i have suddenly become obsessed with a theme that HoO established but never proceeded to extrapolate on, which is:
You are Percy Jackson, and you have been swapped with a boy who was allegedly everyone's favorite person, but they have decided to replace him with you. They just met you. You stand next to his best friend and the people he's known his entire life. In his home. In his cloak. In his place. They stopped looking for him.
You are Jason Grace, and you have just found out you have a long lost sister who completely replaced you in her life with this girl you just met. Your lives and personalities are mirrors. She is you, living the life you were robbed of.
You are Annabeth Chase, and you have just become starkly aware that you have been inhabiting the void left behind by your best friend's long lost brother. You and Luke were just replacements for him. Now you have to look him in the eyes when he has nothing and know you took that life from him.
You are Piper McLean, and you have just found out your relationship is fake and built entirely on the memories of Annabeth Chase. You have been given a boyfriend when hers has been taken away. You have no idea how much of it is real or not but regardless you feel like if your relationship isn't exactly in their image that you have failed.
You are Leo Valdez, and you have just learned that you are the echo of your great-grandfather. You are not your own person. You just exist to be a mirror of him. A doppelganger. An actor and stunt double facing all the danger he never had to but wearing his face. To be there for his best friend decades later simply because he couldn't. You are playing a role. A seventh wheel and a pawn for a goddess who carefully sculpted your entire life for her own purposes.
You are Hazel Levesque, and the only reason you are alive is because your brother couldn't save your his sister. You are a consolation prize. An apology. Your existence here is misplaced in every way but you inhabit it anyways.
You are Frank Zhang, and you are a shapeshifter. Inhabiting your own body feels strange and clumsy when you could be literally anything at any time. You are anything and everything and live your life with the simple certainty of knowing exactly how you will die.
online buddy of mine (born in 2004) said “i strongly suspect the vast majority of ‘I'll always remember where I was on 9/11’ stories are not true. I simply don't believe that 75% of people were watching the news live at 8:45 in the morning on a Tuesday when the strangest thing happened.” and like. okay. we can talk about the aftermath in the 22 years since 9/11 and the horrific and evil jingoism that ruined countless lives in decades-long wars all we want. but i cannot overstate enough that 1) we still very much had a monoculture in 2001. most americans would watch either the today show or GMA. 2) as soon as that first plane hit every news station in the country was covering it. schools and businesses and break rooms turned on every tv. every radio. anything that had the ability to broadcast the news. (smartphones weren’t a thing. cell phones and the internet existed but they were new and fragile. unreliable. your best bet was still to sit there and watch. or listen.) and we all sat there and watched the second plane hit and the pentagon hit and the towers collapse and flight 93. so, yes: basically everyone who was alive and old enough to form lasting memories in 2001 remembers that day and the coverage. even people who weren’t near a tv or radio in real time remember where they were and what they were doing when they heard the news. they probably even remember the reason why they didn’t hear about it in real time. i was 5 years old in my first week of first grade and i remember it. it was like. the biggest thing to happen in this country since fucking. pearl harbor. bigger. there’s no need to downplay that.
I think such a big reason my trans manhood feels almost... bigendered is simply because in the eyes of most people (specifically cis people with whom I interact with most), I straddle this weird line wherein I am a man and often am seen as one, but I am also clearly undefinable insofar as cis theory goes, clearly queer, clearly outside of manhood if one only accepts cishet, patriarchal manhood. This definitely used to be a source of dysphoria for me, but I think now that I've transitioned, it's been interesting to explore this more. Am I wholly a man? Yes. Am I a man of multitudes? Yes. Do these multitudes contradict? Well, that depends on your definition of "contradiction"
"Did you get in trouble for taking the cup into the ocean?"
"Yes. Yes."
"Did Rodrigues? He took it in there too!"
"Did he?"
"Yeah!"
"Well, I mean, I brought it under the water—looking back..."
"What happened?"
"You bring silver into the ocean, saltwater—no!"
"Oh, I didn't know that."
"I haven't slept! How am I supposed to know? Nobody told me the rules!"
"You haven't slept!"
"Yeah, but you're naughty—"
"But hey! If I would've known about it... oh no, I still probably would've done it. Still probably would've done it!"
"Dude, who cares! That thing has been abused all through the years!"
"No, no! The cup guys understood, the cup keepers understood—they, you know, told me the rules after and I swear to God I didn't know before but, yeah. Great memories! Great pictures!
Cam & Strick Podcast | 8.27.24 (x)
oceangate evolves further the more we talk about it so if youd like to see the other previous developments in concerns to it...
and also because its funny here are some of the times the cup has been held near or above water both salt, fresh and chlorine alike since oceangate in no particular order
and i just think its very clear when oceangate happened because now everyones holding the cup high above the water/near bodies of water and not letting it get dunked
but pre-oceangate the cup was just dunked in maffhews pool hours after they won it (which was before they went to las olas and welp the rest is history)
FOR A BEAT OF HEART, THE BREATH IS SHOT.
AND WITHIN A BREATH, THE HEART IS CAUGHT.
THE PIPES ARE BURSTING, UNDER GREAT STRESS,
BOLTS TORN ASUNDER, MAKING A MESS.
A FINAL COUGH, A FINAL RETCH,
A GOREY SLOUGH, CLAIMED BY WRETCH.
Oh, so, like, the entire first season's establishment of the characters and their interactions don't actually matter in Helluva Boss. Okay, cool.
Like, I get that characterization develops over time and the writers come up with new ideas and places they want to take the story, but. So much of the Stolas/Blitzø stuff recently isn't character development: it's retconning.
Shipping Cassandra and Leliana is so funny because I feel like the only people who actually do it have either only played Inquisition or don't think much past "Well they're the Left and Right Hands of the Divine" because you KNOW they only get along to the extent they do in Inquisition because they've never had an actual conversation because the second Leliana opened her mouth about her theology in front of Cassandra, they would have been trying to strangle each other
I think someone should study the fact that all of the moral issues people have with coleen hoover are just the modern day version of "this erotic literature will corrupt our pure women!"
"as time passed, we gradually began to feel that the worst was over. we still had to heal our physical and mental wounds, but we really started to come back to life."
"Someone said it, I forget who said it but, like, 'you dream your entire life on being on a team that freakin' good.' Right? It was meant to be—it was destiny. That save Bob made not even fucking looking? Like I bought the t-shirt! 'The Bobbery!' It's—"
"Fuck, yeah!"
"Bob—What's he like?"
"That's the kind-of shit that you realise is just destiny...in my opinion..."
"Does he talk?"
"Does he smile?"
"Bob? Yeah! Bob's awesome! Yeah, yeah—again, one of those perfect people."
The Cam & Strick Podcast | 7.30.24 (x)
even ekky isnt immune to good merch hats off to breakingt thats ekkys most prised possession now XD