#that's not a cultivation style-specific problem

[mxtxfanatic]

A lot of people say that Wei Wuxian's demonic cultivation is inherently disrespectful to the dead. I personally disagree but I'm not really sure how to say that, especially when they bring up how he treated the ghosts for the war or the torture session.

It's confusing 😔

Ok, to answer this question, we must first cover the basics of both what Wei Wuxian's cultivation is and how cultivators deal with the resentful dead in the orthodox path. 1) Wei Wuxian is not s demonic cultivator. He is a ghost cultivator, hence why his cultivation path is called "the ghost path" and why the title of the novel is a misnomer. The cultivation world calling him a "demonic" cultivator is meant as a slander of his work, not a neutral description of it:

“Let me ask you, are fae, demons, ghosts, and monsters all the same kind of being?” Wei Wuxian smiled. ���No.” “Why not? What are the differences between them?” “Fae come from living non-humans, demons from living humans, ghosts from dead humans, and monsters from dead non-humans.”

—Chapt. 13: Elegance III, fanyiyi

By definition, Wei Wuxian is not a demonic cultivator, and every cultivator is taught this distinction from a young age. Moving on, 2) this is how orthodox cultivators deal with the resentful dead:

[Lan Wangji] nodded his head politely, and quietly said, “First, release the spirit from suffering. Second, suppress it. Third, eliminate it. For the initial approach, use the loving memory of his parents, wife, and children to comprehend his deepest desires and fulfill them. If this fails, move to suppression. But if the crimes are too great and his resentment too bitter to dissipate, eliminate him root and branch; his continued existence must not be permitted. Cultivators must conduct themselves carefully in accordance with this sequence of measures, without error.”

—Chapt. 14: Elegance IV, fanyiyi

The ideal goal of dealing with the resentful dead is that you get them to move on. That is why these are not three separate paths but a single route:

Lan Wangji said, “Thus release from suffering is the primary strategy, suppression, supplementary, and elimination, the last resort.”

However, only the first part of this route leads to peace for the suffering spirit; the other two either lead to prolonged suffering or utter destruction. Wei Wuxian's ghost path opens up a second route, the so-called fourth solution:

Everyone inside the elegant room stared at them in shock. The old man suddenly shot up. “The purpose of subduing demons and exterminating ghosts is to alleviate suffering! Not only have you forgotten this, you want to incite further resentment! You are inverting the means and the ends, without a care for humanity!” “If some people’s suffering can’t be relieved, why not make it useful?” Wei Wuxian replied. “When Yu the Great tamed the floods, redirection was the superior strategy, and obstruction the inferior. Suppression is like obstruction, it can only be worse—” Lan Qiren flung a book at Wei Wuxian, who quickly ducked out of the way. The color of his face unchanged, he continued to run his mouth. “Spiritual energy is energy, but resentful energy is also energy. Stored inside cores, spiritual energy is able to cleave mountains and drain seas, and is available for human use. Why can’t humans use resentful energy too?”

The end goal remains the same as the orthodox path's, just with the addition of using the dead's resentment to achieve your own goals in the meantime. To say that Wei Wuxian "creates" the resentment by which he then controls the dead he summons is to ignore that he actually can't create resentment and must rely on the resentment the dead already have. We learn this in the opening chapters of the book at the Mo Mansion where he must summon the corpses of the Mo family to fight because the other walking corpses that were already in the house had too little resentment to be useful. It's even in this very example of him pitching the theoretics of the ghost path: he doesn't say "just dig up any corpse" but specifically that the heads of those executed by the executioner (and therefore who would have resentment remaining in death) should be dug up to deal with the fierce corpse of their killer. And when everyone has burned off their resentment, it goes without saying that it would be easy to liberate them.

Now to address the whole war time torture session stuff: if we remember what I just said about Wei Wuxian being unable to create resentment and that in his speech he believes that the best dead to summon in order to subdue another resentful being are the dead who were killed by the being, then the fates of the Wen involved in the fall of Lotus Pier makes sense. Wei Wuxian does not control any of the dead like puppets, as explained here, so the ghosts got their own revenge themselves. It's not accidental that every Wen supervisory post was covered in ghost repellent talismans where none existed previously. As for the ghoul child and blue-faced woman, they had some sort of history with each other and Wen Chao and Wang Lingjiao that probably wouldn't be too hard to guess:

[Wang Lingjiao] collapsed onto the ground. Back then, the second that she opened the chest, she saw what was inside. There was none of her beloved treasures, only a pale-skinned, curled-up child!

—Chapt. 61: Evil, exr

The ghoul child, however, had bit out an entire chunk of the flesh on his hand and spat it out. He continued to devour the palm. Wen ZhuLiu grabbed the child’s head with his left hand, as though to put so much force on the small, cold head that it exploded. The blue- faced woman threw the bloodstained bandages on the ground and, like a four-limbed creature, she crawled to Wen ZhuLiu’s side almost instantly.

...

Wei WuXian, “Of course it’d be with a certain thing gone.” Jiang Cheng was disgusted, “You’re the one who did it?” Wei WuXian, “It’s nasty if you think about it that way. Of course I wasn’t the one who cut it off. It was bitten off when his woman went mad.”

—Chapt. 62: Evil, exr

"His woman" can't be Wang Lingjiao, because Wang Lingjiao died suffocating on the stool leg she stuffed down her throat. When Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji find her body, the stool leg is still halfway out of her mouth. "His woman" is the blue-faced woman, who obviously holds extreme enmity towards Wen Chao. It's the same situation when Wei Wuxian resurrects Wen Ning:

Wei WuXian, “Congratulations to you for successfully draining all my patience. Since you don’t want to speak up, let’s let him answer on his own.” As though it’d been waiting for his words for a long time, Wen Ning’s frozen corpse suddenly moved, raising its head. Before the two nearest inspectors could even scream, each of their throats was clenched by a hand as firm as iron. Expressionless, Wen Ning raised up the two short-legged inspectors high in the air. The empty circle around them grew larger and larger. The head inspector shouted, “Young Master Wei! Young Master Wei! Please go easy on us! Doing this in the heat of the moment would lead to irreversible consequences!” The rain fell heavier and heavier. Drops of water trickled incessantly down Wei WuXian’s cheeks. He suddenly spun around, putting his hand on Wen Ning’s shoulder before shouting, “Wen QiongLin!” As if a reply, Wen Ning let out a long, thundering roar. The ears of everyone within the valley ached. Wei WuXian spoke one word at a time, “Whoever caused all of you to be like this, let them meet the same end. I give you the right to do so. Settle everything!”

—Chapt. 72: Recklessness, exr

Wei Wuxian didn't "make" them do anything; he just corralled them and focused their resentment.

While Wei Wuxian is being very glib in his Cloud Recesses discussion—because it was an on-the-fly theory posed specifically to piss Lan Qiren off—the way he uses it in practice is actually much more contained. He also, personally, treats the dead more respectfully than most other cultivators, who react to the presence of non-aggressive dead with violence or disgust (reread how he interacts with the ghoul child and blue-faced woman, or the ghost girls in the restaurant, or the skeleton hand, or A-Qing, etc. etc.). So to answer your question: no, Wei Wuxian's ghost path does not disrespect the dead. It gives those with too much resentment or a who have a grudge too difficult to fulfill another way to burn off their resentment in order to achieve peace. While an individual can use it disrespectfully (Xue Yang, who uses it as a basis for his demonic cultivation), it is not inherently disrespectful in and of itself.

[anachronismstellar]

DOES SQH SLEEP WITH WITH A MONK PEAK LORD???

IT'S CALLED SQH GOTTA GET THEM ALL, MY FRIEND, OF COURSE HE DOES

Sorry it took me so long, had to do a bit of research that turned out to be a lot of research BUT HERE YOU GO

I got the name Gao Qinggao from the amazing 00janeblonde and their FAQ of their fic here

Heads up for me bullshiting a lot of things Airplane style lol

Also bondage and praise kink?

I hope y'all like it!

---------

Ku Xing Peak wasn't one of the most prestigious among its siblings, far from it. If one compared it to the beauty of Qing Jing, the forests of the Scholary Mountain would be greener than emeralds. Or if one searched for riches and luxury, they would have better luck going to Xian Shu Peak, Qi Qingqi sparing no coin to accommodate her disciples.

But if they were allowed to take pride in something, it would be their talismans. From the most basic trick like heating water to the most intricate barriers and bindings, their work had been a reference throughout the cultivation world. If there was a talisman, they would have been involved in either its creation or its improvement.

So imagine what a surprise it was to see the An Ding Peak Lord using talismans Gao Qinggao had never seen before.

First, he thought it was an artifact. Shang-Shixiong was close friends with higher peaks, thus being able to pull favors and acquire relics he would never dream to see. The problem with that theory is that he had seen his own surprised mirrored on Shen Qingqiu's and Zhangmen-Shixiong faces as Shang Qinghua took a folded paper from his sleeve and pressed it into the table. It grew in size until it occupied the entire top of it with a huge map, detailed descriptions of the regions, and topography showing next to the main locations. It would be difficult, and it would take a lot of effort, but this effect could be done with a mixture of talismans after modifying certain radicals.

What made him pause was that, during their talk Mu-Shixiong asked about a specific place and Shang-Shixiong just put his both hands over it, dragging them away from each other making the map focus more and more until they could see the vegetation and when they were finished Shang-Shixiong dragged his hands again but closer, making the map to go back to it's original level of detail.

That would be mixing two types of talismans that shouldn't work together, you can't have one without nullifying the other and-

Gao Qinggao was intrigued.

The technique was interesting, yes, but it wasn't his area of expertise. He had always been a more practical person, focusing his studies on suppression of energy and Qi restoration. Meaning, he could just brush it off and send one of his disciples to ask about it later.

But the fact that he could just ask and understand was a compelling argument.

"Shixiong used a very unique technique today at the meeting. I had never seen someone use talismans to make images show up like that," he approached the other when he had finally left Shen Qingqiu's side. "This one is very interested in learning how Shang-Shixiong did that."

"Oh er," Shang Qinghua blinked, fiddling with the folded paper on his hand before hiding it away. "This little thing? Uh. I don't know if- Uh, I don't know the technique, I just found it- yea! I found it in ah. Oh I don't remember but-"

"Oh?" He wouldn't deny he was a bit disappointed, but not surprised. "Do you mind if I borrow it for research? I've never seen talismans interacting like that, I know some disciples that would be delighted to see it as well."

Shang-Shixiong started to fidget, picking on his sleeve where the paper had been hidden, looking everywhere, but Gao Qinggao.

"I'd love to, really, but this is kinda vital for my peak? I'm afraid I can't lend it. It has got all the trading information and our suppliers, I can't risk it."

"I understand. Would Shixiong allow one of my disciples to go to An Ding to examine it then?"

"I'm afraid the information is too sensitive to be examined by someone outside Lord ranking and-"

Ah. He almost heard the sound of a coin dropping.

He was a bit younger than the others, coming to his position by an urgency of appointing someone to fill his master's place. Not to say he wasn't competent, far from it, but he was aware that his situation and age made the other peak lords underestimate him, or dismiss his opinion when the topic diverted from talismans.

Another disadvantage of his age: he hadn't had the time to mellow down; to reign his fury as expected from a monk. He was no Liu Qingge, of course, but with enough pressure...

"This one apologies for bothering Shang-Shixiong." He spit through clenched teeth, making a point of leaving without a bow, his breathing so labored that one could hear it all the way from the demon realm.

How dared Shang Qinghua hide this knowledge from him?! From his peak?! And what was the point of hiding it anyway? Wouldn't be wise to share it so they could improve it?

Maybe Shang Qinghua was using something forbidden. But there were layers upon layers of protective arrays in the meeting room. The smallest fizzle of demon energy would set off the alarms.

So there must be another reason for Shang-Shixiong to not let him at least look at the desing. Could it be- No.

Did Shang Qinghua think he couldn't learn it?

Ooooh, that just made him more furious.

It might be difficult, but now that Gao Qinggao knew it was possible, he would be able to replicate somehow. His Head disciple could handle the next weeks by themselves, he would grab all the books and parchments they had about redimensioning images, also the ones they had about crystal mirrors and how they were made.

Then he would rub it off Shang Qinghua's face. And maybe spend two weeks in inertia to balance all the spite and anger he was feeling.

---------

It didn't work.

Gao Qinggao laid on his private quarters with piles of papers around him, some crumbled up, others torn into pieces. Blessed be the Heavens that he had never minded being under inertia for long periods of time, because he couldn't remember the last time he ate.

Every single attempt he had made, failed.

Not for his lack of knowledge, he could see where the logic behind it, but it was if the structure kept dancing in front of him, fluttering away like a bird as soon as he reached to grasp it.

Where in all realms had Shang Qinghua found this technique?! Maybe in the Demon Realm? But none of the books that they collected from there had anything like it.

To put it mildly, he was furious.

He was starting to consider that Shang Qinghua was the one who wrote it, and his handwriting was so atrocious he created something without intention. The problem with this is that one, he hadn't seen the talisman close enough to see if it was Shang-Shixiong's handwriting. Second, it was impossible for him to have created it accidentally, the amount of contradictions and spells that had to be put on the paper, on top of using the right ink for it...

He just needed to look at it. Just to look to have a direction to where to start.

He put everything away and stood up, dusting his clothes, calling for a bath even though it was the middle of the night.

He was going to An Ding.

----

"You are a good person, and you will be an amazing Lord, Gao Qinggao," his old master said while passing the Peak Lord robes to him, the soft brown and gray so plain one wouldn't recognize him as a high cultivator outside the Peaks. "Just promise me you will work on your temper."

And he had promised, with heavy heart and aware that would be an ever losing task. He had done his best over the years and had made progress.

But not enough it seemed.

"I have all night, Shidi, and we know I'm more patient than you."

Gao Qinggao ignored the voice across the room, testing the bindings around his wrist as he controlled his breathing. When he had flew to An Ding and tried to sneak inside Shang-Shixiong's house, he wasn't exactly thinking. All he could remember was his blood boiling, eyes seeing red while his mind kept going on and on and on that he was doing this for the good of the Sect, that Shang-Shixiong was the one in the wrong for keeping secrets, that he was just going to look that's all.

He failed to consider that a man with secrets like Shang Qinghua wouldn't survive this long if he weren't good at keeping other people away.

"Shidi," Shang Qinghua gave him a tired sigh that Qinggao ignored to focus on more important things such as at least getting his hands free. "If Shidi doesn't talk to me, I have no way to help you."

He kept his mouth shut. To be honest he didn't even know what to say. He had no plan, he just wanted to take a look at the map! Frustration burned his face red, showing up in blotches that went all the way up his shaved head.

"Very well, Shidi. Let's do it your way then."

He glanced at Shang Qinghua, but a second later the other peak lord left his line of sight. There was the sound of a chair dragging through the floor, then callous fingers grabbed both of his wrists, the thumb pressing against his pulse.

It was as if Shang Qinghua had dropped snow water down his spine, the array drawn on the ground shinning for a second or two before the was released. He felt his body sag, his quick reflexes barely saving him from falling on his face.

"Now, Shidi, this is a very simple array, one that you know very well, I believe," Shang Qinghua dragged the chair again, this time sitting in front of Gao Qinggao, elbows on his thighs, the low light playing shadows on his face, turning his expression somber.

Gao Qinggao couldn't help but shiver, dread tickling down his neck and chest, realizing that he might have entered the tiger's den. And once more, he was hit with a mix of feelings towards the other man. He couldn't help the anger bubbling under his skin, forcing him to slam the barrier with his open hand, all in vain. But at the same time-

At the same time.

His mouth felt dryer than a desert. He exposed like an open wound as Shang Qinghua stared at him up and down and then up again, the usual bubbly and warm expression nowhere to be seen. No, that face he had seen only a handful of times, either when the Sect Leader was about to do something stupid to protect Shen Qingqiu, or when the peak lords were not behaving during peak meetings.

To be under the entire focus of it felt as if the rest of the world grew quieter, a little darker, the lights clinging to Shang Qinghua as if he were glowing with unreleased power.

"A simple truth array, but I bound you to it, so you may not leave." Shang Qinghua's low voice reverberated in the tiny room, their faces separated only by the shimmery wall. "As you have decided to be difficult, I have decided it was time for you to be a bit more truthful."

"How dare you demand truths when you are the one holding back secrets!" He couldn't help but shout, unable to hold back in face of such hypocrisy.

Like clouds parting after heavy rain, Shang Qinghua’s face relaxed, his whole posture softening up to his usual friendly self. He groaned, his deep sleepy voice waking up something in Gao Qinggao's belly, making him blush for another reason entirely.

"Oh Gao-shidi," he kept his voice down, followed by a chuckle. "Is this still about the map?"

His amusement only fanned the ember of his anger, making it burn brighter. How dare Shang Qinghua mock him? How dare he laugh at him like a cruel demon trapping Gao Qinggao and treating him like a play thing?

"Of course it is! You denied my single request for you while raining gifts to all the other lords! I'm tired of bland favoritism, my peak and I might live a frugal life, but aren't we also requested to share our precious knowledge?!"

He had been so worked up he didn't realize the moment Shang Qinghua shifted his feet, ready to pounce, releasing the array but grabbing Gao Qinggao hands once more, twisting his arms to bind them against his chest.

"You're a feisty one, I've forgotten that," he commented as he slowly lowered Qinggao on the floor, making him kneel, the sound of paper followed by the dry sensation of it on his legs making him flinch. He struggled for a few moments, giving up as soon as Shang Qinghua gave him another chuckle.

He was truly trapped.

"Tell me shidi, what is upsetting you? The fact that you were denied something you took for granted as yours or the fact that you haven't been praised for your contributions to the Sect?"

He was rendered speechless, the fire in his belly almost an inferno, his breath picking up but not in anger. He couldn't hold back a gasp, shame and desire clashed upon him as he felt stripped naked by how easily Shang-Shixiong had seen him.

"Is that it then? Praise?" Shang Qinghua started to walk around him, humming as he touched the back of his robes, fixing the sleeve that had slipped down his shoulder, inked fingers brushing over his clavicle. "Gao-shidi has been so good for us. So kind to share his talents."

He felt paralyzed, hands closed in a tight fist, desperate to cover his face, to hide his shame, unable to move. He was pinned down by burning brown eyes, the light reflecting on them, turning them into gold. It had been years, so many years since he had felt so stricken by desire. And to be hit full force with his sultry voice was- was unexpected, that's all!

"This Shixiong apologies for denying your request. You've been one of the most valuable resources for our Sect, you should be told how good you have been."

"W-What?"

"You're such a good craftsman, Gao-shidi, your talismans are without flaws. I can release you and show you a few of my own."

He didn't mean for the low soft "Please" to leave his mouth, not even sure anymore of what he was asking for. Yes he desperatly wanted to see the talismans, but he was also desperate to feel Shang-Shixiong touch him, somewhere, anywhere, just to do something, take responsibility for setting off this fire on him!

"... Unless you prefer to stay like that?" Shang Qinghua's asked as he touched Gao Qinggao's cheek, brushing his fingers along his jaw so he could tilt Qinggao's face up. "Bound by talismans you can't break?"

"Oh heavens-" he moaned, truly moaned as he closed his eyes, wishing for any Gods that might hear him to swallow him whole when he noticed the damp spot on his pants.

"It's okay shidi," Shang Qinghua's hands went down his neck, fingers brushing the sensitive skin of his shoulders, sliding under his robes. "We can work on your patience as we go."

------------------

do I feel slightly blasphemous for writing this? Yes

Do I believe that this is what Airplane would have wanted? Abso-fucking-lutely

And as we can see I'm upping my rating as we go fjsbskdnskfm not full explicit but maybe,,,,,,,,,,,, who knows

Thank you so much for the ask and for giving this a read!! :D

Here is the masterpost of this insane AU asdhfiusdh

6/12 peak lords, Wine Peak here I gooooo!

[enuui]

long thoughts abt watcher

its so weird to me that people are being like ‘you aren’t entitled to free content’ about the watcher situation bc that’s not the actual problem here. artists deserve to be fairly paid, but the watcher situation reveals a truly bizarre level of business incompetence and a lack of market research.

they actively cultivated a relatively young audience, actively claimed to be ‘eat the rich’ style liberals, then turned over and told that audience that they need to pay $6/month. which again, fine! dropout did it and survived, but dropout had so much more backing it up, went about the transition slowly, and on top of that, their audience was older and therefore had more spending money available.

watcher has none of that. it would be one thing if they had started marketing to an older audience months ago, or changed the style of their content to match the heavy production costs. but as it stands, they built their career off of relatively simple videos with a lower budget, gained a specific type of audience from those videos, then expected that audience to pivot with them when watcher realized they wanted to make a different type of (more expensive, more produced) content.

it can’t work that way. the audience is not acting entitled right now for feeling a shock, bc the audience became loyal to watcher due to a desire for a certain kind of content (specifically the dynamic between shane and ryan).

and if watcher wants to make different content and be paid for it on a more regular basis, that is also okay! but they severely miscalculated their existing audience, and definitely misunderstood how much their current audience wants to watch the style of videos they want to make.

also, imo, ryan and shane have admitted that they dislike the admin side of running a business. i think they truly thrived as regular content creators and not as business managers, and so they struggled to figure out how to run their company and ultimately handed over the reins to steven to wash their hands of it all and go back to making the content they want. and thats also fine, some people are not built for business and work better as individual contributors.

but ryan and shane and steven also seem to have a view that their simple content is almost… beneath them? they talk a lot abt challenging themselves to put out well produced content that their cultivated audience clearly doesn’t really care about. its a mismatch between watcher’s desires for the future and the audience they built in the past that ultimately led to this mess.

they had two options: easier option to make the type of low-budget content their audience has been proven to enjoy, or put in the work to build up an expanded audience so that they could fund the content they wanted to make, put in the work to do a longer, more well thought out transition, put in the work to make connections and figure out how to manage their revenue streams.

and instead they decided to take a shortcut and brute force their existing audience to fund their dreams, and in the process shooting themselves in the foot by alienating their audience. i just can’t comprehend how they reached this conclusion at all.

[doumadono]

A/N: this small thing drew inspiration from a recent conversation I had with my wonderful @indignant-alpaca, delving into the common struggles faced by students across various disciplines. Despite our diverse fields of study, we all encounter similar challenges sooner or later. Drawing from my own experiences, I decided to craft a variation focused on enhancing the learning process, using one of my favorite characters, Bakugo, as a source of inspiration 💣

MY HERO ACADEMIA MASTERLIST

In class

Be actively involved in class discussions and activities. Katsuki would assertively participate, ensuring he grasps concepts firsthand.

Treat each class as a competition to stay engaged. Challenge yourself to excel, just like Bakugo's competitive spirit drives him to be the best hero.

Don't hesitate to ask questions when you're unclear. Katsuki would demand clarity, and you should too! It's a proactive approach to understanding the material.

Observe and analyze the teacher's explanations and demonstrations. Katsuki assesses his opponents' moves; similarly, analyze the "moves" in your lessons for a deeper understanding.

Take dynamic and concise notes. Katsuki strategizes in the heat of battle, and your notes should capture essential information for later review.

Studying

Approach your study sessions with intensity and focus. Katsuki's training is high-intensity, and your studies should match that energy.

Divide your study time into focused blocks for specific subjects. Master each "arc" before moving on to the next, just like Katsuki hones specific skills.

Work on problem-solving exercises regularly. Katsuki tackles various challenges, and you should too. Practical application reinforces theoretical knowledge.

Utilize interactive study methods. Katsuki learns by doing, and hands-on activities or simulations can enhance your understanding of complex topics.

Plan your study sessions strategically, focusing on high-priority subjects during peak concentration times. This approach mirrors Katsuki's tactical approach to hero battles.

Channel your inner hero by immersing yourself completely in the subject matter, just as Katsuki immerses himself in his battles.

Break down complex topics into smaller components for in-depth understanding, similar to how Katsuki analyzes quirks of his opponents to identify their weaknesses.

Learning attitude

Cultivate a hero's mindset. Set ambitious goals and view your studies as a heroic journey toward self-improvement.

Develop resilience in the face of challenges. Katsuki faces setbacks but emerges stronger. Treat academic difficulties as opportunities for growth.

Believe in your capabilities. Katsuki exudes confidence, and a strong belief in your abilities can positively impact your academic performance.

Be flexible in your approach to learning. Katsuki adapts his fighting style, and similarly, adapt your study techniques to different subjects or challenges.

Regularly reflect on your progress. Katsuki analyzes his battles for improvement; evaluate your academic journey to identify areas for growth.

Learning, Bakugo-style, means embracing the fact that doubters will always exist, no matter your achievements. Instead of seeking external validation, channel that energy into mastering your skills and gaining knowledge for your own growth. The focus should be on personal improvement and the satisfaction that comes from overcoming challenges, rather than proving yourself to others.

Periodically review past material to reinforce your knowledge. Katsuki often reflects on his battles to improve his combat strategy. Apply this concept to your studies for a solid foundation.

Test yourself regularly to identify weak points. Katsuki constantly challenges himself in battles to enhance his abilities. Use quizzes to gauge your progress and strengthen areas where you struggle.

Develop mental resilience to overcome setbacks. Katsuki faces defeats but bounces back stronger. Treat failures as stepping stones, learning from them to improve and move forward.

[ineffectualdemon]

I'm still trying to work out the demons cultural violence thing to make it less bad but also keeping it to an extent because the cultural misunderstandings are something I enjoy even if I don't like the implications.

My first thought was, well they are demons they are naturally tougher so they don't know humans are more fragile

And that is still a big problem I realised after

Like yes my thoughts were focusing on that they were demons and comparing them to western demons but that's still doesn't make it better in retrospect and in fact makes it worse

So

I have had a thought

Most of the demons we meet do wrestle and smack each other around and are a little stronger and tougher but!

1. The smacking each other around is in the same way of any group of teenage boys. It's not that they don't feel pain it's that they find that kind of friendly smack and wrestle funny and bonding ← based on the group of tame fucks boys I was friends with in highschool

This is very much the culture especially around teenage and young adult high class demons and Mobei

2. SVSSS demons are made up of many races with different strengths and weaknesses

Like Pokémon!

And in demon culture while you might playfully fight with another demon you do NOT go after their weaknesses. Mobei Jun would not use ice while casually meeting a snake demon and a fire demon wouldn't use their fire on Mobei in a casual friendly greeting. They might smack each other upside the head but no exploiting weaknesses because that could actually hurt someone

3. When I say stronger and tougher I mean like most of the demons we meet specifically who are in peak physical condition. Average demon not much difference from average human. Our very powerful demons like Mobei? Frat boys built like professional wrestlers with demonic cultivation. Stronger then most cultivators but cultivators can get that strong too.

4. Shang Qinghua is actually strong enough to take the hits. He's not getting ribs broken all the time he's getting bruises because he has high physical cultivation and can lift a cart one handed if he really wants to. He just hates it because it's not what he likes

5. The pocket of demon culture we see (High Class Over Powered Gym Brats) is identical to the culture on Bai Zhan peak minus the rules about Pokémon style weaknesses. Like seriously Bai Zhan is exactly the same in "friendly" greetings. Someone on Bai Zhan genuinely thinks beating someone up three times a day (beating them in a spar) is romantic

This still doesn't solve most of the problem but when it you make it

A) not demon culture as a whole just the culture of these particular rich over powered Brats in this particular social circle

B) the power and strength cap of the over power brats is comparable with human power levels

And

C) make Bai Zhan have the same stupid "fighting = flirting" idea

Then it's a bit better I think?

But that means doe Mobei he's doing the done thing in his social circle and also Shang Qinghua isn't saying no and the Bai Zhan brats act the same way so it's fine no? (its embarrassing that it's not)

[0w0tsuki]

It's always telling that the only time when transandro bros even dain to recognize intracommunity transmisogyny, it's only when they're forced to distance themselves from the rampant transmisogynists in their community whose transmisogyny is so cartoonish it becomes undeniable. And it's only to preserve image and position themselves as the non-reactionary alternative.

They did it when one of their own sent out rapey sexual harassment copypasta anons to trans lesbians. They did this when already infamous "transmisogyny group chat"/"The TMRA Radfems warned you about" faggotwithopinions/transmascpeterwenz treated becoming mutuals with the CEO who permabanned a trans woman for no reason and followed her off-site to violate privacy data protections in order to paint her as a sex pest as Huge Get. They did this when TERFs felt comfortable with their communities transmisogyny to openly talk about how they plan to use transandro bros specifically to drive a wedge in the trans community, something trans andro bros accuse transfeminists of all the time.

And when I say it's only in these cases it is ONLY in these wildly cartoonish scenarios. Back when the "transmisogyny group chat" was still fresh news, something that usually happens when a queer transmisogynist shows their full ass happened. A bunch of TERFs who stalk these discourses because they're obsessed with trans women went into his anons to send the most vile hate they could summon while pretending to be trans women so our abusers have something they can point to to play victim. And all the transandro bros took these ANONYMOUS HATE MESSAGES sending gendered slurs/sexual harassment at FACE VALUE when they said they were coming from trans women. It got so bad that prominent transandro bro GenderKoolaid when "dissecting and analyzing" a cropped screenshot of a post by Predstrogen (you know the trans woman who was later outsted by the CEO himself) made some wild speculation about how an offhand comment about "transfems taking the piss" was a direct joke reveling in this harassment.

And there are still plenty of blatant transmisogynists that are propped up as prominent members of the transandro community because they haven't had their own "Me and CarExplosionsHammer Photomatt are besties!" moment. There's the aforementioned GenderKoolaid who routinely engaged with "critiquing" transfeminists posts out of context behind their back and alongside spacelazarwolf has promoted the kiwifarms style blog transandrophobia-archive.

They harbor loads of ex TERFs. ftmtftm who left a 31 paragraph college dissertation with proper citations carefully explaining why I'm either purposely unintellectual or actually stupid and what I was saying was radfeminism aktually when I was looking through his blog before blocking him I saw 1) him lamenting about feeling abandoned by the radfem community he was apparently raised by and 2) him sighing with fucking "transmisoginy group chat" faggotwithopinions of all people about how "these Actual Transmisogynists™ make it so hard for us Actually Nice TMRAs and we need to put an effort to come across as considerate to their experiences with them when we engage with transfems" acting like they they aren't the very problem they are complaining about.

An out Ex-TERF nothorses is responsible for cultivating the current transandro echo chamber tried to use his influence in the community he helped create to try and redefine TERF to try to allow for the label to paradoxically include trans women. After that he wrote an anti-transfeminist manifesto that "defined" Beaddelism and cited open TERF sources. And this manifesto is still constantly linked by transandro bros whenever someone outside the discourse asks what a beaddel is.

The transmisogyny is so bad in their community but simultaneously is explicitly an outlier and not representative of them. Every prominent member is transmisogynists Georg and should not be counted but only when you can prove he is unequivocally, beyond the shadow of a doubt, transmisogynist. Up until then everything he does is fine until it's not.

To transandro bros "transmisogynistic trans men" is this Mystical Other problem that can only be solved with better PR and is completely unaddressable and says nothing about their community at all. Something that they've wholly separated from themselves that's only addressed in the theoretical until they're forced to confront it because they've fostered it so much it's become too big to ignore.

Like if your truly "one of the good ones" whose "only trying to talk about specific issues trans men face" then ask yourself why you've aligned with an ideology founded directly in opposition to transfeminis?. Why do you stand with a community whose mest well regarded members are also some of the most rampant transmisogynists on this site? Why you are constantly having to do PR work to not be instantly regarded as on the transmisogynists that you're community has become known for?Why you refuse to address the transmisogyny problem so much that out and proud TERFs feel comfortable enough to walk right in and start proposing "AMAB supremacy" theory?

Like I've said before. The disgusting actions and behaviors from the community alone are enough to not regard any "theory" they put forth to excuse it.

[whumpbby]

Thinking that because it seems that the Demonic Cultivation was mostly something that Jiang Cheng took care of - either as a way to unload his grief or as taking responsibility of his shixiong's mess - it's possible that the Jiang disciples were the ones that were the best versed in dealing with DC.

Now I am headcanoning that - because JC seems like a man that has shit in hand and runs a tight ship - there's a group within the Yunmeng Jiang trained and experienced specifically to deal with Demonic Cultivation specifically. Like their Spec Ops. They are prepared to come in fast and hot, deal with the issue asap and start the clean-up - armed with talismans made to deflect DC, tame the corpses and help send them on.

So, like, one day WWX hears that there's some Demonic Cultivator causing problems in the area he's hunting with the Lan juniors and goes to deal with it. It still pisses him off that his only lasting legacy is not about his genius or his heroics (or even his good looks), but it's this thing he invented out of horrific desperate need and that's now used to cause chaos and hurt people. So, he feels it's his duty to go there and talk some sense into the person in question.

Except, as soon as he arrives at the scene and ascertains that yeah, the issue is serious and maybe it's better for him to send the disciples back home and call in reinforcements (Lan Zhan), because he can take the DC down, but the clean-up will be immense - when suddenly a group of cultivators land in front of them with a swish of purple robes and gets to work.

The battle is almost sad. In no time at all the fierce corpses are tamed, the cultivator thrown down and bound with talismans, and the cultivators are dispersing across the area to set up burials for the corpses and arrays meant to send the ghosts onwards.

It's all precise and quick, sure steps and short commands. A well-oiled machine with soldier-discipline cleaning the area of resentment. So unlike the usual exuberance and free-style of the Jiang.

Wei Wuxian is kinda stumped. How are these people, and why are they getting in his way? He didn't even manage to get any fun! You, baby Lan disciple, explain!

"They're the Red Brigade", the disciple explains in a hushed voice. "Jiang-zonghzu's personal guard. They hunt Deminic Cultivators."

Red? Ah, their uniforms are adorned with a red ribbon on the shoulder. How sentimental of Jiang Cheng. His shidi really missed him! (or wanted him dead, there's also that option). But no time to contemplate that, because these guys are super efficient and if WWX wants to do any investigation of his own (translate: being his nosy self) he has to haul ass before they clean up everything!

So, he goes to the leader of the pack with an intention of comparing notes! The guy is respectful, but so cold! Eh, is he even a Jiang? So much like A-Cheng! Well, he knows how to deal with people like that - everyone will fold when bothered for long enough!

So, he keeps following the leader and talking bullshit, as his brain takes notes on everything he can see around. The talismans they use, the arrays, the spells - that's all pretty high level and super interesting. Huh, even their clothes are embroidered with talismans (a page out of the Lan book, maybe? Sneaky, Jiang Cheng, sneaky!) and their they use ghost flags...

But something is strange. He can see traces of his own work here and there - and he's used to seeing is tools ironically used across the cultivation world, but these are... kind of not? There are traces of his work, but the sigils are not his, the flags are not his, the talismans are not his. Like someone engineered his work backwards and created something that was similar, but entirely different.

As if someone wanted or needed tools to deal with Wei Wuxian's creations specifically, without the risk of being used against them in the heat of battle. One of the cultivators has a qinqin strapped across her back - the strings are made from metal, so it's not for musical cultivation (huh, so that's how Jiang Cheng came up with the idea of disrupting Su She's music in the Guanyin Temple, it wasn't coincidence.). They came in prepared to counter anything a Demonic Cultivator would throw at them.

Hell, he can admit that going through them on his own wouldn't be easy (because he was always helplessly optimistic about his own skills)...

Oh, Jiang Cheng did his homework.

"Wei-gongzi, can I help you with anything? Shouldn't you be taking the Lan juniors home?"

Uh-oh, he was getting on someone's nerves. Better retreat for now.

But he wasn't about to drop the matter.

The Jiang Sect had a SPECIAL OPS! how was he supposed to leave that be?

He was invested, he wanted to discuss! He needed to compare notes!

[astrangetorpedo]

Julien Baker Track by Track - An Interview with Apple Music

“Everybody is scared of death or ultimate oblivion, whether you want to admit it or not,” Julien Baker tells Apple Music. “That’s motivated by a fear of uncertainty, of what’s beyond our realm of understanding—whatever it feels like to be dead or before we're born, that liminal space. It's the root of so much escapism.”

On her third full-length, Baker embraces fuller arrangements and a full-band approach, without sacrificing any of the intimacy that galvanised her earlier work. The result is at once a cathartic and unabashedly bleak look at how we distract ourselves from the darkness of voids both large and small, universal and personal.

“It was easier to just write for the means of sifting through personal difficulties,” she says. “There were a lot of paradigm shifts in my understanding of the world in 2019 that were really painful. I think one of the easiest ways to overcome your pain is to assign significance to it. But sometimes, things are awful with no explanation, and to intellectualise them kind of invalidates the realness of the suffering. I just let things be sad.”

Here, the Tennessee singer-songwriter walks us through the album track by track.

Hardline

“It’s more of a confession booth song, which a lot of these are. I feel like whenever I imagine myself in a pulpit, I don't have a lot to say that's honest or useful. And when I imagine myself in a position of disclosing, in order to bring me closer to a person, that's when I have a lot to say.”

Heatwave

“I wrote it about being stuck in traffic and having a full-on panic attack. But what was causing the delay was just this car that had a factory defect and bomb-style exploded. I was like, ‘Man, someone got incinerated. A family maybe.’ The song feels like a fall, but it's born from the second verse where I feel like I'm just walking around with my knees in gravel or whatever the verse in Isaiah happens to be: the willing submission to suffering and then looking around at all these people's suffering, thinking that is a huge obstacle to my faith and my understanding, this insanity and unexplainable hurt that we're trying to heal with ideology instead of action.”

Faith Healer

“I have an addictive personality and I understand it's easy for me to be an escapist with substances because I literally missed being high. That was a real feeling that I felt and a feeling that felt taboo to say outside of conversations with other people in recovery. The more that I looked at the space that was left by substance or compulsion that I've then just filled with something else, the more I realised that this is a recurring problem in my personality. And so many of the things that I thought about myself that were noble or ultimately just my pursuit of knowing God and the nature of God—that craving and obsession is trying to assuage the same pain that alcohol or any prescription medication is.”

Relative Fiction

“The identity that I have worked so hard to cultivate as a good person or a kind person is all basically just my own homespun mythology about myself that I'm trying to use to inspire other people to be kinder to each other. Maybe what's true about me is true about other people, but this song specifically is a ruthless evaluation of myself and what I thought made me principled. It's kind of a fool's errand.”

Crying Wolf

“It's documenting what it feels like to be in a cyclical relationship, particularly with substances. There was a time in my life, for almost a whole year, where it felt like that. I think that is a very real place that a lot of people who struggle with substance use find themselves in, where the resolution of every day is the same and you just can’t seem to make it stick.”

Bloodshot

“The very first line of the song is talking about two intoxicated people—myself being one of them—looking at each other and me having this out-of-body experience, knowing that we are both bringing to our perception of the other what we need the other person to be. That's a really lonely and sad place to be in, the realisation that we're each just kind of sculpting our own mythologies about the world, crafting our narratives.”

Ringside

“I have a few tics that manifest themselves with my anxiety and OCD, and for a long time, I would just straight-up punch myself in the head—and I would do it onstage. It's this extension of physicality from something that's fundamentally compulsive that you can't control. I can't stop myself from doing that, and I feel really embarrassed about it. And for some reason I also can't stop myself from doing other kinds of more complicated self-punishment, like getting into co-dependent relationships and treating each one of those like a lottery ticket. Like, 'Maybe this one will work out.'”

Favor

“I have a friend whose parents live in Jackson, where my parents live. They’re one of my closest friends and they were around for the super dark part of 2019. I'll try to talk to the person who I hurt or I'll try to admit the wrongdoing that I've done. I'll feel so much guilt about it that I'll cry. And then I'll hate that I've cried because now it seems manipulative. I'm self-conscious about looking like I hate myself too much for the wrong things I've done because then I kind of steal the person's right to be angry. I don't want to cry my way out of shit.”

Song in E

“I would rather you shout at me like an equal and allow me to inhabit this imagined persona I have where I'm evil. Because then, if I can confirm that you hate me and that I'm evil and I've failed, then I don't any longer have to deal with the responsibility of trying to be good. I don't any longer have to be saddled with accountability for hurting you as a friend. It’s something not balancing in the arithmetic of my brain, for sin and retribution, for crime and punishment. And it indebts you to a person and ties you to them to be forgiven.”

Repeat

“I tried so hard for so long not to write a tour song, because that's an experience that musicians always write about that's kind of inaccessible to people who don't tour. We were in Germany and I was thinking: Why did I choose this? Why did I choose to rehash the most emotionally loaded parts of my life on a stage in front of people? But that's what rumination is. These are the pains I will continue to experience, on some level, because they're familiar.”

Highlight Reel

“I was in the back of a cab in New York City and I started having a panic attack and I had to get out and walk. The highlight reel that I'm talking about is all of my biggest mistakes, and that part—‘when I die, you can tell me how much is a lie’—is when I retrace things that I have screwed up in my life. I can watch it on an endless loop and I can torture myself that way. Or I can try to extract the lessons, however painful, and just assimilate those into my trying to be better. That sounds kind of corny, but it's really just, what other options do you have except to sit there and stare down all your mistakes every night and every day?”

Ziptie

“I was watching people be restrained with zip ties on the news. It's just such a visceral image of violence to see people put restraints on another human being—on a demonstrator, on a person who is mentally ill, on a person who is just minding their own business, on a person who is being racially profiled. I had a dark, funny thought that's like, what if God could go back and be like, ‘Y'all aren't going to listen.’ Jesus sacrificed himself and everybody in the United States seems to take that as a true fact, and then shoot people in cold blood in the street. I was just like, ‘Why?’ When will you call off the quest to change people that are so horrid to each other?”

(x)

[elicathebunny]

The importance of writing for mental health: A GUIDE TO JOURNALING.

What is journaling?

journaling is the practice of regularly writing down thoughts, reflections, experiences, and emotions in a journal or diary. It can take many forms, including free writing, guided prompts, gratitude journaling, or specific types like bullet journaling.

What are the benefits of journaling?

Emotional Expression: Journaling provides a safe space to express and process emotions. Writing about feelings, experiences, and challenges can help individuals acknowledge and make sense of their emotions, leading to increased emotional awareness and regulation.

Stress Reduction: Writing about stressful events or worries can act as a form of stress relief. By putting thoughts onto paper, individuals can release pent-up emotions and gain a sense of control over their circumstances, thereby reducing stress levels.

Problem Solving: Journaling encourages reflection and introspection, allowing individuals to gain insights into their thoughts and behaviors. This process can help identify patterns, triggers, and potential solutions to problems, fostering personal growth and resilience.

Self-Discovery: Regular journaling promotes self-discovery and self-awareness. Through writing, individuals can explore their values, beliefs, strengths, and weaknesses, leading to a deeper understanding of themselves and their identity.

Gratitude and Positive Thinking: Incorporating gratitude journaling can cultivate a positive mindset and improve overall well-being. By focusing on the things they are grateful for, individuals can shift their perspective from negativity to positivity, fostering a sense of happiness and contentment.

Tracking Progress: Journaling allows individuals to track their progress towards personal goals, whether they're related to mental health, personal development, or behaviour change. By documenting successes, setbacks, and lessons learned, individuals can stay motivated and accountable on their journey towards self-improvement.

Mindfulness and Relaxation: Engaging in mindful journaling practices, such as free writing or guided prompts, can promote relaxation and mindfulness. By immersing themselves in the present moment and the act of writing, individuals can experience a sense of calm and clarity.

How to start journaling:

Choose Your Journal: Select a journal or notebook that appeals to you. It could be a traditional paper journal, a digital journaling app, or even a dedicated section in your planner.

Set Aside Time: Schedule regular time for journaling in your day. It could be in the morning to reflect on the day ahead, in the evening to unwind and process your day, or any other time that works best for you.

Decide on a Format: Determine the type of journaling you want to do. You might opt for free writing, where you simply write whatever comes to mind, or you could use guided prompts to focus your thoughts on specific topics or themes.

Start Writing: Begin by putting pen to paper or fingers to keyboard. Don't worry about grammar or spelling; the goal is to let your thoughts flow freely. Write about your feelings, experiences, goals, challenges, or anything else on your mind.

Experiment: Don't be afraid to experiment with different journaling styles and techniques to find what resonates with you. You might try gratitude journaling, where you write down things you're thankful for each day, or bullet journaling, which combines writing with organising and planning.

Be Consistent: Make an effort to journal regularly, even if it's just for a few minutes each day. Consistency is key to building a habit and reaping the benefits of journaling over time.

Reflect and Review: Periodically review your journal entries to reflect on your thoughts, emotions, and experiences. This can help you gain insights into patterns, identify areas for growth, and track your progress over time.

Adjust as Needed: Be flexible and open to adjusting your journaling practice as needed. If a particular approach isn't working for you, don't hesitate to try something different until you find what feels right.

How to use journal prompts:

Choose Relevant Prompts: Select prompts that resonate with you and align with your current goals, interests, or areas you want to explore. You can find prompts online, in books, or create your own based on what you want to focus on.

Engage: Schedule dedicated time for journaling with prompts. Preferably a time and place where you can really engage with what you are writing down, after all, there is no point in aimlessly writing and answering questions if they don't serve a purpose to you.

Read and Reflect: Take a moment to read the prompt carefully and let it sink in. Consider how it relates to your life, experiences, thoughts, and emotions.

Write Freely: Start writing without overthinking or censoring yourself. Let your thoughts flow naturally and explore the prompt in depth. Write as much or as little as you feel compelled to.

Be Honest and Authentic: Don't hold back. Be honest with yourself and write from the heart. Your journal is a safe space for self-expression, so feel free to explore your true feelings and experiences.

Stay Open-Minded: Allow yourself to explore different perspectives and ideas prompted by the writing exercise. Embrace ambiguity and uncertainty, as they can lead to new insights and understanding.

Reflect on Your Responses: After writing, take some time to reflect on what you've written. Consider what you've learned about yourself, any patterns or themes that emerge, and how you can apply these insights to your life.

Repeat and Explore: Continue using journal prompts regularly to deepen your self-awareness and personal growth. Experiment with different types of prompts and approaches to keep your journaling practice fresh and engaging.

550+ Journal Prompts: The ultimate list.

Writing a gratitude journal.

Schedule: Writing first thing in the morning or night is the best time to give gratitude, this could be in general or it could be aimed towards God or whatever you believe in.

Reflect on Your Day: Take a moment to reflect on your day and identify things you're grateful for. These could be big or small, from significant achievements to simple pleasures. Reflect on the day before if you are writing in the morning.

Write from the Heart: Write down three to five things you're grateful for each day. Be specific and descriptive, and focus on why you're grateful for each item. For example, instead of just saying "I'm grateful for my family," you could write, "I'm grateful for the laughter and love shared during dinner with my family."

Express Genuine Appreciation: Cultivate a genuine sense of appreciation for the things you're grateful for. Reflect on the positive impact they have on your life and how they make you feel.

Be Consistent: Make gratitude journaling a daily habit. Consistency is key to reaping the benefits of gratitude over time.

Do things differently: Keep your gratitude journal fresh and interesting by varying your entries. You can express gratitude for different aspects of your life, such as relationships, health, work, nature, or personal accomplishments.

Review Your Entries: Periodically review your gratitude journal entries to reflect on the positive moments and blessings in your life. This can reinforce feelings of gratitude and serve as a reminder of all the good things you have to be thankful for.

Stay Open-Minded: Be open to finding gratitude in unexpected places or during challenging times. Even in difficult situations, there's often something to be grateful for, whether it's a lesson learned, a silver lining, or the support of others.

101 Gratitude prompts.

Bullet journalling.

Bullet journaling is a customizable organizational system that combines elements of a planner, diary, to-do list, and journal. It was developed by Ryder Carroll and has gained popularity for its flexibility and adaptability to individual needs. In a bullet journal, you use a series of symbols, such as dots for tasks, circles for events, and dashes for notes, to organize your entries. It allows you to track habits, set goals, jot down ideas, and plan your day in a way that suits your lifestyle. Many people find it helpful for increasing productivity, staying organized, and promoting mindfulness.

How to bullet journal:

Set Up Your Notebook: Begin by numbering the pages of your notebook. Typically, the first few pages are reserved for an index or table of contents where you can log the contents of your journal for easy reference.

Create Key Symbols: Decide on a set of symbols to represent different types of entries. For example, use a dot for tasks, a circle for events, a dash for notes, and so on. Customize these symbols to fit your needs.

Set Up Monthly Logs: Dedicate a spread (two facing pages) for each month. Write the name of the month at the top of the page and list the dates vertically down the side. Use this space to jot down important events, deadlines, and tasks for the month.

Set Up Daily Logs: Each day, create a new entry where you list the date and any tasks, events, or notes for that day. Use your key symbols to categorize your entries.

Migration: At the end of each month, review your entries and migrate any unfinished tasks to the next month's log. You can also reflect on what worked well and what didn't, and make adjustments as needed.

Collections: In addition to your monthly and daily logs, you can create collections for specific topics or projects. These can include things like habit trackers, goal-setting pages, brainstorming sessions, or anything else you want to keep track of.

Get Creative: Don't be afraid to add doodles, colours, or decorations to personalise your journal and make it enjoyable to use. Search online for inspiration

[phoenixcatch7]

Thinking about a 'sqq transmigrates (reincarnates) into dc' (specifically the jl because I don't know much about the rest), and who do you think would be funniest? I have narrowed it down to One but if anyone has anything better I'd love to hear it - Constantine, cap marvel and Manhunter were my top choices until:

Batman. Of course. Mainly because of the adoption problem and dozen kids with attachment issues, but also sqq spending his entire time internally shrieking I AM NOT CUT OUT FOR THIS I AM NOT PREPARED SYSTEM WHY DID YOU CHOOSE BATMAN. Trying so hard to fit the theme. Over preparing and stressing over every detail. A bit autism coded. 'I don't fall in love with anyone unless I choose to' wrong. 'You want me??? To?? Share my emotions?? My troubles??? I want to be a good parental figure but I would RATHER DIE'.

*internal sarcasm at local iq* *encyclopedic knowledge* *forgets he's not supposed to know everyone's identity*. "HOW DID YOH EVEN KNOW THAT??!!" 'oh I uh figured it out lol *bluffs sherlock style deduction*'. *repressed* 'Trauma? What trauma? I'm doing Great.'

Alfred is best man but sqq has been fundamentally a rich kid for THREE lifetimes now. He is unsavagable. Acts all high and mighty for the show but self esteem is garbage. UTTER COMMITMENT TO THE BIT at this point (way post svsss canon) I think sqq would genuinely implode if he didn't have a mask to show the public.

System has followed him of course and has him by the scruff of his neck every time he thinks about a more peaceful life. It has very high ooc standards as always until he first puts on the mask.

I can see superman taking over lqgs role a little. Casual friend and bestie. Always ready to help (and occasionally sky uber). Brawn to his brain but smarter than people give him credit for. Ultimate power team. Romantic tension through the roof but never wants anything more (and Bruce is completely oblivious anyway). Everyone sees it though.

Everyone assuming Bruce spent a huge amount of time training in some ultra secret Chinese mountain range (technically they're not wrong!) but no system sent him to the league of assassins he's just using the excuse to work on his cultivation. (talia tried SO HARD to seduce him but it failed utterly so she gave up and stole his dna while he was asleep (he woke up the next morning to a mission success notification and freaked)).

Unlike what his kids except, is fully caught up with memes. They hate it but that just makes him use them more. On the plus side he is susceptible to rickroll. Peak 'my darling child would NEVER how dare' at events. The only ones who know he had (has???) a husband pre reveal.

He teaches them all cultivation like a little qj peak but without the proper environment, which doesn't exist here, they're never going to reach immortality like him. He's fine about that, really :). He's accepted it. Either way that means pit influence doesn't stick, whoo!

Would like nothing more than to kill the joker :). System won't let him. He can't explain that to anyone :).

Meanwhile an lbh centuries old is Missing His Husband and Its Been MONTHS Where are his kisses from shizun??? But seriously WHERE IS HIS HUSBAND BLOOD WILL BE SPILT THE ONE WHO TOOK HIM WILL BE WIPED FROM THE FACE OF THE REALMS THEIR LIGAMENTS STREWN ACROSS THE NORTHERN DESERT AND THEIR ENTRAILS FED TO HYDRA VULTURES WHERE IS HE

Cue an enraged ancient demon emperor breaking through the walls of reality on a universe shattering rampage only for him to be batmans husband :). Who wants kisses.

[rachthepoet]

Matilda Analysis

A poignant narrative delving into themes of self-liberation, healing from past traumas, and a journey toward healthy love for the sake of oneself and nobody else. It's a testament to the resilience of the human spirit, delivered in an intimate and comforting atmosphere soundtracked by gentle instrumentation. This eloquent reminder to whoever needs to hear that it's never too late to seek the love you deserve and cultivate a life filled with joy and acceptance. Even if one must do so independently and abundantly.

The listener may not know the character of Matilda personally, but they know of her intuitively, anybody who can spare a few minutes to listen is invited in miraculously, as the song's configuration allows. And, what waits inside for those who venture? Harry sitting with his guitar, a concerned friend right as you need someone to be.

Here's a deep dive into Harry Styles' Matilda, from a poet.

Roald Dahl's 'Matilda' + Harry's Take

Roald Dahl (1916-1990) was a British novelist, short-story writer, poet, and screenwriter. He has composed many children's books, and has been bestowed the title of "one of the greatest storytellers for children of the 20th century". His knack was for writing children's books interlaced with rather dark, adult themes — like 'Matilda'.

If you didn't grow up with the book and/or haven't had the chance to read it, here is a summary for a bit more familiarity, which will lead to a more engaged discussion here! But, also, if you're familiar with the 1996 film, as many are, you should be just fine! As mentioned before, much of Dahl's works covered much darker themes. The children's book 'Matilda' speaks clearly of the following: emotional and physical abuse, tyranny, misogyny, scamming, attachment theory, and, the most obvious, child abuse and neglect.

In short, attachment theory believes that every child needs to form a relationship with at least one primary caregiver to develop, healthily, emotionally and socially. In 'Matilda', our main character lacks that primary caregiver until she meets Miss Honey. The impact of Miss Honey's warmth, care, and understanding on Matilda is so grand that trust is built (she reveals her telekinesis power to Miss Honey) and leads to a happy ending, as Matilda's attachment to Miss Honey wins over the weaker attachment of her parents — and Matilda moves in with Miss Honey, finding a loving and caring home/family at last.

Now it's time to circle it back to Harry's Matilda. I believe that Harry has taken on the role of Miss Honey as a complementary to the subject to whom he's disguised as quote-en-quote "Matilda" — a stylistic choice I have no doubt was heavily influenced by Dahl's tale. Not only is Harry a friend giving advice and refuge, but also a welcoming sense of care and a second home, which further ties into the third album's theme as a whole — debates of a house versus a home, and what home means to a person.

In the song Matilda, Harry alludes to similar situations, with direct connections to attachment theory and child abuse/neglect. As the audience solely, we don't know the specifics of the problem, but these are the main issues I grasp from the lyrics alone. Roald Dahl's Matilda, as told in the book, has much intellectual prowess — she's too smart, almost an adult in a child's body, most likely an effect of her circumstances' cause. Yet, set aside the knowledge of her adventurous nature and wits, there's no clear yes or no to answer if Matilda needs comfort. For she never cries, adamantly refusing to do so, and never seems to show weakness. She's too smart for that, after all. The single time she outright exhibits sadness about not feeling the love from her parents is when she's four and confiding in the librarian. I'm going somewhere, by the way, I promise you.

With Harry's Matilda in Matilda, lots of the same traits resurface. An adventurous spirit and a bright mind, but also the tendency to keep sucking it up and not letting one fall to tenderness, because it's been perceived in the brain as a weakness. None of what happened seemed wrong to her until a certain point. This is, apparently, no big deal, or so she says. Harry's Matilda speaks of her experiences like it's nothing at all, but it's everything. She's mighty like her fictional character namesake, so bright and lively that she can light up even the darkest days.

Upon a delicate, sadly playful melody of strings, Harry takes on the role of a friend but also a caregiver to show love to his character of Matilda. The Miss Honey, as alluded to before. In Matilda, Harry makes it a point to show Matilda the love she never received from those who should've given it freely. He expresses that, while none of this is his business, he's been thinking about it in concern. He tells her that she can start a family that will love her, will care for her, and there's nothing to be sorry for. With a wide, bright smile and a sharp mind, Matilda, you can let it go, and you don't have to be sorry for doing so. Let us show you what healthy love feels like.

Lyric Pull Apart

[VERSE 1] You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal" And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels Nothing 'bout the way you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal

You were riding your bike to the sound of "It's No Big Deal" / And you're trying to lift off the ground on those old two wheels: Here a little scene is set, and provides the listener with so much context and information. It's an idyllic childhood moment to picture, riding a bike, but there are cracks already. Cracks in a carefree childhood, cracks in what should've been. The line to the sound of "It's No Big Deal" had people frantically searching for a song to connect, but, from the language used, I never thought of it that way. Rather, it's the soundtrack of dismissiveness, instigated by those Matilda is surrounded with. There isn't a soundtrack of laughter or encouragement, but rather a shrug. It's in the frame of something heard, not something spoken, or, extending, something felt. To the details, the image of the bike is given as those old two wheels — tired, worn, maybe even inadequate. Strong symbolism there.

Then, trying to lift off the ground gives many implications and layered feelings. There's the literal, with a kid trying to play about and do cool tricks, alone on their old bike, maybe dangerous tricks, leaning into the absent parental presence, and maybe seeking attention. There's the symbolic, the imaginative, the evoking of childhood nostalgia and yearning. There's the metaphorical, to fly, rising above where they are stuck, an ache to escape.

Nothing 'bout the way you were treated ever seemed especially alarming till now / So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal: Those who've experienced trauma may feel or are told that their mistreatment is normal, and/or they shouldn't be the ones to complain because others have it worse. Therefore, they won't speak out because their minds have been conditioned that their issues are nothing to speak of. An internalization. But, as distance and time are gained away from the situation, realization becomes stronger than internalization.

Then, So you tie up your hair and you smile like it's no big deal curates a heartbreaking image of Matilda, self-sufficient and positive because she had to be, tying up her hair with a smile because she never saw the way she was treated as anything but status quo. It's a tragic echoing of the first line of the verse and also parallels Dahl's Matilda with the ribbon in her hair. It relates to the idea of putting on a mask, covering something up by pretending like everything is fine. Matilda, maybe, doesn't want to burden him with her problems and repeats rehearsed mantras in place of it. But, he sees straight through this, and the speaker assures Matilda that she doesn't have to hide, for he's there to listen and care.

And then we get another heartbreaking image, of Matilda as self-sufficient and positive, tying up her hair with a smile because she never saw the way she was treated as anything but normal, and a tragic echo of the first line, where she smiles “like it’s no big deal” - because it’s all she’s heard, the sound of her parents saying it’s no big deal, and she believes them.

[CHORUS] You can let it go You can throw a party full of everyone you know And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up, mmm

But the chorus is telling Matilda directly: you can let it go. It's so comforting and beautiful. He is reassuring the character of Matilda that she can drop the smile and acknowledge the inevitable pain caused (see verse 2), and then let it go and let herself grow. It's a gentle, validating way of saying that she didn't deserve the pain back then and doesn't deserve to hold onto it now. The speaker suggests that Matilda, and by extension the listener, has the power to create a new life for herself — one filled with people who have genuine care for her and those who provide the love that has been missing. Attachment theory.

You can throw a party full of everyone you know and not invite your family 'cause they never showed you symbolizes a break from the past and the forging of a new path defined by one's autonomy. Her family, the site of all of this complication and guilt and hurt, whom she now acknowledges caused her pain and never showed her the love she deserved. But now she can go out and seek that love. A reminder to Matilda that she can seek happiness elsewhere and build a chosen family based on love and respect.

Then, the ending line, You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up, is so important. When trying to extract oneself from an abusive environment, the blame will be twisted and put on the victim. They might try and make Matilda a stranger as a repercussion for her spreading her wings and thriving in the absence of their negative influence. And, here, the speaker is reassuring Matilda that you don't have to feel sorry for leaving and growing up. And, the language choice is interesting, for saying growing up akins it automatically to something natural, something that's bound to happen. Something you shouldn't feel guilty over. He says to Matilda that she should never feel apologetic for her growth.

[VERSE 2] Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright But I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind

Matilda, you talk of the pain like it's all alright / But I know you feel like a piece of you's dead inside: This is the only time within the song that there's a direct address to Matilda, although there's an underlying assumption that the song is being spoken to her throughout. This direct address serves a purpose though, as I believe it amplifies the words that follow it, you talk of the pain like it's all alright. While verse 1 framed Matilda as a child, this verse (verse 2) frames Matilda as an adult. She is doing the same thing, the same coping mechanisms, that were instilled in her when she was a child — "it's no big deal" and "it's all alright".

Closely followed by but I know that you feel like a piece of you's dead inside is where the speaker, in one of the few lines in the song to reference an "I", acknowledges Matilda's pain for her. He makes it known that he can see the pain that she's in, even as she tries to dismiss it. It also acknowledges a major recognition of the loss of self due to this past trauma and pain.

You showed me a power that is strong enough to bring sun to the darkest days: This line is just so gorgeous. I have such love in my heart for it. And I feel like many overlook the intention with the word choice, which lends to its touching nature. Choosing the words you showed me a power versus you are the sunshine in the darkest days (or something along those lines) changes the meaning, and makes more of a splash. The meaning shifts from you are sunshine, you are goodness, you deserve to be loved — which is not without its own lovely connotation, of course — to being around you, you radiate this energy and you can teach other people how to love.

In companionship to what's been told about Matilda, to imply that she has this power to bring the sun to the darkest days, to teach someone how to find the sun in their darkest days when she has experienced dark days... it's beautiful. And it's so important to notice that detailed difference and reiterates the notion that as sad of a song as Matilda is, it's also incredibly empowering.

It's none of my business, but it's just been on my mind: And then, the speaker takes a step back. It's not about his experience, and he acknowledges that separation, but does not withdraw his care or concern. It's none of my business is a delicate way to respect Matilda's boundaries regarding her past and the choice of what her relationships look like. He doesn't want to tell Matilda what to do and deny her agency, for then he would become just another one of the people who mistreat her. But it's just been on my mind illustrates the care of the speaker once more, a complement to what precedes it and to the song entirely.

"It's a weird one, because with something like this, it's like, 'I want to give you something, I want to support you in some way, but it's not necessarily my place to make it about me because it's not my experience.' Sometimes it's just about listening. I hope that's what I did here. If nothing else, it just says, 'I was listening to you'." — Harry Styles

[CHORUS ADD ON VARIATION 1] You can let it go You can throw a party full of everyone you know And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love You don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up You can see the world, following the seasons Anywhere you go, you don't need a reason 'Cause they never showed you love You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own

This is the first variation on and second iteration of the chorus, and it hits on the same themes as the first iteration. The first new line is You can see the world, following the seasons. Matilda can leave, not just her family but where she's from, and she still doesn't owe her family justification or reasons. The latter comes from the following anywhere you go, you don't need a reason. The sentiment is continued by the line you don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own which is the repeated parallel to the previous you don't have to be sorry for leavin' and growin' up. It's so good. In one sense, it applies to the lines immediately preceding it — you don't have to be sorry for traveling and seeing the world on your own. Yet, because of the repetition, there's this parallel created that also refers to growing up. Matilda doesn't have to be sorry for growing up on her own. A grand acknowledgment that Matilda raised herself, and that comes with both sorrow and pride. The sorrow that she had to raise herself alone, but the pride that she is who she is as an adult because of herself.

[BRIDGE] You're just in time, make your tea and your toast You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes, ooh You don't have to go You don't have to go home Oh, there's a long way to go I don't believe time will change your mind In other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore As long as you can let them go

This whole ballad is truly a tour de force, but the bridge is the one to knock me off my feet every time. Much like Harry has done for the listeners with 'Harry's House', the speaker invites Matilda into his home. In the song's case, both literally and metaphorically.

You're just in time, make your tea and your toast: Tea and toast is such a cozy and homey image, and indicates this welcoming, specificity in welcoming into routines, like a fresh pot of tea and a nice piece of toast in the middle of the afternoon. There's no push or rush, as indicated with the you're just in time, as it was and will always be based upon Matilda's timeline. It's a sense of found family and a safe place to land after she's previously seen the world, followed the seasons, and all that. Welcome home, welcome to the party, welcome to the place where you can be you without begging for the allowance to do so.

You framed all your posters and dyed your clothes: I think this is a beautiful way to signify that somebody grew, focusing on the smaller details. But, additionally, there's a full circle moment, calling back to childhood — experiencing the small joys she never had the chance to, as her childhood was spent in a survival state. You framed all your posters and made this new house a home with favorite things from your childhood, now with an added sense of sophistication that was missing previously. You dyed your clothes, changing them to better fit a new stage of life. Parts of Matilda's childhood can be brought into adulthood with her, and reinvented to be rid of the negative connotations that may still be attached. You can let it go.

You don't have to go / You don't have to go home: The speaker reintroduces himself in the song to speak and bring more reassurance to Matilda, with nurturing and welcoming at the forefront. You don't have to go away from where we've invited you, Matilda, with your favorite teas and the way you like your toast, you don't have to go away from this place of people who love you for you. You don't have to go home reminds Matilda that she doesn't have to go back to the people and place she cut ties with, and that's okay. the use of the word home has intrigued me for quite a while, but I think it indicates that Matilda is still presently on the journey to let go of her past.

Oh, there's a long way to go / I don't believe time will change your mind / In other words, I know they won't hurt you anymore / As long as you can let them go: These last lines of the bridge importantly acknowledge the journey — not just of life, and not just the growing up and traveling and exploring — of healing. It's a bittersweet moment here, gently saying there's a long way to go. It isn't solved, it isn't over — for nothing ever is packaged up that neatly in reality. I don't believe time will change your mind, to me, is him saying that it won't be as simple as letting time fall between her and what happened. A lot of blood and tears is going to have to be shed to truly get to the point where it's not a constant background ache. Leading into, I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go. Matilda, you need to give yourself permission to let this all go, both the situation and the facade you've been putting on. Let yourself feel, then let it go.

[CHORUS ADD ON VARIATION 2] You can let it go You can throw a party full of everyone you know You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doin' it on your own You can let it go You can throw a party full of everyone you know You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry, no

The shift in the final chorus can be undetectable if the listener isn't paying attention. But, once it's caught, it's impossible to miss again. This is a second variation of the chorus, on its third iteration. In the earlier verse of the chorus, the third line was And not invite your family 'cause they never showed you love. But, after Matilda has worked to let them go, it evolves to You can start a family who will always show you love — highlighting the beauty of found family, a family of choice. And with this evolution in the chorus, the meaning of doin' it on your own has changed, because rather than a reference to growing up or leaving and traveling, but starting a family, one who will love you, and Matilda has done it with her own autonomy. It's the next step on the road to healing, and there's always this reassurance that Matilda can do this on her own. He gives the power back to her and puts it in her palms, for she is strong and she is resilient.

Therefore, the whole message, the thesis statement of the song, lies in the final line: you don't have to be sorry. The song of Matilda is a conversation between her and the speaker, and in response to her unspoken guilt. In the various forms and layers, the repeated lyrics and parallels, context stacked on context, the listener — us, the spectators — is enveloped in the depth of Matilda and her journey. But, in that final line, all specificities and complexities are stripped, to simply conclude it all: you don't have to be sorry, let go of the guilt, and you can be happy.

Matilda left me reeling in a puddle of tears on the first listen, and my emotions are instigated with each listen after. Pieces that send me into a wave of emotions set off a green light, they'll always be my favorite. In a way, Harry has become our Ms. Honey in times we've felt like Matilda, gifted us a chosen family with those who bond over his music. Much like this song, beautiful and evocative it is.

A grand indicator of a great writer is the ability to write so deeply about experiences not necessarily connected to them and their own experience. The times where Harry is the 'outside looking in, narrator of other people's experiences' songwriter has always been something I admire, and the songs I find the most intriguing to study. There's a full narrative, and we are brought into the same emotions Matilda was experiencing at the moment, therefore fully enveloping us in the story. I don't know, you just feel it. And I love that you just feel it.

And he takes such care and consideration with this delicate story. He doesn't have to name them specifically or be overbearing with identifying details, but cleverly uses well-known themes of the Dahl children's book to explore feelings and show understanding. It's a warm song full of strength and bursting with love. A seldom promise to always be there and understanding to a friend who's felt alone and misunderstood in a time when they should've been heard. Making sure they know their power and the power of care and nurturing. And Harry, in Harry's House, will always show you love.

dedicated to this anon <3

Thank you for reading, you’re absolutely incredible! If there are any songs you’d like me to make an analysis of, please send your request to my inbox! along with any questions or insights you might have yourself!

[omi-papus]

Light The Lamp

Part: 1

Fandom: Subnautica

Pairing: Robin x Al-An

Ao3 link

Content: Age difference, ADHD x Autism, Ableist slur, Ice Hockey AU, Modern era AU, Human Al-An AU, Drug use, Eventual smut

Summary: Rookie ice hockey player Robin Ayou stuns the league with a controversial but impressive debut, catching the eye of popular YouTuber Alan Silvester. Known for his hockey insights. After an awkward first encounter, he begs her to feature in one of his videos. And she after thinking shes found her new babygirl cant help but agree.

Word count: 12.5k

A/N: Hey guys. This is going to be very diferent from my usual writing style. Ive decided to drastically improve my formatting and actually got a beta reader if you can belive it. Hopefully this will be a step in the right direction for me. Enjoy!

This was going to drive him up a wall. His assistant had to be testing him because there was no other explanation as to why he would fail so spectacularly. He weighed the pen deliberately between his fingers, awful. A mere ballpoint pen, with weak half-carbon ink that could not write worth a damn under pressure, Robinson had brought it to him and had left far too quickly to be questioned as to why he brought him this garbage and where his Uni-ball Jetstream RT pen was. He had a box specifically for them, if the last one he was using had been damaged, and the refills were in a color-indicated container so that running out of the non smudging, waterproof oil based ink was never a problem. He vehemently refused to waste the precious paper of his Moleskine Pro notebook on this abomination and was forced to scramble around to find a stack of printer paper. The mere horror of having to write his notes on such a thing took up a whole two minutes, and his process of stapling enough pages together took him a whole other three, so his attention was only halfway with the commentators as they discussed the preamble for the game. He knew all of it anyway, but he would have much rather been properly focused on the TV standing tall in front of the desk he had set up.

Even when he had finally settled down, he was still irked senselessly by the memories that flooded his mind of his assistant telling him to take it easy on this game. That it wasn't a big deal, as the novelty of the Alterra Giants forming a twin female team had worn off. To be fair, it was Alan's first dive into the female hockey division. And the response from his audience to him covering women's hockey hadn't exactly been a fantastic incentive to continue. From a purely financial perspective, a stack of stapled paper and a barely functional pen would be what this game deserved. He would be better off getting his notes for his final coverage of the female division of the Alterra giants done quickly, making it a short section on the video, and preparing to talk about the Reapers’s new coach. Unfortunately for him, there was a problem. A big gaping hole in that sound line of logic.

The women's division of the Alterra Giants was one of the best teams he had ever seen.

Ryley suggested that it might simply be lackluster competition and the significantly higher funding that came with being associated with a famous male team, but Alan knew better. The way they played was impeccable. They were simultaneously ruthless and extremely synergized as a team. The team members' individual stats rivaled most men on the rink, and those team members were all from highly successful teams beforehand. By all means, the Alterra Giants were a phenomenon to keep track of. Alan easily found himself frustrated by the reaction on social media to his coverage of them. He had believed that he would have cultivated an audience that cared enough about the sport itself and how it was played, as opposed to a bunch of nitwits that used his channel as a vehicle to engage in endless drivel about the same seven teams and would throw a tantrum when he dared to look away. He had given up on discussing historical games because of the low engagement, and he did not want to give up on something he cared about again. He had quit his job as an official commentator to pursue this path with his own Youtube channel, to have the freedom to discuss what he wanted however he wanted. So he would stick to his choice of subject matter as stubbornly as he stuck to his choice of pen.

There were some other particular points of interest in this game. They were playing against the Trivalves, a much older team but one with very little fanfare. Mediocre win streak and only one title to their name in two thousand and ten. What was somewhat intriguing was that this would be the debut of three new players on the team. Olivia Lopez, Sarah Church, and Robin Ayou.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She had broken a tooth. It was nipping the side of her cheek in a way she was sure would leave a mark, but she had yet to taste blood. She had tuned out most of coach Maidas speech, she was sure she would get scolded for it. She kept quiet mostly, only offering vague vocalizations of acknowledgement to test out her ability to speak. It didn't hurt horribly. She ran her tongue over it carefully, confirming it was one of the left teeth on the side, hopefully not immediately obvious if she kept a low profile.

It had been a goal. That's all that mattered. She had humiliatingly fallen to the cold ice floor when she hit the puck from halfway across the rink and managed to score. She was sure as hell not going to get kicked out of the match now, three minutes into the game. The injury could be dealt with later; no one had to know about it. Her mouth guard still fit just fine and actually dulled the pain. She adjusted her helmet and gripped her stick tighter. Stepping out onto the rink, she could only wish she had done her hair a little tighter.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You are one hell of a stupid kid, ain't ya girl?” coach Marguerite Maida let out while pinching her nose bridge standing opposite to the young woman that sat on the locker room bench pressing an ice pack to the side of her face, the taste of blood finally making its appearance.

“I got us three goals. I won! Shouldn't we be celebrating right now? Ow! Ooooohhh…” Robin failed to protest. The coach ran her palm across her face before gesturing wildly, slouching her posture and bending her knees almost as if to get down to her level.

“That is the BARE minimum you can do! And the next time you won't have beginner's luck riding on your dick.”

“It was against the Alterra Giants! That can't be luck, I destroyed them!”

“And destroyed your goddamn mouth to boot!”

“Listen- ow ow ow ow… You told me to never be a pussy and get back up no matter what. And trust me coach, if I can get over you fucking my sister, I can move past anything.”

She expected a scowl but received a smirk, almost as if the coach suddenly got some malevolent idea.

“Oh yeaaaaah, what will Samantha think of you galavanting around, breaking teeth like they're candy?”

Robin's smile dropped. Her brows furrowing and her shoulders tensing up, she lowered the ice pack and glared at the woman in front of her.

“You wouldn't dare…”

"Oh, I would sweet cheeks. And I'll do it right now.”

She pulled out her phone, and Robin was ready to jump her and get it out of her hands if her life depended on it, but at that precise moment, the rest of the team burst into the locker room, cheering and chanting in celebration. Robin was quickly picked up by a larger teammate and paraded around like a trophy. She got too caught up being red in the face to realize the coach leaving the room.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"Woman, you are in your twenties, she's not gonna hit you with a belt.”

Calvin looked over at his friend, who was fretting over her phone right next to him on the couch. They were supposed to be celebrating, beer and pizza abundant across the table, the TV gleaming in the mostly dark living room. He was shocked that she was glued to her phone even as the documentary narrator started talking about Ventgarden leviathans, her favorite leviathan that just yesterday she had yapped his ear off about a new documentary that had come out where they actually got footage inside it, and now that they were watching it, all she could do was wait for a scolding like she was a little kid.

“What would you fucking do if your mom called wanting you dead?!” she yelled hysterically, gripping her phone so hard she might break it.

"Robin, you have a mom, you don't have to be more afraid of your sister than you are of her.”

She pouted at him and proceeded to aggressively finish another slice of pizza. It was her cheat day after all. If Maida knew about this, she would surely finally just up and kill her.

"Well, you should be asking Sam why she's dating a woman old enough to be her mom.”

“Weren't you thirsting about that old guy in the commercial last week? I'd say it runs in the family.”

“He was hot! Shut up! And also even then she didn't have to date my fucking coach.”

“I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.”

“I win three to two against the Alterra giants, and this is how all of you thank me?!” She crossed her arms and sank further into the couch.

She had every intention to stay like that the rest of the night, but her eyes focused on the TV. She leaned forward with her elbows on her knees. The diver was at the bottom of a heat vent overlooking an adult Ventgarden, its maw beneath the tentacles fluttered open and the diver with the camera strapped got closer. Robin held her breath as she watched it, expecting a cut, but she couldn't help but have her eyes wide open and her mouth agape as they moved inside when its mouth opened. The diver spun around, showing a full three sixty view of the mesmerizing inside of the creature; large tree-like protrusions decorate the inside, alive with a multitude of plants and minerals. The large cone shaped structure at the top of its translucent bell shone like a divine chandelier. It took her a couple of seconds to remember to inhale.

“You know they base a type of underwater greenhouse on this leviathan?”

“Yes Robin, you've told me this six times.”

"Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”

They sat in silence, finally enjoying the documentary. Mostly Robin did, Cal opted to fiddle with his phone and briefly chuckled at a text he received.

“Yo, actually. Turns out Ryley works for a guy that has a hockey channel on youtube.”

Robin looked over at him, unimpressed and mostly annoyed that she had to divert her attention from the documentary to respond.

“You waited until now to find out what your new boyfriend does for a living?”

Cal turned slightly red at the accusation, scratching the back of his neck.

“Shut up you nearly got engaged to a girl you knew for a week.”

“THAT WAS A JOKE!”

“Sure, anyway, Ryley's boss is apparently insane and he's telling me he just went ballistic on him for bringing him the wrong pen.”

“Well what the hell do you expect from a man with a youtube channel.”

“True, but check it, it's Alan Silvester.”

Her expression barely changed.

“Don't play the name game with me.” she deadpanned.

“The commentator??!” Whether he sounded incredulous or offended, she couldn't tell.

“NHL?”

“Yeah!”

“Haven't kept up with it, sorry.”

“You are the only person who doesn't watch the NHL.”

“I do! Ive just been busy, you know, playing my own fucking league!”

“He was a commentator four years ago!”

Robin returned to looking at the screen, they were now talking about Snow stalkers, which was much more interesting to her.

“Who cares? He sounds like an asshole.”

"Yeah, you'd know.”

“Piss off.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

He stayed late. It nearly felt like it was going to boil him alive but his routine took a back seat today. He needed to do this now. He stayed late in his office, the game long over, and the arena now silent. The harsh glow of his computer screen and the soft hum of the heater kept him awake. He had his computer and his two notebooks and finally his preferred pen all lined up as he paused and unpaused the tv. This was his third rewatch of the game. He watched it re-reading the notes he took initially, then again finally taking new notes with the right notebook and pen, and finally, what he had originally planned on doing tomorrow, go through the game bit by bit, pausing and rewinding while writing down on his Midori MD notebook. After that, he would use all he had written down to begin writing the script for the video.

He paused the screen on a frame of her face.

She was injured. Seemingly nobody else could tell. He hadn't seen a goal like that in months, somehow flying past the other team's perfect coordination. It was almost as if it were mathematically calculated on the fly. Only to then proceed to fall flat on her face. It was undeniable that she carried the game, but her apparent inability to do so without nearly breaking her jaw was fascinating. He couldn't help but chuckle at himself as he watched her smash into the boarder of the rink for the second time. Clumsy wasn't quite the word to describe her. It would have been much simpler if he could pin her down in any way. Her playstyle was erratic, she played well enough with her team, but there were times where it appeared as though the world around her disappeared and she was locked in to the goal. She simultaneously had incredible and terrible spatial awareness, and the crazy thing is that it all somehow brought her to victory against one of the most ruthless teams he had ever seen. To say she had potential felt like both an understatement and also blatantly wrong. She was more akin to throwing a bull in a flock of sheep and seeing what happened. The entire time, he couldn't help a certain giddiness from filling him. He wasn't going to be covering anything other than the PHF for the time being. Audience engagement be damned. This was too damn fun.

His determined scribbling was interrupted when he felt a buzz in his right pocket. He stiffly put the pen and notebook down as his back straightened subconsciously. Suddenly the glow of the television in the otherwise dark room felt like something he had to fix, his jacket something to take off indoors, his shades neatly contained in their case in his left drawer something to be ashamed of, and the hour he was out of the house at a death sentence. His chosen ringtone, the only one that didn't drive him insane, made him feel cumbrous. Alan hesitated for only a second before pulling out the phone and staring at the screen. He already knew who it was. Nobody else ever called him. He paused the game. Both sounds at once were searing to his senses. Of course. This was inevitable. He had sworn to himself that he would call at the right time from his office and save himself the trouble. This was just his unavoidable punishment for breaking his perfectly calculated routine, because the damage it did to his nerves wasn't suffering enough.

The phone was still ringing. He took a deep breath and placed it down on the table and answered, immediately putting it on speaker.

“Mothe-“

“Why didn't you call me?”

“I-“

“You scared me beyond belief! Where are you?”

“At home.”

He definitely felt his eye twitch as he said that but he would live.

“Who are you with? You should have called me, Alan, who is at your house right now?”

"Mother, no one. I am here alone.”

“You would have called me if you were alone at home, or are you out there somewhere? Why don't you call me when we agreed to?”

“I simply got caught up in… work, in work I have to do around the house. I was going to call you. It is only ten minutes late.”

“Hah! Tell me what of all the times you've yelled and cried and threw a fit when I was late to something then?! When I started lessons five minutes late Alan?! Are you going to pay me back for that?!”

“I have apologized multiple times for that mother. Please.”

“Oh! But then what about when the doctor took all of ten seconds to arrive and you threw a fit?!”

“I was five.”

“Don't get smart with me, I am still your mother. Now where are you and who are you with?!”

He thought about it. About the semantics of putting up a lie. Of how much it would take to convince her. Concluding that he could not fool her as she would eventually demand he share his location on his phone. He threw in the towel.

“Fine! I stayed late at the office working. I'm sorry. I won't let work interfere with our call agai-“

“Don't call it work! You had a job four years ago, and when you finally make something out of this obsession of yours you throw it away because, baby can't have everything exactly how he likes it!”

Her high pitched mocking tone made him grip the edge of the table.

“Mother, I have paid your electricity bill, water bill and phone bill for the month and I've been affording my medications just fine. You can't deny the fact that I make a living honestly.”

“I have done nothing but support you your entire life, the doctors told me you might never so much as be independent. I never gave up on you and even when you could have been a doctor you chose to throw our lives away because you could never let go of this game.”

He sighed, leaning back on his chair. He was too worked up by the game, that's why this felt more irritating than normal. Breathing out, he took the phone and turned off the speaker mode, putting it to his ear.

“What can I do to make this up for you?”

His voice was calm. Gentle. A practiced measure of breath that flowed just right in his voice to sound like what he had learned was supposed to be the sound of sincerity.

“Well you can get a real job first of all. But for this we can have lunch tomorrow. I haven't seen you in a while. I miss you Alan. You barely ever talk to me anymore.”

He pointedly ignores the urge to correct that he calls her every day at eight pm sharp. And that she visited his apartment unprompted last week.

“I miss you too.”

Gentle. He could not risk a hint of anything hard making its way onto his voice.

“I'll have something prepared for you tomorrow.”

“Ugh. Sweetie, I am not eating meat with peas again. We're going to a restaurant. It really is time you eat like an adult sometimes.”

He wanted to ask what exactly she meant by that but knew that doing so would only bring trouble.

“Alright sure. There are three places I like so-“

“I said like an adult. I'll pick the restaurant. There is this one near the house that I've been meaning to try.”

“What's it called?

He was already opening up a new tab on his computer to look up this restaurant, wanting to have a good look at the menu beforehand.

“I'll tell you where it is, when you come pick me up.”

“Fuck…” he muttered under his breath before he could stop himself and immediately regretted it.

“What was that? Are you mumbling to yourself? What did you say? Are you giving me lip right after I give you a chance for me to forgive you?!

He felt himself deflate as he listened to the ranting on the other line. Dammit. While he listened he turned off the tv and began to pack his things to go home. He wouldn't be getting any more work done now.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She bonked her head against the wall. Leaning against it with all the weight of her misery. She had forgotten, she always did, and yet it felt worse every time. Robin groaned. No wonder her hair felt wrong. She had left her cornrows for an entire week too long. Sam having been the only one to have made note of it. Perhaps it had been her own dread that had led her to subconsciously procrastinate the hair appointment; those were the bane of her existence. She should just do what Sam did and cut it all as short as possible, but she knows she would cry at the mirror if she did that.

She removed her face from the wall. It was embarrassing to be moping like this out in the open. She wished they would have at least let her wait inside the hair salon, but she couldn't complain given that the stylist still chose to do her hair after she arrived twenty minutes late and let the next person take her spot, this was more of a time out than anything.

It didn't help that it was an absolutely miserable day. It wasn't raining but it could at any minute, the gray clouds overhead making their presence known citywide. It was just cold enough to be uncomfortable, and she had naturally overestimated her tolerance and had brought only a thin jacket. She leaned against the wall and crossed her arms, phone too low on battery for her to mindlessly scroll her time away.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------—

He was not faring much better, fighting for his life to not cave and order something from the children's menu out of pure desperation. The menu was an amalgamation of salads and pasta, and every time he found something that seemed fine, some ingredient showed up that made him shiver at the mere thought of it on his tongue. He measured how long he stared at each page after he read it, knowing that going through them too quickly or too slowly would earn him a comment from the woman sitting across from him. Who at the moment was rambling about her hair.

“It is only natural that hair begins to turn white mother, you shouldn't be this worried about it.”

“I know, but I don't want to look like an old lady, Alan. There is nothing more loathsome than white hairs on a woman.”

“And what about a man?”

“You know what I mean!”

He did not.

“I have white hair.” he uttered flatly. Her face did not change in the slightest at his words, but she did turn to look at him.

“You know I don't mean you baby. You are very handsome for having your condition.”

He only held in a breath and took the compliment as it was. Alan had never truly understood where he fell in the spectrum of physical appeal. Years ago, his coworkers had relentlessly mocked him when he revealed that the only reference he had at the time for his own appearance was his mother's opinion. And after, during his very short lived relationship, his girlfriend had only ever called him “unique” or "interesting." He eventually concluded that he was most likely unattractive, as he had observed that those who were societally considered the most appealing lacked any sort of condition or physical defect. A state of being incompatible with his albinism.

Thankfully, today the weather was easy on him. It was dark enough outside that he could comfortably leave his shades in their case, saving himself a lecture from his mother about wearing them indoors. The restaurant they were in was only being lit by the large windows that took up the wall, leaving their table in relative darkness at the corner of the space.

His mother kept on talking about the hair salon that was on the other side of the street and how nice the hairdressers were until he finally decided to look over.

He did not recall standing up.

His mother was already frantic, asking him what was wrong and telling him to sit back down, his eyes were glued to the other side of the street, at the wall that was barely there before it turned into a corner, and the woman leaning against it. On their own accord, his legs began to move. He only managed to barely stop himself to let out a breathy, “I'll be back.”

Before he was rushing out of the restaurant, fumbling with his cap and sunglasses, barely putting them on before stumbling outside. Alan damn near forgot to look for a crosswalk and was almost about to beeline it across the street. The fact that the woman had already caught him staring right at her and looked back only delighted him further. It took him much longer than he would have liked to cross the street properly and jog his way up to her.

“You're Robin Ayou!”

He basically cornered her against the wall with his massive stature, quite a feat given that Robin was quite tall herself.

“Oh my goodness I saw your debut yesterday, I must say it was fascinating! I need to know what your thought process was during that first goal and how you measure your passes, because I've only ever seen a few players do anything like it. It is only a first impression for the PHF but I briefly looked at some of your games in the NCAA and I noticed that you have been-“

“Wow wow! Ok pretty boy slow down!”

“I-... What?”

The rambling was abruptly cut off, as his shoulders fell along with any sign of life he exhibited. It seemed that he nearly stopped breathing for a second. As for Robin. She stood there, mouth open and eyes wide.

“That… was supposed to be an inside observation.”

She freaked out when his face got redder than she'd ever seen on anyone before, almost making her ask if he was ok and if she needed to call an ambulance. But she guessed it was inevitable, because this guy was fucking pale. The very little skin she could see was nearly flat white with a fleshy pink undertone. Now that she thought of it, she doesn't know why she ever thought he was pretty if she could barely see him under his sunglasses and the Florida Stalkers cap.

“Listen, I'm not the weirdo in this situation!” She flusteredly pointed at him, and his dumbfounded expression quickly made its way into one of epiphany.

“Oh. I did not introduce myself.” He deflated as he spoke, stiffening his shoulder and lowering his head to look at the floor. “My name is Alan Silvester.”

She could have sworn she'd heard that name before but could not for the life of her remember where.

“Alright… you clearly know who I am. Big hockey fan? Must be if you've got me pinned after being in the PHF for a day.”

There was something. An ever so subtle tug at the corner of his lips that Robin wouldn't have noticed if she wasn't looking so intently.

“Absolutely,” he said somewhat breathlessly. Robin couldn't help but smirk coyly.

“So what, you want an autograph or something?” She was only half joking.

“Oh, no. I actually work as an independent ice hockey analyst and it would be incredible if I could get your direct input for my content.”

It took her a minute trying to figure out what “independent analyst” meant. She could only guess he was some kind of reporter.

“What like an interview?”

Alan lit up just a little.

“That is a good way to format it. I've never had the opportunity to interview a player before! If you could be in the video, that would be incredib-“

“ALAN!”

He was abruptly cut off by the voice of a woman screeching from further down the street. His panic returned stronger than ever and he turned to Robin, frantically pulling out a receipt from his pocket and writing down a couple of things on the back of it.

“This is my channel and my assistant's phone number.” He barely got her to take it from his hands before he was yanked by the arm, a shiver violently rushing through his body leaving him grimacing and struggling against the older woman that had come up to grab him.

“I am so sorry! He didn't mean to scare you. He won't bother you again I promise!”

They were already halfway across the street when he yelled, “Call my assistant if you're willing to do an interview, please!”

“Shut UP Alan!”

The two began arguing until they both returned to the inside of the restaurant they came from and Robin was left staring at her own reflection. She nearly dropped the paper in her astonishment. She looked down at it and saw a number and the name of the man that had just accosted her. The woman could not think of what to even do with herself at that moment, so with the only brain cell she had left, she took out her phone and called Cal.

“I am not getting you coffee. Do that yourself,” was the first sentence she was greeted with when he answered the call.

“Cal, some guy just recognized me in the middle of the street and begged me to do an interview with him.”

“Oh shit after only one game? Who the hell was it?”

“He said his name was Alan… uuuuuh Silvester?”

The pause that ensued was unbearably long, so much so that she had to wonder if her signal had gone bad.

“Robin what the fuck?”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It took all of one afternoon for Robin to lose the receipt with the phone number. She had intended to keep it, and she swore up and down she had put it in her pocket, but that was not good enough, and when she looked through the pockets of her entire wardrobe trying to find it, and was unsuccessful. It left her horribly distracted during practice, along with the feeling of her newly fucked tooth which she would keep accidentally poaking her tongue against. Fortunately, if Robin had only one thing, it would be exceptional luck. It was five pm by the time she stepped out of the arena, barely tired from the day's training. Normally she would take this time to go on a complimentary run, but she had to meet someone.

The bus takes light years to get there. Her motorcycle was still at the repair shop, and she had already spent enough on ubers for one day by taking one to the arena that very morning. She goes through the gates of the apartment building, and gets on the elevator. Her and Cal had keys to each other's houses. It was often very convenient, as it allowed them to get stuff at any time.

Robin obliviously opened the door and was greeted with a sight she had never hoped to see.

It was Cal and who she could only assume was his brand new boyfriend of two weeks, up against a wall, one shirtless, making out in the middle of the living room.

“Oooh! Ew! What the shit?!”

She yelled in disgust. They stopped what they were doing, and Cal turned around hysterically.

“Robin! Get out!”

“You are disgusting! You literally invited me over, and this is what you're doing?!”

They yell back and forth, and the other man awkwardly finds his shirt not too far away on the couch and puts it on again. He stands there for about ten minutes until the other two have argued for long enough that they fell bitterly silent. He eventually builds up the courage to speak.

“You're… the hockey player, right?”

“And youre the guy whose fucking my friend I see,” she responded sharply, making Cal step in between them with the intention of defending the other man's honor.

“Don't be mean to him, it's not his fault.”

She laughed almost bitterly. “I can only guess whatever editorial you work for only hires people with no social awareness.”

Ryley slid his hand across his face, almost painfully so, before taking a step towards her. "Ok, bitch, I WISH it was a fucking editorial, I work for a youtuber.”

“Oh, my god, I would actually kill myself,” she said quickly, though her voice did not have a hint of sympathy. Cal once again interjected.

“Robin, your entire electricity bill is basically just youtube.”

“Yeah, and it's stupid. I thought you knew that.”

“Ugh, I wish my boss knew that. He is genuinely convinced he is a legit analyst. He takes it all super seriously,” Ryley huffed, hunching his back over in exhaustion at the mere mention of his work.

“I mean, sure he might… have a screw or two loose, but it just looks like he really cares.” Robin definitely didn't think the man seemed normal in any way, but she didn't detect anything malicious or really unforgivable about him.

“Oh he cares. He cares a lot. About every little thing. He only uses one specific brand and type of pen, and then writes his short notes in this one type of notebook and then writes his other notes in a different kind of notebook and he goes actual batshit if you don't bring him that. Like a third of the budget is only his supplies.”

“Oh yeah, that sounds insufferable,” she had to concede.

Ryley stepped forward, standing now in front of Robin. “Take it from me. Don't do it. He interviewed me when I applied for the job, and I've never been that uncomfortable in my life.”

Robin sighed and put her bag down on the floor by the door. She slumped over to the fridge, not bothering to ask for permission, and looked through it. Cal and her had completely opposite diets, meaning his fridge was always stocked with tasty food and drinks that a professional athlete should definitely not be consuming. Robin liked to make the excuse that because it wasn't her place or her money spent on the junk food then it didn't count. She took out a beer and made her way to look for a bottle opener.

“I mean sure this isn't as cool as being interviewed by like Sol Sports or whatever, but when am I going to get a chance to do this again?”

“You'll definitely be on youtube often if you keep falling over like that,” Cal chuckled. She did not find it funny and had no qualms about playing dirty.

“Shut your mouth or Imma tell him the thing.” She pointed at Ryley with her thumb.

Cal suddenly tensed up and whispered sharply: “You fucking wouldn't!”

“What thing?” Ryley asked, suddenly feeling stupid for not understanding whatever insider knowledge was being discussed. Robin only raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing! There is no thing to be talking about!” Cal hissed adamantly, and that was that. She finally got the beer open and chugged down. There was a hot minute of silence while she finished half the bottle.

“Listen“ -she burped. “How many subscribers does he have?”

“Gross. Last time I checked, about eight point fifty k.” Ryley quickly recounted.

“That's not that big.”

“It's been tanking quite a bit recently. He gets way more traction on his twitter.”

He approached to show her his phone and Robin took the opportunity to look up both the channel and the twitter account.

“Well now he's got eight k and one.” She tapped the subscribe button on the screen and soon after pressed follow on twitter.

“You're really doing this?” Cal wasn't surprised. Robin had always been somewhat of a diva, it didn't make him any less uneasy about the prospect.

“Fuck it. Why not? I get to look cool and professional, and he gets something to talk about. He's basically my number one fan. Come on.”

“He'd harass any player. You're not special,” Ryley dryly interjected, making Robin almost spike up like a cat in defensiveness.

“You don't know that!”

“Will your coach approve this?” Cal reminded her of her position in the metaphorical race. She winced at the mention of that woman.

“She's not the boss of me. I can do whatever I want.”

“Robin, she is quite literally the boss of you.”

“It'll be fine!” She looked over at Ryley with a smile. “Tell him I said yes. And that he's going to need to remind me cause I'm definitely going to forget.”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

His videos made their way onto her feed a few times now, but she kept putting them on “Watch later," telling herself she'd get around to watching them eventually. Some of them were hours long, how was she supposed to sit through that? She still had a while until her next game, so she fell into the lul of training, running, coming home, making impulse purchases online, and sleeping.

She had given Ryley her phone number and he then gave it to Alan. He had a… unique way of texting, sending absurdly long, multi paragraph messages that Robin could only skim through. What she had managed to keep up with was his twitter. He was really active. Talking with everyone who commented about the latest game, player, or strategy and would get into heated arguments with anyone who disagreed with him. Though he never seemed to do what you'd normally do on twitter and just insult them and have that be it. No, he would genuinely structure arguments, cite sources, and go on multi tweet rants, reaching the daily tweet limit constantly. She tried to find a picture of him or food or a tweet about the weather but every single thing he posted was dedicated to hockey through and through. It only took Robin a few minutes of scrolling to find a very common response;

“Bro is acoustic.”

Usually along with some meme. It triggered something sour in her mouth. She almost responded many times that it was wrong to assume things like that of people. That it wasn't some joke. But she knew she'd only look like a killjoy and might get some flack for it if she did. She thought, sure, he cared about this game a lot, it didn't mean there was anything…. wrong, with him. She could only think of how she would feel if people talked like that about her. If they joked about her being… deficient. She would distract herself quickly with internet brainrot before she got too caught up in that thought, lest she start drowning in memories of middle school again.

What mattered is she had a date, well it was technically a business meeting but she used that word to mess with her mom when she had to turn her down for dinner that day. Alan had scheduled it at a rather cheap restaurant, which she was happy about. She fucked up and showed up a whole thirty minutes early just to prevent being late, so she was walking in circles around the block, looking through her friends instagram stories as she went. Quickly going past one of Sam going out with her coach, ugh. She was on her ninth lap when she spotted an uproariously tall man with a jacket, sun shades, and a cap, this time with a Reapers logo on it. She only knew it was him by intuition before she waved at him as he walked over.

They only exchanged minor pleasantries before they made their way inside. By the time they had taken their seat at the table they were already approached by a waiter who clearly recognized him. He said that he would like some before ordering this time and the waiter left them alone. Robin could only smile amusedly.

“Come here often?”

He jumped a little, as if he wasn't expecting her to speak.

“Once a week. I am sorry. I chose this place because it is one I'm familiar with. I don't do well eating in new places. I know this is no place to bring a pretty lady.”

Robin briefly choked on her water, her expression hiding nothing. His deadpan face only made the ordeal stranger.

“What? I thought it was fair after “pretty boy."“

“I… thought you would forget that.”

“Miss Ayou, come on. I am autistic, not stupid.

The atmosphere dropped immediately. Her flustered expression quickly changed into one of deep discomfort. It took her a minute to figure out what to say next.

“Don't... don't say that about yourself.”

“It's true. Most people who are familiar with me have already figured it out. What's that stupid word they use on the internet for it now? Acoustic? I have no idea what the joke is supposed to be.”

Despite everything, he appeared as relaxed as ever. It only made her tense up more.

“It's not funny.”

“No, it is not. But when is X ever truly funny?”

“There is nothing wrong with you.”

She insisted, leaning towards him. His relaxed expression fell away, replaced with guarded confusion as he finally took his shades off. His pale eyes looked at her with hesitant intensity.

“I never said there was anything wrong with me.”

Robin was slightly taken aback, some words she didn't know stuck in her throat. They stayed like that for what seemed like an eternity.

“I have made you uncomfortable.”

His sorry tone got the blood pumping back in her veins.

“No no no! You didn't! Ah, I'm just stupid, don't mind me. Heh…”

“You're not stupid.”

She smirked in a way that was weirdly tense but frighteningly natural for her. “Oh you don't know me. I'm a mess!”

She detected a hint of that smile again. At that moment he put away his sunglasses and took his cap off. Robin was a little shocked when seeing him. White down to his eyelashes. She was only mildly disturbed out of unfamiliarity and concern but at no point did she think the title of “pretty boy” was any less accurate.

“Well, messy maybe. I can't quite deny that after seeing you trip over yourself the way you did in that game.”

She sunk back in shame, covering her face with her hands. “Ugh! Don't remind me.”

“Are you alright by the way? You clearly hurt yourself.”

She looked at him in horror. “You could tell?”

“Apparently only me. I am sorry, the staff at your game didn't do a very good job at taking care of you.”

“They're not there to take care of us.”

“Yes they are. And so should you.”

She sighed. Just when she thought she'd met someone who wouldn't lecture her. “Ok, you're right.”

“You didn't answer me.”

“Answer what?”

“Are you alright?”

“Oh yes! I'm fine now, don't worry. Also…” She turned meek, playing with a coil of her hair now only in a ponytail.

“Hm?”

“Maybe, don't mention that in the video?”

“I can't make any promises. I aim for accuracy and transparency. Actually that is why I wanted to meet with you. I have written down the interview questions and wanted to give them to you before the day of recording,” he said, pulling out a piece of paper and handing it to her. She looked at it briefly, only noting the first three questions before folding it up and putting it in her pocket.

“Wouldn't you want to ask me those, you know, on the interview?”

“I am not very well versed at interviewing people. So I decided to give you a heads up. I want you to go through them carefully and come up with the best, most detailed responses possible. And I wanted to discuss them all with you in case you took issue with any of them.”

She stared a bit dumbfounded before chuckling. “Well you sure are prepared.”

He straightened his jacket. “I am.”

She liked that.

“Sure, we'll talk about them in a minute. My friend told me that you used to be a commentator?”

“Oh yeah. Four years ago.”

Robin did some quick math and took a good look at his face.

“How old are you?”

“Thirty years old.”

“Oh shit!” she let out without meaning to. Her face went hot at the information, suddenly making her feel a little shy in front of him.

“Is something wrong?”

“No! Nothing! That's great!”

“Really? That's a… pretty neutral piece of information.”

She laughed nervously. Fuck, she really was no better than her sister. “You just don't… look thirty.”

He suddenly snorted. Flushing red like crazy himself. She almost got scared again.

“I don't go out in the sun very often, so that might be it?”

“Oh yeah, I didn't want to say anything about it, but you're the single whitest person I've ever seen.”

“Albino. I mean, I am ethnically considered white as well. But my appearance is mostly the result of being an albino.”

“Oh like a Biter.”

Whatever smile there was dropped and he looked at her bewildered. It took Robin a second to realize that was a weird as fuck thing to say and she hurried to explain herself. “I- I mean… Agh! Sorry, I just thought of albino Biter fish and, oh nevermind, forget it, I'm sorry.”

“I didn't know fish could have albinism.”He couldn't help staring when her face lit up in delight. She excitedly pulled out her phone and began typing.

“Oh it's super cool! Look!”She pushed the phone to his face. It showed an image of a small, yellowish wrinkly animal with disturbing white eyes, two on each side.

“That is one strange looking…thing.”

“Well it's technically called a Blighter not a Biter. They’re slower than Biters and often get rejected from packs so they hunt alone.”

“They're really odd looking.”

“Oh you haven't seen shit. Wait a second.” She typed something again and happily pulled up the image.

“Oh, what the fuck is that?”

The image showed a massive creature, with four huge eyes, attached to a bulbous body stuck inside some sort of translucent jell sack, lord knows how many spindly legs and thousand yard stare.

“That's a crab squid! They're super hard to study because they can produce electromagnetic waves that temporarily shut down submarines.”

“Well I certainly wouldn't want to find that while swimming in the ocean.”

“Oh they can be aggressive. Lowkey filled with hatred. But I would give anything to dive with one of these.”

“Do you just like getting hurt?”

“I would be careful! I wouldn't want to scare it!”

“Well I'm a little scared of you right now.”

“Well how do you think I felt when you ran at me out of nowhere in the street after gawking at me like a lunatic?”

He tapped his fingers on the table. “Alright that is fair.”

She laughed and they finally ordered: he just said “the usual”. Meanwhile she had visions of coach Maida yelling at her about nutrition and ordered a salad. It had chicken at least. She suggested they share the cheapest wine bottle on the menu but he said he had to drive, and she couldn't convince him. After a few seconds of silence and eating, Robin proposed something.

“You know? I'm gonna try to get you tickets to my next game, get you the best look at the action.”

“Oh no, do not bother, I don't go to games.”

“What?! But you have to!”

“I don't like it.”

“Why the hell not?!”

“It's too loud, there are too many people, it's too bright and a myriad of other things. I tried it once when I was a kid and had a meltdown.”

He didn't catch on to how sad for him she felt in that moment.

“Im so sorry…”

“Don't be. If anything you should be sorry for my poor mother who worked extremely hard to obtain tickets and had to deal with me and leave early because I couldn't handle it.” He looked oddly neutral while he recounted the story. Not sad, but not warm either. His eyes looked dead as he stared down at his food. An omelette. It was awkward between them for a moment, before Robin took a long sip of her drink.

“So you've liked hockey since you were little?”

A certain liveliness came to his face. Not an expression, his features (as they had for most of the night) remained generally unmoving. It was something else. An unimaginably subtle opening of his eyelids and a straightening of his eyebrows.

“Yes, since I was nine.”

“How'd it start?”

"Well, it was one of the only sports I could play.”

“You played?!” She leaned back, entertained by the prospect.

“Only until I was eleven. The equipment got far too expensive. I don't miss it all that much to be honest.”

“Oh that sucks. But why could you only play that?”

“My school did a lot of extracurricular activities, that included multiple sports, but most of them were outdoors. I could not be outside the way the other kids could, so I played inside.”

“And you just got hooked on it.”

“I took it significantly more seriously than anyone on my team did. I always tried to strategize and play based on research, but unfortunately that is not a substitute for raw athleticism.”

“But you're huge! Like what? Two meters?”

“Two meters and ten centimeters, to be exact.”

“God, how do you even find pants?”

“It is, in fact, a nightmare, not to mention the right texture as well. But anyway, it is highly debated how much size matters in ice hockey, obviously it is an advantage, especially in defensive situations but there is more to the subject. There is a very interesting video about it, I'll send it to you. And also, I was actually very short when I was younger. The shortest one on my team.”

“Oh like a Gargantuan leviathan baby.”

“Are you always going to compare me to animals?”

“Hey, I'd take it as a compliment. Did you know adult Gargantuans are the biggest animals to have ever existed that we know about?”

“I don't know much about zoology, but surely there were prehistoric species that were larger.”

“Nope! The biggest animal they've found since was the Sea emperor. That one was only two hundred meters long. Unfortunately, that one just went extinct recently…”

He didn't know what to do when she suddenly looked genuinely sad. He resorted to changing the subject.

"Well, the tallest recorded player in the NHL was Zdeno Chára.”

“Who is that? I thought it was John Scott.”

He gripped his fork a little tighter.

“I am always shocked by how little players actually know about their own history.”

He was lucky she thought his grumpy attitude was cute.

“Sure, boss. How many players have you met?”

“I used to meet them a lot more when I was a commentator. I've met Danby Fidle, Jochi Khasar and David Hollister.”

“That sounds amazing. Why did you stop?”

He answered immediately, with a blistering honesty she almost felt assaulted by. His nearly imperceptible smile as if he were saying the most obvious thing in the world brought up a certain feeling in her chest. “Because like this I get to talk about things I truly find interesting. Like you.”

They never did get around to talking about those interview questions. She only said she would read them later.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A knock sounded at the door at the apartment. Six pm on a Friday.

“You better not be fucking in there or I'm gonna kill you.” Robin's voice was muffled by the door. The two men on the couch scrolling on their phones cringed at the comment.

“Alright. I'm coming in. One, two, three!” She opened the door and walked inside. When she saw the unimpressive scene before her, she was quick to throw her bag aside and stomp over to where they were. She stood tall by the couch in front of Ryley. He didn't look up at her until Cal nudged him.

“What?”

“What is wrong with you?!”

He squinted at her, expecting her to elaborate, which only made her more angry.

“Why would you talk about him like that?”

“How did you find that? Listen, I said what I said. Milei is a leech on the country, I don't care how progressive he is, the chainsaw shit was pathetic.”

“Ah- What? No! You idiot! I'm talking about Alan!”

“Oh, my god. Don't tell me youre on his side.”

Calvin gave a tired expression and sighed. “Please don't start fighting.”

To no avail.

“He's a sweetheart!”

“He's neurotic!”

“And so what?! He likes stuff a certain way. What's wrong with that?!”

“You don't know him like I do!”

“Oh really? What's his favorite color?”

“Oh my god, I hate you both.” Cal would have put on headphones if he could, but he contented himself with going back to looking through emails on his phone.

“Why the fuck would I know that?!”

“Well it's green, so checkmate!” She walked away, over to the counter where she saw the hair ties she had left last time she was there.

“That is not a checkmate!” Ryley burst out, looking at Cal for support, but he refused to look away from his phone. Making it clear that he was tuning them both out.

“He's so nice and patient. I said a ton of stupid stuff when I was out with him and he didn't get mad once.”

“Well just you wait until he complains about the smell of your deodorant and makes you change it.”

“Well if he asked me to, I just might!”

“Listen whatever! He said he would give you the interview questions. Do you have them?”

“Yeah! Right he-“ She reached into her pocket. Then stopped. She looked again. Deeper this time. Then at the other pocket. Then at her left pant pocket, then the right one. After a second she went over to her bag.

“I have them.”

Ryleys jaw dropped. “No… YOU LOST THEM?!”

“No no I didn't, just give me a SECOND!”

Cal finally zoned back in and stared at her with knowing concern. Ryley was already sweating.

“He's gonna kill us…” Ryley murmured almost inaudibly. Robin winced and grunted, kicking her bag and standing up to pace around the room. “God fucking dammit. I had them…”

She stopped dead in her tracks and massaged her temples. “Ok. Ok ok ok ok ok. Cool. Cool cool cool cool cool. It's fine. It's fine! This is an interview. It's about me! I know me! He'll ask me about how I started playing and what my training routine is, stuff like that.”

“He won't! That's what a normal person would ask!”

She fumed. “Hey! He is perfectly normal!”

“Yeah! So is the current state of Buenos Aires!”

“What the fuck are you talking about?!”

“You know what? This is not my fault. He said he wanted to give them to you himself. This is beyond my job description.” he said as he took deep breaths. Robin on the other hand was chewing her nails, going back to pacing. Cal let out a deep sigh and finally spoke.

“Just ask him for the questions again. You have his number.”

“What?! No! I don't want him to think I'm an idiot! Or that I don't care!”

Ryley was annoyingly quick to add; “Well if he's so nice and patient, then surely he won't.” The sarcasm in his voice made her blood boil. She couldn't decide if she wanted to kill herself or him. She looked over at Cal. “Why are you dating him again?”

“Why do you care so much about what some youtuber thinks?”

She pouted and he just raised an eyebrow at her. The stare off lasted for a few seconds before she gave up.

“You know what? It will be fine. I'm good at talking. I've always been best when I improvise. Having all the questions laid out would have probably only made me overthink it.”

“Sure. This is your problem. I'm going to the bathroom.” Ryley left the living room and Cal finally stood up and walked over to Robin. He placed a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Robin, just ask him. I know it might suck but you'll regret it if you don't.”

“Hey hey don't worry. I can handle an interview.”

“Why are you so scared of him judging you?”

“I…” She realized at that moment that she didn't have an answer. She bit her lip for a moment, before getting a determined twinkle in her eye.

“I'm done looking stupid in front of people.”

“Who cares what they think?”

She took him by the shoulders, leaning down to his level and shaking him slightly. “You wouldn't get it because no one thinks you're an idiot. You remember how it was in school. I'd ask a teacher to repeat what they said and they'd yell at me. The coach thinks the same.”

Her face tightened, and she took a shaky breath. “This guy respects me. For once someone doesn't see me as a complete disaster. And I don't want to ruin that.”

He looked her in the eye and squeezed her shoulder. “I respect you.”

There was a sour look in Robin's eyes. Almost making the man think she might doubt his words. He wanted to reassure her, but she interrupted too quickly for him to do so:. “Ugh I know. But you know me too well.”

She smiled dolefully. It only made him more uneasy.

“And what happens when he gets to know you too?”

In that moment, the heavy expression faded away. As if dissolved in water, almost instantly. And it was jarringly replaced with a manufactured confidence. A nonchalance that glowed in her features as she slightly tilted her head.

“He won't.” She took a deep breath and straightened herself up. His hand falling away. Her smile was bright and her head was held high.

“He wanted Robin the hockey star. And that's exactly who he'll get!”

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

She debated on how much makeup she should have on, or if any at all. She opted for a light look. Covering up some bruises and scratches. Checking herself over and over in nearby car windows and storefronts, she had made her way to the location Ryley had given her. It was quite a boring small building, but to be fair she was still surprised that he had an office at all. Expecting a youtuber to run their entire operation from their bedroom. It had only been a few days since their little dinner meeting and during that time Robin had made the attempt to text him more. It was during those text conversations where she had finally truly realized.

It was really hard to talk to him about anything other than ice hockey.

She guessed at first that he was maybe just being professional. But then again she didn’t know what strategies of games from 1967 or the individual weights of other players had to do with their arrangement. She suddenly had to wonder, did he… have anyone to hear him talk about this endlessly? At no point did he mention any friends. Making Robin feel oddly protective of the man, letting him ramble to his heart's content and doing her absolute best to keep track of as much of it as she could. Ryley's incessant comments made that protective instinct even stronger. To the point where she was determined to not only steamroll this interview, but to have a great time with her new buddy doing it.

She arrived soon enough and was let in by Ryley, who did little more than give her the side eye and point to where she needed to go. The office consisted of four rooms that she didn't bother asking permission to look through. One was a small room with nothing but a desk and a television mounted to the wall, it looked vaguely creepy if you asked her. There was Ryley small dedicated office, full of a variety of labeled boxes that she couldn't quite believe were his doing. A storage closet that had been made into a makeshift audio recording booth, and finally the recording studio. It was a somewhat small room with a large whiteboard. Opposite to it, she could spot a mounted camera and what looked like a projector. Robin remembered a few of the videos' thumbnails, where he would draw complicated diagrams over the projection of a frame of the game, she thought it was fairly clever.

It was in that room where she found him. Scribbling on a pristine looking notebook on a table that was set off to the side. He didn't notice her immediately, but was most likely startled when he did. Most likely because Robin wasn't entirely sure given that he only tensed up and threw up his eyebrows slightly.

“Mis Ayou.”

She smiled, tilting her head. “Need help with anything?” She approached and saw him put his notebook down on a chair and hold his pen a little tighter.

“You arrived twenty minutes earlier than the appointed time. I am not ready to receive you.”

Robin looked at her phone. He was right. She did it on purpose. She knew that if she didn't get there as early as possible, she would inevitably end up late.

“It's fine. I can help set things up. I don't mind.”

“You should have come when we agreed to, please do that next time we have an arrangement.”

Robin took a step back suddenly feeling a little uneasy in the room.

“Are you mad at me?” She sounded incredulous.

“Upset, yes”

“Oh.” She shrunk back. Fidgeting with her hair, his face doesn't change as she asked herself, should he be at least a little happy to see her?

“Should I leave?”

“There would be no point to that now. If you are offering to assist, please move this table in front of the whiteboard.”

She swallowed uncomfortably. The shut blinds of the room made it seem smaller, making her feel somewhat trapped in. She did as he asked, and the table was quickly in place. He took little time taking a pair of chairs to stand behind it and began to fiddle with what she assumed was a pair of microphones. She sighed. “So… how have you been lately?”

“Stressed beyond belief. I have been receiving calls from debt collectors for a specific debt that has been sold and purchased at least four times by different companies. All of them have tried to bait me into paying it without sending verification that it is even mine. I've been disputing it for months and I know it isn't mine, for which I am not worried about payment but it is a hassle.”

She barked out a laugh so loud she thought the lower floor might have been able to hear it. Alan only stared at her, even seeming startled.

“What is it?”

She chuckled a little more. “Nothing, nothing. It's just you're the only person I've met that answers that question that honestly.”

“I… am sorry? Have I bothered you?”

“No no, I like that about you.”

He looked away from her and back to the microphones, finally setting them up each at either side of the table. “The exact value of honesty is difficult to quantify.”

“What do you mean?”

“I have been told countless times that honesty is a desirable trait. But it's entirely circumstantial in a way that seemingly can't be telegraphed.”

She approached him again, feeling lighter this time. "Yeah, it's one of those things you're just supposed to know somehow. I can see how that can get pretty annoying.”

“I do appreciate you tolerating that fact about me.”

She rolled her eyes and smirked. “I don't tolerate you. I like you.”

He was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time, leaving Robin to wonder if what she said was out of line.

“Thank you” he mumbled just high enough for her to hear, she couldn't help but smile wider as she looked at their setup. She walked around the room slowly, carefully eyeing the camera. She saw at the corner of her eye that Alan was already back to looking over his notebook. She got closer again and reached out to his hand carefully.

“Yo, pass me that pen, check this out.”

He hesitantly passed the pen over to her, letting out a quick “Be careful with it”. Robin weighed slightly in her palm before moving it up to her fingers and spinning it multiple times in different directions before rolling it back and forth between each finger before finally spinning it quickly over her thumb.

Alan threw up his eyebrows slightly, a small sign that made Robin feel more excited than she probably should. She continued spinning the pen in every way he knew and watched him stare at her hand with nearly mesmerized focus.

“That is quite impressive. How did you learn to do that?”

“Well it's better than chewing on it.”

His eyebrows came down again. “Do not chew on my stationary.”

She laughed. She continued doing tricks for him until a voice came in from the entrance to the room.

“Alright you two, it's time to start setting up and get recording.” Ryley could not have sounded less enthusiastic if he tried. Alan quickly took the pen from her and set it down on the right seat of the desk, where she guessed he would be sitting. She went over and sat down on the left side and waited for further instructions. Soon enough, the mics were turned on and Alan tapped on his a few times.

“Testing. Is the audio recording correctly?”

Robin couldn't help but chuckle. He looked over at her confused, the complete stillness of his face somehow communicated his perplexity in such a perfect way that it made her stifle another laugh.

“Is something funny?” He sounded so neutral about it that Robin didn't feel bad.

“Its really nothing, its just that I just now noticed how old you sound.”

Ryley was actually able to stifle his laughter, and set himself to face down at the floor. Alan should have been at least a little frustrated, but he found the sound of her laughter too pleasant to be bothered.

“It's just, you're thirty, look twenty-five and sound like sixty-seven.”

“And is that amusing?” he asked her simply. It's actually kind of hot. She thought to herself but obviously had no intention to say that.

“Just interesting. Like the rest of you.”

That tiny hint of a smile made its way onto his face again. Robin would have visibly celebrated if she wasn't being watched.

“Mis Ayou, I think it's important to remember that I'm the one interviewing you.”

“I really think it's time you start calling me Robin.”

“You did not ask before referring to me by my first name.”

“Was I wrong to do that?”

“No. The informality is pleasant. I'm glad you feel relaxed. Robin.”

Ryley was two seconds away from killing himself. “Hey! Yeah, I have lunch after this.”

The other two tensed up and she quickly looked away from Alan, she didn't know if his gaze remained on her.

Any remaining preparations were minimal. Robin had already imagined nearly every possible scenario of how this could go and at worst he would ask her an invasive personal question, and she would joke it off and make it seem like it's nothing. Like she said: she was best when she improvised. In what seemed like no time at all the camera was rolling, and she was keenly aware of how Ryley was intensely leering at her as Alan finally began.

“Hello everyone. Like I promised. I have a special video. Today I get to interview the debuting player of the Trivalves, Robin Ayou.”

She had expected a much livelier introduction from a youtuber but he had never seemed like the type. Robin was under the impression that he would put on some sort of persona for his videos but just by that one bit, she figured that was not the case. Wanting to lighten things up she waved at the camera.

“Hi. It's so cool to be here. Thank you so much for inviting me on.”

“Let's get to the questions.” He nearly cut her off. Robin had been prepared for a few minutes of on screen pleasantries and banter, just like how they had on their dinner. She had seen enough shows to have thought that interviews were supposed to be fun. She took a second to straighten herself up and take a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

Alan wasn't looking at the camera or at her, face firmly fixed on his notebook where she could see neatly organized rows of text that she couldn't quite read.

“Do you believe you have improved since your days in the NCAA?”

Wow.

Her mouth nearly fell open and her eyes widened ever so slightly. She wasn't really sure why. Maybe she was so certain that the first question would have been; How did you start playing? that anything else would have caused her to short circuit. Still, she was quick to come up with an answer.

“Well, it would be pretty bad if I hadn’t. Of course I've gotten a lot better since I competed in college.”

At that moment Alan finally looked at her. For some reason, it was unnerving.

“Elaborate.”

She fought not to swallow her saliva. This time it took her a bit longer to come up with something to say in response. “I’ve gotten a lot faster. I was still kind of a newbie in Uni. Compared to most of my teammates, I had only played since later in high school. The others had been since they were little. But here I am anyway. I think that just goes to show that it's never too late to start, you know?”

Bingo. An answer, a little backstory, something inspirational to cap it off. She's got this in the bag.

“And?” Alan's eyes were back on the notebook. His voice was unreadable as he flipped a page.

“A-and?” she questioned in a higher pitch than she would have liked.

“You have increased your movement speed. What else?”

“Well I clearly score a lot more than I used to.”

“With only one game, it is hard to test how consistently you can do that.”

“Well you could say that about anything when I play. Why ask at all then?”

The slight crinkling of paper under his thumb could be heard over a sudden deafening silence that lasted only a few seconds that stretched on for a while.

“Alright. Next question.”

“Y-yeah sure.”

She looked over at Ryley who at this point had turned his attention to his phone. She could see him holding back a giggle, clearly looking at something he found far more entertaining than this.

“What do you do to distinguish yourself from the average player?”

That question suddenly reminded her of the horrible job interviews she had at the beginning of high school. She took a second to put herself in that mindset again. Maybe that would flow more smoothly.

“Well, I am very direct and quite ruthless when playing. I go straight for the shot and don't hesitate when I see an opening.”

“Similarly to Hua Yu. Though not quite comparable.”

What was that supposed to mean?

“I don't think I'm particularly similar to anyone right now when I play.”

He had basically implied that before, right? He said she was truly interesting. Fascinating even. He meant it, right? That hadn't been just sucking up to her to get her to agree to be on here with him… right?

“I agree. You are uniquely rough while playing.”

“Rough good or rough bad?” She almost put her hand over her mouth. She hadn't meant to ask that out loud. It made her sound pathetic.

“Rough is a morally neutral descriptor.”

“Uh- I don't mean like tha- nevermind. Umm, but yeah, I'm quite big for a woman and I use that to my advantage.”

“Alright. Next question.”

She kept trying to find his eyes, to find some type of understanding, but his gaze would simply not connect with her, it was at that moment that she realized that the entire time they had known each other, he had not looked her directly in the eye once. She didn't know why. And suddenly, it made her incredibly nervous.

“Why were you allowed into the Trivalves?”

She blinked a couple of times. “W-why wouldn't I be? I was drafted.”

“Were you given any specific reason?”

Suddenly, a cold shiver ran up her spine. It brought her back to a few days ago, to the words Cal had said to her.

I'm at least seventy percent sure that she only let you into the team because of Sam.

It had her digging her nails into her thigh.

“It's very simple actually. I was good and they saw that.”

“Many university players are good.”

Her breath hitched a little. She could swear a drop of sweat was running down her neck and her foot was tapping nervously on the ground under the table.

“Well I'm great then.” she nearly scowled, having to remind herself that she was on camera. Ryley had suddenly directed his attention back at them and was looking at Robin with a strong sense of dread, realizing the furrowing of his brow and the tensing of his shoulders. Alan, as always, remained unreadable save for the very subtle way that he had caused the ink on the page to slip from the pressure he was putting on it.

“Do you truly believe that?”

“Yes. Why wouldn't I believe that?”

He was quiet. Something that was starting to infuriate her. The pause had lasted long enough that Ryley was gesturing from his place to try to get them to move on and only after Alan caught sight of it did he give any sign of life.

“How do you justify your excessive clumsiness while playing?”

Oh.

Oh.

Is that how it fucking is?

“And tell me, why would you say something so stupid?”

Finally she saw a reaction, like she wanted. He put the notebook down on the table. His eyebrows raised ever so slightly.

“You continuously injure yourself, either crashing or falling over.”

For the first time Alan looked at the camera. Ryley was nearly biting his nails when he did so. He tried to shrug as if to communicate that he had no idea of how to fix the situation.

“Well I don't see any more “graceful” players single handedly scoring three goals against the top women's team right now, so what about that?”

“That… is unrelated to the question.”

“Well move on to another question. I’m not fucking answering that.”

Robin was many things. But a pussy was never one of them. And she wasn't about to get bullied by some wannabe reporter. She looked fiercely at Alan who seemed to only take interest in her tapping foot.

[dippygamer64]

Inktober 2024 — Day 10 — Nomadic

Alright, almost caught up. I actually had to look up the definition of Nomadic because while I’ve heard the term “nomads” before, I couldn’t remember what they were. Once I saw the definition I was instantly reminded of Wei Ying and Lan Zhan at the end of the book series. (I have all the books, I love them so much!!) So I knew I wanted to draw them again, but what crossover could fit? I wasn’t sure if Marinette would fit this time, so I tried thinking of other nomad characters and… I don’t know how I came up with Sun Wukong, specifically LEGO Sun Wukong. But it was the best I could come up with at the time. Then a problem arises with how different the art styles were in both respective animated series. Until I found the chibi animations for Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation and I thought “Why not try that?”

Full disclosure, I don’t really draw Chibi that much. I struggle with what proportions lean too much into “Uncanny Littlest Pet Shop” territory or don’t push it enough and just looks awkward. I was very careful to use references and take my time. With Wukong originally I was going to stick with the Lego animation style but then I tried mixing it with the chibi style to see what happens. It kind of worked, but you can probably tell why I don’t do free hand chibi style all that often.

At the end of the day, I do like it. I especially love how I did Lan Zhan, Wei Ying and Little Apple. I think I actually did really well with replicating the cuter animation. But I do wish I was able to draw Wukong better in the Chibi style, maybe if I made him a bit smaller or made his hair more detailed like the others. Maybe his whole body was just a tad too blocky. Oh well, love and learn.

[titleknown]

It annoys the shit out of me to see people griping about people charging for AI art commissions at market rates when, honestly, normalizing that would actually help a lot with the potential negative effects of AI art on traditional/digital-traditional artists in the commissions marketplace.

Specifically because:

A) By treating it as worth the same money, it normalizes not economically undercutting traditional artists in the market for free, which is one of the big potential problems when it comes to AI art.

B) By incentivizing artists to cultivate the sense of personal style in a way to be worth commissioning, it incentivizes treating AI art as a skill worth taking time on rather than flooding the market with garbage, which also helps with the other big problem of traditional artists being drowned out by easy-to-fart-out visual shovelware.

Like, as much as a lot of y'all hate it, it's like CGI in that it's a a powerful enough tool that it isn't going away even if folks make the mistake of making copyright more draconian to "stop" it, as Adobe has shown.

But, in the same way things could have happened if US labor activism wasn't dead during CG's ascendance, it doesn't have to screw over working artists, I think it can be integrated into the artistic ecosystem, this is one way to help that on the small-scale commission scene, and like...

...Even in a material self-interest sense, would you rather they offered it for free?

[screampotato]

I was watching a YouTuber who was reacting to someone saying, of their child, "she's a non-conformist and that will serve her well in the world", and the reactor was like "yeah, it's great to be a non-conformist, but let's be real, it won't serve you well in the world", and I've been chewing on that ever since.

Like, I do get what he means. People who don't fit in undeniably have it harder than those who do. But at the same time, being a compulsive non-conformist has actually served me pretty well in various ways.

I only had a few friends at school, and never had general popularity, but that meant I never had to deal with all the backbiting and friend group drama that goes with popularity. My friends were also weird, and we valued each other. I'm not saying we never had misunderstandings, but the level of drama I see my more popular nieces dealing with was never a thing for me.

I have always reacted to peer pressure by being contrarian. Yes, that meant I was mocked for years for wearing "virgin socks", that I refused to stop wearing specifically BECAUSE I was mocked, but it also meant that when the peer pressure to do anything on earth but study started to kick in, I did study. And nobody really expected me not to, because I already had that reputation.

In general, being contrarian meant people applied less peer pressure to me (as it was pointless), which removed a lot of obstacles in my young life.

When I became a professional engineer, my contrarian nature became a real strength. I do not find it difficult, in a group of people all thinking one way, to point out when I see a problem. I cannot overstate how valuable that is in engineering. You need to find the problems before they leave the office, and groupthink is the enemy.

I will go along to get along in unimportant things, I'm not abrasive for fun, but when it matters, you're going to hear about it. That absolutely has served me well, and that's not even mentioning the benefits of having an unusual style of thought when it comes to finding solutions to technical problems.

When I worked as a lecturer, again, I didn't conform to workplace norms I saw as stupid. I didn't take marking home. I didn't work unpaid overtime. I didn't accept extra hours on my timetable, or short hours being timetabled for a course (common in colleges, which are highly disorganised). I didn't do meetings at lunch, or lecture over breaks, or lecture right up to the hour.

I told managers when they were wrong and when things needed to change. Now, all this was combined with a respectful tone, diplomatic efforts and otherwise hard and proactive work, but I ended up with a reputation for being honest, hard-working and not being amenable to nonsense, which meant that my word carried weight. If I said something could or couldn't be done, people tended to believe it. It served me well.

Now, just being contrarian for the sake of it, as I was as a teen, doesn't necessarily get you anywhere in the long term, and being all edge and no point will not serve you well in life. People don't like it if you're an arse to them for no reason, and nor should they.

But if you cultivate a practice of being honest, reliable, hardworking, while also being uncompromisingly who you are in the face of pressure to conform, it absolutely will be a strength. It will put roadblocks in a lot of the popular roads in life, but it can also open up other roads that can take you to unexpected places.

I hope someone else who's a bit weird or contrarian, like me, can take comfort in this. Conformity is not the uncomplicated road to success that people often paint it as.

[lonelyroommp3]

idk if the correlation is actually there or just in my head, but this whole "shaming people for wanting to read smut" thing feels related to this notion that reading is something you do to get smarter and more cultivated, instead of being a hobby that you do for fun. Both of these interpretations of reading can coexist of course, but the discourse™ appears to frequently lose sight of the fact that to many ppl, reading is a leisure activity that brings them joy. And if they like to get turned on while reading something .... Good for them??? I do not consider myself a smut reader and I personally like to challenge myself with the books I read, but there absolutely are phases where I will NOT read a book unless it has romance or sex in it, because that is simply what i am in the mood for. The intense pushback against "smut readers" that frames them as a stain on the intellectual reputation of reading or whatever honestly makes me wonder if the people doing said shaming even have fun while reading. Which is hyperbolic of course but idk. the focus on the label "reader" and what it communicates has had negative impact on book discussions and reading culture online i fear.

no you're exactly right! i think people focus so much on this concept of being a Reader and of literature as this uniquely intellectual medium that they forget it's just that - a medium for telling stories that can be of absolutely any genre, style, content, medium, or level of intellectualism or seriousness. like it doesn't suddenly become this great inherently holy thing just because it's words on a page. like, whatever, i'm sure many of these people do enjoy reading because it's pretty difficult to force your way through some denser classics + literary fiction unless you're deriving some amount of pleasure from it, but i think they enjoy the sense of superiority they get from it just as much, if not even more lmao.

(also yeah i can't get behind this sort of, reader's version of the bygone hipster v fandom blogger war going on between "serious literature" and "smut readers", whether people in the latter category are going for spicy booktok hits or fanfiction on wattpad/ao3. like i don't think it's actually a problem whatsoever if somebody only wants to read smut but i also think presenting this weird false dichotomy helps precisely no one. when it comes to booktok romance i actually keep coming back to that classic designation of "beach reads" and the awareness that label has of some types of book filling a very specific and helpful niche for when you just want to read something feel good to turn your brain off, without that meaning that you're completely incapable of reading or unwilling to read anything deeper. like that's what a lot of booktok romance is. they're beach reads. they have an important function in the literary ecosystem.)