#run for me

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Run For Me

Came across a Tumblr @xoalin4 who wanted fanfiction stories about The Man in the Mask (Scarecrow). Im writing a short story on this.

You can find it below:

Also, I will be publishing a book this year based off this particular man!!

AO3: SoulOfDarkness

Wattpad: CarnivalCarnage

[inkskinned]

i got rickrolled today but it didn't work because i have adblocker installed, so youtube just told me i violated the terms of service. yesterday i was trying to edit a picture as a joke for my girlfriend, and google made me check a box to prove i'm human because i wasn't "searching normally".

it isn't just that capitalism is killing fun and whimsy, it is that any element of entertainment or joy is being fed upon by this mosquito body, one that will suck you dry at any vulnerability.

do you want to meet new friends in your city? download this app, visit our website, sign up for our email list. pay for this class on making a terrarium, on candlemaking, on cooking. it will be 90 dollars a session. you can go to group fitness, but only under our specific gym membership. solve the puzzle, sign up for our puzzle-of-the-month-club. what is a club if not just a paid opportunity - you are all paying for the same thing, which makes you a community.

but you're like me, i know it - you're careful, you try the library meetings and the stuff at the local school and all of that. the problem is that you kind of want really specific opportunities that used to exist. you are so grateful for libraries and the publicly-funded things: they are, however, an exception - and everything they have, they've fought tooth-and-nail to protect. you read a headline about how in many other states, libraries have virtually nothing left.

do you want to meet up with your friends afterwards? gift your friends the discord app. you can choose to go to a cafe (buy a coffee, at least), a bar (money, alcohol) or you can all stay in and catch a movie (streaming) or you can all stay in bed (rent. don't get me started) and scream (noise complaint. ticket at least).

you want to read a new book, but the book has to have 124 buzzwords from tiktok readers that are, like, weirdly horny. you can purchase this audiobook on audible! your podcast isn't on spotify, it's on its own server, pay for a different site. fuck, at least you're supporting artists you like. the art museum just raised their ticket price. once, they had a temporary exhibit that acknowledged that ~85% of their permanent art galleries were from cis white men, and that they had thousands of works by women (even famous women, like frida! georgia o'keefe!) just rotting in their basement. that exhibit lasted for 3 months and then they put everything away again.

walmart proudly supports this strip of land by the street! here are some flowers with wilting leaves. its employees have to pay out-of-pocket for their uniforms. my friend once got fined by the city because she organized a community pick-up of the riverfront, which was technically private property.

no, you cannot afford to take that dance class, neither can i. by the way - i'm a teacher. i'm absolutely not saying "educators shouldn't be paid fairly." i'm saying that when i taught classes, renting a studio went from 20 bucks an hour to 180 in the span of 6 months. no significant changes to the studio were made, except they now list the place as updated and friendly. the heat still doesn't work in the building. i have literally never seen the landlord who ignores my emails. recently they've been renting it out at night as an "unusual nightclub; a once-in-a-lifetime close-knit party." they spent some of those 180 dollars on LEDs and called it renovating. the high heels they invite in have been ruining the marley.

do you want to experience the old internet? do you want to play flash games or get back the temporary joy of club penguin? you can, you just need to pay for it. i have a weird, neurodivergent obsession with occasionally checking in to watch the downfall and NFT-ification of neopets. if i'm honest with you all - i never got into webkins, my family didn't have the money to buy me a pointless elephant. people forget that "being poor" can mean literally "if i buy you that toy, i can't afford rent."

you and i don't have time to make good food, and we don't have the budget for it. we are not gonna be able to host dinner parties, we're not made of money, kid. do you want some kind of 3rd space? a space that isn't home or work or school? you could try being online, but - what places actually exist for you? tiktok counts as social media because you see other people on it, not because they actually talk to you.

there was a local winter tradition of sledding down the hill at my school. kids would use pizza boxes and jackets and whatever worked, howling and laughing. back in september, they made a big announcement that this time, rules were changing, and everyone must pay 10 dollars to participate. when im not scared shitless, i kind of appreciate the environmental irony - it hasn't gone below 40. so much for snow & joyriding.

i saw a bulletin for a local dogwalking group and, nervous about making a good first impression, showed up early. the first guy there grimaced at me. "sorry," he said. "there's a 30-dollar buy-in fee." i thought he was joking. wait. for what? the group doesn't offer anything except friendship and people with whom to walk around the city.

he didn't know the answer. just shrugged at me. "you know," he said. "these days, everything costs money."

[lastoneout]

I just love it when video games let you do really stupid shit that kills you immediately. I love being like "oh this is a terrible idea" and being able to do it and then die. It's good game design.

[tanjir0se]

Disclaimer these are just a small sampling of some possible writer traits I’ve noticed either in myself or in fics I read. Also consider a rb for sample size !

[nenoname]

thinking about how stan was able to play off finding journal 2 so easily in front of so many people

but when he soon finds out 3 was under his roof for over a month he needs a moment to regain his composure

he's been looking for the books for over 30 years and they both just fall into his lap in less than a few days

[asteroidtroglodyte]

5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

10 years ago, I was watching my Potential and Opportunities dissolve and evaporate in an ocean of cheap gin and expensive whiskey.

But 5 years ago, I was in Rehab.

One of the exercises they had us perform was to imagine ourselves happy, 5 years in the future.

Many of us in that room had forgotten how to imagine nice things happening to them. A few snorted (well, I snorted), finding the notion that we’d even still be around in 5 years grimly humorous.

For about half of us, it was the last stop on the way down.

But I indulged the therapist. I was there, after all, because I did not want to die. So, I imagined myself, 5 years hence.

Happy.

It came to me all at once; an artistic remix on Norman Rockwell’s Freedom From Want, reframed with myself placing food at the table.

Sunday Dinner At My Place, I answered, when it came my turn to share my fantasy. I was asked what food I imagined eating.

It’s not the meal itself, I said, it’s the implications framed around it. Sunday Dinner At My Place means that I have a Place. It means that I have Family that will actually speak to me and friends who actually want to see me. It means money enough not just to feed myself but others too. It means having the time to spare to take the time preparing the meal.

A lot of nodding heads all around me. A struck chord. Many people with no Place, in that place. Nowhere that would lament their leaving.

5 years hence, as I lay down to sleep in my Home, with my Wife and my Son, surrounded by my Art and my Flowers, I reflect.

It was a long road. It was hard. We lost people. So many people. There were long days and long nights and hospital stays. Angry arguments with ghosts. I changed, in ways I never hoped for, or expected. Good ways, finally, for once. Slowly, against the backdrop of a world in chaos, I found my mind.

Sometimes, My Wife wondered aloud, what she did to deserve me. After some stumbling with my feelings, I eventually settled on an answer.

I’m a Rescue.

She gave me a Home.

And, so, I gave her a Family.

It seemed fair

This Sunday, my folks, which whom I have not had a shouting match in years, will come over for dinner. We will cook and eat together. My Friend became My Wife, and she took a piece of me and with it she made Our Son. There will be many hugs, and no violence. Good Things Happened.

I don’t know who needs to hear this, but you don’t know what the future holds.

don’t give up yet, ok?

It could get good, even.

[tsotc]

fucking obsessed with the uni town i live in

[lgbtlunaverse]

"How did Shuro think he could marry Falin when he hated her brother?" you have to understand. Toshiro is from a whole different country. In his head he and Falin would move back to the Eastern Archipelago and they'd see Laios twice a year tops. You can pretend to get along with in-laws you don't like for a few days a year, people do that all the time.

The actual flaw in his plan– which shows he doesn't really understand either of the Touden siblings– is the fact that if the plot hadn't happened and Falin had for some reason said yes to his proposal, Laios would have packed his bags and moved away with them instantly.

[undressmewithyoureyes]

Run For Me - SIX

               Soft cotton wrapped around my body. My eyes flutter open as they adjust in the dimly lit room. My room. I go to move to get out of bed and pain radiates throughout me. I feel like I’ve been hit by a Mack Truck. I’m no longer naked. I’m wearing one of my oversized t-shirts with all the old horror serial killers on it. Fitting right?

               The soreness between my legs reminds me that I’m still alive…for now. My stomach turns at the horror that resides downstairs. Did he clean it up? Is he gone? Or is he waiting for me to open the door and kill me where I stand? The questions that go through my mind cause my chest to tighten and anxiety to spread across my body.    

               How could I be so deranged that I enjoyed last night in the woods? That I didn’t even care about my friends in the house? How could I be so deranged that I want to be dominated like that again? “What the fuck is wrong with me?” I ask myself under my breath.

               The sound of something dropping hard against the floor causes me to jerk my head towards the closed wooden door and my heart to drop in my stomach. He’s here. I swing my sore legs over the bed and go to stand. I drop to my knees, my body making a loud thud as it hits the floor. I wince at the pain from the harsh wooden floors colliding with my sore knees. I guess this is how Bambi felt the first time he learned to stand and walk.

               I grab ahold of the bed post and struggle to help myself up. Every muscle in my body letting me know how much I overexerted them several hours ago. I get to my feet and slowly make my way to the door – becoming more stable with each step. I press my ear to the door to hear what is going on, but all I hear is footsteps downstairs.

               I quietly open the door and my eyes land straight ahead at the door across from me. Callie. Her door is shut, just like it was when we went to bed last night. The longing in me wants to make sure she’s okay, but my mentality tells me I might have to be admitted if I see anymore dead bodies.

               I stand there with a war going on between my heart and my mind if I should tiptoe across the balcony that overlooks the living room, or head down the stairs to the right and face the man that made me feel things I’ve never felt before.

               Fuck it.

               I take a step forward. Then another and by the fourth step, I’ve walked past the stairs and headed towards Callies room. I no longer hear him or whoever it was downstairs – which makes my anxiety stir even more within me. I don’t dare look over the banister. Too afraid to see if River and Jordan are still there or if he cleaned it up for his next victim. Me, or possibly Callie.

               I get a few steps away from the door and reach for the doorknob. The cold brass metal sends electricity through my hand and up my arm. It feels colder than normal, but I know it’s because I don’t know what’s on the other side of the door.

               “I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” the deep voice says from behind me.

               I let out a scream and quickly turn around. The same hand that just held the brass metal, now rests against my chest to calm my beating heart. He approaches with me slow steps – like a cat cornering a mouse. I step back with each of his steps as my back collides with the wooden door to Callies room.

               His hands come up and rest themselves against the door – each beside my head, trapping me.

               “Why?” I ask with a shaky breath.

               His eyes continue to pierce through mine, “You’ll find out soon enough Chloe.” His tone one of authority, but also with a hint of amusement. He gets off on this. My glacier blue eyes stare back at his honey orbs and the memories of me writhing beneath him causes the addicting feeling to come back between my legs.

               Even though I cant see his face, I can tell he’s smirking, “Come,” he says as he pushes off the door and extends a hand out towards the walkway above the living room. It wasn’t a suggestion, but a demand. I hesitate but take a step forward in the direction of his outstretched hand. His eyes glued to me.

               I pass by him slowly – hesitant on what he may do. The stairs that lead to the first floor of the house seem to gradually extend with each step I take. My head feels light as I grow closer to what I may see again. I feel him closely behind me. I know it’s because he’s not wanting to create too much distance – afraid I’ll run off again. Even though I wouldn’t mind being chased again and dominated. This time he might actually kill me.

               Again, I ask myself, what the fuck is wrong with me?

               I’m halfway down the stairs when my eyes divert to the couch. I cant help it. My knees buckle as a strong arm wraps around my waist to hold me up from tumbling the rest of the way down. Tears sting against my eyes from the gruesome sight before me.

               I feel him take another step. His body now flush with mine as his arm stays around my waist. “You still need to make up for last night,” he says to me. His lips right next to my ear, but the fabric from the mask rubs against me.

               Anger builds in my chest. I feel used. I feel dumb as hell thinking I could outsmart him. This is his web and I’m just the insect that was foolish enough to land in it. I gather my strength and take a step forward – his arm slipping from around my waist. With each step I take towards the main floor of the house, my anger turns into rage.

               “Fuck you,” I say through gritted teeth as soon as I get off the stairs.

               His footsteps stop. He lets out deep chuckle, “Dare to repeat that?”

               My body shakes. The rage inside of me begging to be let out. I slowly turn around to face him – my fist balled at my side. My knuckles white. “Fuck. You.”

               “Fuck me?” he questions with amusement in his voice as he points a finger at himself. I hear the click of his tongue and within a second, he clears the last two steps. I reach out to hit him, but he grabs my arm and pushes me against the wall – pinning my arm behind me. The air in my chest forced out as my ribs collide with the hard sheetrock. My head forced to the side as he steps behind me – his body pressing me further into the wall.

               “I don’t hear you saying anything now. Cat got your tongue Chloe?” He presses his hips into me further and I can feel his growing erection. I close my eyes as my body betrays me in this fucked up situation. I don’t know how much more my mind can take, but my body craves more. More violence.

               “Why are you doing this?” I ask breathlessly.

               His masked face leans in close to my head and he takes in a deep breathe. Relishing in this moment, “Why not?”

               The sharp pain in my arm from being pinned in the odd position causes me to try and get out of his grasp. He tightens his hold on me, making me draw in a sharp breath, “You’re hurting me.”

               “Good.” His voice low, “You like the pain.”

               Fuck you.

               “Are you going to be my good girl and listen?” he asks me – enunciating ‘my’ and ‘listen’. God, why does my body respond to him the way it does?

               I swallow hard, “Yes.” Its barely audible, but a defeat is a defeat.

               “Yes what?” His grip on my arm almost unmanageable as I rise to my tip toes to try and alleviate the pain.

               “Yes sir.”

               He lets me go and I slump forward against the wall – my arm throbbing. “In the kitchen, there are some tarps. Grab them.”

               I take a step forward, cursing under my breath at him, “Chloe.” I freeze. It’s a warning and I’m pushing my limits. I slowly look up at him – finally finding his eyes. If looks could kill. But why is he sparing me? He nods his head to the kitchen and like a dog, I listen.

               Three blue tarps lay folded on the kitchen table and my stomach drops when I count them. Three. River, Jordan and Callie. Or maybe he let Callie go and the third one is for me. I reach out with shaky hands and grab them – his eyes not leaving me once.

               “Taken them to the living room.” The one fucking place I don’t want to go. I take in a deep breath and make my way to the horror that is embedded in my mind. As I round the corner of the couch, Jordans head lays on the floor – rested against the leg of the coffee table. When her head fell from me pushing it, the leg must have stopped it.

               My breathing picks up as I stare at her bodyless head. Her eyes open and staring at me with the same look as how I feel inside. Dead. “Move the coffee table and spread out one of the tarps.” My eyes slowly move from Jordans head to him. He stands at the other end of the couch, arms folded like he’s proud of his work and wants me to congratulate him.

               I take in a deep breath to hold back the tears. Tears from what? I don’t know yet. Anger? Sadness? Rage? Maybe a bit of everything. I set the tarps on top of the coffee table, grab the end of it and pull it back towards me. Jordans head rolling a bit as the leg slides away. I turn my head to the side and stare at the fireplace. The fireplace I sat beside the night this shit went down.

               The table screeches across the wooden floor as I move it out of the way like I was asked to do. Look at me being obedient. Once the table is cleared from the couch, I grab the first tarp, open it and spread it out across the floor in front of the couch.

               “Good. Now take one of them and put them in the center.” He’s enjoying this. Enjoying seeing me in pain. Not physically, but mentally and emotionally.

               Them.

               Put them.

               “They have names you know?” My tone sharp. “You could at least have enough respect to call them by their own name after what you did.”

               His eyes narrow at me, “Would you like to join them?”

               I snarl my lips as I glare at him. When I don’t respond, he takes another hit at me, “Didn’t think so. Put one of them in the center of the tarp. And don’t make me ask again.”

               I lean my head back a bit and take in another deep breath. I’ll start with Jordan since she’s closest. I go to grab her headless body off the couch and stop, “Can I at least get some gloves?”

               “No.”

               I roll my eyes and scoff. I reach for Jordans arm to pull her to me – blood pouring from her neck as I lean her forward. It runs down her arms and onto my hands – making my grip on her slide. My hand slips and she falls over onto River. Tears prick my eyes and my vision blurs. I blink making the tears fall down my cheeks.

               I reach for Jordan again with my hand that isn’t bloody and grab her other arm and pull her to the floor. Her weightless body hitting the hardwood with a thud. He continues to stand there – feet planted with his arms crossed over his chest. I take a few steps to Jordans feet and grab them – dragging her to the center of the tarp.

               After getting her where I want, I lift her up under her arms to flatten out the tarp where it rode up under her from being drug. Her blood drenching my t-shirt and running down my arms and legs. After getting the tarp how I want, I gently set her down and fall to my knees.

               I cant do this.

               “Don’t forget the head.”

               I get up and stand on shaking legs as I turn to face him. Tears streaming down my face. His eyes go from my face and slowly make their way down to my blood covered feet. Without thinking, I take off in a sprint and my hands collide with his chest – shoving him back a few steps.

               “WHY?!”

               Another shove.

               “FUCK YOU! YOU PIECE OF SHIT!”

               Another shove.

               “YOU’RE A FUCKING COWARD!”

               He takes each shove. His arms never uncrossing as he stares down at me with amusement in his eyes.

               “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” Before I can even stop myself, I reach up and pull the woven mask off his head. My eyes widen. I thought he would try to stop me, but now that I’ve seen his face, there’s no denying that third tarp is for me.

               His eyes go from amusing to pure evil. To watch his eyes, darken before me in the light, sends chills down my back. I swallow hard and take a step back taking him in. He takes a step towards me, “Oh, you’ve done it now Chloe. Theres no saving yourself now.”

               I swallow hard. He takes another step and my legs hit the side of the couch. The space between him and I is life and death. He’s attractive for sure. Dark black hair, just like mine. His skin slightly tan as if he spends most of his time outside without a mask. His jaw is defined, but not too much and a thick five o clock shadow making him even more masculine.

               “Chloe?”

               A familiar voice from upstairs causes me to jerk my head in the direction of Callies room. My eyes widen knowing that she’s alive, but not knowing what’s about to come. He takes another step – his body towering over me as he reaches down and grabs the woven mask from my hands. His eyes are glued to mine.

               He places the mask back over his face and slowly turns his head to look in the direction behind him at Callies room then back to me. I shake my head no. A silent plea, but he ignores it and makes his way towards the stairs.

[giolovesyousm]

hang it at the louvre PLEASE.

alice bellandi after winning against israeli opponent in the judo match runs towards her girlfriend to cheer and kissed her in front of an homophobic italian politician, more specifically: the prime minister of Italy.

and her face is absolutely priceless.

[nosnexus]

I hate Kipperlilly - but this level of nickname shenanigans would have killed me on the spot in high school

[science-lings]

my dad saw ao3 open on my computer and asked if that was like my writing club and just so you know that's what fanfic writers are now, we're all in the same writing club where we all write about the same media and show each other our little stories and that's kind of cool actually

[iamfabiloz]

what happens in the honda odyssey stays in the honda odyssey

[fanaticalthings]

the muskification of twitter except it's lex luthor instead of elon lol

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[twilight-zoned-out]

Learning about the Doctor Who specials' expanded budget: oh no, what if they overuse CGI to look more 'professional' and high-budget?

The first scene of the Doctor Who Special:

[genericpuff]

Tbh at this point you should just make your own webcomic app/website because it would probably be 100 times better than whatever going on with webtoon right now.

hahaha it wouldn't tho, sorry 💀

Here's the fundamental issue with webcomic platforms that a lot of people just don't realize (and why they're so difficult to run successfully):

Storage costs are incredibly expensive, it's why so many sites have limitations on file sizes / page sizes / etc. because all of those images and site info have to be stored somewhere, which costs $$$.

Maintenance costs are expensive and get more so as you grow, you need people who are capable of fixing bugs ASAP and managing the servers and site itself

Financially speaking, webcomics are in a state of high supply, low demand. Loads of artists are willing to create their passion projects, but getting people to read them and pay for them is a whole other issue. Demand is high in the general sense that once people get attached to a webtoon they'll demand more, but many people aren't actually willing to go looking for new stuff to read and depend more on what sites feed them (and what they already like). There are a lot of comics to go around and thus a lot of competition with a limited audience of people willing to actually pay for them.

Trying to build a new platform from the ground up is incredibly difficult and a majority of sites fail within their first year. Not only do you have to convince artists to take a chance on your platform, you have to convince readers to come. Readers won't come if there isn't work on the platform to read, but artists won't come if they don't think the site will be worth it due to low traffic numbers. This is why the artists with large followings who are willing to take chances on the smaller sites are crucial, but that's only if you can convince them to use the site in favor of (or alongside) whatever platform they're using already where the majority of their audience lies. For many creators it's just not worth the time, energy, or risk.

Even if you find short-term success, in the long-term there are always going to be profit margins to maintain. The more users you pull in, the more storage is used by incoming artists, the more you have to spend on storage and server maintenance costs, and that means either taking the risk at crowdfunding (ex. ComicFury) or having to resort to outsider investments (ex. Tapas). Look at SmackJeeves, it used to be a titan in the independent webcomic hosting community, until it folded over to a buyout by NHN and then was pretty much immediately shuttered due to NHN basically turning it into a manwha scanlation site and driving away its entire userbase. And if you don't get bought out and try your hand at crowdfunding, you may just wind up living on a lifeline that could cut out at any moment, like what happened to Inkblazers (fun fact, the death of Inkblazers was what kicked off the cultural shift in Tapas around 2015-16 when all of IB's users migrated over and brought their work with them which was more aimed towards the BL and romancee drama community, rather than the comedy / gag-a-day culture that Tapas had made itself known for... now you deadass can't tell Tapas apart from a lot of scanlation sites because it got bought out by Kakao and kept putting all of its eggs into the isekai/romance drama basket.)

Right now the mindset in which artists and readers are operating is that they're trying way, way too hard to find a "one size fits all" site. Readers want a place where they can find all their favorite webtoons without much effort, artists wants a place where they can post to an audience of thousands, and both sides want a community that will feel tight-knit. But the reality is that you can't really have all three of those things, not on one site. Something always winds up having to be sacrificed - if a site grows big enough, it'll have to start seeking more funding while also cutting costs which will result in features becoming paywall'd, intrusive ads, creators losing their freedom, and/or outsider support which often results in the platform losing its core identity and alienating its tight-knit community.

If I had to describe what I'm talking about in a "pick one" graphic, it would look something like this:

(*note: this is mostly based on my own observations from using all of these sites at some point or another, they're not necessarily entirely accurate to the statistical performance of each site, I can only glean so much from experience and traffic trackers LMAO that said I did ask some comic pals for input and they were very helpful in helping me adjust it with their own takes <3).

The homogenization of the Internet has really whipped people into submission for the "big sites" that offer "everything", but that's never been the Internet, it relies on being multi-faceted and offering different spaces for different purposes. And we're seeing that ideology falter through the enshittification of sites like Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, etc. where users are at odds with the platforms because the platforms are gutting features in an attempt to satisfy shareholders whom without the platforms would not exist. Like, most of us aren't paying money to use social media sites / comic platform sites, so where else are they gonna make the necessary funds to keep these sites running? Selling ad space and locking features behind paywalls.

And this is especially true for a lot of budding sites that don't have the audience to support them via crowdfunding but also don't have the leverage to ask for investments - so unless they get really REALLY lucky in EITHER of those departments, they're gonna be operating at a loss, and even once they do achieve either of those things there are gonna be issues in the site's longevity, whether it be dying from lack of growing crowdfunding support or dying from shareholder meddling.

So what can we do?

We can learn how to take our independence back. We don't have to stop using these big platforms altogether as they do have things to offer in their own way, particularly their large audience sizes and dipping into other demographics that might not be reachable from certain sites - but we gotta learn that no single site is going to satisfy every wish we have and we have to be willing to learn the skills necessary to running our own spaces again. Pick up HTML/CSS, get to know other people who know HTML/CSS if you can't grasp it (it's me, I can't grasp it LOL), be willing to take a chance on those "smaller sites" and don't write them off entirely as spaces that can be beneficial to you just because they don't have large numbers or because they don't offer rewards programs. And if you have a really polished piece of work in your hands, look into agencies and publishing houses that specialize in indie comics / graphic novels, don't settle for the first Originals contract that gets sent your way.

For the last decade corporations have been convincing us that our worth is tied to the eyes we can bring to them. Instead of serving ourselves, we've begun serving the big guys, insisting that it has to be worth something eventually and that it'll "payoff" simply by the virtue of gambler's fallacy. Ask yourself what site is right for you and your work rather than asking yourself if your work is good enough for them. Most of us are broke trying to make it work on these sites anyways, may as well be broke and fulfilled by posting in places that actually suit us and our work if we can. Don't define your success by what sites like Webtoons are enforcing - that definition only benefits them, not you.