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tl-notes · 3 years

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Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 10 Notes

I’m extremely not an expert in birds, but I tried to look these up to see if they were a species native to New York (since they’re similar to the sparrows we usually see around Kobayashi’s place). Apparently there are few similar-looking species in New York? My totally uninformed guess is that they may be house sparrows.

The sun sets in Japan relatively early (probably around 6:30pm when this episode takes place), which would make it entirely plausible that if she just flew east (with a slight northward angle) she’d find herself over New York in the early morning while most of the rest of the country is still dark.

These bumpy grey pads at the pedestrian part of the intersection here are known as (among other things) tactile paving; they’re to assist people who can’t fully rely on eyesight to get around.

Interestingly (imo), they were actually invented in Japan in the 60s (by a Miyake Seiichi), where today they’re extremely ubiquitous. They even show up later this episode!

They’re often referred to in Japan as 点字ブロック, tenji (Braille) blocks, and they tend to come in two types: the “dot” design, which indicates a place to stop (or an angle change, or more generally “caution”), and the “line” design which indicates you can safely keep going. They’re generally colored yellow in Japan, ideally making them stand out more to help people with impaired vision find them, and are mandated by law in most places public transport can be found (among others).

Not really a translation note, but “deer cola” felt especially funny in the context of all the horse medicine stuff.

I guess “[animal] [drink]” is a common branding device in-universe, given the crab beer Kobayashi’s always drinking.

Also not really a translation note, but the difference between how “hard” Kanna and Chloe are running to be at the same speed was a nice animation touch.

遊んだ遊んだ！ asonda asonda!

One feature of the Japanese language is a very heavy use of repetition. This includes “reduplication,” a linguistic term for creating words by repeating a root (e.g. a “boo-boo” in English or the dara-dara example below in Japanese), but also just like… saying the same word multiple times, as Chloe does here.

Typically this is done for emphasis or to help increase clarity: if you’ve worked in a Japanese office, you’ve likely heard someone in a phone conversation say desu desu in response to someone asking for confirmation.

This acceptance of repetition sort of extends beyond the obvious uses like this as well: for example, personal pronouns are much less common; instead (if the subject isn’t dropped) you’ll often just use the person’s name again. You’ll notice similar trends with other types of words as well.

Not to mention the ubiquity of things like otsukare.

This often ends up being a challenge for translators, because reusing words in English (when it’s not for an obvious reason) tends to stick out rather unflatteringly, even if they aren’t that close together.

(Like when I overuse “hence” in these notes.)

This “Christ” in the Japanese was “ったく” (short for 全く mattaku, but just used as a semi-generic exclamation). I mostly bring this up because it’s a good example of a word that doesn’t work out of its cultural context; e.g. it wouldn’t make any sense for a fantasy character to say “Christ,” but since this is an American speaker it works just fine (and helps distinguish that fact, even).

I think I’ve mentioned this before, but English uses a lot of “explicit reference” words like this, that can break immersion if put in the mouths of characters who wouldn’t have exposure to said reference—which can be annoyingly limiting when trying to write dialogue sometimes.

As a bit of a culture shock for a lot of Americans I’ve met, most Japanese homes tend to have wall mounted air conditioning units, like this one, that are only for heating/cooling the one room they’re in. (Many also have a “Dry” setting that makes them act kind of like a dehumidifier as well.) It’s common to not have them in every room, like bedrooms, however.

This is in contrast to the central air conditioning system used by a majority of homes in the US (though type/use of AC in the US varies a lot by region; less common in the north for example)—and places like the UK where apparently residential AC units of any kind are quite rare.

You may have noticed that the doors between rooms always seem closed in Kobayashi’s apartment. That’s not just to make the backgrounds simpler, it’s also a good habit to keep if you’re going to be running the AC!

“Kobayashi, are you お休み today?”

“Yeah, お休み.”

お休み o-yasumi, is a noun form of the 休む yasumu, to rest. The word has a variety of applications, as we see here. A day off work/school, i.e. a rest day? お休み. Want to say “good night” to someone before bed? Also お休み.

In this case, it’s not even necessarily clear it’s being said as a pun; as mentioned earlier, repetition is a common feature of the language, so despite the yawn there wouldn’t really be any reason for Kanna to think Kobayashi was about to go to nap or anything.

“Laze about” here is だらだら dara-dara, another phenomime (擬態語 gitaigo in Japanese)—one of those words that mimics the “sound” of an idea/concept/state, which don’t actually make a sound per se.

These phrases aren’t necessarily childish or anything (overuse of them can be, but you can find them even in news articles and political speeches for example). They are, however, used frequently by children, and by adults talking to children, as they’re very “easy” words: they’re expressive, they capture useful daily-life concepts, and they usually roll off the tongue. You’ll notice, for example, that Kanna uses them a lot.

Kanna has a very interesting way of talking actually, which I’ll touch on a bit more later.

Kobayashi’s “bean jam” here is あんみつ anmitsu, a traditional Japanese dessert (technically a spinoff of mitsumame). It typically is a mix of red beans (and/or red peas), agar (an algae-based gelatin equivalent), some fruit, some variety of rice flour product (shiratama in this case, similar to mochi), and a syrup (often black sugar based).

You can find it year-round, but it has a strong summer association and is even used as a summer season word. (It’s typically chilled and you can often get it with ice cream as an ingredient.)

It’s also sometimes paired with a green-tea flavored something as well (e.g. ice cream, agar, or syrup). The trinity of green tea, red beans (aka azuki), and shiratama makes what I like to think of as the “Japanese S’mores Flavor (for Adults)”. No I will not elaborate on this.

I will though point out the shaved ice flavor Kobayashi ordered later in the episode:

え？今スイカ様子あった？

A word of note here for language learners is 様子 yousu, which has a lot of definitions, but in cases like this where it’s attached to a noun or phrase means roughly “the appearance of __” or “an indication of ___” etc. In actual use, it typically means something that makes you think of whatever ___ is—or the lack of something that would make you think ___.

For example here, it’s like “Watermelon? Where’d that come from?” (since the TV was talking about a different dessert-y food entirely).

Or an unrelated example: “I think that guy is hiding something” → “Really? I haven’t seen any yousu of that.” In other words, it can be a lot like “sign,” as in “I’ve seen no sign of ___.”

These color-bordered envelopes (originally colored based on the flag of the country of origin) used to be the standard for air mail, domestic or international, though they haven’t been required for several decades.

That said, they’re still popular for that “ooh, international mail!” feel (at least in Japan) and you can buy them at most places that sell stuff like envelopes. As here, they’re often used in media to immediately convey that a letter came from outside Japan.

Kanna (and Kobayashi) says エアメール, lit. “air mail” in English, which is used colloquially for international mail specifically, rather than “mail sent by plane.”

They’re having what’s called 冷やしそうめん hiyashi soumen, chilled/cold soumen for lunch here. (Soumen being a thin wheat noodle; udon but thinner.) As Kanna says, it’s very easy to make!

Basically you just boil it, wash it in cold water, add ice, get some sort of sauce to dip it in, and you’re done! It’s a popular quick meal in summer, and much easier than the more involved nagashi soumen setups you may have seen elsewhere, where they slide the noodles down a chute for you to try to grab and eat. (It’s basically the same meal aside from that though.)

(You can of course add more to it, but as we see here, you don’t really have to.)

The type of tea here, for the curious, is 麦茶 mugicha, barley tea. Mugi is the general name for cereals/grains including wheat (komugi), barley (oomugi), rye (kuromugi or rye mugi), and oats (enbaku or oat mugi). It’s incredibly common in Japan (and much of East Asia), where it's the household summer drink.

It has no caffeine like many other teas, and has a bunch of various nutritional benefits, so it’s considered a good way to stay hydrated as you’re sweating buckets in the muggy Japanese summer weather.

帽子した？ boushi shita? した！ shita!

I thought this was a cute way of phrasing this question/answer, and a good example of the “parent and their young child” way these two talk.

The suru (past tense shita) verb used here is the ultimate in “generic verb,” and it basically doesn’t get any simpler grammar-wise to phrase something as “noun+suru” like Kobayashi does here (even the particles are dropped).

Kanna, for her part, doesn’t respond with a “yes” or etc, but instead just repeats back the verb itself in confirmation.

Just to note another one of those words like dara-dara: bura-bura, used for things like wandering around, doing something (or nothing) casually/aimlessly, or (with one bura) for something dangling/swinging in a more literal sense, like a spider, slack yo-yo, or wind chime.

These booklets are a common homework assignment for practicing kanji; you can see along the left side there it shows the stroke order, with the first block giving an example to trace over & showing where to start each stroke.

Each character is made up of radicals (e.g. “hot” above: 日 and 耂), which each have a standard way to write them. There’s 214 such radicals (though many are pretty niche; only about ~50 of them are needed to make most characters), and once you get a hang of them it makes learning new characters much easier (not too different from learning word spellings in English imo).

Kanna is repeating out loud the reading for the “hot” character as she writes it.

In addition to the above workbooks (which usually involve both kanji and math problems at Kanna’s grade), elementary school summer homework in Japan typically involves doing an illustrated diary (not a daily one necessarily) and some sort of research project about a subject of your choice. (Think kind of like a small science fair project).

The “research” project part is pretty expansive, and you can typically even do something more arts & craftsy for it.

Manhole covers in a lot of Japanese municipalities feature art representative of the area. For example, the city of Chofu, where the author of GeGeGe no Kitaro lived most of his life, has several with art of that series.

(Photo from https://www.gotokyo.org/jp/spot/1734/index.html)

I mentioned earlier that Kanna has an interesting way of speaking. Probably a better way to put it is that she has a pretty convincingly childish way of speaking (despite the monotone). That is, she uses simple grammar and “easy” words most of the time, but then throws out random big words and fancy idioms from time to time that make you go “...where did you learn that?”

In this case, the phrase she uses is 巷で人気 chimata de ninki. Chimata originally means like a fork (in the road), and since those are often places with lots of people passing through, it expanded to mean “the undefined place where people talk about ~stuff~.” So it’s used for “many people are saying~” or “word on the street is~” types of situations (or “talk of the town,” as here).

It’s kind of an “adult” word though; for example the character for it isn’t included in the jouyou kanji (the 2000+ that are taught in elementary through high school). Hence Kobayashi’s reaction here.

The word she uses for “protected” here is 死守 shishu. The word is the combination of the characters for “death” and “protect,” ~meaning to protect something even at risk to one’s life (to the death, as it were).

It's a word that you learn in third grade in the Japanese education system—the same grade Kanna is in!

Both of these types of signs are common sights in residential areas like this: depending on where you live, it can feel like there’s always some sort of construction project going on, and Japan’s many family/individually-owned businesses like this tend to be closed on various extra days during the summer (and certain other times) to allow for time off.

In this case, them being closed August 12th~16th implies they’re taking off for Obon (and probably leaving town to visit family).

The word Kobayashi uses here is 風物詩 fuubutsu-shi. Fuubutsu refers to something that makes up part of the “scenery” of a place or season, in a pretty broad sense. This shi typically means “poem.”

So fuubutsu-shi is originally a type of poem celebrating a season or a scene of natural beauty, that sort of thing. From that, it’s also now (more popularly) used to describe things that are representative of a season; the kind of stuff you say “it’s not winter until…” about, or “you know it’s summer when…” (It can also be used for places + seasons, like the ice sculptures of Hokkaido winters, or even summer Comiket in Tokyo.)

They’re very similar to the season words I’ve mentioned previously, though they’re far less strict about what counts as one. Here, Kobayashi’s could be referring to the whole package experience of “having to take cover and wait out a sudden heavy rain, despite it being mostly clear skies a few minutes ago,” which you could call fuubutsu-shi (summed up probably as like 夏の雨宿り etc.)

In contrast the relevant season word here would probably be yuudachi (or niwaka-ame), a word referring to the short, sudden bouts of rain that tend to fall (from cumulonimbus clouds, the makings of which are noticeable in the backgrounds before this) on summer evenings.

Feels like in season one she woulda eaten it. Three cheers for character growth!

The parentheticals there are just the “English” in hiragana/katakana.

Kobayashi’s comment (nihongo de ok, roughly “you can just use Japanese”) is an internet-born term people originally would use to reply to someone who said something that didn’t make any sense, had terrible grammar, or was so full of katakana loanwords it was hard to read etc.

Kanna says this line in English, and while I have no proof at all, my guess is that the specific choice of “wicked” was taken from the translation of “maji yabakune?” used in season one.

#maidragon #Miss Kobayashi's Dragon Maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #translation notes #anime

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crispyjenkins · 4 years

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Chosen-One!Obi-Wan x Jango where Jaster finds Obi-Wan after he’s lost(somehow lmfao,, idk maybe connecting ships like a connecting flight?) on his was to bandomeer and adopted by a haat’mando’ade advisor of Jasters?

(this would have been out on monday except i rewrote it twice T◡T this is by far the best version i already have a few haat mando’ade Obis so i gave this one a twist (ゝω·) thank you for the prompt, anon! i started planning this one as soon as it came in, i’m so happy to finally be able to get to it (ノ*´◡`) i hope you like it! i am now inordinately attached to the idea of a wookiee raising obi, and wanted to do so much more with chalmun but it did not work out by rewrite three. someday, friend (๑o﹏o๑)

When Obi-Wan meets the Mand’alor on Bandomeer, wearing his failures like funeral garb, Jaster calls him Haar Gaanla. The Chosen.

Obi-Wan never makes it to the Agricorp outpost, he doesn’t even make it out of the spaceport; the moment he steps off the transport from the Temple, the Force all but takes over his feet, humming in happiness as it leads Obi-Wan further and further into the port, until it pulls him to a stop in front of a Nova Courier starship.

A Mandalorian without a helmet turns around from stocking his cargo hold, and knows from one look that there’s something not quite right about Obi-Wan, that the way the opalescent Force ripples around him is not the way it surrounds others.

“Haar Gaanla,” the man says, as the Force whispers Mand’alor, as Obi-Wan says,

“I’m coming with you.”

Jaster lets him sleep in his bunk the whole way to Concord Dawn.

When Obi-Wan meets the Journeyman Protector Chalmun, the Wookiee stepping out of his terracotta dugout home on a farmstead that looks like it’s drowning in blooming behot, he calls Obi-Wan Haar Gaanla. The Chosen.

Obi-Wan smiles around his missing tooth, and calls him buir.

The prophecy of The Chosen One is not specific to the Jedi, Chalmun has heard it all over the galaxy from as many peoples as he has bowcasters — which is to say, a lot. Mandalore has had their own prophecy from as far back as the Taung, and Obi-Wan doesn’t know what that means for him, somehow raised a Jedi first, but Mando’ad now.

His first night as Chalmun’s foundling, he tells Obi-Wan the story of the Wookiee warrior that carried her people into the trees and showed them the sky, before giving them her bones to build the first treehouse. Her name, Otwiyaddirm, came to mean freedom, choice, and has a variation in all Wookiee tongues.

Chalmun tells him more stories like that while he teaches him how to farm and how to grow, how to care for the behot leaves that are their main income, but also the root vegetables planted at the bushes’ base. Master Tyvokka spoke Shyriiwook when Obi-Wan was in the Temple, but Obi-Wan’s crèchemaster was one of his apprentices, and she taught their whole clan Xaczik instead, partly just to piss her old master off.

Obi-Wan knows the Force likes to mess with him, lead him to believe one thing before spinning him 540º to another answer entirely, so he knows there is very little in his life that the Force does not have a hand in; that Chalmun speaks Xaczik rather than the far more common Shyriiwook? Well, it’s not as if Obi-Wan is surprised.

Before Jaster, Obi-Wan had only interacted with one Force user that was not a Jedi, a Zebraki woman that had come to study the architecture of the Coruscant Temple. Obi-Wan had snuck out of bed and was on the run from Master Oraruu when the Zabrak had found him and crouched in front of him — she called him Uifri with a sort of fond awe, and walked him back to the crèche with an impossibly gentle hand in his. Knight Kolar told him later that the closest word in Basic is Chosen.

Master Plo had called him ‘a lantern in the Force’ when he first brought Obi-Wan to the temple, and the description stuck far into his initiate days. Quinlan would tease him about it, saying he ran a few degrees hotter than other humans, because to Quinlan, he was warmth more than light.

So Obi-Wan isn’t unused to epithets and comparisons and whispered names in languages he doesn't speak, but he doesn’t know what to do with himself when his new buir starts to affectionately call him Otwiyaddirm, just as often as he calls him cub.

It certainly confuses Jaster’s foundling the first few times the Mand’alor checks in on Obi-Wan and brings Jango along, who despite being a few years older than Obi-Wan and Haat Mando’ad to boot, can’t pronounce Obi-Wan’s Xaczik name and instead just calls him Nau’ika. Little Light.

Even after Jango learns Obi-Wan has a name in Basic, the nickname stays, because though his midichlorian count is lower than even Jaster’s, Jango can still see his light in the Force. Mando’a doesn’t have a word for the sorts of open-flame lanterns Master Plo had referred to, but Jaster says he thinks Nau’ika suits them just fine.

“Can you feel it?”

Jango looks up from the stone wash basin outside by the greenhouse, where Jaster had assigned the two of them to wash tubers for thirdmeal, but he finds Obi-Wan resolutely focussed on the blue tuber he’s scrubbing. He’s rolled the sleeves of his red linen shirt up past his elbows, arms toned from working the farmstead, and Jango has half a mind to be amused by Montross’ insistence that Journeyman Protectors and their clans simply can’t compete with Supercommandos — Montross has obviously never seen the size of the sacks of behot leaves Obi-Wan and Chalmun regularly sling from the barn to their speeder.

“Feel what?” Jango asks, while Obi-Wan works at a particularly stubborn spot of dirt with his reed scrubber.

Obi-Wan doesn’t answer immediately, but his expression is relaxed and thoughtful, so Jango doesn’t press, just waits quietly at his side. He had grown in leaps and bounds under Chalmun’s careful rearing, strong and smart and kind, and he looks almost nothing like the tiny Jedi imp that Jango had met six years before.

His hair is redder now, baked under Concord Dawn’s blue sun until it’s almost copper in the summers. Farmer-tanned skin is spattered with freckles and blemishes where he had been pale as a wampa in a snowdrift when Chalmun had first taken him in; Arla had been like that, too, and something in Jango aches.

“Me.”

Jango blinks, quickly returning to his own scrubbing when he realises he had been staring. “You? Oh, you mean the light thing?” Obi-Wan nods once. “Of course I can, everyone above Force-null can.”

His relaxed expression tightens, lips pressed thin as the water in the basin moves preternaturally. “Everyone keeps saying that,” he says softly, “even the other Sensies here think I’m special.”

“Aren’t you?”

Obi-Wan shrugs, pushing his hair out of his face with the back of his wrist; it still leaves water running down his forehead, and Jango’s brain short circuits, just a little. “I don’t know. The Jedi certainly didn’t think so.”

“And we’re supposed to care what those shabuire think?” Jango scoffs. “They must be even better at sticking their heads in the ground than I thought, if even the children couldn’t feel you.”

“Wouldn’t they have wanted me if they did?”

Ah, well, perhaps Jango should have expected this.

He can count the number of times Obi-Wan has talked about his time in the Temple on one hand, despite Jaster checking in on him every few months for the last six years. He’s said that his destiny was not with the Jedi in this iteration of the universe, that he knows the Force had not led him astray, and Jango knows he’s genuinely happy here with Chalmun and the Mando’ade, but he also understands that line of thought.

“Would you go back to them if they asked?”

Obi-Wan finally looks at him, wide-eyed. “What? Of course not.”

“Then does it matter knowing what they thought back then, when you don’t care what they think now?” Jango takes the tuber from Obi-Wan’s hand and drops it in the drying basket with the rest, before pulling the stone stopper from the bottom of the basin to drain the water into a pipe that would take it to the reprocessing tank to be reused in watering the fields. “I’m Haat’ad, Nau’ika: I know droidshit about the Force and Force users, and even less about this prophecy nonsense our buire seem to think is important.” He hefts the basket onto his hip and waits for Obi-Wan to hang the scrubbers over the side of the basin to lead them back to the dugout house; he kicks open the door and holds it with his foot for Obi-Wan to duck past him. “I just know you don’t feel like anything else in the galaxy, that people will always want to take advantage of that power, and that you are far safer all the way out here than in the Core.”

Their conversation falls off as they remove their shoes to join Jaster and Chalmun in the kitchen, and though Obi-Wan doesn’t bring it up again that night –or any time after– Jango knows he thinks about it still.

When Jango’s starcruiser drops out of the sky over Concord Dawn, crashing into the behot fields and cutting a furrow of flying dirt and flowers right across the farmstead, Obi-Wan is already calling on the Force, oily-black and opalescent and warm, to drag Jango from the wreckage. Obi-Wan wraps it heavy around the both of them, as he kneels in bloody, screaming mud with Jango’s head on his shoulder, as he holds his hand heavy, warm, oil-slick against Jango’s throat until his dead pulse jumps underneath his palm.

Mand’alor — “Sole ruler”, contended ruler of Mandalore. Haar Gaanla — “The Chosen”, fan creation for a Mandalorian Chosen One myth behot — an herb with a citrus taste and mildly stimulating properties, most often infused into shig, a Mandalorian beverage used similarly to caf buir/e — “parent/s”, gender neutral Haat Mando’ad/e — lit. “true children of Mandalore”, True Mandalorians (slang shortened to Haat'ad/e) Nau’ika — “Little light”, nickname for this specific Obi, which becomes new Mando’a slang for open-flame lanterns shabuir/e — an extreme insult, mostly accepted in fandom to be an insult of an individual’s ability to parent (from buir), which is an intrinsic part of Mandalorian psyche and identity Uifri — “Chosen”, Zabraki (found with this translator) Otwiyaddirm — name meaning “Choice”, “Freedom”, Xaczik (made by combining names with this generator; myth is my own)

*my understanding is that blue suns supporting planet life is impossible, but i raise you: rule of cool. and does concord dawn even have a blue sun in disney or legends canon? i dunno, but you can’t stop me*

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copias-thrall · 3 years

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Cause I'm Young and I'm Here and So Beautiful

A look into the rise and fall of Mary Goore's flash-in-the-pan modeling career.

~12.5K Mary Goore/Reader *drug/alcohol use; mentions of past child abuse; brief homelessness; plot no porn; POV shift*

This fic was inspired by and is very loosely based on Aurelio Voltaire's early days in NYC in the 90s, though I have set it in Boston in the early aughts. 😊

Many thanks to the artists who did commissions for this! 🥰

One Way Streets

Mary stepped off the regional rail and gripped his backpack. He had $72.57 in cash rolled into his socks and a give-em-hell attitude.

When he’d packed his bag the night before, he wasn’t even sure if he’d go through with it, but he couldn’t stand being home anymore. Some of his friends had told him he was crazy.

"Three more months, dude. You got this. Just finish high school, then bounce."

But they didn’t have to live with his dad and the step-monster. Every day was a new indignity. Having them bitch about his music and his style was one thing—that he could have dealt with—but everything else had just kind of…escalated.

Now that the kiddies were older, they’d turned into gremlins. They’d somehow sensed that Mary wasn’t their beloved older brother—he was some sort of half other. They’d stopped questioning why "mom was so mean" to him and had accepted that she was because there was something wrong with Mary. They realized they could be little shits and blame everything on him.

And dad just didn’t care. He’d throw up his hands and say, "I have to live with her"—as if Mary wasn’t in the same boat.

Dad hadn’t stopped her when—in a rage—she’d smashed every single vinyl album Mary had owned because the twins ruined her nice tablecloth. He’d shrugged when she cut all Mary's guitar strings so he couldn’t play "the devil’s music." He’d held Mary back when she took a match and burned all his secret stuff that Mary kept under his bed—action figures, books, guitar mags, journals—in the backyard because he got detention for smoking. He hadn’t said a word when the police showed up after she came at Mary with scissors because he’d dyed his hair black and he’d pushed her away before she could scalp him.

Mary thought for sure he was going to get carted off to jail as she screamed about him terrorizing the family and being afraid he was going to kill her sons in their sleep, but the officers had just looked at her bored and told her being a teenager wasn’t a crime.

So, no: Mary couldn’t wait 3 more months.

He’d scraped together what money he had left from his secret shifts working as a busboy under the table at a local dive downtown, packed his backpack with the essentials, and walked the 5 miles to the train station instead of going to school.

Eighteen was 10 weeks away. He could fudge it for a few months, especially since he could already get away without using his fake ID to get into shows most of the time.

So, to the big city it was.

He shifted his weight and tried to pretend that he belonged here in Boston, but actually facing the busy streets was a lot different from looking at a bird’s-eye view map. He had a printout in his pocket, but he didn’t want to look like a doe-eyed tourist. So he set off down the seemingly labyrinthine streets in the direction he could have sworn was the correct one.

It wasn't.

When he came out a side alley into Faneuil Hall, he almost wondered if he'd gone through a fairy portal, since he was clear on the other side of town. Begrudgingly, he checked his creased map, and set out once more.

And ended up spit out by the State building.

Finding the hostel turned into a fraught adventure, and he got turned around several times more. When he tried to ask for directions, most people pushed past him while one lady shoved $5 at him. He used the cash to buy a hotdog, and it was the vendor who ultimately gave him directions in his thick, Southie accent.

Of course, making it to the hostel ended up being just part one. The rates were almost double what it stated online ("Sorry, honey—that site hasn’t been upgraded since the 90s."), and two nights were practically all his savings. Mary had thought he’d at least have a couple of days to find a job, not 36hrs.

He left the hostel, wondering for the first time if maybe he shouldn’t go back home…but he decided it was a nice day out. Surely there was some place he could hunker down. Just for the night.

What he hadn’t anticipated was the cops at every fucking turn telling him to move along. And any place out of line-of-sight seemed to already be inhabited.

He finally found a place behind some rocks in the Seaport where he didn’t think he’d be murdered in his sleep, curled around his backpack, and drifted off into a fitful sleep.

Mary woke up damp from the dew and the morning sun streaming into his eyes. The birds were creating an awful racket, but Mary guessed it was as good an alarm clock as any.

He ran his fingers through his bird's nest of hair, and he made his way back to the South Station. The men’s room may have smelled like a sewage treatment plant, but at least it was free. He had expected it to be mostly empty at the crack of dawn, but it was full of commuters making that last run to the head before they had to take the train 2hrs out of the city for work.

And it was a sight: a bunch of suits with their fancy lattes washing their hands, and Mary in the corner trying to surreptitiously wipe down with paper towels under his Misfits t-shirt and his shredded jeans. At school, he’d have probably gotten into several altercations by now—no one would have let him just turn into Mary Goore without a fight—but this was Boston, and no one gave him more than a cursory glance.

Just another college kid.

It emboldened Mary to go full-out in the kind of way he had only done when going out to the punk shows downtown at night: kohl all the way around his eyes, and some on his cheekbones; mascara because his lashes are long and thick, and he knows it (his dad had said it made him look hard, and Mary had sneered that maybe that was what he’d been going for. But maybe it had been because he’d liked the way it had made his green eyes pop.); a smear of the step-monster’s fanciest matte lipstick on his full lips; and airplane glue in his hair to give it that lift.

He made a kissy face at himself in the mirror, and headed back out.

It was a nice Spring day—almost boiling in the direct sun—and it tempted Mary to wear only his battle vest, but even he kind of figured applying to jobs half dressed was a mistake.

He walked all over the city, trying not to get lost, looking for any kind of work—dishwasher, busboy, barback—but all he had to show for it was blistered feet and a raging appetite. The only good part of the day was that he noted any restaurant or bakery that looked like it might toss perfectly good food at the end of the day.

He and his friends had become experts at dumpster diving in his podunk town, and he felt confident that he had a good feel for a jackpot. Mary staked out a bakery and was rewarded with a find of "old" bagels. He shoved as many as he could into the nooks and crannies of his backpack before slinking off to the Commons to inhale at least two of them.

Cold, stale dough never tasted so good.

He watched the tourists and the professionals walk by in ones and in groups while he ran his bare feet through the grass. Some laughed with each other as they sauntered down the path while others seemed singularly intent on their ultimate destination. A pack of dogs ran and played with each other as their owners looked on fondly, and nearby the baseball diamond hosted a casual game.

Mary counted his lucky stars that his first week in Boston was April at its kindest—always mild during the day, even when it turned cloudy, and a few times even downright warm. The nights turned chilly, though, and it had Mary in more layers than an onion. If the birds or damp didn't wake him, his butt cramps from being curled in a tight ball all night did.

He spent those days walking around the city proper looking for work. He wasn't adventurous enough to make the leap across the bridges to Cambridge just yet, but his travels gave him a good sense on how the different sections of Boston connected—and showed him potential places to crash at night. He didn't even mind living off day-old garbage food and drinking from bubblers (he'd bought a water for the express purpose of reusing the bottle), but the barren wasteland that seemed to be the job market was beginning to weigh on him.

At home, he could always find a shit job if he was willing to put up with shit hours and ridiculous requests. Here, though, Mary was just one of many desperate people willing to do desperate work.

And he didn’t look particularly trustworthy or reliable.

@dipendancesld

Hashtag WTF

I’m scrolling through Insta on the T, and I’m way down the rabbit hole of hashtags. New content was at a minimum this morning (how can I follow accounts in triple digits and only see the same 4 posts?!), so I’d started with some art tags and ended up where I usually end up—trolling social media for blurry pictures of my boy.

His band has been a local staple for years—or at least that’s what he told me on our first date. I had just moved from New York after a nasty breakup, ready to start fresh, and I’d seen him at a coffee shop hanging posters for his next show in his leather jacket, asymmetrical Metallica crop top, and stomping boots.

Fresh had never looked so good.

Then, a few months back, an online publication had featured his band in the year’s 50 best bands "you’ve never heard of," and now the band's starting to gain traction.

He’s starting to gain traction.

Finding the new online content of him first has become a game the two of us play. We had to stop counting images posted from the popular fan accounts because Mary's now acquaintances with most of them, and I said it was hardly fair to snipe me that way. Mary had pouted—but it was to cover up his grin. So now we troll for the pictures of his latest gig or at his favorite haunts from either his casual fans or one of his new ones. I even have a whole range of hashtag typos saved if I really want to triumph, since Mary just doesn't have the attention span.

I usually win, though, by virtue of not keeping Rockstar Hours—and because Mary doesn’t have a smartphone. Mary delights in spending the wee hours while I'm sleeping finding new content, and I'll often wake to one he's pulled up on my laptop and a "suck it" sticky note stuck to my monitor.

(But I’m reigning supreme.)

There’s a thirst tag I sometimes comb through (for reasons), and today I’m desperate for that morning serotonin to keep me from dozing off, which is why I stumble across a particularly convincing cosplayer in some…risqué poses and outfits.

The dude is really good, and I have to admit he really does have Mary’s mannerisms down pat. He’s younger and a little skinnier than Mary is now, but his facial expressions are on point. I zoom in to see the contouring technique because he's using one of those filters to make it look old…and that’s when I sense something off. I can’t quite place my finger on it, but usually there’s an uncanny valley to his serious cosplayers, and this dude looks so real. He’s even 100% accurate with the mole placement, which is something I never see.

My heart does a flip-flop.

Is that…actually Mary?

Foundling

Mary's sixth night in the city, it rained. It was more of a brief Spring shower, but it was still enough to soak him and his backpack through. He shivered through the early morning hours until the sun came up, then he made his way to the Commons to lay his belongings—and himself—out into the sun to dry.

By midday, he had a slight sunburn across his nose, but most of his things were dryish—though the food was a soggy lost cause. He cut his losses and decided to buy a sausage from the hotdog vendor, even if that meant he was down to $52.37 in his sock bank.

It was the most amazing thing he'd ever eaten in his entire life (sometimes he still dreams of it), and he gobbled it down as he sat in the grass and watched the show of people pass by.

He could take today off from his job search.

Just another Groundhog Day of rejections.

A gaggle of kids about his age walked past, and he lit up when he saw them: studs and bright hair and cuffs and combat boots. They ran and shrieked and shoved at each other, and Mary had never felt such longing to be a part of something.

Not that nebulous feeling of "my world is out there somewhere," but "my world is right there if I can just get to it."

And he realized maybe he could.

These were his people.

Mary hopped off the bench and approached the boisterous group.

"Uh, hey…guys."

The pack stopped and looked him over, confused but not hostile.

"Oh hey, man" said a girl with green fins and a studded, leather jacket.

"Hey."

I have nowhere to go. Can I go with you?

"Sorry, I forgot your name."

"Oh, you don’t—"

A guy in a tight striped shirt, snake bites, and blue hair interrupted him.

"Shit, were you in my intro into film class last year?"

Mary was a high school dropout.

"Nah, dude. I’m new and shit."

…But he wasn’t stupid.

A curvy white goth with bleached blonde hair and a cream princess dress smiled at him.

"Aww, that’s rough, honey. If you think about it, they really ought to give transfers on-campus housing. It sucks to be so new and away from the action."

Mary nodded. "Yeah. Sucks."

"Well, we’re going to The Pit, wanna come?"

"If you guys don’t mind…"

"Fuck, the more the merrier!"

Mary smiled as they assimilated him into the group. He found out the goth’s name was Vanessa ("But call me Vanity."), green fins was Alexa ("Or Alex. I’m trying it out."), striped shirt was Billy, and the two other punks were Mandi (Manic Panic red) and Aaron (band tee, spiked collar).

No one laughed at him when he introduced himself as Mary or asked him why he had a girl’s name.

They took him onto the T at Charles MGH, and Mary marveled at the setting sun over the Charles River before the train ducked underground to barrel in Cambridge. At Harvard, they ushered him off the train and directly into The Pit, and Mary almost cried when he saw the pit rats there playing hacky sack, strumming guitars, and smoking cloves. Mary watched as his group high-fived, bumped chests, and hugged nearly everyone there before introducing him as if they’d known him for years.

He was shit at hacky sack, but he accepted a round on the guitar and shared a clove with a white girl who had a rat's nest of hair.

"Fuck their beauty stands," she said when she caught Mary staring.

Mary smiled and pointed to his own mess of hair. "Fuck ‘em," he repeated.

She cackled and handed him a brown bag with what he expected to be whiskey, but tasted like turpentine.

She laughed harder at his face as he coughed, and she pounded him on the back.

"Moonshine, dude. Lenny makes it in his bathtub."

"Which one is Lenny," Mary asked as he wiped off his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Oh, he’s not here. He goes to MIT. We have a strict trade agreement—booze for pot. I’m Katie."

Head fuzzy, Mary had made out with her until Aaron tugged on his arm.

"Shit dude, we gotta go before the T closes. You live close to here?"

"Uh…"

"Aww, I think he got into Lenny’s moonshine," said Vanity. "If he’s a transfer, I bet he’s at some shithole in Allston. You in Allston, honey?"

Mary just nodded.

"All right then," said Alex, taking charge. "We’ll put him up tonight. There’s no way he’s gonna make it back to Allston by himself, and I’ll be fucked if I’m trekking out there without a BU party to crash."

Mary wobbled slightly as Alex took his arm in his and led him to the T.

"Ok, we gotta go now or we’ll all be hoofing it."

They took Mary back to their dorm by the Hatch Shell and signed him in as a guest.

"Is this ok?" Mary asked warily—he didn't want to get kicked out in the middle of the night.

Mandi patted him on the back.

"We do it all time. No one really gives a shit. Vegan Mick dropped out 2 semesters ago and they don’t even check for his ID."

That night, Mary slept in the common room on a lumpy couch that was half as long as he was.

It was heaven.

The next morning seemed like the end, and Mary slumped as Vanity to sign him out. For one brief day he'd been a part of something, and now it was back to Mary, party of one. But Vanity took one look at his face and asked if he wanted to get breakfast at the dining hall.

Of course, he wanted to…but he thought of the dwindling cash in sock bank and hesitated. Vanity, bless her, misread his trepidation.

"It's on me, sweetie. I know most transfers don’t opt in. Too expensive when it’s not bundled. No worries, I got a ton of points I don’t use."

Alex and Aaron were already half done with their food when Vanity and he joined them, and they looked on in amusement as Mary ate half the breakfast buffet.

When the subject of classes came up, he shrugged off questions.

"None this morning."

Alex narrowed her eyes at him.

"What year did you say you were?"

"Sophomore."

"Not a freshman?"

Mary shook his head. "I’m not a freshman."

She seemed about to ask another question, so Mary quickly changed the subject.

"I thought I’d spend the day applying for jobs. You guys know of any place that’s hiring?"

"No work study?"

"No."

"What kind of work you looking for?"

"Shit, anything. I’ll sweep the fucking floors."

They bandied about ideas, places for Mary to try, but no one had any leads. Too soon, some unknown gong had them scurrying to get to class.

Mary suddenly panicked.

"Hey, do you guys mind if I spend the night again? I mean…"

"Yeah, sure," said Vanity. "Aaron?"

"Yeah, man. Meet me after class and I'll swipe you in."

It apparently was a time-honored tradition, passed down from upperclassmen to underclassmen, on gaming the guest system. Most kids used it to essentially move their significant others into their dorm rooms, but a handful every year used it to give haven to others who had questionable housing situations.

So, just like that, Mary had a place to rest his bones.

@dilfpassing

A Deeper Look

I’m so intent on scrolling through the comments on the grainy pics—which I'm sure now are actual scans—that I completely miss my stop, and I have to put my phone away so I can wheeze lightly jog my way to where I work as a receptionist at an alternative hair salon.

It’s really important that I start a good hour before we open so I can return any calls left on our voicemail first thing in case I can fit anyone in today. Which means I have to shelve my find for now, much to my irritation.

Mornings are super-busy because apparently there are some people in the world that like getting up with the sun and want everything done by noon. (June Cleaver’s salon lets me get away with a lot—like coming to work in denim short-shorts and ripped tights, free hair colors, and a snarky attitude—but late start times aren’t one of them.) I honestly don’t have room in my brain to obsess about the pictures because I’m too busy answering calls, making coffee, settling accounts, and giving the new customer spiel for the 57th time to a walk-in.

It’s just after midday, when Penny, the shampoo girl, collects my cash for the salon-wide sandwich run, and I finally have a moment to breathe. And obsess.

I take out my phone again, and I have to retrace my steps because of course the app has refreshed, which is why Sonia has the time to look over my shoulder.

"Missing dream boy’s dick so much you gotta spend your lunch hour ogling pics of him on the internet?"

I zoom in on the one of maybe!Mary in his underwear.

"Who does that look like to you?"

Sonia makes a guh sound in her throat and backs away.

"I don’t need to see your intimates!"

"That’s the thing! It’s not mine!"

"Your boy’s nudes get leaked??"

I wave my arms around.

"I don’t freakin’ know! They may not even be him. Fucking. C’mere and help me out!"

Sonia warily creeps back over, and so does Ryan, since all the yelling has attracted him.

The three of us peer over the phone as I scroll through the images again.

By the time Penny comes back with lunch, we’ve gone back and forth on who’s in the images—Mary or a fake—and I haven’t been able to do any actual research. The afternoon rush starts, and I have to table the whole thing again, having made no progress at all.

It isn’t until near-closing, when most of the other stylists have gone home—and it’s only June who does the post-work crowd—that I can really dig into the matter.

A deep dive and a couple of defunct, decade-old forums later, I find that what I took as an aspirational hashtag was actually the name of a zine called "Heroes."

There’s like, zero online trail about it—except for a few other grainy scans of other pages of articles, poetry, concert pictures, and art—but it seemed to be an early aughts missive for local underground culture and color.

It still doesn’t explain why Mary’s in there in various states of undress and poses.

Or why Mary has never said a word about it to me.

Stripped Bare

Mary settled into a sort of routine. He spent most days looking for a job—any job—with his backpack full of food from their dining hall. Most nights he rotated couches on different floors so the RAs didn’t notice that he basically lived there.

He made friends with Vegan Mick for about 5 seconds until Mary had eaten an entire Rotisserie chicken from 7-11 in front of him. Mick had launched into a whole spiel, and Mary had pointed out that Mick's jacket and Docs were made of leather. He’d only meant it as a joke—a callout in answer to a callout, like he'd do with his friends back home—but Vegan Mick had turned purple, then iced Mary out every time he saw him after that.

Oops.

The brief friendship had lasted long enough, however, for Mick to give Mary some tips and tricks of being homeless.

Homeless.

That had been a tough pill to swallow. Until Vegan Mick had put Mary’s situation like that, Mary had just thought of himself between places.

But it was true: he didn’t live anywhere. He skated by on the kindness of his new friends, and he didn’t know how much longer he could keep up the ruse of "transfer student who didn’t like his shithole apartment and was too busy job searching to concentrate on classes."

He still spent a few nights a week finding an out-of-the-way place outside to hunker down in or huddling in with Katie and a few of the other gutter punks under their boxes in the corners of the T stations. He knew they would have been more than happy to make room, anyway, but Mary always emptied his backpack of all the pilfered dining hall food for distribution amongst them.

It honestly wasn't so terrible now that he had friends and a warm place to go on cold or rainy nights, but.

He needed an actual place to live. To afford an actual place to live, he needed a job. To get a job, he needed a place to live.

It seemed like a catch-22, and he began to despair that he’d never get ahead…until Mandi offered him a leg up.

Mary was sitting on the grass in the Commons in the shade, thinking that with summer coming up, maybe he could fudge it until the gang came back in September. There was always Katie and The Pit, and Mary was sure he could chip in somehow.

Mandi sat down next to him.

"I thought that mess of hair was you, Mare."

"Hey, Mandi. What’s kicks?"

"You still looking for a job?"

Mary put his head in his hands and sighed.

"Don’t remind me."

"You over 18?"

Just last week. But Mary hadn’t said, since they thought he was a Sophomore.

"Yeah."

"Wanna be at least 21?"

Mary grinned at her.

"That’s what my fake ID says."

She laughed, a tinkling thing.

"You got anything against strip clubs?"

Mary furrowed his brows at her.

"Uh…what’s the right answer here?"

She shoved him playfully.

"Do you want a job?"

"Yeah?"

"Then say no."

"No. No problems with strip clubs." He squinted at her. "Are they looking for male strippers?"

She laughed again.

"Definitely not." She canted her head at Mary. "I mean, you're very pretty, Mare. I could probably put you on as one of the girls…even with these triple As," she flicked playfully at his nipple, which had him grunting and batting at her, "but I was thinking more behind the scenes."

Mary held up his arm and made a weak muscle.

"I don’t think I’d be much of a bouncer, Mands."

"You said you’d wash dishes, sweep floors and shit, right?"

"Yeah?"

"Well, the club I work at—"

"The club at you what now?"

Mandi gave him a strange look.

"Yeah. The strip club I work at."

Mary’s eyes bugged out.

"As a…waitress?"

"As a stripper, Mary. Duh." At his dumbfounded look she shook her head. "It’s kind of extra credit, as a dance major. I’m going to turn it into my thesis. Plus, I make hella bank."

She swept her arm across the park that made up her college "campus."

"How else do you think I can afford this rock-and-roll lifestyle? Not all of us are here on scholarship or mom and dad’s dime."

She tilted her head at him.

"I thought you’d get it."

When Mary didn't respond, she touched his shoulder.

"Mare. I know you don't go here."

"W-what…? I…"

He looked at her, wide-eyed as the blood drained from his face.

"Hey, it's ok. I'm not gonna tell anybody. Not if you don't want me to."

Mary looked down. "Thanks." He rubbed the back of his neck. "You know that means I've got no address."

Mandi bumped his shoulder and waved his words away.

"A lot of the girls dance. Paddy is used to dorm rooms as addresses. You can use mine."

Mary looked at her, hoping he could convey every ounce of gratitude he was feeling.

She grinned and punched him in the shoulder.

"So, you up for it? Sweeping floors and bussing tables?" She leveled a look at him. "Cleaning up puke?"

Anything.

"Fuck, I’m desperate, Mands. I’ll hold their hair back if it means a paycheck."

"That’s the spirit!"

***

Mary was sure Patrick was part of the mob—or at least in cahoots. The guy had taken one look at Mary’s ID and had said, "But how old are you really?" and Mary had said, "Nineteen."

Patrick had thrown up his hands. "Well, you ain’t gonna be serving alcohol anyway, kid. Your job is to do whatever I tell you. Some asshole breaks a bottle, you clean up the glass so the girls don’t hurt themselves. Some idiot ralphs all over the toilet seat, you scrub the shit out of that fucker. A bachelor party leaves a table a hot mess, you better be out there clearing off the table for the next one, got it?"

Mary had nodded.

"You show up at 5 to help the girls set up the bar. You stay til whenever it takes to close down—but you only get paid 'til 2am—and you get an hour to eat, unpaid. You don’t bother the girls, and," Patrick had leaned in, "you don’t steal from me."

Mary had gulped and nodded emphatically.

Patrick had jabbed a finger at him. "That includes the booze. If I get fucked because some snot-nosed, underage kid is drinking with my good friends Jim and Johnnie, I’m gonna be very put out."

"Got it, sir."

"Don’t call me sir. I’m Paddy to my friends, so you can call me Patrick."

"Yes, Patrick."

Patrick had looked him over.

"You get paid as an independent contractor just like the girls, so you gotta deal with your own taxes, you got that? I’ll start you at $10 an hour."

Mary’s eyes had gone wide. Back home he was lucky to get 5.

"Ten…?"

Patrick had tilted his head again.

"No, you’re right, 12. Do a good job, and I’ll think about raising it to 15."

Mary had to physically stop his jaw from dropping.

"You do weeknights for now so if you fuck up it’s not that much of a problem. If you don’t fuck up and the girls don’t hate you, you can get weekends. Deal?"

Mary had sat up straighter. "Deal." He’d held his hand out, but Patrick had just looked at it until Mary pulled it back into his side.

"Ariel vouched for you, so I’m giving you a shot. Don’t make her regret it."

Mary had shaken his head as Patrick had handed him some forms to fill out.

"Come back at 4 tomorrow with these and we’ll get you started. Now, get out, I got shit to do."

Mary had taken the forms and skedaddled.

Mandi was outside waiting for him, all smiles.

"Did you get it?"

"Yeah, but fuck—your boss is scary."

"Nah, he’s a teddy bear."

***

The job was awful.

The puke was an almost nightly occurrence, and by the end of the first week, little cuts covered Mary’s hands from the broken glass. The customers were loud, rowdy, and acted as if their mother was going to clean up after them.

Mary swore he would never get the beer smell out. It now lived in his soul.

One dude punched Mary and broke his nose for no reason Mary could tell before the bouncers dragged the guy away. The girls gave him some tampons to stop the bleeding, and Mary finished his shift.

Patrick paid Mary in cash at the end of every week with a "It’s your job to report that, not mine," and at the end of the month, Patrick bumped Mary up to $15/hr. He worked 5 days a week because, according to Patrick, "The Lord gave us a day of rest, and you get one day off per week."

Mary never reported a single cent to the IRS.

The girls loved him, and joked that Patrick had gotten them a pet. They showed him winged eyeliner and smokey eyes and how to contour. They guffawed when they watched him try out their shoes like a newborn deer. On slow nights, they tried to show him pole techniques.

He saw the gang less and less because by the time they were getting out of class, he was going into work, and when he was done work, they were crawling into bed. Fortunately, the desk sitters seemed to forget that he wasn’t an on-campus "student" and didn’t even bother signing him in anymore. There were a few sticklers, but Mary found that—while back home he was less than scum—here, he attracted all the right kinds of attention…and a smirk with the right compliment went a long way.

By the time their school year ended, Mary had saved up $1,000 (and he needed to transfer his money out of sock bank and into the ripped lining of his jacket).

Even though they didn't know just how much they'd saved him, Mary showed up on the last day as thanks to help them all move their stuff into family cars or rented trucks. They hugged him goodbye and said to ring them next semester.

Mandi bopped him on the nose and told him to keep his nose clean.

Mary took a sublet in Allston with 2 BU kids and a Berkley grad student. The "room" was a closed-in porch with a sleeping bag left by the last resident—but it was $400 a month until September, utilities included.

At first, Mary didn't know why the gang was so snobby about Allston, but the summer seemed to be one continual party. It didn't matter what day Mary got up, there were always broken beer bottles and stale beer on their front stoop, and the apartment had a designated watering can for washing away the vomit that dripped down from the top porches to their own.

But he took it in stride, and when he wasn’t at the strip club or sleeping, he was partying with the BU kids, or letting the Berkley grad show him better string fingering techniques.

Mary still tried to get out to The Pit with what groceries he could spare, but Katie had moved on with some of the others to do a protest tour with an activist street band that had come through town, and without her or the gang, it made Mary feel lonely.

By the end of the summer, Mary had saved up enough money for first, last, and security. He even had some left over to buy more than ramen and some new clothes. To Mary, it felt like a million dollars. He rented a garden-level apartment in the cheap part of Jamaica Plain for September 1st and spent that entire day with the BU dudes driving around in their rented truck for Allston Christmas’s best furniture finds.

Mary ended up with a mattress that he hoped on a wish and a prayer didn’t have bedbugs, a mismatched set of dishes, plastic drawers that were slightly warped, and a broken futon frame he swore he would fix. Throw in a few sets of slightly used string lights, and Mary’s cave felt downright homey.

When the gang got back, he simply told them he’d dropped out.

"Yeah, I just don’t think college is for me. Music’s my real passion, you know?"

Alex had groaned.

"I knew that Berkley kid was gonna be a bad influence on you."

Mary shrugged.

"My grades were shit anyway. But I’m still around, you know. The strip club’s only a block from campus."

"Because we saw you so much then," deadpanned Billy.

"Hey! Stop piling on Mary," said Vanity. "He’s following his path."

Mary shot her a wide smile.

"Thanks, Vanity."

Patrick finally gave him a little more leeway with his days off, and Mary started taking Saturday night to join the gang in Harvard Square for the shadow cast of Rocky Horror. One of Aaron’s classmates, Amber, was in it, and they all wanted to support her.

Mary felt that something again. That thing that told that this was his place and his people. This eclectic group who got up in front of strangers every week in their underwear for free enthralled Mary.

He and Amber bonded immediately, and Mary began going even without the gang. The cast welcomed him in as an honorary groupie, and Mary's friendship with the gang waned. There was still Mandi to cavort with at the strip club, but now when Mary wasn't there, he was at any one of the Rocky crew's apartments getting high and playing dress up.

"You’ve got such a Look, Mare," sighed Amber. "I’d kill for your cheekbones."

"I’d kill for your tits."

She slapped him playfully. "Don’t be gross."

"No, I’m serious. Someone once put it in my head that I'd be a hot chick."

The girls had giggled and proceeded to dress him up in bras and corsets with cutlets. They added a wig, and the glo-up surprised even Mary.

Still buzzed, they went out for girl’s night and hit up all the bars in Fenway and flirted their way to free shots from the dude bros before batting their falsies at bouncers to let them into the clubs ahead of the line and without the cover.

The cutlets eventually became a nuisance—and soon they were all flapping them about above their heads as they danced—but Mary had loved the feel of the lace and satin corsets against his skin.

When they’d all collapsed in a pile at the end of the night, Mary wondered if they’d tell him where to get some lingerie for himself.

***

By August, Mary was ready to quit the strip club.

He was tired of cut fingers (they were making it hard to play the guitar he’d bought), the drunks, and the sick everywhere. Now that he had a little cushion, he thought maybe he could at least find something with better hours.

Mandi had graduated and was well into a summer internship at Disney in hopes they’d bring her on as a dancer.

Alex had also graduated and moved out to LA to make it as a film editor.

Vanity and Aaron had started dating after finals, and they had moved in together in Cambridgeport for their last year.

Billy had stopped going to classes before dropping out altogether. No one seemed to know what happened, and when they called his home, his mother just said he was unavailable.

There didn’t seem to be much reason to stick around the Grid anymore, and it was a bitch of a commute back to his place if he wasn’t going to hang out with the Rocky crew. He landed a job at a record store that was walking distance to his apartment.

Patrick seemed surprisingly sad to see him go, saying, "Ah, the good ones smart up," and gave him a $500 bonus for not "fucking up."

Tim, one of the older Rocky people, turned out to not live too far from him, and when Mary started hanging out there, so did the party.

Now that Mary was no longer shackled by the strip club’s hours, his world opened a few more degrees. He spent his nights dressing up while he watched the cast rehearse. (When he showed them a move or two he learned from the women at the club, they tried to get him to do a guest star as Frank. But Mary had shaken his head and said that wasn’t the kind of performing he wanted to do.)

When they weren't rehearsing, they dragged Mary to TT The Bear’s, The Middle East, and The Milky Way Lounge for underground shows. They took him to fetish night at ManRay after a trip to Hubba Hubba for pleather and lingerie, and Mary made a lot of new friends.

Sometimes, Mary would show up to work straight off a night out in his club clothes, eyeliner smudged and lipstick smeared. It should have got him fired, but his boss just shrugged.

"I used to keep rockstar hours too."

Mary still wore all his old vestiges—his battle vest and his ripped jeans—it was just that now he sometimes added a corset and heels.

Wherever Katie was now, he hoped she knew he was still fucking their beauty standards.

ry.omen Insta

Answer Me This

I practically vibrate the entire way back to our place. I'm still trying to wring information out of the internet like it's too-wet clothes, but the only thing I accomplish is making myself motion sick on the bus, so I put my phone back in my pocket and breath through my nose.

When I get home, Mary is sprawled across the couch in his pjs with various limbs hanging over sides and edges as he watches some extreme sport show on my laptop.

I wonder if he just got up, but I see the start of dinner on the stove, so I decide not to snark at him.

"Hey," he says without looking up.

I am, however, gonna need some answers on "Heroes."

I gently close the laptop, and he meets my eyes.

"What?"

I climb onto the couch, and Mary’s limbs recede like vines to make room for me as I scroll through my phone to my photo app where I’ve saved screenshots.

"Lucy," I say in a terrible accent, "you have some ‘splaining to do!"

Mary squints at me and takes my phone, his expression morphing into one of surprise.

"Shit, babe. Where’d ya find these??"

"So they are you!"

He chuckles.

"Christ…I haven't thought about these in fucking years."

"Mind telling me what the fuck?" I ask, my hands on my hips.

I'm only half joking.

Mary grimaces at me.

"Ah."

"I'm gonna need more than that, mister."

He rubs the back of his neck.

"Fuck, you know those were hard times for me."

I know about his family, the homelessness. I know he tried out a lot until he found a life that fit. He'd given me the overviews with occasional anecdotes filled with names I never remembered.

But none of them included naughty pictures.

I worm my way under his arm.

"Yeah, I know, Mare."

His hand strokes down my arm.

"I mean, shit. I was kinda an asshole, you know?"

I wrap an arm around his chest.

"You're still kind of an asshole, Goore."

"Thanks."

"No problem."

When he doesn't say more, I poke him hard in the side.

"I’m literally dying here."

He laughs a little.

"Fine. But you gotta remember you asked."

Model Behavior

One day, Mary was walking down the street on his way to drinks with the new friends he'd made the weekend before. It was a good day. He wasn’t hungover as fuck, his makeup was only smudged artfully, and he was pretty sure he was going to get laid.

A guy in a leather jacket and tight jeans maybe a few years older than Mary stopped him on the street.

"Hey, man! I love your style."

Mary batted his eyelashes at him. "Thanks, dude."

"You ever think of dark modeling?"

Mary squinted his eyes at him.

"Dark what now?"

"You know—modeling but like," he gestured up and down Mary’s form, "for dark beauties. Show the world beauty isn’t cookie cutter."

"For like what? A website or some shit?"

The guy dug into his pocket, pulled out a card case, and handed one to Mary.

Heroes Greg Karson, Photographer/Web Design Butera School of Art

Actually, Mary had heard of this. It was a zine about the local happenings around town—concerts, art shows, parties, etc. There was a stack of them next to "Rrriot!" in the record shop. He’d flipped through one occasionally, mostly interested in the band reviews.

"We’re really on the lookout for anyone with the right look. You know, wear stuff you already own."

"So like a street fashion spread?"

"Well, we might do a little more with it, but—you know how it is. Most of the budget goes toward printing costs."

Mary perked up.

"Would I be paid?"

Greg laughed.

"Peanuts, my dude. But yeah. Even if it’s a T token. You interested, then?"

"Hell yeah!"

"Mind if I take a few test shots."

Mary smirked at Greg.

"How do you want me?"

"Just natural."

Putting his hands in his pockets, Mary arched his back and gave Greg his best snotty hipster face.

Greg dug out a digital camera from his carrying case and took a dozen or so pictures of Mary from different angles while telling him to turn this way or that.

Afterwards, the two of them huddled over the camera and scrolled through the shots.

"Aw yeah, this one. I love the attitude. The guys are gonna love it. You have a number where we can reach you?"

Mary gave him the number of the record shop. (His apartment had a phone, but he’d never gotten around to wanting to pay for service.)

Later, he and Amber looked up the Angelfire website on the back of the card. It was one page that contained the mission statement, bios of the creators, and locations to pick up the zine.

"Omigod—you’re gonna become a famous model, Mare!"

"Yeah, right. You know most of it ends up in the trash, right?"

But when Ben called, Mary said he was game. He directed Mary to a co-op in a converted warehouse in Dorchester, and Mary brought his favorite clothes in a borrowed duffle.

A girl in cat pajamas opened the door and pointed at a set of metal stairs with her cereal spoon.

On the second floor, Mary found Greg setting up a makeshift studio. A girl with multiple piercings and yarn dreads leaned against the wall in her black babydoll dress.

Mary sidled up to her.

"You here to model, too?"

She gave him an unimpressed once-over.

"I’m the art director, asshole."

Mary flushed hard as she turned to Greg.

"Couldn’t find one with brains?"

She turned back to Mary.

"I don’t know if you thought this would be a good way to meet chicks or what, dude. But I’m letting you know right now that I’m here on my day off to make sure this adheres to our aesthetic, so if you're not serious, fuck off."

Mary rubbed the back of his neck.

"Shit, sorry. I was expecting a dude named Ben."

She waved her hand in the air as if dispelling Ben.

"The Bens are morons. Good idea, terrible execution. I’m here to make sure we remain true to the idea of 'Heroes,' so don’t fuck up my shoot." She gave him a once over. "Christ. You have any experience?"

Greg turned from where he was testing the white balance.

"Angelique, stop harassing the talent. We get it, you have a degree from RISD."

Angelique snorted.

"As if I don't hear you going on and on about being a professional photographer. 'Hey, lemme shoot your portfolio, baby.' Whatever. As if we're not your only professional credit."

"Hey—you wanted a photographer for peanuts? You got me. You wanted models for peanuts? You got him."

Mary gave her his full snaggle-toothed grin.

"I take T tokens."

Angelique sighed, then pasted on a smile.

"Hi! So happy you’re here!" Her smile drooped. "You got your wardrobe in there?"

"Yeah."

Mary handed her the duffle, and she handed him release forms.

"Here: sign these"

She pawed through his offerings.

"Not bad, not bad." She pulled out a corset and his heeled boots. "We'll keep you in your jeans and have you wear your jacket over your corset. Cool?"

Cool.

The shoot was as professional as a shoot in a warehouse in what Mary was taking to usually be a living room could be. Angelique directed Greg with what she wanted. Greg called out positions and expressions for Mary to pose in.

It was surprisingly hard work, and by the end of a solid hour, his smirking lip was getting tired. Angelique and Greg scrolled through the shots, murmuring to themselves and nodding.

Mary waited—greeting at the other inhabitants as they squeezed by on their way either up or down—until Angelique approached him.

"That’ll do. You mind if we post on our website?"

Mary preened.

"Yeah, that’s kosher."

She handed him a pen and pocket notebook.

"Write down a quick bio."

He scribbled down a quick elevator pitch

Into general skulking and metal \m/

and handed the notebook back to her.

"Great, thanks."

She handed him a $20 bill, her eyes skimming him up and down.

"Next time we should show off those hip bones. Just jeans, I think."

Mary perked up. "Next time?"

"We’ll call you."

***

"Omigod, omigod!"

Amber perched on the record store counter, flipping through "Heroes," as Jon peered over her shoulder.

"Mary…look at you!"

Mary tried to swallow his smug smile.

Failed.

"Yeah. I’m hot shit, ain’t I?"

She bopped him on the nose with the newsprint.

"Don’t be vain."

He showed her his toothy smile.

"I like to think of it as confidence."

"So did Icarus."

Mary snorted and went back to putting prices on the new CDs.

"The camera loves you," said Jon, who was always quiet and reserved as you please…until he put on Frank’s corset and heels.

Mary had tried flirting with him, but Jon always ducked his head and played it off.

"Thanks, man," said Mary, giving him a softer smile.

"So??"

"So what, Amber?"

"Are you gonna do it again?"

Mary shrugged.

"I mean, if they call me, sure."

But he was kind of hoping they would.

When the next issue came out weeks later, Mary stared at the cybergoth on the pages and felt himself deflate. Listlessly, he thumbed through the delicate print, barely skimming the section devoted to the World/Inferno Friendship Society’s set he’d been at the week before.

He set it down with a sigh before he picked up his guitar and plucked out a tune he was trying to coax into a riff.

By the time a Ben called again, Mary had given up the modeling thing as a one-off.

"Hey, dude—thought maybe you guys forgot about me," Mary said in a teasing tone.

The Ben on the other end chuckled.

"It’s like herding cats to get shit out. Nah, dude—we definitely want you to be one of our regulars. You in for next Saturday?"

He was.

***

Over the course of a year, "Heroes" had Mary come out multiple times for shoots. Mainly, Mary wore his own clothes and did his own makeup, but occasionally, Angelique wanted something specific.

"How comfortable are you with boudoir shots?"

"With what?"

"Like a pinup, but more…saucy than sexy."

I'd pose nude if you paid me enough.

(Sure, he was a noodle boy, but he knew he had the goods.)

"Yeah, I’m cool with that."

Angelique brightened at him.

"Great!"

She picked up a set of complicated leather garters and thrust them at him.

"Put these on."

Mary had only ever worn lace garters—mostly out to clubs, but occasionally under his ripped jeans for an extra pop—but he found he liked these even more, liked the way they emphasized his thighs.

"Hey—where’d you get these…?"

(He was already thinking of what he could pair them with for goth night.)

"Local leatherworker. He mostly does pieces for Renn Fairs, but he'll also do custom. I can give you his info."

She led Mary into what was clearly someone's bedroom.

"Don't fuck anything up, or Joye will never let us use this again."

Mary shot her his best shark smile.

"Hey, I only mess up the sheets if someone asks."

Angelique gave him a flat look and called for Greg.

(But when he draped himself over the bed and told Greg to "Paint me like one of your French girls," Mary could have sworn she almost smiled.)

On one memorable occasion, she brought in a guy whose rope bondage demo she watched at a sex convention.

"Put on some of that lingerie and we'll truss you up. You ok with that, Goore?"

Mary ran his fingers over the coils and gave her a wolfish smile.

"You know I'm game for anything."

She gave him a vulpine smile of her own then, and she looked down at him from the height of her platformed boots.

"Good. I thought you should be submissive for once."

Mary had no witty rejoinder for that.

He listened with interest as the guy carefully explained what he was going to do, complete with pictures, and he relaxed easily into the process. (They put bunny ears on him, and it would be much, much later that he got that particular joke. Well played, Angelique.)

The ropes hadn’t let him do much posing, but Mary had kind of liked the constriction, and his thoughts were already on asking Amber to help him create a more versatile version for fetish night.

He’d left that day with a new kink…and the guy’s number.

"Why not just do one big shoot?" he asked another time. "Get it all done in one big bang!"

Angelique held up his garments to eyeball over him.

"Honey, we never even know if there's gonna be a next issue. The Bens spend most of the time arguing. My god you should hear them—Ben bankrolls the whole thing, so he says he should get final say on shit, and Benji wants total artistic control because it was his idea, because 'he's the graphic designer', and because it's his Kinko's employee discount they use."

She gave Mary a curled-lip smile as she tossed a few items at him.

"In the end it's this bitch you're looking at who gets shit done."

Mary began to change (they were long past modesty).

"How'd you get involved?"

"Went to school with Benji."

"Ben too?"

"Neg. The Bens are childhood friends. Ben works some cushy start-up job, so Benji lets him bankroll them both. Rent, utilities—everything. I love Benji to death, but he's a giant mooch."

"Shit, that must be nice."

Angelique shrugged. She stood back to appraise Mary's look.

"It's fucking lame. But it least it gets us fucking paid."

Mary didn't say I'd do this for free. Instead, he struck a pose and said, "I'm just happy for the exposure."

Angelique rolled her eyes and went to fetch Greg.

***

That year and a half would become a nonstop party with Mary as one of the VIPs; he wouldn't say no to anything—be it casual sex, club appearances, or whatever drug the current pretty thing was offering him in the bathroom.

But recognition started slow.

At first, it was customers who would leaf through the zine and recognize Mary.

Then, it was the occasional scenester who’d stop him on the street in JP as he walked about, and Mary would pose for grainy cell phone pics.

Soon, he was being approached at shows and clubs. The first time it happened, Mary was high off his new infamy and ready to please. A woman in a black bandage bra and pleated skirt with bondage straps approached him, and Mary was already thinking of what he could do with those.

"You look like that guy in ‘Heroes’!" she'd shouted to him over the music.

Mary had flashed her a crooked smile and leaned in.

"Maybe I am the guy in ‘Heroes’."

She'd given him an exaggerated once over before sidling closer with hooded eyes.

"I dunno…you're wearing way more clothes."

Mary had pulled his mesh top down by the collar in a tease as he'd curled over her.

"Take me somewhere more private and I’ll let you do a comparison."

She'd compared him all night.

And that was before he and the other "Heroes" models formed their own posse.

The Bens had thrown a BBQ and had invited everyone they'd ever met. There were people packed into their little 2 bedroom in Brighton, spilling down the back stairs, and equally packed into the little square of shared backyard. Ben had taken the 12-pack of 'Gansett beers Mary had brought, then introduced him to the other dark models.

"Now you're all here!" said Ben. He slung his arm around Mary. "Guys, this is Mary. Mary this is Mayhem, Lesley, Lola, and Bryan."

Mayhem was a rivethead, and Mary took to him instantly, but he was wary of the others. Lesley was the cybergoth who'd been in the first issue after him, and Mary still felt a bit salty at them, even though Mary knew by now the Bens rotated the models. Lola, the romantic goth, reminded him enough of Vanity that he felt guilty for losing touch with her and had him projecting a little. Bryan was a metalhead, so: competition.

Mary had thought they'd get along like cats and water, but weed, booze, and "Never Have I Ever" went a long way to creating a shared bond.

And there it was again. That pull. The magnetic force telling him that he'd found the place he was supposed to be. They quickly coalesced into their own pack, calling themselves the "Deathbutantes" (because they always killed it when they debuted for the night).

It had been rare for Mary to miss Friday and Saturday night shenanigans with the Rocky crew, but now, every night was Friday night. There was always a show or a concert or club that one of them knew about—and if they couldn't get lucky with the local color, they'd just go home with each other.

Mayhem taught Mary what Lola jokingly called the "grab a bat" dance, and the two of them cut quite the picture on the dance floors.

Lesley took to Lola, and the two of them could always be counted on for scintillating conversation in dark corners when Mary's limbst needed a break from flailing about.

The clubs weren't really Bryan's scene—take him to a sticky hole in the wall with concrete floors and a stage close enough to feel the sweat from the bands, and he was in heaven—but he liked to come along to hang. He'd drink PBRs, rub Lola's feet when she invariably abandoned her heels for the evening, and argue with Mary about the purity of death metal.

Mayhem and Lola weren't really into live music of the screaming kind, so—while Lesley, Bryan, and Mary bounced off each other in the mosh pits—they'd save a "home" base at one the bartops.

Amber noticed Mary's diminishing presence and stopped by the record shop to call him out.

"So you're not dead! Could've fooled me."

Mary was organizing the albums into order, and he grunted at her.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. I'm a cad. I'll make it up to you."

"You missed game night."

"Sorry. Jethro Tull played some tiny venue in nowhere Mass, and Bryan was salivating. I mean, Jethro Tull. Can you blame me?"

He looked at her, arms out wide in supplication. But she just blinked at him.

"You have no idea who Jethro Tull is, do you?"

"Sorry, dude. But christ, Mare. You should have invited me. I'd've gone. Maybe I would have even liked them. Now you'll never know."

"I could just lend you an album."

"Nope! The moment passed. Too late!"

Mary riffled through the stock and shoved a Jethro Tull CD into her hands.

She tapped it against her thigh.

"So, when do I get to hang?"

"I can get us into 80s night free."

"No, I mean, with your cooler friends. Your 'murder models', or whatever."

"You wanna hang out with the Deathbutantes?"

Amber scrunched her nose.

"That's so fucking pretentious."

Mary kind of liked it.

"Dunno if they're really your scene."

"Oh? And what's my scene?"

"Musical theater on crack."

She mock gasped at him, "Called out!" before smacking him with the CD. "Whatever. You love musical theater on crack."

Mary draped his arm around her shoulders.

"Yeah, I do. But I don't live it, you know? You guys have your niche—and fuck…I love to visit—but it's not mine."

Amber looked up at him, her expression serious.

"So the Dumbutantes are your niche?"

Mary shrugged and went back to shelving.

The Rocky crew had been good to him. They'd taken him under their wing, no questions asked, and helped him realize things about himself. Tim had taken him to the ER when Mary had come down with a serious case of the flu. Matty had taught him the basics of sewing. Gretchen had held him after a bad trip. Omar and he had had many drunken heart-to-hearts about their shitty home lives.

And Amber was his best friend. She'd been his #1 cheerleader for years and had never been afraid to call him out on his shit.

So yeah, he loved the Rocky crew…but they laughed at anyone who took anything too seriously. Mary would show up to game nights in his latest creation—with everyone else in pjs or jeans & hoodies—and they'd tease him about trying to impress the wrong people. He'd try to talk about the newest guitar god he'd been mainlining, and they'd make snoring noises at him.

How could he explain the kinship he felt with the Deathbutantes? That they were as serious about music as he was, that they just…got why he felt the need to dress the way he did to express the way he felt inside on his outside.

Instead, he said, "I'm just trying shit out, Ambs." He quirked his eyebrow at her. "I gotta do something while you guys do your real-person jobs."

(Amber had recently started as a junior marketing assistant at the American Repertory Theater. "Purely mercenary," she'd said. "Maybe it'll give me a leg up during auditions.")

She made a disgruntled scoffing noise in the back of her throat.

"Fuck, don't remind me. I actually gotta go to bed a reasonable hour now."

"Don't worry." Mary winked at her. "I'll keep ya honest."

"That sounds a lot like my head in a toilet, Mare."

"I'll hold your hair back."

She gave him a good-natured shove, and he pretended to cower.

If she wanted to cross pollinate, who was Mary to stand in her way? So, he invited her out the next time the Deathbutantes went to a show, and it went exactly like he thought it would.

They disliked her, and she was equally unimpressed. They thought she was too loud and frenetic, and she thought they had no sense of humor.

"I fucking told you," Mary had snorted as they sat on the curb sharing a clove.

"Shut the fuck up, Mare."

But she'd put her head on his shoulder.

"They make you happy, though. So I guess I approve. Just as long as I don't have to play nice."

Mary still hung out with the Rocky crew—there were still game nights and drug-fueled sex parties and theater games—but the Deathbutantes introduced him to the underground scene. They always seemed to have insider knowledge about the best up-in-coming bands and the secret shows. Theme nights at the goth clubs were always a must, and they rarely missed one. Sometimes, Angelique would crash, and they'd take the commuter rail to Providence to party at Club Hell before collapsing in a sweaty, smeary pile at a friend of a friend's hole in the wall.

As a bit player in the Rocky crew, Mary had been another made-up face in the crowd. As a certified member of the Deathbutantes, Mary became the face.

They all did.

The owners loved them because they bought round after round at the bar, and if word got out that the Deathbutantes were there, their admirers came to spend money as well. The employees loved them because they were fun and talked to them as equals. The clientele loved them because they were pretty young things.

Sometimes, though, Mary wasn't in the mood to party or get laid, so he talked to the DJs instead. He'd buy them rounds and stay past closing to help them pack up while they talked about the history of punk and 80s new wave and nu metal. There was one in particular, Dave, that Mary even considered a friend.

The two of them would sit in the club past closing, sharing a whiskey and talking about life while the bartenders closed down and cashed out. Occasionally, Dave's other friends would be around, and they'd all walk back to his place; he'd fool around spinning in his home studio, and they'd drink box wine as they danced and laughed before Mary would have to sit on the ground in an intoxicated exhaustion, good for only thumbing through Dave's vinyl collection.

Mary was just happy to talk shop with another music aficionado, but Angelique had pointed out that he should leverage his minor clout.

They'd been waiting for Greg to finish setting up, and Mary had been struggle city after a particularly hard night out. It was all he could manage to sit there quietly and hope some god would put him out of his misery.

"You need to get your shit together," Angelique had said out of nowhere.

Mary had cracked a puffy eye and had slowly (as to not bring the nothing in his stomach back up) turned his head to her.

"As if I haven't seen your melted ass on the floor wanting to die."

"Fuck, Mary. You've turned it into an art form."

He'd closed his eyes and given her the finger, but that hadn't stopped her.

"You wanna be a rockstar, boy? You can't just sit on your ass and hope the right person on the right night hears you. You're effervescent and charismatic—heads turn when you walk into a room and not just because of your skinny jeans—but you need more than air, Mary, which is all you are right now."

"Fuck you, Angela."

She'd clapped in front of his face, and she was lucky he didn't Exorcist bile all over her.

"You're a fucking pain in my ass, Goore. I'm doling out the good stuff, try not to bite my hand off, k?"

"All right, all right!"

"You wanna start that band? You wanna get play and amass fans? Well, make that demo you're always droning on about and give it to those DJs you're alway fanboying over. Fucking network, Goore."

At the time, Mary had been too hungover to care, but her advice would sink in…

Eventually.

For the time being, Mary was content. He loved the attention, and it made him feel invincible, made him feel like it was finally His Time. And he was going to make up for every slight, every unfair situation, and every beat down with sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll.

With his newfound nightlife, Mary's day job had become an afterthought. He started sleeping through opening shifts, but with the extra foot traffic Mary brought to the store, his boss seemed resigned to let Mary slide (after a stern talking to and a pay docking).

The shadow cast had started using him as a mascot of sorts, and he was happy to show up on Saturday nights and hype up the waiting line with a pseudo striptease. (Even if it was sometimes to kick off his evening with the Deathbutantes and not hang with the cast after.)

Mary started a band ("auditioning" any and all of the many admirers who said they’d be more than happy to join it), and after a few false starts and a couple of lineup changes, they began working on an EP. (At least, when Mary showed up to rehearsal, they did.)

A Boston Phoenix reporter got wind of the Deathbutantes and called around about doing a story on them. The Bens were excited about the exposure that meant for their zine, and Angelique and Greg were excited about what it could mean for their careers. Mary did a brief interview over the phone where he answered questions about his style and talked about his dream of making his band a household name.

Mary saw his name up in lights, and he was reaching for it, full speed ahead.

But then things turned.

The story fell through at the last minute with no further explanation or contact by the reporter.

His boss finally fired him after Mary showed up too high to function too many times—or not at all.

The shadow cast had a turnover, and suddenly he was old news—a cringey hanger-on.

A trip to the clinic and a round of antibiotics for an STI had him way more wary of who he hooked up with.

"Heroes" lost momentum when imitators popped up and Ben cut off the gravy train.

Angelique moved to NYC for "better opportunities," and the Bens took their brand of counterculture to Portland, OR.

Greg took down the website when he got offered a legit job as an apprentice at a food magazine, and that was that.

The physical zines were cheap things, most ending up papering the sidewalk after trash day or lining the bottom of cages. Without the online presence, did Mary's "modeling career" even exist?

Mary was a little sad to see the era go, but when he woke up in Maine on the hood of some girl's car and only a hazy recollection of how they'd gotten there, he was beginning to see Angelique's point. He needed to get his shit together if he was ever going to become a rockstar. And frankly, he kind of felt like he needed to spend an entire month eating carrots and hydrating.

The 24/7 party had always been an ephemeral thing; it had been sand passing through his hands in a finite amount as he'd tried to hold onto it

He put himself on detox, and waking up sober for the first time in months felt like a revelation. And as it turned out, playing the guitar without badly shaking hands was way, way easier.

He found another job in another music store, and his starter!band was bringing butts into the smaller venues, like Toad.

He still had his old Rocky friends and the Deathbutantes. The club and venue owners still let him in for free, and Dave was always happy to give his demos a spin. By anyone's else's measure, he was steal one of the scene's darlings.

But Mary was beginning to realize that he needed to stop seeing himself as that scared kid who’d arrived in Boston 4 years ago with only a backpack, $72.57 to his name, and void where his family should be.

He needed to stop finding people to please into loving him.

Instead, he needed to live for himself and let them love him for who he was—fuck ups and all.

@slimylayne

Epilogue

"Honestly, that’s probably the reason I even got a band together," he says. "I was still kind of shit at guitar, but people came to see ‘Model Mary’ perform in his underwear."

He shoots me a smirk.

"I’m sure there’re pictures out there of me looking more glam than metal. I kind of played up the whole pinup thing for a while."

"Fuck, I would kill, literally kill to see that."

He pulls me into his lap until I’m straddling him.

"I could open up my underwear drawer and show you right now."

"Goore, you temptress."

I lean down to kiss him, and his hands sneak under my shirt, but I pull away again.

"I kinda thought I knew all your torrid secrets by now. Shit, how come Dave's never needled you about it?"

After 2 years with him, I’m surprised I hadn't even heard a peep from his oldest friend.

Mary snorts.

"Dave would miss shit hanging off his nose. Great dude, amiable as fuck, but he's always had fucking tunnel vision for his music."

I smirk at him.

"Sounds like someone else I know."

Mary pulls a face at me, and I apply kisses to every line until he laughs and bats me away.

"But really, Mare—how come you never told me about your brief career in blue steel?"

He blows out a breath, his hands smoothing up my thighs.

"Fuck. Cuz maybe I was a little embarrassed at how off the rails I was then, ok? Didn't want you to know what I fuck up I was." He takes my hand and kisses my palm. "And even I know it's a shit move to pitch woo at someone by telling them about banging half of Boston."

I make a face at him, and he laughs.

"Yeah, that’s what I thought."

His hands rest on my waist.

"Christ, everything about that year's a bit fuzzy, and it was like 10 years ago. Sometimes it feels like it happened to someone else, honestly. And shit—most of those people aren’t even around anymore. College kids who moved on and 20-somethings that grew up and moved who knows where. I used to watch Amber have—what is it when it’s four people?—and now she lives in bumblefuck Pennsylvania with 3 kids. After she left, I just kinda drifted away from all that."

He shrugs, his eyes downcast.

"I’m sorry, Mare," I say as I smooth his eyebrows.

He shrugs again.

"I mean, we all kinda keep in touch. It's like the only reason I have Facebook."

"When was the last time you even signed into that?"

Mary grins at me.

"Lola's birthday."

"One of the models? What happened with them?"

Mary bites his lip and thinks.

"Mayhem found religion after an OD and kinda ghosted everyone. Lesley followed a girl to New Hampshire. Uh…Lola pursued a PhD for something sciencey involving renewable energy with sugar beets in Idaho, and Bryan moved back to Florida to care for his grandma, who raised him."

Mary leans his head back on the couch and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

"I mean, shit. We were fucking babies back then. Head empty except for a good time and unlimited potential."

I run my fingers through his hair.

"You miss it?"

His eyes pop open to look at me.

"Fuck no. Not for a million dollars. Too many question marks." His eyes glint as he runs his hands down me. "I like what I got going on right here."

I wrap my arms around his shoulders and kiss his forehead. The fucking sap.

Mary picks up my phone and scrolls through the pictures again.

"Fuck. I used to be goddamn adorable, though. Half this shit wouldn’t even fit me anymore."

I squish his little potbelly, and he grunts at me indignantly.

"Do you still have any originals?" I ask.

He shakes his head, his eyes wistful and his smile sad.

"Nah. Got destroyed when my roof collapsed and leaked everywhere. Fuck, landlords are useless. Glad we fucking own now, babe."

He scrolls up, scrolls back down.

"Just these four?"

I nod.

"Yeah. They were the only ones I found—and I did a lot of searching."

"Christ, I think there were at least 10."

I smile ruefully at him. "It’s not gonna be long anyway before they make their way into the popular tags and shit starts coming out of the woodwork."

He tosses my phone onto the table.

"Whatever. Just shows that I’ve always been cool."

And then he’s kissing me again, his hand tangling in my hair.

"You know, I’m your family now, Mare. Just for you."

He brings my hand up and kisses it.

"Fuck, I know that. Why’dja think I put a ring on it?"

#mary goore #longfic #gender neutral insert #aurelio voltaire

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flaggermousseart · 3 years

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creator tag meme

@knifeears said anyone could snatch it up, so here I am, snatching

rules: it’s time to love yourselves! choose your 5 (ish) favorite works you created in the past year (fics, art, edits, etc.) and link them below to reflect on the amazing things you brought into the world in 2020. tag as many writers/artists/etc. as you want (fan or original) so we can spread the love and link each other to awesome works!

#1 The Kiss in the Shrieking Shack

It’s almost a year since I made this, but I’m still very satisfied with it. I managed to make a lot of background with several layers of shadows. This was a very simple idea: just make one change to the canon scene. I added the canon dialogue from the scene in the tumblr post, and I didn’t need to change a single word, and that still makes me grin. My favourite panel is one of the last ones, where they just stare at each other, I’m very satisfied with that picture in particular, especially Sirius’ expression. This comic exploded in popularity more than I could have imagined. I am thrilled so many people enjoy it.

#2 November 1st 1993

Sticking to the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, making a scene with just the teachers. I just like what I managed to show with the dialogue and the art here. In canon, Snape seems to think Remus Lupin isn’t trustworthy because of his past history with Sirius Black, as we can see from his talk with Dumbledore at Halloween, and the things he says in the Shrieking Shack. I just took that, and made it a romantic/sexual history. Snape’s not outing him as a werewolf, instead it’s another painful secret he pokes at.

Also satisfied with Minerva and Remus’ short conversation; he didn’t help his ex into Hogwarts, and she believes him, but at the same time … Remus IS hiding one BIG secret (the fact that Sirius became an Animagus to help Remus through hard times) that quite IS possibly at least part of how he got onto the school grounds. Ah. Guilt.

The last picture took me ages. I made the poster, and then copied and tweaked and drew tears and holes in them, piecing it all together in a ton of layers. I kept the file of the posters, and ended up reusing it in a different comic later.

#3 Nightmare

Still in the Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline, when everyone thought Sirius was a murderous traitor. Parts of this comic are a bit uneven. I spot some issues with the size of people’s eyes in certain frames. But it’s mostly about the atmosphere and emotions, and I think that worked well here.

I always like drawing Sirius’ ‘straight outta Azkaban’-look; dressed in rags and long messy hair. Here I had a lot of fun working on making him creepy, both with dialogue and the way he acts. As if he really was a loyal servant of Voldemort, not giving a damn about the deaths he’s responsible for … and any romantic tones are messed up and possessive, as if he had intended to keep Remus like a pet once Voldemort took over.

This is basically all about creepy atmosphere and how Remus never got the therapy he needed after the war.

#4 Picking up the Pieces

This was the year I started writing fanfiction. I love reading it, but never dared to write and put it out there before. I worried I wasn’t good enough, that I didn’t understand characters well enough … but once I dipped back into my obsession with HP (this is one of the fandoms that is always in the back of my mind, even if others things take the front seat), I ended up trying. I feel comfortable with this world; I feel I know it well enough to try and make something within it, even without my art as a crutch.

Picking up the Pieces is an AU where Sirius gets a trial and ends up raising Harry together with Remus. I love this type of AU, because there’s the happiness of a better childhood for Harry, contrasted with the war they came out of, and the people they lost.

The Trial took a lot of work, but I wanted to try and do it justice. I love working in details of the world, and reread and reread the canon we know to try and piece it all together, and drag in just about all I could think of that could be used as proof for and against Sirius.

Both that part, and Wolfsbane are Outsider POV from minor canon characters, and I absolutely love Outsider POV. I liked fleshing out Damocles Belby, and make his research into the Wolfsbane potion more emotional.

We need to talk about the snakes is basically a slice of life episode focusing on Harry’s magical powers starting to appear, and with some special skills his godparents never suspected he had. I enjoyed peppering background about their life together into this, and it is one of those stories where the audience that knows canon understands what’s happening, but the characters don’t; and I enjoy that.

I still have ideas for Picking up the Pieces, so hopefully, there will be some more in this series.

#5 Rumours

Aaand right back to Prisoner of Azkaban-timeline! (yes it is my favourite HP-book, why are you asking?) This little fic has much in common with #1 and #2. It is basically a canon scene that I did a little bit of tweaking to. It deals with the rumours that have started to spread around the school about how professor Lupin used to date Sirius Black years back.

It’s short, but I liked writing Harry in this; his thoughts on those rumours, both at the beginning and end of the fic. It sticks to Harry’s POV like how the book canon is presented, and again there’s how we the readers know things the characters does not.

#bonus

I just think this unicorn is rad.

I tag @kattlupin, @engie-ivy and anyone else that wants to do it. Show us what you’ve made this year!

#creator tag meme #not art #it's okay to be happy with things we've made #Wolfstar

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gourmade4u · 4 years

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Start at the basics

Kitchen Essentials

If you’re just starting out, what are some essential tools and tips to keep in mind while you’re working away at your best Gordon Ramsey duplicate?

Well, for starters, you need to make sure that your kitchen has the necessary base in which to build from.

TL;DR- Chef’s knife, rubber spatula, whisk, pans (all types are neatly listed below the picture with the whisk and rubber spatulas), glass mixing bowls, kevlar or other cut-resistant gloves, metal spatula, cutting boards, electric thermometer, colander, box grater, and a timer (if you don’t have a microwave or oven that has one).

First thing’s first:

A Chef’s knife. I purchased mine from Ergo Chef (not an affiliate, I’m just a huge fan). From the moment my hand touched this knife, I cried literal happy tears from the depths of my soul. If you have arthritis issues, or issues that cause your hands to swell or lock up from consistent use, an ergonomically designed knife is incredibly important. For those of you just starting, my first knife set was a Farberware set with a wooden block from Walmart. It was a 20 piece knife set with steak knives and it was less than 90 dollars. But take the time to invest in your knives, you’ll be grateful that you did.

I’ll post in a separate article how to sharpen your knife, but do keep in mind to NEVER, hold on, let me bold this, NEVER: run your knives or single knife through the dishwasher, and/or leave them in the sink. After you finish using your knife, it is best if you wash and dry it immediately to keep it from rusting. Your knives will thank you, and so will your wallet.

A rubber spatula.

So, this little guy is the absolute best. He will help you toast rice for your risotto, spoon out that perfect pan sauce that took you way too many tries to get it exactly the way you wanted, AND he'll make sure that all your batter makes it into the pan, or your mouth, whichever you prefer.

A whisk. So yes, a whisk is incredibly versatile. You can use it to scramble eggs, make meringue, mayo, vinaigrette, and bake that cake you’re gonna regret in a week.

PANsexuality is important. But it has nothing to do with this next list of pans.

Non-stick pan

10 in. stainless steal or ceramic pan

Cast iron pan (or 3)

Sauce pot (if you're like me, you have 6)

Griddle pan (not pictured... yet)

Sheet pan

Casserole

Each and every one of these serves a unique purpose.

A non-stick is great for eggs, bacon, frittatas (which are fancy eggs), and so many other items that I promise aren't just breakfast food.

A ceramic pan is wonderful, but in my personal opinion, a stainless steel is better if you're a novice. A ceramic pan requires a lot of spoons (energy) and maintenance. They scratch easily if you look at them the wrong way. But they are great for more even cooking than a stainless, and make the best pork chops. Stainless steel isn’t as hard to work with, isn’t as high maintenance (though, like knives, NEVER put them in your dishwasher), is ideal for crusting your steak, and making a pan sauce with the remaining bits.

A cast iron pan evenly distributes heat and you can put it in the oven at 500 degrees without worrying about warping or damage to your pan. Cast iron is also fantastic if you don’t want to use as much fat in your pan to keep your items from sticking. Also, you can’t get a crust on a steak in any other pan, the way you do in a cast iron. Also, don’t put this in the dishwasher.

A sauce pot sounds like an unnecessary necessity. I’ll explain, when most people hear “sauce” pot, they get very confused because there are like, 30 types. This is an exaggeration, but there are a lot of types. A large saucepot can hold from 1 qt. to 5 qts. I always recommend getting a 5 qt. pot because you can use it for small amounts and large amounts. But the best advice I can give would be to get one that can hold at least 2 c of liquid, and also one that can hold 5 qts so you’re not making oatmeal for yourself in a pot that’s too big.

A Griddle pan is more of a luxury item, but I always recommend having one in your kitchen. You can make your best pancakes, arepas, bacon, grilled cheese, tuna melt, etc. It’s honestly a great tool to have on hand if you want to whip something up quickly.

A sheet pan is important for so many reasons. You can make cookies, cake, bacon (I know I’ve said about 2 of the others already), roasted veggies, etc. I definitely recommend having at least one on hand. You’ll find that you’ve allowed yourself to enjoy brussel sprouts smothered in parmesan cheese, and roasted cauliflower with garam masala and ginger for the first time ever. Just trust me, your oven is made for a varying amount of possibilities, and the right tools can get you started.

A baking dish/pan/casserole, whatever you want to call it, it’s a huge piece of either: cast iron, ceramic, glass, or clay that can be covered and it will, much like your sheet pan, allow for new ideas in the kitchen. Casserole is a very common word used by mostly older women from the south, but they aren’t just a dish your grandma cooked in the 50′s. French toast casserole is so impossibly custardy and delicious, you will thank the Gods that there has ever been something so wonderful in existence. You have stews, roasts, lasagna (uncovered, don’t be rude to your lasagna), and so many others. Just please, okay? Okay.

Glass mixing bowls are a MUST. Okay, so some really important things about these bad boys: DON’T leave them on a hot stove because the heat will make them shatter and explode all over your kitchen. If you have pets or kids, I don’t have to tell you why this would be bad for potentially weeks on end. You can, however, makeshift a glass bowl and a boiling pot of water into a double boiler to melt your favorite chocolate chips to make fudge. Glass bowls are also non-absorbent, so they won’t retain bad odors or flavors when you use them in the kitchen. They’re also incredibly sanitary for the same reason.

A pair of Kevlar or other gloves meant for slicing and dicing in the kitchen. I recommend this no matter what level of experience you have. Professional chefs cut and burn themselves all the time, it is best you do what you can to protect your fingertips and nails.

A metal spatula will help you scrape any bits and pieces that have stuck onto your stainless or ceramic pan. Please be sure to use carefully, the metal spatula itself is very temperamental and can ruin your pans forever.

Cutting boards. There are, a whole litany of reasons you need a cutting board or 10 in your kitchen. I myself have 4 and I use all of them. Cutting boards are made of several different kinds of material. Ultimately, for me, I use a wooden one and an eco-friendly material cutting board set I got from Bed Bath and Beyond. Cutting board maintenance is, arguably, the most important thing when it comes to purchasing one. Best way to clean a cutting board is to make sure you’re passing your sponge over the slits in the board left behind by your knife, in the same direction. In other words, don’t scrub your board in a circle, but trace over the cuts in the board to ensure proper sanitation of it.

An electric thermometer. Okay, so show of hands, how many people have deep fried chicken, burned the outside and undercooked the inside? I don’t know of any single person who is just beginning, who hasn’t done it. An electric thermometer is your best friend. You can get a regular thermometer, that will require constant calibration, or you can get an electric thermometer and not have to worry about calibrating it as often. Perfectly juicy, succulent, and properly cooked chicken will measure at 165 degrees Farenheit. Anything beyond 180, expect it to be dry, but at least it was cooked properly! To calibrate a thermometer: bring water to a boil, and then place your thermometer in the water, allow it to come to 212 degrees Fahrenheit, then place your thermometer into an ice bath until it gets to 32 degrees Fahrenheit. Celsius would be 100 degrees boiling, and 0 degrees in ice.

A colander is meant to strain out pasta water, and you’ve probably not seen it used for much else. But a fine mesh colander can be used to filter out your frying oil so you can reuse it instead of wasting it. This little thing is good for anything that requires draining: meat, starch from rice and potatoes before cooking them, washing all of your vegetables at once before getting started, and also, it can help with steaming your broccoli or shrimp when you don’t have a basket steamer.

A box grater in general, is a fantastic tool. They have different sides that allow you to do different things. From shredding cheese, potatoes, carrots, or zuccini. But the question a lot of people ask: what is that side with all the really tiny spaces in it? It’s a zester, and it goes so unnoticed for so long because most folx don’t know the best way to use it. The zester is great for adding a little elegance or pop of flavor into a dish. For example, if you use lemon pepper often, adding a zested lemon rind to your dish would bring out all that delicious acidity that you won’t get from just using the regular seasoning from a bottle. A little fresh lemon zest here, some grated nutmeg there, a little orange zest in your tea, these all pack a mean right hook. Try them out.

Last, but not least: a timer, gentlefolx. I can not stress the utter importance of learning how long it actually takes you, the reader to complete a task from start to finish. Not everyone works at the same pace, so a recipe that says “prep time: 5 minutes”, might actually take you an hour, and that’s okay. Keeping a timer on hand so you can keep track of how long each task is taking to complete, or making sure you’re pacing yourself as things are bubbling away in the kitchen, is a great way to figure yourself out in the kitchen. I recommend listening to music, writing your ingredients on a white board that sits at eye level in your kitchen so you can refer to your recipe as you’re going without having to constantly look at your phone.

I hope this helps every single one of you learn a bit more about what it means to begin your journey with food.

#Gourmade4u #kitchen essentials #cooking for beginners #Food blog #kitchen tools #getting started #cooking #food #foodporn #amateur chef #chef #food article #trans pride #lgbtq support

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thankskenpenders · 5 years

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So there’s this little cartoon you may have heard of...

As I’ve said on this blog before, I’d never watched all of SatAM. This might be shocking to hear from someone who runs a blog dedicated to Archie Sonic and one of the top twenty Bunnie Rabbot fangirls in the world. But it’s true.

SatAM was very difficult to track down compared to other Sonic cartoons when I was a kid, and I just never got around to watching it as an adult. So for the longest time, I had only ever seen the first episode, which I found uploaded in parts on YouTube in 2007. As the one cartoon featuring the characters I liked from the comics, it became sort of this holy grail of Sonic media for me as a kid, especially with people online always talking it up as the best thing ever and petitioning for a revival. Hell, to this day, a lot of people hold it up as this masterpiece and act like the Archie comics were a complete mockery of it

Anyway so I finally got around to watching the whole series with my boyfriend these past couple weeks, and it was pretty good. So instead of covering a comic today, here are some thoughts on the cartoon that started it all

General Thoughts

SatAM is a pretty good show. It isn’t the greatest piece of Sonic media ever, unlike what some older fans will tell you. It might not even be the best Sonic cartoon (you could easily make a case for the Japanese version of Sonic X, or Sonic Boom if you’re looking for something more comedic). It hasn’t aged the most gracefully, in some ways. The animation’s cheap, the stories sometimes bland. But for a DiC-produced video game cartoon from the early ‘90s, it’s really solid

I think that in many ways, SatAM is carried by the strength of its ideas over its actual execution. The darker, more serious tone is a really cool idea, even if at times it can get a little dull, and even if the show actually gets silly as hell pretty often. (This is a show where Snively literally tortures a captive Antoine by preparing French cuisine improperly.) That opening scene of Robotropolis in the first episode actually sets the mood really well and feels like it came straight out of some cyberpunk anime from the ‘80s or ‘90s. The concept of Robotnik turning people into robot slaves is really cool, even if surprisingly little was done with this aside from Uncle Chuck’s storyline. And I think the Freedom Fighters make a great supporting cast for Sonic, even if the writers didn’t use them to their full potential

Interestingly, I’d often heard from fans that season one was the stronger of the two, when I’d say that the opposite is true. Season one episodes were pretty samey, usually involving low stakes missions to Robotropolis with no real continuity, and Sally ended up being a damsel in distress more than I’d like--hell, so did Bunnie in a few episodes. It wasn’t bad, but it was highly repetitive, and I got a little bored at times. Season two had a few real stinkers (the Antoine episodes) and Dulcy was an unwelcome addition, but I thought the heavier focus on continuity gave the season some real momentum and more emotional weight, which made it way more enjoyable overall

Things I Liked

Sonic. I quite liked this version of Sonic, actually! Jaleel White is a great Sonic, and he was written pretty well. At times the extremely tubular ‘90s lingo was grating (I never wanna hear “Gotta juice!” again), but I was surprised to see that this version of Sonic had a lot of heart. He really cared about the well-being of his friends and Uncle Chuck, and they even let him cry a couple times. I thought they struck a good balance between snark and sincerity with him

Sally. I don’t think SatAM Sally was perfect, but I liked her. I’m still of the opinion that she should have been given more ways to defend herself physically (maybe some kind of power of her own) so that Sonic didn’t have to save her as much, but I liked the banter she and Sonic had. Unlike the early Archie comics, Sally doesn’t come off as the bossy girlfriend who ruins Sonic’s fun. Maybe it’s Jaleel White and Kath Soucie’s performances doing most of the work, but they had a fun back and forth dynamic, with Sally’s sarcasm keeping Sonic’s ego in check, but there still being clear chemistry between the two of them

I also liked the greatly reduced emphasis on her being a princess compared to much of Archie’s material. Like yeah, it’s there. Her dad’s the king, and left her some classified info via Nicole. But her status doesn’t really affect things much. They don’t talk about her having this grand destiny and being the next in line to rule. It’s clear that she’s in charge of the Freedom Fighters not because of her status, but because she’s smart, brave, and gets shit done. That’s the Sally I like.

Plus! In the finale, Sally insisted upon going with Sonic for the final confrontation, and was a crucial part of the climax. Her powering up with Sonic and matching his speed and strength ruled. Compare that to the climactic defeat of Robotnik in Archie, where she was fucking dead

Robotnik. I don’t think much needs to be said here. Jim Cummings rules as Robotnik, like everyone has always said. He’s just so evil and so much fun to watch

Snively??? I’ve never cared for Snively as a character, but Charlie Adler rules and his over-the-top performance made the character way funnier than he should’ve been. Just something about all the little noises he makes, and the way he almost shifts into the Red Guy voice at times

Nicole. It was fun to see Nicole start to get more of a personality in season two, having some banter with Sonic and also picking up some slang from him. It makes the later decision to turn Sally’s computer into a full character (which would have happened in season three, and obviously eventually became a big subplot in the comics) make a lot of sense

King Acorn. While he was only around briefly, I liked that he wasn’t a huge dick, unlike Archie’s King Max

Things I Didn’t Like

The misuse of the other Freedom Fighters. This is, by far, the show’s greatest crime.

I already write approximately 100k words a week on this blog about how I think Bunnie Rabbot is amazing and criminally underused, so I’ll keep this brief, but I was shocked to see how little she was used in this show. People tend to say Dulcy stole her screentime in season two, but she didn’t have much to do in the first season either! We somehow never got a single episode focusing on her. The one where she got temporarily deroboticized focused much more on Uncle Chuck. We never got to learn the story behind her roboticization, or delved into her feelings on the matter much. She mostly just served as a positive, lighthearted supporting member of the team who acts cute and gets some funny lines, but usually stays home

Antoine might have been even worse, honestly. Like, they used him so much! They had multiple episodes focusing entirely on him! And yet I’m not sure he ever really helped. Sonic and Sally kept taking him along, but every single time it felt like it would’ve been a wiser decision to bring Bunnie instead. The jokes about his broken English were just dumb, and god, the way he constantly hits on Sally and starts kissing her hand at the most inappropriate times is just SO fucking creepy. SatAM Antoine is just a horrible, one-dimensional stereotype. There’s a reason why readers of the Archie comics wanted him out of the series until later writers majorly rehabilitated him

Rotor also didn’t get much use, which was a shame, but it at least felt like he was used efficiently. I got the vibe that Rotor was much more bitter about the war with Robotnik than his friends, and it would’ve been interesting to see this explored more. At least we got that one fun episode where he went to space with Sonic

Dulcy. Oh my fucking god. I wanted to like Dulcy! I really did! But most of the time she was just a clutz used for comic relief, and they kept reusing the same joke where she crashed, bumped her head, got dizzy, and thought she was talking to her mom. This happened in almost every episode she was in.

The other miscellaneous Freedom Fighters. Like in the early Archie comics, none of the other miscellaneous Mobians they meet were as interesting as the core cast. They just always felt very bland and I was never as invested in them as the writers wanted me to be. Ari was boring, and that episode where they found the underground city and this other dude started hitting on Sally was a drag. Lupe’s cute though

Rings. This is a common problem in Sonic adaptations, but the fact that rings always serve as Sonic’s instant win button kind of sucks. Basically any time Sonic’s in a pinch, he pulls a ring out of his backpack, powers up, and wins. Not exactly a recipe for suspenseful action

Oh, also, I did kinda find it weird how much Sonic and Sally kissed? Like, all the time? Often while their friends just stand there and stare at them? Not something I’d expect from a Sonic cartoon

Things Archie Did Better

I’ll limit this to the first 50 issues or so, since I don’t think it would be fair to compare two short seasons of SatAM to the highlights of nearly 500 issues of comics

Tails. Tails is okay in SatAM, Archie just used him as Sonic’s sidekick way more. He was barely even in the show. Poor little guy only gets to play dirt hockey all day

Bunnie. Again, Bunnie was underutilized in both series, but the Archie comics did her better. They actually showed the story of how she got roboticized (even if it was a silly story), and they got to flesh her out a bit more. Gallagher showing that she was a carrot farmer before her roboticization and saying she wanted to be a hairdresser was at least something. And as I keep harping on, Rich Koslowski’s backup story in #37 where we find out Bunnie has recurring nightmares about her robot parts taking over and making her a threat to her friends? This single backup story did more to flesh her out than all 26 episodes of SatAM combined

Antoine. Not hard to do better than SatAM here, really. He was really bad early on, serving as little more than Sonic’s punching bag, but eventually they started to set up a romance between him and Bunnie and explored his past a bit, saying that Antoine’s father (his personal role model) was a member of the royal guard who was roboticized in the war. While he still had a long way to go, these were important first steps towards him being a decent character. Hell, these days, being Bunnie’s love interest is one of Antoine’s defining characteristics! And it doesn’t come from the cartoon at all

Roboticization in general. I was surprised how little this came up in the cartoon! In the comics, it’s such a central element. We see more of the heroes’ loved ones turned into robots, and we even got some fun stories where characters like Sonic and Sally were roboticized temporarily. The Freedom Fighters’ efforts to reverse the process was a major part of the plot for quite a while. Bunnie’s fear of losing control is a pretty important part of her character (even if it was only touched on briefly), and after they’re rescued, the rest of the Mobians fear that the “Robians” (including Sonic’s entire family) will turn evil again. It comes up a lot! There are interesting things to discuss here! But SatAM only really talks about Uncle Chuck. We never even see what happened to everyone else

Closing Thoughts

SatAM is not the best show in the world, but it is a solid and enjoyable one. It’s easy to see why people who grew up with it are fond of it, even if I think that it’s long past time certain fans quit acting like it’s the only valid take on the Sonic source material and petitioning for a third season. At the very least, the concepts and characters introduced here are strong ones, and it’s easy to see how they spawned over 20 years of comics exploring said ideas in greater detail. While I’m not sure I could recommend it to non-fans, I think it’s definitely worth checking out for Sonic fans who missed out on it (especially fans of the Archie comics)

Anyway I got to see Bunnie dropkick some Swatbots twice her height so I had fun

#tkp post #other media

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tycoons-official · 5 years

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♛Ｔｙｃｏｏｎｓ♛

.•♫•♬•ＡｌｂｕｍＤｅｔａｉｌｓ•♫•♬•.

• Tycoons' self-titled debut album 'Tycoons The Album' was released on the 3rd of January, 2017, 07:00AM KST.

• JYP released two trailers for the music video a month prior to the release date, however they didn't attract too much attention as they were first advertised like regular ads that would appear on most YouTube videos, sometimes even other JYP idols' music videos to maybe draw a bit more interest, as the trailers uploaded on JYP Entertainment's YouTube channel did not do so well as expected, at first. Although this, once the album and official music video came out, people started realizing that 'Tycoons' was actually a group and began drawing in a huge crowd.

• The album focuses a lot on storytelling, through music and lyrics, telling the day-to-day life of two siblings taking over their family's money wagering, illegal weapon dealing empire within the vast Mafia and how they run operations as well as the drama that will commence throughout half of the album.

• The album starts with catchy hip hop beats and dance/house trap drops, giving a sort of Stray Kids vibe to it. As the album goes on though, the lyrics and mood start to take on a more emotional tone and meaning. Just as the mood changes, Tyke and Carmen's [the Characters] lives are changing along with it.

• A majority of the songs in the album are written by both members of Tycoons [and the music video is also partially directed by them since the CEO was curious as to how this duo plans to start off their careers after training for a good amount of time] and most of the music [in the album and the music video] was also made and produced by Tycoons themselves.

• 'Tycoons: The Album' was a success, initially selling a total of 1.7 million copies in Korea and 1.65 million internationally within the first week and a half of so. But when the album began gaining some traction, the numbers spiked to 3.18 million copies in Korea and over 4.19 million copies internationally by early February.

.•♫•♬•Ｔｒａｃｋｌｉｓｔ•♫•♬•.

▄︻̷̿┻̿═━一 25 minutes & 20 seconds

• MAFIA

• 우리는 (We Are)

• Hands Up

• GSW

• Heir

• 만족하니? (Are You Satisfied?)

• Losing It

• Fire With Fire

• Outro: The End

.•♫•♬•ＳｏｎｇＡｎａｌｙｓｉｓ•♫•♬•.

1. MAFIA - ⏱ 4:05 - Title track

'MAFIA' is the title track of the album as well as the first track in the lineup of Tycoons' debut album. It is also the only song in the album that got a whole music video dedicated to it. Being that the album was written and co-produced by Tycoons themselves, they wanted this album to tell a story; to be the first chapter of their characters' stories and build up on their development as they evolve and grow in the music industry. They promoted the album, the title track and it's B-side heavily, going on several interviews, TV and music shows for 3 weeks straight, all at once [though Tycoons themselves quote en quote 'didn't mind the busy schedule, as they have been preparing all their trainee lives for this moment', courtesy of Carmen].

'MAFIA' is a song about the 'dangers' of the Mafia world and how they rose to the top with sheer resilience and smarts, as well as available weaponry and other form of utility such as soldiers. Tyke and Carmen the characters describe a glimpse in their life in a line taken from Carmen's rap verse:

'in this dangerous place

where Alphas roam wild

one shot dead in the streets

echoing cries for miles and miles

with blood dripping on their face

as they lie cold there like a stone

truly a beautiful chaos

this is home; how we live our lives'

The song is hits hard with a hip hop style dance beat, an interesting use of common synths, a fresh twist on melodies that are often used, heard and reused, and carries an intense tone throughout the whole song. Added to that the ranging high and low notes that Tyke hits, especially in the bridge, and Carmen's consistent deep growls in the rap verses. Said factors when merged create this harmonious yet unpredictable title track that would be considered 'perfect to set the tone', as Tyke puts it. Fans often compare this song to the style of Stray Kids' and BAP's music, and although some people say that this is the 'least JYP' JYP song ever according to some fans, Tycoons have confessed to have let the company add their flair to this song, so it's safe to say that it was an even game when it came to producing.

There were also special effects to the song to amp up it's chilling vibe. For example, throughout the song, there would be gunshot fire sounds inserted, as expected from a group with a dark concept, however fans pointed out that as the song reached it's climax, the shot sounds start condescending to the point where it even tricks some people into believing that there was an actual gun fired next to them, and therefore have them either scared or even more in love with the song. This effect however was not the only sound [or even visual] effect inserted into the track; in the official music video, Tycoons are shown to present almost everything you'd want in a perfect music video; great clothing choices, beautiful sets and decor, a nice harmony of dark and bright colors throughout, flattering camera angles and lighting, makeup and filters galore, only to then show the Characters' reality, showing various ruined sets littered with blood, dead bodies, empty bullet cannisters and bloody knives on the floors, yelps of pain, stab sounds and the final groans after getting shot, make the atmosphere even more spine chilling.

Critics praised this title track for it's unique concept, style and visuals, however they added that there could've been a more clear trigger warning before the MV starts, as it could easily trigger a younger audience. So to appease them, the company temporarily took the video down to add an extra 10 second trigger warning clip accompanied with a subtle rain sound effect that goes well with the beginning of the MV where Tyke and Carmen are seen walking through the gloom streets while it's raining.

2. 우리는 (We Are) - ⏱ 3:46 - B-side

'우리는' or 'We Are' in English is the next song in the tracklist as well as the album's B-side track. 우리는 Is mostly written by Tyke, therefore it's fairly vocal heavy for the most part, however he does give his sister Carmen the bridge and the last verse of the song to rap, but the rest is Tyke. It's a more story telling song that has a much softer, but more mysterious vibe to it. This song doubles as a deeper look into Tycoons' Characters' backstory as well as a song that shows off Tyke's light and clear contratenor voice with the occasional sassy run as well as stable vibratos and falsettos.

The song carries a nostalgic feeling, as if you've heard this song before some other place or time in your life, but not exactly in the way one'd originally think. It has a sad-ish tone, despite having happy nostalgia inducing guitar, piano, a variety of classical instruments, hip-hoppy snare and slightly lighter trap drops, that is meant to symbolize Tycoons' not-so-happy childhood that is the consequence of their family joining the Mafia.

Overall, the song has a fairly light hearted tune with variety and a nicer, clearer beat compared to it's title track, however if you look at the lyrics and analyze them, they hold a much darker meaning:

'you can't run

you can't hide

hold your breath

close your eyes

turn your ear to the sky

you're not safe here anymore

this is who we are, now

who we are, now'

The unsettlingness of the lyrics combined with the strategic classical orchestration make for a song that's meant to feel like, quote en quote 'a false security blanket that shields you from the actual good reality, or even a blindfold that makes you see everything in life with a different filter', courtesy of Tyke.

This song isn't exactly a favorite of the people, therefore dubbing it 'under appreciated' or 'underrated' by Capos, however critics applaud this song as much as it's title track for the same factors, but they have less critiques for this song as there wasn't any music video, however for some critics, the sense of false security and lack of straightforwardness was not exactly their cup of tea.

3. Hands Up - ⏱ 3:25 - Inizio

The third track in the album is titled 'Hands Up' and is the introduction to Carmen's [the character] personality and role in her and her brother's business. This track is mostly written by Carmen and contains mostly rap verses, with Tyke included briefly in the chorus, the bridge and as backing vocals to go with Carmen's raps. 'Hands Up' is has traces of inspiration from hip-hop songs, with it's more uppity, 'in your face' beats.

The story, or message, this song is trying to convey is to never disrespect those whom have helped you and built you up and explain the diligence and perseverance you are going to need in order to survive in the Mafia industry, and that once you think you got there, that means you still have ways to go, or to put it in Carmen's words; 'Don't get too comfortable, life can take 10 steps ahead of you just like that.'

The bold beats and sassy lyrics can be quite jarring to some, but the song overall is very well received by Capos and music critics alike. Although a minority of Capos did make an argument about 'Hands Up' being a better B-side track for 'Tycoons the Album' than '우리는', however this dispute is easily dismissed by favor over the idea of "'우리는' and 'Hands Up' being equally great overall, but '우리는' is a B-side for a reason that we don't know yet/we will have to speculate more on to know why", given by K-pop commentary channels such as KPOP Junkee and Korea Scouter TV.

The topic of respect and being respectful is heavily mentioned in the song and due to this, some Capos said that 'it almost seemed like they were demanding respect' and this ideology was shared around with a portion of the fandom, however Tycoons responded to this issue by saying that they only wanted to portray their characters, not the actual people themselves.

4. GSW - ⏱ 3:02 - Continuazione

'GSW', short for 'Gun shot wound' is the next song in the tracklist and another hip hop dance song in the whole album. 'GSW' is co-written by Tycoons and this song carries a more JYP style of music for the group, but with that said, the JYP 'signature style' was definitely beneficial for Tycoons' versatility in music styles. What makes this track different is the lack of lyrics and the main focus on the dance aspect that goes with the track.

The music was intense like the title track and had a variety of different musical tones incorporated, like at some points of the song there could be a more deep atmosphere and in others it could be softer, or faster, or sad. Though the song may be lacking in lyrics, it compensates for a complicated, but amazing choreography. The only verses in the song are the first pre-chorus, chorus and bridge, and these verses are fairly brief;

'just when you think there's a settled score

the battle has just reborn

comes swift like an avalanche

come to steal what you just got back

at your back like a loaded gun

and the night has just begun

steady now breathe, breathe'

This song took the longest to practice in terms of dance. According to Tyke, he stated that they've had to practice this dance longer than any of the other song's dances combined. The choreography is much harder and more technically challenging, and it also involves the usage of various props as well as stage actors to accompany Tycoons in their action sequences throughout the dance. The CEO even opted to postpone the actual date of their debut because of how challenging this dance was, as he had doubts that the group could actually meet the deadline. But hard work and dedication pulled through and the duo clearly succeeded through all the hours of work.

5. Heir - ⏱ 4:45 - Conflitto

The song 'Heir' is sort of like the climax of the album. This is when the tone of the song shifts to a more calmer, simpler tunes and faster timing with more room to add story telling lyrics and catchy raps. Tyke and Carmen worked on this song together and therefore rapping-to-singing ratio is pretty equal, and their inspiration for this album can really be sensed here, or at least that's what they think anyway. At the beginning, this song sounds quite to 'MAFIA' because of how Tycoons' characters are connected to the person next in line to their 'throne' but they found out something was wrong and they go searching for her. Shown briefly in the music video, this 'heir' is a baby, almost a toddler, who's sleeping in a crib inside a dark nursery but the scene is shown to flicker to a clip of people in full black outfits taking them away, resembling a kidnapping.

In the music video for 'MAFIA' we briefly get video shots of Carmen turning around to face the camera angle with a distraught expression before running towards a hallway as if rushing to get something, and Capos think that this is Carmen running to save her 'heir.' Tycoons soon confirm the rumors surrounding this mysterious heir however didn't drop every detail, but did mention said heir's name; Chloe.

The song itself is intense just like it's title track, but with added drama and theatrics by an orchestral pre-chorus and followed by another dirty dubstep/trap drop and bridge. The classic parts meant to symbolize going back to the classics, where king and queen take care of their heirs as they rule their kingdom, but by the end of the song the orchestra melody doesn't complete itself and loop, instead for the last 5 seconds of the song, it's heard glitching and skipping certain beats before eventually quieting down.

This strategic, but harmonious symphony of classical and trap genres seems to be the critics' favorite and it definitely made sense for Capos to enjoy it just as much. However some added that the drop sounded too much like 'MAFIA' and when put side by side, they almost have the exact same notes. Tycoons took to answer this predicament right away, explaining that, though taking care of children aren't the characters, Tyke or Carmen's, front suit, their heir still plays a role in their journey to the top, by being more careful, thought out and responsive to anything, and eventually the crowd died down.

6. 만족하니? (Are You Satisfied?) - ⏱ 4:30 - Calore de momento

'만족하니?' or 'Are You Satisfied?' in English is the 6th song in the tracklist and right off the bat is a rap-heavy trap style song, going back to harsh, dirty beats and Carmen's growly voice. This song is meant to represent the heat of the moment and a continuation of the previous song 'Heir', after they realize that the next generation of their 'royal family' was taken from them. Carmen wrote this song feeling her own anger to the horrible people present in her life as a child, and after some fine tuning from Tyke so it doesn't sound too much like a diss track [though according to some fans, it still does], the lyrics to the song can really convey how angry and angry [and rather sadistic] their characters were over loosing their 'heir':

'you think this is fun?

that this is all just a game?

well I'll tell you this now, you pricks

that you'll regret this mess you made (yuh)

you've dug yourself deep in a hole

where we will throw you a rope

and drag your body to your neighborhood

and cut you open wide!

does that sound good?

are you satisfied now?'

The rather horrifying lyrics of this song and the glitchy sound effects added makes it one of the least favorite songs in the album to fans, along with 'Losing It', but as the internet is known for divided opinions and constant fighting over the slightest things, Capos were no different. One side said that this song was okay and 'the others who can't stand the lyrics are actual babies', quoted from one Capo, and 'the other' side of the fandom just did not appreciate the gory lyrics and 'would just listen to the album without this song overall', quoted from another Capo.

Critics also agreed that this track and 'Losing It' in particular could've been less gory, however they did understand why Tycoons wanted to make it so that it would sound sadistic and scary and all that, even if it was their least favorite song concept. Tyke quickly defended himself and his sister by stating that they wanted the album to be raw and true to their characters' personalities and the storyline, and at the end of the day it was just some lyrics in a song that shouldn't be taken too seriously. Some people saw this as Tycoons' over-involvement with their fanbase and turned them away from the group but a couple of them have since returned to being a Capo after realizing that the reason why Tycoons called them their 'Capos' is because of their wish to be engaging with their fandom and that they were forgetful to the meaning of the name in the first place.

7. Losing It - ⏱ 2:04 - Climax

'Losing It' is the very next song and yet again, a continuation of the previous song '만족하니?' but unlike the last one, 'Losing It' is much calmer but at the same time, was just sinister and a little vocal heavy. The song was one of the quieter songs in the album but kept that deep and mysterious aspect about it, which made fans appreciate this track more than the previous one. In this song, Tyke really showed that he can rock to a quicker paced song as well as a slower one, as 'Losing It's melody incorporated a few transitions from a fast paced beat to a slower beat.

The electro synths and more vocally challenging melody and high notes made this song one of the hardest songs to sing in the album, if not the hardest song to sing in the album. It was more of a ballad with the occasional trap build up leading to a softer EDM drop as per usual. The song's varying speeds also made it a challenge to sing as you first go up high, then low, then mid-range before climbing back up again and several different variations of this pattern were incorporated so no verse sounded the same, nor did it have the same lyrics. Speaking of, the lyrics to the song describe the disappointment and shame the characters had to go through when they found out their family member had been kidnapped and it includes a few hints pointing towards Tyke's depression really helping out during this song [even though it was actually written by Carmen since Tyke was depressed when the song was written, so his low mood helped this song convey the sadness and frustration properly]

8. Fire With Fire - ⏱ 2:50 - Vendetta

'Fire With Fire' is the finale of the album, and though it may be only less than 3 minutes, the song holds a deep passionate beat and had probably the most memorable ending drops throughout the whole album. Mirroring 'GSW', 'Fire With Fire' was dance dominated with a few lyrics, but due to its short length, the choreography was more complicated and faster paced, 'ending with a bang' as Tyke would say. And though the choreography wasn't as complicated as 'GSW', and did not need any props, it was definitely just as tiring, according to Carmen.

Capos compare the drop to that of Stray Kids' 'Miroh' for it's electro house instruments but broken down, it doesn't sound too similar, though people managed to merge the two songs together to create a song that even Tycoons listen to and they gave the person that made the first remix a very well deserved shout-out.

9. Outro: The End - ⏱ 1:14 - La fine (per ora)

The outro song wasn't originally needed in the album but Tycoons added it in there to add some hype on the next album coming up as well as a quick sneak peak and Capos and the rest of the world were definitely excited for what's to come

.•♫•♬•Ａｃｃｏｍｐｌｉｓｈｍｅｎｔｓ•♫•♬•.

• 'Tycoons The Album' was nominated for album of the year at the MAMAs 2017 however did not win.

• Tycoons themselves won Best New Artist of the Year at the same event as well as 3 other music show awards; from the MGMAs, AAAs and Soribada;

• 'MAFIA' won Song of the Year at the MGMAs and Tycoons won Rookie of the Year at the AAAs and New Artist of the Year at Soribada.

• 'MAFIA' peaked at #5 place on the MelOn chart, #6 place on the Gaon chart, #8 place on both Soribada and iTunes Top 10 and #39 on the Billboard hot 100.

• '우리는' made it to #18 on the MelOn chart and dropped to #20, #17 on Gaon, and #16 on iTunes Top 20

• 'Hands Up', 'GSW' and 'Heir' made it to #49, #50, and #52 on the Billboard hot 100 charts. But jumped to #35, #38, [surpassing their title track] and #40 and stayed there.

• 'GSW' was actually nominated for Best M/F Dance Performance at MAMAs but unfortunately did not place.

.•♫•♬•Ｅｘｔｒａｓ•♫•♬•.

• Carmen has a painting that eventually became the official cover of the physical album and the company's design team thought 'why not put that design to good use', since Carmen already did the work for them, and she didn't mind them using her design, as she was credited in the back of the album as well as inside the photo book. Where there were photos taken of her actually recreating the cover painting on canvas while wearing her *ⁱᶜᵒⁿⁱᶜ* elbow-length-sleeved shin-length black skintight dress, long cherry red satin gloves, matching-color kitten heels and beret in the 'boudoir' set [also featured in the music video].

#tycoons #tyc.#pinkocnet #tokyokocnet #lofi #lofikocnet #kumokcn #kumokocnet #woopkocnet #kocsociety

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relucant · 5 years

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i am legit so terrified my mother is going to give herself a stroke before i escape in a week. and because she cares about nothing except her own anxiety and the cat, despite my begging her in literal tears to help put a plan in place for what happens to my father if that does happen, to the shock of no one, she has done zero to make that happen even a little.

i mean, the cat is sick, which obviously puts her even more on edge than always -- i love the cat more than life itself and i would take a bullet for him in an instant, but he is pretty much her therapy animal and the only thing keeping her even remotely tethered to this earth. and he’s 11, and has liver problems, so yeah. it’s scary. but like, it’s also basically textbook UTI -- which last week at the vet, even before he started feeling sick, the vet was like “i’m going to go ahead and test him for a UTI, i think it might be possible.” i hate it when people are like “oh, it’s okay, he’ll be fine!” because maybe he won’t be, and that’s terrifying, but also like... the cat’s having some intestinal ickiness and doesn’t feel good isn’t quite apocalyptic yet.

and my father is garbage to be in the same room as, absolutely, but like... there’s also ways to cope somewhat with him, and she just is in such a constant spiral of literally paralytic anxiety that she just... won’t do absolutely anything to make her life slightly less miserable even it requires changing her behavior even a tiny bit.

“he just... he just came in here earlier, and just, i had all the magazines stacked up on the chair, and he just picked them up and threw them on the bed!” okay yeah, because he’s an asshole with dementia, but like, can you tell him not to do that? “stop attacking me!”

having a full-on panic attack, sucking in breaths, finally gasping out, “he- he came in here, and he said he was going to do laundry!” while bursting into full sobbing. “he- he can’t do his laundry! he doesn’t use bleach, and he- he just throws his underwear full of shit into the laundry!” yeah dude, that’s fucking awful. but erupting in earsplitting shrieks of “NO YOU CAN’T FUCKING WASH YOUR UNDERWEAR YOU HAVE A PAIR BECAUSE I JUST FUCKING CHECKED” well, have you considered, “no, don’t, they need to be bleached, i’ll do it tomorrow.”

obviously, “calm down” has never made any situation better in the entire history of anything, ever. and her situation sucks. mine is probably worse in the immediate, because i have two parents who don’t know or care that, like, i’m a human being and not their maid/emotional support punching bag, respectively, but i have a way out, and she doesn’t, so that’s awful. and it’s going to be awful, at least until he dies, but again, like, it doesn’t have to be absolutely, intentionally as horrifying awful as it can possibly be, because making anything a little better would require her, like, doing something.

i keep trying to get on her case about looking into, like, actually getting treatment for her crippling anxiety disorder, even though i’ve been on this futile merrygoround for at least a decade and the circle never changes, because she’s so wrapped up in her cocoon of anxiety i don’t think she wants it to change.

every single time i bring up the possibility of just talking to someone about how bad it is -- like, i dunno, her shrink to start with, who it’s a miracle i even finally got her to go to that even, and i am dubious she’ll continue after i leave, even though she likes her shrink and also her shrink will come to the house, or even just her GP, who she also likes -- she just immediately reverts into, like, “well, maybe i should just start taking my xanax every day again.” no like, dude, that’s like... not a treatment for chronic anxiety. “well it says anxiety on the bottle.” yes. for like... a plane trip.

this exact back and forth has happened probably 50+ times, and she just deletes it and reuses it over and over.

“but -- but i don’t want to quit drinking! i can’t, not right now with what’s going on!” like honestly fair enough, that train has left the station. so like... okay, don’t. if you go to a doctor who refuses to treat you unless you quit drinking, like... go to a different doctor. i asked my shrink, and she’s kinda like yeah, obviously, drinking isn’t great on psych meds, but for most anxiety meds, it mostly just decreases their effectiveness (and don’t drive, which she doesn’t anyway), not kill you, and still probably better than nothing.

and then after the xanax response, and then the drinking response, she just shuts down any further attempt at the conversation and starts crying about whatever asshole thing my father last did, which she completely did not in any way at any time ask or tell him to, like, not do that. until she’s so upset she starts banshee shrieking at him for doing a thing she never once told him not to do. (or vice versa)

and i realized the other night that what gets to me so much (among a million other things) is like... the exact shitty ways he behaviors towards her, and that she comes sobbing to me about, are like... unsettlingly similar to ways she behaviors towards me, if in different ways.

like, come into her room, sit down, talk blankly at her about stupid shit and then get annoyed when she tries to actually respond? kiiinda like every time she comes into my room, sits down, complains to me about the exact same thing she complained about last night, and then gets upset when i try to have a back and forth conversation.

“he just -- he just says the same thing, over and over! five times in the last two days if we have money for the gardener! he’s asked me twice today what the baby’s name is! he told me three times he’s going to go get the mail! it’s like talking to a r*tarded toddler!” (excuse that word, not sure how to rephrase)

yes mom, and that’s the 10th time this week you’ve said it’s like talking to a toddler, and i’ve said yes, it is like talking to a toddler, because he has dementia, he cannot form new memories, and two minutes later you just wail that it’s like talking to a toddler, again.

and the cycle continues, because i know perfectly well it’s as pointless to think there’s any chance of her making any significant changes in her behavior or grasp on her mental health, any more so than my father whose brain is nearly chewed up and spat out by now. but she’s still in there just enough that i can’t help feeling like i could almost get through to her if i could figure out how. and when she’s not near my father, like when we were up in new jersey with my brother and sister in law and baby nephew, her anxiety abated to the point that lke, yeah, she still had a meltdown when faced with like, a single step, despite being surrounded by three able-bodied adult humans, but overall, mentally, was like at like 70% a fairly normal elderly woman, kinda dotty but doting on her grandchild and puppies and basking in at least one of her children turning out with an apple pie life (about 15 years later, but still pretty perfect). and so i’m haunted by all the what-ifs, what if she can just survive until my father dies and she’ll be okay, so maybe i can still help, so maybe i should keep trying, even though i know, i know, i know.

and i try to keep in mind that it’s also easier for me because, like, my father more or less likes me, as a person -- i don’t think he’s ever loved me, or is capable of love (except for our pets, which honestly is a fairly big redeeming factor, i suppose) but he thinks i’m interesting, and my brother, and that if he was manipulated into having kids by whatever the hell he used to do, his resentment of our existence is tempered somewhat by the fact that he’s kinda pleased with how we turned out, and i have one or two pleasant memories of sitting on the trunk of his old car as a small child pointing out the pleiades, or drunkenly reciting ts eliot on the kitchen floor. my mother does not get that leeway; he thinks (or acts, at least) that since he did his duty and got married and procreated, her entire existence should be devoted to his convenience -- not even comfort, just convenience, and making herself exist as little as possible.

which plays into the cycle again because then i, unfairly, resent my mother for that more than him, because it genuinely did not occur to me even as a precocious kid that fathers were supposed to, like, love their children until i was at least in middle school if not later; it still jars me sometimes, bitterly, when i see dads who are just like in love with their kids. but my mom was my mom, so as it became clear that she never actually wanted to, like, parent anyone either, she’s the one my hurt and pissiness channels to.

anyway if anyone actually read all of this, i know i say the same shit over and over about this, but it’s so complicated not many of the few people i talk to one on one know what’s going, and i don’t want to over-vent, but i feel like i’m about to claw my skin off with the anger and frustration and regret, so thanks.

in a funny-scary sign-off, so i finally convinced my mother to get a mini-freezer so i can stock it full of real food before i bounce to eurasia next week, and it came today; instructions said to let it sit for a few hours after getting it in place before plugging it in, so i hauled it into a convenient dining room corner and forgot it. fast forward i come out to the kitchen to check on the huge vat of minestone soup i’m making and my father is lumbering triumphantly out of the kitchen pantry with a frayed probably 40 year old extension cord in his hand.

i blink at him, immediately concerned. he’s like, “i think i’ll go ahead and hook up that new... thing-a-ma-jig! ‘cause the thing on the plug, it’s got the three things [prongs], but the things in the walls, they’ve only got the two things! so i’m gonna just go ahead and plug it in here!”

i’m like, “NONONONONONONO!” because like (a) common sense and (b) the manual was specifically like do not do NOT use an extension cord, and if you MUST make ABSOLUTELY SURE it has these EXACT SPECIFICATIONS and is IN NO WAY SHAPE OR FORM SOME DECREPIT CORD-SNAKE YOU DUG OUT OF THE DUSTY BOWELS OF YOUR KITCHEN PANTRY (i may have exaggerated that last bit). he’s like what?? i explain that to him, in fewer words, and that i in fact have an adapter specifically to convert two-prong to three-prong.

he’s mystified, demands explanation of how that works; i try to elaborate, that i put the two prong end in the wall and plug the freezer into the three-prong end, and just blank looks. “well i don’t think that’s going to work, i think we should just use this.” i just kinda take it, tell him i’ve got it under control, ignore his aggrieved hissing, and walk away.

i go to tell my mom this, because like gallows humor or gtfo i guess -- she’s like jesus even i realize that’s not a good idea -- and only then do i realize that the extension cord he had so proudly produced was in fact a two prong... to a two prong. so either he didn’t notice that, or more likely, just intended to jam the two prongs into the extension cord and just leave the third prong kinda just... out.

and it’s sad as hell, because dude was an electrical engineer who worked at the absolute cutting-edge of the aerospace industry, like literally worked on apollo 11 at cape canaveral and dementia has eaten his brain to the point he doesn’t understand plugs. but. sometimes you take the laughs where you can get it.

anyway one week one day from right now my plane takes off so please can just like (a) my cat (b) my mother and (c) my father hang on that long (in that order) until i have enough distance to get my fucking head on straight again for a tiny little bit.

#not spn #personal #long long rant #family #dementia #anxiety #alcoholism #am trying not to punch a thing

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duskfloret · 5 years

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8 FOR EVERYONE!!! >:33

♔「 @wholehcartedly & @conoscenze ; accepting 」kiki and vera are the real mvps ❞

8: How did you choose the name for your muse?(This is a little more of why I named them what I did, but oh well.)

Katsuo Mizushima–his given name means “victorious man,” which is a little ironic because of the fact that he’s so anxious and timid; regardless, he is still a prodigy in his own right, so it suits him too. His father named him! His surname is composed of characters that mean “water” and “island,” a reference to the fact that his family lives on an island. (On a slightly related note, his younger brother’s name, Shinji, means “truthful (second son)” and a) he’s an honest guy, and b) he’s not the product of an affair like Katsuo is.)

Ryoko Mizushima–her given name means “bright child,” which definitely suits her due to her intellect and how she seems so talented at everything she tries. Her mother named her, and it’s possibly a jab at how the woman prefers her daughter over her son, as Ryoko’s birth was a bright spot after, well, Katsuo’s existence.

Jonah–his name wasn’t picked for any particular reason aside from sounding nice. His master just liked the name and needed something to call his cat. It means “dove,” a fact his master did not take into consideration.

Noire–she was named for her hair colour, since noir is “black” in French! It also fits into the morality/ideas her mentor drilled into her growing up, where “black” means bad and “red” is good, and since she doesn’t consider herself as good… (This thought process has slowly faded and she doesn’t pay it much mind anymore, though; it does still influence the fact that her clothes are mostly red and black.) As for her real name, Cerise Bellerose, Cerise means “cherry,” which is her favourite fruit, and Bellerose means “lovely rose,” because she’s cute and often incorporates rose accessories into her outfits.

Kotone Furuya–her given name means “harp sound” and her surname means “old valley.” These weren’t picked for any specific reason. Her real name, Chinami Agano, also wasn’t picked for any specific reason aside from Chinami sounding cute.

Tzaphkiel–this is a given, based on the fact that she’s an existing archangel. But the nickname Tzan comes from the fact that I’m too lazy to write out her name every time I refer to her.

Kaeto Easton–Kaeto is pretty much just a different way of writing Cato, which is an old Roman name meaning “wise,” and Easton was picked largely just because it sounds kind of similar to the name of a city in the state where I grew up. As for his real name, Aspen Banks–aspen is a tree, one that has been symbolically (and maybe literally) cut down after his mother passed away, and Banks (though the name itself refers to hillsides) may or may not be related to the fact that his father sold him to pay off gambling debts, because banks and money and all.

Fane Vasile–his given name is the Romanian diminutive of one that means “crown,” and his surname is the Romanian form of one that means “king.” It’s ironic because he grew up poor and is still very frugal, and he’d never consider himself the least bit royal. Also, since Vasile is a form of Basil, which is the name of a plant, it reflects the fact that he likes plants a whole lot.

Takara Nakahara–her given name means “treasure,” which is both fitting and not; on one hand, her ability is rare and valuable, but on the other hand, she’s often looked down on and cast aside due to being an illegitimate child. Her surname is just meant to be a generic common one (as her mother was a commoner), and I like the way it sounds together. The name of her father’s family, Oshiro, means “castle,” which represents the fact that they’re important.

Inari–another given.

Sanae Agano–her given name means “rice seedlings,” and I didn’t pick it for a particular reason aside from it sounding pretty. Agano was the surname for a character that I’d since scrapped the idea for and wanted to reuse (I don’t remember the meaning and looking it up isn’t helping, but apparently there was a Japanese cruiser named Agano). Maiko means “dancing girl,” which I picked for obvious reasons.

Silvia Asenov–her given name actually means “forest,” but I picked it because it sounds like silver. Her surname doesn’t have much of a meaning and just sounds nice.

Nona Blanc–her given name just sounded nice (it means “ninth”), and her surname means “white;” this represents her purity, along with the fact that it can be used to refer to someone with blond hair.

Aris Sanna–his given name (a modern form of Ares) was picked for a few reasons: its relation to Greek myth, the fact that it sounds similar to Icarus, and because all the letters in it are also in Icarus. Sanna was just a name from a list of Greek surnames, though the site is now saying that it’s Italian… huh.

Kyros Iakovou–his given name was picked for the K sound in it, to match the K (ch) sound in Achilles. It’s also the variant of a name that can mean “farsighted,” which is ironic because he severely lacking in the department of foresight and good judgement. Iakovou was picked to create alliteration.

Maia Petrou–her given name can mean “mother” or “great,” and she’s both of those things; it was picked to reflect the fact that Andromache was the epitome of the ideal wife and mother, and to somewhat mimic the -mache part of the name. Petrou just sounded nice with Maia. Maia is also a star in the Taurus constellation.

Pyrrha Braun–her given name was initially picked because it’s pretty (and also P for Perseus), but the fact that Pyrrha is a figure in Greek myth sealed the deal. It means “red”! Then, I picked Braun because it refers to a person who’s brown-skinned or brown-haired, and put together with her first name, you get reddish-brown hair–or auburn, in other words.

Theon Marlowe–his given name… stands for Theseus the CEO, and the -n makes it an Ancient Greek name. It’s a reference to the fact that before he developed into an actual muse, Cae and I referred to a potential reincarnation of him as Theseus the CEO. Marlowe wasn’t picked for any specific reason.

Caesar Antinori–he’s named after an anime character because I was watching the second part of JJBA at the time and Joseph yelling, “CAESAR!!!” and saying, “Caesarino,” reminded me of how Pyrrha would talk to Theon’s younger brother, so… (Pyrrha also breaks the fourth wall by insisting he’s named after an anime character.) Also, there’s a vineyard in Italy owned by an Antinori family (I’ve heard), and the idea of, “No, not those Antinoris,” was funny to me.

Lena Antinori–her given name can mean “sunlight” or “moonlight” in Greek, and it has the same vowel arrangement as the -meda part of Andromeda.

Gino de la Fontaine–for the most part, I picked his name because it sounds kind of pretentious, which is ironic for someone like him. His first name means “ever-living,” which is a reference to him being a reincarnation, and his surname means “of the fountain,” which is just pretty neat.

Asher Gray–his given name means “happy; blessed”! It used to be an ironic name, but now that he’s worked through many of his issues, it’s true and suits him perfectly. Gray is because someone who once went by that name said to me, “Hi, I’m Gray without the R,” and that suits the fact that he’s pansexual. (The in-story reason is that Pyrrha went on some rant about names where both the first and last mean the same thing, and used “if Asher’s name was Ash Gray” as an example. Since he didn’t like his father’s surname, he picked up Asher Gray as a stage-name of sorts.) His actual surname, Barnett, doesn’t have any spectacular story behind it.

Anelie Vossen–her given name is a short version of a name meaning “grace” or “favour,” and she especially lacks the latter, as she’s the black sheep of her family. She’s not particularly graceful either. And then Vossen creates alliteration.

Akari Shiraga–her given name is written as “red village,” the red part being a reference to the ribbon in her hair. Shiraga is the surname of her guardian, who is the Big Bad in Ryoko and Katsuo’s canon storyline.

#wholehcartedly #conoscenze #♔「 ooc ; ask 」even the stars are whispering to each other ❞#♔「 ooc ; minor interactions 」one cannot have too large a party ❞#since there are... too many muses to tag #thank you for sending these!

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blogs-of-our-lives · 6 years

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I, Frankenstein is a Trash Movie

I’ve been putting off writing this for some time now. I watched Episode 98 immediately after watching 97, and you can tell it was getting a little hazy by the end. I can vaguely remember the beginning of the episode, and that’s when my memory was at its clearest. So I may take some creative liberties and make my own plot as I go.

Welcome to Carter’s nightmare carnival funhouse version of Days of our Lives.

This show makes me sad. I write way way way slower than they produce episodes. As I write this review for Episode 98, they’ve already released episode 205. Granted, I have no intentions of following it every day (episode 200 has a thumbnail of Ciara passed out on the floor as an obviously fake fire consumes her house, so I’m abso-fucking-lutely reviewing that one next), but the blistering pace that this show takes is disheartening. It just goes to show that life moves fast. You blink, and kids your age are getting married. In the previous NFL draft, the Buffalo Bills selected linebacker Tremaine Edmunds in the first round, at the age of 19. He’s younger than I am. That’s ridiculous. I’m getting old, fast.

The episode opens with John at the hospital. He looks flustered, glancing around desperately. For those who haven’t read about the previous episode, the last we saw John, he had just entered the Dimera mausoleum with Will. As the door shuts, we hear a gunshot. Shortly behind him is Paul (wearing a black leather jacket, everybody in this show is wearing a black leather jacket, it’s like the soap opera version of Sons of Anarchy).

“What have you done?” Paul asks, staring in horror at the floor.

John steps in behind him, holding a comically small gun. “The same thing I’m going to do to you,” he says. It cuts to the outside of the mausoleum, where we hear another gunshot.

I didn’t mention this last episode, but imagine if that was the last thing you heard. It was clearly not a sincere question. Paul knew what happened. Ugh. I hate that line so much. Imagine your first memories. Imagine kindergarten, first grade, all the way up to middle school and high school. Every moment of your life, every love and every regret, every moment of anger or sadness, has been leading up to an old guy in a black leather jacket with a tiny gun saying “The same thing I’m going to do to you” and then shooting you.

Anyway, we’re caught up. John is distressed, and at this point it’s kind of unclear what he’s trying to do. I can’t remember if John is trying to finish off Steve (John is a spy tasked with killing Steve, the eyepatch guy), trying to tell his wife (Will’s grandma, and just so you guys all know, there’s no coming back from murdering someone’s grandson. No amount of foot rubs and boxes of chocolate shaped like hearts can help you come back from murdering your wife’s grandson) that he’s a spy, or maybe he just had a moment of clarity and realized that Days of our Lives can only rent like three sets at one time and he truly had nowhere else to go.

I’ll just tell you all the truth. Will and Paul are alive. They both make an appearance on the thumbnail of episode 191, and unless it’s from a flashback (more on that later), they survived. Just as a good rule of thumb, if this show wants you to think somebody is dead, they’re probably alive.

Fun fact, when someone on the show says “They’re in a better place” when talking about a dead character, they’re telling the truth.

Oh god, I just realized that it doesn’t even matter. They’ve blurred the lines between life and death so much (Will returning from the dead with amnesia, the Salem Stalker victims returning to life, John dying in a car accident and somehow appearing in this episode) that there truly is no reason to believe anyone is dead. It doesn’t matter if an actual licensed doctor comes on screen and pronounces the character dead. You could probably bring back your favorite character just by emailing the producer. The email is [REDACTED BY EDITOR – You absolutely may not use my personal email address], by the way. Email that at least twice a day every day, and soon you’ll get your character back.

The scene cuts to a man and a woman standing next to each other in front of the Dimera mausoleum. The mausoleum has “DIMERA” etched into the marble, just in case the viewer has forgotten that scene from less than 24 hours earlier. It could have easily been confused with any of the thousands of mausoleums that appear in our day to day television. These two people (the woman is a former lover of Andre Dimera, the most recent Dimera to pass away – which apparently is common enough that it merits the need for a mausoleum – and the man is of absolutely no consequence and isn’t worth the number of words I’ve invested in him already) take up most of the episode, pondering Andre’s life in front of his tomb, before they will presumably enter and discover Paul and Will’s “bodies” (I have no idea what they will find there), but are also painfully boring. I’ve said before that a single Days of Our Lives episode contains very little content. Usually it has about a conversation’s worth of information. For example, the description of episode 189 is “Kate makes a huge confession to Chad.” Presumably they also talk about the confession, right? Usually not. Usually the episode breaks down in the following way: Kate sees Chad and says hello, cut to other characters, cut to commercials, Kate says she has a confession, cut to other characters, cut to commercials, Kate says the confession, cut straight to commercials, Chad looks upset, the episode ends.

This is a very long-winded way of me telling you that it takes the full 60 minutes of Days of our Lives for the two people to enter the goddamn tomb.

It’s about time I talk about the flashbacks. I don’t remember what each individual flashback contained, but there were two or three in this episode. And holy crap, they were genius. Not the content of the flashbacks, but the idea of them. Because they literally reused old Days of our Lives footage. Imagine if I could copy and paste bits of previous Blogs of our Lives episodes, label them as a flashback, and call it a day. Oh man, I am jealous of the writers. Until I remember they’re stuck in the Fields of Asphodel that is being a writer for Days of Our Lives.

Naturally, the flashbacks have slightly lower quality than the episode itself. We live in an age of progress, and in a few years, even the most recent movies will look dated. But this is just absurd. It looks like someone went frame by frame and printed out the entirety of the flashback, photocopied them, photocopied them again, and put them back in. Also the audio sucks. I don’t have anything poetic to say about it. It just sounds like the voice actors did their recordings via walkie-talkies.

Remember Gabi, the chic murderer? Well now she’s talking with a police officer in the station. He’s trying to get help her out, clearly a friend of hers. “You’re going to be home to see your daughter soon,” he said.

“That’s not likely,” a woman says, strutting into the room. She’s got a satisfied, smug smirk. “I’m pressing charges.” Ah, she must be the DA. I think? Is that how law works? The DA can just press charges? Does that mean that she just as easily could have chosen not to? For murder? I’ll give DOOL a pass because I don’t understand it myself.

And now my notes start making even less sense. The handwriting is larger and sloppier and mostly illegible.

The former lover of Andre Dimera and the man accompanying her continue on their Hamlet-style soliloquy, talking and talking and talking and just standing outside the damn mausoleum. Finally, she opens the door and gasps, before the camera fades to black, ending the episode. Which is the biggest cop out I’ve ever seen, but nothing in this show surprises me anymore. I’m not mad, just disappointed. I’m telling you guys, an hour of Days of our Lives contains about five minutes of something actually happening.

Of course, this isn’t the end of my notes. I will transcribe them below exactly as it is written:

· GUY IS MURDRER

· WOMAN SEES THINGS

· PUNTS SRYNGE IN SLEVE

· FIGHTS OF ANGELS AND ALL THAT

All of these wonderful pieces of insight culminate in a full page entry, in all caps, on the next page. SHE FINDS HIM THERE.

I don’t know. I was going to put more to that sentence, but I realized it answered every question one could possibly have about that list. Why did I forget how to spell? I don’t know. Presumably I was in a rush to get all my ideas down. Where does the syringe (or rather srynge) come in? Who is the woman that sees things? Why are the angels fighting? I don’t know.

My best guess is that John Black stole a syringe to inject Steve with poison, seeing as both were in the hospital. Which opens up the possibility that I meant to write “punts srynge in STEVE.” Somehow I doubt that, however. I assume I meant “flights of angels,” a Shakespeare reference. Who even knows. You guys can probably decipher my notes better than I can.

The other day, I was at Walmart (while procrastinating writing this, and I suppose in a way I’m still procrastinating by writing this side segment), when the $3 movie bin caught my eye. I’m drawn to it every time. I love DVDs (there’s something to be said about physical media rather than digital), I’m a cheap bastard who loves cheap-ass shit, and I love love love love love bad movies. More on that later.

I found a three movie collection of Prom Nights 1-4, starring Jaime Lee Curtis. It seemed to be some kind of an off-brand Carrie. Also, for those of you with keen eyes, it was not a mistake that the 3 movie collection contained 1-4. For whatever reason, the set contained Prom Night, Prom Night 2, and Prom Night 4. Why not Prom Night 3? Won’t I be lost without knowing what happened between Prom Night 2 and Prom Night 4?

I truly, sincerely believe I have good taste in movies. I watch a lot of good movies and can understand what makes them good and why. However, on one fateful day about three years ago, I discovered that it was far easier to enjoy a bad movie with your friends than a good one. I get upset if people talk during a good movie, and don’t care if people talk during a bad movie. We can make fun of bad movies, but not good movies. Most of all, a good movie often invokes a specific mood. It’s hard to match that mood with a group of people. A bad movie also invokes a specific mood, always laughter, which is very easy to match with a group of people.

Which is why I’ve seen Fridays the 13th Parts 1-8, Jason Goes to Hell, Jason X, Freddy vs. Jason, Nightmares on Elm Street 1-3, FACE/OFF, The Room, a lot of Scooby-Doo direct to DVD movies, Scared Shrekless (in my defense that was a gift), The Wickerman (the one with Nicholas Cage, obviously), The Gingerdead Man (starring Gary Busey), Starship Troopers (starring Gary Busey’s son), Antz, Darkman (treat yourself, it’s pretty great), Flushed Away (I enjoyed this one a little too genuinely), Birdemic: Shock and Terror, S. Darko, Jurassic Park III, Vampires Suck (not as much as that movie did), Hellraiser, Superbabies: Baby Geniuses 2, Meet the Robinsons, Hannibal Rising (swapping Jodie Foster for Julianne Moore was a poor decision), Alvin and the Chipmunks, Eragon (sweet Jesus Christ, I forgot about Eragon), Annabelle, Annabelle: Creation, The Conjuring (people will try to tell you the Conjuring is a good movie… don’t let them), Ouija, The Boy, and The Visit. Honorable mention goes out to Rubber, which isn’t actually a bad movie, and one other.

I, Frankenstein.

A movie so bad its title needed to be separated so it couldn’t taint any other sentences. The worst movie I’ve ever seen. But I can save that for another post.

You’ll notice that a lot of these movies are horror. I looove horror movies, so I say this with all the love in my heart. It’s a trash genre. I’ve never seen anything like it. For every one good horror movie, there are at least fifty horrible ones. Not fifty bad ones. Fifty horrible ones. I’ll talk about horror as a genre next time, but I’ll leave you with an anecdote. My friends and I wanted to watch a horror movie, so we found a list of the Top 100 Horror Movies of All Time. We didn’t recognize a single movie until #50, and they had the movie Oculus as the 25th best horror movie of all time. That’s ridiculous. The nicest thing I have to say about Oculus was there were a lot of parts of the movie where I didn’t want to get up and leave. There were a lot of mediocre scenes, and I mean that as a compliment. I thought about this for a moment, that Oculus was ranked 25th of all time, and realized that’s about right. There are so so so few good horror movies, and just an absurd amount are terrible. I think it’s due to the fact that all horror movies are vaguely formulaic, relying on tropes for the genre. It makes them really easy to write and produce.

Anyway, thanks for reading, and I’ll have the next Blogs of our Lives out much sooner than I got this one out.

Fuck I, Frankenstein.

#Days of Our Lives #blog #soap opera #movies #funny #hopefully #I'm the internet equivalent of a guy talking to himself on the bus #bad

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tl-notes · 3 years

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Kobayashi’s Maid Dragon S2 Episode 2 Notes

Here’s some notes for episode two, too, if you’d care to join me.

The “stay quiet” here is 大人し[い] otonashii, which takes the word for “adult” and adjectivizes it. It’s a common word with a variety of meanings, such as when something is “behaving” properly and not raising a fuss (from children to computer code to a chronic disease to political forces, all sorts of things) or when something comes across as “mature” (like a clothing design or a young person).

In this case the idea is that the dragons had chosen to “behave” and mind their own business, which (they seem to assume) led the humans into underestimating them and deciding to attack. (”Stay quiet” probably does a pretty good job of getting that across, but just to fill it out.)

This is 残念ながら zannen nagara, or “unfortunately...”.

The reason I bring it up here, is that it’s not a particularly intimate way of speaking and leans somewhat formal—potentially implying Ilulu has no more close relatives left to give her this news (and/or maybe her family’s social position is one where other dragons had to treat them with respect).

The second line here is 平常心を保つよ、私は, which is a fairly strong declaration of intent. I kind of feel like “I need to keep a clear head” sounds less confident, like convincing herself “ok bad situation, but if I just do this I’m fine.” In contrast, the Japanese imo is more of a “[Ilulu can do what she may,] but it won’t get it to me either way.” Just a mild point of characterization I suppose.

Just for clarity, she does use the word 雄 osu here, which is the more biological term for “in a sexually reproducing species, the one that produces sperm,” rather than a more gender-based term.

The TV show, シャシャシャシャキーン Sha-sha-sha-shakiin, is a combo reference to irl Saturday-morning kids’ variety show じゃじゃじゃじゃ～ン Ja-ja-ja-jaaN and weekday-morning シャキーン! Shakiin!.

The former’s name comes from the Japanese equivalent of ta-dah!, while the latter’s comes from the ”sound” for becoming alert, going from relaxed/sleepy/bored/etc. to “wide awake let’s go.” (though not necessarily sleep/wake related)

If you’ve seen these two emoji:

(´・ω・｀) (｀・ω・´)

The one on the right is the “シャキーン” one, and is the contrast to the gloomy one on the left (ショボーン shobon). Or these, going from asleep to awake:

( ˘ω˘ )ｽﾔｧ… (｀・ω・´) ｼｬｷｰﾝ

In manga and stuff you’ll also see it used for e.g. someone drawing/brandishing a sword, striking a cool poses with a lens flare, things like that.

I think it gets translated to metallic-y sounds in English fairly often in those cases (like drawing a katana, or a mecha pose), hence the translation above.

The verb for “frolic” here is じゃれる jareru (no relation to jajaan above), which is like to play/mess around, typically in a physical sense. For example it’s used in the compound word じゃれ合う jareau, which is often used in the same way English might say “playful wrestling” about kids or animals.

Though the word Kobayashi uses is actually a different じゃれる compound, じゃれつく jaretsuku, which is like playfully/affectionately grabbing/cuddling up/etc., (also primarily regarding kids or animals). There’s a bit of overlap with some of the uses of あまえる amaeru mentioned in the last episode’s notes.

Assuming I had the visuals, I’d probably just write this as “Please not on my lap...” or similar. (Kobayashi also uses a different verb conjugation for Tohru vs. Kanna in this scene, ~つくな vs. ~つかないで; Kanna’s being more plead-y compared to Tohru’s more “cut it out!” feel, hence the “please.”)

“Contact” here is “skin-ship,” a portmanteau-esque combination of skin and kinship or relationship. It’s primarily a Japanese word (you won’t find it in English dictionaries typically), but it was apparently coined by an American speaker at an international WHO seminar in 1953 (from which a Japanese attendee brought it back to Japan and it was later popularized).

The original use of the word was in reference specifically to parent-child physical intimacy, but as it became more widespread in usage the meaning extended to all sorts of relationships, from the platonic to the romantic.

One reason, presumably, that the term caught on so powerfully in Japan is that it has historically been a very touch-adverse culture (at least compared to say the US), and this extends even to parents with their children after the first few years. You’d see (and still see) psychologists recommend “more skinship” to people, for example.

The relative lack of skinship may partially explain the head pat thing mentioned in last episode’s notes (e.g. when you want to touch your kid, but hugs aren’t on the menu) and things like the old “hand-holding is lewd” meme. (Note this isn’t just me getting all orientalist here; there’s been a good bit of research on the skinship gap, and how it may be shrinking, by Japanese scholars.)

This line is also a bit of foreshadowing that Tohru has realized Kobayashi’s... situation already.

The Japanese here is 心と心でつながった後は体ですよ, which I only really mention because I kinda felt like the English’s “Now...” implied she was saying they only recently ‘connected their hearts,’ which I don’t feel from the Japanese wording and would say is probably not how Tohru thinks. E.g. more of a “Our hearts are already connected; now it’s time for our bodies!” kinda thing.

This 3/3 is March 3rd, which “equals” ♀ because that’s the date of Hinamatsuri, sometimes also referred to as Girl’s Day. The third day of the third month was originally a holiday brought over with the Chinese calendar, and it morphed from a more spring/peaches holiday into it’s more girl-oriented version at some point in the Edo period.

One of the highlights of Hinamatsuri is the doll displays, as pictured in this short bit with the Saikawa sisters. There are various types of displays, but this sort of staircase arrangement is the most common I believe. Each level has a certain type of doll that goes on it, with the top level having an “emperor” and an “empress” doll—which is the pair Riko replaces with dolls of herself and Kanna.

There’s some similarities between these doll displays and stereotypical Christmas trees: a family is likely to have a set of ornaments/dolls they mostly reuse each year, you put them up some time in advance of the actual holiday, then get lazy and leave them up too long put them away for a year after it’s over. A lot of businesses and such will put up displays as well.

“The judge in the underworld” is left vague here and isn’t a specific reference to anything, but is generally in line with the typical “image” of what happens after you die (setting aside actual religious beliefs) in Japan.

Please see the documentary series Hoozuki no Reitetsu for more info.

As of right now in the anime, Ilulu has only shown up twice, and only once of those when Kobayashi was alone. The implication seems to be that there have been other Ilulu encounters that we haven’t seen.

Also, for clarity, the Japanese is 私が一人の時にいつもイルルは来るから, which is more of a “whenever I’m alone Ilulu shows up” than a “she only shows up when I’m alone.” (The English could sorta be read either way I think?)

This bit is それだけじゃないって、争い以外もあると思ってくれているからだ。私はそんなトールを信じているから…　だからその為にイルルと和解したい

The main point of contention I have with this English is that it implies Kobayashi wants Tohru and Ilulu to make up. However, I’d say this is more Kobayashi wanting to come to terms with Ilulu herself (and just by extension Tohru/the other dragons/maybe other humans).

That is, by making peace between herself the human and the “hostile” dragon Ilulu, she’d be helping prove Tohru’s belief correct—and she has faith in Tohru that it is (see also last season finale).

(Notably while Tohru is Chaos faction herself, there’s not really been another Chaos dragon yet to be convinced like this. Kanna is no-faction, Fafnir is technically no-faction even if Chaos-ish, Quetzalcoatl is an observer, Elma is Harmony, and Tohru’s father is an exception on multiple levels.)

Without getting too deep into the “why,” one quick thing I’ll point out is that she says 和解したい wakai shitai, not してほしい shite hoshii or させたい sasetai etc., meaning it’s something she wants to do herself, not want/make someone else do. Generally speaking you can’t use the ~たい “want to” form for anyone but yourself (you don’t know what anyone else is thinking, after all), unless quoting them, asking, or in the ~がる “seems to want to” form.

This is a 防犯ブザー bouhan buzaa, a crime-prevention buzzer, also known as a personal or self-defense alarm. They emit a very loud sound when activated. The idea is you, well, use it like she does here, when someone is trying to do a crime to you.

Since most Japanese children walk to school, it’s extremely common for these devices to given to students (either by parents or a gov’t body). It’s technically recommended for adults to carry them too, though the advent of the mobile phone has driven down carry rates.

This particular one was probably purchased in episode four of season one, if you want to rewatch and see why!

This is 私にぶつけたい気持ちでもあるの？in the Japanese.

The verb for “tell” is ぶつける butsukeru, an evocative word meaning ~to slam against (somewhat similar to “vent” in English when used with emotions/feelings).

The “something” is 気持ち kimochi, ~emotion/feeling/thought.

So the Japanese here feels a lot more expressive than "something you want to tell me,” I would say (that could just as easily be a translation of 話したいこと). That said it’s not an easy thing to express in English within the confines of the format here, especially if you want to keep the “target = ‘me’” part.

It might feel somewhat like “You got something bottled up you wanna hit me with?”, though I doubt if I’d use that either.

As a side note, the manga has Kobayashi say an extra line after this, about being the “main tank” to take her “hate” (Japanese for “aggro” in MMOs).

A small note that “that girl and that boy” is あの子とあの子 ano ko to ano ko, so no gender specification in the Japanese (it’s a good language for talking about people without specifying a gender!).

“Next time” here is 今度 kondo, which is an interesting word because you can situationally use it for “recently,” “this time,” “next time,” or “soon.”

The reason I bring it up here is the English “next time,” personally, leaves me thinking “Was there a previous time? What ‘next’ do you mean?”—just a heads up that that’s not really an issue in the original line.

Also: this whole extended scene with Kobayashi saving Ilulu is one of the “many senses” mentioned in the episode title. (see also episode one notes re ikemen)

As an aside, this "play” is じゃれ合い jareai, the noun form of the jareau that was mentioned in the above “frolic” note.

If you were wondering: “Do dragons use paper?”, the word here is 形骸化 keigai-ka, (almost) lit. ~reduced to bones, meaning something that once was strong/effective is now basically just a formality. It’s similar to the phrase “dead letter” in reference to old laws that aren’t really enforced anymore.

So two potential points of ~lore relevance~ here: 1) the rules probably used to be enforced, 2) we have no evidence (either way, from this) that they actually have them on paper somewhere.

こりゃトールの父ちゃんは本格的に優しかったみたいだな

This might just be me reading too much into the English (again), but one difference in nuance between these two lines is that the English has Kobayashi implying Tohru’s dad “seemed” kind (which implies he’s not really kind, just kind in contrast to this villain), while the Japanese is more taking this as evidence that Tohru’s dad was actually being kind (see also last season finale).

For those wondering if the みたい in that line would imply a “seems”: it sort of does, but it applies across the whole observation here. I.e. “seems Tohru’s father was genuinely nice” vs. “making Tohru’s father seem genuinely nice” (which I’d guess would probably use 優しく見えてくる or something).

When you see “underestimate” in anime, most of the time it’s なめる nameru. It comes from the verbified archaic adjective 無礼し nameshi, meaning a combination of looking down on, acting rude towards, etc., and uses the same characters as “rude” (though often written in hiragana/katakana).

It also is a homonym of the verb “to lick,” so “Don’t underestimate humans” sounds identical to “Don’t lick humans.”

“Functional member of society” is 社会人 shakaijin, ~lit. person of society, which is a very commonly used word to refer to basically anyone who is an active member of society. It includes homemakers, so it’s not strictly “has a job at a company,” but in many contexts it’s used like “people with jobs” versus “students and NEETs.”

(Not that there’s anything wrong with the translation, just some extra context.)

A technique reminiscent of this shadow puppet silhouette style was also used in Hyouka, another Kyoani show and one directed by the late Series Director Takemoto Yasuhiro.

I kind of feel like yelling “Stay with me!” at someone injured is something you do when they’re in danger of fading away, not when they’re waking back up? Maybe that’s just me.

The Japanese is お気を確かに o-ki wo tashika ni, a polite (since Tohru almost always speaks kinda formally to Kobayashi, as part of the maid thing) way of saying “pull/hold it together,” and is used in a variety of situations.

Kanna’s line is a question (e.g. like “are you okay?”) in the Japanese here, whereas the English sounds more like something you say to someone who’s injured to try to reassure them.

This line is その子離れようとしないんです sono ko hanareyou to shinai n desu.

The English is a pretty literal translation: hanareru is the verb for leaving/separating (in some senses), and the ~you conjugation means “try to ~”. However, that conjugation also has a second use in just indicating intent—especially when used in the negative, like here—so e.g. “She didn’t want to leave your side,” or “She wouldn’t leave your side at all.”

（◎Д◎）

Just in case: this is an emoji for expressing shock.

One thing that is left out of the English in this line is the だけ dake, “only.”

So Kobayashi’s not necessarily surprised at this by itself, but in contrast to the fact that Tohru says she probably can hide her claws/tail (so why not this too?).

The base phrase Tohru is saying here is 私たちの仲じゃないですか, which roughly means “that’s just our relationship,” and is used commonly when being thanked for doing a favor for someone close. It’s similar in meaning to something like “hey of course, no problem, I know you’d do the same for me.”

Tohru puts a little spin on it by adding the “eternal” to make it 永遠の仲, which is a separate phrase that means probably what you’d think it means.

This quick cut to Tohru’s feet and the light “foot pop” motion... I have a hard time believing it’s anything but the director trying to give some subtle “goodbye kiss when leaving for work” vibes, even if they aren’t literally kissing. Just me?

Here she says あのトール ano Tohru, lit. “that Tohru,“ which in this sort of context carries a meaning similar to using an italicized “that” in English: not just any Tohru, but that Tohru, the famous one. The implication is that yes indeed Tohru is well-known among other dragons—and known to be quite strong and merciless.

It’s not a particularly big deal, but technically this is 人間と, i.e. Living with.

The ball hands thing is generally thought of as “Doraemon hands” in Japan. Doraemon gets the name from the food “dorayaki,” but “Dora” is also how you pronounce the first two syllables in “Dragon” (ドラゴン doragon).

Keep this in mind.

挨拶 (あいさつ) aisatsu, often translated as “greeting(s)”, is a lot bigger of a thing culturally for Japan than it might be for where you live. Though translated as “greetings” it also includes farewells and more. Basically a general term for “in X situation, say Y” style semi-set phrases.

In more traditionally minded companies, for example, employees are often expected to give a rote ohayou gozaimasu when they arrive (even if they think no one is around to hear it), and may get chewed out for not doing so or half-assing it. Then when passing someone in the hallway etc., an otsukare-sama desu, and yet another phrase when leaving for the day. Also the ittekimasu and itterasshai (when leaving home/saying bye to them) or tadaima and okaeri (returning home/welcoming back) that probably many anime-watchers are familiar with. Even itadakimasu is an aisatsu.

Obviously every culture utilizes “greetings” like this, but in Japan they’re pretty heavily ritualized and treated as a cornerstone of human relations, a key part of showing respect for your fellow humans (even people you hate!) and ensuring the smooth working of society. It’s not the thing they chose to have Tohru put first in her “living with humans [in Japan]” notebook for nothing!

The English “the” is a popular word to use in Japanese as an intensifier, similar to how it’s used in a sentence like “this isn’t just an [example], it’s the [example]!”

It’s usually pronounced “za” and often written that way in katakana (ザ) for this usage. (If you type “za” in a Japanese IME, most will offer up “the” as one of the options to convert the text to, even.)

The word she says here is 喝 katsu, which, in this sense, is a stereotypical thing for a Zen teacher to say to a student as a stand-in for explaining some deep Zen concept that words can’t describe. So here, it’s kinda like “Yes this may seem contradictory, but really it’s just too complicated for you! No more questions!”

Obviously that’s oversimplified and it’s used in other ways too (see Saikawa’s father during the sports festival), but just for the purposes of this joke, there you have it.

The word used in the Japanese here is 建前 tatemae. If you’ve ever studied any Japanese, you’ve likely heard about honne vs. tatemae, your inner feelings vs. the front you put up for social reasons.

People new to the language are sometimes prone to approaching that distinction with “well why doesn’t everyone just honne all the time, why play games?”, but of course almost everyone splits themselves like this. You probably hate your boss, but you also probably don’t tell them that to their face to avoid getting fired. Or maybe you have some family members you can’t stand, but act nice around anyway because it’s not worth the trouble to start fights.

Japan just put names to the idea, and maybe leans a little more toward encouraging tatemae in more situations.

This is せいぜい悩むんですね.

せいぜい seizei as an adverb means doing something to utmost extent one is capable of. You’ve likely heard it from a villain somewhere saying something like “Struggle all you like, wahaha!”.

Though it’s not necessarily down-talky like that, in modern times that is the trend (you can use it for yourself no problem, but if used to talk about someone else’s actions it may come off as belittling). Tohru, as one of the strongest beings in the setting and with the pride to match, uses it a lot.

悩む nayamu is to worry, fret, ruminate over (some difficulty etc.).

The sentence in general is one that is highly context dependent, but here it’s Tohru thinking to herself, somewhat impressed, that Ilulu is actually putting serious thought into the question of what she wants to do with her life.

And, as the background suggests, finding it surprisingly adorable/admirable; up until just a few days ago, Ilulu was known as one of the most extremist Chaos faction dragons obsessed with nothing but destruction, yet look at her now. In a way, Tohru’s taken over an older sister kind of role for her.

(For the curious, if the ね was dropped or swapped to a よ here, that would imply she was directing the comment “at” Ilulu, rather than saying it in observation.)

The word here is 契る chigiru, which usually means to swear/pledge (e.g. swear a pact, pledge your love), but can also be a somewhat fancy word for having sex, especially of a married couple.

I feel like I personally would have used more of a euphemism for the translation.

The phrase here is ダメの助 dame-no-suke, where dame is no/bad/can’t do/useless, and (no)suke is a common ending to first names; both actual names and sort of on-the-spot nicknames; someone looking sleepy might be called a 寝坊助 nebou-suke in the same way as “sleepyhead.”

Or, as here, sticking to the end of things for comedic effect or as indication of a panicked/confused thought process.

（ ° ρ ° ）

Just in case: this one is also expressing shock, but a kind of dumbfounded shock. The ρ is a drooling, slack-jawed mouth.

In the next episode preview they talk about where Ilulu will sleep, since they don’t have room for another bed. Ilulu wants to sleep in the closet—or more specifically, the 押し入れ oshi-ire, which is a particular closet layout you’ll find in many Japanese bedrooms.

The typical difference is that an 押し入れ was originally designed for 和室 washitsu, traditional-style Japanese rooms with tatami floors, primarily as storage space for folded-up futon/blankets/pillows, as you would put those away during the day to free up space. Thus they typically are rather wide, mildly deep, and have a waist-height, solid horizontal divider capable of supporting a lot of weight.

They actually are pretty okay for sleeping in if you’re not claustrophobic or tall.

Anyway, I bring this up because you know who else very famously sleeps in one of these? That’s right: Doraemon.

#maidragon #kobayashi's dragon maid #kobayashi-san chi no maid dragon #miss kobayashi's dragon maid #anime #translation notes #season 2

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