#not meant to come off as overly aggressive btw

[elkyralt]

I think that the QSMP community as a whole needs to stop...panicking? when a situation like this occurs, because everything escalates to the point where I saw blatant misinformation and hate thrown around without a care for the truth. I appreciate that speaking out about topics like these is important, and so that the team can see that we support the admins, but being more mindful wouldn't hurt anyone <3

[the-chicken-or-the-banana]

I always wondered how the foxes would react to finding out that it was andrew that "hit on" neil first (specially Kevin, since he was just standing right there while that happened)

(now, i don't think they would willing just talk about it but if one of them slip up...)

Btw: i absolutely adored the goodbye kisses series

AHHH sorry for being so MIA lately but i'm absolutely loving this! also i'm realizing that i'm very bad at actually getting to the point so enjoy a shit ton of irrelevant exposition :)

read it on ao3 here

— ··· —

Kevin didn't understand why they had to come to the zoo. It was smelly, there were kids screaming everywhere, and he'd nearly been stepped on three times in the past 10 minutes. He much rather preferred exy to this.

Team bonding sucked.

He trudged along beside Aaron as Dan, Matt, and Nicky actually tried socializing with the new Foxes. Normally, Kevin would jump at the chance to talk about exy with these recruits, but also, normally he didn't feel like he'd just just rolled through a flaming dumpster filled with screeching, pooping monkeys.

Kevin let out a sigh as they passed some sort of mildly interesting snake exhibit. He nudged Aaron, who was on his phone with a red face, which meant he was either texting lovey-dovey things to Katelyn or blasting an idiot in his Ochem class. You never really knew with him.

"Aaron."

Aaron just scowled at him. Kevin sighed again. Conversing was always so much more exhausting than he anticipated.

"Snakes."

"What."

"Do you want to... see the snakes?"

Aaron blinked in confusion. "Okay?"

Kevin led them to the snakes.

There, they shoved past some families and made it to the front of the glass enclosure.

"Well?" Aaron asked. "Now what do we do?"

Valid question, Kevin thought. He hadn't really considered what they were doing. He just wanted to see snakes.

He told Aaron as much, who rolled his eyes aggressively and went back to his phone.

Kevin felt a tap on his shoulder and twisted around, coming face-to-face (well, more like chest-to-face) with some sort of tour or information guide.

"Hi!" she smiled all too brightly. Kevin wanted to cover his eyes. "How are you enjoying the exhibition?"

"Um," Kevin gulped eloquently, then remembered his media training. "Oh yeah, it's great!"

"Awesome," she beamed. "You know, there's a snake feeding session in about 5 minutes if you and your son are interested."

Kevin's face contorted in confusion. He whirled around, assuming some tiny, lost child was latched near him, but when he turned back, the lady — Sandy — had her gaze intensely focused on the only other small person near him: Aaron.

Oh dear.

Aaron seemed to come to the same conclusion as Kevin did because his eyes widened comically and he hissed "I. am. not. his. son."

Sandy blinked owlishly. "Little brother then?"

Aaron threw his hands up. "I am 21! Leave me alone." He then proceeded to stomp out of the enclosure, dragging Kevin along and leaving a very flummoxed old lady behind them.

"I can't believe it," Aaron kept muttering. "Your son. Your son! I hate life."

Kevin was a bit miffed that he hadn't actually been able to see the snakes, but he figured Aaron's plight was slightly more significant than that.

After a few moments of silent walking (Kevin) and angry grumbing (Aaron), Kevin realized he couldn't see any of the Foxes anymore. He glanced around, instinctively searching for Andrew.

"Hey, do you know where Andrew and Neil went?" Kevin asked.

Aaron scoffed. "They're probably making out somewhere."

"Who's making out?"

Aaron and Kevin both gave unholy screeches as they turned around to find Nicky standing between them, a wide, innocent grin on his face.

"What the fuck," Aaron complained. "Don't do that again, you bitch."

Nicky waved him off. "Shut up. Who's making out? Might be able to close some bets."

Kevin rolled his eyes. "We just can't find Andrew and Neil anywhere. Aaron seems to believe they're off deflowering a zoo Port-A-Potty or something."

"Well then, we wouldn't want to interrupt them, right?" Nicky winked. "Anyways, we're all going to the butterfly exhibit right now so y'all have to join us. I'm not taking no for an answer."

It seemed that they had no choice, so after sharing a resigned glance, Kevin and Aaron trudged behind an overly enthusiastic Nicky while he babbled on about some parrots that he saw. It really didn't seem as interesting as Nicky was making it out to be, but Kevin didn't want to say anything lest he was expected to participate in the conversation too.

They finally reached the butterfly exhibit where the other Foxes were waiting for them. They entered as a mass of loud, mildy buff, smelly athletes and got more than a few glares from the parents of young children who moved out of the way.

But in all this movement, the path cleared and Kevin found... Andrew and Neil? He was about to turn to Aaron and tell him that they evidently not making out, until he noticed how still Andrew was standing and the glee on Neil's face.

Nicky's gaze caught onto them a second later, because he squealed and grabbed Kevin's arm, jabbing his finger at the sight.

"Oh my God," he whispered. "Is that a butterfly on Andrew's nose? That is adorable."

Kevin squinted, and yes, that's exactly what it appeared to be. Nicky's outburst had caught Allison's attention, and she began marching over to Neil and Andrew, the rest of the Foxes in tow.

Kevin could already tell this was going to be a mess.

When they finally reached Andrew, Aaron was the first to speak. "What the fuck?" he asked flatly. Andrew glared at him. Slowly, as to not move the butterfly, he raised his hand to gently flip off his brother.

Nicky immediately started cooing. "Aww, don't worry Andrew! I think you look adorable."

Andrew began slipping out a knife.

On Allison's left, Kevin saw Dan practically shaking with laughter as she pulled out her camera and snapped a picture.

Neil opened his mouth, probably to tell off Dan but Nicky rushed in to talk to him.

"Soooo," he waggled his eyebrows. "I didn't know you could see the future, Neil."

Neil stared at him blankly and turned back to Andrew as he pulled out a map, but Nicky rallied on.

"Like, you must have been able to predict that one day Andrew was going to be this adorable. That's why you asked him out, right?"

"What?" Neil asked distractedly. "I never asked him out."

Kevin blinked in surprise. After a moment's consideration, he realized that considering how utterly oblivious Neil could be, it really was no shocker that Andrew had to ask him out first.

"Wait wait wait," Matt shook his head. "So Andrew asked you out?"

Neil waved them off as he continued squinting at the map he was holding. "Yes yes, just go ask Kevin, he was there."

All eyes turned to Kevin. Kevin was very lost.

"What the fuck," Aaron repeated. "I'm so confused."

"Me too," Kevin muttered. "Me too."

— ··· —

After their long day at the zoo was over, the Foxes finally began the trudge back up to their respective dorms. The younger Foxes dozed off immediately, but the older Foxes gathered in the girls' room to drop off the bags they had borrowed for the trip.

In all the commotion, no one really noticed Andrew and Neil leaving together. But right before they slipped out the door, Renee caught sight of them.

"Good night, you two!" she called. Neil turned around and gave her a tired wave, his body slumped on Andrew.

"Wait!" Nicky scrambled off the sofa. "Before I forget: Neil, how did Andrew ask you out?"

Neil blinked sleepily. "Well," he slurred. "He asked if he could blow me."

The room went silent.

Andrew heaved a sigh and dragged Neil out the door, leaving seven wide-eyed, very much awake athletes in their wake. Slowly, everyone turned to Kevin.

"You!" Allison weakly jabbed a finger in his direction. "You knew about this!"

Too late, Kevin realized what Neil's statement meant. Andrew had asked out Neil in front of Kevin. By offering sex. Nothing could have possibly ruined Kevin's night as much as this information had.

He met the Foxes' eyes slowly. Even Renee looked a bit surprised at Neil's admission, but she was clearly biting back a smile. "Trust me," Kevin groaned. "If I had known this had happened, I would have won myself so many bets."

"Damn," Nicky sighed. "I wish Erik and I had such an iconic story. Who knew the quiet, stabby cousin was such a horny gay bastard?"

"I," Aaron announced hotly. "have never wanted to forget a conversation more than this one."

"But Aaron. Andrew asked to blow him."

"Nicky, I swear— "

"OH MY GOD. They're probably having sex right now! Kevin, could you— "

Aaron put his head in his hands. "Please shut up now."

[tenkoscumslut]

LoV headcanons

This is is there toxic traits when in fights:

Dabi:

Dabi is already described as a sociopath and manipulative.  If you guys weren’t in a relationship he becomes much more aggressive, or if you try to break up he will physically harm you because he doesn’t know how to keep you.

If you guys are in a relationship he would completely degrade you, and make fun of your ‘flaws’ and not give a fuck if your crying.  He will continue to insult you in the meanest way possible.  He honestly doesn't realize boundaries with anything.

What he does to make you feel better:

After your fight, you obviously say you guys are done and leave.  He’d probably have a fake sense of relief and will either go out to just walk and go over the entire fight, or he will take a nap.  After a few weeks he will slowly come to realize how he hurt you, and realized you guys aren’t in a relationship anymore.

Him being the possessive bitch he is, will not want you with another man, female or just romantic partner in general.  He would track you down, stalk you, even go as far to kill anyone who even shows interest in you.  He will start an obsession with leaving dead bodies at your window still, or them but cut up into tiny pieces in a bowl soaking in their own blood.

You guys don’t get back together because Dabi is crazy, and to obsessed with you.  Dabi never got over you, he wont not until you come back to him.

Shigaraki:

(help i'm reading a Hawks cheating story and I have tons of Hawks posters surrounding me.  I want to commit hate crimes on our Birb)

His quirk.  You would be arguing about something simple, like a video game.  Shigaraki is impatient and doesn’t know how to control himself, he attacked you while you were in mid sentence.  He’d be overly furious, and be shouting at you to shut up.

This happened on the regular, this time Shigaraki had taken it to far.  Everyone was use to the fights, they would leave for a few hours and return like nothing had happened.  Both of you were screaming at each other at the bar about a mission where you had to leave the new guy behind to the heros.  Both of you were furious, there was no fighting, not yet anyways.

“You can treat people like that!”, you shouted at your boyfriend who was fuming, “Who gives a fuck?!”, he hissed.  “me! I give a fuck!”, you exclaimed.  You guys were in a storm, it was so much bigger while you two were in it, but once you both looked away you realized how small it was.  Shigaraki grabbed your wrist, he was sure it was 4 fingers.

He didn’t notice the small tick of his pinkie hitting your skin, he didn’t notice the pained expression you wore, or you slowly turning into an ash.  “Tomura!”, you exclaimed, he let go.  You scrambled away from him, tears were falling down your eyes.  Then he noticed your arm slowly decaying, and the scared sobs leaving your lips.  He called Kurogiri, but nobody picked up.

He was frantically trying to stop it, anything.  He grabbed a knife to cut your arm off, but it had already spread to your chest.  The fear in your eyes had him crumbled to the floor.  HIs quirk was destroying everything around him, everything he loved, cared for, everything that meant something.

He knew you’d be gone forever, the only person who loved him was dying before his eyes.  He couldn’t do anything, he’s never felt so hopeless, or so defeated.  He looked at your eyes one last time, you didn’t have to say word, and to be honest it’s better left unsaid.  The feelings still remain the same, sometimes you feel more than you see.  

All the faces Shigaraki saw, every single day, yours was the one that brought him happiness, you were the one who brought him joy and love, you were the face he needs.  And when his mind is absorbed in on screen, and he’s walking blindly through crowds of people, he hears your voice reminding him all is going to be ok.

Now you were just a pile of ash. As simple as that, forgotten, dead.

Now he truly was alone.

Hawks:

(btw guys I am so sorry for this one I love Hawks, he would never cheat on you since he is a Red Tailed Feathered Hawk but I can see him doing this, once again I am sorry)

You guys had a fight, a pretty nasty one.  He had been leaving early in the morning and coming back late at night from work.  You were mostly concerned about his mental health, I mean, yes you did stay up at night and sometimes not sleep for a week, but this was on another level.

Hawks was mad you were trying to tell him what to do, when honestly you were just concerned, and almost begging him to come back and get some rest.  He left for a good few weeks, the entire time you were worried sick the point you had to quit your job, well more of fired for not working and lack of mental stability.

When Hawks returned he seemed quiet, less joyful. You wanted to slap him, but hug him and kiss him, just do everything to him at this point.  You couldn’t bring your feet to move though, the air was thick with a pregnant silence.  He was hiding something, you could tell by the way his eyes were full of fiery spirit or joy.  Even when fighting, or upset, he would look so alive.  Now he looked dead.

He sat down at the counter, drumming his fingers against the marbled surface, “There’s something I have to tell you”, he said.  “I stayed at my assistants house”.  An odd announcement you thought, but he wasn’t done.  “She kissed me”, he stated.

You were in shock, not able to utter a word for a few seconds, “W-what....what did you do?”, you had choked out.  “There’s a reason why I was gone for a week”, he mumbled.  A pain you hadn’t known struck your chest, he had cheated on you.

He fucking cheated on you.

You wanted to cry, to scream, to punch him, to leave, but none of that came up.  The man you had once loved, the man you had thought you knew was someone else.  “I understand if you want to break up”, he mumbled.  Your chest fought for air, all this love, all this compassion, this sympathy, you had gave up almost everything for him.  

“Fuck you”, was all you managed to say before leaving his apartment.

~A few months later~

You had gotten over him, even getting into a new relationship with his Assistant no less.  To be honest she was drop dead gorgeous with one of the most beautiful personality.  You loved her with all your heart, and so did she.  Now she had forgotten her lunch at home, you frowned knowing you would have to go to Hawks agency to deliver it to her.  But you were prepared for that.

You had a knew life, you had an amazing girlfriend, you loved her, and she loved you.  Once you were preapared to go deliever the food, you left the apartment and set foreward to Hawks Agency.  Little did you know Hawks was beyond eager to see you walking towards his Agency, he maybe or maybe not had been watching the security camera footage to see if you were ever going to come back to him.  His wings flapped excitedly when he saw you opening the door with a small container in hand.

“Shoyo, Y/N is coming, let’s go meet her downstairs!”, he exclaimed happily.  Shoyo did not like Hawks anymore, seeing him for the cheating bastard he was made her want to puke.  She rolled her eyes, not thinking it was her Y/N.

She followed him down the stairs, when she saw you a smile appeared, “Hey Y/N”, she chirped happily.  “Hey bub”, you greeted back.  Wait, no, that’s Hawks nickname, and why were you talking to her?! Wouldn’t you hate her for sleeping with your soulmate?!.

Hawks was in awe when you pecked her lips softly and whispered a few obsenities into her ear, Shoyo licked her lips.  “Sounds good babe!”, she said with a blush.  “W-what?!”, hawks shouted.  You looked over at him with a confused expression.  “Why are you with her?!”, he shouted.

“she’s a great person”, you said slowly, “And I love her”.  Shoyo grinned happily, wrapping her arm around your shoulder, he was furious, how dare you date someone else, his assistant no less,

From that day on he stalked you, leaving dead birds at your door, promising to kill Shoyo if you dare even show any affection towards her.  You and Shoyo will never solve the mystery of the man who still loves you.

Toga:

No no no nono nonono she is baby she would not hurt you in anyway during a fight, same with Twice, Mr. Compress, Spinner and Kurogiri!.

[filipinoizukuu]

I saw your post about the FA's translations, and I totally agree. Sometimes, when they do not translate accurately, is to make it sound better or cooler in English, but it just ends up taking away a lot from the context and characters. We know how one of the most affected character interpretations is Katsuki's, a main character, no less. And Izuku and Katsuki's relationship too, which is something super super wrong, considering is deeply intertwined with the main plot of the series, thus if someone misinterpreted their dynamic, this person would miss a bigass chunk of the message the story has.

Here is the panel you mentioned before btw

I remember when I read this, only 10 or 11 chapters into the manga (?), and I was like "...I'm...pretty sure this guy didn't say that" khshsjdhs

OK FIRST OF ALL LMAO HELLO MANG!! THANK YOU SO MUCH AND DW ABOUT IT I TOTALLY GET WHAT YOU MEAN !!

(this is your warning for a long post ahead!)

In any case, I still think you're very correct on this! Not to ramble a bit, but Horikoshi's particular talent in developing the plot of MHA is actually very very brilliant and there are a lot of blink-and-you'll-miss-it details that together, assemble the big picture of what MHA is.

Translations are such an integral part of being able to understand foreign media. MHA or otherwise. The simplest of details say a lot about a character and often times make or break a series because everyone knows that strong character dynamics are what carry even the shittiest of plots.

First and foremost, I want to clarify that because of the nature of fan translations and the fact that most of it is volunteer work/ written out of pure enjoyment of the manga--we shouldn't judge these fan translators too harshly (if at all) for interpreting it the way they want to. FA, as far as I can tell, is a fan-based group that works out of donations.

The first thing I wanna bring up is that when it comes to fandom and its works, there are two types: Curatorial and Transformative. Now, the transformative part is something that must be very familiar to a lot of you. Fanfiction, fanart, and most headcanons fall under Transformative Works (i.e. AO3) because they are all about transforming the canon world to fit each individual's personal preferences. Meta-analysis posts and Character Breakdowns are also classified under this.

Curatorial on the other hand are fandom interactions made with the explicit purpose of being as close to canon material as possible. This is working out the logic of quirks, for example, or memorizing as much canon content about your favorite villain as possible. These are more cold, hard undeniable facts that lend themselves to the DIRECT VISION the creator/author had while making this media. If you were to ask me my opinion on this, this would be the moment where I tell you that the Curatorial side of fandom is where fan translations should (for the most part) fall under.

What people need to know though is that oftentimes, fan translations do not.

Translating isn't and has never been a one-is-to-one process. There are hundreds of thousands of aspects in a language that make it so that it isn't perfectly translatable. Colloquialisms to sayings to dialects, to just plain-out words that don't have a proper English translation to them! Manga is made by and for a Japanese audience, so obviously in a lot of instances, there will be cultural nuances that will not be understood by anyone who hasn't immersed themselves in Japanese culture/language.

So what does this mean then for fan scanlations?

It means that a vast majority of translators teach themselves to only get the essence of the message. They take the dialogue as they understand it and translate it to something of their interpretation. When language and cultural barriers exist, translators do what they can in order to make it understandable to the general populace. This means making their own executive decisions on how they see a character speaking. In example, if they see Todoroki using very direct and impersonal Japanese--one translator might interpret it to mean that Shouto is stiff and overly formal, while another may see it as him being rude and aloof.

The problem is, translators are fans just like us.

Like with the image Mang posted above, the translator based the usage of curse words off of their understanding of Bakugou's character. The lack of foul language in the original Japanese might have made the translator think "Oh. There just aren't enough Japanese cusses for his character." And took that as an initiative to make Bakugou's lines more colorful and violent because this was working off of the image Bakugou had had at this point in canon.

But Codi! You may cry. Wasn't it proven multiple times that Bakugou prefers concise and short lines? They should've known better!

Yes. Maybe they should've known better. But tell me honestly in your first watch-through of MHA, did you perfectly understand Bakugou's character either? Did you catch the whole 'direct and no flowery language' aspect of his language when you first saw Season 2?

Most people don't. I only really understood this fact after I'd read multiple discussions of it and even double-checked the manga myself. These are the kinds of things that only become noticeable with a sharp eye and some time to scrutiny. But the fact of the matter is that when it comes to fan translations, the clout and recognition are always going to go to who can post the quickest.

Am I excusing erroneous translations? A bit, I guess. It's hard for us to go in and expect translators to catch all these errors before release when we ourselves only catch these errors like 4 months in with a hundred times more canon context than these scanlation groups did at the time of its release.

Still, there are plenty of harms that come with faulty translations.

When a translation is more divorced from the original's meaning than usual, it creates a dissonance between what is actually happening versus what the audience sees is happening. This looks like decently-written character arcs being overruled and rejected by most of the readers because of how 'jarring' and 'clumsy' it seems. By the time translators had caught on to the fact that Bakugou was more than just a ticking time bomb, we were already several steps into showing how significantly he cares for Deku.

The characters affected most by these translation errors are often those with the most subtle and well-written character arcs. A single mistake in how the source material is translated can make or break the international reception of a certain character to everyone who isn't invested enough in them to look deeper into the canon source.

It creates hiccups in plots. Things that seem out of character but really aren't. Going back to MHA in specific, the way that inaccurate translations hurt both the 'curatorial' and 'transformative' parts of the fandom is that people have begun to cite them as proof of the main cast's characterization.

Bakugou and Todoroki are undeniably some of the biggest examples of mistranslation injustices.

Katsuki, in a lot of people's minds, has yet to break out of the 'overly-aggressive rival' archetype box that people had been placing him in since Season 1. One of the most amazing aspects and biggest downfalls of Hori's writing was that at first, nearly every character fit into a very neat stereotype for Shonen Animes (Deku being the talking-no-jutsu sunshine MC, Uraraka being the overly bubbly main girl, Todoroki being the aloof and formal rival). He made the audience make assumptions about everyone's characters and then pulled the rug beneath our feet when he revealed deeper sides of them to play around within canon.

What made this part about Horikoshi's set-up so good though were the many clues we were given from the very beginning that these characters were more than what they acted like. Even from the very first chapters, for example, we learn that Katsuki (as much as he acts like a delinquent) dislikes smoking because it could get him in trouble.

That is just a single instance of MHA's use of dialogue to subtly divert our expectations of a character.

Another example is when they replaced 318's dialogue of the Second User saying that Katsuki "completes" Deku with him saying that Katsuki merely "bolsters" him. This presents a different situation, as that line was meant to reinforce the importance of those two's relationship as well as complete the character foils that MHA is partially centered around. By downplaying their developed connection, it becomes harder for the MHA manga scanlations to justify any future significance these two's words have on each other without mottling the pacing of the story.

AKA, it butchers the plot.

With every new volume, there are dozens and dozens more of these hints and bits scattered around! So many cues and subtle foreshadowing at the trajectory of everyone's character arcs--yet mistranslations or inaccurate scans make it so that we don't notice them. This is what I mean when I said that some character arcs are being done great injustices.

Until now, many people can't accept that Katsuki Bakugou cares for anyone other than himself (much less his rival and MC, Izuku Midoriya), nor can they accept that Todoroki would ever willingly work by Endeavor's side. The bottom-line then becomes that because of people missing heavy bits of characterization that become very plot-significant in the future.

When it comes to the point where people can no longer accept or fit their interpretation of the earlier manga events to what is happening in canon, the point of a translation fails completely because it has lead people to follow an entirely different story.

TL;DR - Fan scans are hard. Translating is hard. Don't get too mad at fan translations, but also maybe don't treat them as the catch-all for how characters truly operate. Thanks.

Side note: DO NOT harass FA for any of these things. FA is actually a pretty legit and okay source for scans (they've been operating since like 2014 ffs), but regardless of that they still don't deserve to get flack for their work. You can have any opinion or perspective of canon that you want, I don't care. These are just my two (more like two million tbh) cents on translations. I suggest reading takes from actual Japanese audiences tbh if you wanna know more about the source material of MHA. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[starlightinhumanform]

Friday Night Lights

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Ships: Romantic Prinxiety, Platonic Sleepxiety 

Summary: Roman and Virgil play opposite positions on their rival high school football teams. It’s the Homecoming game and tensions are high. Neither are willing to lose but one must rise above the other…

Warnings (in order of strength): Some language throughout, Just Gays Being Dudes (That is to say, some mildly mildly risqué content)

Genre: Human (High School) AU, Rivals to Lovers, Eventual Fluff 

A/N: I impulsively wrote a bullet point fic (*btw the bullet fic does contain some spoilers so beware of that before you read it*) several months ago and meant to flush it out a lot sooner but I only got a thousand words in before life hit and I wasn’t able to continue. I’m hoping to get the second part done soon, but in the mean time I thought I might as well post this! :D Love you all 🖤✨ 

Chapter 2    Ao3 Link   Fic Masterpost    Fic Request Info

The locker room light was sterilely bright, fluorescent lightbulbs glaring loudly above Virgil’s head. Bodies rushed back and forth in front of him, occasionally bumping into his knees or ruffling his hair. A hand clapped his shoulder but between the padding on his shoulders and the distance of his mind, he hardly felt it.

He sat on the wooden bench, neck bent, eyes closed, and breathing deeply through his nose. He did this before every game. While his other teammates hyped each other up- yelling and pounding each other on the back- he would go somewhere far, far away. It was how he got centered before all the chaos, how he rose above the adrenaline pounding in his heart, how he won. But today was different. Today he had to win.

“Hey, sleeping beauty, you ready to smash this game?”

Virgil grinned as he opened his eyes and turned to look at his fullback, Remy, “Yeah, dude. We’re going to wipe that smug grin off Prince’s face once and for all.”

———————————————

Roman Prince sat in a tight huddle with the rest of his team, wearing a smug grin. This was the homecoming game, basically the most exciting three hours of Roman’s year. Besides, this was his senior year and his last chance to show the rival school where they belonged. (That is to say, in the dirt).

With one last shout, the team started jogging out of the locker room, jumping as than ran and yelling at each other occasionally like they couldn’t even remember how to talk. The energy was electric. Roman lived for moments like this. The only thing he loved more than the pre-game hype was the post-victory euphoria.

He grinned and ran out into the field. It was dusk, a dark blue sky fenced off by the bright flood lights ringing the stands. He was hit by the strange combination of smells that was only found on high school football fields- funnel cake and sweat and turf and axe body spray and face paint. He waved at the cheering stands and blew a kiss at the opposing bleachers who booed at his arrival. This was his world and that ridiculous West Shore High didn’t have shit on him.

———————————————-

Virgil glared across the field at the pompous tackler from Monarch Knights. He was currently blowing kisses over towards his team and it made Virgil want to punch him. The boy was just so full of himself. Unfortunately, he had some right to be. On defensive, he was like a wall- one that simply refused to be knocked down. When he played offense, he moved like a tractor through the other team, mowing them down like they were cards and he was a quickly approaching tornado.

Remy laughed next to him, “I don’t think staring at him is going to do anything.”

“Well, if you do your job, I won’t have to do anything to him,” Virgil shoved him lightly in the chest.

Remy pushed back and it sent Virgil stumbling back a few feet. Virgil was by far the smallest on the team but he didn’t really mind; his job was to be light and fast. Being the halfback meant he got the ball and ran like his life depended on it. All the brutes around him were supposed to keep the field clear enough for him to sprint all the way to the end zone.

Usually it worked out well. Remy would run ahead of Virgil, knocking any threats out of the way and Virgil would carry them all the way to victory. Usually. Sometimes they would come across teams with some on-steroids sort of defense. Sometimes Remy would get pushed to the side play after play and Virgil would spend every down trying to weave his way through an oncoming river. Sometimes Virgil would get trapped in front of an oncoming wall and could hardly run an inch the entire night. More specifically, sometimes they played against Roman Prince.

Monarch Knights was the only school they had lost to the entire season. But not tonight. Virgil refused to be made a fool of.

———————————————-

Roman could feel that stare from across the field. Hundreds of eyes were on him at the moment, but none were so venomous.

It was the little creep who played offense for West Shore. He was one of the strangest people Roman had ever had the displeasure of playing against. Virgil Tempeste was like a chihuahua- tiny, aggressive, and buzzing with energy. Standing next to him felt just as idiotically risky as standing three inches from a lightning rod in the middle of a thunderstorm. When Roman had been forced to shake his hand earlier in the season, he had been half convinced that Tempeste was going to bite him.

As difficult as it was to admit though, he was Roman’s biggest concern this game. The halfback was fast and he knew how to weave through even the best defense lineups. He moved across the field like an ice skater across a rink.

Roman tried to give the little weasel a wave, but he was too busy bickering with the boy next to him to see Roman. Is was oddly disappointing; Roman would have loved to see how mad he could make Tempeste before the game even began.

——————————————————- The pre-game niceties passed by Virgil in a blur. Someone sang the national anthem, a coin got tossed, and the Student Body Leaders said something over the speaker system but it just sounded like overly enthusiastic static.

All that mattered was that they had possession of the ball. That meant Virgil could start his sprint from the very start of the game. Virgil liked his position. He was important, he had purpose, it gave him an opportunity to use all of the anxious energy he had bouncing around inside. Most importantly, his position was the very back of the formation which meant he got to see everyone else’s asses.

He looked out across the field and over his team. Past Remy, their quarterback, and the long line of guards and receivers, the red uniforms of the Knights blazed an angry red. It was such an arrogant colour, bright and brash and filling all of Virgil’s senses. Every time they played against the Knights, those stupid uniforms bothered him a ridiculous amount. Maybe that’s why they wear them- like that thing the matadors do with the red capes.

Virgil shook his head. He needed to stay focused; the game was going to start in seconds at most and he was idiotically thinking about the opposing team’s colours. But if he craned his back he could just see Prince…

—————————————-

Roman glared at the brute in front of him. His mouth guard sat heavily against his teeth. The bitter taste of plastic couldn’t mask the coppery adrenaline that coated his tongue and flooded his brain.

This was his game. His to win, his to conquer, his to dominate. And none of those Concord-grape-looking fools were going to get in his way.

The beast in front of him growled and Roman rolled his eyes. He really thought he could intimidate Roman? Bitch, please. He looked like the type of guy who would hurl slurs at Roman for wearing eyeliner just because he was insecure in his own sexuality (and probably thought that Roman was just a little bit hot). That type stopped scaring him a long time ago. Besides, he could brush that guy off like a fly.

The real threat was several feet behind him. Roman had come to refer to Remy Ristretto and Virgil Tempeste as Team Rocket because they were just as annoying and undermining- except they were often more successful than the cartoon characters.

Roman stopped trying to see Virgil and made eye contact with the wall just a few feet ahead, giving him a wink. He might as well have fun with this. Anyways, he’d have plenty of time to bother Tempeste later in the game.

If you want to be added to my Sanders Sides fic taglist or my Friday Night Lights taglist, please just send me an ask or reply to this post :p (please specify which one you would like to be added to!) 

General Taglist: @phan-fander @abi-beehive @fandomfan315 @cas-is-a-hunter @reggieleigh07 @endless-rain-of-words @vicdehart @im-actually-ok @softnic  Friday Night Lights Taglist: @lcrnbw @itsvirgilelliot @amazing-creepyfloof

[kincringeemporium]

The Promised Party Cat Callout (Long Post!)

Here we go, y’all. I’m not gonna go all-out with the salt and vitriol typical of my longer posts, because... this isn’t about me being salty. This is about highlighting the issues with Mod Party Cat of the fictionkinfessions blog. 

Nor is it intended to bully or chase Party Cat off of Tumblr. Yes, this is a callout post; no, it’s not an invitation to attack the blog with hate or stalk their sideblogs. And no, it’s not just my personal opinion, which we will get to. 

This is intended to show Party Cat exactly what is wrong with how they’re running the blog and how they’re behaving. If they learn from it, good. If they don’t... then, they don’t. 

Last of all, we did gather opinions from both kin and non-kin in a survey. This isn’t meant to antagonize the entire kin community. In fact, the information from kin really helped to support this argument. Thank you to the kin people who did respond to the survey. 

(Btw, survey is still open: https://goo.gl/forms/lDoffQVVmELDo2EZ2 ) 

Obvious content warnings for dark shit apply. (Abuse, depression/suicide, etc.)

With that being said... let’s begin. 

The main reasons for the callout are these: 

Passive aggressiveness to or about other mods

Passive aggressiveness to anons/senders 

“Cutesy” or overly positive typing/behavior in serious situations 

Material that is generally improper for this kind of confession blog 

Hypocrisy

Majority of survey takers agreed with each other and with the points made in this callout

We’ll go one by one. 

Passive-aggressiveness to/about mods

(The bottom half of the mod page was linking to Party Cat’s other blogs and crediting some theme elements. Not relevant to callout.)

There isn’t a lot of information about the other mods or why they left; the general consensus on Maude is that they left because of school, but nothing about Kuroocrow. Now, why is this passive aggressive? 

There was no need to publicly say that there’d been a “catfight” (ha ha, funny) with Maude. We don’t know if Maude even gave Cat permission to say this. If not, it’s disrespectful. (Nothing wrong with saying they’ll be okay.)

What Cat is saying about Kuro is even more aggressive than that. “They refuse to do anything to help!” Okay. That could be true. There’s still no need to rant about it. 

“Ask them on my behalf what the fuck is going on with them!” Adding ‘on my behalf’ comes across as incredibly self-centered. And saying ‘what the fuck’ adds to the aggressiveness. Even if not intentional, that is how it looks, and it needs to be changed.  

All that needs to be said is something like this: “It’s just me, Party Cat! Maude is on hiatus, and Kuro is absent. If anyone knows what’s going on with them, please DM me!” There. That’s respectful and to the point. 

Passive-aggressiveness to Anons/Senders 

This section will be... long. 

So.. there’s a lot of overlap here with the ‘cutesy typing’ issue, but I’ll get to that later. I had to crop the screenshot to just this because there was so much that wasn’t 100% relevant to the callout. (Context for this post: Cat promo’d a kin server, an anon found some unsavory things happening in the server, anon warned Cat, and Cat said this.)

“...Seriously there’s like a few thousand people following this blog” is an unnecessarily rude way to say this. The point itself is legitimate and understandable. It really just need to be reworded so as not to come off as salty. 

Alright, I’d understand this one if there was anything in the blog description or about pages to warn people that the blog can get dark. Confessions about death, suicide, rape, incest, murder, violence, high emotional distress, etc are jarring to see when this blog tends to be lighthearted.  

While this anon does look a little bit defensive or offended, that’s so slight compared to the defensiveness of the response. Personally, I read the question as confused. (Y’all, who agrees with me? Who disagrees?)  

Cat... people don’t tend to expect very dark content on a blog like this, especially when there’s no warning, and they might not even bother to blacklist the tags you use because they don’t expect it. (That’s a guess. If I’m wrong, then smeone should explain it. ) There isn’t much of an answer here - you just answer their question with another question. 

So, okay, I agree with Cat saying that this ask is vague. And it’s not good to add “but” after something like ‘No disrespect...’ -- because “but” does negate whatever precedes it. 

Those are the only things in this screenshot that make sense. Now we’ll get to the things that are passive-aggressive. 

“Maybe it’s because...” Vague in itself. ‘Maybe’ gives you wiggle room to get out of this perfectly legitimate critique, instead of saying “Hey, I seem this way because...” 

“People keep asking me things without providing the barest amount of information...” People actually do provide information. Sometimes it isn’t enough. That doesn’t mean they aren’t trying, and they could be dropping the subject because of how you respond (nobody really wants to interact with someone being rude). 

“I just fill up the dead air with jokes!” Plenty of people do. And it’s fine... just not in this situation. When something serious comes up, you shouldn’t simply make a joke and move on. This reads like an excuse, and even a way to shame people. (”Oh... it was only a joke? Now I feel bad! :(” ) 

“And then people get more mad because... I don’t know!” This looks like you are blaming people for their feelings. People are allowed to feel mad. It’s never okay for them to send hate or be dicks -- which they’re not doing. 

“Nobody reads that page, lollerskates!!” This could easily be solved by a regular, repeated post linking to the FAQ. Or a regular, repeated post explaining why confessions sometimes aren’t answered. Or something like that. Just a bit more effort. 

Okay: “This blog is only for kin. We want to keep it within our community. If you have questions, check out this FAQ!” 

Not okay: “You have no business interacting! You don’t know anything!” 

That ‘sincerely’ isn’t very sincere at all. Most antikin will respect kin not wanting anti interaction on their blogs. Those that don’t are being dicks. And non-kin people who don’t have anything against kin are not at all likely to be hostile toward you, so being this hostile to them is unwarranted. 

It’s confusing that this community, in general, would like non-kin and antis to become educated about what kin is/means... then such an influential blog sends a message like this. Regardless of how people feel about Cat, she does have pretty decent influence and a huge following; it’s very easy for impressionable kids to pick up on this weird double standard. 

There’s nothing wrong with preferring to let someone else educate non-kin. There’s nothing wrong with pointing non-kin in a different direction. 

There’s a lot wrong with blatantly pushing them away like this. It’s rude. 

Inappropriate Cutesy/Overly Positive Typing 

Cat isn’t stupid and knows full well what this anon (same one from before) meant. There was no need whatsoever to make such a giant joke of the question. 

(Not to mention... why the hell would she tell everybody that she has so much medical debt and can’t afford electricity? I don’t know her situation so I can’t say it is/isn’t a joke too. It is something that could genuinely upset people, and some would even believe it. It’s a terrible thing to say.)

“:3c” Not harmful in itself. Just doesn’t belong in a serious ask. 

This anon meant a post in which they were venting about abuse... they were angry that a character had abused their kintype. Cat knew that, considering their abuse content/trigger warning tags. This response looks sugarcoated and mentions some random anecdote about a thing Cat does, which is not appropriate in a situation regarding child abuse. 

This was in response to something that was legitimately annoying Cat and breaking a blog rule. It does not look like an appropriate or effective way to address the issue - even looks immature. Did people take this seriously? 

Yes, this really is a tag on a venting ask about a real life abusive stepfather. A joke. In a venting ask... about an abusive home life. There is a tag saying ‘Your stepdad sucks’, which is good. A joke, though, is too far. 

(Apologies for a repeat screenshot - I saved this one for right now, for the sake of organization.) 

There is, as I’ve been saying, no need for this. It’s very strange to ‘roleplay’ and act cute when there’s possibly a toxic Discord server going around.  

When asked if any of Party Cat’s mannerisms were bothersome, one person said this: 

Others said these things: 

Inappropriate Material 

Shoutout to @queen-dragon-slut (damn Tumblr won’t link you) for getting me this screenshot. 

What the hell, Cat? This is serious -- this is even more serious than people sending confessions saying things like “Ugh, I hate this kintype!” or “Ugh! I hate that character!” This person actually endangered their own health and safety to force themselves into a ‘kin shift’. And it’s in no way Cat’s fault. 

However. 

To not even provide the anon with links to help blogs or any kind of resources, list some tags, and move on, shows an incredible lack of effort. Not only that, but I feel bad for this person. One note. That’s it. Nobody seemed to care that someone was suffering this badly, Cat included, which is, quite frankly, disgusting. 

Again, something this dark doesn’t belong on a casual confession blog (which is what your blog looks like it’s supposed to be). And again, it genuinely fucking worried me. Is this person okay? 

And it’s not even tagged. Not as ‘suicide’, not as ‘depression’, not as ‘suicidal ideation’, nothing. Which is what this is. This person feels like they’re not needed, like they’re pointless, which exactly what suicidal ideation does to you. 

You can’t DM an anon saying, “Hey, you alright?” You can, however, at the very least, link them to the help blog page. 

Mod Ryan, who is also part of the fictionkin community whether we like it or not, has seen: 

Confessions about incest 

Confessions about being abused otherwise 

Confessions about stalking and being stalked

People saying they liked to kill 

People saying they weren’t at all sorry for violent things their kintypes did

Asks saying characters or people should’ve killed themselves 

@queen-dragon-slut said about some of the suicide-ish confessions:  “ Tbh when somebody sends in a confession saying “I killed myself in my canon” it just sounds like they have some fantasies of wanting to kill themselves but cover it up by saying that their kin kill themselves and try to play it off. That’s not healthy.”

Hypocrisy: 

Alright. That looks reasonable -- but wait. 

The asks and other screenshots I just posted do strongly come off as suicide wishes, if not actual notes. 

Here’s what people had to say when asked if they’d seen Party Cat acting hypocritical. I did not even mention suicide asks or dark asks in the survey question: 

____  I wish I had time to say more but class starts in twenty minutes. When I’m back, I will add onto the callout with one more thing: that people feel Cat isn’t doing enough to help distressed anons.

Huge thank you to everyone who helped out with this! 

It’s something that people have wanted to say for quite a while, and something that should’ve been said a long time ago. 

Nobody should be demonizing Party Cat; there is a real person behind the screen. This should be a learning experience for her. Not an attack. 

-K 

[goodguidanceptc]

Ironman New Zealand Race Report  March 2, 2019

Welcome masochists and insomniacs. When people ask me about my races, I usually try to deliver a balance of facts (split times, data, total race time) and feelings (mind & body perceptions, key moments) in an entertaining yet succinct report. As usual, that often means STRONG LANGUAGE. Here goes:

Prologue:

A few weeks prior to the trip, I learned that I’d been selected for the “Ironman New Zealand Experience,” an online contest, administered with typical Kiwi approach by the local council. Read: relaxed, with ZERO Ironman lawyers involved. Six men and six women were selected--based on online posts--to learn a haka, perform at the athlete dinner and attend an after-race luncheon that included a presentation and performance of Maori history and traditions. 

I suspect my "pick me! pick me!” post got me plucked from a small applicant pool. Supporting evidence: of the twelve selected, two others were my training buddies from Chicago, Christine B. and Bernie Mc. SIDE NOTE: Each winner was allowed one additional guest at the luncheon--so a very special thanks to Christine for graciously counting my wife as her guest which meant I had both my wife and son at the luncheon.

Haka is Maori for “breathe fire.” Historically, hakas were performed by Maori warriors prior to battle. These days they are performed ceremonially to celebrate major milestones (marriage, retirement), honor important guests or--perhaps most notably--to intimidate opponents at athletic events (here’s a link). Outside of New Zealand, the most famous and awe-inspiring hakas are performed my the Maori All-Blacks National Rugby team prior to each match. 

I learned that there are hundreds of haka versions, each with its own inherent weight baked into the story it’s presenting. Although it was very different than the aggressive, male-only, pre-battle version the All-Blacks perform, I personally felt a tremendous honor and reverence for the one we learned.

The haka preserves indigenous culture, energetically injects traditional language into a modern forum, gathers and channels group energy by seamlessly melding ritual gesture and movement with raw emotion. It all adds up to a sum greater than it’s parts that’s simultaneously respectful and rebellious. Taken as a whole, the haka is something like how the Incredible Hulk would dance if the Incredible Hulk danced.

All of which is just to say that before I even started the race, I’d already experienced that tremendous joy that comes with receiving an unexpectedly perfect gift. IMNZ was already a success before the race even started. Now, let’s get back to facts...

Total race time = 11:33

Not a PR, but a mature result. “Mature?” you may be wondering, “Really?” Granted, few people would describe anything I do as mature, so perhaps a better word is un-deluded. Why? Because plantar fasciitis made for a “No-Run November” (all long runs performed in a pool), I hadn’t done enough resistance training, and winter holidays not only make it impossible to train, they make it nearly impossible to fuel properly. 

In his book, Elite Minds, Dr. Stanley Beecham suggests giving yourself a W when you trained your best and an L if you didn’t. My record for this training sequence (Nov-Feb) was 89-20-11. ( I gave myself T for Ties on days when training went right but something else went bad...usually diet.) In other words, a respectable-but-not-stellar W average (.741) earned a respectable-but-not-stellar result.

But still, the haka was awesome.

Pre-Race

Slept well. Ate well. No mechanical issues. Huddled briefly with most of the training buddies and Iron sherpas prior to warming up properly in the water.

Swim (1:06 total swim time)

Clear sighting, aggressive line, good tactics (drafted when possible), and even got some help from the current towards the end. That said, the two turn buoys at the far end were both a raucous scrum. First time I ever took a hard shot to the lip. My best swim ever. 

T1 (7:49)

"T1 is a 400 meter run from the swim out...” My ass. If that’s 400 meters, I’m Leslie Jones from SNL. Plus, AFTER the “400 meters,” a winding grass staircase comparable to any third-floor-walk-up or Wisconsin helix--easily another +50 meters at an +8% grade.

Once I did get up Mount Metric Bullshit, I moved right along. Sprayed on some sunscreen, stuffed a plastic bag under the regular bike jersey with some light gloves (in case it was nippy for the first hour), shoes on in the tent. Go.

Bike (5:38, technically a bike PR)

Two loops. Windy? A tad. The outbound tailwind was so strong, I struggled to maintain target watts. Get that? I didn’t have to pedal as hard as I’d trained to because I was easily traveling +20 mph on flat sections. Ditched the plastic bag and gloves at the first aid station because it was sunny and mild and I was feeling really great. Of course, logic dictates that inbound would be a shitstorm. Which it was. Oy. Mixed with some crosswinds too just in case you, oh I dunno...tried to pee on the bike and took too long...or wanted to take in some nutrition. Nasty. I caught myself using a bastardized mantra from IMAZ, “Frontside fast side, backside strong side” which morphed into “Out bound, throw down; In bound, get down.” whenever I was tempted to chase or draft.

A word on drafting: it’s illegal in Ironman races. BUT! By slipping into the draft zone of somebody passing faster than you are passing then letting them go, you can save energy and still stay within the letter and spirit of the rule. That said, 12 meters = 6ish bike lengths so don’t be the fucko that lingers.

Repeated that song and dance inbound on both loops. It’s a terrible thing when you can’t stay in aero-position because you gotta pee but can’t pee because the wind stuffs any momentum you need to keep your leg straight long enough to break the seal. But it WILL keep you legal.

For you data geeks: Normalized Power was 197 but I AVERAGED 20 m.p.h.

Another notable: the bone-shaking chip-seal they use to pave most New Zealand roads. It just rattled my whole rig from pedals to fingertips to helmet. That shit literally rattled my Torpedo bottle right out from between my aero-bars about halfway through. I’d already taken in the nutrition so I left it (apologies to all the Tidy Kiwis and the whole leave-it-like-you-found-it philosophy) and just held fresh bottles in with my thumbs as needed.

T2 (4:13)

Efficient but could have been a tad quicker. At this point in the race, I was on plan, feeling good and ready to attack the run. Nutrition was on point. Legs were solid, stomach was a non-issue and weather conditions were near ideal. Sunny and delightful low 70s. I was actually looking forward to Run Special Needs where I’d planted a fresh shirt and an extra bottle of nutrition.

Run (4:36 aka: avg 10:39/mi)

I went sub-4 hours in Louisville under raining mid-40 degree conditions. If I could have just matched that, I’d have delivered a juicy PR of under 11 hours.

It seemed reasonable that flat IM-LOU shitstorm would vaguely equate to hilly IM-NZ sunny delight, yes? 

No.

That three loop run over what my training bro Andrew T. would call offensive hills was having none of that nonsense. Turns out, I was woefully undertrained. My legs were just not up to the second and third loop of hills, despite biking to plan, executing nutrition properly, and taking the first loop at a very easy RPE.

In past reports I’ve shared some of the actual mental chatter that runs through my head but in this case none of my mantras were very interesting or helpful. What I have learned to do when I’m truly falling apart is to reinvest in technique. Focus on the extremely immediate present, which I used to counter punch one particularly angry and persistent neg that I just couldn’t shake. See if you can pick it out of the following scientifically gathered brainwave transcription:

...chatter-chatter-chatter...BREATHE...left-right-left-right-Toe-off-knees-up-hands-up-lean-easy-at-the-ankles-glutes-tucked-somebody-fucking-LIED-to-me-goddamBREATHE!-Toe-off-knees-up-hands-up-lean-easy-at-the-ankles-glutes-tucked-somebody-fucking-LIED-to-me-goddamnit-Toe-off-left-right-left...chatter-chatter-chatter...BREATHE

On a slightly more-vulnerable note, I will share this: typically, a few tears leak out at special needs. Hormones? Pain? Mental breakdown/relief that the marathon is half over? All of the above, probably. Just a few moments of a grown man losing it. (Do NOT watch Ricky Gervais’ After Life while jet lagged. But DO watch it. Amazing. Shut up. Don’t judge my process.)

Anyway, I was all business during the Special Needs of this run but lost it right after a particularly steep descend where some guardian bros had set up an “unofficial aid station” consisting of Red Bull, handles of vodka, and liters of Jaegermeister. A runner just ahead of me had grabbed something off their card table and their robust cheering were suddenly horrific screams warning him off of chugging it. I was just tickled and toasted at the same time and it all came gushing out. Just all kinds of quads burning gasping ugly face craughing (learned that word from a tweet praising After Life, btw). Of course my male ego would NEVER allow me to overly express vulnerability in front of the drunken bros, thoughtful though they were. So I kept running. A woman running along side me kindly asked if I was okay, I said, “Oh...yeah...this...just happens,” between gulping breaths, “The good...news...is...it’s much...later...than usual.” Which cracked her up, so... y’know, pay it forward.

After slogging my way through the third loop, and making my way through the finishing chute, where the normally incomparable Mike Reilly butchered my last name, I was told that I’d been on the leaderboard during the bike and immediately fell off during the run.

So even though I did not over-bike, I did under-train. Plus, I did not need to go directly to Medical in shock, which suggests that my race plan, nutrition strategy and execution was pretty spot on. IMAZ was a PR of 11:19 and IMNZ was 11:33.

OVERALL RACE GRADE: C. Just a C. 

OVERALL EXPERIENCE GRADE: A+

As with prior races, IMNZ yielded some incremental improvements. As I said at the top, this was a mature result, with which I am unsatisfied. I haven't yet done my best race. I haven’t yet DONE MY BEST. There is clearly opportunity for improvements to all five aspects of my racing:

Swim was well executed. Still room for growth.

Bike was properly executed. Adequate. If anything, I could have pushed more.

Run. Ugh. Time to throw myself into Runner’s World and CARA and make like Forrest Gump and Prefontaine and Mo. Also, back to Hokas. Or maybe Altras. The Brooks I ran in were farts. The blisters on my toes had blisters. Not kidding.

Fuel strategy and execution was on point, although I was a few kilos heavier than previous races. Holidays and too few resistance training sessions.

Transitions were adequate.

Am I one of the guys at the pointy end of the bell curve? Clearly still yes. Maybe I’ve just evolved beyond a standard group training plan. Self-Coach? I’ve got the credentials and experience. Back to a previous coach? Maybe a new coach? I’d take some applications. Yes.

In the meantime, I’ll see you in Chattanooga for some 70.3 action in May, 2019. That’s only two build cycles. Ima go noodle around in TrainingPeaks.

WAIT. HERE’S THE BERNIE STORY...

Bernie McNally is one of those people I am just glad to have in my life. This race report would be wholly inadequate if I didn't share how this amazing woman is absolutely unstoppable.

First, she got everybody who trained for New Zealand (at Well-Fit) a fleece.

I forgot to mention she broke her ribs in a bike accident a few months ago.

Then, in what can only be described as the luck of the Irish, she charmed her way into the “New Zealand Experience” haka class. Just showed up and got in. Turns out one of the women selected didn’t show up. Classic.

Here’s the unstoppable part: at around Mile 110 of the New Zealand Full fucking Ironman race, she hit a cone and went over her bike handle bars. Road rash up her arm, split her knee open and cracked her head/helmet on a curb. A bystander said, “Do you need some help? I’m calling an ambulance.”

Her reply?

“Just help me get my chain back on.”

So he did. And she finished the bike. The medics in T2 told her she needed stitches.  She said she didn’t have time, to just patch her up so she could get on with it. She finished the race with half an hour to spare. Words fail.

All I know is this: whenever I’m feeling like I can’t get it done--and it can be anything from driving in traffic to folding laundry to a holding pace on a long run--I know exactly what I’ll hear. 

A thick, sassy, Irish brogue doing the haka.

WITH GRATITUDE FOR…

I’m very grateful to my lovely wife Susan and my wonderful kids, Peter and Veronica for their support. Susan, you are my salvation.

I’m grateful to have the expert professionals Coach Russ and Coach Sharone and the entire Well-Fit staff and athletes who generously share their wisdom.

I’m grateful to my inspiring and impressive training partners. Especially the seven hardcore savages that got it done in New Zealand--Adam, Christine, Dan, Kelly, Megan, Mike, Will and Bernie.

I’m very grateful to anybody willing to excuse my terrible smell, deplorable language and barbaric sounds during training.

Maximum gratitude to Well-Fit, Get-A-Grip, Fleet Feet and all the pools I use.

I’m grateful for Crushing Iron (C26), Matt Fitzgerald, Joe Friel, Training Peaks, Scott brand bikes, Apple, Ironman.

Thank you to all the on-course maniacs cheering and making signs and wearing all sorts of crazy outfits to show love and support. For strangers exercising.

I’m grateful that I’m able to race triathlons. I’m grateful to you for reading.

[mooneyedandglowing]

you know you’re doing something right when you’re losing followers

the truth isn’t nice, i know. i’m very not sorry.

this post isn’t really about that though. increasingly, this blog–this space–is where i put my frustrations, my thoughts, my day-to-day blah-blah-blah. it’s nice to shout at the void sometimes. especially when one doesn’t confide in others on any basis of regularity.  i always wonder how i got to where i am, who i am. that’s interesting to me. i used to be so dreadful. so boring. so unethical. so self-involved. so unproductive and (in the core of the self) afraid of everything.  i think trauma has a lot to do with the way i’ve been shaped. i’ve been sexually assaulted on more than one occasion. i’ve been beaten. i’ve been abused. i’ve overcome extreme circumstances and harships. i’ve had my trust betrayed, my naivety capitalized upon, my nature manipulated, my reality twisted. and i’ve survived. and i have hardened i suppose. there are many things i would not stand for now that i used to allow in my life. i’ve shifted my focus as well. much less is there concern around pleasing others (outside of my closest sphere) and much more a concern about my actions always being in line with my inner self. much less do i care even of things that i once thought to be important. like romance. what i really mean here is that i see it in an opposite light. if i am to love, to have a partner, that partner will enrich my life—nothing more, nothing less. i suppose what i once thought is that another could make my life, could give it meaning and fulfillment. and i believed that for a long while despite the fact of others never being fulfilling in the way i thought they were meant to be.   oh man. and how i even do things each day. i wonder about that. there is a bit of an imposter syndrome that i feel although i preach to my best friend to do away with hers. somehow some things come so easily to me that it feels as if i am cheating by my own existence (hold up before you begin to think i think too highly of myself–there is much i am bad at–and so many people whom i admire because they exceed me in those things). it feels strange to accomplish anything is what i really mean. i come out of criticism. from false friends or lovers and their endless negging or passive aggressive comments or issues with themselves projected in a harsh and punishing heat against my body or mind. to family downplaying contributions made. it amazes me what i am able to do when i have been told and made to believe what all it is that i cannot or should not even try for.   and it amazes me the love i still feel. for individuals. for humanity. god. it is so so ugly. so wrong. so unjust so often. so violent and hateful and so without thought. exploitative. cruel. war-fueled. all our hands so bloody and unclean. yet always with the possibility for beauty that is sometimes attained even by simple acts of kindness between people not enough—but a place less like hell this has already reached deeper than i intended.  what i intended to say is this: within the past two days i’ve completed and sent out my taxes, renewed my state ID, read 450 pages (am a speed reader so this one is not really as impressive or laborious as it may sound), wrote 20 pages (essays and the completion of a likely overly thorough–because that is how i do things–chapter outline for a client), done laundry, fiddled around with finances (it relaxes me to budget and plan) and paid some bills, cleaned the house where it was needing it the most, completed research for clients and school, sent off a formal thank you to the human who gifted me the fountain pen (this human gives me hope of people like myself, of empathy that runs and runs and runs everywhere and does not stop despite the pain. who has overcome and expanded instead of shrinking), washed dishes, kept up with exercising and healthy eating, soothed my angry skin, taken care of pets and people, kept company with friends and family, and slept eight hours a night. what i intended to say: i’ve learned to be a person in touch with all parts of the self. i enjoy it. i do away with this society’s alienation from the self and others. i do away with it.  i can take care of myself. and i can take care of everyone else. they are not mutually exclusive. and responsibility does not mean suffering. when one is present for all that they do, one can find the light.  oh & btw: i’m putting purple dye in my hair soon.

[kincringeemporium]

So I promised y’all a high school kinnie storytime. Suffer/enjoy.

First off, for some context, I was generally a dick in high school. Nobody has to be a social butterfly, and if you’re more focused on your education than having lots of friends at that age, hey, good on you. I’m not dragging that. I’m saying that I was -- again -- a pretentious little piece of shit. 

Now, being a pretentious little piece of shit, I sought people who didn’t follow the usual crowds and didn’t agree with the most common points of view in my school. These people were, in my mind, smarter. Better. More worth my time.  

However, being rather bored and lonely and wanting at least one friend, I kind of shrugged off some red flags that showed up among the people who did meet my stupid fucking high standards. I didn’t ignore these red flags, but shrugged and went, “Well, if I don’t hang out with them, I won’t be hanging out with anyone.” 

So, here are the key players in this magical tale of bullshit. 

If, by some fucking miracle, either of them manage to find this (because they are most definitely on tumblr), I don’t want some shitsplosion out of my laptop screen -- so, fake names.  

Marc, who claimed to be an aroace trans boy. (I say “claimed” because... you’ll see.) 

Z, who was apparently nonbinary, also I can’t remember anything about their name other than that it had a Z in it. 

Alright... So I decided to start a writing club. Marc, Z, and some others showed up because I’d been polite to them in classes and such. We also shared some interests. Mainly Steven Universe and Tumblr. (The others aren’t really important, so I won’t mention them beyond that.) 

In the first meeting, we shared our names, pronouns, hobbies, and years of writing experience. Marc and Z didn’t come up with any hobbies aside from “Internet”, “anime”, and the dreaded “social activism”. At this point, the logical bit of my brain was like, yikes. 

But it gets way, way worse. We also shared our Tumblr urls (my high school Tumblr is still out there, btw). I will now list some of the shit that I encountered on their blogs. 

“Soft confused transboy, they/them or he/him” on Marc’s about 

Undertale Sans in front of green/yellow/black flag as Marc’s icon 

Some edgy, fake-deep line in Z’s about (I don’t remember what) 

“They/them, xe/xem” in Z’s about 

A whole fuck ton of SU Peridot posts from Z 

Posts on both blogs @’ing each other, tagged with “qpp”, “pda”, and related shit

“lol Big Gay!” and “ewww straights!” jokes all over both blogs 

Yeah. Yikes. But still, I was pretty desperate for something to do. 

So I kept talking to them. I thought Marc was alright, so tried to find out more about him. Eventually we got round to talking about crushes, orientations, etc. I asked Marc what qpp meant. 

He gave me some long winded explanation that didn’t actually explain much. What I understood from it was that a qpp is a friend who you love, but aren’t in love with. (Which is... just a best friend.) 

Z gave a similar explanation. And I thought... alright. I guess that’s that. Weird, but eh. 

Until one day, a ‘tag something about your crush/s.o.’ post appeared on my dash from Marc tagged “I kissed my qpp today!! I’m so happy!!!” And I was... confused. Didn’t Marc, as an aromantic person, not fall in love? Didn’t kissing someone and getting those warm fuzzy feelings mean you were in love with them?  

I decided to do some digging. An initial scroll through Z’s blog revealed surprisingly little of interest... but then I found, buried somewhere in their links, a “me” button. So I clicked it. Selfies. I was about to click off before I reached the very bottom and, being in public, had to do a double take to ensure no one was behind me. A bikini selfie, yay! And Z was 16. Butt out, tits out, all of it. Tagged with, you guessed it, “body positivity”.  

Now... I’m not insulting overweight people (Z was a little overweight) for liking themselves, feeling confident, etc. I’m not even insulting them in particular wearing bikinis, even if I don’t like bikinis in general. I’m saying that at 16, Z should not have been posting sexy selfies under the guise of a movement that claims to be built on self acceptance and confidence. 

So, I pulled away from Z some. 

That left me more time to talk with Marc. I didn’t say a word about his relationship (bc that’s what it was) with Z. Looking back, I find it odd that throughout our entire friendship, Marc didn’t mention dysphoria. Of course nobody has to tell all their friends all about their dysphoria. There was just no “Ugh, I got misgendered earlier” or anything about “pre-transition, I...”  But anyway. 

I started looking through Marc’s blog again. There were a hell of a lot of Sans posts and it didn’t click with me back then that Marc may have been a fictionkin. I don’t recall if he tagged the Sans posts with anything kinnie-ish, but holy fuck, there were a lot. It was weird. 

Also weird was that as the year went on, Marc stopped showing up to writing club as often. I asked him what was up, and said that if he didn’t want to be in the club anymore, he should just let me know - because that’d be okay. But no, he made some excuse and walked away from the conversation. 

The next day, I got a text from Marc saying (not verbatim, but still): “Hey, my anxiety has been really bad lately, and my doctors are saying not to participate in social clubs like this. I’m too tired. Really sorry!” 

 I said it was fine and didn’t think much of it. He and Z still spent a lot of time together in the halls and such; I didn’t put a ton of thought into that, either. 

Sometime the next week, a writer friend of mine (who was also in the club, and not annoying or shitty or anything), invited me to a GSA meeting. I was bored and decided to try it out. 

When I walked in, guess who the fuck I saw? 

Marc and Z.  

He could not even meet my eyes. I’ve never seen a person look that fucking guilty. My writer friend could tell something was up, smartly wanted no part of it, and excused herself. 

Marc had been attending GSA meetings the entire damn time, while claiming that he was following doctor’s orders by leaving writing club. 

Fucker. 

That’s the last I saw of Marc and Z.  

And all the things that add up to suspiciously kinnie-like behavior... 

Z’s neopronouns 

Marc’s weird mogai-ish version of aromanticism 

Marc’s Sans icon and Sans posts

Z’s fuck ton of Peridot posts 

Both Z and Marc encouraging each other’s behavior 

Marc’s lying and fake anxiety claims 

“soft transboi” 

So... that’s that. 

I’ve got more cringe-inducing stories, too. I can tell y’all about: 

A girl in bio class who was a complete ballsack

she was obnoxiously, overly sweet 

she used her mental disabilities as an excuse to act ignorant 

she thought being gay was a choice 

she clearly had no respect for transgender people (with legitimate gender dysphoria) 

was a complete pain in the ass to my favorite teacher 

I did something passive aggressive to her because I was done with her shit 

Two girls in anime club who were also huge ballsacks 

appeared to hate each other 

one was very small, quiet, and a loner 

other was loud, edgy, and unironically said “we’re here and we’re queer!” 

quiet one 100% lead me on  

loud one was a fucking dick to me

there’s a plot twist 

bonus: loud dickish one tried to be my friend and I was not falling for it

-K