enough for you to drop you gaze. ♦ A clack of shoes. Carefully you eye the Marquis who'd taken a step back. "There, you did it again." He shakes his head "You're probably clever enough to notice by know but I wouldn't need to waste any time or money on a dinner and a chat "You think that all this" a broad hand waves over the golden glittering, fresco overpainted room "is for fornication. Pardon me, my dear, but if for such a brachial purpose, I wouldn't need time to satisfy such needs." So why creep me out like this? You wanted to scream although there was this little observative, sharp part in you. This part in your picking up in clues, listening to the little bits dropped in conversations that could offer positions, roles, opportunities… Where was this conversation going. "My life is unpleasant enough. I would like to enjoy at least something beautiful. Both of us can agree that out exchange is created for mutual exchange. In simple terms: You will be granted my protection from any unsuited… let's call them supporters, and I demand your excellency. But" Vincent raises a finger "you have to deliver myself excellency. Understood."

Entirely flabbergasted you can only nod. "Excellent. So we have an agreement. If you would be so kind to not look like a deer in the headlights anymore." ♦  Through the confusion all your relief bursts through with all the fear Monsieur has indeed helped build up. And if you can judge by all the years of pressure induced in your training, he knew exactly what he said. Every single, every single damn word was cleverly laid out. "So that's all?! And what is this" grand gesture over this excess of a room "then?! Why tell me about the gruesome of murdered women-" "Echo" "starving or ripped to shreds, these stories are still scary."

As an answer there was this cryptic smile on his lips. The Marquis stepped forward, reach past you for the door handle. In the often so repeated gesture, his hand waved over an room with stucco at every corner, covered in gold leaf, walls painted with scenes of luscious forests, too tame, too bright to resemble any real forest, in-between  branches half-dressed characters, from myths your partially knew or believed to know, dancing, holding the other down, laughing, vases full of flowers smelling in their own beauty, a window open to the deep blue night. "This" Vincent says "this is a little thanks for your splendid work tonight. I choose the right tree-spirit for you, my dear dryad. A taste of my upcoming thanks. And the stories…" For a moment he might have looked at you, yet his thoughts were somewhere else "…just the coincidences what role you play, that I meet you at the statue of Daphne's. Romanticism is a blinding understanding of the world yet… I think if you give a thought about all these nymphs… I think you might draw an revealing thesis for yourself." With a nod he opens the door. "Good night, my dear. Breakfast is ordered for you. Recover well. I will see you on stage tomorrow evening."

Notes: Gosh, I really wanted the statue of Apollon and Daphne featured so re-wrote everything to take place in Rome, I don't even know if the Roman Ballet is this good that Reader develops complexes.

While writing Chidi interactions, I was also shortly inspired by the idea how reader is a protegée for Vincent purely for art for art's sake. Chidi has to watch the Marquis at all time, so naturally he has to accompany the Marquis at his leisure views as well. And Chidi falls for her. Could be cute, Chidi using the few minutes his boss doesn't inflict trouble on himself trying to be sweet for the reader, complimenting her, and wanting to learn more about classic ballet to talk to them a bit more. Make of that dark menacing guard dog pining, blushing and fumbling for words to start a conversation.

[cakebatteronabrickwall]

How about Succession Game Motif? I’m glad you ask!

Playing games is obviosuly a heavy handed metaphor to use, but it is after all how these characters treat a lot of their in-fighting about the company and the whole world, really. But, more interestingly, the show depicts (and mentions) literal games as an intergral recurring theme. I have compiled a list, but it is important to note that those games are essentially split into “games that exist in the real world” and “games that the Roys made up”.

First Category: Games That Exist in The Real World

Baseball- The first game ever played on the show; very normal thing to do. But it does end up distorted when the element of money is introduced + it really showcases the detachment between the family and the people working for them. Roman sees the bet as a playful thing while, for the kid, it could have been everything.

I Went to Market- This game also gets distorted by a) some weird items the players have to remember and b) Logan resorting to violence when faced with his own shortcomings and loss.

Monopoly- There’s not that much to say here, other than maybe it is a game famous for cheating and the season 3 finale ends in a betrayal, so maybe read it as an average family game becoming distorted and more sinister in restrospect.

Second Category: Games That The Roys Made Up

When the family isn’t busy molding pre-existing games into more fucked up versions, they also make up their own.

Dog Cage- I’m torn on whether this is a game or just a humiliation tactic, but that is the case for most of the Roy games lol. This one is also tricky, because the brothers can’t remember who exactly “asked” to play it and why and what the rules were. But something tells me Logan might remember.

Nanny Game- Cut from the show but interesting to include. It relies on making up a believable enough lie to get a nanny fired; this game can only be played by children. Showcases detachment once again; somebody losing their job means nothing.

Bitey- Incredible game, because it is literally just an excuse to inflict violence for violence’s sake; both players have to be either kids or a little unhinged to agree to it. Go figure.

Boar on the Floor- Very fascinating, because this is a game Logan comes up with for adults, also it seems to have no prior history which freaks everybody out; it’s a game designed for humilitation and loyalty (?) only, and the moment you are forced to play it, you have already lost. There might be a parallel to Dog Cage here, considering the hierarchial implications.

Dinner for Winners- Another cut from the show situation, it plays into the whole ED theme the show has going on and more directly Kendall and Logan’s relationship to food. It’s not even a game, more of a punishment-reward thing, but most “games” on the list only barely follow the definition.

Meal Fit for A King- The last game ever played on the show, it nicely mirrors Baseball, because in this instance we don’t have cruelty disguised as playfulness but simply a ritual, again barely a game, which only exists to be disgusting (and humiliating, really), no pretense this time around. Interestingly, this is also a game originated by children but instead of showcasing regression and cruelty, it serves as a bonding moment for adults; all of them consent to “playing” which overwrites the humiliation part of the game.

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

So I had my dad talking to me about cars today, telling me how I should basically avoid getting any cars except those made by Japanese companies because of how shitty other countries manufacture their cars (mileage and life span)

Do you have any thoughts on this? I don’t know much about cars and I thought of this blog while I was having this conversation so that’s why I send here

Do I have thoughts on this. Do I have thoughts on this. Babygirl (gender neutral) I have thoughts on aspects of cars you wouldn't even conceive of. I have thoughts on aspects of cars that aren't even real. Up the ante, folks! Ask me which cars are most bisexual!

That aside, for my opinion: Italian food is good. But of course, when I eat out in Italy, I don't go to any random place because "this country does this well", because I'm not ordering from a country, or a region, or a city, but from a specific joint - and some of them suck, some dropped or rose in quality, some are exceptionally good/bad with certain things, hell, some serve foreign food and then what's the adage matter now! That's why Yelp doesn't have country reviews.

Much the same, Japanese cars are usually pretty reliable, but Nissan spent the last two decades making a case against that claim (especially with their CVT transmission, a known ticking time bomb they've done fuck all about for years) with the help of whatever's left of the shell of Mitsubishi, and Infiniti is just the luxury brand of Nissan so ditto for it... indeed, another point to make, some cars are just based on, or outright are, cars from other brands. Infinitis are built by Nissan, and usually based on the equivalent Nissans. Except the QX30, which is just a Mercedes GLA - which probably was part of the same deal through which Mercedes got to sell the Nissan Navara as the X Class.

And there's a lot of cross-nationality brand partnerships like that, past and present, like the four-decade-long Mazda/Ford one, or the time Saturn had such a crappy engine they had to get Honda to give them a proper one. And by the way, the guy who posted that? He owns a different Saturn which took 360k miles of bare minimum care like a champ, because reliability can vary wildly within a lineup, and also a Volkswagen that's been a thorn in his side, which definitely wasn't the experience I had with mine, because mine is over twice as old, and a brand can completely change over time too! (You'd think they were run by people or something.)

In fact, reliability changing over time and models is the norm - not as drastically as, say, "older German cars were unstoppable tanks and now they're overly fit-prone electronics messes where everything is costly to buy and dastardly to replace" (which, however, is actually a notable trend), but usually in terms of "in this model, through these production years, this component was overly keen on failing" (as per my Accord post). Part of how Toyota (and by extension its luxury brand Lexus) rightfully earned its reputation of King Reliability is such cases in their production being especially few and far between, and none notable enough to become an automotive meme like Subaru head gasket failures (and no, the Camry dent doesn't count). So, say, Hondas may not be less reliable, just a bit less consistently so (but even there, Honda interiors tend to hold up much better than Toyotas', yadda yadda yay for nuance).

So if you are buying a used car (as you should) it's always important to research for potential common problems (for instance, pre-90s Toyota frames are to rust what the letter X is to Elon Musk) and thoroughly inspect the car, to check that nothing is broken and that it's been properly serviced.

That last part is very important, because reliability is not a tickbox, it's a spectrum, and a function of how a car was built and how it was maintained. Carelessness will kill any car sooner or later. Every car has fluids that will at some point need changing, wear items that will at some point need replacing, and the occasional part failure. Even yours. So even when it comes to your car, keep up with that stuff, or it will eventually catch up to you. (And if regular services would tax your finances, look into how to perform them yourself - you'll find it's a lot easier than you thought, you'll give it a shot and it will be very rewarding and save you a lot of money!)

And also, if a hinge starts squeaking, if something starts sagging, if some trim breaks, if you get a dent or scratch, take care of those too. Not because they make your car work less or worth less, but because they foster an indifference that snowballs into neglect. Working on those little things will keep you feeling like your car is nice and your loving effort is going to keep it nice, dammit - in much the same way as it's important to take care of yourself and your environment for your mental health, to keep yourself feeling like you are making it and with your loving effort you are going to keep making it, dammit.

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

[fcble]

GREAT THINGS, PART II

"For God's gifts and his call are irrevocable." — Romans, 11:29.

In which Haksu's life falls apart. FEATURING: Kang Haksu, Lee Taein, Yoon Mingeun, Lim Byeonghwi, Fable ensemble WORD COUNT: 6.7k WARNINGS / NOTES: Discussions of stalking and blackmail, more heavy-handed religious themes. You can read the first part here! Not very proofread. Sorry in advance for the mistakes I definitely made. I wanted to finish this closer to the beginning of April than the end but it is what it is. I also fucked up the timeline a little bit compared to some other pieces. This is the more canon one.

DECEMBER 2017

You pass Taein's little tests with flying colors. You’re Hercules, and these are your trials. First, your one month trial period. In the beginning, it is hard. There are days when you think you can’t make it at all, when you think maybe it would be better if you gave up, that a mediocre life is not so bad. After all, most people live mediocre lives. You aren't most people.

Second, it becomes apparent by your third or fourth day that the other trainees—namely Mingeun and Jaeseop—have a vendetta against you. Mingeun leads the independent dance practices, because he has the most experience, despite being the second youngest in the room. It throws you for a loop at first—how one nineteen year old can have the same amount of idol training as everyone else combined. You don’t enjoy taking direction from him. He singles you out, though you don’t trip over your feet any more than Andrew or Intak, and asks you to repeat sections over and over again until he’s satisfied. He isn’t good at giving instructions. He’ll tell you that something is wrong, crossing his arms with his back to the mirror, but not what exactly is wrong. It doesn’t take long for you to realize he’s doing this on purpose. He doesn’t want you to succeed, and he’ll hold you back himself. You won’t let yourself be bullied by someone younger than you, so you force yourself to take his advice seriously and listen earnestly. It’s a battle of wills, and you’re going to win. 

Jaeseop is a different story. He treats you differently because you’re an outsider. He’s been with Zenith Entertainment the longest because Taein is his uncle, a fact that you learn not from him, but from Kiyoung, and then do your best to take in stride. It becomes even more important for you to impress him. He holds you at an arm's distance anyway. You can't understand it. He seems so protective of everyone else, drawing a clear line between you and them. You try, again and again, to get to know him. He gives you the cold shoulder every time, answering your questions in short sentences or single words, like he’s mimicking Intak’s speech patterns. You have to be on his good side, because you know he’s reporting everything that relates to you back to Taein. You imagine what he says about you: you don’t fit in, you’re different, they would be better off without you. The thoughts keep you up at night, despite the bone-deep tiredness that you haven’t been able to shake since you joined the company.

Third, Taein extends your trial period weeks and months at a time. You make it through your first month, and he seems surprised to see you in his office again, come the new year. He changes it up on you, amending the parameters of your old deal.

“A month isn’t nearly long enough to learn how someone works,” he tells you. “Take a job, for instance. A new employee doesn’t immediately know everything about the position, or fit into the workplace culture. There’s always a training period.”

You haven't had the type of job he's describing, so you sit in his office and nod along. Your trial month becomes a two month trial, then a three month trial. You wear down Jaeseop and Mingeun one at a time, until they have no choice but to acknowledge you.

When your third month is over, Taein doesn't say anything. You assume you passed all his tests. You're officially a trainee now, a member of whatever Taein is planning.

Then it's summer, and everything changes.

You're going to debut. Of course, you knew this from the beginning. So did everyone else, because that's what you told them the day you joined.

Your debut announcement comes in the newly renovated meeting room. You were unaware there were still changes being made to the building, of construction going on on the floor above you. You chalk it up to being so intensely involved in your training.

Nevertheless, you sit in a spinning chair at the end of a long table, the lights dimmed to illustrate the presentation that Taein and his assistant, Yuxuan, are giving on your upcoming debut. Your group name is Fable. Your debut is slated for August 8, 2018, your twenty-first birthday. It must be fate. Your concept will be representative of Korea, and Intak is writing your debut song. More importantly, you’re going to be the main vocalist. You can feel Mingeun’s murderous gaze from across the table.

After the group announcement, Yuxuan pulls you aside and tells you Taein wishes to speak with you, individually. You don't know what that's about, but you agree. You assume he wants to speak to everyone individually.

When you’re in Taein’s office again a day later, you aren’t worried. Then he locks the door behind you, and you start to worry. You feel like you've spent more time in here than practicing with the rest of Fable, though you know that can't be right. It's the way time stretches and slows when you're sitting in front of Taein.

“You’re in a very unique position,” he says.

“That’s an interesting way of putting it,” you say. You can’t show weakness. “I want our deal to continue through my debut.”

“No.” Taein’s response is immediate. 

“Then Eunyoung-ssi will learn of your infidelity,” you say, almost apologetic.

“And you’ll ruin any chance you have of debuting.”

That would be a problem for you, but you have to pretend it doesn’t matter. You shrug. “You’re so close to finally debuting a group. Isn’t this what you left SM to do? You’ve spent so much time and money on us. It’d be a shame to throw it all away now.”

You can feel him faltering. You’ve pressed all the right buttons. You push them further. “I’m going to be the face of Fable, and you’re going to make that happen.”

Taein leans back in his seat. “So that’s what all of this is about. You’re desperate for your five minutes of fame. I can’t make anyone famous. It won’t fall into your lap.”

You hold his gaze. “You can buy it. I want every opportunity that Fable gets. If there aren’t any, you’ll make some.” You assume he has deep pockets. He can’t produce an idol group without them.

“There are other, easier ways to become famous,” Taein says, sounding almost amused. “Being an idol is a fickle position.”

It's the position you chose. You won't back down now.

"You drive a hard bargain," he continues. "I seem to have been backed into a corner." It doesn't really seem like that to you, but you keep your mouth shut, in case he decides to change his mind.

“You’ll be the face of Fable, and in return, you’ll keep my secrets to yourself.”

You nod again, this time maybe too enthusiastically. “Deal.”

Taein holds his hand out and you shake it, suddenly feeling lighter. You’re going to debut. You’re going to do great things.

“Jaeseop spoke highly of you,” he says as he unlocks the door.

You pause. “He did?”

“He admires your tenacity and your ability to work with people who don’t want to work with you. He also said you might be more stubborn that Mingeun, which may not be a compliment.”

You beam at the praise. You choose to interpret that last part as a compliment.

You’re halfway out the door, a skip in your step, when Taein stops you again. “One last thing. What were you studying?”

"Business administration," you answer. "I dropped out at the end of the school year."

He nods. "It suits you. You should consider going back."

You aren't too sure what to make of that.

APRIL 2021

You build your house with paper cards, yet you’re surprised when it comes tumbling down. You think you should have seen it coming. There were signs: Taein started work earlier and left later. Sometimes he’d stay overnight, locked up in his office, doing God knows what. You try to ask Jaeseop about him. He brushes you off and tells you not to worry. You spend a few days in that limbo between caring and not caring, poking your nose where it doesn’t belong and minding your own business.

Then the news breaks. It comes from Mingeun in the group chat—nothing more than taein’s wife is divorcing him lol. Then he changes the subject and asks if anyone’s seen his headphones. Jaeseop confirms it a minute later, then asks if you can all not talk about it.

It slights you more than it should. You know Mingeun and Jaeseop are close. You know Mingeun never takes no for an answer. You still want to be part of that in-group that gets to know the full story as it develops. 

When the news breaks in public a couple of days later, you keep track. That’s your responsibility, after ll, your finger on the pulse of any news, good or bad, about you and about Fable. You read through the reputable sources, then the less reputable ones. They talk about Taein’s past: his first divorce, his less than amicable departure from SM Entertainment, how a small company could finance a debut with as many promotions as Fable had—and all the opportunities you had. Then the next major news story breaks, and everyone forgets about Taein.

Not you. You can’t. You walk on eggshells around him, though to be honest, you don’t see him much. You know his schedule well enough to avoid him.

Until the day he asks to see you. He corners you—it seems like he knows your schedule just as well as you know his—as soon as you arrive back from a photoshoot. He stands outside the entrance to the parking garage, smoking a cigarette. Daewoong looks unfazed.

“We need to speak,” Taein says. You’ve barely had the chance to step outside.

You nod silently. You saw this coming. You watch him flick the ash off the butt of his cigarette and discard it to the ground.

You follow him into the building, and then up the elevator, still in silence. You’ll have to defend yourself soon, and you need the time to think. You can broker another deal with him. You’ll have to. You’ve grown too lax in your position, too self-assured and confident that nothing could go wrong, because nothing goes wrong until it does. You’re the face of Fable. You have more bargaining power now than you did four years ago when you were no one.

“Have a seat,” Taein says, unlocking the door to his office. You can’t remember when he started locking it.

You sit. He locks the door behind him, and that’s when you begin to think you might be in trouble.

You watch him sit in his much nicer seat and start up his computer. He’s looking at the screen when he asks, “Do you know what I wanted to talk to you about, Haksu?”

You weigh your options. You have a guess. It’s a very good guess. You don’t know what he wants to hear. It knocks you off balance.

“I can hear the gears in your head turning,” Taein says. He’s still not looking at you.

“I have a guess,” you say, perfectly neutral.

“I’d like to hear it.”

You take a deep breath. “You want to talk about our deal.”

“Precisely. You should have said it with more confidence.” Now he tears his gaze away from the screen to give you a once-over. You bear it.

You begin to lay your pieces in front of you. “The footage is irrelevant now. If I were to reveal it, it’d destroy both of us.”

You have more to say, but Taein interrupts you. “You, more than me. So you understand. It’s time we close that chapter of our lives, once and for all. We won’t need to speak of it again. It will be like it never happened.”

“Until you marry again and cheat once again.”

Taein laughs. “I’m old, Haksu-ah. I doubt I have a third marriage in me.”

He treats marriage and divorce like toys. You despise it. Marriage is a sacred covenant, not something to play with and discard. You want to weaponize it against him, but it’s difficult when he doesn’t share the same ideals as you.

“I want the other part of our bargain to stay the same,” you propose.

Taein's smile nearly vanishes. “No, I don't think so.”

Truth be told, you’re accustomed to all the good things that have come your way. The solo television appearances and jobs and endorsements and advertisements. You take it all in like a man starving. You can't give that up.

“I’m the public face of Fable,” you say. “You made me into it. Without me, who do you have?”

“It might be time for a change,” Taein muses. “Someone else can take the lead. I think Byeonghwi might be a good choice.”

He can’t be serious. Byeonghwi could never do what you do. None of them could.

“Wouldn’t it be strange?” you press. “To have someone else represent the group? The fans and the public are used to me.”

“You’re a member of a group,” Taein says in a tone that leaves little room for argument. “You’ll have to share the spotlight.”

That’s the last thing you want to do. You’ve worked hard for your place in the sun. You can’t just concede it. You grasp for straws, trying, desperately, to come up with a trump card. You find yourself lacking one. It’s no matter, you tell yourself. You found one before. You can find one again.

You swallow back any sort of lesser argument. “Fine.”

“I'm glad we're in agreement,” he says pleasantly. “You can keep the photos, if you'd like. Or you can post them online, if you'd like that more. It was never about them anyway.”

The world tilts dangerously around you. “What do you mean?” you ask, unsure if you want to hear the answer.

“All you got from them was a chance,” he says. “I will admit you forced my hand in accepting you as a trainee. Everything after that was your work.”

“Then I would have debuted anyway? I would have been the face of the group anyway? I could have shown your wife the pictures and you wouldn’t care?”

Taein nods. “It would have been unpleasant at the time. It was a surprise my marriage lasted until now.” 

You understand, suddenly, the appeal of violence. Taein, sitting directly in front of you, is the root cause of every problem you've ever had as a member of Fable, and even before that. It would be so simple to reach across his desk and—. You stop yourself. You spend too much time with Mingeun.

"Blackmailing your boss really isn't a good look, Haksu-ssi," Taein says, clearly oblivious to the thoughts racing through your mind.

You shift in your seat so that you're sitting on your hands. He seems so smug and self-confident, wielding his superior intellect over you. You can’t stand it.

"You went along with it," you say. You try to stay calm. You can feel your control slipping away from you. "You said we had a deal."

"We did," he concedes. "I would have upheld my side of the bargain no matter what. You're the one who constantly thought about it. I ask to speak to you, and the first thing you always said was something related to your blackmail. Clearly, it was important to you. You brought this upon yourself."

That was good. You know that. You wouldn't be here, if not for your investigative skills. You earned your spot, in more ways than one. And yet, there’s something about the way Taein speaks, about his tone of voice and his choice of words that make you feel like a child being reprimanded by an adult well-versed in the ways of the world. You know nothing, and he knows everything.

"It was a pleasure working with you, sajang-nim," you say, voice tight. You're not going to cry, but you think you might scream.

Taein smiles at that. “I don’t think it was for you. I appreciate your sentiment nonetheless.” 

You don't take Taein at his word. You can't. He's shown, now, that you can't trust him. You think you're playing checkers, and he's five steps ahead of you in chess. Two can play at that game. You made a bargain with him before, when you were younger and more naive. You have the experience now. And you know Taein's reputation is far from spotless.

This time around, you have a bit more money and a lot less free time. You refuse to let go of your bargain, and more importantly, you want to get Taein back. So you hire a private investigator, a middle-aged man who’s supposedly good at his job, near the high end of your budget. You do it all online, staring at your computer screen only at angles at which no one else can see it. You lay out the bare bones of your situation through emails: this is your boss, you’re a lowly employee, you’re dissatisfied with the current state of the company, you want to know if he has any sort of illegal dealings. It's a bit of a jump from the third point to the fourth, but the investigator doesn't ask. 

He gets back to you a couple of days later. You open the email minutes after it arrives, curling up on one end of your apartment’s couch with a coffee. It’s straightforward and professional. You skip over the pleasantries and focus on the important part, where the investigator has written Lee Taein’s company, Zenith Entertainment, is partially owned by Ahn Jinguk, one of the sons of Danyoung Group chairman Ahn Changok. As far as the financial state of the company is concerned, all business is legitimate. However, unless you are the heir to Samsung or Hyundai and capable of outbidding the Ahns, I will no longer be investigating Lee Taein. I wish you luck in your future investigative endeavors, should you still be interested. As a next possible step, I have attached some information about a few other individuals of interest.  

Underneath all of that is a series of names, occupations, and pictures of everyone else with a stake in Zenith Entertainment. You think you might have seen some of these people around the building before, though their names are unfamiliar. 

You’re so focused on your phone screen that you don’t register Mingeun coming up behind you, until he says, “What’re you looking at?”

His breath ghosts over your ear as he leans on the edge of the couch and peers over your shoulder. You jump, clicking your phone screen off. “Nothing.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” Mingeun says. You can practically hear him scowling. He’s been more of a nuisance than normal over the past couple of months, ever since Jaeseop told him he wasn’t going to be part of their upcoming promotions because he’s technically still on hiatus. “So? Talking to a girl?”

You take a moment to respond. You could tell him the truth. Now that you and everyone else know what he’s been through—what Taein put him through—you think he’d understand your decisions, even if he’s a terrible Catholic and the one time you brought him to Mass was a disaster.

“It’s a long story.”

Mingeun drops into the seat next to you. “I have all day. I didn’t think you were the type to date as an idol.”

You flush. "I'm not dating anyone. Can we talk somewhere more private?"

You don't know where Eunsu and Byeonghwi are, but you don't want to risk them overhearing your conversation, should they interrupt.

Mingeun raises an eyebrow. "Sounds exactly like what someone who isn't dating would say. Your room or mine?"

You know Mingeun's room is akin to a pig sty. "Mine."

As it turns out, your bedroom isn’t much better. It’s not like you get visitors, because you don’t have a girlfriend. You sit on your bed. Mingeun sits on the floor. There isn’t much more space in the room. Your desk is entirely monopolized by your laptop and a stack of notebooks. Your desk chair is being used as a bar stool in the kitchen, though it’s a bit too short for that.

“I don’t have a girlfriend,” you begin, because Mingeun seems a bit too fixated on that. “This is related to how I joined the group.”

Mingeun’s expression turns hostile. You can practically see him remembering your first few trainee days.

You pick and choose your words. You’ve parleyed with Taein; you can have this conversation with Mingeun. 

“I also made a deal with him,” you say, as if you two are one and the same, “though it was a bit different from yours. I discovered he was cheating on his wife. I exchanged keeping that information a secret for a debut.”

“You blackmailed him.” Mingeun’s voice is an icy monotone. “Then you came in here and took my spot.”

It sounds bad when he says it like that. You never took anyone’s spot. If you had, then Mingeun wouldn’t be here at all.

“I didn’t,” you say, but he barrels over you.

“You did. I was the best vocalist until Andrew-hyung joined, and then I was the second best vocalist until you came along. When you’re third best, you might as well be nothing. It means you’re not good enough. You’re not talented enough, you’re not skilled enough, you haven’t worked hard enough.” He’s standing now, beginning an erratic circuit around your room. 

You let him cool down a little before you speak again. “I’m sorry,” you offer, as if that's going to fix anything.

He fixes you with a baleful glance, and you're suddenly thankful he hasn't punched any holes in your walls. It looks like he's inching closer and closer to it, hands balled into fists, jaw so tight he might pop a vein. You're surprised that he doesn't have permanent indents in his palms from his fingernails.

“Did you know,” he says slowly, “that a few months before we learned we were going to debut, Taein-nim cut me from the lineup? For you.”

“I didn’t know,” you say softly, staring at the ground. “It worked out for you.”

"It did not 'work out' for me," Mingeun says, air-quotting your words back at you. "If it 'worked out' for me, I would be in NCT right now. It 'worked out' because Jaeseop-hyung argued for me. He managed to convince Taein-nim to debut me as well."

All of this is news for you. You wonder how long Mingeun has kept all of this bottled up. The last three years, presumably. Almost the same length of time he spent lying about where he grew up and what his childhood was like. There's nothing you can say to reassure him. You know this, because you've tried before. Mingeun isn't a conversationalist. Once he gets worked up about something, the dialogue becomes one-sided and there's little to do but wait until he cools off.

You present him with a question of your own anyway. "If you had an opportunity to do what I did," you ask, "would you have done the same?"

You know that if you were in his position, left with no choice but to disguise your identity, to hide who you truly were in order to debut, you'd do it.

Mingeun only glares at you. "I don't want to know what you're up to anymore. I don't care."

He doesn't answer your question. You take that to mean he agrees. He storms out of your room, and you give him a few minutes on his own before you follow to retrieve your coffee.

You can’t make another deal with Taein. For once, you’re out of ideas. You have no cards left to play, no aces hidden up your sleeve. You’ve been the face of Fable for three years. That will have to be enough.

The change comes quickly—faster than you thought it would. Byeonghwi is the one with the extra schedules: the solo endorsements, the variety show appearances as a representative of the group, the music show MC position. Those were yours, once upon a time.

When the opportunities do start coming your way again, it's never you alone. It's you and Eunsu, or you and Byeonghwi, or you and Andrew. Once you stop to think about it, all those pairings make logical sense. You and Eunsu are basically inseparable in Fable's group shows, because you're always hanging onto him. You and Byeonghwi and the two faces of Fable. You and Andrew are the backbone of the group's music as the main vocalists. It's infuriating. You despise it.

Your current situation has you and Byeonghwi as guests on a radio show, promoting your soon-to-released album alongside a mostly rookie cast promoting their soon-to-be released film. It was supposed to be you and Eunsu, but Eunsu’s older brother passed away recently, and he left for home a few days ago.

You told Daewoong you’d be fine going by yourself. He gave you a rather disinterested look and said the program’s director requested two representatives. 

When you're sitting in the radio program’s studio, comically oversized headphones on the table in front of you, it almost feels like normal. As long as you pretend Byeonghwi isn't sitting right next to you. Before you’re on air, you make polite conversation with the actors. There are three of them: two young men and one young woman. You try, as you sit there, to match their faces to the film poster on the wall behind them. It’s a bit difficult, because the film is some sort of gritty, post-apocalyptic one, and their faces are covered in fake blood and gore.

You do your best. You’re charming. You’re cordial. You’re kind. Byeonghwi tries to join the conversation twice, and you ice him out subtly both times. He takes the hint. No one else seems to notice.

Then the host begins the show, and you’re on air. It’s just as much of a performance as being on stage is, and you don’t disappoint. You introduce yourself: you’re Haksu from Fable, in charge of the group’s vocals. Then you introduce your sixth mini album, 환호작약, releasing in two weeks. The tracks were all written by your group members, and the title track, 멋, is an upbeat trap anthem driven by a taepyeongso. You’ve worked hard for this, and you hope everyone will listen to and enjoy the songs.

You’re comfortable, relaxing as the film cast introduce themselves and their characters. You learn the movie’s plot follows three high school students who become trapped in their school when the apocalypse begins. Cut off from the outside world, the students quickly turn on each other, forming and breaking alliances. In line with that—and not with your album—the radio program’s episode is themed around school. You’re prepared, like you always are, your mind full of anecdotes and advice, though you were never a good student. Byeonghwi wasn’t either. The two of you are here regardless.

The first question tackles favorite subjects. You’re seconds away from responding, leaning into your microphone to speak. Your favorite subject was, of course, art. You’ve been in choirs all your life. It’s what made you want to become a singer.

So when the host turns to Byeonghwi and asks, “Byeonghwi-ssi, since you’re the youngest, could you go first?”

You disguise the beginning of your sentence with a cough.

Byeonghwi seems a bit surprised, but he recovers quickly. “I liked PE a lot. When I was in high school, I was on my school’s soccer team. Growing up, I wanted to play professionally.”

The eyes of one of the actors—his name has slipped your mind already—light up, and he launches into his own similar story. This must have been planned, and you weren’t involved. You’ve never been athletic. You survive Mingeun’s dance practices and that’s enough for you. The two of them embark on a lengthy conversation about Son Heung-min that the host has to interrupt to steer the show back on track.

For some reason you weren’t consulted on, all the questions are directed towards Byeonghwi, not you. He talks about clubs—his soccer team again—and cliques—how he transferred to high school in Seoul and developed a poor reputation because he sat in the back of the classroom and was absent often, a story you and your fans have heard countless times before—and preparing for the suneung. He didn’t even go to university. You did, but no one asks you for advice. You sit in silence as he gets a faraway look in his eyes, recounting cram schools and private tutors and self-discipline.

Everyone seems oblivious to your plight. The film cast laughs along with Byeonghwi’s stories, the same way they joked around with you before the program started.

Then comes the program’s main event, posing the same question the film’s cast deals with: who would you choose to survive the apocalypse with? As per usual, Byeonghwi goes first.

“Haksu-hyung, of course,” he begins. That was a given, but it means you now need to choose him as well. When you and Eunsu planned your responses, you both agreed to name each other. You had no such agreement with Byeonghwi.

“He’s reliable and everyone likes him. People are drawn to him. He’d be a good leader,” Byeonghwi continues. “And Yejun-hyung. He’s smart and would definitely survive.”

You have to admit you like hearing speak so highly of you.

When it’s finally your turn to speak, you say, “I’d pick Byeonghwi.”

A reason isn’t in any of your plans, so you make one up on the spot. “His athleticism makes him a good asset, but he might leave me behind if we had to escape,” you joke, before quickly moving on. “I’d also want Jaeseop-hyung.”

Your first pick, had you been in a real apocalyptic situation, would also be Andrew, but you doubt the three of you are some sort of survival situation dream team.

“He’s reliable and we get along well,” you finish.

You don’t speak much for the rest of the program. You sulk quietly instead, because Byeonghwi and the actors are doing most of the talking, and no one bothers to include you in the conversations. It would have been better if Daewoong let you go alone.

The on-air light finally clicks off, and your torture ends. You pull your headphones off, happy to be free of the weight. Byeonghwi stretches in his seat, a bright grin on his face. “That was fun! Did you have fun, hyung?”

You grunt out a noise that could be positive or negative. Of course he had fun. He was the one who got to speak. All you did was introduce yourself and your new album. Your sole consolation is that the main focus was on the actors, not on the two of you. You’re the face of the group. It just feels wrong for anyone else to represent the eight of you. 

You grit your teeth and bite your tongue and force a smile to your face for the usual round of polite goodbyes and closing remarks with the show's host.

Byeonghwi beams brightly. “I hope we can do it again.”

You echo his sentiment out loud. Inwardly, you know that once is more than enough for this experience.

After that, the promotions of your latest mini album come to a smooth close. The night of the recording of your farewell stage puts everyone in a good mood—until Mingeun ruins it all.

He’s in the dorm when you arrive, which is a surprise, because he spends most of his time with the band. You didn’t think he wanted to see the rest of the group during the promotional period he was excluded from.

You also didn’t think he was part of your little after party—a kickback, according to Andrew. The distinctions between types of American parties have never been of interest to you.

No one else minds. Mingeun slips in like he was just at your music show performance, though he’s drinking water, not alcohol. He’s standing in the kitchen, shoulder to shoulder with Eunsu, when he suddenly announces, loud enough for everyone to hear, “Haksu-hyung has something to share.”

You, leaning against the counter amidst your conversation with Andrew, do not, in fact, have anything to share. You play along anyway. “A toast,” you say, raising your soju bottle. “To our successful promotions.”

You didn’t win a single music show this time around, but there are another measurements. Your sales numbers are good. Your fansigns are successful. No one experienced a life-threatening scandal.

“That’s not what I’m talking about,” Mingeun says. He’s not raising his water bottle. You lower your drink.

You watch Jaeseop’s gaze ping-pong between the two of you, more curious than anything.

Mingeun takes a seat in your desk chair. “Haksu-hyung wants to tell us how he became an idol.”

You want to do nothing of the sort. You know it won’t end well. No one—not even Andrew—is drunk enough to hear it.

“He told me recently,” Mingeun continues. “I thought everyone else might want to know.”

“There’s something we don’t know?” Byeonghwi asks, ever innocent. You assume there are a lot of things he doesn’t know.

You try to downplay it. “There isn’t much to say. I wanted to be an idol, and I managed to find Taein-nim, who was willing to give me a chance.”

To your horror, Jaeseop speaks up. “To be honest, I’m curious about that too. Your story’s never added up, and Samchon doesn’t like talking about you.” He starts to count on his fingers. “I recruited Intak and Kiyoung-hyung. Mingeun and Eunsu knew Samchon from SM. Andrew and Byeonghwi passed the audition. You don’t fit into any of those categories. So?”

You know that. You wince at the reminder. You can feel the weight of everyone’s eyes on you, even Intak and Kiyoung, who might as well be a world away in the living room. You swallow roughly. Your throat is dry and your hands are sweating. You put your drink down before you drop it.

Mingeun spins around in your chair. It almost looks like he’s enjoying himself. “You were enthusiastic when it was the two of us. What happened?”

You trusted him. Out of everyone, you thought he’d understand you the most, and despite all his prickliness, you know that he’s trying and he means well. Usually. You also know Jaeseop and Byeonghwi and Andrew and probably Kiyoung would find your actions deplorable. 

“I thought you’d understand,” you say, picking your words carefully. You discard “sympathize” and “relate.” 

Mingeun nods slowly. “I guess you were right about that.”

That boosts your ego by only the most miniscule amount. It can’t compare to the dread swirling in your stomach. 

“Will one of you explain?” Jaeseop bursts first, nosy as he is.

“Sorry, hyung,” Mingeun says. “We’re going to say some unpleasant things about your uncle.” Then he turns to you. “I’ll help.”

Jaeseop shrugs. “I’ll survive.”

The room is silent, except for the pop of Andrew opening another bottle of beer with his now empty one. Mingeun, clearly reveling in the attention, says, “Haksu-hyung could have predicted Taein’s divorce before he became a trainee.”

“I don't get it,” Byeonghwi announces almost immediately.

“You knew,” Andrew says, surprisingly calm. 

You nod, suddenly feeling mute. Mingeun is telling your story, and for once, you don't mind.

“I still don't get it.” Byeonghwi again, of course.

“Blackmail,” Mingeun announces dramatically. “Haksu-hyung won’t admit it, but that’s what it is. He caught Taein-nim in some uncomfortable situations, and used it to become a trainee.”

It sounds much more dramatic—and much worse—when Mingeun puts it like that. His words are met mostly with silence. You stare at the kitchen counter, unwilling to make eye contact with anyone. Your secrets are revealed to the world, and strangely, you feel lighter. You didn’t Mingeun about all the time you spent staking out Zenith Entertainment and him, by extension. You don’t think you’ll ever tell anyone that, and your burden settles on your shoulders again.

“Is that accurate?” Jaeseop asks, oddly calm. Almost like Taein when he’s mad, you realize. 

“Yes,” you answer without looking at him. You like the spotlight, but right now, this is the worst it’s ever felt. Defensively, you add, “It wasn’t hard.”

Eunsu shakes his head. “Remind me never to get on your bad side.”

You don’t think you have a bad side. It was just one of the choices you had. Desperate times and desperate measures.

“At least it wasn’t revealed through the tabloids,” Mingeun says, waving his water bottle through the air. 

“This isn’t about you,” Andrew says. He’s a few paces farther from you than he was when you were talking earlier, and more than halfway through his second beer.

Mingeun ignores him. “It’s not that bad. I get it.”

“Not that bad?” Eunsu repeats. “I think it’s pretty fucking bad.”

You wince. You didn’t think he’d oppose you like this. It’s weird, because it seems like Mingeun is almost on your side, despite bringing up the topic in the first place, and you’ve never seen the two of them disagree on anything. 

Then Jaeseop says, “It’s not surprising that he’d do that.”

You think he’s talking about you, but then he adds, “My uncle. His first marriage ended the same way.” He almost cracks a smile. “I didn’t think you’d catch him.”

Byeonghwi’s eyes are wide in annoying innocence. You assume he’s wondering what happened to respecting your elders and filial piety. You’re surprised too. You know there’s little love lost between Taein and Jaeseop. You didn’t think he’d understand your logic.

“So,” Mingeun says, spinning in your chair, “does anyone else have any deep, dark secrets they'd like to share?”

"No," Andrew says. "I know not to tell you secrets."

“Would you don't have told us?" Jaeseop asks.

“I don't know," you admit. You don't like that Mingeun was the one who shared it, but the reaction you received was better than you expected. Jaeseop isn't kicking you out of the group, and if Andrew and Eunsu look at you like you have some contagious disease, well, you'll live. 

"How long did you do this for?" Kiyoung calls from the living room.

You freeze. You never told Mingeun that. He stormed out before you could get very far. You wonder if you should lie. After all, Taein said it didn't matter. You could have done this on your own. The reception is fine now, but if you tell them it helped you become the face of the group when maybe, it was supposed to be someone else, they might turn on you.

You make your decision, and pray for forgiveness.

“Not long. Like Mingen said, I used it to become a trainee."

"There were easier ways," Jaeseop says, another clear echo of Taein.

“What made you stop?" Kiyoung asks, staring intently at you.

"I didn't need it. I could do it on my own." Half lie, half truth. "I didn't want to ask for too much. It didn't feel right.”

Eunsu snorts, "Didn't realize you cared about morality."

You're trying to make it into Heaven, so you do care.

Kiyoung doesn't quite seem to believe you, but he drops the subject.

The mood never recovers, despite Byeonghwi's best attempts. You can't tell who's to blame: you, for your actions all those years ago, or Mingeun, for his insistence on the subject. You fade into the background of your own group's private party, hit with a sudden stab of fear that maybe this is your fate. Maybe you'll have nothing left. Maybe your group members are witty and charismatic and charming, and all they needed was the chance your fall from grace is now providing.

You won't let that happen. You can't let that happen. After all, you're destined for great things.

[b-courageous1010]

Things I learned while navigating the workforce

Hi everyone! I got a couple of questions the other day from @boujeeceo regarding staying focused working from home, getting noticed by management and executives and also how I network! This is from my personal experience and if anyone else has any additional tips please feel free to share! 🤗

Working from home

Desk station

It’s superrr important that you have an area that is functional and comfortable. You need to be able to produce at the same level as you would in the office without sacrificing your comfort level. You can’t really focus if you are sitting at your breakfast bar on a hard bar stool for 8 hours a day staring at a single monitor and I’m talking from experience. Now I have a standard marble desk that’s able to fit 2 monitors, a keyboard with a mouse but I still have room for a small notepad and a standard notebook and will not be cramped.

Staying focused

I keep my self on task by using the pomodoro method. Which is giving my focus to a task for a certain amount of time then follow it with a short break of max 5 minutes where I will just relax my mind maybe change my playlist or tidy my desk or a complete a misc task. Personally, I complete heavy tasks in the morning and I leave easier tasks after lunch that way I can wind down leading home. To keep my focus while doing my work I snack on healthy snacks or a protein shake so I’m not constantly thinking about lunch. Also I HIGHLY suggest planning out your day first thing in the morning so you have a sense of what your day looks like and whether or not you can complete what you need to complete. Strive to focus on 3 major tasks a day in order to not overwhelm yourself.

Getting noticed by Executives

Apply for an Internship

If you are in college apply for internships!! Today I was able to chat with a VP and she mentioned that she’s involved in the summer internship program and you would be surprised but they actually remember faces and their interactions with the interns. They also genuinely love being involved in those programs.

Lend help wherever you can

Management and Executives are looking for leaders and an effective leader is always willing to lend a helping hand. You have to show them that you are a team player because they have to be able to count on you. Always being willing to help shows them you are willing to go the extra mile but please stay within reason. Do not sacrifice your physical and mental health for a promotion, if you become ill you’re no good to anybody including yourself so be very mindful on how much you take on.

Get involved

I’m naturally quiet but thankfully my employer has mentorship programs, newsletter teams and things of that nature. I joined my departments newsletter and our Editor and chief is a Director and there were several Manager and Leads. I find that the inner organizations within a firm are run by the Executives who are doing this on personal time PLUS you have a common interest that sparks conversations.

Additional tips

Stay curious

Ask questions - make use of the higher ups office hours if they have any.

The right attitude - stay positive and be a go getter they eat that stuff up

Take pride in your work - this speaks on your work ethic

If you have weekly team meetings suggest an ice breaker to your manager this shows them you care about the team on a more personal level - I suggested we all bring HS prom pictures and that went GREAT!

How I network

Build Relationships

Since I work at an Investment Firm the company pushes connecting and building relationships. So I always make it a point say bye to my manager and we kind of bond over binge watching shows so we usually chat it up in my way out the door. I suggest trying to get to know your management teams because effective managers want to get to know you and most likely have an open door policy. But also get to know your colleagues and try to connect with common interests.

For instance right now I have a team mate who’s from Jersey so we bond because we both are from the NY/NJ area and I have another team member is into manifesting so we bond over things of that nature. I find that even my peers could have connections with important people as well and if they have kids I make it a point to ask about them. Personally, I try to remember small things about their kids because it shows you are taking a genuine interest in their lives and that’s just the type of person I am so it comes naturally to me. This establishes a personal connection and makes me feel confident enough to talk about work things. (But beware of people with ill intentions, I learned to spot them a mile away)

Get Involved!!

I’m going to sound like a broken record but if you are already at an establish company that has “extracurriculars” such as volunteering opportunities, newsletter teams and things of that nature it takes some of the edge off of networking because again we already have a common interest and the executives have these activities and clubs in place because they want you to be involved. I like to volunteer and I’m looking into applying for mentorship programs. Not only will this help you meet new people but it gets you in the face of key people at your company. But also branch out and join club outside of work for instance, if you are black and an accountant become a member of NABA (National Association for Black Accountants). They hold conferences every year with reputable companies and it’s for us!!! I know numerous people who have gotten internships at Big 4 accounting firms and other top companies. Go meet people and just put yourself out there because closed mouths don’t get fed 🤷🏾‍♀️

I hope this helps! If anyone else has any questions let me know! I’m always happy to help and share my thoughts!

[thecurioustale]

Two questions:

1. You’ve mentioned before that you write on a very, very old laptop called Joshiba. Do you have your ATH and GF drafts backed up somewhere in case it dies? 2. Out of everything you’ve ever written, what’s your favorite sentence?

1. You’ve mentioned before that you write on a very, very old laptop called Joshiba. Do you have your ATH and GF drafts backed up somewhere in case it dies?

Oh yes. Data loss is one of my least favorite things. Losing some fanfic files on the family computer as a kid cemented that aversion into me. And yet I have lost data many times since then, most notably in 2010 when my laptop Archimedes died out of nowhere, which killed most of my music compositions from one of my most important periods.

I'm quite paranoid about data loss. These days I will typically make a backup every three or four months (or less if I have done a lot of writing or otherwise feel the need to back something up sooner), and I have more than one independent backup device.

I actually got a warning just this morning on my main computer about an impending hard drive failure, so I did a full backup of that one and ordered a replacement drive.

2. Out of everything you’ve ever written, what’s your favorite sentence?

That's a deliciously provocative question, and there are so many different ways I could tackle it.

It would very likely be a fiction sentence, as I both care about my fiction more and put more effort into editing and refining it. But I should at least mention that I've done some nonfiction sentences that I'm really proud of. I love it when I can elegantly bring a thesis together, or synthesize a truly fascinating new idea, or perfectly summarize a thing. In all cases, my great nonfiction sentences are masterpieces of insightfulness and clarity. Clarity and insightfulness are the common factors, the reason you would spend your precious time reading my often-verbose, self-indulgent ramblings.

I don't have any such sentences in mind off the top of my head, sadly, or I would happily share one. I suppose I can leave it to anyone who has been a longtime reader of my journal to volunteer any favorites they can think of.

To get on with the fiction:

I put a lot of thought into first sentences: the first sentence in an entire story; the first sentence in a chapter or section; the first sentence introducing a new character; their first sentence of dialogue. When it makes sense to do so, and when I have the opportunity, I also put a lot of thought into last sentences.

There are the "high art" sentences, the ones that attempt some feat of technical prowess or showcase my skills or artistry. These tend to be longer and/or highly stylistic.

There are the "punchy" sentences: short sentences that comprise their own paragraph to underscore a point, ideally to resounding effect.

There are sentences that I am personally biased toward for external reasons, such as ones involving Silence doing Silence stuff.

There are sentences that have deep, personal resonance for whatever reason.

There are the sentences that depart from literality and become in some way transcendental, often assuming an omniscient voice and openly musing in the company of the reader.

There are sentences that don't look like much on their own but become very powerful in context. (Not unlike the aforementioned "punchy" sentences.)

And of course there are miscellaneous sentences that I just like for whatever reason.

(It's also worth noting that, with the way I write, often the great stuff is only resolvable down to the paragraph level, not the level of individual sentences. And some of it is only resolvable down to the scene level, with no great sentences per se even if the scene itself is very strong.)

Different sentences can excel in different ways, each in turn making a compelling case to be my "favorite." I can like sentences because of some aspect of their structure—their rhythm, for instance, or their alliteration or some other literary quality, or their feel on the tongue or in the eye. Or I can like sentences because of their imagery, the contents they convey, irrespective of their structure. Or I can like them because of their meta function, their role in advancing or pulling together the story or important thoughts therein. And so on. I don't consider these various properties comparable, which makes it very difficult to conceive of one supreme sentence above all others.

Even if that weren't so, the way my memory works also makes it virtually impossible for me to select a favorite without going back and rereading all the fiction I've ever written (lol) or whatever subset thereof I think most likely to produce leading candidates for my favorite.

In lieu of this I am quite limited in what my memory is able to recall at the moment on its own. The sentence that has stuck with me the most in recent months is not especially remarkable on its own; it is one of those "Silence doing Silence stuff" sentences and it really loses a lot of its punch without the context of its paragraph and wider scene, and since it is also something of a spoiler I don't think I will post it here, but it's basically an affirmation of her power, which I love.

Since writing the previous paragraph I spent over an hour looking for a good sentence in order to give you something approaching a satisfying answer, but alack my brain was not plugged into creative writing mode at all today and so I have found this a most unapproachable, inapprehensible exercise tonight. It's funny how, some days, it's like the text itself changes. There are times when I absolutely love this stuff, and times when I just don't connect with it at all, and sadly today is one of the latter.

But perhaps if you could refine the question (and catch me on a better day)? I often find that this helps to unlock my mind, if the derivative question has some new substance which helps me to conceive of the query differently.

Anyway! I've written quite a few sentences in my life. Maybe, given my complete uselessness, it would be better to ask the people who have read some of them what they think. I'd be curious to know, myself.

I can tell you one of the leading candidates for my favorite sentences that I haven't written, however. It's from Dickens:

And Scrooge said often afterwards, that of all the blithe sounds he had ever heard, those were the blithest in his ears.

For context, the preceding sentence is:

He looked so irresistibly pleasant, in a word, that three or four good-humoured fellows said, "Good morning, sir! A merry Christmas to you!"

And I suppose that says a lot about me.

[supercool-here]

The first time I finished YSBLF, I loved that Betty went from not-to-hot, but I wished she had some traits that are considered ugly and can't get rid of easily, such as overweight or acne. That was two years ago, and now I can take a step back and see the purpose underneath Betty's looks (or at least what I think it could really mean):

She is not meant to be the ugliest outcast: we have a handful of characters that have different looks and traits and are considered ugly, and in the end they get to be stylish too, so it was my mistake to think that Betty should have all the "ugly" flaws and traits and represent all the ugliness ever. Her character, although "designed" to be very unattractive, is only supposed to be one of the thousands of people who don't fit in the standards of beauty

She did, indeed, have "ugly" traits that she could not change, for instance her voice (a little decomposed and out of tune) or her laugh, and I think she did get her braces removed but I'm not sure, though she still had them for a long time after she's back at Bogotá.

I think her change of looks is very trascendental and it's not just about her appearance (sorry if it's silly to you but I didn't realize then); we're introduced to this young woman who is brilliant, smart, capable, loyal and big-hearted, but she's disregarded, often disrespected, and definitely not appreciated everywhere she goes, she won't get a job and when she does she's exploited, all because she's ugly and that somehow blinds certain people's eyes. In addition to this, she's also middle class, so she holds no power of any kind and the only people who stand up for her are her parents and her best friend, maybe some other boss or teacher she's had before, but she has no way to stand up for herself in many situations were money and power become a shield or a weapon.

That's a lowly and vulnerable position compared to were she is at the end: she is president of one of the most important companies in her country, she's the only one in charge of saving it from bankruptcy, she delivers a collection of clothes and a business model way ahead of her times, breaking anything that had been done before.

She was everyone's underdog, but that's partly her responsibility, it's hard to explain it, she was marginalized by almost everyone her entire life, and that doesn't ever change until she gets a great deal of help and decides it's time to change that; she was reluctant to changing her hair, or doing makeup, or trying new clothes, but thanks to Catalina's perseverance Betty allowed herself to step out of her mindset, she had always seen herself as ugly and had it ingrained in her soul, she did not care to change that cause she probably didn't think it possible. But she takes the risk, and the chance! (once again, cause her last attempt to change her looks failed).

To me, her going from ugly to pretty represents Betty's desire and decision to change her life. She definitely wanted it long ago, but she'd lost hope and she never really knew how, how to dress or do makeup or do her hair. Catalina is a chance and a nuisance at the same time. What Betty so much wanted, but didn't try to get anymore, that's an overwhelming offer that's easier to avoid than to accept. In Betty's "glow up" we see a materialized icon of her decision to never again be used, mocked, despised. I also think it's beautiful that she was always pretty, she just needed a little help to step out of the "cage" she and many others had enclosed her in. And of course, she had to decide to get out of it.

[mexcine]

Swipe File #5: Photo-Reference or Swipe?  Why Can’t It Be Both?  The Strange Case of the Image of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde (1932 version)

            Not all artists use models – if you’re drawing a comic book story, this would be ridiculously time-consuming, expensive, and (due to ‘comic book physics’) not necessarily useful.  However, for paintings and such, a life model could be important and – when one’s not available – reference to photographs is a time-honoured practice.  If you’re painting a magazine cover about a real person (which would include actors in their roles), access to images of that person would seem to be crucial research and not cheating, especially if the artist adds creative value to the new work.

As the very name implies, a “swipe” has a more ambiguous moral valuation.  For instance, if an editor tells an artist to paint a cover featuring the “Frankenstein monster,” and clearly wants it to be the internationally recognisable, classic Universal design (although it’s not intended to represent a specific actor or film), anyone could come up with a version of that, without resorting to reference images.  But even if the artist does look at various film photos, it only becomes a “swipe” if he or she deliberately copies a particular image.

Today’s Swipe File features both photo-reference and swipe examples.  In 1932, Fredric March starred in Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde, wearing heavy, bestial makeup in the Hyde role.  Artist Basil Gogos painted a portrait of March-as-Hyde that was published on the cover of “Famous Monsters of Filmland” 62 (February 1970).   Gogos didn’t merely copy a photograph from the film and add colour, he created a new work of art – but he didn’t significantly alter the way the character looks, or the particular pose from the photo, so this is (to some degree) a “swipe.”

Spanish publishers Ibero Mundial de ediciones began publishing “Dossier Negro” in 1968.  124 issues were printed through 1979 before another company took over the title. This magazine featured black-and-white horror comic stories, some originals, and some reprints from U.S. magazines like “Eerie,” and various Skywald titles such as “Scream” and “Nightmare.”  The May 1975 issue (#72) reprinted the Gogos portrait of Mr. Hyde on its cover, presumably with permission from the U.S. publisher (they’d been re-using Warren magazine covers from “Eerie,” “Creepy,” and “Famous Monsters of Filmland” for a number of years). However, “Dossier Negro” was not a “monster movie magazine,” it was a horror-comic magazine, so the image is not “Fredric March as Mr. Hyde,” it’s just “a monster guy.”  Is it a still a swipe if it was legally reprinted (albeit slightly altered)?  Your opinion may vary.

The other two examples shown here also photo-reference Dr. Jeykll and Mr. Hyde (1932).  The publisher was Australian-based Gredown, which issued over 300 such publications – the majority one-shots – in the 1970s and 1980s.  The contents were again reprints from U.S. comics and magazines, with some other international stories as well.  According to https://ausreprints.net/article/21 most of the Gredown covers were “originals” (i.e., not reprints from the source comics/magazines from which the interior stories were taken) produced by Spanish art agencies or local Australian artists.

Both artists on these covers closely copy the character and pose of Mr. Hyde from film stills, but both do embellish the artwork, adding other details.  However, the point is that neither of these images are intended to represent a specific movie character/scene, but are generic “horror” images, and thus there’s no inherent reason for the character to look like Mr. Hyde (unless the publisher somehow thought Australian readers would have been influenced to purchase the magazine by seeing a character from a 1932 movie).  These are therefore photo-referenced “swipes.”