#it eventually got to this point (which is fortunate because that other essay was going to be even worse that this one)

[merionettes]

part 1 of how rubicon got written is here. this is part 2, aka the essay about etc.

the thing about the storyboarding/drafting process that there is no way to describe is how totally obsessed i was for the duration. afterwards i tweeted something like, this is the closest i've ever experienced to demonic possession. i would get up, write all day—like, all day—and go to bed. turn off the lights. then i would just lie wide awake in the dark with lines and scenes and dialogue scrolling through my head until i gave in and opened my notes app. i could not turn it off even if i wanted to. and i didn't want to, i was riding that streak as far as it would take me. because i couldn't look down, right? i could sense what i was attempting to do and anything other than total tunnel vision full speed ahead eyes on the prize would mean i had to acknowledge it.

(context of what made this possible: i was unemployed at the time.)

for the first ~50k or so i was afraid that at any minute i could falter. when i got to the nationals meltdown, that was when i knew i could do it. like, no matter what happened after that, i had the willpower and the chops and i knew where i was going. even if the streak died.

but it didn't. i wrote 100k in a little under 4 weeks. i've never experienced anything like that in my creative life. 

—then obviously i had to get a new job and come back down to earth and it took 21 months to get from there to posting the epilogue. still. i will probably be chasing that high for the rest of my life. that was the part that like… made the rest of it possible. no matter how difficult or frustrating it was. that generated the roadmap. 

i've talked about this before in comments but i had insanely strong opinions about what was "right" and what wasn't. sylvain's narrative voice was a huge part of that. it's inextricable from the content; it shaped the story; it is the story. for the first couple months it also made me an unhinged stylistic tyrant. if there was one single unnecessary word that struck me as inorganic, as existing solely to make the sentence more digestible or to convey information beyond the fourth wall, it had to go. i could not rest until it did. 

once again: this is not generally the relationship i have with writing. lol. it's the demonic possession talking. this is why you have a ton of sentence fragments and stylistic tics and a refusal to let one single shred of information into the text that did not strike me as something sylvain would plausibly think or acknowledge he was thinking. and like, yeah. probably it didn't always make for the smoothest reading experience or the most satisfying narrative development. i'm dead certain there are people who picked this fic up and the bumps drove them out of their mind until they threw in the towel. i just didn't care. 

part of that was a reaction to my own old style—you know, the discomfort of shedding old skin. i'd look at those early scene attempts and see all the habits and crutches i'd been trying to move away from over the last two years and double down on The Voice. but part of it… i would get early feedback that wasn't at all wrong, like "what if [clarifying narration]," "what if [more interaction]," and i'd just think, but that's not true. in exactly those words! which is crazy.

(this is why it was fortunate this was fanfiction i was writing for free, i didn't have to compromise my bonkers experience any more than i wanted to.)

to be clear this feeling didn't last two years. i was eventually able to edit like a normal person. it did last probably longer than ideal. and the point when i was no longer running on unleaded creative adrenaline was when i started to really struggle with the middle of the story. i had to make choices as a writer, instead of relying on the purity of my divine vision or whatever, and i second-guessed myself a lot. it was much easier to feel that absolute bone-deep certainty of Right and Wrong, True and False. and the thought of fucking up when i'd gotten so far was unbearable—like, being so close to making the thing in my head reality and then dropping the ball and breaking the suspension of disbelief.

distance also made it possible to perceive what i was doing and be like, jesus mer what the fuck are you doing. why are you devoting so much of your time to a hobby, why are you investing so much of your life in something you will never be able to truly share, why are you living in a hole with no one else in it. why are you putting yourself through the wringer to get it down "right." why does it matter if it's as good as it can be. why do you care. why is this worth it.

i assume this was pretty obvious before this post, but if not it must be now. this story isn't really about figure skating. for me it's about writing; who knows what it's about for you. i didn't sit down and think, great, felix will be a metaphor. that's just how it happens. 

the experience of writing a novel for the first time: i'm saying this with my whole chest because at one point i wouldn't have, aloud. but what's the point in calling it anything else? i know exactly how much i invested in this. i'm the only one who can know. that's sort of the point. 

here's a giant collage of the inside of my head. i made it for myself and i take it very seriously. not exactly groundbreaking to say this is the ultimate exercise in solipsism. when you're doing that—what greater gift is there than to have someone else meet you in exactly the same place. any writer would kill for the kind of responses this story has gotten, and i don't mean praise. i mean the close reads, the free response essays, the total and complete validation that this thing inside your head that only you can see is real, actually. when i say thank you, it's not for liking it or praising it—it's for taking it seriously. i loved this thing. i still love this thing. thank you for taking it seriously.

[jerrytrancomedy]

I still like this photo. More now. Less back then, when I would cringe from imagining my protruding belly popping those shirt buttons. I'm grateful for this picture, though. It inspired me to change and be as strong as those buttons.

Dieting and weight loss are both complex and sensitive topics, so the point of this blog post/essay isn’t to give unsolicited advice or tell anyone what to do. All bodies and situations are different, and what worked for me may not work for someone else. What follows are only my thoughts regarding the inner transformation I experienced alongside the outer one. I write this hoping it provides some value to others. And to brag.  

I used to think I looked like a grownup test tube baby of a Care Bear and the Pillsbury Doughboy's donated sperm. Probably not a surprise then that I was unhappy with my body and appearance, and I dealt with that unhappiness by avoiding and repressing it. Constantly sweeping dust under the carpet created a mean, filthy monster that eventually escaped and wreaked havoc inside me. I swore to fight back against this sad inner demon by improving my physical and mental health. I had wanted to work on both for quite some time but never did because I knew doing so would be hard, and I was soft. God forgot to turn on the timer, so he pulled me out of the oven way too early-soft. In grade school, when it was time to tumble in gym class, I would leave, hang out inside a restroom stall, and tip-toe back right before it ended-soft. Believing this for most of my life had me feeling hollow, like an empty roll of toilet paper.   

A big reason it took me so long to get started on this particular journey (I'm 40) was having emotional baggage as far as the third eye could see. I lacked ambition because wanting meant doing, and in my mind attempting anything of consequence equaled failing. Mockery, humiliation, and shitty feelings that I did not want to feel would then follow. I could coast, though, and coast I did until I got tired of seeing life pass me by. Perfectionism also contributed to my inaction and inspired the only exercise I used to do: beating myself up. If I couldn't do something perfectly immediately, why even bother? There was no big epiphany-producing event like winning "Most Likely to Have the Next Midlife Crisis" at my twenty-year high school reunion either. That would have made for a better story. The simple, boring truth is I started to change once I stopped procrastinating. After seeing that swingset photo, I ordered a kettlebell and then celebrated by placing an order for Thai food on Uber Eats.         

Once I finally started going to the gym regularly and watching what I ate, my overall sense of well-being began improving. I was also conflicted about the ugly truth of why I was doing this in the first place, which was for shallow, superficial, or aesthetic reasons if we want to be pretentious. I wanted to be hot but did not want to become one of those people I used to roll my eyes at from a distance. The meatheads, the aggro guys with too much testosterone, the wannabe fitness influencers. People I used to judge and was secretly a tad bit jealous of. Not wanting to waste any momentum, I kept moving, shrugged my shoulders, and said, "whatever it takes." Thankfully, over time, a greater purpose started to grow like a caterpillar doing pushups inside its cocoon. 

Fortunately, severe hunger pangs from my diet’s calorie restriction weren't an issue. Unfortunately, occasional waves of fatigue and lethargy that swallowed me whole and left me in a zombie-like limbo between awake and asleep were. Those states usually led to taking a 1-2 week-long diet break, which I did every 6-8 weeks. The diet breaks helped with not having hunger pangs, as did doing PG-13 stuff to freshly-used peanut butter spoons. One embarrassing setback that happened was misreading the labels on the large chicken breasts I used to eat before becoming an ovo-vegetarian and counting all of them as 4 ounces. That threw a wrench in my calorie counting but buying a kitchen scale to weigh food resolved that issue. These stumbling blocks reminded me to slow down and be patient, a quality I often forgot or overlooked in the past. If I had rushed things, I probably would have made more mistakes, felt like a failure, and ended up quitting. Every painful reminder would have then been deleted, including the thirst trap photos, which, sad to say, would have been a personal tragedy.    

A new identity started forming around sticking to a weight training program, adhering to my diet, and not burning my face while cooking. Those statements also turned into mantras after adding "I'm someone who..." in front of them. Whenever the road got bumpy, I would say them aloud with intense passion, which probably explains the looks I get from my next-door neighbor. And it worked! After dieting for more than a year and a half, I recently ended it. I’m happy with my effort and progress, even though I didn’t accomplish my initial goal of having Calvin Klein underwear model-like six-pack abs. After clinging to that target for so long, which I now realize was unrealistic since I’m still relatively new to lifting weights, my ego was bruised. I did not have enough muscle mass to be that ripped. That was when I begrudgingly accepted that not everyone has the genetics to sell overpriced tighty whities. Some are 5’6”, broad-shouldered, and built more like the starting fullback of whatever college football team the hobbits from Lord of the Rings went to, and that’s okay. 

There were several practices I did that fostered this transformation. When perfectionism reared its ugly head, I practiced self-compassion by reminding myself that I’m a flawed human being just like everyone else. Self-compassion also made me realize that I'm worthy of self-love and respect just by existing. Viewing weight training and cooking as self-care and acts my future self would appreciate made it easier to do them consistently. The Most Valuable Practice award would have to go to meditation & mindfulness, though. I know it is not for everyone, but nothing has improved my life more than that habit. Greater awareness of my emotions and thoughts and not becoming attached to them allowed me to respond to life with a clear and calm mind. Specifically, regarding weight loss, the combination of meditation and weight training made me more present, grounded, and aware of my body. Gripping a barbell brings our focus to the here and now, similar to our breath during meditation. Doctor visits for injuries would've occurred, too, if I did bench presses, squats, and deadlifts with my head stuck in the past or stressed about the future. As someone who used to struggle with binge eating, mindfulness decreased the times I overindulged and ate past the point of fullness. Along the way, the negative narratives that used to play constantly in my mind stopped, revealing the real purpose of this journey. I wasn’t weak, lazy, undisciplined, and incapable of being the person I wanted to be. I was wrong and had never felt better. Also, if I sound too much like a stringy-haired, new-age hippy right now, please know that I got a haircut the other day and sometimes use conditioner. 

I don’t think what I did here was special or unique, and I'm still very much a work in progress. The worst contestant on MasterChef Junior would angrily shake their tiny spatula at me after tasting my cooking. For months now, my entire apartment has been covered in protein powder. I'm still too hard on myself at times. I suspect I will continue to grow, make mistakes, and hopefully learn from them for the rest of my life. I also believe that everyone is capable of accomplishing hard yet meaningful goals. If anyone ended up reading this entire self-indulgent essay, then thank you. The least I could do is root for you as you keep traveling down your journey. Alright, time to go start bulking up so I can play Awkwafina's jealous and insecure ex in Shang-Chi 2.  

photo by @photojuice

p.s. These are some of the resources I used that helped me the most with losing weight and getting in better shape. For nutrition and weight training, the websites Stronger By Science and Ripped Body both have a lot of great free content. For nutrition tracking and calorie counting, I use MacroFactor. In the beginning, I used Myfitnesspal, and I regret not using MacroFactor sooner because of how much better its layout and features are. It's not free, but if you can afford it, I definitely recommend it. “Atomic Habits” by James Clear is a must-read for anyone interested in forming new habits and sticking to them. Other recent books that influenced this post were “The Road Less Traveled” by M Scott Peck & “Self-Compassion: The Proven Power of Being Kind to Yourself” by Kristin Neff. 

[cashewally-sarcastic]

It is hku’s 6th month anniversary, and it’s been a growing theme (tradition?) that I tend to write essays for said occasion, most of them being jokes. But instead, today I present a different kind of essay, one that isn’t written as a joke for once. This is an essay focusing on the grey morality of hku, and focuses on Siv as the example of said grey morality. Because of this, I do have to warn that there are major story spoilers ahead, so if you haven’t read hku or aren’t caught up to current events, I would recommend not reading this! This essay isn’t going anywhere, and spoiling yourself isn’t a very fun experience!

With that disclaimer out of the way, the essay (as per usual) is under the cut! Enjoy!

~~~

The Grey Morality of HKU

We live in a world that is not purely black and white, but instead many different shades of grey. Writing greyness into stories is difficult, especially when trying to create morally ambiguous characters, which is why most character conflicts in fiction is black and white. Moral greyness in characters is a very thin tightrope to balance on, since such characters fall in between heroes and villains, and bring layers of depth and complexity into the world. Most humans are not purely good or evil, and morally grey characters showcase this well. These characters can be incredibly complicated, and thus, it's difficult for authors to commit and stay on their tightrope. Sometimes they lean too far to one side and their intended moral greyness gets destroyed. But in Hyrule Kingdom Updates, or HKU, Quill not only walks this tightrope with ease, but does backflips on it and performs a whole circus act with their characters mimicking the same routine. One of these talented tightrope-walkers that performs in such a circus act is Asivus Hartell, better known as Siv. 

Siv is one of the main examples of the grey morality of HKU. He’s the sarcastic, pessimistic orator that serves as the role of the narrator for the story.  Introduced as a psychological egoist, or someone who believes that everyone’s actions are derived out of personal interest, his personality, attitude, and actions all reek of the scent of “villain”. He’s cynical, hates almost everyone in the castle, and is also a criminal. Over time, his egoist beliefs are slowly challenged, and when his ties to the people who challenge his egoist morals are cut, his egoism goes even further downhill, leading him to become a utilitarian existentialist.

Utilitarian existentialism is hard to properly define, as there is no clear-cut definition. It is the combination of two different philosophies, utilitarianism and existentialism. Utilitarianism is the belief that actions are right if they are useful or for the benefit of a majority; if it provides the greatest amount of good for the greatest number of people, it’s the right thing to do. Existentialism is the belief that there are no set morals for life and no specific meaning to life— people are free to create their own meaning and define their own existence. Utilitarian existentialism is the combination of these two beliefs, and Siv falling into this moral belief can lead to its own opportunities, both for the plot and for himself.

Siv, by the dictionary definition, is a villain. One of the core beliefs he holds, mostly thanks to his egoism, is that everyone is a terrible, selfish person except for him and Ganon. This is not only harmful to the rest of the population because of the possibility of the Calamity being revived, but it’s harmful to Siv as well. Thinking everyone is bad except for the entity that’s weaponizing your malice, or manipulating your trauma, is not the most healthy thing. In addition, as the readers, we can see things from multiple perspectives, and therefore know that not everyone is a terrible or selfish person. By seeing these multiple perspectives and knowing these things, we root against Siv and his goal of resurrecting the Calamity, for his view of the world and the people in it is flawed. Siv succeeding in his objective wouldn’t be good for anyone, including himself. If this was Siv’s only belief, it would be more of a clear-cut black and white story, and Siv would just be a villain. However, that is not the case.

The other core belief Siv believes is one that Astor leads him to: Getting rid of all the terrible, selfish people in the world is the morally correct thing to do, as the kingdom would be a better place and he’d finally be happy. “Defeating the evil in the kingdom will make everything end up good” is a mindset that many stereotypical heroes share. This is the belief in the stories of many people’s childhoods, and people root for them because it’s usually correct in the context of said story. There’s nothing fundamentally wrong with Siv’s belief; he does have a point and does deserve to be happy. Furthermore, most of the problem causers in Hyrule would be gone, preventing all the hurt and trauma all the characters have to cope with from happening again. For example, getting rid of Ligero is something the entire reader-base has been cheering for since the old man was first introduced. It would be satisfying to see people such as those face consequences for their actions, and as readers, we like satisfying endings. Unfortunately, the problem is that Siv believes everyone is bad except him and Ganon, so he’d be getting rid of everyone, and effectively resurrecting the Calamity, something that devastated the kingdom and brought a massive amount of death, in the process. Taking that into account, you wouldn’t want Siv to succeed. And as a bonus, killing anyone and everyone he could possibly care about in any capacity would not be good for his already crumbling mental state. All of this creates a mental tug-of-war  in the reader’s head, because they're rooting for Siv to succeed but also hoping that Siv will fail. Is he in the right? No, because not everyone is a bad person and killing everyone by raising the Calamity isn't ever the right thing to do. But is he in the wrong? Also no, because utilitarianism isn't inherently bad, neither is existentialism, and the moral principle itself can have good intentions. Quill writes Siv to be a very complex character with no absolute right or wrong mentality. There’s no surface answer to if Siv is correct in his thinking or not, as this moral greyness goes a lot deeper than the surface level you see within the dialogue.

Siv walks upon the same morally grey tightrope that we, the readers, fight ourselves over within our own mental game of tug-of-war. His moral ambiguity is a huge part of his characterization, as well as a major highlight on the plot of HKU as a whole. The picture Quill painted is not only in multiple shades of grey, but also full of color and life. And out of all the shades of grey Quill used in their masterpiece, one of the most interesting shades is Siv. Quill did an excellent job at exploring this moral greyness and it shows well; you can truly see the care that they put into Siv as a character through how he affects the world around him. The kingdom of Hyrule is not made of black and white, but instead, is painted in multiple shades of grey that reflect our own world within itself, since nothing is as simple as it seems. 

~~~

Want to read more about Siv’s morals? Quill wrote an in-depth explanation themselves, and does a much better job of explaining it than I do, so I recommend reading it if that peaks your interest! Click HERE to be sent to that post! (also major spoilers, so be warned)

~~~

Now, since you got to the bottom of this post, and because I might be a little too polite, I need to give some thank-yous to a handful of people.

The first thank-you is to Rev (@swordlesbianss) for giving me the push I needed to actually write this thing! You pretty much kept me accountable for getting this done by mentioning your essay (which I look forward to reading when it’s ready, take your time), so thank you, Rev! You definitely got me to actually start writing the original version of this essay, and caused me to write it to where it is now!

The second thank-you is to Aura (@auroraborealis1890) who beta read the first draft of this essay! You made sure it wasn’t completely incomprehensible, thank you so much Aura! By being able to read it at all, you were a huge help to what was essentially a crazy person’s ramblings. You’re a great friend and I’m very grateful you read my first draft of bullshit <3

The third thank-you is a huge one to Bunny (@bunnywabbit229) who polished up this essay! All of the tone, spell checks, and really beautiful analogies were proofread by Bunny, some invented by them! They took a good 5+ hours out of their day and made this little rock of an essay become the shining diamond it is! I could point out so many things that they made better, but I don’t want to gush for too long. Bunny, I know I already told you this but if I could buy you a large brownie pizza, I would because you helped so much and I appreciate it so much!

The final thank-you is to Quill, the author of @hyrule-kingdom-updates, who made the inspiration for this essay. You have made such a wonderful story that’s rich with so many amazing characters and astounding worldbuilding. You made a masterpiece that inspired an essay of over 1000 words and I’m in awe. You truly deserve to know how wonderful your writing is and all the effort you’ve put into your characters and story is not going unnoticed. So thank you so much for putting your story out into the world, Quill.

[variousqueerthings]

Daniel LaRusso: A Queer Feminine Fairytale Analysis Part Two of Three

Part 1

Part 3

6. Sexual Awakenings part 1: Love, Obsession, & Size Differences

[Insert that post talking about the creators making sure that Daniel’s antagonists were much bigger than him so that the audience would sympathise, spawning 10000 size kink fics]

I’m sure this won’t awaken anything in Daniel

Corporate wants you to find the difference between these two pictures

The hallmark of feminine fairytales tends to be growing into womanhood, with all those symbolic sexual under/overtones, searching for a prince, encountering monsters (or evil stepmothers), on the surface tending to be quite passive/reactive, but actually being about young girls and women getting out of their environment and choosing to tussle with those deep, dark desires – monsters. They’ve got to function within the limitations of power that they have – escaping an abusive situation through marriage, chasing forbidden desires under the guise of duress, asking questions about sexuality through things like symbolic plucking (flowers) or consumption (fruit) or pricking (needles), etc.

Daniel isn’t striking out to find his fortune or win a girl or a kingdom Like A Man, he’s not a threat to Silver, who – like Jareth in Labyrinth – is in control for almost the whole of the narrative, he’s not actually able to do much more than react until he makes the decision to stop training, and even then he’s immediately ganged up on and assaulted, needing to be saved by Miyagi while he stands and watches, bloodied and bruised. 

Daniel’s journey in the third movie is to be forced into an impossible situation, seduced by Silver, and then prove that whatever violence Silver did to him isn’t enough to destroy him. It is incredibly similar to Sarah’s in Labyrinth, who by the end declares: “you have no power over me,” and that’s her winning moment. Not strength, not wits, not a direct fight, (although Daniel does fight Barnes and gets beat up again – only winning in in the end by taking him by surprise, unlike in TKK1 or TKK2 where you could argue that he proves himself to be a capable physical opponent to Johnny and Chozen), but by declaring that whatever power was held over her is now void.

Daniel’s narrative isn’t satisfying in the same way, because the dynamic of Silver and Daniel only accidentally emulates this - it’s not an intention on the side of the film-makers.

When Miyagi tells Daniel that he has strong roots, when he tells him not to lose to fear and Daniel wins over Barnes (in an almost fairytale-esque set of events), on paper he’s defeated whatever hold Terry Silver has over him. In the film itself though, Daniel never defeats Silver (which will likely be confirmed once he returns in Season Four). Daniel cannot simply say “you have no power over me,” and see Silver shattered into glass shards. 

The film is a contradiction: It wants to be a masculine sports film, but it exists in the same realm as Goblin Kings seducing young girls with the promise of: “Just fear me, love me, do as I say, and I will be your slave.” Unlike Sarah, Daniel doesn’t claim the power that’s been promised to him on his own terms. His subtextually sexual awakening is so corrupted that all he can do is pretend it never happened.

Still, Daniel proves in the film that his strength is not in his fists. It’s in his praying to the bonsai tree that’s healed despite a violent boy brutally tearing it in two.

These looks on Daniel and Silver though?

So why does Silver become obsessed with him? What’s up with all those red outfits (that he doesn’t wear in Cobra Kai)? What does the temptation reveal about Daniel? How does it recontextualise TKK1 and TKK2? Is Daniel bisexual? (yes).

Ah, beach-Daniel, in your red hoodie and your cut-off jorts. Iconic hot-girl summer vibes. 

If you didn’t want me over-analysing this, you shouldn’t have put him in so many red outfits and then have this man leering at him like he wants to eat him alive.

Surface-level it’s not hard to read into a Dude Story: Masculine power fantasies are about strength in a very direct way. Fighting, control, suaveness – and if you’re not the most traditionally masculine of guys, asserting dominance through being a good lover or intelligent or overcoming that unmanliness in some way through beating the bully or convincing the hot girl to go out with you, levelling up in coolness. Being A Man. It’s not too dissimilar from Daniel’s arc in the first movie, if you watch it without taking later events into account, although Daniel is never interested in proving himself as a man, and more in making Miyagi proud. Still, he does win and gain respect, and arguably “get the girl,” although Ali’s interest in him was never dependent on the fight.

7. Sexual Awakenings Part 2: Sexual Assault, Liberation, and Queerness

Feminine power fantasies are often about sex. Metaphorically. More accurately it’s “owning sexuality.” Even more accurately: “Freedom.” They also inhabit a fluid space in which empowerment through monstrous desires and non-consent can happen at the same time. And on top of that, many of these “fantasies” are actually being written by men, so whose fantasy is it really? A lot of them are based in oral traditions so presumably they were originally from the mouths of women, even if modern iterations (starting with Grimm’s collections) are filtered through cis men’s perspectives.

All of that being acknowledged: In Angela Carter’s “The Company Of Wolves,” Red Riding Hood unambiguously sleeps with the wolf. Belle discovers her freedom from expectations and unsuitable suitors (and in some versions, evil stepsisters) by falling in love with a Beast (the original novel was written by a woman, the 18th century Gabrielle-Suzanne Barbot de Villeneuve). Jareth informs Sarah of his obsessive devotion to her in Labyrinth. To lean into horror for a moment – Buffy is stalked and eventually has relationships with both Angel and Spike, Lucy in Coppola’s Dracula (which I have mixed feelings about) is raped by the werewolf and Mina is stalked by Dracula, The Creature Of The Black Lagoon kidnaps Kay (the lead’s girlfriend) – subverted in both The Shape Of Water in which Eliza forms a consensual relationship with the amphibious sea-god and in the short-lived horror series Swamp Thing, in which the connection is purposefully framed as seductive…

and in The Karate Kid Part Three Daniel LaRusso punches a board until his hands bleed because an attractive, older man tells him to and in this moment he gives in to what he (thinks he) wants.

Not all of those examples are equal. Some are consensual, some are hinted as abusive and/or stalkery, all of them have large age gaps, and a few are outright non-consensual.

But they’re all fantasies.

They’re all power-fantasies.

Except for Daniel, because he’s a man and the idea that being obsessed (lusted) over by an older man who keeps you in his thrall, specifically because you tickle his fancy for whatever reason, because you’re beautiful, breakable, different – could in any way be considered empowering is a difficult concept to wrap your head around. It doesn’t contain that “but I’m a good girl, I’d never go off the path and pluck flowers if a bad wolf told me to, honest,” societal context or the social context of rape culture. It’s closest comparison is closeted (perhaps even unknown until that point) queer identity.

There have recently been some comparisons of Daniel LaRusso to Bruce Bechdel in Funhome (and everyone who says that Ralph Macchio ought to play him in the upcoming movie: you’re right and I’m just not going to enjoy it as much without him). I’ve written a post about Sam being the heir to his legacy and trauma, specifically as a queercoded man. It’s not dissimilar to the plot of Funhome in a lot of ways.

The other interesting source that’s been going around in connection with Daniel is the essay “The Rape of James Bond,” which discusses the use of sexual assault as a plot device for women and not for men: “About one in every 33 men [in the US] is raped. … [your statistically average, real life man] … doesn’t have a horde of enemies explicitly dedicated to destroying him. He doesn’t routinely get abducted, and tied up. Facing a megalomaniac psychopath gloating over causing him pain […] is not the average man’s average day at the office.” That last bit is just a descriptor of Terry Silver, (although I take issue at the blasé use of psychopath).

The two part youtube essay  Sexual Assault of Men Played for Laughs posits that there is nothing more de-masculinising than the threat of sexual assault and therefore any narrative that features this “rightfully” must mock any man who has been a victim or who fears being a victim of sexual assault. It is feminising. There is nothing more humiliating – and therefore unheroic – than a man dealing with sexual assault.

So what do we feel when we see an attractive young man being put into a vulnerable position by an older man? A trope associated with female characters, a trope that is considered unpalatable for men (see reactions that happened when the hint of sexual assault was introduced in Skyfall).

Was it the fact that he was being threatened, or the fact that James’ next line is: “what makes you think this is my first time?”

Some thoughts added by @mimsyaf​ are around the idea of safety in how a lot of cis women might relate to this narrative through Daniel’s eyes. He’s not a woman, he has – societally – more power than a girl or woman would have, which makes this a different watch to, say, if Danielle were to go through the same narrative. Daniel doesn’t carry that baggage of rape culture, or of the male gaze that you might find in a similar scenario of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Christine in Phantom of the Opera (and once more the age differences between these characters and the men who love/lust over them are substantial), which makes the narrative “safer” to engage with.

I agree with that, although as a transmasc person I also come at it differently. I specifically like to headcanon Daniel as a trans guy and find his fraught interactions with masculinity through his own non-toxic lens relatable, as well as the way other boys and men react to it – also I think Terry Silver is hot. I know there are people who write Terry Silver with female OCs, which is also a form of empowerment.

On the flipside putting Daniel in this space runs a risk of fetishising him as a queer youth who is either Innocent and Pure, or a bisexual stereotype that deserves to be assaulted for not being a real man. After all, Real Straight Men don’t run the risk of sexual assault.

 Alas, the road to empowerment never did run smooth. 

The comparisons between the way Daniel is treated by the text and how female characters are often treated in texts are undoubtedly there. Through Ralph Macchio and TIG’s casting and the direction and acting, but also within the text itself. 

It might not be with the same purpose as Neo’s symbolically trans journey, but it puts the whole narrative that Daniel’s going through from TKK1 under a different light than if there had only been one movie that ended on a triumphant sports win and a girlfriend.

Johnny’s masculinity and the use of tears as liberation, now that’s a whole other analysis….

[shinygoku]

gordon gordon gordon gordon

Gordon Gordon Gordon Gordon!!

He's been sneaking into these asks by proxy, so it's finally time for his dedicated session, hehe~

First impression

WUAAAGH what's up with this WEIRD LONG NOT-THOMAS and his FACE?!

Impression now

His face is still pretty weird! But you know what else it is? Part of an Absolute Legend ✨

Like, man, Gordon is such a big presence and interesting character, the entire premise leans heavily on him. I'm inclined to go as far as to say that the Blue Boys of 1, 2 and 4 here are the three most important characters for the franchise (not at all to knock everyone else lmao) and they slot nicely into a Triforce of Courage, Wisdom and Power, and Gordon has Power in spades!

Gordon is The Vain One (not James!). He's legit very strong and the fastest on Sodor (which isn't just being a big fish in a small pond because that island has some crazy cool engines!) but unfortunately he lacks humility. His success seems to have been lodged in his head before the series even begins and this Pride is the source of pretty much every single conflict he's involved in.

But when it isn't his self satisfaction in his actions, it's being smug about being such a grand, magnificent Tender Engine and he is snooty as hell about it. He seems to look at smaller engines [pretty much everyone compared to him lol] as a lesser class, particularly if they're small and cheeky and Tank Engines. This may not be the case exactly, but his way of talking to them and some other things he says are very condescending.

However... as much as a gigantic jerk he is at several points, with Gordon I kinda feel like he plain ass doesn't conceive of his words being out of line. That and having to Unlearn things... he's not innately better than everyone else. He sees things in black and white. There are Useful Engines, and those who should be scrapped. There are Noble Tender Engines and Lesser Tank Engines who exist to do the tedious chores on behalf of the Superior ones. Edward doing shunting is seen as Demeaning and contradicts Gordon’s world view that Tender Engines Don't Stunt™, and he doesn't like that one bit! (Also Edward was crossing the picket line but that wasn't Awdry's concern lmao)

Related is Gordon does seem oddly dense at times, like assuming that Tenders are in of themselves a Status Symbol rather than a large lunchbox of sorts lol, or that Tender Engines like him being too heavy for Branch Lines being because something about Branch Lines are degrading. This might be all Elitist Brainwashing influence. But still, that he just takes these as The Truth means I get to affectionately call him an idiot. And there is no other way to explain how he genuinely believes Bill and Ben were going to murder him if he wasn't missing a few brain bolts in there.

Fortunately, he does eventually start to learn the important lessons.... very gradually, but the Early Gordon is a pretty different beast to Later Gordon, and it's wonderful~

Also, I gotta give credit to him for having some moments of utter brilliance and actual grasp of reality and more complex matters, like culture. (Yeah, I'm rolling with his geniune Opera Knowledge from s6 of all things. It's good!) As much as Awdry himself may have disagreed, Gordon was in the right to want a Station Pilot and the Strike was called for (not bullying Edward for it, but myeah) ...but this leads to my next point: He seems to have a mental block when it comes to Emotions.

Certainly, he's as emotional as the others are, it's not just a scale of Snooty, Arrogant, Condescending, Prideful ....well, it is, but ALSO the more mixed and varied feelings: Shame, Sadness, Fear, Ambivilance, Irritation, Anger, Passion, Amused, Delight and so on. However, Gordon is seemingly unaware of how his words may make the others feel, and even at his cruellest it doesn't look like he's aware he's twisting a knife in. To Gordon, he's being honest, but his verbose manner ends up twisting and wriggling away from any valid point like an overgrown vine that somehow links back to how [Other Engine] is disgracing him, Gordon, by association.

Examples include: Being offended by Henry's new shape (??? Gordon dude he nearly died and this is an improvement, a good thing!), saying that Edward's age and difficulty starting a heavy ass packed load of passengers is grounds to be Retired or even Scrapped, other little insulting things like calling the likes of Thomas and James Little insistently (it seems to vary if he's trying to put them down or actually be affectionate), and many more when in the hands of inept writers who have to wheel out the same Gordon Learns A Lesson Plot every other season.

Like I said in the James post, I also think he kinda poisoned the Red guy with his snooty attitude... but I maintain that I think Gordon was unaware of this. He may know he has Influence, and enjoy that, but he really truly doesn't appear to mean to mould James into a smaller, redder version of himself. He's oblivious and from his own point of view, benevolent. Which is in fact a dangerous combo indeed!

It's... a lot o7;;

Again though, if you're looking at the books and s1-s5 of TVS you can see him grow and change. He does take a while to learn the lessons, but as time goes on he moves 2 steps forward and 1 step back, then eventually less steps back entirely. It's great! And so is Gordon. A big dumb meathead with not entirely uncalled for delusions of granduer. A dramatic so-and-so who is the best engine for his job.

I love this sophisticated jock who grows more kindness~ 💙

Favourite moment

Hm! This isn't as easy to decide lol. We all like Gordon Goes Foreign... but you know what sticks in my mind more?

hOOOOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHH

Look, I’m not 100% objective, here! But Ringo’s read of this line is fantastic (and keeps making me expect him to finish saying OOOHH SHIT) and it’s also a well deserved bolt of divine retribution for how rude he was being earlier. (As long as my essay already was, he very much needed the knocking down of some pegs here!)

Idea for a story

While both my fics with him thus far have been variations of Pre-Canon, Full-Arrogance and Snobbish Gordon (and both were a lot of fun!) ...but I cannot bear the same expired horse being beaten more when the story is set waaay later but he’s still up his own ass. Please, PLEASE writers, let him hold what growth he’s managed to gain!

I think it’d be good to accept that he’s gonna be outdated sooner or later, so have him help train another High Speed Engine and take them under his wing. The Christopher Awdry books kinda have something similar with Pip and Emma, but I think a better way of having Gordon be involved would be if he was actively doing some mentoring himself, as well as being a neat parallel with Edward, whose type was once Express only but got outclassed by A1s, and so the same can happen to this big A1 -> A3 lad and he can form a healthy relationship with some bright eyed newbie (and maybe have some self awareness and try to stop their head getting too large, lol).

Unpopular opinion

I know I just said him mentoring would be a cool story idea, but in canon? He is NOT a resident Dad type!! He’s a hotshot young man but he’s also a hot mess. He’s physically large but he’s not got the Energy of someone who dispenses sage advice and a shoulder to cry on. At best, he’s a weird uncle! One who means well but you shouldn’t take his life advice to heart because he’s actually just as, if not more clueless than you!

Favourite relationship

I feel inclined to say Thomas here. Emphatically not because Gordon is ‘old’ and Thomas is ‘young’, but because they’re so damn alike and actually make an excellent, albeit unconventional type of Rivalry.

Both are self important with genuine finesse in their respective talents, both are honest to a fault, both have redeeming qualities to offset their initial abrasiveness, and the first TVS episode is centred on the both of them and sets the tone for the series as a whole. There’s more parallels, of course, but I also wanna point out they’re effectively the mascots of North Western Rail in universe too, and I absolutely love this picture:

I also have immense fondness for the Down the Mine paradigm shift! Thomas gives Gordon grief over the ditch incident and later when it emerges the Fat Controller is gonna send for Gordon to pull him out, Thomas is filled with dread. But Gordon isn’t using the chance to lord over Thomas, he’s actually so amused by Thomas’ mishap and it coming at a time where he’s been significantly humbled, they instead become Comrades and I love it. I eat it up! Paint Pots and Queens isn’t anywhere near as good but I adore the little bit where they’re appealing for the other, equals and watching each other’s back~

But yeah, as Friendly Rivals they both feel very authentic and yet, in a daft way, sweet ;3

Favourite headcanon

He still says “Hurry, hurry, hurry!” when pulling the Express. That’s a HC as I think the show phased it out, but I like it lol. I feel like my essay on him contains most of the headcanon stuff, but it’s all based on what’s shown, baybee!

[4ragon]

oh can we please hear the magatama essay??

Oh boy oh boy, let’s go

Ahem

How to Lie to the Magatama

An essay by JJsADragon

Unlocking Psyche-Locks with the Magatama is a really fun mechanic throughout the Ace Attorney series. It’s introduced in Justice for All when Pearl charges the Magatama Maya gifts to Phoenix with spiritual energy. She describes it thusly: “This is the power of the Magatama. Only you can see these "Psyche-Locks", Mr. Nick… The more someone wants to hide their secret, the more locks you will see. If it's only one, I think you can easily unlock it.” 

Basically: If someone has a secret they don’t want to share, you have to present in-game evidence and break the locks. Things get a little more complicated with the introduction of Black Psyche-Locks, but the general gist of it stays the same. Someone has a secret they don’t want to tell you, and you can unlock that secret with evidence.

This, I believe, is fundamentally wrong.

Why do I think that? Well, I always really like picking apart these mechanics, both as in-game mechanics and how they would work in the real world. In particular, I think the most interesting way to see how something works is to figure out its shortcomings. What does and doesn’t set off Apollo’s bracelet? Why doesn’t Athena notice The Phantom’s whole deal? And, more to the point, when does the Magatama straight up get things wrong?

There are several moments I want to focus on. We have seen the Magatama fail several times throughout the series. Or, to clarify, we have seen at least one time when locks should have appeared where they did not, and several times where the chains did appear and the answers uncovered were either incomplete or just straight-up incorrect.

So, let’s find out how and why the Magatama fails us. First up: 

The False Negative: Farewell, My Turnabout

Fortunately, I think this one is the easiest one to understand. The Magatama has one very clear false negative in Justice for All: Farewell, My Turnabout. Phoenix asks Matt Engarde if he murdered Juan Corrida, and he replies, “Just so we're clear, dude, I didn't kill anyone, and that includes Juan Corrida, OK?” And he’s correct. He didn’t kill anyone. He did not actively commit any murders. And on that technicality, the Magatama does not go off. He did not kill anyone, and he knows it. He believes it. He feels no residual guilt over it. His hands are clean. Hell, he seems kind of gleeful about the fact that he was ‘technically right’ when the truth comes out later.

So, why didn’t a Psyche-Lock appear? As I said, it was a technicality. He wasn’t trying to hide it from Phoenix, he just truly felt no responsibility for what happened. He felt no guilt about it. The Psyche-Locks don’t appear until Matt’s secrets come up. 

This, of course, lines up neatly with our understanding of the Magatama. This instance very clearly falls within what we know about Psyche-Locks. If you’re not trying to hide it, if you truly believe what you’re saying, it’s not a secret the Magatama will alert you to. So, what about these other instances? Do these line up as neatly in the rules of the Psyche-Locks?

The Half Truth: The Cosmic Turnabout

This one is a little strange so I’m just going to touch on this.

In day one of your investigations for The Cosmic Turnabout, you run into a conflicted Bobby Fulbright. When pressed, two Psyche-Locks appear, and unlocking them leads you to three conversations: 1) The bomb threat before the launch, 2) Why Simon Blackquill was given permission to prosecute, and 3) The mysterious Phantom.

So why do I call this a false positive? After all, he is technically hiding all these things. And yet, a lot of how this Psyche-Unlocking goes down doesn’t really make as much sense when you consider that Bobby Fulbright is The Phantom. It really doesn’t make much sense how much information he’s feeding them about the situation, unlocked Psyche-Locks or not. Especially the way he goes about the whole thing. 

We know in hindsight that The Phantom doesn’t actually care about Simon Blackquill or solving the crime that he committed. Every display of emotion is an act. So why does he make a big show of feeling conflicted? Why does the bomb threat that he made lead him to divulging all of these worries about Simon going after the Phantom? Was him revealing this information part of his game? Since we know he was trying to cover his tracks, was he feeding us half truths for a reason? Did he want to feed us this information?

If that’s the case, that leads us to a new problem. Since the question asked was “Why Are You Being Cooperative”, why wouldn’t the fact that he was the Phantom ping the Magatama? He was being cooperative so that he could feed you information, not because he cared about any of the things he was ‘troubled’ by. So why does the Magatama only pick up on half the truth? After all, the Phantom wasn’t knowingly tricking the Magatama.

(Also if you haven’t read this comic I thought it was a super interesting theory. Not sure I ascribe to it 100% but it was a really interesting take.)

I think it’s important to note in this example that, no matter how you interpret The Phantom’s actions, all signs point to him wanting to divulge this information for one reason or another. There was an intent about it. He may not have known a thing about the Psyche-Locks, but he very clearly was baiting the protagonists with an intent. And technically, without knowing it, he was also baiting the Magatama. 

This means that, in the end, the information he actually revealed to the protagonists was not a closely guarded secret of the heart. Yes, you still needed to present evidence and draw it out of him, but I think The Phantom wanted the characters to draw it out of him. It’s not a secret that a bumbling detective was having trouble hiding, it was information that a spy wanted planted. There was intent here, no matter how you look at it. And that leads us to our third example.

The False Positive: The Stolen Turnabout

Unlike the previous two cases, this is the first time that someone has straight up lied to the Magatama. Trials and Tribulations: The Stolen Turnabout. I always get so mixed up by this case. It took me three playthroughs to finally get the hang of who was doing what where and when. And do you know why that was? It was because of one lie that Luke Atmey told us early in the investigation.

Phoenix: Detective Atmey... You were knocked unconscious by the thief, weren't you!?

Atmey: Ha ha ha! Surely you must be joking... You think that I, Luke Atmey, could be knocked unconscious so easily!?

Phoenix: This sword proves it!

Atmey: ...! Th-That's...

Phoenix: Before the theft, this sword was in the hand of the statue of Ami Fey. Furthermore... at that time, it was not bent.

Atmey: Aaah... Err...

Phoenix: ...There's only one explanation. You were struck on the head and knocked unconscious by this sword! Well, Detective!? What about it!?

Atmey: ...I'm impressed. You truly are an "Ace Attorney"...

Unlock Successful

Unlike every other instance, this is just a straight-up lie. This is not a technicality, like with Matt Engarde. This is not pieces of the truth, like The Phantom. This is just factually incorrect. Luke Atmey was not knocked unconscious by Mask☆Demasque. In fact, this not only is a lie, it’s a calculated lie. Without knowing about the Magatama or its capabilities, Luke Atmey used it to convince us that he was knocked unconscious by Mask☆Demasque at the scene of the crime to disguise the fact that he was Mask☆Demasque, which is even wilder when you realize later that even that was a lie! He was covering up a lie with another lie with another lie. It was not just a ploy to fool you into thinking he was attacked my Mask☆Demasque, it was also a part of him convincing you that he was Mask☆Demasque when he wasn’t.

So why the FUCK does the Magatama go off?!

There’s of course a meta answer. The writers weren’t thinking that hard about it. They just wanted to use the Psyche-Locks to make the story more interesting. But that’s boring. I want to go deeper.

Luke Atmey, like The Phantom later on, wanted information planted. But he couldn’t simply tell everyone he was attacked by Mask☆Demasque. After all, he knew admitting to it would put his credentials under scrutiny. So he needed someone to organically draw it out of him. Again, he wanted this information out there. Otherwise, him agreeing to Phoenix’s conclusions, hell, him setting up this scenario with the Shichishito wouldn’t make any sense. Plus, it was only behind one Psyche-Lock and led to him revealing a photo of the crime, one that he was very meticulous about taking to create an alibi.

So. What does this all mean? How are people confusing the Magatama? How are people lying? I think that the element that Pearl got wrong in her initial explanation is that the Magatama reacts to secrets that, deep down, a person wants to divulge. After all, with enough evidence, you can eventually draw all sorts of information out of a person. Some are certainly more closely guarded secrets than others, but in the end, I think the Magatama reacts to secrets that a character wants to share but is not willing to do so without that prompting. It doesn’t have to be real, it just has to be something the person is keeping secret with the intent of finding a way to plant the information.

This can even apply to Black Psyche-Locks. Unconscious secrets that are hidden even from the person hiding them? Those are deep hurts that I think drive a lot about these characters’ personalities and motivations, and I think things like that are the kinds of stuff that a character wants to confront but is unable to do so out of fear, so they push it from their minds.

Let’s look at a few more examples. In Bridge to the Turnabout, Miles demands info from Larry, and he’s able to completely circumvent the Psyche-Locks by divulging something completely irrelevant about his crush on Iris. When Miles realizes his mistake, he discovers a completely new set of Psyche-Locks. Or when Phoenix confronts “Iris” about the presence of another Iris at the crime, “Iris” (cough Dahlia cough) uses that to start planting these ideas about Iris as the original betrayer, as the one who had wronged Dahlia in the first place. I feel these are both things that the characters did want to share, despite not wanting to do it unprompted.

Anyway, uh, that’s most of what I got. Perhaps there’s a stronger answer out there for why the Magatama may react in places it shouldn’t. Maybe there’s some other hidden rule they haven’t mentioned. Or maybe it is just as simple as “The writers didn’t think that hard about it.” But hey, I think I like this interpretation better.

[got-svt]

all the boys you’ve loved and lost during the course of our lives, we meet thousands of people, creating either a seconds long moment or memories that last a lifetime. some of them you’ll have the opportunity to know beyond their names and faces, some you may even grow to love. unfortunately, not all of them have the luxury of staying in your life forever.

❥• two: the academic rival 

he’s the one that had you wondering how could you be so similar to someone, yet so different? he knew how to push your buttons and make a competition of everything, whether it was sports, academics or extracurriculars. he was the one that made steam come out of your ears and blood rush to your cheeks. but even you had to admit there was a certain rush that came with it, too bad he transferred schools just before senior year.

pairing: yoon jeonghan x reader genre: fluff, angst, enemies to reluctant friends to ??? word count: 2292

→   you genuinely thought the universe had it out for you when you were placed in the same year level as yoon jeonghan, more so when it placed you in the same class. you first caught sight of jeonghan in your first year of middle school. he was the boy seated three seats behind you. he seemed unassuming at first, somewhat quiet, and — dare you say it — nice and sweet, angelic almost. he only conversed with the other boys that sat near him, not sparing a glance to most. however, it wasn’t until a few years later, when you both started high school that you learned his true personality.

→   it was no secret that you studied hard, spending hours in the library, sacrificing nights of sleep. the results of your hard work showed very clearly in classes, on the nearly perfect marks on each of your exams and essays, how the teacher praised your answers during recitation. you relished in the gold stars, the awards, the quiet envy of your classmates.

→   you had never seen jeonghan open a single book, let alone actually read it. there was not a single time you saw him set foot inside a library. multiple times you’ve caught him answering homework minutes before the teacher walks in the room. which is why your blood boiled when you saw he was getting scores just as good as yours, finishing exams before anyone else in the classroom, his hand shooting up just as soon as yours when teachers call for someone to answer their question. eventually, you both gave up raising your hands altogether, competing to be the one to get an answer out first.

→   you wished he remained that quiet kid in middle school, who only stared at you with wide eyes when the teacher announced you had been the only one in your class to get a perfect score, who acknowledged your existence with a small nod instead of a smirk. 

→  unbeknownst to you, your little rivalry was slightly one sided. you see, jeonghan didn’t care much about winning or losing. truly he didn’t mind much if you had gotten the higher score, or be the one to answer the teacher’s question first. but god, did he enjoy seeing the way your eyebrow furrowed when he did, how you bottom lip forms into a little pout, how you gripped your pen so hard he was afraid it would snap. he still remembered the first time it happened, the birth of your so called rivalry, when he corrected your answer to the class first day of freshman year. since then, you had always been determined to one-up him every chance you got. much to your dismay, he was not one to back down.

→   and unfortunately for you, academics was not the only place you and jeonghan seemed to compete in. while you were in the swimming team, he played on the soccer team. you even had a small notepad to keep tallies of whose team was winning more games. 

“nervous, yn?” jeonghan asked, coming up to you as you were about to prepare for a race. if anyone else had heard him ask, they’d think he was concerned. but you knew this was only the beginning of him getting you riled up. jeonghan had never missed a single one of your swim meets, each time he comes over to you before the competition would even begin. 

“not a chance.” you rolled your eyes, waving a hand to shoo him away to the stands. but he showed no signs of leaving, his feet firmly on the tiled floor of the rec center.

jeonghan raised an eyebrow at your show of unwavering confidence, but he knew in the way your voice slightly trembled that you were not as assured as you presented yourself to be. fortunately, he knew exactly what to do to rid you of your nerves. “we won our game today, so it must be exhausting for you, huh?”

“what is?”  

he grinned, knowing the exact words to say to get your blood pumping just before a competition, “living in my shadow all the time.”

“if anything, you’re the one who’s living in mine.” you scoffed, more fired up than ever, determined to prove him wrong. suddenly, you couldn’t wait to get into the water, “i’m leaving now.”

“good luck, yn!” jeonghan called out with a smile, only to be met with a wave of your hand — you didn’t turn back for he would only see the blush that slowly formed on your cheeks. still it was more than enough for him as he looked for a seat in the stands with a soft smile. occasionally, he would send you a wink when his gaze met yours — though you only rolled your eyes at him when he did. 

and despite the fact that you seemed to be annoyed at his presence during your competitions, jeonghan always cheered you on, his voice clear and resounding even as you swam underwater.

→   but rarely were the two of you ever actively pitted directly against one another. you were always in the same class, and on the same team during activities that teachers found it somewhat remarkable that both of you were still able to find a way to compete against each other. it was always who could be the one to lead their team to victory, who contributed more points, who their own teammates liked better. 

→   it wasn’t until your phys ed teacher decided to make her two star pupils team captains in a friendly game of dodgeball that you were actually engaged in a direct, head-to-head competition.

“you totally cheated!” you yelled out as soon as the whistle was blown, signalling the end of the game. eyes ablaze with irritation and frustration, you pointed a single finger at jeonghan, recalling how you saw the ball lightly graze jeonghan’s leg but he made no attempt in leaving the court.

“i did not.” he held his hands up in mock defense, but a smile was on his face as he took in your angrily shaking figure. jeonghan wanted to burst out laughing, not even the least bit threatened or afraid as you stomped your way over to him. “my team just happened to be better than yours.”

you wanted to wipe that smug grin off his face, it didn’t matter how, you just desperately wanted to. your steps got longer and quicker at his words, cheeks flaming up both from being out of breath from playing and anger. your teammates swore they saw steam come out of your ears. “how dare you!”

your phys ed teacher stopped you just as you were about a couple of feet away from only lightly shoving jeonghan — you weren’t actually going to hurt him. grabbing you by your shoulders, she asked you to calm down and join your teammates in cleaning up the equipment, the agreed upon punishment for the game’s losers. 

but jeonghan wasn’t done with you yet, staying behind as his teammates went straight to the showers, “hey, yn.”

“what do you want?” you asked with a frown, not in the mood to hear him flaunting his win so soon. 

“maybe i did cheat.” he said, just loud enough for you to hear.

your eyes went wide, feeling somewhat proud that your suspicions were correct. but as you were about to open your mouth to retort, he leaned down so his face was level with and merely inches away from yours. you never fully noticed how good he looked, even though he was drenched in sweat, his hair sticking down his forehead. with a confident smile and a quiet whisper, “but i don’t think anyone’s going to believe you.”

“bye, yn!” he moved away and leaves the gym before you could even reply. but you weren’t even mad, more confused than anything else, remembering how close his face was to yours and how quickly your heart started beating because of it. 

→  since the dodgeball incident that had you nearly injuring both yourself and jeonghan, most of your teachers decided that it would be best to keep you two on the same side as it would probably be the best way to keep you two from fighting. they also knew of the incredible potential you and jeonghan could hold if you actually worked together. you both were incredibly smart, talented, and resourceful. whatever you lacked, jeonghan made up for and vice versa. 

→  which is probably why your english teacher decided to pair you up for your final project during your junior year of high school. both of you thought it was unfair, since everyone else got to choose their partners. the rest of your class thought it was unfair too, why did you pair up two of the smartest kids in their year? but they were also kind of interested to see what the both of you could come up with.

→   this is how you found yourself in the library, working with yoon jeonghan of all people. you would’ve much rather be paired up with the girl that sat next to you — she was quiet, but sweet. you’d rather even be paired up with your childhood friend, chan. but he was not in the same class and you hadn’t been speaking much lately. so you’d have to make do with jeonghan.

“i’m tired, i’m taking a nap.” jeonghan yawned, stretching his arms out to further prove his point. 

“we’ve barely started.”

“and yet i’m already bored.” he sighed dramatically, making a show of hitting his head on the table with a quiet thud. 

“what do you want me to do about it?” you didn’t bother looking up from your book, knowing that seeing his disinterested face would only put you in a bad mood. 

his eyes light up at your question, thinking that you were actually asking him for a suggestion, “let’s go for a drive.”

“what? no—” was this boy serious? you had another class in thirty minutes, where would you even go?

jeonghan groaned, cutting off your words and your train of thought, “live a little, yn. not everything’s about being number one. you can miss one class.”

you told him that if he wanted you out of the library, he’d have to drag you out kicking and screaming. which is exactly what he did, much to the amusement of your fellow students and even the librarian. now, you find yourself sitting in the passenger seat of his car, aimlessly driving around town — you were sure you passed the same tree four times. still, you found the drive somewhat relaxing; especially since you two weren’t arguing. 

but it was much too quiet for jeonghan’s liking. you were just staring out the window, arms crossed. he feared that he’d done something wrong. “hey, yn.”

“what?”

jeonghan chewed on his bottom lip, gripping the steering wheel tighter than he intended, “you don’t hate me, do you?”

you laughed at his nervousness. truth be told, you needed a bit of a break, so you couldn’t be too mad at him for taking you out of that stuffy library. you also knew he was asking for your opinion on him beyond this little trip. “on the contrary, i like that you keep me on my toes.”

jeonghan grinned, turning his gaze on you for the quickest of moments, “so you should be thanking me instead of grumbling in the passenger seat.”

you spent the rest of the afternoon talking, learning more about the other outside sports and academics. you were surprised at how much you had in common and he enjoyed the intense debates you had on your differences.

→  that was the car ride that changed your relationship from rivals to reluctant friends. though you were never really rivals to jeonghan to begin with. arguments became few and far in between. your cheeks tinting pink less out of frustration and more out of being flustered as he became as  flirty as he was teasing. 

→  unfortunately, he would be transferring schools the following year, just as you started to see him as more than a rival or a friend. 

→  and you didn’t find out about it until the first day of your senior year.

“wait, where’s jeonghan?” you asked your friend, noticing the lack of his usual teasing voice greeting you in the morning.

“didn’t he tell you?”

“tell me what?”

“he transferred schools yn.”

❥•  jeonghan knew he’d be transferring schools months before he even took you on that drive. he also knew he had grown feelings for you much before that. but with his father’s job needing them to relocate halfway across the country, he couldn’t find it in himself to confess. not when he knew he eventually would have to leave you. so when you bombarded his phone with texts, demanding that he explain why he couldn’t notify you of his move, all he could offer was an apology and another text telling you to check the last page of your english notebook.

you huffed as you looked down at your phone, that was all he had to say to you? after acting like he wasn’t just about to pack his bags and leave town for months on end.

still, you shook your head as you went to your closet, picking up the box where you kept your past notebooks. you shuffled past your science, math, art notebooks to find the one you used for english — still as neat and organized as you remember it to be. you flipped the notebook to its final page.

a quiet gasp escapes your lips as you read the words that were unmistakably in jeonghan’s handwriting,

don’t forget to live a little :) and don’t forget about me either. 

seventeen as all the boys you’ve loved and lost. next  ➤  vernon chwe, the first love

taglist: @t-secretpot @serenadesvt @chuu-soulmate​

ask/message to be part of the taglist <33

[luminecho]

Terrako/Harbinger Siv

A @hyrule-kingdom-updates theory

(HEAVY HKU & HWAOC SPOILERS!)

Siv is going to die in HKU.

Well, maybe not. Or maybe he will. Quill hasn’t exactly been clear with us. But there’s a bit of evidence stacked towards him dying (and in a very specific way, too— but we’ll get to that). Specifically this quote from the “Hearts and Minds and Livers” arc.

[Siv:] I... got this gut feeling...

[Launo:] Oh that’s compelling...

[Siv:] LISTEN. Now’s not the time to sass me, Birch! I feel like, well. I have a very strong suspicion that within the week I am going to die.

[Launo:] EXCUSE ME?!

[Siv:] And... it’s very hard to explain, but I’m quite certain that certain series of events are going to transpire that could maybe possibly harm myself, in the coming week.

This is a very specific piece of foreshadowing that I don’t see Quill putting in without reason. It feels less like a “gut feeling” and more like an omen. As of the current arc, it is still “this week.” Zelda’s birthday is still soon, and the Calamity is presumably going to strike VERY soon. If we trust Siv’s gut and assume that he truly IS going to die, then that begs the question: how will he die?

I’d like to take a moment to point out the very clear parallels between Siv and Terrako in the story so far. Because, if you think about it, Siv and Terrako have a lot more in common than meets the eye. In HKU, Siv has been repeatedly referred to as the calamity’s ���vessel.” In Age of Calmity, Harbinger Ganon was the Calamity using Terrako as a vessel, possessing it and controlling its every move, using it to carry out his own deeds. In this timeline, Ganon has not latched onto Terrako, but Siv. The Calamity is using him as a vessel just like Terrako in AoC.

But it really makes you wonder if Siv’s similarities to Terrako don’t run deeper. If it’s even more intentional than it lets on. If perhaps, because of this, Siv will eventually share the same fate as Terrako.

Terrako (the good one)’s fate in Age of Calamity was to be possessed by Ganon, subsequently defeated by Link, before sacrificing himself for Zelda while on his last limbs. It’s, unfortunately, very easy to imagine Siv in this exact same scenario. We know Siv has quite a few people that he cares deeply about— no matter how much he denies it or spits insults at them, no matter how much they betray his trust, deep down, he still loves them. These people in particular being Larc & his family, Zavis, and Zelda.

In a hypothetical future, Siv might have snapped out of Ganon’s control long enough to realize that the people he loves are in serious danger... and he has the power to save them. He might decide to sacrifice himself to keep the people he cares about safe. The possibilities surrounding this scenario are endless, but the situation itself isn’t too hard to believe. The action wouldn’t at all be expected from him right now, not in his current state, but him making this choice as his final act could be a very plausible destination for his character development— for once choosing to put his loved ones above himself.

It’s not too hard to imagine. Especially when you consider the following evidence:

1. One of Quill’s OOC posts a long time ago in response to an ask was this:

Larc is sacrificing the greater good for his kids

Rhoam is sacrificing his kids for the greater good

Ligero is sacrificing his kids for himself

Siv is.......

...Hm.

I wonder what pattern, if any, will go from there.

Quill was obviously hinting at something, and even as far into the story as we are now, we still don’t know what Quill was talking about. But wouldn’t it be very fitting for the sentence to come after this to be “Siv is sacrificing himself for [the greater good or his kids]?”

2. Larc’s whole thing in “Sibling Fights, Hollow Knights, and Destiny Rewrites” was that he ended up intentionally hurting himself in order to prevent himself from hurting others. I could see this being used as either foreshadowing or a direct parallel to what Siv might do in the future. Again, it’s a very possible line of character development for Siv.

3. Two images tagged “???,” when brightened, showed to have a LOT of text in it, all of which have either appeared in actual HKU dialogue since the images were posted, or presumably will show up soon. This line in particular stood out to me, though:

Please! He didn’t do anything. My family didn’t do anything. It was all me.

Now, of course, we don’t know who’s speaking this. But, if we choose to assume that it’s Siv speaking, that would line up very well with the idea of him choosing to put his loved ones before himself, perhaps standing in someone’s path and preventing them from hurting his family...

Again, it’s entirely possible that this could be anyone else speaking. There’s a lot of other people it could be. But if it is Siv, then that would make a lot of sense with everything else I’ve mentioned.

4. This one is much more recent— a quote from Link’s Declaration during “Like the Eggs and Men Before Her”:

And if I’m wrong, well. Have my life then. But even then, I think we would rather die living as ourselves, and not vessels of someone else’s will.

There’s the word “vessel” popping up again... this line really feels like foreshadowing. Considering Siv is one of the few other characters associated with being a vessel... maybe he would rather die as himself than as a vessel of Ganon’s will, in the end.

So, there you have it. There’s a lot of evidence pointing towards the theory that Siv is going to sacrifice himself in the end in order to save the people he loves. He might get possessed entirely by Ganon, causing the others to have to fight him in order to free him just like Terrako in AOC— or maybe something else will happen. The possibilities are endless when you think about all the parallels, but, unfortunately (or maybe fortunately?), the possibility of Siv sacrificing himself seems pretty likely.

There might be more evidence that I’ve missed— feel free to mention it if you know of something! A lot of credit goes to everybody on the HKU Discord for bouncing around ideas for this theory! I’m not the only one with this theory, I just wrote everything I had in my own personal notes into an essay for fun.

[cotncandyboifics]

1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 1

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 1,780

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: <none> (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: hook chapter go brr

...

Nice to meet you, where you been?

I can show you incredible things

Magic, madness, heaven, sin

Saw you there, and I thought

"Oh my god, look at that face

You look like my next mistake"

Love's a game, wanna play?

Roman checked his watch discreetly as he walked down the hall toward his first class. 7:58. He was almost late, but not quite. As he walked in, earning a glare from Mr. Berry and a few students, he glanced at the whiteboard. It read: "Tuesday, September 3 / Classwork: OT essay workday / Homework: OT Analysis and Essay due FRIDAY". The word "Friday" was written sloppily large and underlined. Roman just kept his sleepy poker face and walked to his desk, in the second-to-last row in the middle. He'd not noticed the shrunken figure at the desk next to him, whom everyone knew but no one liked. Virgil Black.

New money, suit and tie

I can read you like a magazine

Ain't it funny, rumors fly

And I know you've heard about me

So hey, let's be friends

I'm dying to see, how this one ends

Grab your passport, and my hand

I can make the bad guys good for a weekend.

Virgil shoved his hands in his hoodie pockets as he glared in Roman's general direction from behind bright purple bangs. His scowl deepened as Roman pulled out his notebook but didn't take his single earbud out, proceeding to doodle on the margins of his notebook.

Roman propped his head up on his right palm, tilting his head carelessly as he drew stars around a stick man's head. By this time, the plump red-faced man known as Mr. Berry, teacher of English 12, had taken his respected place at the front of the class for a quick lecture before they began classwork.

So it's gonna be forever,

Or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over,

If the high was worth the pain

Got a long list of ex-lovers,

They'll tell you I'm insane

'Cus you know I love the players,

And you love the game

"Good morning students," He said in a blubbering gritty voice, the sagging skin below his chin bouncing comically as he did so. "I trust you completed reading the rest of the book. Now, as I'm sure you've noticed, the Analysis and quotes along with your essay's final draft are due - both printed - on Friday. If you turn it in on Monday, it'll drop two letter grades, and any time after that is a zero. I should hope this first assignment will get you in the punctual mindset for my class." The large man was walking about the room, between desks checking for cheating or kids working ahead. He was strict, and didn't tolerate out-of-line behavior. As he completed his sentence, his eyes fell on Roman, who was still slouched apathetically, doodling, earbud in. The students watching Mr. Berry saw his face somehow achieve a deeper hue of red and his eyes bulge, as a bull does when it spots it's target. Roman however, didn't notice; a pale-faced Virgil tried to get his attention without the teacher noticing.

'Cus we're young and we're reckless,

We'll take this way too far

It'll leave you breathless,

Or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers,

They'll tell you I'm insane

But I've got a blank space baby...

And I'll write your name.

"Psst. Roman." he hissed in vain. Roman's earbud was in his right ear, the same side Virgil was sitting on, so quiet noises from that direction were inaudible to him. Despite the class's uneasiness as Mr. Berry made his way to Roman's seat, and though Roman was fully aware of the fat fuming man advancing on him, he made no change in expression or focus; merely, filled in the dark half of the yin yang he had sketched next to his name as he lightly mouthed the words of the song.

Mr. Berry stopped right in front of Roman's desk, looking down at him furiously. When Roman ignored him, he took further action. Just as Roman had completed the yin yang, a fat red hand came down loudly on his desk and a sudden "MR. PRINCE!!" Erupted from the old man's gullet.

Cherry lips, crystal skies

I can show you incredible things

Stolen kisses, pretty lies

You're the king baby I'm your queen

Find out what you want,

Be that girl for a month

Wait, the worst is yet to come... oh no.

Roman looked up at him slowly, but no trace of fear could be found on his face. Even, a slight smirk hinting at the corners of his mouth. But, not enough for the old man to notice.

"What sort of media is emitting from those... earphones?" Mr. Berry said, bug-eyed.

Roman held up the earbud that wasn't in his ear, looking at it. "You mean these?" He said.

Mr. Berry simply sighed and rolled his eyes frustratedly. "Yes, 'in those', Mr. Prince. You'd better have an adequate response."

Screaming, crying, perfect storms

I can make all the tables turn

Rose garden filled with thorns

Keep you second guessing, like

"Oh my god, who is she?"

I get drunk on jealousy

But you'll come back each time you leave

'Cus darling I'm a nightmare dressed like a daydream.

Roman held the old man's gaze, as if searching for something within his grey-brown orbs. After a moment, he sighed quietly and said, "Taylor Swift."

His response earned a few snickers from other students, to which Mr. Berry scanned the room to see if he could bust two students in one go.

Most of the students thought he looked like Napoleon from the 1954 animated movie based on Animal Farm, a fair comparison. His balding head and fat body gave him an appearance that was quite comparable to a pig.

After a moment of glaring at a few of the known renegades of the class, he returned his focus to Roman. But, this time, he didn't appear as angry; rather, he was smiling gently, but his eyes still held an angry glow. "Since you see no point in listening to my lecture, I'm sure you wouldn't mind showing the class a sufficient outline for your first draft essay? Along with the requirements, of course," the senile man's smirk curled up into a grin as he spoke, tilting his head a bit. Roman merely smirked himself, and stood.

So it's gonna be forever,

Or it's gonna go down in flames

You can tell me when it's over,

If the high was worth the pain

Got a long list of ex-lovers,

They'll tell you I'm insane

'Cus you know I love the players,

And you love the game

Mr. Berry watched in moderate surprise as Roman walked swiftly past the rows of desks to the whiteboard, uncapped an expo marker, and began writing in neatly printed lettering. "Ok, so the final draft is due on Friday," He began, "So you should have your first draft completed by tonight. The essay must have at least five body paragraphs, a minimum of two quotes each-" Virgil watched, shocked, gripping his pencil so that his knuckles paled. "So I hope you've picked out your quotes already. The thesis needs to answer the prompt, obviously. Conclusion should be at least five sentences. So overall, about two or three pages. I'd recommend using this class time to create an outline in your notebook, and typing up a first draft. Have your second draft done tomorrow, and final details on Thursday. And because Mr. Berry is too... behind the times to use Google Classroom, you'll need to print it out and hand it in physically. I'm sure Mr. Berry isn't partial to the trees we're killing, so if you're in Environmental club, I'd not bother complaining." And with this final sentence, Roman touched up his writing on the board and walked back to his seat, never taking out his earbud.

'Cus we're young and we're reckless,

We'll take this way too far

It'll leave you breathless,

Or with a nasty scar

Got a long list of ex-lovers,

They'll tell you I'm insane

But I got a blank space baby...

And I'll write your name.

Mr. Berry was still standing over Roman's desk, now staring down at him with large eyes. He opened his mouth slightly to say something, but was interrupted by another student asking a question. From then on, Mr. Berry ignored Roman, which was an easy feat, as Roman did the same.

After a little over half an hour, the bell rang, and Roman slung his backpack over his shoulder and walked out. Mr. Berry considered asking him why he'd only doodled for the entirety of the class period and not worked on his essay, but his pride got the best of him, and he watched as the young man walked out of the room confidently.

Virgil had slipped out before Roman, and was now pretending to exchange things in his locker, which was unfortunately right next to Roman's. The tall jock walked up to his own locker, earning a scowl from the darker boy.

"What? Enjoy the show I put on in Mr. Diabetes' class?" Roman said, leaning against the lockers as Virgil shut his own. The dark boy just grunted and walked off, feeling Roman's eyes watching as he turned a corner. Roman smirked for the hundredth time that morning when he was gone and turned to open his own locker. When a few girls from the cheer team started to linger, flipping their hair and puffing out their chests, and Roman actively ignored them until he walked past close enough that a few of them let out squeals. He heard the usual murmurs from behind him, "he's so hot," and "I'd kill to be his date to Homecoming." He smirked to himself again, making his way to his Physics class.

...

Virgil spotted is best friend Patton in his usual seat as he walked into his second period Economics class. The boy smiled at Virgil up on seeing him, and waved happily.

"Hello Virgil!! how are you feeling this morning?" He said cheerily as Virgil took the seat next to him, sliding his backpack under the desk.

"Alright I guess." He thought about telling Patton about Roman, but thought better of it; Patton had enough on his plate to worry about as it was.

As for Patton, he had already taken to pulling out his notebook, preparing for a long class of note-taking. Economics was one of the most note-heavy classes either of the boys had, and usually required all their focus. As the teacher stood from his desk and turned on his projector, Virgil could've sworn he saw Patton staring at someone, but as soon as he looked, Patton focused on the teacher, readying his pencil. But, Virgil being the parano- vigilant person he was, followed what he thought was Patton's line of sight to... Logan Montgomery? What? Upon realizing who he had thought Patton was looking at, he brushed it off. There's no way Patton would be looking at him. is there?

[rare-yanderes]

So I just realized that if there’s yandere versions of the DuckTales characters, it’s usually not from the 1987 version so here ya go. Kinda wrote this in a rush since I have work and work and work and work and you get the idea.

TW for mentions of murder, kidnapping, endangerment, manipulation, stalking and abuse.

Posts will be much less frequent and more sporadic, my apologies. I’m just kinda losing it with juggling college and a minimum wage job.

•I see Glomgold as a possessive, obsessive and manipulative yandere.

•Now Glomgold isn’t exactly an intimidating by looks kind of person so depending on how you first meet, I imagine you’d be certainly caught off guard. He’s so self absorbed he couldn’t possibly connect with someone else beyond seeing them as a tool to use to gain the advantage over Scrooge.

•Do not mistake his age for weakness. He may not be at peak physical strength but he’s still getting a workout by adventuring and engaging in dangerous fights, so he’s not weak by any means. His ruthlessness disallows him from giving up that easily in a battle.

•If you work for McDuck industries you bet your ass that this whole scenario will at first play out as a rivalry. Glomgold’s hatred for Scrooge goes to bizarre, petty lengths. As far as you’re concerned, you are just another attempt to piss Scrooge off and so Glomgold’s original intent of doing so by kidnapping you seems relatively normal and you don’t fear trying to escape the goons he sends to catch you. Eventually, however, Glomgold’s actions will portray otherwise and even his lies won’t spare you from the truth; he’s gobsmacked with you.

•Jealous, jealous, jealous. If jealously physically manifested itself as a person, Glomgold would be the result. Seriously, he cannot stand when your attention isn’t solely on him and his accomplishments. Often times, especially in the early stages of his obsession, he’ll devise plans to monopolize and direct your attention towards him. Any of your focus on anything else is a crime, even if it’s something as dumb as a butterfly floating around. If you’re in a conversation with someone else, he’ll pull you away with an excuse. If you’re doing your own thing, he’ll bud in and loom over your shoulder the entire time.

•If there’s someone else participating, he’ll whisper threats and blackmail into their ear or althogether sabatoge your experience with them so you never hang around them again.

•It’s a big mistake to ignore him in any form, even for a few seconds. His resulting wrath is not a pretty sight, especially in public. Talking to Scrooge especially pisses him off to a murderous edge. He’ll do anything to get you away from Scrooge, who he sees as trying to take you away from him. The idea that you’re focus is anywhere else but on him is incredibly frustrating to him and is a bit of a damage to his ego.

•Pathological liar. In an attempt to keep your attention and praise solely focused towards him, Glomgold will absolutely lie and spin fables on some of his achievements. He’ll say he’s #1, he’ll talk about how he’s saved people before. He’ll put on a charitable front, blabing about his recent donation to homeless shelters. (This of course, is probably false.) He’ll blackmail, extort, and cheat his way to you if he has to without remorse.

•He’s not just lying to you about himself, he’s lying to you about other people in an attempt to isolate you from them. To Glomgold, everyone else’s attempts at befriending you are an invocation of rivalry that he must prove he can triumph in. Any friends you had are now Glomgold and his approved inner circle which he still gets jealous of if you’re with them for too long. He seems himself as a perfectly fine replacement for all friends and family you have, a result of his ego.

•Speaking of ego, despite lying to you about being better at everything than everyone else, (especially Scrooge,) he can’t help but sometimes believe his own lies if you go along with them too. If you want to get on his good side, you’d better start playing along and flattering him to all hell. If he’s angry and about to murder someone, your reassurance may just save their life. Calming him down by complimenting him usually works and detours him long enough for the offender to escape with their life.

•Unfortunately, using this tactic has the opposite effect in any escape effort you may have planned. The more attention you give Glomgold, the greedier and more needy of it he gets until he’s so attached to you you won’t be able to remember a time he isn’t around you.

•Likes trashing Scrooge McDuck in any way possible. Any idolization of him from you is a huge nope. If he’s not doting on you, vying for your attention, he’s plotting on how to kill, steal, or make Scrooge McDuck miserable. The most comical thing about this is that he also wants you to share in his collective hatred of Scrooge McDuck, so get ready to hear about it all the time. Disagree and you’ll have an entire essay of why Scrooge sucks handed to you.

•Still really offstandish about spending his fortune so instead of buying you expensive gifts and items, he’ll steal them by hiring others to do his dirty work then play it off as just a simple act of kindness. This has double points, it lowers your guard around him and it also means he doesn’t have to be any less poor.

•Directly confronting Glomgold about his behavior is a bad idea. Any hit to the ego causes him to freak out and try to mend it in dangerous ways by either proving he’s better or eliminating the threat altogether. Any idea that you’re about to leave and focus your energy elsewhere will cause him to go from rationally plotting rivals downfalls financially to irrationally murdering them out of anger. Then, he’ll cling onto you even more so you don’t leave his sight.

•As his obsession grows, so does his possessiveness. Eventually, there may come a time where he sees you as more of a diamond to polish than a person with a separate existence, especially when he’s parading you around Scrooge. You’re his greatest treasure and he’s not about to give you up. He’ll brag about how he’s got the upper hand over Scrooge, how he’s got the one thing that’s more valuable than anything else.

•On the idea of parading you around, Glomgold loves showing off how wealthy he is to everyone else. You’ll be in public, dragged wherever he wants you to go, participating in whatever activities he wants you to participate in. At least, unlike other victims of yanderes, you will have the rare privilege to go outside. Unfortunately and obviously, it’s only if Glomgold is no more than three feet from you at all times.

•Escape results in angry threats of murder to people you care about, especially any friends or family. Glomgold is already a psychopath, so there won’t be any forwarning. There won’t be any downfall or an attempt to stop himself. As soon as he’s attached, he’ll do anything to achieve his goal. He has no qualms about murder. It’s rare that he’ll ever be the one to directly cause it though, preferring to hire assassins and other people while he watches from afar.

•He’ll deny it every time the idea is brought to the table, but man is he lonely. He doesn’t have close family like Scrooge and people who care about him beyond the business deals he makes. So much of his need for attention comes from that depressing fact. Few enjoy his company or hangs around purely because they like him. Maybe you ended up being dopesh enough to spare him some kindness and he just attracted to it obsessively. Don’t let him use it against you, though. He’ll guilt trip you however he needs to have you falling into his hands.

• A yandere (DT2017) Scrooge sees you as someone fragile and in need of a loving guardian to protect you. Scrooge would honestly lock you away and swallow the key and say it’s for your protection. Very lovey dovey despite having a rough exterior. Honestly, I think that 1987 Scrooge would be much like the DT 2017 version only much more possessive than just overprotective, and a little less affectionate.

• A yandere (1987) Glomgold on the other hand sees you as the prized treasure he needs to show off to everyone he runs in to. Someone who needs to have their attention on him at all times. This may, depending on the circumstances, make it a little easier to escape if you can somehow get his attention off of you for one single second. (Usually by pointing out where Scrooge is if there’s an event involving him)

•The same goes with the 2017 version, though I think with that version of Glomgold, you may have a better chance at using his emotions against him. The 2017 Glomgold is more childish and a little less logical so you’d have an easier chance. Plus, he’s short as fuck lol.

[queenlua]

You're a druid and an ex-evangelical, right? What does being a druid mean to you? How did you get from evangelicalism to where you are now? And of course feel free to ignore this if it's nosy. (sincerely, a Christian who wants to leave but who doesn't know what to do)

this is going to make me sound ignorant as hell, lol, but i'm happy to share

under a cut because this got very long, sorry, lol.

my personal progression was: "vaguely christian -> VERY christian -> christian agnostic -> agnostic/atheist -> agnostic/druid -> some sorta druid-neopagan-animist thing."  i guess i'll just go through what made me switch between each of those, and close out with some high-level thoughts that may be helpful for you?

okay, so when i was

VAGUELY CHRISTIAN,

i went to Sunday school every week because That's What You Do, and because my whole hometown was very southern Baptist, i never questioned the veracity of its teachings much... until they ran a whole weekly series on "why [x] is wrong," where [x] is some other group

e.g., we had a week on why Mormons are wrong, and i didn't bat an eye because i hadn't even known Mormons existed until that moment

then we had a week on why Muslims are wrong, and that... bothered me, because i had a friend who was Muslim, and she was just objectively a better person than me, and i was like "any universe where she goes to hell and i don't seems really fucked up"

then we had a week on why EVOLUTION was wrong, and that just absolutely threw me, because while i hadn't thought about evolution much (i think i was in fourth grade or so), it seemed common-sense? scientists thought highly of it? "adaptation over time" just seems logical?

so i went to the public library every day after school for like a week, read some Darwin and some science books, and came back to my Sunday school teacher with, like, an itemized list of objections to the whole "evolution is wrong" thing.  and he came up with some standard Answers In Genesis rebuttals, and i did more research and came back the next week with more science, and we repeated this a few times until he was like "lua, you just gotta take some things on faith"

which.  lmao.  full existential crisis time, because no matter how hard i thought, i couldn't *not* believe in the science, but i also didn't want to go to hell, so i was like "maybe if i believe SUPER HARD i will SOMEDAY be able to unbelieve the condemn-me-to-hell bits"

so i decided to become

VERY CHRISTIAN

and my frantic googling for shit like "proof of god" and "god and evolution" *eventually* broke me out of the Answers In Genesis circles of the internet, and into some decent Christian apologia, like, think First Things and various Catholic bloggers.  and there, i found some way to square my gut sense that evolution was right, with a spiritual worldview.

like, i remember finding some blogger who said:

"young earth creationists get tripped up when they try to explain stars that are millions of light-years away, and end up basically arguing that God's tricking us somehow, and—no!  my God lets you believe in the evidence of your eyes, my God does not demand that you make yourself ignorant or stupid, my God expects you to use your brain"

and i just started crying at my computer, because no one had ever said "using your brain is Good and part of God's will," i was like *finally* here's someone who won't tell me i'm going to hell for just *thinking* about things

(st. augustine does a much better riff on a similar theme, fwiw, but i only found him later)

still, it was an uneasy fit, because, the more i learned and read about world history, the more it seemed... weird... that the One And Singular Path To Salvation was... the successor to some niche desert cult... which didn't even occur at the *beginning* of written history, like, it was all predated by that whole Mithraism thing, etc... and like, sure, i could trot out all the standard theological talking points for why Actually This Makes Perfect Sense, but gut-level-wise, the aesthetics just seemed kinda dumb!  and no level of talking myself out of it made that feeling go away!

so at this point i started referring to myself as a

CHRISTIAN AGNOSTIC

i mean, not aloud.  i still lived in southernbaptistopia and i didn't want, like, my hair stylist to tell me i was a horrible person.  but in my *head* i called myself Christian agnostic and it felt right.

and i started church-hopping, which honestly was really fun, would recommend to anyone at any point.  i visited the fire-and-brimstone baptist church, the methodist church, the episcopalians, the universal unitarians, etc.

unfortunately, while this gave me *some* new perspectives, each of the places either had the same shitty theology as my old megachurch (i remember the *acute* sense of despair i felt when i was starting to jive with a methodist church... only for the dumbass youth minister to start going on about evolution), or, they just lacked any sense of the *sacred*.  like, the Church of Christ churches, with their a capella services, *definitely* had it; i felt more God there in one service than i did in a lifetime of shitty Christian rock at the megachurch.  but their beliefs were even *more* batshit, so.  big L on that one.

having failed to find a satisfactory church, i was basically

AGNOSTIC/ATHEIST

by the time i went to college, but honestly pretty unhappy about it; while it was harder than ever for me to actually *connect* with the divine, i didn't like thinking that my previous experiences of the divine were total lies.  because my shitty evangelical church, for all its faults, could not *completely* sabotage the sense of God's presence.  there were real moments in that church where i do believe i experienced something divine.  mostly mediated by one particular youth minister, who in hindsight was the only spiritual teacher in that church who didn't seem a bit rotten inside, but!  it was something!

so when i happened upon a bunch of writings on the now-defunct shii.org (that's the bit that makes me look WILDLY ignorant, lol), i was utterly captivated.

said author was a previous archdruid of the Reformed Druids of North America, an organization that was formed in the 1960s to troll the administration of Carleton College (there was a religious-service-attendance requirement; they made their own religion; their religion had whiskey and #chilltimes for its services).  however, this shii.org dude seemed to take it pretty seriously.  he was studying history of religion and blogged a lot about his studies, both academic and otherwise.  while RDNA had started out as a troll, that didn't mean they hadn't *discovered* something real in the process, he said.

this, already, was going to be innately appealing to me; i've got a soft spot for wow-we-were-doing-this-ironically-but-now-it's-kinda-real? stuff in general.

in particular, shii.org’s discussions on the separation of ritual from belief was really interesting to me: most religions/spiritualities have *both*, but like, you can do a ritual without having the Exact Right Beliefs (if there even is such a thing!), and it can still be useful to you, it can have real power.  (he had a really lovely essay, speculating on the origins of religion as just a form of art, but that essay is now lost to the sands of time, alas.)

(note that i wouldn't really recommend seeking out *recent* writing by the shii.org guy; he kinda went full tedious neoreactionary-blowhard-who-reads-a-lot-of-Spengler at some point?  sigh.)

the shii.org guy led me to checking out a bunch of books on the history of neopaganism & also books by scholars of religion in general, and the more i read, the more excited i became.  and i started doing little ritual/meditation stuff here and there.

then i was fortunate enough to attend some events with Earthspirit (this was when i lived in Boston), which cemented my hippie dalliances into something more real.  the folks there, being from Boston, were all ridiculously overeducated (a sensibility that appeals to me), but also, being the kind of folks who drive out to a mountain in the middle of nowhere for a spiritual retreat, they tolerated a full range of oddities (everyone from aging-70s-feminist-wiccans to living-on-a-farm-with-your-bros-Astaru to dude-who-started-having-weird-visions-and-is-just-trying-to-figure-out-the-deal to Nordic-spiritualist-with-two-phds-from-Scandanavian-universities-on-the-subject, etc), which gave me a lot of room to explore different types of rituals, ceremonies, "magic", etc.

(polytheism in general lends itself well to this sort of easy plurality!  i can believe other people are experiencing something real with their gods, and i can be talking to a totally different set of gods, and that’s just all very compatible, etc)

anyway, i started calling myself

AGNOSTIC/DRUID

around then, because i knew i'd found *something*, something that felt like all the realest moments i'd ever had in nature, and all the realest moments i'd ever had in that shitty megachurch, but i wasn't quite ready to put a theology to it.

but, idk, you do the thing for a while, and you start encountering some things that you may as well call gods, and you realize you're in pretty deep, and you ditch the "agnostic" bit and just throw hands and start describing yourself as

SOME SORTA DRUID-NEOPAGAN-ANIMIST THING

because that's the most precise thing you can muster.  in particular, the druid bit resonates because nature's still very much at the center of my practice; the neopagan bit resonates because i'm not especially interested in reconstructing older traditions or being faithful to any actual pre-Christian traditions, and animist resonates because what i sometimes call gods seem to be tied pretty tightly to the land itself.  it's all very experiential; all this mostly means i'm some weird chick who sometimes grabs a car and drives out someplace very lonely and hikes for a while and does some hippie shit to try and talk with the land or the god or whatever is there.  and sometimes i come back from it changed, or refocused, or what-have-you, and hopefully i'm better for it.  i'm aware this makes me look a little ridiculous, and is an unsatisfying answer, sorry!

WRT YOUR SITUATION

i don't know you or your situation, obviously, but if i wanted to give former-me some advice to save her some angst, i'd say

-> Christendom itself is far wilder and more diverse than many churches lead you to believe.  if you still want to be Christian on some level, and it's just a shitty church that's convinced you the whole project is fucked, i'd honestly explore, i dunno, your nearest Quaker meeting.  they're invoking the Holy Spirit with regularity but they're not raging douchenozzles about it.

-> if you're specifically interested in druidism, i found John Michael Greer's "A World Full of Gods" really nice.  (caveat: Greer has *also* gone full right-wing nutjob these days, sigh, so like.  would not recommend a great swath of his writing.  but that one's good)

-> deciding that a just God wouldn't give me a brain and then ask me not to use it was hugely comforting to me.  like, that was the start of the whole process, that was what made me feel ok searching for other churches and trying to find something that fit.  obviously you should take this with 800 grains of salt, because obviously i'm no longer Christian, and thus maybe i'm just some poor misguided fallen soul, but... i still kinda believe that!  maybe if you can make yourself believe that, it'll seem less scary?

idk, happy to answer more questions, sorry for the long ramble, hope it helped~

[eriexplosion]

⭐ are the vikings characters also messed-up middled-aged men or just kind of ambiguously aged, also I still remember being entertained by that one alignment chart you edited for the characters (was one of the columns/rows about who would shake a vending machine for snacks?), anyway pls talk about whatever additional Bits you're excited about :3

They start out pretty youngish (I'd say early 30s?) but the series covers so much time that they BECOME messed up middle aged men in short order. Season one I think ends up covering like 2-3 years if you watch the seasons go by, season 2 then does a big 4 year time skip, we cover another year or so over the course of that season, then in season 4 we jump ahead like 10 years. Except all the women literally do not age in this time while the men get smacked in the face with the decade stick OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

(Also I think you are thinking of this one and the row that haunts me is Cracker Barrel Arson Charge. Think of that constantly.)

AS FOR INTERESTING BITS (well interesting to me anyway)

So, something I've been trying to do with Dragged into the Undertow, even if it focuses mostly on Athelstan, is to actually try to give Athelstan's life as a monk a little bit of weight and importance. In the show we learn basically nothing of his life pre-raid, we see a little bit of him with the other monks, and we hear a lot about his relation to faith of course, but the day to day life, the other monks, that we really never hear about. Possibly because it's depressing, pretty much all of them are dead now after all.

But to feel the impact of everything going on, it felt necessary to weave in parts from the other monks. Originally I just assigned names pulled from an old English generator, but it felt flat to just throw out a name with no context, so they all got basic traits assigned as I went along. I didn't really plan any of their personalities out, as I got to a point where someone needed to talk or interact, that was when I started thinking about Who That Monk Is.

In a feat of hubris, I thought I could do this without getting attached seeing as at least half of these monks are going to die horribly. I was very wrong, and so that meant that I had to look at these four and pick two who are going to get killed off. I didn't actually have the two dead monks selected until I wrote Just One Thing the Martyr Wants to Say, because by then I had at least base level personalities for each of them.

The important part is that I want to bring the two survivors back in a fic eventually, and have Athelstan confronted with the kindness he's shown by Ragnar with the suffering that his less fortunate brothers have gone through. So I had to consider mostly what would be the most interesting to play with when I got around to writing that - eventually I decided that elderly Auden and quiet and yielding Dunstan would have the least to offer in a plot like that, so they were the unfortunate ones to fill in for the canon monk deaths, leaving Athelstan with the monk friendliest to him, Ealdwine, and Stanford who is frankly an Asshole.

If you're wondering why all my fic so far is pre-relationship it's because I insist on doing shit like this while building up Athelstan's reactions to Ragnar and Floki. It's very easy to kind of brush over the fact that almost everyone Athelstan knows is dead because the show kind of does too, we see Athelstan and Ragnar bond and Athelstan become part of Viking society, but I think that only really has weight behind if it we see where he's coming from and what it feels like to lose that.

I also actually watched the raid scene probably six or seven times in preparation for this fic looking at two things - how many monks were spared and brought along in addition to Athelstan and exactly who among the Vikings did most of the killing. This was really interesting because it turns out the only four I didn't see do any killing at all were Ragnar, Floki, Leif, and Erik - which is also something I want to bring up at some point in story, maybe not this one but at some point. Especially since someone that Athelstan gets close to, Torstein, absolutely DOES do a ton of monk murder, and it would be interesting I think to have them address this before Athelstan is able to get too close to him. It's only luck, after all, that Athelstan wasn't one of the people killed, and it's a lot to realize if you've been pretty much purposely ignoring it.

Anyway yes, this is my essay on my purpose for including so much of these OC monks in Dragged into the Undertow, because to understand Athelstan being pulled abruptly from his way of life it's only right that we actually get to see what that life was.

[trashscenariihxh]

Pariston x Reader x Wing part 4

Enjoy~

If Pariston had taken offense to your sleeping on the sofa, he didn’t let on about it.  He greeted you in the morning cheerfully as he drank his coffee.  “You look tired,” he observed, setting his mug in the sink.

“I’m not, “ you lied, filling the kettle with water and turning it on.

“Well, tired or not, you certainly look it.”  He smiled unctuously at you as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.  Suddenly he furrowed his brow and tutted at you, grabbing your chin between his thumb and forefinger and tilting your face to the side.  “Oh, ____, you have more lines around your eyes.  Whatever shall we do about those, hm?”  His face relaxed back into a smile.  “Ah, nevermind.  I’ll go ahead and make you an appointment with Dr. Komacine.  She’s very good.  She’ll get you sorted out.”

“But I don’t--”

He waved a dismissive hand.  “Now Darling I don’t want to hear it.  I am, after all, doing you a favor.”  He furrowed his brow again.  “A very big favor.”  He stroked your cheek with his thumb.  “Have a wonderful day, Darling.”  He withdrew his hand and gave your cheek a closed-lipped kiss.  As he turned to leave, he added “I hope you aren’t intending to stay in your nightgown all day.” With those words, he strode out of the kitchen, put on his jacket, and left.

You stood, blankly watching after him, only dimly aware of the kettle boiling.  By the time you jerked yourself out of your stupor, it had nearly boiled dry.

***  

The hours between when Pariston left for work and when he got home always seemed to stretch to impossible lengths.  After you’d washed, gotten dressed, done your makeup and hair, there wasn’t much to do, except occasionally clean something that the cleaning staff missed, which didn’t happen very often.  Sometimes you managed to read for a bit, but the knowledge that Pariston would eventually come home drew your mind away from the pages.  As the seconds ticked by, you always wondered if you’d done enough.  Was the house clean enough?  Did you cook well enough?  Were you pretty enough?  Pariston’s standards seemed to change with the winds, so you never actually knew.  

You made yourself another cup of tea and sat on the sofa to do what you did every day: wait for Pariston’s return.  Once again, you found yourself longing for someone, anyone, to talk to.  Hell, you’d even welcome it if some Jehovah’s witnesses came to your door.  You thought back to the day before, when you’d run into Wing at the cafe.  It had been nice, talking to someone again.  You looked at your phone.  You could message him, see what he’s up to.  You could even arrange to meet for more coffee.

You bit your lip.  Would it be weird to message him this soon?  It might be.  You stared at your phone, considering what to do.  Wing was your only friend-- acquaintance-- at this point in time and you really didn’t want to scare him away by being too needy.  Chewing your lip, you decided against sending him a message, deciding you’d wait a couple days.  Maybe a week.  Yes, you decided, you’d wait a week before sending any messages to him.  You’d just get coffee by yourself in the meantime.

***  

You lasted three days.  You were sitting on the sofa again when the urge to talk to somebody came over you, and you grabbed your phone and sent the message before you could stop yourself.

“Hi.  It was great chatting the other day.  Would love to meet up again some time.”

You waited, wondering if you’d made a grave error.  Was the message too long? Too formal?  You stared at the phone screen, wishing you could unsend the text.

*** 

It took four hours for Wing to reply.  His reply was short and simple:

“Me too.”

Me too?  Me too what?  Had he had a good time, or did he want to meet up again?  Both?  You hoped it was both.  Spurred on by a desire to figure out which, you replied:

“Would you like to meet again? Coffee?”

You paused before sending the text, wondering if you were being too forward.  If Pariston saw… You clenched your jaw in determination.  If Pariston saw, it wouldn’t matter.  You’d tell him the truth: that you were meeting an old friend for coffee.  You hit send.

Wing only took a minute or two to respond:

“Sure :)”

You couldn’t help smiling to yourself.  After years of isolation, you were finally making plans with someone.  A friend at last.  Not wanting to keep him waiting, you immediately responded.

“When are you free?”  You were basically free whenever Pariston wasn’t at home, which was often; it would be better to adjust to Wing’s schedule.

“Weekends.  Most late afternoons.”

You could do that.  Not wanting to appear too eager, you suggested that you meet up next Thursday.  Wing’s reply was almost immediate.

“Sounds good.  See you then.”

***

You arrived at the same cafe you’d gone to before with a spring in your step.  Not only because you were about to socialize for the first time in a week, but also because, in an act of subtle rebellion, you had decided to wear flats instead of the painful heels that Pariston always insisted you wear.  Upon entering, you ordered an earl grey and scanned the room for free tables.

You spotted Wing sitting at a corner table with papers spread out before him.  You hesitated to approach him for a moment, wondering whether he was too busy to actually meet somebody, but your fears were soon assuaged when he caught sight of you.  Wing smiled and waved you over, shuffling the papers into a messy pile and shoving them into his briefcase.

“Busy?” You smiled, sitting down across from him and setting your drink on the table.

“Just marking exams,” he sighed.  “I swear, some of the stuff my students write…”

“Tell me about it,” you laughed, rolling your eyes.  “Back when I taught, my students often wrote the most ridiculous essays imaginable.  I still remember one particularly bad paper about the Hanseatic League…”  you shook your head. 

“I bet you’re happy to have all that behind you.”  He smiled warmly at you, genuinely pleased at your apparent good fortune.

“Yeah,” you answered, forcing a smile.  “Yeah, I’m happy I don’t have to deal with any of that now!”  As you spoke, you felt a tug in your chest. It had been a lie; sometimes, when you were lying in bed alone, you thought about how you’d give anything to have your old job back.  Your old job, your friends.  Your freedom.  It all seemed so distant now. 

You sipped your tea, content to listen to Wing’s stories about his students.  You noticed that even though he apparently held his students to very high standards, he was still full of praise for them all.  You wondered what it would be like to have even an ounce of his patience.

“So do you not work, then?” Wing asked, picking up his mug.

You shook your head, suddenly embarrassed.  “No.  No, I don’t.”

“And your husband? What does he do?”  He didn’t have to say it, but you could guess what Wing was thinking.

How much does he earn to support a leech like you?

“My husband? He’s a lawyer.”

Wing nodded.  “That’s a demanding job.”

“Yeah.  He’s often stressed out,” you lied again.  Pariston never seemed remotely stressed out, no matter how long he stayed at the office.

“I’m really glad we could meet up again,” you blurted out suddenly.  When Wing looked surprised at the rapid change of subject, you quickly added that you spent most days at home alone, seeing as how Pariston was so busy.

“That must be difficult,” Wing nodded in understanding.  “Do you not get out much at all?”

“Nah.”  You shook your head.  “To be honest, it gets pretty lonely.”

“I can imagine.”

“Hey,” you set down your now-empty mug, “would you mind if we did this again?  More often, maybe?”

[letamreviews]

A Response - Cuties (2020): Missing the Point

Text Aloud (3:18) version removed (for licensing reasons). Audio version to be done (eventually).

This here’s a refined version of a short write up I originally made in response to a movie peep’s review for Cuties, in which she explained how much she was against the ”voyeuristic camera.“

(page break included just before Minor Spoilers)

And~ here we go. The close-up shots are to bring us back to the reality of the situation. To make it clear that these 11 year-olds are imitating the adults they see in media and, in doing so, knowingly sexualizing themselves (but without full understanding). To avert the camera for us would be to maintain a lie of the matter. That things aren't that bad. That "yeah, they're dancing provocatively, but it's nothing to be too worried about." Four moments make clear the seriousness of what's going on clear, 1) the age lie, 2) the begging, 3) the dancer proof, 4) the nodding head. Hell, anybody who wants the film removed or restricted from adult viewing is essentially demanding that others stop providing the option of seeing the world. Kinda like telling news channels not to show footage of atrocities.

Since I never got around to writing a full essay elaborating on my standpoint, see the following videos.

female perspectives

I watched Cuties and it was Disturbing - caffinejedi

The Cuties conversation is infuriating. - For Harriet

'Cuties' was CHAOTIC...and Complex. - Tee Noir

male perspectives

WE WATCHED CUTIES & ITS COMPLICATED - Aba & Preach

If you want to PROTECT KIDS, shows like Dance Moms need to go. - Aba & Preach

to actually see kids of various ages dancing to today's music like it's completely normal

Ciara - Level Up - Choreography by @thebrooklynjai​

Ciara - Level Up (official music video) - Ciara

As far as examples of the worst things they did in the film goes,... I don't really want to search for any. Fortunately, Aba & Preach bring up a few in their first video and show some in the second. Here’s one of them.

Next Generation Dancers - Sierra Neudeck - TJ & the Lil Mama's - Sierra Neudeck

tl;dr: The close-up shots are a dark mirror into which society must either gaze or voluntarily avert itself from.

06/12/22 Edit: For reasons involving flags, I’ve personally cancelled Aba & Preach. The links will remain because I don’t feel like digging up other male perspectives. 🤷🏿‍♂️ 08/13/23 Edit: Tee Noir‘s video has been added to the “female perspectives” list.

Clarification:

While the N-word is typically used in Aba & Preach’s videos, I don’t take kindly to the term. What I’m getting at is do not test my patience with it. No, I don’t owe you an explanation. Do some research instead.

Addition: (Minor Spoilers)

I just realized/remembered something while going through my screenshots. The baking soda scene was representative of their age and parenting. Notice the method Angelica used to help Amy’s wound heal faster. Not the product. How she went about it.

Instead of water, she used spit.

Instead of licking her finger, she spat/drooled on it from above the open bag of baking soda.

Instead of doing it neatly, she leaves a mess on her forehead.

It’s debatable how much of this is reflective of their age vs parents’ lack of taking the time to teach them things, but ‘eh. Truth be told, though, the fact that she knows a trick like that makes me wonder about her home environment, especially considering her conflicts with her older brother.

Real quick, tho. There’s also the noticeable neglect of her younger siblings the more she gets into the popular / cool / internet famous lifestyle. Could write an essay on that shit alone, but fuck it I’m done.

[madebysamael]

That post I reblogged from Rosalarian earlier is really making me reflect. (Or ramble, however you prefer to see it.)

They and I (is that the right way to say it?) are about the same age; we grew up in the same period, the rapid, seemingly limitless expansion of the webcomic. (They were, in fact, one of the first webcomic artists I followed.) I loved webcomics, I devoured them, I discovered my own queerness partly through them. Hell, I wrote my final capstone essay on a genre deconstruction of them. (The professor kept that essay as a model to use for future classes, by the way. Gotta toot that horn while I can.)

I was a bright student in school, one of those kids who was told "you can be anything you want to be." I was good at science, math, languages, and reading. I took a school-sponsored career guidance quiz that told me I would be an ideal doctor.

But all I ever wanted to be was a comic artist. And for a while, seeing the success of webcomic artists like Rosalarian made me think that maybe... just maybe... That could be me.

Then I got the chance to have my portfolio reviewed. I wanted to go to art school, and my parents weren't discouraging the idea. The university was offering me a great scholarship for my GPA, too! So my mom drove me several hours away to walk me into that office, big black book in my tiny, trembling hands.

And then I was told my art was - and I remember this word exactly, and will for the rest of my life - "trite." The counselor told me that this "wasn't the kind of stuff we focus on here," gesturing to the giant oil still life on the wall. At one point, she stopped and said, "Now this one is pretty good," looking at the one realistic portrait I'd included, the one that was just an exact copy of a reference photo. No character, no imagination, no stylization at all.

My mom drove me back home and, very gently, suggested we try looking at other types of programs too.

And then, a few years later, the Great Recession happened, where I spent the better part of a decade underemployed, even with the Business Writing degree I eventually got. It's not a decision I regret, because that degree did eventually lead me to the job I have today - one in a field no artist aspires to, but one in a supportive environment that has kept me financially secure and physically safe in the shitshow that is this decade so far. That's nothing to dismiss.

And I know, even if I had pursued art professionally, no matter how much more refined my work would be, I probably still wouldn't be able to support myself on it. There are systemic barriers here that no amount of skill can overcome, which Rosalarian already described in much better detail than I could. The lucky few who still "make it" have an incredibly rare combination of talent, marketing prowess, and fortune that those of us just rediscovering a passion after a decade of neglect simply can't come by.

But it doesn't stop me from dreaming - and feeling crushed every time I fail to meet that impossible dream.

[theokotrain]

Vestige - Interlude: The Party

Wattpad Version

As the night fills the sky

All my fears are dissipating

'Cause I feel reassured

That I might make it through

And if all my luck should burn

Then I guess it burned for you

---

April 13th, 2012

I was sitting on my bed, back against the bed frame with my knees raised in front of me, holding up my laptop. I had been spending the last few hours writing an essay for my English class, specifically answering the topic question my teacher had given everybody: "How do our past experiences influence our decisions?". The question was simple enough, it's a pretty universally recognized idea that stuff that happens to us has an effect on our decision making. I mean, that's what it means to grow, right? You gain more knowledge as you live through life and form new memories, and that helps you make more informed decisions in the future.

I've never really been too good at writing anything analytical, especially non-fiction. Essays and research papers that required informed arguments that helped to prove your point? Those were an entirely unknown game to me, one which I had never managed to breeze through. Of course, we were supposed to use some of the books we've read this year as evidence for our arguments, so that at least made it a bit easier, even if most of the books were ones from nearly five decades ago and definitely out of touch at this point. The sound of my laptop's keys clicking as I typed away were the only sounds I could pick up in the room. I had my earphones in for a bit, but those always hurt my ears after a while, so I had taken them out.

Looking at the time in the corner of my laptop screen, it was 4:43 PM. I started writing as soon as I got home from class, so I've only been going for about an hour. Unfortunately, this essay is a non-insignificant amount of my course grade, so I needed to finish this as soon as possible.

God, it's a Friday! I could be out doing something actually fun with Shae and the other guys. Isn't that the whole point of high school? That's what it always seemed like in movies, at least, but I guess I've been a victim of false advertising.

After a bit more time passes, the sound of my phone ringing from my desk brings me out of my writing trance. I sigh, setting my laptop next to me on the bed, not wanting to get out of bed, but eventually forcing myself into maneuvering over to the desk, I grab the phone and flip it open, looking to see the Caller ID.

Shaela.

I instantly accept the call, it's almost second nature at this point. She calls me at least once a day so she can tell me about whatever person is pissing her off that day, or whatever drama she's heard from her other friends. I was never really one for gossip, or whatever, but I did appreciate talking to her.

I put the phone up to my ear, "What's up?" I say, a tinge of fatigue in my voice.

"Hey! Just warning you that I'm like five minutes from your place and you don't have a say in the matter." She replied bluntly. I can hear the sound of cars driving by on the other side of the phone, so she's obviously outside, confirming her words.

I take a deep breath before speaking, "...Why?" I said with exasperated sarcasm.

"Because! I have something to tell you, and if I say it over the phone then I seriously doubt it'll work out in the way I'm hoping it does."

"That clears up nothing, actually, and now I regret picking up."

"Even if you didn't answer, that doesn't stop your parents from letting their son's lovely goody-two-shoes of a friend stop by for a visit!" She exclaimed, a mischievous tone subtly layered in her voice.

She's not wrong.

"Wow, you make this sound like you're sneaking into a high-security building or something." I say, utterly confused at her motives. "Obviously you can come over, but I'm not exactly filled with confidence at whatever you're planning."

"Like I said, I can't tell you yet, but it's gonna be awesome!" She said. There was an unusual perkiness to her that made itself pretty clear over the phone.

Before I can say anything, I'm met with the dial tone, signalling that she had hung up. The only thing I can do at this point is wait for her to get here, I guess. She always lets herself in when she comes over, so I don't make the effort to meet her downstairs. A sudden ping sound fills the quiet room, seeming to come from my laptop. I get back into bed, looking to see where the notification came from.

It's a message from Tyler.

He's definitely the newest member of our little group, if even that. I'm the only person in the group that he's actually friends with so far, despite my efforts to bring him along on any plans we all make. I only met the Grey Wolf back in February, at the beginning of the second semester, in the school's photography class. Nobody I knew signed up for it, and due to our prestigious high school's advanced budget for technology, we were forced to be paired up for shared computer use in the Photography Room. I suppose Tyler was also fortunate enough to not know anybody in the class, as we ended up being paired together by the teacher. He was definitely someone I could only describe as uninterested, as the first week or two I spent with him in that class consisted of him either giving me one word answers or answering in the most blunt, bored tone he could manage. Though, it seemed that it took a bit of persistence on my part to push him to be more open, and since then he's grown to be a pretty great friend.

Tyler: u goin to that party tonight ive been hearin about?

Party? I wasn't made aware of anything like that, at least... not yet. Something in the back of my brain was telling me that Shae had ulterior motives about coming to my place so suddenly, but I'm still hoping that I'm wrong. I hate parties.

Jake: party? havent heard anything, are u going?

Tyler: thinkin about it

think its gonna be over at chris's place, guess his parents r gone for the weekend or somethin

Jake: chrisssss? ughh that guy is such an asshole

Tyler: yeah u dont havee to go, but itd prob be more fun to have someone u actually know there

The way he worded that was directed at me, but I could tell he didn't want to go on his own.

Jake: i guess ill think about it

Tyler: sickk, call me if u make up ur mind

Before I can type my farewells over IM, Shaela energetically bursts through the door.

"Jesus! You scared the shit outta me, don't you knock?" I said, mildly exasperated.

"Oh come on, I literally called you a few minutes ago, you had plenty of time to not make a situation where it'd be a bad idea for me to barge in," She replies, laughing, before setting her bag on the ground and dramatically falling into my bed. "Today was garbage."

"What happened?"

"Ugh, Claire decided to just not show up, I guess, on the day we're supposed to present that stupid History project? And, obviously, she didn't give me her part of the project or anything, so I had tell Mr Thomas about the situation, which was fucking embarrassing." She paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Luckily, he said he wouldn't reduce my grade for handing it in late, since I actually had my part finished. God, what a bitch- I must've called her like thirty times before class to get her to email me her part, and every time it went straight to voicemail - and she told me last night that she'd have it ready for today!"

"Have you gotten a hold of her yet?" I asked, closing my laptop and setting it beside me.

Shae turns her head to me, shaking her head, "Nope, she's been ghosting me all day."

"Sounds like typical Claire."

"Yeah, I shouldn't have partnered with her, but apparently I can't say no to anyone, so..." I chuckle lightly in response. "Anyways! I didn't just come here to complain to you!" She says, sitting up on the bed, now facing towards me.

"Right... So what was so important that you just had to tell me in person?" I say, sarcastically.

"Like I said, if I asked you over the phone you would've definitely said no, and my ability to pressure you into doing things isn't as effective unless it's in person!" She responded.

I subtly rolled my eyes, but it's clear she noticed from the stare-down she gave me, "Okay, so what is it?"

"Soooooo..." She says, trying to find the rest of the words, "There's a party."

Wow.

"Wh- did everybody know about that party except for me?!?" I exclaimed.

Shaela's face quickly turns to an expression of shock, "Who told you?"

"Tyler did, like, not even five minutes ago." I say, bluntly.

"What? How does he know Chris?"

"Friend-of-a-friend, I'm guessing?"

"Hmm..." She hummed, thinking about something, "So, did you tell him you were going?"

"I specifically said I'd think about it, nothing definite." I made it clear in my tone that I wasn't particularly interested.

"Oh, come on, dude! It'll be fun!"

I didn't really have an interest in going, but I know it'd make Shae happy, plus it'd be nice to hang out with Tyler again even if we've only known each other for a couple months.

"...Fine. But, if Chris or any of his buddies start shit, I'm leaving."

"Awesome!"

"Lemme just call Tyler and let him know," I said as I grabbed my phone and flipped it open, finding Tyler in my contact list and dialling.

"You gonna bring him with-" The phone rings a few times before he picks up and I extend my hand out towards Shae in a shushing motion. She rolls her eyes, smirking.

"Hey? So are ya gonna go?" He said eagerly.

"Well, Shae showed up at my door literally right after you messaged me, asking the same thing!" I exclaimed in a fake-preppy voice. "So, I guess I have no choice since she'll probably just drag me there if I say no," I joked. She nods her head toward me in response.

"Oh, is she going too?" He inquired.

"Yeah, I guess so! Your place is kinda on the way to Chris', so we could probably meet you at your place and go from there."

"Yeah! Sounds good!" He quickly responded.

I laughed, "Okay, we'll call you when we get there?"

"Sure thing!"

We exchanged our farewells, and hung up. The party wasn't for at least another hour or two, so Shae and I had some time to burn, of which I was entirely out of ideas. I figured I could at least spend this time actually being productive, so I grabbed my laptop and continued on writing my English essay as Shae resumed her previous conversation topic of stuff at school that was pissing her off. It was pretty entertaining, to be fair. She was telling me about how Chris had gotten in a fight with this other kid in our grade yesterday after class, which I wasn't lucky enough to witness, but it was obviously all anyone would talk about for basically the entire day today so word spread around fast. The part I hadn't heard about was that both Chris and the other guy, Nathan, got suspended for a week because of it. Chris was generally an asshole to everybody, including myself, so I didn't feel too bad about that. Although, I didn't know Nathan all that well. Other than having a few classes together, I don't think I've ever held an actual conversation with the guy. I think it was safe to assume that Chris was the one who started it, and Shae seemed to agree with me, even though she hadn't seen the fight either.

"But, apparently Nathan's gonna show up tonight!" She exclaimed coyly.

"...Remind me again why you want me to go to this specific party?"

"You'll have a great time! It's not like we'll be involved in the drama anyway so think of it more as entertainment!"

"I think you and I have different definitions of the word 'entertainment'," I joked.

"I'm sure you can go run off somewhere with Tyler if you're not having fun," She said, her tone reminding me of my mom.

"Oh yeah? What about you?"

"I can't just leave Alex at a party with Chris, those two start shit between each other so much and I'd rather not deal with the aftermath of that today."

"I'm guessing it's safe to assume that Elliot's going too, then?"

"He's not big on parties, but he'll usually go if everyone else is, unlike somebody," She says, gesturing towards me.

"Good one," I reply, unmoving as I keep typing away at my assignment.

"Well, we should probably leave soon since we're stopping at Tyler's place on the way.

I saved the document I had been working on, closing my laptop. "Sounds good to me!"

---

"I can't believe you actually agreed to go." Tyler joked as we walked towards the road from his house.

"Yeah, me either." I replied. I definitely didn't put in any effort in dressing up for the party, opting for a snug space-themed graphic tee, along with black jeans and a white zip-up hoodie. Shae and Tyler both stand on opposite sides of me as we walk down the sidewalk.

"Luckily I learned the subtle techniques in convincing you to do things against your better judgement, so now you get to have fun for once!" Shae exclaimed.

"It's not my fault that going to a party is literally the last thing on earth I'd do for fun in any normal situation." I retorted, putting my hands in the pockets of my jacket.

"Oh yeah? And what do you consider a 'normal situation'?" Shae asks.

"Any situation where you guys aren't the ones trying to get me to go! I'm only doing this for you two, y'know." I said, looking over at both of them.

"What about Elliot and Alex?" Tyler chimed in.

"They aren't the ones asking me to go to this party." I sarcastically remarked, trying to keep the conversation light-hearted. "Speaking of the party- this is Chris we're talking about, there's gonna be beer, right?"

"Uh, duh?" Shae replied.

"Yeah, that's a definite no for me, I'm already enough of a disappointment to my parents,"

"No one's making you drink, Jake. At least you'd be safe if some old hag called the cops about the noise." Shae said.

"I think at that point we're guilty by association, so we'd just make a run for it if that happens," Tyler joked.

"Dude, the chance of me outrunning a police officer successfully is about as likely as me not wanting to punch Chris tonight."

"And the chance of you winning that fight is just as low!" Shae retorted, Tyler laughing in response.

"I specifically said 'want' because of that very reason!"

"Wow, I'd pay money to see you fight that guy." Tyler said, nudging his elbow into my side.

It isn't a secret that I'm not exactly athletic. I mean, I'm definitely not weak, but fighting basically any animal of a similar size to mine was not a situation that favoured my victory.

"That sounds more like just getting the shit kicked outta me for your entertainment." I remarked, lightly punching Tyler's shoulder in return.

"Absolutely worth every penny!" Shae exclaimed. Luckily, the place wasn't any more than ten minutes away from Tyler's place, so I didn't have to endure listening to these two talk about me getting beat up for much longer.

We finally make it to Chris' house, and I'm suddenly filled with an impending sense of regret. Obviously, my parents would never in a million years agree to me going to a party like this. As far as they know, I'm just spending the evening hanging out with Shae at Tyler's house. So yeah, this entire night had a lot of potential for disaster.

Shae can clearly see my hesitation, because she grabs my hand, leading me up the walkway, Tyler following closely behind.

"I wonder if Elliot and Alex beat us here?" She says, knocking on the front door.

"I doubt they had anything to do earlier, hell they probably came straight here after school, knowing Alex." I said, laughing.

Our conversation is cut short by the opening door, revealing the familiar black cat.

"Oh, look, the Stephenson kid brought his girlfriend!" Chris exclaimed mockingly, looking back into the house, before peering around my shoulder, "And... Tyler?" He said, inquisitively.

I lean over, blocking Tyler from his line of sight, "Yeah, hey, not dating by the way!" I said. I've known Shae since I first moved to Vestige, around the time I turned five years old, so it wasn't uncommon for rumours to go around that we were dating. I've always thought of her more as a sister, if anything.

"I asked them to come!" Tyler said. That was only partly true, but according to Tyler, they've been 'somewhat-friends' for quite a while now, so saying that would at least mean less mild-harassment from Chris for tonight.

"Oh, uh, okay... come on in! But you're on the hook for any shit they pull, Tyler!" He said, opening the door wider.

---

The party had been going on for a few hours at this point. I could recognize most of the animals here from school, but not enough to actually hold a conversation with any of them, so most of my time here had just been spent with Shae and Tyler. The place hasn't been incredibly crowded luckily, but there were easily about forty others in this part of the house alone. I'm assuming only high school grades were invited, but there were a considerable number of students to meet that requirement. The issue at hand for me, other than how crowded this place is, is that both Shae and Tyler ditched me to go... somewhere? I think Shae saw some of her friends and went somewhere with them, but Tyler was pretty secretive about where he was going, only telling me that he'd be back in a bit. So I've been standing here in this random corner of the house with a drink in hand, trying to make myself look busy and not awkward, which is exactly why I didn't want to go to this party in the first place!

"Jake!" A voice shouted from a ways away.

I turn my head in confusion, revealing Alex, walking towards me from across the room.

"Oh, Alex! Hey! What's up dude!" I finish the last bit of my soda, waving at him. Because this was Chris' party, there was obviously beer too, but I didn't feel like coming home drunk and my parents finding out.

"I didn't think you'd wanna come to something like this! Feeling the regret yet?"

"I like parties! It's the times like these when I'm standing in a corner by myself with nothing to do that I hate, which seems to happen every time I go to a party!" I exclaimed, pausing for a moment. "Okay, maybe I do hate parties- I've had to explain this so many times today I'm about ready to jump into Lake Ambuscade."

' "Wow, sounds like somebody needs to socialize instead of stewing in a corner for the rest of the night!"

"Socialize? Really? I know just about everybody here and just about none of them are worth talking-"

"Hang with me and Elliot, then? Justin set up some racing games in the other room, we were gonna join, but we could use a fourth... You in?" He said, his tone obviously trying to sound coercing.

"God, please, anything to get me out of this corner for the next three hours." I said, Alex returning my words with a laugh.

"Well, come on then! We'll have to hurry if we want to get one of the good controllers!" He exclaimed, motioning to follow him.

As we move through the various cliques, I recognize a few faces here and there, though not enough to actually want to talk to them. There's been music playing since we got here, and I have yet to recognize a single song, they all seem to be some form of drone-y bass-heavy music that I can't say I've heard in any normal situations. I'm doing my best to follow Alex, although he keeps weaving between the other animals faster than I can keep up, resulting in me having to shove past everyone near me in an effort to speed myself up. Luckily, it seems that no one notices me anyway.

When we arrive in the other room, it seems to just be another living room, but decorated with a galore of punk band posters, shelves holding more DVD cases than I would ever care to count, and even a mini-fridge. Maybe Chris is the type to have a 'man cave' or something? Just hearing that phrase almost makes me want to vomit, but there aren't any more accurate words that come to mind. The room isn't massive or anything, but the TV resting upon the wall across the room seems to challenge that idea, looking almost eighty inches in size. Luckily no randoms from the party were in here, sitting about ten feet away from the TV is Elliot, leaning back in a purple bean bag chair that seems almost three times bigger than him, and Justin, the cougar I'd only known slightly through Alex, laying down sideways on the couch directly in front of the gigantic screen.

"Whatttt! You took the bean bag chair? Lameee..." Alex whined.

"You're the one who wanted to go get Jake, you snooze you lose!" Elliot retorted, looking oddly proud of himself.

"Damn, wish I had a room like this at my house..." I mumbled, looking around the room.

"Are we gonna play or what?" Justin said, cutting through the momentary silence.

"Duh!" Alex claimed.

Justin sits up, taking the spot on the couch closest to Elliot. I opt for the leftmost seat, and Alex sits in-between the both of us. Elliot grabs the other three controllers and tosses them over at us, one by one. Luckily, there weren't any garbage third-party controllers, so at least none of us would have to deal with that. I will admit, it did feel kinda weird going to someone's party just to play games away from everybody, but I would be lying if I said I didn't prefer that, even though I rarely play games, if ever.

After Justin turns the console on, he goes through the menus, launching the game. I can't say I recognize the title, but it seems to be a pretty standard racing game. He goes into the custom mode, opting for a four-player split-screen match, choosing 'R1' as the category of cars to race in. As everyone chooses their cars, I scroll through the list, not really knowing what to pick. I've never been good with car stuff, so I pick an 'Aston Martin Lola' just based on the number-rating system the game ranks the cars with.

"You guys ready?" Justin asks.

"Oh yeah, get ready to eat my dust you guys!" Elliot exclaims, challengingly.

"Oddly prideful words for someone about to lose!" Alex replies, laughing.

The countdown begins, as the cameras slowly show the view of each car as it moves to the rear. When it starts, I somehow manage the fuckup of spinning my tires out, leaving me a few seconds behind the others as the car swerves back and forth. I curse under my breath as I try to regain control of the car, and swiftly pick up speed. The track seems like nothing I haven't seen before, a typical professional track, with rows and rows of audience seating to the side. Unfortunately, I'm now in last place. The next few moments of the track are a few quick corners, allowing me the chance to catch up, at least a little.

Unexpectedly, the track turns off of the main road, going into a forested area. The road is considerably more narrow at this point, so it takes a conscious effort to not drive into the trees by the asphalt. It looks like the road stretches on forever, as I still can't make out any upcoming turns. I guess the car I chose for the race had a better top speed than Justin's, as I'm quickly catching up to him, moving into third place. I'm gripping my controller to an uncomfortable degree, but I can't seem to relax the tension as I try to make my way into second place. I don't think I can pick up any more speed in this car, so me moving up is reliant on the road staying straight for just a bit longer. After what feels like a lifetime, the front of my car finally starts making it past Elliot's, then the midsection, and finally, I'm in second. The sound of all four car engines is drowning out any remnants of the video game music, and I feel the sudden urge to curse out whoever turned the TV volume up this high. My eyes are focused entirely on Alex's car as I make my final push into first place. If I were actually driving this fast in the real world, I'd be scared out of my fucking mind. Out of nowhere, Alex, and the others, begins to slow down considerably.

Oh fuck.

It's at that point I notice that there is a sharp right turn rapidly approaching. I've been pushing the top-speed of this car since the beginning of this stretch of road, and now I'm going too quickly to stop in time. What's the button to use the handbrake, again? I figure that the only way for me to not fuck up this race for myself is to try to drift around the corner. Considering I've never played this game before, it's going to prove to be a challenge. But, it's either that, or just ending up in dead-last again.

I hold down the A button, and pull the joystick as far to the right as possible. Suddenly, all I can hear from the game is the loud skidding sounds of my tires against the asphalt. To my surprise, I cut the corner a bit early, now going over the grass. I try to do a bit of directional-corrections and start heading back onto the track. Going over the grass definitely slowed me down a fair bit, but it definitely was a significantly better outcome over just crashing into the wall. And, to my surprise, the corner of my screen reads... first?!?

"How the fuck...?" Alex questions, seemingly in disbelief.

"I wish I could tell you." I replied, eyes wide at whatever the fuck just happened.

The distance I managed to gain on Alex isn't by a whole lot, but there's only about a quarter of the track left before we reach the finish line, so I have a chance at winning this. The track hurriedly changes from the forest as it reenters the main track. The long, straight roads seem to end as the road becomes a slow series of sharp turns, never giving me the opportunity to get back up to speed. It seems like the high top speed was my only advantage, because at every corner we take, I turn my camera around, revealing the other cars inching closer and closer to me.

I can see the finish line on the mini-map, just a few more turns away. I know that I'm not gonna be able to distance myself from Alex and the others at this point, so my only feasible strategy is to keep moving, cutting the corners as fast as I can, and getting to the finish line before they can pass me. Unfortunately, Alex's car seems to be getting too close for comfort now, meaning I might have to take some risks to ensure I can stay in first. As we approach the final turn, leading into the finish line, I realise I'm gonna have to try to drift this corner. I can feel my pointer finger practically cracking the plastic on the controller from the amount of pressure I'm putting on the right trigger. In a final plea to win, I push down on the A button, pulling the handbrake. The car starts to smoothly skid around the corner. Luckily, there are barriers on the sides of the road this time, preventing me from sliding onto the grass. To my surprise, the drift seems to work better than expected. That is, until, like the fucking idiot I am, make a slight overcorrection towards the left barriers as I exit the drift. I managed to avoid driving directly into the wall, but it did slow me down a bit.

Alex is immediately behind me, and I put all of my strength into accelerating towards the finish line. I'd be fucked if I broke the controller, cause I can't really afford the fifty dollars to buy a new one, but winning this race is more important to me at the moment. The finish line is only about five-hundred metres away, and Alex is slowly beginning to pass. All I can do at this point is push the gas as much as I can, and pray that I can cross the finish line before he can get back into first place. The finish line gets closer and closer, and it seems like it's gonna be too close for me to accurately tell the winner. I can feel my heart pounding in my chest from how stressful this fucking game has been, and now, we're about to find out whose efforts paid off. As each car makes its way over the finish line, each of our dedicated sections of the screen turns to slow motion. When it's finally over, the text fades in on each screen, revealing our place...

...

...

...Second?!?

"FUCK!" I shouted, realising I had been holding my breath since the final stretch of the race.

"HA! Dude, you suck!" Alex exclaimed, playfully shoving me.

"I think that was the most effort I've put into anything in my life." I said, setting my controller on the coffee table in front of me.

"Wow, that's dramatic," Justin remarked.

"Yeah, that's the usual for Jake," Elliot replied, laughing.

"You probably woulda won if you picked a better car, dude. That track was way too close-quarters so you should've gone with a car with better acceleration." Alex said.

"Wha- do you own this game?" I questioned, looking accusatory.

"...Yeah? It came out a few months ago, pretty popular right now." He replied.

"Ugh, this is what I get for playing with a bunch of gamers." I exclaimed, applying a disgusted tone to the last word.

"Not my fault you only play like one game a month!" Alex joked.

"Even then, I was like this close to beating you anyway!" I said, gesturing a minuscule distance between my thumb and pointer finger.

A voice interrupts our argument, coming from right outside the room, "Uh huh...

...

Really? That's bullshit! Come on...

...

Dude, give me a couple of days, I'll make it right!

...

Yeah, I swear."

It seems that we all stopped talking to listen in at the same time. "That sounds like Tyler... who's he arguing with?" Elliot asked. I can't make out the voice of whoever he's talking to, it just sounds like mumbling.

They seem to pause for a moment, and the sound of a single set of footsteps can be heard.

"Fuck..." Tyler says to himself, still out of view.

"...I should probably see what's up, you guys can keep playing without me." I say, getting up from my spot on the couch.

"Yeah, you do that! Less competition for me," Alex exclaims, laughing to himself.

"Hey, I can still beat your ass at this game, I know exactly which car to pick this time!" Elliot argued.

"Yeah, right! Guess we'll find out!"

I leave as the three start up another game, kind of glad I don't have to have another near-heart attack from playing again. When I get back into the dimly-lit hallway, Tyler is nowhere to be seen.

I look around, heading into the main room of the house to see if I can spot him. It's pretty difficult to see anything, because of how dim it is here, plus the sheer amount of animals crowding up the place. Despite that, I manage to spot the Grey Wolf a ways away, hurrying quickly into the bathroom.

As I shove my way through a few groups of teens, I almost fall over a few times, gaining confused stares from a few in the room. I lightly knock on the bathroom door, waiting for a response, "Hey, you okay Tyler?" After a few moments, I'm returned with no answer, "...Tyler-" Before I can finish my sentence, Tyler swiftly pulls open the bathroom door, pulling me in and shutting the door behind me, before sitting down on the side of the bathtub. As I'm about to say something, I hear the sound of him sniffling.

...Is he crying?

He's looking towards the floor, so I can't confirm it visually, but the sound definitely gives it away.

"Whoa, what's wrong? Did something happen?" I asked worriedly, not yet choosing to bring up the argument we overheard.

There's a few seconds of silence as he tries to bring himself together, not very successfully. "I- I... I don't- I don't think I can-"

"It's fine, you don't have to tell me if you don't want to," I tried to reassure him. He raises his head for a moment to look at me, trying to find words to say, instead opting to go back to crying, head in his hands. I've never been good with situations like this, so I sit down next to him, putting my hand on his upper back, softly patting.

"I'm sorry- I'm a fucking idiot. I shouldn't have asked you to come."

"Hey! I've been having fun! Don't worry about me, it seems like you're the one who shouldn't have come." I joke, in some effort to lighten the mood.

Shit, was that inconsiderate of me to say?

To my surprise, he manages to let out a light laugh, "Yeah, I'm starting to realise that."

"...Do you wanna leave, then? They know I didn't want to go here in the first place, so you could just say you're being nice and walking me home." I didn't know if he would actually take up that offer, but I know some guys have a weird thing about not wanting to seem 'uncool' and leaving a party early was definitely considered that.

He thinks for a moment, still sniffling pretty noticeably. "...okay, just- give me a minute, I don't want to go out there looking like this." He mumbles, looking towards the door.

"Yeah, that's fine." I said, continuing to rub around his neck area.

This definitely wasn't how I expected the night to go. But it was a sort of 'two-birds-with-one-stone' kind of situation. I get to help out Tyler, which is usually the other way around, I get to leave early, and hopefully Shae stops bugging me about going to parties, at least for a while.

Now that I think about it, that analogy is pretty messed up.

A few silent minutes go by as I sit next to the still-crying Tyler, waiting for him to recollect himself. Even though he hasn't actually said anything here, in the two months I've known him, this is probably the most vulnerable I've ever seen him. When I first met him, it was pretty accurate to describe him as the kind of guy who acts like he never feels emotion. Hell, even I refuse to be open about my feelings, but most of my friends see through that nowadays. Even now, I don't really understand why I do that. I guess it's just easier to not talk about shit like that? Is that why Tyler does it?

"I think I'm good now," He said, shaking his hands as he stood up.

"Okay, let's get out of this dumpster fire." I sarcastically remarked. Tyler shot me a confused look in return. "Whatever, let's just go."

I open the bathroom door, grabbing his arm as I lead him out into the main room. Almost immediately the voice of a certain black cat perks up behind us.

"Oh? And what did you two get up to in there?" Chris remarked, laughing, "I didn't know you guys were THAT kind of friends!"

God damnit. This stupid fucking feline.

"Yeah, it's too loud out here for me, I needed a break, he came with." I explained, Tyler standing closely behind me with a confused look on his face. Just roll with it, dude, I think to myself, knowing I probably shouldn't say that out loud.

"You know, I would believe that, but normal guys actually just go outside when they need a break." He replied.

"Well, hey! That's where we're going right now, so it all checks out!" I say in the bitchiest voice I can muster.

"Heh, sure thing, Jake." He said, sounding weirdly satisfied with himself. I didn't want to spend any more time in this fucking house than I needed to, especially while talking to Chris, so I continue on, pulling Tyler by the hand towards the exit. After a few moments, we make it to the front door. I promptly open it and we both head outside.

We're immediately greeted by the light of the moon and the starry sky as we head down the walkway toward the street. One of the few benefits of living in such a backwater town was the absence of any significant light pollution. I've been to Portland a few times for school field trips and such, and seeing the sheer difference in visible stars was absolutely staggering. I could only imagine what it would be like to go stargazing in the middle of nowhere.

"At least it's a nice night out." I said.

"Yeah..." Tyler replied, his mind clearly in a completely different place.

"I should probably tell Shae where we went, so she doesn't freak out trying to find us back there." I joked, pulling out my cell phone. Texting on my flip phone was an arduous task, but I didn't want to call her, so I had not much of a choice.

I send the text, and close my phone, returning it to my pocket. As we walk down the road, we stew in the silence, the only auditory sounds coming from the party still close by, and the local crickets chirping.

I won't lie, as much as I usually appreciate quiet, this is the loudest silence I've ever been stuck in. It goes on for more than five minutes. I could tell he wanted to say something, and I was eager to find out whatever was going on that started this in the first place. But, like the coward I am, I try to lighten the mood.

"Hopefully that satisfied your quota of me going to parties with you for a while, cause I do not plan on having the energy for something like that again for at least a few months." I said, awkwardly laughing. He doesn't respond, at least for a while, as he raises his hand, scratching the back of his neck nervously. "...Uhh, are you sure you don't wanna talk about it? I mean-"

"Can I tell you something?" He interrupted, his voice still cracking like it was in the bathroom.

"...Sure?" I replied, slightly confused.

"It's just that- I don't really know- like what-"

"-to say? Just think for a minute. No rush." That's what my dad always says whenever my mind spirals. I used to be really anxious, although I've been getting better at controlling my thoughts in the past few years.

When I went to text Shae a few minutes ago, my phone's clock read 9:48 PM. I'm supposed to be home at ten and we're still at least twenty minutes away, not even including the detour we'll take to get to Tyler's place. Which brings me to the realisation that, when we get to his house, I'm gonna have to walk the rest of the way home by myself, in the dark. If I get murdered by some serial killer this late at night I'm gonna fucking haunt Shae from the afterlife-

"I think I'm gay," He quickly says, his voice holding a noticeable increase in energy compared to what I've been used to tonight.

Well... can't say that's exactly what I was expecting. Was I expecting anything in particular? I honestly don't know anymore. His words took me by surprise, my brain is kind of scrambled right now. I look over at him - he's looking back at me, probably trying to gauge my reaction. I did my best to conceal any facial reaction, but it's pretty clear that my lack of a response is starting to become noticeable.

"...You... think?"

"Well, like- I don't know. I guess I've just been thinking for a while, and it makes sense... all things considered." He replied anxiously.

"That- That's great! Does anyone else know?"

"I only really realised a few weeks ago, so... no. But compared to anyone else, I probably trust you the most to not like- tell anyone?" He said, looking over at me again.

"Well, I appreciate the completely undeserved confidence you have in me," I joked, realising too late that now probably isn't the time for that, "Yeah, I promise I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you," He replies, a genuine smile strewn across his face.

A few minutes go by as we walk down the road, absorbing the positive energy we created. Having only known Tyler for a little over two months, it definitely surprised me knowing that he trusted me more than anyone else to keep a secret like that... I mean, despite the short amount of time since I met him, I'm as close to him as I've been to Shaela for the past eight years. Maybe even closer? I barely even tell Shae about my actual problems, at least the non-surface level stuff. So yeah, I guess it makes sense that he would trust me with something so important, I know I would absolutely trust him if it were me in that situation.

"...So, do you think you're gonna tell your dad?"

He didn't say anything for a moment as he stared down at the ground beneath him, "I'll probably have to tell him soon, if he has to find out from some asshole that isn't me it'd make it ten times more difficult than if I just said it myself."

I agreed, and we let the conversation cut itself off as we finally approached Tyler's house. I followed him up the walkway and stood on the patio, making sure he actually got inside. He tries the doorknob eagerly, to no avail. Realising that it was locked, he reaches into his pocket for his key - again, to no avail.

"You've gotta be fucking kidding me," Tyler mumbled under his breath, clearly done with tonight. All of the lights were off in the house, signalling that his dad was not awake.

"Maybe you'll wake him up if you knock? Then he can let you in."

"Nonono, he thinks I'm staying at your place! If he finds out I went to a party I'm in deep shit," He whispered.

Of course. If I had to lie to my parents, why would I expect anything different from anyone else?

"Okay, uhh... maybe we can make that lie... not a lie?" I said, sounding weirder than I'd like.

Tyler looked at me, confused for a moment, eyes widening as he realised what I meant, "I can't let you do that, I've already forced you through too much shit tonight."

"Oh, come on, of course you can sleep at my place for the night! My parents think I'm at your house right now, so I can just tell them that we both went over there early in the morning. They love you anyway, so it won't be a problem!"

He didn't move at all, still looking reluctant, "Are you sure it won't be... weird? I don't want to put you in an awkward situation cause of w- what I told you."

"Dude, that couch in my room has a hide-a-bed if you don't want to share mine. Either way, we're friends, aren't we? I trust you."

After a few moments of silence, he speaks up, "...I guess so-"

"Great, then it's settled!" I said, putting my arm around his shoulder as I led him back down the walkway.

---

Once we make it to my place, walk up the creaky wooden steps of my patio as I fish the house key out of my pocket. Tyler's standing closely behind me, looking awkward as ever, clearly not knowing what to do with his hands as he switches between putting them in his pockets and clasping them together.

I turn the key on the lock and try the door, noticing that It's completely pitch black inside the house. My parents usually go to bed at 10 PM, and it was well past that at this point. I lock the door behind us as I reach for my pocket, grabbing my phone and flipping it open to use as a barely-useful flashlight. I take Tyler's wrist as I lead him through the furniture of my living room and up the stairs. The only sounds in the house come from the soft ticking of a clock in the kitchen, the sound of which has always freaked me out whenever I'd come downstairs at three in the morning. Despite my best efforts to be as quiet as possible, the old wooden boards of the stairs prove my effort to be futile as they creak with every step. I can only hope that both of my parents have fallen asleep by now, or else they'd definitely have heard us. As I take Tyler down the hallway, walls strung with various family photos and art fit for a motel, I hear no sounds coming from the master bedroom, relaxing some of my tension.

Once we make it to my room, I breathe a sigh of relief as I turn on the overhead light, hoping my mom doesn't find out and try to lecture me in the morning, "Okay, hide-a-bed or mine, your choice!"

"Hide-a-bed." He replies.

"Sure thing, lemme show you how to set it up," I say as I remove each couch cushion one by one. The couch is sitting directly under my massive bedroom window, illuminated by the glow of the moon. Under the cushions is a black folded-up contraption, bearing a metal handle. I grab the handle and start pulling the bed out from the couch. As the first section of the bed comes out, Tyler stands next to me and helps unfold the second section, and finally the third.

I move over to open the closet door, "I have some spare pillows and blankets in here."

"So, why do you have a spare bed... thingy... in your room anyway?" He asked.

"My cousins' family came to visit from the other side of the country a few years back, so my parents made the cousins stay in my room and gave me our old couch that used to be in the living room. They were here for like two weeks, it was fucking awful," I remarked, pulling a comforter out of the closet and unfolding it out on the mattress.

"That sounds miserable," Tyler sympathized.

"It was, but hey, now I got a sick as fuck couch in my room! And it works as a great place for certain friends to sleep when they wanna spend the night," I said sarcastically, looking over at Tyler as I grabbed the pillows from the closet, tossing them to one end of the bed.

He turned his head, baffled, "Was that a dig on me?" He questioned.

"Depends on how you took it I suppose," I replied, smiling cunningly.

"You're the one who offered, dude- are you sure you didn't drink at the party? You've at least doubled your usual level of sarcasm." He retorted.

"Nope, unless somebody spiked my soda!" I joked, but the realisation slowly set in, "Oh shit- maybe someone spiked my soda?!?"

"Don't freak out, I seriously doubt someone would spike your drink,"

"God, I hope so, if my parents found out I went to that party, that'd be one thing, but if I got drunk? I doubt I'd see the outside world for months," I sighed.

"Even if you were drunk, it's not like you would still be drunk in the morning for them to find out, anyway."

"Yeah, I guess you're right," I said, letting out a yawn shortly thereafter. "Fuck, I didn't realise how tired I am." Looking at my alarm clock, it was 10:37 PM. That wasn't terribly late, I've definitely stayed up later when there was an assignment due the next day that I forgot about, but even before I met up with Alex and Elliot, that party was just wearing me down. "At least I can sleep in 'till like noon tomorrow. You sure you don't need anything before I pass out from exhaustion?"

"No, I'm okay, I think. And, thank you... Jake." He replied, smiling at me.

"No problem, dude!" I quietly exclaimed as I turned off the bedroom lights and hopped into bed. I can practically feel my muscles dissolve as I lean into the mattress, pulling the heavy blankets over me as I close my eyes.

I can't help but feel something itching in the back of my brain. I never did find out why Tyler was even crying back at the party. Was it related to what he told me after? He sounded pretty upset when he was talking to whoever it was in the hallway, too, so maybe that was why? We've already talked about so much shit tonight, though, and I definitely did not have the energy to have another huge conversation about something like that. It could definitely wait until tomorrow.

Soon, I feel my consciousness drift away, the only sound I can make out being the slow breathing of Tyler, across the room.

---

As I wake up, I'm blinded by the bright sun shining in through my windows, directly into my eyes. I glance over at my alarm clock, feeling incredibly groggy and sore, noticing that it's 11:13 AM. Usually, the latest I'd sleep in on weekends was only around ten, but I guess it took a lot of my energy yesterday to try to tune the party out. At least it's over.

I slowly sit up, yawning as I lean back against the bed frame. I glanced around the room, noticing that the hide-a-bed had been folded back into the couch, Tyler nowhere to be seen. I reach over to my bedside table to check my phone, finding an unread text from him, sent a few hours ago.

Tyler: hey

woke up early, figured youd want 2 sleep in.

will call u later, might have somthin big i wanna share, will see

A pair of oddly cryptic messages. Guess that confirms he isn't here anymore.

At least it was a Saturday, meaning that I had full permission to be a slob. I get out of bed, deciding to skip my usual shower until after breakfast. Other than the snacks that were out at the party, I ate practically nothing last night. I could almost feel my stomach turning itself inside out, so I hurried out of my room and downstairs to the kitchen to have some breakfast.

The first thing I notice when I get downstairs is my mom, sitting on the couch with a book. I head straight to the kitchen, trying not to make myself stand out.

"Jake! Finally woken up, I see." She remarked, still looking at her book.

"Hey, mom!" There's a moment of silence as I grab a bowl out of the cupboard, as well as a box of cereal, and begin to pour.

She speaks up, "Your friend, Tyler, seemed to be in a hurry to leave this morning, anything I should know about?"

"...Not that I know of? Like what?" I questioned as I poured some milk from the fridge, grabbed a spoon, and sat at the kitchen counter.

"Well, it's not like we didn't notice that you weren't home by ten like your father asked you to be, so obviously you must have a good excuse for why you didn't at least call to let us know you'd be late?" She replied. I could tell when she started talking all responsible-parent-like, it meant that she was gonna lecture me about something.

I sighed, thinking of the right thing to say. "...Well, Tyler was going through some things... so I was trying to help him with that, I guess. Time just kinda flew by and I wasn't able to get home 'till later."

"So he spent the night here? Weren't you at his house?" She asked as I ate a spoonful of cereal.

"Yeah... we went out for a bit and once I noticed how late it was I offered to let him spend the night at our house since it was closer," I said. Almost entirely a lie, but definitely preferable to the truth.

"Jake..." She said, setting her book down on the coffee table in front of the couch, walking over to me, and resting a hand on my shoulder. "You're sixteen now, obviously we don't expect you to tell us everything you're up to nowadays. But we worry about you! I worry about you. Just for future reference, please let us know if you're gonna be home late or anything like that."

"Okay, I'll keep that in mind," I said, looking up at her.

"Great! Now, I have to go meet a friend for lunch, please try not to burn the house down while I'm out!" She said as she grabbed her purse and keys off of the counter, hurring out the door.

"No promises, love you!" I said as she closed the door behind her.

Well, I guess that went... better than expected? I doubt she believed that story I made up, but I guess as long as I don't break curfew without telling them, I should be fine.

Having the house to myself wasn't totally uncommon. Considering my dad was gone during the day five days a week, and my mom would head out to go meet friends or run errands pretty often, I got some much needed alone time often enough to not go mad.

As I finish my bowl of cereal, I realise that I probably should go shower as soon as possible, considering the night I had. I put my bowl and spoon in the dishwasher and head back upstairs. I grab a towel from my room and head into the bathroom, grabbing my various fur care products out of the cabinet for after the shower. As I turn the shower on, I hear the sound of my ringtone going off in the pocket of my pants on the floor. I sigh annoyedly, walking over and trying to figure out which pocket my phone was in. When I flip open the phone, the Caller ID reads out Tyler's name.

"Tyler! What's up?" I ask eagerly, hoping to find out what the news he cryptically texted about was.

"Jake- fuck, I messed up, I shouldn't have- what am I gonna do?" He said anxiously, sounding almost out of breath.

"Hey! Slow down, what's wrong?" I questioned.

"I'm such a fucking idiot! Why did I think this would be a good idea? Jake, I'm so sorry-"

"Tyler! Calm. Down. Just take a few deep breaths," I said. After a few moments, I can hear his breathing steadying on the other side of the call. "Okay, good. Now, what's wrong?"

There's a short pause as he tries to find the right words to say. It sounds like he's been crying. What even the fuck has been the past twenty-four hours?

"Can- do you think I could crash at y- your place for a few more nights? I don't know what to do."