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brokenfoetus · 4 years

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...Real Talk for a Moment....

This is gonna be a long rant post, so by all means... quickly scroll past. Parts may even be a tad emo feels for some folks for one reason or another... There’s no shame in skipping for reals. A lot of days I can’t bother to read anything too in depth... anyway... HERE goes.... While I absolutely love art, and performance, and surreal awkward characterization of myself I call “THE END”. I also value truth, and being understood. My blog here started more as a journal for me to vent, and place to post music and art for me to look at in order to try and just relax during a very difficult point in my life. Every now and then I like to stop and ground myself and post in a sense about the actual me. There’s frankly not anything magical here, everyone has a story and their experiences and struggles we all do no matter who you are. I suppose like I said, I just like to be understood where I am coming from typically can only be slightly grasped like anyone. Even if you agree with views and relate to feelings, things become clearer with details.... hence my rants. I get it out of my system and state my perspectives all at once and anyone who happens to be curious gets to read it. Maybe gets to relate and frankly that tends to help us sometimes. It helps people realize they’re not alone in their situations. Anyway.... I was born a tiny premature gremlin on the east coast of the U.S. I was raised a devout Catholic boy. At age 11 I was diagnosed with the chronic illness Diabetes. when the symptoms started my mother called doctors concerned. We had to wait a full month for my appointment. It was rough. Some people don’t know of the disease, but most people generally are aware. It typically doesn’t seem all too dramatic to most since people think of it as old grandma and grandpa taking their pills and measuring their food. When you’re talking juvenile onset diabetes it’s different... severity can vary. but, I caught some sort of virus, with flu like symptoms... I was very very sick for a week or two. Once it passed, I was okay but slowly started feeling gross in other ways. By the time we got to see Doctors it was too late, and the damage done to my pancreas made it so it created pretty much no insulin. The only theory Doctors had at the time was the virus freaked out my auto-immune system so it made my body attack itself. It seemed that my white blood cells had attacked my pancreas. I was 11, so... I didn’t know what diabetes was. I asked my doctor if there was a cure, and he explained that there was no cure. My little boy brain after feeling so awful for a month and a half assumed I was going to die. I burst into tears as I was very very afraid. My Doctor quickly explained I wasn’t going to die like I had assumed and that it can be treated. It doesn’t seem so scary most the time when you realize it can be treated. The thing is the hormone insulin can be quite dangerous, as low blood sugars are actually very much more dangerous than high blood sugars. Insulin allows glucose in the blood to travel into cells to basically use as fuel. without it sugar levels rise in the blood stream, and the body starts rapidly breaking down fat cells to use as fuel. Now, that happens normal some anyway usually after eating. Just not rapidly.... when it does, the fuel it breaks down creates ketones which can make the blood toxic... by making it acidic.... Like I don’t really think... there’s any way I can describe what high blood sugar feels like... or what it feels like when your blood starts to become acidic.... I can’t... but... minor low blood sugar attacks can happen to anyone just by skipping lunch or forgetting to eat... and those suck... bad ones... well... they feel like you’re dying. Not to be melodramatic about it all... but that’s all I can say to explain it... it just feels like you’re dying. Probably because you sort of are..... The brain runs on glucose so when the levels get too low... your brain panics and tries to save itself and alert you. It’s not fun. It’s been many years since I had anything dangerous or serious in terms of low blood sugars but, a couple times in my life when I wasn’t doing very well emotionally and mentally I wasn’t paying attention or being careful with my insulin dosages and how much I was eating. I’ve had 3 grand mal seizures in my life when I was younger.... it’s hard to explain the experience... in mine... I don’t know.... It was like not existing at all, there was nothing. I woke to pain, I couldn’t see or hear it just hurt. Everything hurt head to toe. Then I could hear myself saying it hurt, then I could hear the people around me, and then I could see the people around me. Then I knew what had happened. I felt a bit guilty for scaring my loved ones so much. That honestly made me more upset than the pain. The reason I spell all this out... is my life has mostly been surrounded by fear. I’ve been aware of my mortality and trying to avoid dying on a daily basis since I was a very young boy. The strange thing I suppose.... is after a while... you just get sick of being afraid.... you kind of stop being scared and just get angry... I was a shy timid nervous little dude.... I’ve had long long times where... I’ve felt worthless, I’ve hated myself, felt I didn’t deserve happiness, or love. I’ve let people use me, without standing up for myself. I’ve let people be toxic and cruel, while excusing their behavior. While at the same time condemning myself for any tiny mistake I may have made in any way. I’ve made myself a martyr in personal relationships, sacrificing myself and my feelings. I’ve frankly... done a whole bunch of fucked up things turned inward. The nice thing I suppose, is I don’t do that anymore.... I still make mistakes, and I like to take responsibility for them and make amends or fix them. You can get used to some really fucked up things. Especially when struggling with self worth. I used to think I was useless and undeserving. Today... I’m well aware I’m a PRETTEH PRETTEH GOFF BOI.... I have long time close friends who love me just as much as I do them. I have a wonderful beautiful lovely lady who has my heart and soul whom I want to spend every moment I possibly can with until my bones are dust. Who helped me a great deal over the past couple years or so. Helped me with myself and helped me believe in myself again. Just by being my friend and supporting me while I continue to be the eccentric artist asshole I am. and I have Scrambles... THE MOST CUTEST BLACK KITTEH KAT EVAR. I feel rather lucky to have all I do. I appreciate what I have very very much. I’ve been dealing with Diabetes since I was 11... and had been dealing with Severe Major Depression symptoms since my early 20s. over the past five years I finally started getting help, Turns out I don’t just have diabetes.... I have adhd and some kind of sleep disorder. we’ve been calling it narcolepsy but it’s hard to say exactly, it could be hypersomnia which is a super fancy way of saying I’m fucking always exhausted 24/7 which is pretty accurate. That is usually caused by narcolepsy or something else but... who knows... still trying to figure that part out. I have discovered though that, being fucking exhausted non stop for 20 years will make you very depressed. Sometimes depression makes you tired, and sometimes being tired makes you depressed. When I was a young lad, I gave myself one single life goal.... That was to finish an electro industrial album and play some live shows. I dunno, to some that might not be a big deal.... I never said it had to be “good” after all. But, when I was at a low point dealing with my stuffs, trying to take care of myself... I honestly spent most my days sleeping. I was awake maybe 4 hours a day. Things felt very hopeless, that learned hopelessness made me believe things were pretty much pointless. I would shrug... and talk to my psychiatrist about my suffering in a manner that people talk about the weather. I didn’t even care anymore it was happening. It was “oh well... is what it is.” Until I got angry, it was a good thing I was so frustrated.... because it meant I finally gave a shit again. I wanted to get better and I wanted it to hurry the fuck up. Anyway... I’m just rambling and ranting because I was thinking back a lot after doing a sleep study... probably the first in a series of them. I don’t have apnea so I mean... that’s good. I also got to see what some of my brainwaves look like... I also apparently wake up after dreaming some a lot... I also apparently yelled in the middle of the night hahaha. So back to the whole life goal thing.....my long time friend, who introduced me to shitloads of music and bands and has always been close through good and bad times. Was saying how he knew it was something I’ve always wanted to do, so he wants to help me. He’s starting to help me plan the performance and then later will help me setup my shows and come with me to what will be really awkward and silly first couple gigs I play. An open mic night will be particularly hilarious to me, since instead of hearing shitty rock song covers, it will be an insane goth punk dude screaming distorted vocals to weird electro noises haha. It’s taken a long time to get shit finally going... but... it’s getting there... it’s still going to take a lot more work... on both me and the music. I have countless things I have to do, but I’m just happy I finally got angry enough to scream fuck it... and go for it... I love a lot of various kinds of work. I don’t really fit there very well though. Now that the sleep disorder stuff has become worse over time... it’s not really possible anyway. That’s okay though, since now I’m just doing what I’m actually good at. Eccentric artist asshole has always been my key features. xD So, here’s some photos of me before and during my sleep lab and random enjoyable crap I suppose... and my general mood. It’s been a while.... -The End-

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#Me #Personal #Random #Pointless #Update #THE END

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lovetvshowsposts · 5 years

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A Variro Story CH 1

Description: Varian (Tangled the Series) is a transfer from Germany and new to San Fransokyo and the Institute of Technology and the second 14-year-old to be inducted in the school. He tries to keep things under control, so people won’t find out his secret. Hiro can handle being a student and hero but now with these unknown feelings and them being toward the new guy he doesn’t quite know what to do. (I swear the story is better than the description) AU (Hiro X Varian=Variro)

This story is based off of Tumblr user @sinningcookie ship of Hiro and Varian (Variro). Be sure to check out the art that has been done of these two it’s amazing. If I was good at drawing, I would have made a Variro comic but here is the story of how the two meet, become boyfriends and each other’s heroes. Complete AU from both of the series but they are represented in ways throughout this story.

Beep beep! Beep beep!

Eyes open slowly at the sound of an annoying noise as it continues to sound. Until they land upon the source. The clock says 7:45AM making the eyes shoot right open. “Ah no, I’m going to be late!!” shouts Hiro as he jumps out of bed grabbing papers and cloths as he looks for his backpack. He finds it hanging on his chair and starts to stuff everything into it, which makes the chair roll right onto his foot. “Ow!” He hops backwards to his bed holding his foot.

The beeping from the other side of the room drew his attention. Baymax opens his eyes to see all of Hiro’s room and the state he was in. He steps out of his charging port and goes to Hiro. “Hiro on a scale of one to ten how would you rate your pain?” he proceeds to show the chart on his chest.

“I don’t have time Baymax, I’m late!! Hiro quickly gets up and starts to get dressed. “Why didn’t you wake me up, anyway? The emergency alarm had to wake me.”

“The average amount of sleep the human body needs is eight hours. You went to bed at two AM by my calculations you need another two hours to function properly.”

“I know Baymax, but I have papers, projects and classes that need to be done.” Hiro argues as he finishes tying his shoe, he gets up and sprints for the stairs. As he was about to leave, Hiro remembers to grab his bag and Baymax in tow.

The Lucky Cat Café was as busy as usual for a Monday morning. All the tables were packed as Aunt Cass tries to cut time by loading up a tray full of coffees and pastries. She walks past the doorway that leads to their upstairs living quarters.

Hiro comes out of nowhere, yelling “Bye Aunt Cass. Sorry no hugs, I’m late.” Running right by his aunt who is able to dodge him, but once Baymax bumps into her she begins to fall, just taking the tray with her, until a helpful hand saves the both of them.

“Woah that would have been a disaster. Are you ok?” a feminine voiced stranger says as she helps pick up the tray and Aunt Cass.

“Yeah I’m fine but when you have a nephew; somethings can go crazy. Ah thank you…” Aunt Cass looks to the young lady that was in front of her as she is helped up. She wore black boots that led to grey skinny jeans. They were held with a brown belt with the most peculiar belt buckle; a circle with three lines on it. As she is still being lifted Cass see a maroon shirt that was tucked in and a black leather jacket covering the rest of the stranger. Cass’s finally helped all the way up get the reveal of the stranger’s face seeing pale skin, dark pink lips, hazel eyes and raven hair that is in a bob-cut of layers with grey highlights. Which Aunt Cass thought had to be the girl’s choice of dying it because the stranger seems to be the age of 23. And that much grey hair on her did not seem natural.

The stranger finally offers her name. “Cassandra, and I kind of am going to be going through the same thing as I watch my friends’ kid.” Cassandra fully gives control to the tray back to Aunt Cass, as she walks to drop off coffee and pastries at tables.

“Ah, are you new here? I haven’t seen you around.” Cass asks as Cassandra follows her.

“No, I’ve lived here for a while and have heard about your place. But I’m just not really a coffee person.”

Cass asks bewildered “Then what brings you in?” as she sets the last pastry down.

“You evidently have a tea other places don’t carry that helps my friend’s kid calm down. With it being his first day at a new school, he’s a bit nerves so…” Cassandra was cut off by a long car honk that came from outside.

“Speak of the devil. That’s him now, can I get a large?”

“Say no more; I’m on it.” Aunt Cass proceeds to make the tea as quickly as she could.

“Alright, Baymax, I’ll be back after classes. The others might drop by throughout the day. See ya!! Hiro says as he closes the door to Tadashi’s lab and runs to Professor Granville’s class. He makes it through the door before he could be marked late.

“You; barley made it, Mr. Hamada. Note; being punctual will help you be able to keep a job in the future, even if you are working for yourself.” Professor Granville states as she pulls her lecture up on to the screen.

Hiro lets out a relived breath as he walks to his seat. He pulls out his notebook and pencil for the lecture. The class was going normally until almost the end of class. There was a knock at the classroom door. Everyone looks to Professor Granville. She looks to the door window.

“Ah yes, come on in Mr. Müller.” The whole class had their eyes on the door as it slowly opens. A young boy walks to Professor Granville. Hiro too, stares as the guy walks by. Noting of what he could see, the student wore many layers of baggy clothes all consisting of teal and black.

A teal beanie sat on his shaggy black hair. His bangs covered a majority of his face. But one strand stood out because it was blue. He held a few notebooks in one hand against his chest and a plastic cup in the other. Hiro took a closer look to see the logo. It was from the Lucky Cat Café. Hiro’s scrutinizing gaze was broken when Granville spoke; “Now class, I don’t normally introduce new students, but this is Varian Müller a 14-year-old transfer from Germany. As you can see, he doesn’t quite know campus so if one of you could show him around?” She looks around the room to see if anyone will volunteer. Instead of volunteering everyone starts whispering.

Hiro looks around making out some of the whispering conversations that were: “He’s young.” “Is his look a fashion statement?” “Why did he transfer?” “What’s his major.” He then looks back to Varian to sees the guy was shrinking in on himself and the cups contents he was holdings was swishing around a bit. Hiro noted probably from being nervous.

Just as Professor Granville was about to speak a happy go lucky “I’ll do it!” came from Hiro’s right. He looked over to see Karmi the 18-year-old bio-tech prodigy. She was all to giddy to be the guide this new kid. No doubt to find out what he studies, or he must be new competition for her. Hiro thought as he watches her head to the front of the room.

“Thank you Karmi. Alright class that is all for today’s lesson don’t forget to do pages nine though thirteen of your textbooks.” Granville states as class is dismissed.

“Argh; finally; the hard part of my day is over!!” Hiro reports as he enters the lab hands full of his textbooks and new project parts. He sets them down on the closest table knocking some other papers and blueprints over to the already messy floor. He wipes his forehead with his jacket sleeve as he looks around the room seeing Fred laying upside down on a chair reading a comic as Baymaxs watches.

All of a sudden Fred pops up saying “Hey! What about this; could a person survive a blast of magma from there hands?” asks Fred excitedly.

“The probability of magma emanating from a person’s hands is nonexistent they would suffer from third degree burns from the surrounding tissue and…”

Baymax was cut off when Wasabi, Honey Lemon and Gogo all barged into the lab. “Did you hear about the new guy!” Squeals Honey Lemon. “I heard he was too smart for his old school so that why he’s here.”

“Yeah this kid’s got a so many awards he’s probably going to win all the ones here.” Wasabi chimes in.”

“I heard he is an alien from the planet Malgo an here to suck out our brains!” Fred says enthusiastically as he walks over to Gogo trying to scary her.

“No.” Voices Gogo as she stops him from getting closer by putting her hand on his chest.

“Freddy were you feeling left out because you don’t know what we’re talking about?” implies Honey Lemon.

“Yes; No; Maybe?” Fred shrinks down after each word knowing his guess were way off. Which made everyone silent until Gogo announces “I just heard he was from Germany.”

“Wait you guys are talking about the transfer uh Varian…uh…Varian Miller.”

“It’s pronounced Mueller since he’s from Germany Hiro.” Politely corrects Honey Lemon.

“Whatever he’s Karmi’s new competition so I don’t care what his name is.” Hiro starts to dig through a box of parts to get started on a project.

“Oh, so you didn’t hear?” States Gogo as she crosses her arms.

“Hear what?” Hiro looks to his friends in confusion while he was still digging. Fred shrugs because he is just as much in the dark as he is.

“Karmi released a whole report about this kid. Its on the schools blog.” Wasabi pulls out his phone and shows Hiro. The screen shows a quick snapshot of the kid trying to block the camera with his fingerless gloved hands. With the title New Prodigy Hits Campus! Before he could read anymore Wasabi took it away saying. “It says the kid went to Berlin’s Institute of Technology our number one competitor. He’s won all sorts of awards. Until a mysteries accident caused half the school to be decommissioned. He’s now here to continue his studies.”

“Did he actually tell Karmi this?” Hiro asks as he pulls out the tool he was looking for.

“I don’t think so. I saw Karmi in the library on the computer.” Gogo says as she blows a bubble from her gum. Hiro walks over to some parts that he has on a table and starts his project.

“What I’m shocked is he’s majoring in Chemical Engineering and Robotics. Two majors is suicide at this school!”

As soon as the word Robotics left Honey Lemons mouth, he froze. “What is he majoring?”

She repeats herself “Chemical Engineering and Robotics.”

“Ha looks like you finally have some competition man.” Fred blurts out. They all start to continue to talk about the new guy which seems to just fade to a hum to Hiro as things were swimming around his mind. He puts his tools down and walks to the door. “I’m going to go get some gummy bears I’ll be right back.” If his face gave away sign of irritation his friends didn’t see it as they said see ya and went back to their conversation. But Baymax knew and he follows Hiro.

“Hiro my scans indicate that you are slightly irritated. What is irritating you?” Baymax asks.

“Nothing buddy just got a lot on my mind.” He says subdued until he states, “But not as much as that new guy I bet he won’t be able to last a week handling such difficult classes.” Brightening his spirits as he walks to the vending machine.

Two Weeks Later…

“Man did you hear Varian made a…”

“That kid is smarter than anyone here.”

“Varian just combined a …”

“Varian”

“Aaaaaa” Shouts Hiro as he slams his head on the table. “Make it stop!” he muffles.

“Hey, did you hear…” Fred asks till he is cut off by Hiro.

“YES, I heard he made a unstoppable robot, he is smarter than anyone else here, I even heard that he is the cutest one here. And I’m here to say; I have had enough. I’m going to challenge him to show this nerd school who is the true prodigy of SFIT!” Hiro stomps out of the lab Baymax following behind him.

“I was just going to say they had free tacos at the cafeteria.” Fred announces to an empty lab as he takes a bite out of one of his tacos.

#big hero 6 #big hero six #hiro hamada #hiro #tangled the series #varian #crossover #big hero 6 the series

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marias-studyblr · 5 years

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hey mariaaaaa!! i love your blog! recently i’ve been struggling with my fear of failure/success which is preventing me from reaching for my goals. I overthink EVERYTHING which isn’t helping me in studies to my personal life. do you have any tips?

hellooooo!! 🌹💕 thank you so much i really appreciate it. 😊🌸

🐇 about fear of failure/success

I really relate to your message. when I’m dealing with the same concerns, this is what I do:

imagining i do fail. imagining everything goes the other way around. what would i do then? and i know this might seem unnecessary but it forces me into a rational mindset instead of a very emotional one. if I fail, what will my next step be? much of the fear we feel comes from not knowing what will happen, what we’ll do if the eventuality does come.

it serves us good to think about our future even in the prospect of failure. and also for us to understand that even if things don’t go right, we have a path too. planning and organization are what we need in times of stress and fear, to keep us grounded, to get us focused on our work habits and not so much on the end goal. take away some of the importance of the goal, to relieve some of the pressure that is suffocating you.

secondly, sometimes we make situations bigger than they actually are, especially when it comes to grades because it feels like it’s all people in a school environment care about, making us fear something that isn’t actually real. it’s not a life or death situation even if it may feel like it, and once again, there are so many paths to your future success that even if school throws you a curve ball, it is nothing that stops you from being successful in the future. nothing at all.

knowing what step to take next is really important to feel less afraid of a result. and it’s also important to know that you’re not being threatened in any way: that it’s just a grade and the fear you’re feeling can be somehow dissolved if you think about how small this event is compared to the big picture of your life. what am I afraid of exactly?

the other thing I want to say is that no matter if we win or lose, in whatever situation, it’s important to be able to accept the circumstances of our lives that brought us to that moment and deal with our decisions and choices in the past. even if the thing that we chose to do was incredibly stupid in retrospective, we need to respect our past self.

I’ve had unfair things happen to me and I’ve made many stupid decisions in my past, but with persistence, I ended up alright and happy. and today, I am so proud of all the things that I did to better my situation and get to where I am today.

so, I believe that no matter what difficulties come our way, even if they hurt us or we were unprepared for them, or at the time we didn’t know how to react properly, both in our academic lives and in our personal lives, if we persist with hard work and determination, we will be able to reach a happier place in the future, even if we never had thought of it.

so with that in mind, it’s a lot easier for me to face stressful situations in school. the initial stress and fear are always going to come, but I can overcome it a lot more easily because (1) I know looking back at my past that even if things don’t go my way I can always find a better path and (2) it’s not half as much of a big deal than my anxiety is making it to be in my head. I can always look around and find the things that actually matter in my life.

🐇 about overthinking

I also used to overthink every little thing I said or did, so I REALLY understand you. I was always really shy throughout middle school and high school, even though I’ve always had strong opinions and with my family & close friends, I was not shy at all.

it came to a point it really stopped me from doing everyday normal things and thinking anything positive about myself. for those who don’t know what this is like, it might be a little difficult to understand how this could impact our daily lives… it’s kind of having anxiety about everything involving your person, especially social interactions. cringing over and over again from the tiniest things that happened months ago, dreading the way you talk and look, not being able to let go of mistakes, fearing talking to acquaintances/strangers, being completely destroyed by criticism, and constantly beating yourself up from the largest to the smallest things in your life. it really makes you feel isolated and lower your confidence.

only recently I started respecting myself enough and I am glad that with time I was able to become stronger. so the first thing I want to say is to be patient with yourself. trust with time, you’ll become wiser. I think it’s more of a mindset shift than anything else, and that comes with becoming wiser. you do evolve with time, which is great news! 😊 I can’t believe how far I’ve come in terms of my confidence in just a few years.

I think the cause of overthinking everything is probably some sort of emotional shock or abuse. I have an idea where mine could have come from. reflect on your childhood, middle school, even though it might stir up some emotions. the point is to understand that you don’t “just have a shy personality” or it’s not “just the way you were born” and give yourself some closure. let yourself know if you’ve been through tough stuff in your childhood, it’s ok, you’ve made it, and it doesn’t define who you are. there is always space for improvement. it doesn’t mean you’ll never be able to talk well in public, interact with strangers. I truly believe with practice anything is possible, so be patient with yourself and keep practicing your social interactions, learning how you can improve your social skills and correcting your mindset whenever you catch yourself beating yourself up.

one mistake that I found to be more pertinent in this aspect of my mental health was thinking everyone else was so much better than me. everyone else was always right and I should try to be like them! why can’t this person like me? what should I change about myself in order for them to begin liking me?

I had such a toxic mindset it really took a heavy toll on everything in my life really, and it was very degrading and tiresome to constantly be finding non-existing flaws and comparing myself to everyone around me. the answer is simple (and what I wish I could tell my younger self): focus on yourself and not people around you… everyone comes in different shapes and forms, we all have different personalities, we come from different backgrounds. we don’t owe our lives to anyone, not your teachers, not your friends, not your classmates, not even your parents. we should rejoice in our individuality, we should feel confident in our skin. it’s YOUR skin, not the other person’s skin, it’s YOUR brain, not someone else’s.

each one of us is simply trying to make it through - everyone’s equally clueless about their lives. they are lying to you if they say otherwise. and everyone’s too focused on their mistakes to truly care about your own.

once I figured that out, things really started looking up.

slowly, I started overthinking less and less, I was much more confident. there needs to be a clear resolution in your head: you are NOT less than others. your work may not be the best but it is ENOUGH and GOOD. and “good” in the meaning of kind. kind to yourself, kind to others. and that’s where I stem my confidence from. I am good and I am enough, I have meaning and purpose.

and it really drove me to have a happy mindset, because I can do good, to myself and to others, and I will continue to work hard no matter what comes my way. I have so much in my life to be grateful for!! those things, to me, are what makes a happy life.

I was more open about who I was, gave more importance to the people who accept, love me, cherished the small (big) things that make my life good and comfortable, and less to the things that don’t actually matter in the big picture.

overthinking your everyday life to the point of self-deprecation will stop you from actually enjoying it! even if I get a bad grade, even if I have an awkward interaction, even if something difficult is going on in one of my classes, at the end of the day, no one’s died you know? I still have food and a roof over my head, my loved ones to love, my integrity and physical state. I will do better next time, and that’s that. I don’t want to reach my 60′s to start giving importance to the things that actually matter, I want to give importance to them now, while I can still cherish them.

🐇 more practical things to do

don’t isolate yourself. especially in times of fear and stress. being around people who love you will make you feel grounded. and when you are loved and respected in your close community, it will encourage you to accept yourself as well! when we are suffering, it’s easy to close ourselves and not talk about it, but being open about your struggles is exactly what will help you the most to overcome them. so talk to your closest people, eat with them, text them. let them know how you are feeling and let them support you, they will want to.

meditate and do yoga. this practice brings me a lot of serenity and peace and encourages quiet time, away from distractions. to be alone in a way that is not harmful. and from there, grow the roots to a healthy relationship with yourself. I especially recommend Yoga with Adriene, she was the one who really taught me the way of looking after myself, respecting myself as a whole.

watch ted talks! there are really good ones about public speaking, self-confidence, gratefulness, mindfulness! look them up, it really made a huge difference for me.

journal, write, keep a diary, draw, sing, express yourself. through some tough moments of my life, writing about my feelings in a very private way, appreciating art that I felt related to me, was important to understand what I was feeling, what was happening, cope with it and try to find a way around.

so, I hope all this made sense and helped even a little…!

I’ll repeat my first piece of advice: be patient with yourself. small changes in our mindset every day lead to big changes over the course of a year or two. overthinking about small things in our life will soon start to look pretty useless to you. :- )

YOU GOT THIS I believe in you 100%

you are doing better than you think.

⭐💛 thank you for your message, may it help others too who are going through the same 💖 let’s live our best lives please, unashamed, unapologetic!

#answered #mental health

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comeondowntosouthparkrpg-blog · 5 years

Text

Rebecca Cotswolds

Is she gonna kiss Kyle again? Rebecca has been accepted! Send your blog to the main ASAP.

out of character info

Name/Alias: Alice

Pronouns: She/Her

Age: 18

Join Our Discord: I’m already there

Timezone: Central

Activity: 9

Triggers: N/A

Password: jimmy can fast pass my ass

Character that you’re applying for: Rebecca Cotswolds

Favourite ships for your character: HMU

in character info

Full name: Rebecca Ruth Cotswolds

Birthday: January 17th

Sexuality, gender, pronouns: She’s not sure about her sexuality, she’s a female and goes by she/her pronouns.

Age and grade: 18, Senior

Appearance:

Rebecca has shoulder length, curly brown hair that she often keeps back with clips or bobby pins. Although she does put her hair up in a messy bun occasionally. She has pale freckles that dust her cheeks and arms. She has pale skin that betrays her nature of not going outside in favor of studying. She has deep brown eyes. Rebecca stands approximately five foot and weighs a healthy 94 pounds. She’s rather partial to flowers or other nature clips in her hair or accessories.

As for fashion, you could commonly see her in lace or some kind of sundress. She prefers neutral colors that compliment her dark hair and light skin. Colors such as white, pink, or pale purple. She loves to hang out in her black ballet flats. She wears fairly natural makeup, except for her lips which she prefers to do a red shade. If she’s feeling it, she can do her eyes darker as well. Her fashion wouldn’t look out of place at a garden photo shoot. Since her big episode whenever she was like, eight, She largely dropped the revealing clothing. Except whenever she really feels like rebelling.

Personality:

Rebecca has grown a lot since her time as a third grader in South Park High School. Her parents took her right out of public school until middle school, so her growth definitely stagnated. They kept her sheltered, so this has a direct result on her personality as a high schooler. Growing up in a conservative mountain town under the watchful eye of her mother and father left her with very little experience regarding things such as sexual endeavors or even how a girl her age is to supposed to act. She’s still very innocent in that regards, and that inherent innocence seeps down to her core. She’s definitely kind, willing to donate to whatever charity or organization needs her help. However, there is a darker side to her that’s even more deeply rooted than her innocent and kind nature. She has a defiant streak in her, that expresses herself in weird ways. She fantasizes about intense emotions, good or bad, that she could one day feel. She’s fascinated with her inherent desires that she was trained to suppress all her life, which drives her to do the extreme on occasion.

She’s a compassionate individual, despite having not really deep emotions at all and her yearning to feel them. She does find herself feeling compassion for others situation or those in need. Never let it be said that Rebecca isn’t intelligent, she’s very intelligent. Still harboring her desire to become a brain surgeon, and she focuses a lot on her studies. A thirst for knowledge leads her to be extremely curious for the world around her, yearning to know all its secrets and feel all its emotions. Deeply, she’s in resentment towards her sheltered life and wants to experience the world and gain an independence she never had. In her, she harbors a deep sadness within her at her current situation and the way her knowledge intake is stagnated by her fanatic parents. Rebecca, in a small aspect, still wants to remain a sheltered child and a subconscious part of her that’s been indoctorined into her still wants to uphold her parents and be willfully arrogant.

In short, she’s a confused child who is trying to find her place in the big world.

History:

Rebecca was born on January 17th to two loving parents. A deeply Christian household, they took a fundamentalist approach in her and her brother’s upbringing. From a young age, she was not allowed to watch TV except for documentaries or Bible specials. She was homeschooled for the majority of her young childhood, and often had nothing to do except for play board games with her brother or parents, study, or wander in the very extensive garden. Her mind carried beyond the fence borders, yearning to see the world. Her chance came with the spelling bee. After the antics of ‘Hooked on Monkey Phonics’, she was pulled out of public school, unlike her brother who got to remain. She was homeschooled, and her parents drilled into her what she was doing was wrong, even though they never explained to her why it was wrong leaving her incredibly confused and hurt. So began her struggle on why something so bad could feel so good.

Just before fifth grade, she approached her parents and begged them to let her attend public school again. At first they vehemently denied her, but she remained relentless and with help from her brother managed to convince her parents to enroll her in the local public middle school. Instantly, she was overwhelmed and felt like an outsider. Still, she refused to allow herself to be sunk. She slowly became more and more confused as time went on. She knew she couldn’t bring it up with her parents or else they would just pull her out again. She was also forbidden to study anything regarding sexual practices or drugs. This was out of the paranoia of her parents that she would end up as some bitch of a pimp. So throughout middle school she remained by choice willfully ignorant, although a growing desire and yearning was filling her.

Rebecca in high school is no less confused than she has been all these years, however a budding resentment was starting to brew at her parents for refusing to explain what her urges are and why exactly they are so bad. She began fantasizing about feeling something deep. Anything. Pain, sadness, ecstasy, true anger, she isn’t allowed to feel any of that and was denied it so often as a child she’s definitely more twisted inside. Come senior year, her full self as she knows herself now has formed. Innocent, knowledge hungry, compassionate, and fucked up in a way that could only be faulted by her parents.

Sample paragraph:

As another day dwindles to a close, the brown haired girl walked slowly through the garden. Taking in the flowers and the colorful shrubs that were so intricately chosen. Her black flats subtly jumped from one stone to the next, her dress fluttering in the wind. She was in deep, meditative thought. About everything and nothing. She could spend hours roaming the gardens and never come across the same thought twice. She was largely introspective, because where else would they go? Her brother certainly did not understand her desires or confusions, and her parents were out of the question. In fact, any minute she would be called inside for dinner. The routine would follow with her and her brother cleaning the kitchen, before the gathered around the fireplace for their nightly scripture reading, until the grandfather clock dinged 10 and it was time for her to bed. She allowed a sigh to escape her red tinted lips, a surge of sadness coming at thought of that routine. Something she should find comfort in gives her none. She couldn’t help but think she would find comfort in something much more dark.

Rebecca paused, coming to a little hole in the fence. She stepped off the cobblestone path, and pushed aside the vines that artfully grew on the fence. Her parents called it art, she called it prison bars. She peeks outside of the hole, seeing the town mall. She had been to the mall on occasion, but her mother preferred to have her clothes custom made by a family friend. She tucked a stray strand of brown hair behind her ear before carefully setting the vines back in place before continuing her garden stroll. She looked down, there was some moss growing in between the stones, and she looked to a bed of daises, her favorite. She tutted softly, seeing the weeds. She would have to weed the bed tomorrow. Of course, with summer closer than ever she would have hours upon hours of time to do whatever she wanted. In the borders of the bubble they forced her in, of course. Instead of sadness, there was anger. And she didn’t find herself pushing it down.

Still slightly stewing, she took a seat on the white wicker bench they had that looked like a scene straight out or Romeo and Juliet. She looked to her side seeing Lillies. Beautiful, pure, innocent flowers. She reached out a hand and began stroking the petal. “How lonely you are,” Rebecca said quietly in her mezzo soprano voice. “I daresay you haven’t had the pleasure of seeing the world. Your roots are planted here, after all.” Rebecca said, gazing at the flower with eyes filled to the brim with longing. “And even then, what is in the world except for dirty boots and rotten people to pull out your petals or crush your stem.” Rebecca said, knowing full well what she was saying. “Still though, you want to go? Yes, pain could possibly be therapeutic. Or is that what you’ve read in storybooks? What is reality?” The flower said nothing, it could not hear nor speak. That suited Rebecca fine. She sighed softly. “You won’t be finding out will you?”

No sooner did the words escape her lips, she heard the call of her father. She looked over her shoulder, before she got the inexplicable urge to lay her lips lightly on the flower, before walking softly and quickly away, to wash up for dinner.

Headcanons:

-Isn’t in the top ten, but the top fifteen taking the 13th spot.

-She’s still an incredibly good speller.

-Is going to Norte Dam University. She wants to pursue neuroscience.

-Finds herself fascinated with documentaries regarding death.

-Plays the flute

-Her voice is definitely on the lower side for a teenage girl.

-Has undiagnosed anxiety

-She helps her mother with their extremely beautiful garden.

-Has a diary, it is the only place she lets out her frustrations.

Anything else: N/A

#accepted #submission

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keebzcoolmailbox · 5 years

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hi im mun pink and im gonna ramble about this funky au keebz and shu-chan is in

tfw this au and an oc is all you’ve been thinking about that you have to write it down in words :)))

part 1 of ??? - intro to the au and going into angie’s and kaede’s story

Okay! I’m deciding to call this the Flipped!AU. Why? I’ll tell ya why! All of the NDRV3 characters (except ONE theywhowillnotbenamed >:( ) have this fabricated backstory, right? Well, what if A) this was the character’s actual backstories and B) in some point of this backstory something changed that caused them to go to a whole different career path. A... flip of a switch so to say... Heh, heh, heh.

I ain’t gonna talk about the two characters on this blog cause their backstories and what makes them different from their OG counterparts is something that ya’ll gotta ask yourself. So, I’ll just stick to characters that probably aren’t going to show up on this blog.

Probably.

Being the person who watched someone online play NDRV3, I really don’t know as much as other people! So, what is a girl to do? She looks in the Wiki. Looking into the DR Wiki for that good old fabricated past lore brought some interesting things up. Things like that fact that Angie’s home island has plants that are known to attack people. Um, WHAT?

I never knew that, and I feel like those goddamn plants need to be in the spotlight! So, let’s weave them into Angie’s backstory, eh? But hooooow? Well, Atua is really important to Angie, so let’s rip Him away from her via the power of attacking plants!

In the Flipped!AU, lil’ Angie, the prophet of the island god Atua, is attacked by one of these plants and forgets EVERYTHING. Her name, her status, and the main man Atua Himself! The islanders see this as Atua rejecting Angie and shun her to the wild jungle because if their God doesn’t see her as suitable then why should they?

Now Angie is like less than ten years old in this wild ass jungle. Kind of a big yikes. Don’t worry, she totes survives. And with that survival comes the total hatred. People who she doesn’t even remember just discard her like just because their stupid (every time she disgraces Atua, she flinches but she doesn’t really understand why) god said so? Fuck them, and FUCK THOSE PLANTS.

Yea, that’s right. She hates those things, especially now she’s in the jungle where they live. It was because of those plants that she’s in this mess! Grrrr!! And with hatred comes the desire to wipe them off of the planet! She sets up a hut and via her childhood friend who tries to help she studies her little brain off to eradicate these plants. But it’s hard to do when these things when the plants you're dealing with might not even be plants, so hell why not study all the plants and how to kill them to see if something works.

Studying all the plants? Whoop, whoop, we got ourselves a SHSL Botanist! After using her friend to send a letter to a scientific journal about a correction, Hope’s Peak Academy sends her a letter and a free ride to their academy (because killing games don’t exist in this universe. a weird little game about them does tho OWO). Boom! This feral botanist is on her way to becoming a true Ultimate!

If I were to make a sprite edit for her character (which isn’t saying a lot because I don’t change their clothes at all sksksk), then I’d just dirty the swim top, make her jacket white, exchange the paintbrushes for vials, and make all the clothes look like its been through a tornado. Oh and have her hair more shaggy and long as she really wasn’t able to get proper hair cuts (if I could even achieve that with my basic sprite edit skillz)! I’m not sure what else though. Tbh, I’m more of a backstory person than a costume design person.

Personality wise, she’d be insanely bitter with some serious walls around her heart. But at the same time, she just wants human connection so she does a total Gundham and makes excuses for a classmate to be “useful” and be around her. Standing next to a person (god forbid someone she finds slightly attractive) gives her a high, I swear. Her speech would be blunt and short to the point with a possible stutter because I’d imagine an incident that gave her amnesia might mess with some language things.

Hgggggh, god it feels so good to put this on paper! Or online text? I don’t know. You know what doesn’t feel good? Me, Mr. Stark. Not doing the thing you love to do! Bad segways are bad, but Kaede’s situation isn’t that good too.

Lemme read you something straight from the wiki. “Since she was a child, Kaede has been playing the piano so much so that she would forget to eat and sleep at times.” Forgetting to eat and sleep. Forgetting to eat and sleep. Hmmm, I can use that!

I like when there are consequences for actions, and this time the action is that Kaede goes too far. She really immerses herself in the piano and gets hospitalized as a result. This has been like the fifth time this has happened, so the doctor says NO MORE PIANO.

Did you hear that?

That’s the sound of 9-year-old Kaede Akamatsu’s heart breaking.

Kaede feels empty without her beloved piano. It’s been her whole life up into this point, so she tries to fill that void. A little bit of art? How about some writing? Gardening? Cooking? Building? Studying? Acting? She does it all. And, honestly, she’s only decent at all of the skills above and she still feels as empty as ever.

Apparently, that’s enough for Hope’s Peak Academy as they invited the supposed girl who can do everything. And thus, the SHSL Jack of All Trades came to the school. Or maybe something shorter. Eh, I’ll figure it out.

Sprite edit would be to make her clothes into dull tones. Erase every reference of music and piano if possible. If not maybe draw x’s over these? Anyway, in place of these have a bunch of badges all over her clothes, one for each talent she’s half-assed in. Lowkey just realized her talent is the shitty version of Izuru’s sjafksdflkj

Like her clothes, her personality would be like her OG self if some pulled back on the reins a lot. Dull, bland. Not very fun to be around tbh. However, being in Hope’s Peak and away from parental supervision would probably make her personality slowly (and I mean slowly it’d be pretty unrealistic if she snaps back to her ndrv3 self immediately) go back to original, especially when her class surprises her with a cheap piano from the Japanese equivalent of Craigslist. She’d cry so much seeing that thing.

tldr; Different backstories make for this Flipped!AU. Angie is feral and angry SHSL Botanist, and Kaede is a piano-less and empty (but slowly recovering) SHSL Jack of All Trades.

Okay that’s it for the rambling. It’s like midnight, and I have to be up at 7:00! If you got to this point without relying on the tldr, thank you for reading!!! Ahhh, it makes me feel fuzzy that someone was willing to read all of my verbal vomit. Maybe one day I’ll make an addition to this idk! Have a good day!

#mun speaks #more like mun rambles amirite #ive just #hhhhh #i cant stop thinking about this au! and my oc david #like #its bad because i'll be working and my brain is like hmmm korekiyo backstory???#and im like brain im trying to make sure these people dont drown on my watch #you foolish brain #if you ask questions about this au i will cry #not really but i will be really fucnkin happy

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swimintothesound · 7 years

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Female-Fronted 2017: A Guide to This Year’s Best Music Made By Women

2017 has been regressive in more ways than I can count. Despite an oppressive political landscape and a constantly-overwhelming news cycle, it’s also been heartening to watch people band together in the face of bigotry, and hatred.

This feeling of resistance has also bled over into art. We’ve finally got a legitimately great female-led superhero movie as well as multiple strong female-centered TV shows (Orange, Veep, Kimmy Schmidt, The Mindy Project, Broad City, Take My Wife). More germane to this blog; the same shift can also be felt in this year’s music. Alongside 2017’s many excellent female-fronted albums, this past month Cardi B become the first solo female rap artist to top the Billboard charts since 1998. Whether it’s a movement or just a sign of the times, we’re witnessing an undeniable change in our culture.

Chalk it up to the political climate, toxic masculinity, or whatever term you prefer; lately I’ve been feeling “over” hyper-masculine music. Maybe it’s a byproduct of a free TIDAL subscription or seeing 20+ concerts in 12 months, but this year I’ve been exposed to a wider variety of music than ever before. Projecting myself onto machismo music has carried me far in life, and that type of music still has a place in my heart (and my iPod), but it’s been connecting with me less and less as time goes on.

I’ve also gotten away from this testosterone-fueled perspective because the alternatives feel infinitely more refreshing than an imitation of something I’ve heard a dozen times before. Even within typically-masculine genres like hip-hop, we now have people like Young Thug and Kevin Abstract who are slowly (but actively) dismantling long-entrenched negative tropes of the scene. This year I’ve found solace and comfort in these unique takes on the human perspective.

Serendipitously, 2017 also happens to be an incredible year for women in music. From vibrant radio bops to hazy bedroom indie, we’ve seen an absolute barrage of impeccable releases this year from female artists. So I wanted to highlight some of the projects that I’ve found myself coming back over and over again. These artists are making some of the freshest, most unique, and lived-in records of recent memory, so let’s take a moment to celebrate these creators and make a toast to new perspectives in art.

Julien Baker

Funnily enough, one of my favorite discoveries of 2017 turned out to be an album from 2015. I’ve already detailed my affection for Julen Baker’s Sprained Ankle in this loving write-up from earlier in the year, but in short, I’m embarrassed that it took me this long to discover it. Baker’s debut record has been lingering with me all year like a specter. I’ve read interviews, watched live performances, and my Julien Baker-related obsession will likely peak when I see her live this December.

Julien Baker has already had an eventful 2017 as she signed to Matador Records, released a haunting 7-inch, and is currently revving up to drop her Sprained Ankle follow-up Turn Out the Lights. I’m willing to admit her music has now fallen into utterly un-objective fandom territory for me, but even the three songs she’s released this year have been spectacular, and I’m fully expecting her album to worm its way onto my end-of-the-year list. Baker’s brand of somber folky slowcore has a way of hooking directly into my brain and violently wrenching on my heartstrings. I’ve already got my tissues stockpiled for her upcoming October 27th release, and I fully expect to cry in public at her concert in December.

Angel Olsen

This November singer/songwriter/guitarist Angel Olsen is treating us to a career-spanning album of loosies, B-Sides, and rarities. I’ve already expressed my love for 2016’s My Woman (which landed at #5 on my end-of-the-year list for 2016), and if Phases’ first single is any indication, we’re in for an equally-great collection of moody guitar-centered folk tracks.

Japanese Breakfast

Japanese Breakfast is the Philadelphia-based solo project of Michelle Zauner. In 2016 she released the grief-stricken 25-minute LP Psychopomp which featured a collection of tracks written in the wake of her mother’s battle with cancer. This year’s Soft Sounds From Another Planet essentially acts as an update. A group of 12 adventurous tracks that offer an honest depiction of what happens after the most important person in your life passes.

Aside from the personal update, Soft Sounds finds itself standing musically above Psychopomp thanks to improved production and added fullness of her now-honed backing band. All of these pieces come together neatly for a more fleshed-out, but less personal album than her debut. The tracks range from saxophone-laden danciness (Machinist) to Roy Orbison-esque balladry (Boyish), but Michelle’s personality shines through each and every moment, making for a hopeful space-themed journey.

Half Waif

Half Waif is the icy electronic side-project of Pinegrove’s resident keyboardist Nandi Plunkett. This year she’s found a voice speaking out against the internet (and the music industry's) inherent sexism, but Half Waif’s form/a EP is all the proof you need that she’s a musical force all her own.

Often taking a more dark and honest approach than Pinegrove’s good-spirited group-based cheeriness, Half Waif allows Plunkett to explore deeply-personal stories and exercise the demons of her past. With disarming vocals, swaying melodies, and sprawling instrumentation, form/a is one of the most unique EPs this year.

Camp Cope

Camp Cope is a trio of Melburnians creating emotionally-punchy emo rock. In 2016 they released an impeccable self-titled debut that tackled everything from relationship nostalgia to police brutality, all in a little over half an hour. It’s a record of forward momentum, and Georgia Maq’s unmistakably Australian accent adds a unique tinge to the band’s already-memorable songs.

This year they’ve signed to Run For Cover, released a split with Cayetana, and done an Audiotree session. As they rev up for a tour, it’s unlikely we’ll get a sophomore album from them this year, but it seems like these girls are poised to segue this momentum into something really special within the next year.

Snail Mail

Out of the dozens of concerts I’ve seen this year, a select few have resonated with me deeply, and Snail Mail is one of them. The first time I’d heard of the band was minutes before they were about to take the stage as Girlpool’s second opener. I stood in the crowd, about ten feet from the mic, enjoying my beer and reserving my prime spot for the main act. As Snail Mail took the stage and played their first song, I became slowly disarmed. The singer couldn’t have been older than twenty (she wasn’t) but every song shimmered with a level of maturity and hazy emo malaise.

I found myself hanging on every word, losing track of time, and as soon as it started, it was over. Before their set ended, the bassist and drummer stood and disappeared backstage, leaving frontwoman Lindsey Jordan alone with the crowd. Illuminated by a single spotlight, it was her, a guitar, a mic, and a crowd full of silent people. She played “Anytime,” a (still-unreleased) wandering emo ballad in which she guides you, at first by hand, then by force, deeper into your own emotional rabbit hole.

To put it simply: I was awestruck. It was one of the most powerful things I’ve seen all year. The band has recreated this (to an obviously less personal degree) in their 2017 Tiny Desk performance which dropped the same day the band announced they were signing to Matador records. It’s spectacular, inspiring, and a little jealousy-inducing that this 17-year-old is achieving artistic heights that I could only dream of, but I am so glad to have been here on the ground floor. Snail Mail’s growth will only be exponential from here on out, mark my words.

Diet Cig

High kicks, pom-pom earrings, and pictures of doggos. These are just a few of the characteristics that make New York-based Diet Cig a compelling duo. Aside from an infinitely-goofy and endearing social media presence, the band puts on one of the most energetic live shows I’ve ever witnessed. Fueled by nothing but pop-punk ferocity, guitarist and singer Alex Luciano slides across the stage, jumping, kicking, and diving off equipment all while Noah Bowman lays down a steady beat on the drums.

Their 2017 debut album Swear I'm Good At This opens with a humming guitar and a heart aching delivery as Luciano details her teenage attempts to sleep with a guy that shares her name. Within a minute the album quickly whirs into top speed and remains there until its final notes. Their confetti-filled Tiny Desk session captures their on-stage charm and energy quite well and earned the band a deserved spot in a New York Times profile over the summer.

BABY!

The emphatically-named BABY! is a Florida-based pop-punk group helmed by Kaley Honeycutt. Fittingly enough, the eternally-hair-dyed Orlandoan released her debut album Sunny, F . L., at the tail end of summer. The record is a breezy marriage of intimate bedroom pop vocals and delicate shimmering instrumentation.

Signed to ex-Japanese Breakfast’s Yellow K Records, BABY! is a prime example of killing it in a local scene. From touring the east coast to hand-making shirts and buttons, Honeycutt is an exemplar of an old-school punk DIY mentality wrapped in a sunny Floridian package.

Lorde

You’d have to have been living under a soundproof rock to have not heard Lorde’s chart-topping “Royals” back in 2013. After making waves with her (nearly-undisputed) song of the summer, she went six-times platinum and then dropped her debut album Pure Heroine, all by the age of 17. After years of touring, writing, and working on other projects, Lorde simply took some time away from the spotlight to live her life.

In 2017, four years after she first introduced herself to the world, Lorde returned to music, ready to reflect on the remainder of her teenage years. She paired up with Bleachers’ Jack Antonoff and released Melodrama, a markedly more mature and thoughtful record. This highly-anticipated sophomore album utilized real instrumentation and found Lorde grappling with a recent breakup. With 11 tracks stretched over 40 minutes, Melodrama offers a wide variety of explosive sounds centered around grounded slice-of-life stories from the worldly New Zealander. It also happens to contain some of the most infectious, ear-wormiest tracks of the year and has slowly crept up against E•MO•TION as one of my favorite pop albums of all time.

Girlpool

Often categorized as “folk punk,” Girlpool is a duo comprised of Cleo Tucker on guitar and Harmony Tividad on bass. The two swap instruments and share vocal duties, which led to the creation of their one-of-a-kind debut Before the World Was Big. This year they added a drummer, second guitarist, and released Powerplant, a more full-bodied follow-up.

The dynamic between the two remains strong as ever, and once the opening track “123” clicks into place, it’s clear the drums are there only to support our two leads. They get dark on tracks like “Soup” and eventually send the listener off smiling with “Static Somewhere.” I personally think the band lost a little bit of personality in going from just guitar and bass to adding drums, but there’s still some great charming moments on this record.

Jay Som

Melina Duterte is a 22-year-old Polyvinyl signee who first made waves in 2016 with her excellent debut Turn Into. This year, amid seemingly-constant touring, she’s already released her official follow-up Everybody Works. The album is packed with clear-eyed songs that depict a single life on an ever-shifting scale. Sometimes zooming down to interpersonal levels, other times peeling back to the cosmic scale, Everybody Works is a crystallization of Duterte as a human. The penultimate title track drills the album’s immensely-catchy title into your head, serving as the first hit of a one-two punch, followed by an epic 7-minute closer that will leave you breathless.

Courtney Barnett

Courtney Barnett is an indie rocker from Australia who charms the listener through witty self-deprecation. Her debut album, 2015’s Sometimes I Sit and Think, and Sometimes I Just Sit gained her attention for her deadpan delivery and slacker approach to writing. Sometimes I Sit is wall-to-wall memorable tracks that range in topics from biting punk to suburban settling and environmental helplessness. The album quickly became a critical darling, and Barnett earned a well-deserved spot on many end of the year lists.

This year, Courtney Barnett has released one well-received one-off single and has an upcoming collaborative album with equally-mellow pier Kurt Vile. Seeing how their slacker rock styles commingle this fall will be a treat.

Haim

After releasing one of the best pop albums of 2013, Haim has returned to shake up the musical landscape with Something to Tell You. With more of a retro sound than their debut, the three sisters pull influence from Stevie Nicks, The Eagles, and even Michael Jackson at certain points. The songs on Something to Tell You rattle on in a way that evokes an old Chevy: it’s got a little bit of dust and grit on it, but that dirt is just the countryside, there’s still a shiny hard-working body underneath it all.

Kacy Hill

G.O.O.D. Music’s resident female vocalist, Kacy Hill is a dreamy redhead with an incredible voice and a singular vision. Her 2015 EP Bloo first gave the world a taste of her offering, but this year’s Like a Woman is a sensual, slow, and occasionally violent exploration of the singer’s sexuality and what it means to be “a woman” in 2017. Alongside the album’s launch, Hill played up the sex angle with multiple steamy music videos and a pornographic parody website dirtylittleredhead.com. On Twitter, she’s just a goofy personality that seems genuinely awestruck and appreciative of her fans.

Lana Del Rey

Existing on the periphery of the pop music scene for over a decade, Lana Del Rey has steadily been making some of the most interesting pop music since 2010. Unflinchingly tackling topics like domestic abuse and drug addiction, Lana’s music is often a touch too edgy for radio play, but she’s garnered a sizeable audience since 2010 through a deft understanding of social media and several iconic breakout tracks like “Video Games.”

Her 2017 release Lust for Life finds her, for the first time ever, on the cover of her album smiling. Hair adorned with flowers, this happier Lana finds herself circling familiar topics like summer, and spontaneous beach trips, but manages to add some interesting wrinkles. Featuring guest appearances from the likes of Sean Lennon and Stevie Nicks, Lust for Life also seems to be grappling with some bigger, more existential issues like entertainment in the face of destruction and her own image. The record ends up being a nice offering of sultry, self-contained tracks that expand the world and mythos of miss Del Rey while leaving just enough to keep us hooked.

Paramore

After releasing some of the most important female-fronted emo albums of the 2000’s, Paramore could have gone anywhere. After various lineup changes, a couple monster mainstream hits, and soul-draining complicated legal battles, Hayley Williams decided to ditch the hair dye and embrace a vibrant 80’s throwback vibe. Featuring more engaging and personable songs, After Laughter is a colorful and cheery listen. Anyone paying close attention to the lyrics will quickly notice that the album’s joyful filter is simply a facade used to mask the uncomfortable personnel issues that the album tackles. Despite the lyrical bait and switch, Laughter ends up being a breezy and joyful listen, as long as you don’t spend too much time with the lyric sheet.

St. Vincent

Indie rocker and multi-instrumentalist St. Vincent has too much on her mind. The other-worldly guitar-player won a Grammy in 2014 for her excellent self-titled album that saw her assume the role of a “near-future cult leader.” St. Vincent (whose real name is Annie Clark) has been relatively quiet in the years since her last record, but in the lead-up to her upcoming Masseducation, Clark has rebranded herself as a straight-haired, plastic sex symbol. Perhaps pulling from her stint as a horror director early in the year, St. Vincent’s forthcoming album seems poised to dismantle institutions and send her on a years-long tour.

SZA

Much like Kacy Hill, SZA is the resident female artist of California-based Top Dawg Entertainment. Since 2012 she’s been releasing a string of quality PR&B mixtapes, gradually building a fanbase and expectations for her full-length debut. Featuring Blonde-esque instrumentation and more relationship strife than you can shake a stick at, SZA’s Ctrl is a bright, sexy, and honest portrait of a 20-something who just can’t seem to get things right but has all the best intentions.

Taylor Swift

Controversy seems to follow Taylor Swift around like the Coppertone dog. After a highly-publicized lawsuit, an exposing series of Snapchats, and too many beefs to count, the undisputed queen of pop is back with… something. Forecasted by a social media wipe and “dark” rebranding Reputation sees Swift at her most aggressive to date. Seemingly out for blood, this new sound springboards off her 1989 full-pop sound, updating things to be a little bit more modern. While I found “Look What You Made Me Do” to be an initially repulsive song, the video helps add a much-needed layer of context and rich visuals that make the song better retroactively. Whether it’s good or not, Reputation is bound to be one of the biggest and most-talked-about albums of the year, and will undoubtedly dictate Swift’s place in the pop culture landscape for years to come.

Tiger’s Jaw

After the departure of every other band member, pop-punk iconoclasts Ben Walsh and Brianna Collins have returned with Spin, a record proving that they still have much to say. While Tiger’s Jaw is primarily sung from the perspective of Ben, “June” marks the first entirely-Brianna-helmed track in the band’s discography. The song provides a nice sunny break in an otherwise homogeneous and similar-sounding record and earned the band some well-deserved attention after a few years away from the spotlight.

Carly Rae Jepsen

Taylor Swift may be the reigning queen of pop, but for my money, Carly Rae Jepsen should be the one on that throne. As we all remember, in 2012 each member of the human race was forced to listen to “Call Me Maybe” at gunpoint, and thanks to the song’s oversaturation many listeners came to either actively disliked Jepsen or assumed she was a one-hit-wonder. 2015’s E•MO•TION was a critical success and a commercial failure, but to this day remains one of the best pop albums ever recorded. Lovingly detailed in Max Landis’ 150-page dissertation, CRJ is an artist of darkness and surprising depth. After expelling the rest of the E•MO•TION-era work with a B-sides album, Jepsen dropped a single early in the year that snatched wigs the world over. The fact that a single song invigorated me this much and made such relative waves only excited me more for her next album. Hopefully this time the world sees the light and comes back around to the Canadian goddess because she deserves to be listed up there with the greats.

Phoebe Bridgers

Finally, for the sake of some kind of bookending, Phoebe Bridgers is an LA-based indie folk artist much akin to Julien Baker. Despite a disarmingly-goofy social media presence, Bridgers’ Big Lebowski-referencing debut Stranger in the Alps is a heart-breaking, foggy, first-person recounting of individual experiences. The album has already received co-signs from Hayley Williams, Tiger’s Jaw, Julien Baker, Best Coast, Dan Campbell, and Grimes. She’s currently tearing it up on a tour War on Drugs, but I expect this album to show up on a good number of end of the year lists. If you want to hear a unique collection of stories on heartbreak, you’d be hard-pressed to do better than Stranger.

Additional Artists

This ended up being way longer than I originally intended, but the above albums are some of my favorites this year. There have also been some other great releases this year that I just don’t have the time, knowledge, or words to detail as lovingly as the ones above, so for the sake of keeping this relatively brief, here’s a quick-hit version of some other kickass female artists who dropped some great albums this year.

• Beach House: The dream pop duo follow up their excellent 2015 releases with a collection of equally-listless B-Sides and Rarities.

• Feist: After a fluke pop megahit in 2007, Feist hits a new artistic peak with the guitar-drenched Pleasure.

• Cayetana: The self-described “boisterous Philadelphians” released a sophomore album of 12 punchy rock tracks.

• Banks: After an alarmingly-sexy 2014 debut, Banks seems to be ramping up to a new album after dropping two steamy singles this year.

• Jetty Bones: Clearly-delivered indie rock that transparently showcases the struggles of one person’s life.

• Mannequin Pussy: The band revisits their blistering 2016 breakthrough album in an explosive 14-minute Audiotree Session.

• The Japanese House: On her fourth EP as Japanese House, Amber Bain serves up four hypnotic synth-drenched love songs.

• Daddy Issues: Grunge isn’t dead, it’s just been lying dormant until bands like Daddy Issues arrived to bring it back to life.

• Who Is She?: A Seattle-based supergroup consisting of members from Lisa Prank, Chastity Belt, and Tacocat who combine powers to create infectious pop-punk songs dripping with 2000’s-era nostalgia.

• Torres: Three Futures is a mature and careful album that finds Mackenzie Scott at the helm, steering the ship more sure of herself than ever.

• Charly Bliss: On Guppy Charly Bliss is a charming mess of broken humanity featuring the unmistakable vocal stylings of Eva Hendricks.

• Alvvays: The antisocial Canadian indie group utilizes fuzzed-out instrumentals and rich layering to create an enchanting and memorable indie experience.

• Small Circle: backed by three members of Sorority Noise, this Marissa D’elia-fronted emo supergroup effortlessly created one of the years most hard-hitting and emotionally-impactful albums.

• Marika Hackman: I’m Not Your Man begins with the welcoming sound of laughter and immediately launches into a tale of infidelity. The rest unfolds from there.

• Sheer Mag: This summer, the jangly and soulful rock group finally unleashed their long-awaited full-length Need to Feel Your Love.

And

There you have it. You take the good with the bad, and for all that 2017 has taken from us, it’s amazing to see artists and creators like the ones above adding some beauty to the world. Theirs is a perspective that’s sought, appreciated, loved, and needed now more than ever.

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unt2017 · 5 years

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Go Ask Alice by Anonymous

Genre: Biography/Autobiography

Image

Evaluation/Response

Sometimes I read a book and it stays in my mind a while I go through the process of trying to figure out how I feel about it. Go Ask Alice by Anonymous was one of those books. The topic was a tough one, but that wasn’t what got me most. Drugs are a horrible demon that can ruin lives and families. What I saw in looking back at my notes while reading is that a lot of what the narrator said did not make a lot of sense because the more she got into her drug use the faster her brain and thus her writing became which I found interesting, but it also made her more unrelatable. According to our textbook Tunnell, Jacobs, Young & Bryan (2016) “Point of view is the position taken by the narrator.” (Tunnell et al., p. 19), and in this case the narrator has a first-person point of view because she uses I to describe herself, but I also sense that she would be considered an unreliable narrator because of the way her writing flows. An example of this would be the following:

Besides, after what I’ve been through, I think I’d believe anything. Isn’t that sad, to be in a spot where everything is so unbelievable you’d believe anything? I think it’s sad, dear friend I really and truly and desperately do (Anonymous, 1971, p. 135).

While this quote seems to be written in a fashion that allows the reader to see the point of view of the narrator, I also see it as a piece of a puzzle that shows the narrator to be unreliable. On that note, this quote also gives the reader a look into pacing of the book as well.

This book seemed to be in disarray. It is written in journal entries. I mean it was written relatively well as far as there being no errors in spelling. Grammar is another matter, but I would expect as much from this type of narrator. I believe the grammar and punctuation changes were part of the pacing problem. According to Tunnell, Jacobs, Young & Bryan (2016) “Pacing is how quickly or slowly a story moves” (18). Without the standard editing, it made the pacing seem fast in certain places and regular in others. Although, the following quote doesn’t really show the pacing in the traditional sense, I believe it does in another way. It shows the pacing of the character and their state of mind. The narrator states “I don’t want to get old. I have this very silly fear, dear friend that one day I’ll be old, without ever having really been young” (Anonymous, 1971, p. 153). While I can understand this statement as someone who has been a teenager and who is ultimately still growing and learning as a young adult, part of me read this statement with the character being an addict who tries to find justification for her mistakes instead of owning up to them. I feel this is one of the times where the pacing makes sense because her mind was in the process of changing.

The last point that stood out to me was the tension. According to Tunnell et. al (2016) “Tension makes the reader want to read on to see how the conflict is resolved and what happens to the people involved in the problem” (19). There are several different instances where the tension is noticeable, but I’m unsure if it has to do with the story or with the subject in which this book is tackling: drugs and the journey an addict goes on as they try to navigate their life after drugs have entered and hopefully, after they have conquered and kicked their addiction. There is an entry that shows me as the reader that the tension is rising and made me realize that the main character was in a situation that wasn’t conventional. This particular entry didn’t give much background, but it gives insight to how the main character might still be struggling. The following passage is written as follows (1971):

…I guess they were just being careful and checking to see that you weren’t full of drugs of one sort or another. I don’t even feel real. I must be somebody else. … The nurses and doctors keep telling me I will feel better, but I still can’t get straight. I can’t close my eyes because the worms are still crawling on me. They are eating me. They are crawling through my nose and gnawing in my mouth and oh God…I must get you back in your case because the maggots are crawling off my bleeding writhing hands onto your pages. I will lock you in. You will be safe Anonymous, 1971, p. 122).

I feel like she started out her entry clear headed, but somewhere along the line her mind started slipping. This isn’t the first entry I read like this and it definitely wasn’t the last. These words just made the tension of the storyline string a little tighter, but I still want to believe she would win her fight.

I’ll be honest when I got to the end I was crushed. She sounded so hopeful at the end. She had decided to not start another journal stating the following (1971): “…I think when a person gets older she should be able to discuss her problems and thoughts with other people, instead of just with another part of herself as you have been to me” (Anonymous, 1971, p. 158). I was hoping things really had changed for her, but drugs are a difficult demon to fight. It pains me to think how many people lose their lives to drugs when it’s almost clear they are willing to beat it and wanting to so badly. She was still a teenager with so much more ahead of her.

I had to take a day after finishing this book to compose myself and my thoughts because I knew that I was going to look at this book differently due to the assignment. If I had just been reading it for enjoyment, I would have let my mind just process what I read without dissecting the parts that I would use for this blog post. For this reason, although finding answers about the major parts of a story such as point of view, pacing, and tension revealed themselves rather easily, but trying to answer the questions that are in the Reader Response article by Owen Williamson might be a more challenging task for this book due to the nature of the topic.

The first question I want to look into answering is the following: How well does it address things that you care about and consider important to the world?” (Williamson, n.d). Go Ask Alice by Anonymous was surrounded by the subject of drugs. I have never had to face a situation like this myself, but reading this book made me think of the numerous stories I have read where people have passed away from drug related issues. I find it an important topic to make visible and let others know that there are resources out there to help those affected and their families when they realize they need it. So, while I have never had to feel the pain that a drug addiction can cause, I do sympathize when I read the stories or a book like this because I always hope and pray for a good outcome and sometimes, like in Go Ask Alice, there isn’t one.

The next question I am interested in answering is “How well did you enjoy the text as entertainment or work of art?” (Williamson, n.d.). I liked the story because I’ve always enjoyed stories that have a realistic feel to it. Although Go Ask Alice was a tough book to read it had a story everyone needs to read because it shows what can happen to those who suffer from an addiction. Part of me wishes I could have read more about how it affected the family as a whole, but I understand that might be difficult with the limited first-person point of view. As an autobiographical/biographical story, the author pulled on my heart and made me care about what happened to the main character. An example of this is the following quote (1971):

For the first time I feel absolutely certain that even if I were locked in a room full of acid, Speed, and every other upper in the world I would only be disgusted, for I see what it does to kids who used to be my friends (Anonymous, 1971, p. 112).

From this quote, I wanted to believe that the main character would get better. That she was determined to kick her addiction and continue on to become who she wanted to be and not who her addiction made her. Optimistic view point? Yes, it is, but I couldn’t help it because it is quotes like the one above that make me rethink the main character. I realize that the author wrote her like they did because they wanted to show all sides of the addiction and in my opinion it worked. It showed me that beyond the addiction is a human being that cares and feels. The author tried too hard in some places, but I also saw that as them wanting to make their character as real as they could.

Conclusion

The main character is a teenage girl who is tricked into falling into a world she couldn’t find her way out . It pains me that this is the story of so many—teenagers, men, women. It doesn’t matter how their lives were before the addiction began. All people see from the time the addiction starts is the addiction itself. Somehow, the person they were before no longer exists. I’m not sure how many times I had that thought and honestly, it makes me mad at myself because I felt like I fell into a trap too. I fell into a trap of hope and it was ripped out from under me. I enjoyed Go Ask Alice and I would recommend it. However, I would caution that it may leave you with the feeling of your world spinning and your sense of equilibrium unbalanced and while I see that as a good thing, it also left me with a lot of unanswered questions such as “What can we do to make sure this stops happening?” Yes, this story is fictional, but there are many out there who have lived a real version of it.

References:

Anonymous (1971). Go Ask Alice. New York: Simon & Shuster.

“Go Ask Alice” [Image]. Retrieved from https://www.simonandschuster.com/books/Go-Ask-Alice/Anonymous/9780671664589

Tunnell M.O., Jacobs, J.S., Young T.A. & Bryan, G. (2016). What is a good book? in Children’s Literature Briefly, (pp. 15-23.). Upper Saddle River, NJ: Pearson.

Williamson, O.M. (2006). “Reader Response”. Retrieved from http://utminers.utep.edu/omwilliamson/engl0310link/readerresponse.htm

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myrelevantwriting-blog · 7 years

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The Wild, 18-Minute Ride That Is Daydream Believer: A Review by a Former Teenaged Girl

Every generation has its “coming of age” movie: the movie that sees its main character through the naivety of adolescence to a catalyst that makes them realize they’re *gasp* growing up. The ‘70s had American Graffiti, the ‘80s had The Breakfast Club, the early ‘90s gave us the tearjerker My Girl (I’m still holding that vigil for Thomas J). All of these films had characters nearly everyone could identify with. Maybe you were the Cameron to your best friend’s Ferris Bueller. Perhaps you knew exactly what Jim Stark’s deal was in Rebel Without A Cause.

But then, in 1998 came a little known short film with a character so damn relatable it brings up memories you thought you buried so deep in the soil of your brain, it could only be unearthed by years of intense therapy.

Ladies and Gentlemen: Daydream Believer!

Let me start off by saying when my friend Rosie posted this movie to her blog I had no clue what the hell I was getting into. The 1970s film grain and the awkward silence (save for the chirping birds) when we meet our homegirl Susan made me half-expect one of those “What’s Happening to my Body?” filmstrips they made us watch in the 4th grade.

“Are you there, God? It’s me, Susan. All my friends are getting their periods except me. What have I done to anger you so?”

Right away we know Susan is different. She does weird things like…walking (especially when she has a perfectly good Schwinn on the front porch).

God, look at this freak.

“Look at her using her legs for non-jump-rope purposes like a fuckin’ loser.”

So it turns out that Susan’s a loner because she’s always daydreaming about her fab marvy crush…because she’s 11 and this is what 11-year-olds do: daydreaming and hurrying home and catch her fave rave on TV.

To be honest I was expecting it to be Davy Jones...the pirate, not the Monkee.

Yeah, Little Susie’s got fuzzy feelings for Mike Nesmith of the Monkees, to the chagrin of her concerned-yet-not-concerned-enough-to-actually-talk-to-their-kid parents. Susan’s mom is looking at her daughter like she didn’t wet herself over Sinatra back in her day. I mean, Susan can’t be that obsessed, though. She’s only got like, one album and a single pinup on her wall like she’s some kind of amateur. And she’s pretty reserved in her screaming at the TV so that’s considerate of her.

Her disappointment over lack of mammaries perfectly mimics Mike’s face which in turn perfectly mimics how I feel about this movie so far.

The film then takes somewhat of a weird turn and becomes from here on out a wild rollercoaster ride of “What the actual fuck?” We take a journey into Susan’s brain as she sees herself as a 45 year-old woman teenager, getting ready for her date with-…oh my God.

YOU DON’T SAY

I’m somewhat flabbergasted by their casting decision to go with a paunchy, late-30s Ashkenazi Mike Nesmith but whatever. I’m not gonna judge Susan. She’s 11. When I was 11 I wanted to hang out with Gabe Kaplan circa ‘75. It’s a weird age.

So after her date with Mack Nussbaum we find Susan back at school, going for one of her weird daydream walks and completely oblivious to a group of bitches talkin’ shit behind her back.

“I bet she doesn’t even listen to the Banana Splits. Dweeb.”

“Joke’s on you! Me and Marc Nesbitt are gonna go closed-mouth kiss behind the JFK Memorial Tree. Hope I don’t get pregnant!”

I’m not even going to comment on this next scene. There’s nothing I can add to how utterly perfect it is in its understanding of the pre-teen girl’s brain so I’m just gonna let the caps do the talking.

But trouble rears its ugly head in the form of Susan’s teacher, glaring at her disapprovingly and telling her she’s “a much better writer than this [homework],” before proving this to be a bold-faced lie as we cut to a scene in which Susan writes in her diary:

Mike is so beautiful. He has lovely brown eyes. His hair is so soft and silky. I want to run my fingers through his beautiful hair. He has a sweet Texas accent that is so beautiful to listen to. I could listen to him read a book for hours and hours. He’s divine enchanting!!!

This nonsense reads like a 1st grade primer. Girl, I know you’re 11 but this is clearly not your first day at the Mike Nesmith Rodeo. This should all have been covered on page one.

Also, I hope Susan asked for a thesaurus for Christmas.

So homegirl’s studies are suffering because she can’t keep her mind out of Mike’s pants and daydreaming about going on a romp with Mork Nerfherder to the song Papa Gene’s Blues. As you do…

“Whatchu thinkin’ about?” “Oh nothing…just statutory stuff.”

…that is until your cockblock of a teacher calls you out for not paying attention and embarrasses you in front of the entire class (a situation I knew all too well, so I actually empathize with her here). Susan goes home to complain to Raggedy Anne and delve into yet another daydream in which Mike takes her home to meet “the guys.” Oh boy, I can’t wait to see what small town community theater actors they got to play the Monk-…..wait what?

They look as confused as I do right now.

After an awkward introduction to the roommates (we’ve all been there. College, amirite?!) Murk and Susan go up to Mulk’s room…

I’m suddenly feeling rather uncomfortable and it’s not for the severed clown head in the corner.

…where Malk puts on bossa nova music and they start making out…

Oh my God, No….

NO!!!

NONONONONONONONONO!

YOU’RE GONNA CUT BACK TO THE CHILD ACTRESS AND MAKE THIS MORE AWKWARD THAN IT IS?! WHAT ON EARTH IS WRONG WITH YOU?!

Those lines under Raggedy’s eyes are from all the internal screaming.

No…………………….this is not how I wanted to die.

OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HEAVEN HALLOWED BE THY NAME….

…AS I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF THE SHADOW OF DEATH….

HAS THIS BEEN A PORNO THE ENTIRE TIME?!

BRB SETTING MYSELF ON FIRE…

There isn’t a word for how unnerved I am right now, so I’m just going to make one up. I am extremely floopnozzled, I am totally and immensely…wait a second…

As I breathe a gargantuan sigh of relief, Bra-vo!

After Susan has finished violating her poor Raggedy Anne doll, her dad barges into her room and in a very ominous voice says they need to talk.

The clown in the back but on a brave smile but what his eyes have seen cannot be unseen.

They go to a parent-teacher conference to talk about Susan’s failing schoolwork and conclude it’s Mike’s fault, so they ban her from the living room and the TV. And for whatever reason I don’t quite understand, there’s a scene where Susan has to listen to her parents bone on the couch. I guess as part of her punishment? I dunno.

Girl, same.

EDIT: @legrandennui has informed me that it’s possible the voices she’s hearing aren’t her parents but her daydreams distracting her again. I still think it’s the parents, though.

And even though her parents think she’s obsessed with Mike and forbid her from watching The Monkees, her enabling Mom comes home from the grocery store and gives her flowering junkie a hit of the hard stuff via Teen Life magazine with the Monkees on the cover. I heard this was how Sid Vicious died.

At first Susan is overjoyed, until slowly her smile fades as she reads an article. She storms off into her room and screams at her magazine “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME YOU WERE MARRIED?!”

Lol wut? Child, where have you been? How are you going to be all up on Mike’s dick but not know anything about him beyond his brown eyes and silken hair? That’s like, page 1 in How to Obsess.

So we get one last daydream sequence in which Susan tells Mike she’s leaving him because she’s grown and wants to move on…

…which I guess in this case means getting back to her schoolwork and keeping her grades up…amongst other things.

“Wait, does this mean Shatner doesn’t make her want to bone? Is that the lesson here?”- @legrandennui

I’ve watched a lot of movies about adolescence in my years but this was the first one I’ve seen that had perfectly nailed it in terms of being a young girl with a fave rave. I had gone through nearly everything in this movie: the nonstop daydreams, the constant writing about the object of my surging hormonal lust, not paying attention in school, the concerned look from my parents, and I’m not ashamed to admit my pillow had gotten the Raggedy Anne treatment. My room was a bit more intense than that, pin-up wise but I can’t imagine they had a lot to dress the set with in 1998. This was like looking straight into my own past and as uncomfortable as it was to see what I was like from a 3rd party view, I have to say at the same time it’s incredibly amusing to watch someone flip out over a teen idol while sitting back with a knowing, sympathetic nod.

If you want to watch the film it’s here on Youtube.

#The Monkees #Daydream Believer #short film

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euphoriccalliope-blog · 7 years

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C’mon. Play the Game.

This just popped into my head re: the Sherlock ARG getting underway in earnest, and some anxiety around that. Folks who’ve been going harddd since January 15th are exhausted -- all the more so because the Sherlock fandom is used to operating on a years-long hiatus schedule and we’ve suddenly been pushed into hourly realtime effort. It’s decidedly uncomfortable on one hand, but also thrilling.

The ARG is basically an epic game of chicken. Do we trust we know the rules and parameters enough to play it without getting bruised or overly frustrated by TPTB who are playing it with us? We’ve been burnt before. If there is no explicit prize of another episode, promised upfront, then what does “winning” mean other than knowing we were smart enough to risk our pride to prove we’re clever?

Answer: we play it because we can, because we want to, and yeah, because we’re clever. And maybe we also know we can rescue each other from it if it gets too cray. And because it makes us fall in love with the brilliant members of this fandom a bit more. (John has a role also in this scene.)

A Study in Not Blinking

It strikes me that there are a lot of parallels between the fandom’s feelings around the ARG and this scene in ASiP when the cabbie (Moftiss) convinces Sherlock (us?) to stay at the table, even though S. knows there is no gun keeping him there. The cabbie’s gun is fake. Just as many brill folks have determined that the gun at the end of TLD/bracketing TFP is also _not a tranquilizer gun_. It’s not what we are told it is, based on the evidence of our eyes. And same goes for the representation of a J&S romantic relationship on the show -- we stand by our visual understanding of what is real and there, vs. the “official” view point that it isn’t, and also btw who you are doesn’t matter.

Bear with me a sec. I think based on what we have seen so far in the ARG, they have been playing a very long game indeed. Witness @tjlcisthenewsexy’s recent brilliant discovery & explication about the cabbie’s license # from ASiP (X). My hunch is that they’ve been building in meta-ARG stuff all along, all so that they would have the option of using it later if they wanted. With that in mind, let’s take a look at the ASiP classroom showdown from the perspective of where we are now, dipping our toes into the ARG.

Read this through, please:

Transcript courtesy of the lovely and astute Ariane DeVere (X) -- S1 E1, part 4:

CLASSROOM. SHERLOCK: What if I don’t choose either? I could just walk out of here. (Sighing in a combination of exasperation and disappointment, Jeff lifts up the pistol and points it at Sherlock.) JEFF: You can take your fifty-fifty chance, or I can shoot you in the head. (Sherlock smiles calmly.) JEFF: Funnily enough, no-one’s ever gone for that option. SHERLOCK: I’ll have the gun, please. JEFF: Are you sure? SHERLOCK (still smiling): Definitely. The gun. JEFF: You don’t wanna phone a friend? (Sherlock smiles confidently.) SHERLOCK: The gun. (Jeff’s mouth tightens, and slowly he squeezes the trigger. A small flame bursts out of the end of the muzzle. Sherlock smiles smugly.) SHERLOCK: I know a real gun when I see one. (Calmly Jeff lifts the pistol/cigarette lighter and releases the trigger. The flame goes out.) JEFF: None of the others did. SHERLOCK: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case. (He stands up and walks towards the door. Jeff puts the gun onto the desk and calmly turns in his seat.) JEFF: Just before you go, did you figure it out ... (Sherlock stops at the door and half-turns towards him.) JEFF: ... which one’s the good bottle? SHERLOCK: Of course. Child’s play. JEFF: Well, which one, then? (Sherlock opens the door a little but shows no sign of leaving the room.) JEFF: Which one would you ’ave picked, just so I know whether I could have beaten you? (Sherlock closes the door again.) JEFF (chuckling): Come on. Play the game. (Slowly Sherlock walks back towards him. When he gets to the table, he reaches out and sweeps up the bottle nearest to Jeff, then walks past him. Jeff looks down at the other bottle with interest but his voice gives nothing away as he speaks.)

Aside: Aaaand now I get the deeper level of all the Russian roulette gun-swapping references that have been going around (maybe kept up most hilariously by @joolabee originally).

ARG Meta Interpretation of the ASiP Classroom Showdown

Sorry if this is just reiterating something that someone else has already done. My brain is mush at the moment, and it is entirely possible folks have already thought of this exchange in a post-S4, mid-ARG context.

Here’s the mid-ARG meta view of this scene:

The fandom doesn’t have to play the ARG (alternate reality game). No one is making us. We could just walk out of here.

But. We don’t like being manipulated. We decide to play along only so far as to call the puppet master’s (cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss) bluff, and make them show us what we are playing for, and force them to surrender. I’ll have the gun, please. We know what we are looking at (johnlock) and we believe we are right. We cannot be intimidated. I believe this corresponds to the anti-S4 backlash campaign, and the earnest expectation of more content.

The bluff is called. Definitely. The gun. Gun is not what it appears to be. The fandom unpacks TFP and other elements of S4 that are “fake,” and documents/discusses, all in record time. Some of us come out of shock and begin to see elements of narrative threads that can make sense of the mess, the true signals buried in the fake noise.

The Powers That Be (TPTB, the cabbie/Moriarty/Moftiss, all of whom are in charge of the game structure and who know us well enough to be always changing it to suit us with perfect temptations) applaud our skill in seeing the fake gun. We are unfuckable; no fear. We insist: I know a real gun when I see one.

On our own, we look back over all the times in BBC show canon, esp. within that TPTB seemingly acknowledged fandom interpretation as being deeper than casual-viewer understanding of the show. This was them saying to us: None of the others did. TAB’s heart of the conspiracy, TST’s references to ice lollies, tea code, the best secret societies having acronyms, TFP shockproof elephant glass, etc.

After S4 airs and is effed up, especially TFP, they begin to lose us for a a bit, first because narrative was false to its characters, and then because queerbaiting hamfistedness. TPTB will not publicly or officially engage to confess what their deal is. But we know what we saw. Justifiable anger/frustration/hurt from fanbase over TPTB’s lack of acknowledgment re: queerbaiting and lack of representation. Fandom amasses lists of canonical show reference points as evidence of our case. We take that case to the wider internet, to the BBC, and elsewhere, to try to hold TPTB somehow morally or legally responsible for all that jazz. There are conversations about the fandom crowdfunding an Operation Norbury PR/lawsuit initiative. We get up to leave, and we say to them: Clearly. Well, this has been very interesting. I look forward to the court case.

And then. And then they challenge us to play the game anyway, with the free knowledge that they cannot manipulate us directly with more bullets of questionable narrative content -- nothing more has been officially announced. We are on the point of walking away to wait passively, to write fix-it fic and make art and chat amongst ourselves, and get on with our lives. . . . But. There is a hint of a vast situation in front of us that offers puzzle-solving, intelligence, close-reading of the world, adrenaline and connections. Also possibly witty recycling of our own in-jokes and crack memes, and helping those to become part of the actual 130-year-old vast Sherlock canon’s Great Game, in the service of making real what we have repeatedly seen and know to be true within the BBC show. It’s rather irresistible. And they say: Come on. Play the game.

Do we turn around and consider it? I have already decided I need to sit down at the table and examine the possibilities. I don’t care about seeming foolish, so pride is not a concern. It’s not risking my life, and has the potential to be great fun. . . I respect the decision of those who don’t want to play, but personally I do. I think this is us losing our patience in the most delightful way possible, and taking the reins. Expect the best explosions.

So that’s that. I have no idea how much of this I can keep up with, simultaneously with work commitments and a personal life. But I have hope that the community can collectively carry it forward 24-7 and keep an open mind, and keep pulling on loose threads because it’s fun, and we’re clever. The fandom knows no time zones; we are global and we are engaged. You’re a scintillating group, and this narrative, this Sherlock-TV-world-real-life narrative, is super compelling. It pushes all my researcher buttons in the best way, with the ultimate reward that finding answers makes them real. No clue whether we will see canon Johnlock but I think this is worth playing to see where it goes.

Especially if we can wink knowingly at each other while doing so. (Pleased to meet you, by the way.)

Postscript: Suggestions for How to Play

ARGNet post on Getting Started with ARGs (X)

If you don’t want to play the ARG but want to stay otherwise actively engaged in the fandom, consider saying so at the top of your Tumblr blog, and perhaps blocking the (#sherlock arg) tag. I propose that tag should go on everything ARG-related.

Reminder to please document with links what you do, and tag/share info so that others can easily know what you’ve done and seen, and carry it forward. When you can, read the notes on a post and repost from something useful or new that someone else on that thread has said, done or seen -- this includes folks who want to be part of it all. Embed links in X marks like so (X) so they will show up in notes.

Players who are coming at this from TJLC fandom should throw in the #tjlc tag, to keep it front and center. All ARG playing requires tinfoil hat wearing, so I’m going to say we mostly drop that set of tinfoil hat tags unless you want to throw it in there. It’s more important to keep #tjlc if that’s the flag you fly.

If you are codebreaking, please post:

the encoded source ciphertext and where it came from (with a link also if possible), and

if you have broken the code, include the translated plaintext, as well as

what kind of cipher it was, and what key(s) it used.

be sure to add the tag (#sherlock arg codebreaking) so our army of smarties can become increasingly code-literate within the ARG, as codes become more complex.

If you’re playing, then play. Contribute something. Use the tags to read up and learn for yourself what’s going on. Engagement is always welcome, but try to refrain from just passively asking others to fill you in personally via direct questions to their ask boxes. Folks will be busy pursuing their own inquiries and organizing the info they have found. And ask box space may be precious to some, if that is how ARG clues tend to arrive from mysterious sources.

Other optional tags:

#dancing with the octopus = not knowing how many of the arms of the ARG we are or will engage, but enjoying ourselves anyway.

#the greater game = gives immediate context for what the ARG is in a way that makes folks think of Sherlock and not pirates (Belated epiphany: OMG. Sherlock always wanted to be a pirate. What do pirates say? ARRRRRG.)

#sherlock chess arg = references the S4 chess promo pic that throws the game pieces to us, and tells us it’s our move.

Tagging folks (I’m wary of tagging too many and causing annoyance, but please consider reblogging if you found this useful. We need to spread the word about standardizing our methods and tags! Thank you!):

@the-7-percent-solution, @whimsicalethnographies @teapotsubtext, @ti-ori-se @jenna221b, @inevitably-johnlocked @marcelock @tjlc @tjlcisthenewsexy, @mrsashdown, @materialofonebeing @joolabee, @toxicsemicolon,

#sherlock arg #tjlc #alternate reality game #arg meta #arg #sherlock asip #the greater game #dancing with the octopus #moftiss

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releasehipflexors-blog · 5 years

Text

Top 3 Best Stretches To Boost Your Hip Flexibility, Relax Your Tight Hip Flexors and Cut Down Back Pain

Hip Flexor Stretches for Back Pain

Hello,

Ron Bernie here.

What you are about learn are the 3 most effective static hip flexor stretches for pain relief that I have researched and experimented with over the years.

These stretches can be done anywhere and at anytime.

You don't need a gym and or any equipment at all.

But...

...Just in case you don't have your own personal waterfall...

...Here is What you Will Absolutely Need for Your Hip Flexor Stretches for Back Pain Relief :

A wall to lean on...and an accompanying floor, of course. A ceiling is optional.

A firm pillow or folded up towel to place your knees on

A bench or sofa to raise your feet with and also to put your knees on (one leg at a time, please)

(Optional) a 1-inch thick foam roll-up mat for extra padding

That's it. You now have a state-of-the-art front hip muscle stretching facility.

Without further ado...

The 3 Most Effective Stretches for Tight Hip Flexors and Back Pain

Stretch 1: Standing stretch

It's an oldie, but a goodie. Simple is what works.

Facing a wall, stand with your feet shoulder-width apart

Bend one knee behind you

Grab your ankle with the same-side hand

Pull your foot up, towards your buttock

Hold for 30-60 seconds

Repeat with the other leg

Pro Tips:

Maintain your body upright and facing the wall

Keep your knees almost touching each other

Modify the stretch by grabbing with the opposite hand

Stretch 2: Front Hip Lunge Stretch

Copy the stretch as you see it on the top of the page.

Stand with your feet hip-width apart

Take a big step forward

Hold onto the front knee, for support

Slowly thrust your hips forward, looking straight ahead

Keep your front leg bent and your back leg straight

Hold 30-60 seconds

Repeat with your other leg

Pro Tips:

Maintain an approximate 90 degree knee bend on the supporting front leg

Make sure both your toes and hips point forward

To modify the stretch, stand beside a sofa or bench and extend behind you the hip that is closest to the furniture

Stretch 3...

...Watch this video. I'm tired.

Just kidding, here is the break down of the hip flexibility stretch.

It's very simple, but very effective.

Get into a half-kneel position, like you are getting knighted by the queen of England.

Slowly thrust forward

On the outside of your front knee, place your opposite hand. Left-to-right or right-to-left

Gently pull your torso into a twist, everything else pointed forward

Hold for 20-30 seconds

Repeat twice for each side

Watch it in action, below.

Reduce Back Pain with This Hip Flexor Stretch

==>Read my in-depth Unlock Your Hip Flexors Review

Pro Tips:

Perform this maneuver gently; the deep hip flexors release slowly

Keep both knees at a 90 degree angle

Double up on the padding if your knees hurt

Take Your Hip Flexibility to the Next Level

Here's where we get a little fancy.

Add this advanced PNF technique to each of your hip flexor stretches for optimal pain relief.

If you are unfamiliar with the PNF concept, it stands for "proprioceptive neuromuscular facilitation".

It involves tricking the brain into letting your muscles relax.

As the young kids would say, PNF is a "body hack"

In order to relax the target muscle (the agonist) and allow a deeper, fuller stretch, you will contract the antagonistic muscle, which has the opposite function of the agonist, and hold it for 10 seconds.

Then you stretch target agonist muscle as for 30 seconds.

An easy example would be to flex your biceps muscle (front of the upper arm) and stretch your triceps (on the backside)

For the purpose of hip flexor stretches to reduce pain, the main muscles you target are the quadriceps and the iliopsoas.

So, to maximize your hip flexor stretches for back pain relief...

...You will contract your hip extensors.

Squeeze your gluteus maximus and hamstrings . Hold 10 seconds. Use medium muscle power.

Get into your hip flexor stretch and hold for 30-60 seconds.

To get the best results from your hip flexibility routine, do one round of regular stretching and then one round of PNF stretching.

If You Are Serious About Augmenting the Flexibility of Your Tight Hip Flexors...

... You should at least be aware of this newly discovered fact.

Constant sitting has caused our hip flexors to atrophy and become exceptionally weak and stiff.

I say "exceptionally" but really each and every one of us is afflicted by tight hips, thanks to the office and the advent of the internet.

If you thinks stretching and working out for hours on end, at the gym or studio daily, is enough to counteract all our time spent seated at work or rest. You are sorely mistaken.In this digital generation and this sit-down society, your hip flexors have become dysfunctional. Through a terrible ripple effect, the whole body has been affected.

Digestion, sleep,libido, physical performance, cognitive function and even psychology are influenced by these primal hip flexor muscles.

Unlock Your Hip Flexors and Take Back Control of Your Life

Granted the Unlock your hip flexors program isn't a magic pill or senzu bean that will instantly heal all your wounds.

It is, however, a proven system that utilizes revolutionary methods and techniques to thoroughly release your tight hip flexors in just minutes a day.

The program incorporates innovative hip flexor stretches for back pain reduction.

It goes into way more detail about PNF techniques as well as myofascial release of hip flexors, deep core stabilization, hip mobility exercises and more modalities to completely unlock your hip flexors in a proper sequential flow.

Through Unlock Your Hip Flexors, you will discover just how influential these obscure hip flexor muscles can be to our overall well-being.

You would do well to at least give Unlock Your Hip Flexors a read-through.

You'll gain from having exclusive knowledge of its advanced tactics to increase hip flexibility.

==>Read my in-depth Unlock Your Hip Flexors review here

If you are truly motivated to release your tight hip flexors and eliminate back pain...

...Invest in the program. Click the review link above, then click the gold button on the top right side of the homepage. It will appear as a new tab, so it doesn't take away from your learning.

I speak through my own experience and from the feedback I got from my friends and family, whom I recommended this program to; Unlock Your Hip Flexors will be of great benefit to you.

Experiment with the program for 60 days, risk-free. You can thank me later.

Also...

...Thank you for Reading my Top 3 Best Tips to Boost your Hip Flexibility, Stretch Your Tight Hip Flexors and Cut Down Lower Back Pain

You did a good thing for yourself.

The routine provided may involve a tiny bit of work and some sorting through anatomical and fitness jargon; but getting to know your body is never a bad thing.

Always check with your physician before you start any exercise routine.

With all that said, I hope the hip flexibility tips detailed in this blog post has proven useful and informative for you.

Remember: You always win when you invest in yourself.

Best of luck on your mission to a pain-free life.

-Ron Bernie

0 notes

prowlpetrex · 6 years

Text

“Absolutely not.” Shere Khan intoned, voice flat. His face was fixed in that “I cannot believe I’m even bothering to expend the merest fraction of my time on this nonsense” look. It was so well performed, he was willing to bet the average person usually only saw it on TV or in movies. He’d found through his own practices in the mirror that conveying the correct amount of sass, exasperation, and self-important superiority without sliding down one side or another to be surprisingly difficult. He wasn’t too worried, his progress made for great selfies, and the tiger was way older than him with years of experiences beyond the bird’s own. He’d get there eventually. Still… he snapped a quick shot of the cat’s expression for prosperity and his online presence’s sake alone. It wasn’t every day you got to see a master of the art of condescending bitch face at play in its natural environment. He felt the tiger’s gaze hone in on him, a frown forming where a tolerant smile had begun to take form when he’d been speaking with Glomgold. A few seconds trekked by, and he relaxed when nothing was said, and the other man’s focus was once more on Glomgold. Onto twitter you go, he thought happily, clicking the ‘post’ button after attaching the perfectly chosen hashtags to it. He smiled and waited eagerly for the ‘likes’ and ‘retweets’ to come rolling in. “And why not?” Glomgold practically yowled, raising both his fists and stamping up and down like a toddler having a tantrum. Snap and post. Both of them were creating some great material for his blog. He had become more certain of it when the first shot of Khan had reached over 20 likes in less than five minutes. The people had spoken and they were hungry for more. “You are not the acceptable age for one.” Khan said, face devoid of emotion. “And let yet you let Scroogie in on your little game, no questions asked?” Flintheart said, he crossed his arms, face scrunched up into a childish pout. “You two thought you could start a wee bit of an adventure together and leave ol’ Flinty in the dark, did you?” the old duck marched forward, an angry shade of red visible through his feathers. “You are mistaken, my friend.” Shere Khan said shortly, clasping his hands behind his back. His back was straight and firm. He looked the model of patience and serenity, which was enough to tell Mark he was beginning to become annoyed. He didn’t need to know the tiger personally. He was 110% percent sure nobody in their social sphere would tolerate being talked down like that for very long. “Am I?” Flintheart hissed, pushing himself forward and one of the footrests forward and hopping atop it so that the tip of his beak nearly touched the nose of the feline’s muzzle. To the cat’s credit the only sign that this had affected him, was a slight furrowing of his eyebrows before smoothing out his face once more. Seeing perfect blogging material, Mark subtly captured the scene before him. His followers were really in for a treat today, he thought with a chirping giggle. All those old Scottish games had provided him with great material for those who were into historical gameplay, reenactment, or just wanted to keep tabs on what Scrooge and Glomgold were up to now. Their rivalry was infamous enough that it would keep most of them satisfied. Especially since Flintheart Glomgold was perhaps the sorest loser Mark had ever had the privilege to chronicle. It had been hilarious, but for the elderly duck to then follow that up with an argument with Khan Industry’s reclusive founder and CEO over Scrooge McDuck? It made for the kind of material he could only dream of. “Do ye mark me for a fool?” the outraged growl was loud enough to make even Mark flinch, making it all the more impressive that the tiger’s facial features made no outward response. “In your own words you’ve admitted that you’ve allowed Scrooge in on this little game of yours only to shut the door in my face the moment I asked to play along!” Mark smiled, as Glomgold stamped his feet. It was moments like this that made him feel right at home in the Billionaire’s club. Glomgold was an old man, if he had less money people would have expected him to act his age. Instead he was perfectly content to make a feather-brain out of himself on the suspicion that Scrooge and Khan were purposefully excluding him from some sort of secret game they’d planned on playing together. His behavior made Mark feel mature in a respectable way, instead of a dumb “on the way to becoming obsolete” way. When they had all left, Beaks had done a little Q and A to cool down a bit from the earlier excitement while listening to music from on another tab, and watching the cooking channel as he progressed. Staring at a screen too long tended to make him feel exhausted and he didn’t feel like waking up with phone lines on his face again, so he liked to multi-task. Doing more than one task at once kept him awake and aware. Particularly if it was something he enjoyed. Scrooge had reentered the room after some time, and as was typical of the stuck up old guy, he ignored all of the greetings Mark sent his way. He felt his feathers rise up in annoyance, but took to passive-aggressively slurping his Mango puree instead of doing anything he might regret later. He wasn’t at his company where he could do anything he wanted without suffering much consequence. He was among his peers now and that meant playing nice. Besides, who cared what freaking Scrooge McDuck thought of him? He’d sighed to himself. Adulting was hard. It meant you weren’t allowed to be as Extra™ with peopling as you wanted anymore. You had to bide your time for the inevitable takedown to avoid facing the consequences. So he’d silently watched the McDuck leave, head down as if he’d been in a daze. When Khan had returned next, Mark had thanked him, and offered up some constructive criticism on the drink he’d been made. The Tiger hadn’t made his mango puree the way he’d liked it. No shade. No tea. Just facts. The drink had been smooth and silky instead of thick and pulpy like it should be. He hadn’t ordered some Crème Frappuccino, Jen. However, he could tolerate it, knowing he had gotten someone who had a higher net worth than he did act on a request he’d made-without getting all salty about it, well, that was something that just did not happen to Mark Beaks every day. The cat had raised an eyebrow at him before apologizing profusely, his voice thick with obvious sarcasm that had left Mark feeling just the slightest bit annoyed. But he’d shrugged and rolled with the mild sarcasm. Shere Khan had acknowledged him and that was important. The big cat had apparently returned to retrieve the smoothie he’d made for himself, and, having located the objective, stalked slowly towards the couch where Mark sat. He’d stood behind him, drinking the frozen beverage, and suddenly feeling uncomfortably hyperaware of the predator behind him, Mark had felt himself being assessed. For what he did not know, but whatever it was thankfully brief. As if unaware of his discomfort, Shere Khan had simply tossed the cup gracefully into the trash, and bid him a polite farewell when Glomgold had barged into the room with a loud bang. The elderly duck had clearly been in a rush. He was out of breath, gasping loudly and growling out angry Scottish curses. “I have done no such thing,” Shere Khan said, quietly moving away from his conversation partner, apparently on the lookout for another disposable cup. “Really?” Glomgold laughed as he followed the other man, an ugly mocking noise filled with derision. “What was it you were saying just minutes before then, an elaborate lie to make me jealous?” The Scot had first sounded incredulous, but, as he spoke the words had begun to sound increasingly doubtful but its finish. He’d moved closer to Khan, and if Wiktionary had face claims his would be filed under “suspicion”. It was as if the idea, now that the idea had been expressed, the likelihood of the content having been a lie had exponentially increased. “No.” The cat had located the disposable cups that had been placed inside one of the lower cupboards. “Please do not accuse me of falsehood where miscommunication could easily be the culprit.” Exasperation had begun to leak into the feline’s tone, making his words flatter than they would have been otherwise. in a move Mark would never personally have had the temerity to make, the Scotsman took advantage of the tiger’s decision to lean over to grab one of the cups to seize hold of the other businessman’s tie and yanked it hard enough that their faces were now touching. It was also apparently one move too far for the carnivore’s patience because he had stood suddenly and with the swipe of one furry claw pried the feathered hand from his neck clothing with brutal efficiency. Mark checked his phone and sighed in disappointment. He’d expected Shere Khan to do something. There was only so much the typical person would tolerate m\before they either fled or went on the defensive. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been quick enough to catch the scene in action and had captured only blurry outlines from the two of them. Dang it. He deleted the worthless photos from his phone with a little more force than necessary, and waited for the next moment to strike. “Ah, I see.” Glomgold drew out the final word. “A miscommunication error on your part was it?” The old duck had crossed his arm in a pout. It gave the impression that he was unaffected by the tiger’s growing agitation. “So it would seem.” Shere Khan allowed, making an attempt at civility. “Then what are the two of you getting up to together?” Glomgold made it sound like he half expected the two Billionaires were carrying on with an illicit love affair behind everyone’s backs, and it was perhaps this tone that made Shere Khan sigh in annoyance. “If everything goes as PLANNED, HE WILL AGREE to provide me with the location for an upcoming reality show I intend to produce.” He said slowly, pinching the bridge of his muzzle. There was a clatter and Mark felt the combined gazes of both men focus solely on him. Mark Beaks gave a start then retrieved the phoned he’d accidentally dropped with an embarrassed chuckle. McDuck and Khan would be hosting a Reality TV show together? He felt himself practically salivating at the interest this news would surely generate. Earlier that day, Khan had seemed on edge about people knowing he was into cooking shows. Maybe what had really been bothering him was that he hadn’t wanted any similar ideas between his show and anything currently existing to be seen as an act of plagiarism or a willful violation of trademarked concepts. He didn’t really know anything about the laws governing reality TV shows to be honest. He just liked watching them and, as he did with most of the fine print corporate paperwork, left the majority of the heavy lifting to his legal team. But that hardly mattered when he’d just gotten front row seating on some juicy gossip way before the newsies could sink their own talons into it. This kind of coverage on the lives of the rich and powerful more than made up for the hefty membership fees new members like him had to pay to get their own piece of the action. He fired off a couple of posts in rapid succession and grinned triumphantly as activity skyrocketed on his feed. With any luck, his posts would go viral and his account would get a mention on TV. He answered a few of the more frequently asked questions, then paused. The foreboding feeling that he was being watched washed over him and when he looked up he found himself once more staring into the predatory yellow eyes of Shere Khan. Feeling nervous self-consciousness well up inside of him, he gave the tiger a friendly little wave. The other man seemed to smile before turning his gaze back onto Glomgold, who, after a moment of useless flailing, had rallied magnificently from his initial surprise. “Why not me own property?” The duck said pointing a finger at the significantly larger mammal. “I’ll have you know---” “---Because these contests will be a competition geared toward locating a child of exemplary business acumen.” Shere Khan interrupted, the words logical and cold, but the fact that he was losing the will to remain polite, spoke of his decreasing patience. “Mr. Scrooge owns an actual living thriving city, populated by potential customers.” Glomgold made an indignant grunt, as if to interrupt but Khan wasn’t finished talking yet and spoke over him. “This is something neither you nor I possess, which is why he was sought out, and I refuse to settle for anything less.” Glomgold slumped, defeat splashing across his face. Mark grinned and took another snap of the almost defeated expression on the old Duck’s face. “There must be something I can do.” Flintheart said, he looked like he was wanted to argue, but had no clue what to say next. Shere Khan only shrugged in response. “I am open to suggestions.” He turned to leave. “If you think of something, I SHALL CONSIDER IT.” The words were short this time as he once more turned to leave, clearly intending to make a hasty retreat before Glomgold came up with anything else to pester him with. Before he’d left, Mark seized upon his own opportunity. “Have you decided on the Judges?” the tiger paused then raised a sleek eyebrow at him. “Pardon?” the word was said politely, no emotion crossing his face. “You know, the duderinos who decide whether these kids suck or not?” He asked with a careless expansive sweep of his hands. “I will be looking into potential candidates at a later time.” The tiger said softly. “Auditions will have to be made, and---″ “I volunteer.” Mark Beaks said immediately. Khan shook his head, but the parrot was not letting him off the hook that easily. “C’mon, Shere Khan, my buddy, my guy, my amigo,” he said beseechingly. “You’re going to want these judges to actually be successful businessmen and women, not some small town reject wearing rose-colored glasses and an over-idealistic idea of how the world works on their sleeves.” Shere Khan paused, evaluating, then--- “My answer remains the same.” the words were almost regretful. Glomgold smirked at him. “Sorry new guy,” he laughed. “You’ve got to wait for those feathers of yours to dry before you depend on business reputation alone.” Glomgold faced Shere Khan with a grin. “I would like to offer up my considerable experience to this project of yours.” He had placed one palm upon his chest giving off the impression that he was a high profile politician swearing into public office. “I’ll have to decline that gracious offer as well.” The tiger said brusquely, and Mark burst out laughing as Glomgold visibly deflated. “What?!” The laughter from the duo’s audience had clearly rankled, offence born of an injured ego. “No one says no to Flintheart Glomgold!” Mark wiped mirthful tears out of his eyes and grinned at the Scottish Duck. “Really, man?” he laughed brightly. “I’d have thought all those years spent as Scrooge’s quote end quote ‘Arch-nemesis’ would have taught you a thing or two about rejection.” Glomgold glowered in his direction but Mark didn’t care. He didn't like it when people were condescending towards him, and he refused to tolerate it from anyone without saying anything in return. “Be that as it may” Khan directed the conversation back onto its previous conversation, perhaps worried the two would cause a scene if they didn’t. “If what you say is true, then I apologize that necessity must force me to be the first.” He looked so genuine Mark almost believed him. “But after the events I witness earlier I really must refuse.” Glomgold looked like something distasteful had found itself lodged in his mouth. The older man clearly believed what was being said was true, which made Mark wonder what had happened that would give a normal person logical reason to decline such an advantageous offer but he could tell it was just an excuse. Mark knew an actor when he saw one and it was clear Khan was after something from Flintheart he felt he would not get by being direct with sharing his desired outcome. The tiger looked ever so regretful before stretching out till his back cracked satisfactorily and once more heading to the door. The limp in his gate was more pronounced than ever as he head out the doorway that would eventually lead to the entrance hall “What if,” Glomgold began, words choked and desperate. “What if I paid you to let me be the Judge?” There wasn’t any visible change in the tiger’s expression but Beaks could feel the other man’s attention zero in on the heavyset duck. “I’d want to know what you intended to contribute.” he said slowly. Glomgold frowned, “I don’t know what's needed for this project of yours.” He confessed. “I don’t even know where to begin.” Shere Khan smiled, pulling out his cell. “That, dear fellow, is what legal teams are for.” Glomgold nodded in agreement and pulled out his own. Shere Khan had requested the assistance of an employee to set up webcams and before long the two were sitting on the stools near the bar, busy ironing out arrangements. Their distraction left him with his own thoughts. Mark wanted to be a judge but it was clear to him Shere Khan didn’t want to pay the exorbitant wages reality TV shows usually afforded their judges. Like many wealthy people Mark had known throughout the years, the man was quite stingy with his own wealth. This contest was probably just a publicity stunt meant to last one season then cancelled after it had drawn more public attention back onto Khan and his company, and honestly speaking here, Mark wasn’t all that comfortable with the whole pay to play concept. Actually paying someone to become a job when most shows would have paid him randomly didn’t sit well with him. Glomgold obviously found it an easy choice because of his long history of defeat at scrooge’s hand and this was a way to one-up the old timer. But for Mark, the choice was not so easy. He didn’t have the same relationship Flintheart shared with McDuck. What he did know made him dislike the guy, and, sure, he considered himself an “antagonist” to the old man because his behavior towards Mark had made him feel things about himself that he’d found...unpleasant when he’d wanted to impress the richest duck in the world and had been summarily dismissed as unimportant. That title was one of many measuring sticks he used to assess his own self-worth. This one for his own personal wealth, which, sadly, wasn’t in the same margin as old man McDuck, but he was willing to bet much of that was due to age. Mark Beaks was still a young man and there was plenty of time to catch up with the man if he was patient. Trouble was he didn’t want to be patient. Another, even more important method of judging his amour-propre was his follower count… which had dropped since the two failures, first the BUDDY system robot and then his brief but highly destructive stent as Gizmoduck, he was ashamed to admit were now attached to his name. Judges on popular TV shows got a crazy amount of followers, so joining this game of theirs could potentially help him regain what he’d lost. His followers were the lifeblood of his company. They were a very big part of the reason waddle had done so well in the first place. But as he watched Glomgold and khan finally reach an agreement with the promise that the duck would for the catering in addition to the promised cash donation, he shook his head with a frown. It was obvious why Flintheart was the second richest duck in the world despite the fact that Scrooge wasted money on stupid superstitious stuff like supernatural defense if his sources. Glomgold, whether it was spending obscene amounts of money attempting to one-up scrooge or building death traps that ultimately failed was just a lot looser with his money than Scrooge was. These were issues born of a raging inferiority complex, and one that would likely doom himself to an eternal position of second place. On the plus side, his flaws made the duck more entertaining to be around. He was that short angry guy nearly every successful squad seemed to have on the TV shows of his youth who was getting himself and his friends into some stupid mess nearly every other episode because he literally couldn’t control himself for more than ten minutes. Sure, he’d yet to reach “friend” status with Flintheart, but it was all part of the plan he’d first conceived on the night of Scrooge’s birthday. It was another waiting game which required him to have patience if he wanted to see it come to a successful fruition, but the idea of developing a tie between himself, Glomgold, and Ms. Beagle was a good one. He was confident that, if he could get Mr. Graves to start returning his phone calls they’d be the perfect quartet. But that would require him to spend more time around Glomgold first. So far the older man seemed content to ignore him in favor of Scrooge McDuck. It had been irritating to be ignored constantly but Mark Beaks was a master at rolling with life’s disappointments and he’d be banned from the internet before he let the old duck’s brush-offs get to him. But, the dawning realization hit him as he watched Shere Khan summon one of the many moles who were employed by the Billionaires club to fetch him the head representative of his legal team, who was currently waiting at the front gate to be permitted access to the exclusive club. If he were to become a judge, not only would his follower count skyrocket, it might give him the opportunity to get Glomgold alone, possibly developing, if not a friendship, then a camaraderie between the known enemies of Scrooge McDuck at least. But it was also important to read the obvious clues Khan was leaving that more or less stated in no uncertain clues that he expected to be given a pricey little nest egg in exchange for their participation and finely made one at that. Going by what he was witnessing with Glomgold, it seemed as if he was not satisfied with accepting monetary bribes alone, which left Mark in a bit of a pickle. What, beyond money, did he have that he could easily part from without much sacrifice on his part…that Shere Khan might actually want? He thought it through as he watched a smartly dressed…canine… of unknown species introduce himself as Tabaqui as he took out several sheets of paper that had very likely been printed on site. The neat rows of printed words were visible but not legible from his position across the room. Taking stock of the new occupant, Mark vaguely thought that there were times when he found it frustrating that it was considered offensive to ask what species someone was. This was one of those scenarios. For the life of him, he couldn’t tell what species the guy was supposed to be, it could be anything, really, from dog to jackal to dingo or even a hyena with really muted coloring(in which case he wasn’t a canine at all since the hyena breeds were a family class all there own), but he was letting himself get carried away. It really didn’t matter what species the guy was so long as he didn’t turn on Mark randomly and ask him what he was. Yup, it didn’t matter at all. He was totally going to Google it later just so he could have that question answered though. Even though it meant nothing. Glomgold, in a rare display of maturity, had actually picked up the sheets of paper and was reading through them in their entirety as he asked questions and had the language edited as he saw fit. They were at it long enough for another waiter to ask if anyone would like something to drink. Khan wrote something on a piece of paper and handed it to the man but the lawyer was the only one to take the employee up on it and before long he was unlocking the wine cabinet and pouring something dark and purple into a glass. The canine(?) thanked him and the guy had returned to the counter to lock the cabinet again. He left the room shortly after, the note the tiger had given him still in hand, but it was enough to have the figurative ball start rolling in his head. B.U.D.D.Y. When he’d seen the notes and blueprints for the machine online, the user had mentioned the robot was useful in locating keys. His first batch of the models had proven to be a failure as the robot had shown itself to a temper that exceeded their actual size, but perhaps that could actually make them useful in this little contest Khan was throwing down. One of the most important skills an up and coming business owner needed was customer service skills. It paid to be seen as charismatic. The B.U.D.D.Y. robots would required delicate handling if the contestant was to avoid setting off the robot’s rebellious ‘KILL’ mode. Anticipating a high consumer demand, he’d had ten robots made. Following the trial run, they’d been scheduled to be decommissioned and scrapped for parts he’d use on any one of his other projects. However, if his robots got Khan’s attention, well, maybe they wouldn’t be considered quite the failure after all. Following the contest he could even have them sold as souvenirs from the show. Provided the customer signed a lengthy contract stating he and his company were in no way responsible for any damages that might occur following the sale. Mind decided, he approached the table where the three men were reaching the finalization of whatever it was they’d agreed upon Khan’s man noticed his presence. “Your witness, I presume?” The canine(?) asked with a rakish grin. Glomgold grunted a short unimpressed “He’ll do.” and before he knew it papers were being foisted on him by the lawyer as he translated the agreements between Khan and Glomgold from legalese into plain English, and a pen was being pressed squarely into his palm by the old duck, demanding that he sign the firms stating he had seen the deal between the two take place, that they’d both been of sound mind, and neither had threatened or otherwise coerced the other man into action. It had. It had been altogether too much. “Now, now.” Khan laughed amiably, watching the spectacle in amusement from his corner of the table. “I do believe you’ve frightened the poor chap.” Mark Beaks would have liked to have refuted it, and some part of his mind did object to what the tiger had said because it really wasn’t fear that he felt now. His mind was dissociating which was an entirely different than fear, but his mind had gone temporarily numb and he had frozen in place. But the tiger’s words did have the desirable effect of getting both men to stop talking, and more importantly cease touching him. So he could not bring it in him to despise the feline too much for his words. “As you both are aware,” Khan continued, a passive smile crossing his face. “A witness is not required in a contract such as this, however,” the last word was spoken over whatever Glomgold had tried to say. “I took the liberty of requesting the presence of notary.” Khan said shortly. “Ask the manager of this establishment to give the surveillance footage of this arrangement, and pass it to him, so that he might do his job properly.” Khan stood and Mark Beaks was suddenly made very aware of how very tall the predator was. “And Glomgold,” he said, smile as sharp as his teeth. “Do remember to pay the men.” The mallard left the room muttering darkly under his breath, and Mark was left staring after the two other men who were preparing to head after Flintheart as he wracked his brain for a way to say he still wanted in. Normally, he wouldn’t have had a problem volunteering himself for anything that was of interest to him. He’d just done it not too long ago. But he truly hated rejection, especially by people who were higher up on the corporate totem pole than himself. Nowadays that wasn’t as many people as it once was, but…Khan was among that rare clique of people he wanted to impress, and the tiger hadn’t even seemed to think his usefulness was even worth debating. That had been a royal burn to his ego, man. But the decision to say nothing wasn’t one he wanted to make either. If you wanted to be successful in life, you had to seize the opportunity wherever you might find it. Even if you failed it was better to have failed than to have done the task with anything less than a full set of tail feathers. So, when both men had gathered the papers and seemed set to leave. He stood up with them, and summoning all the confidence he could muster told them he still wanted to participate as well. Two sets of eyes locked on his as he explained what he thought he could bring to the table. He might have understated just how dangerous the B.U.D.D.Y.s could be, but otherwise he had stuck to the truth as he internally called out to a higher power than he that they realized how good he was, and how much they needed him to be on their little panel of judges. The discussion went on longer than he’d like. It was always important to keep up a positive public image and the direction their conversation was going made it difficult for him. The fact that the robots were rather dangerous and uncontrollable when provoked did seem to be a sticking point for Shere Khan, “But,” Mark Beaks reasoned, “We can make both the parents and children themselves sign a release of liability form.” He shrugged carelessly. “It’s not like they’re going to be unaware of the danger and if they sign anyway they can’t sue.” But still Khan hesitated before he admitted for the children’s emotional well-being in addition to how it would affect the little one’s friends and family. The words themselves were practically an antithesis to everything he had thought about Khan and he might have been shocked by the admission if it hadn’t been spoken in a voice, dry as a desert, and so lacking in any sort of concern whatsoever, that he wasn’t actually concerned for the children for their own safety. No, he might as well have admitted that the only thing that mattered to him was how potential customers would feel and respond if a child was injured during a competition hosted by Khan Industries. Realizing that he was quickly losing his audience, and that he’d been correct when he’d theorized money, or at least not money alone would not be enough to get him in a seat on the panel of judges he’d gotten desperate, and kinda, maybe, sorta, well…. promised Gizmoduck would be there to halt and protect any Child from a rampaging B.U.D.D.Y. if the situation called for it. There’d been a frosty silence between the two of them after that announcement. Mark had desperately wanted to take back his words. Gizmoduck no longer obeyed and his commands so he was in no position to promise anything, and Shere Khan, well… ceiling cat alone knew what he was thinking, but Mark had heard some stories on the grapevine that Khan had an issue or two about people that had lied to and broken promises with the man in the past. The older businessman had request-no, that didn’t quite describe the way the words were said, commanded seemed a better fit, he produce said he’d need to produce said hero before they discussed the conversation any further, let alone have a contract drawn up for him to sign. He had been left spluttering after him as the Tiger and his lawyer left together, the former giving the later a respectful distance, head bowed submissively for the first time that evening, and leaving no room for doubt who called the shots in that relationship. After his business with the notary was finalized, Glomgold had returned to wait behind the door to see how the situation between Khan and Beaks resolved, and had been witness to the whole sordid affair. When Mark caught the elderly avian staring at him from behind the door, he’d tilted his head to the side, wondering why the other man was lurking in the shadows. It hadn’t been until Glomgold had pointed a figure at him and laughed like a loon that he realized the other was laughing at his miserable failure like it was a joke. Maybe it was, in a way. He’d tried to bribe someone using killer robots and had been surprised when it failed. He kept his shoulders squared and head held high, doing his best not to show anyone that Glomgold had gotten to him. The task was more difficult to do than he’d thought. The mallard had clearly returned to make fun of his misery and rub his beak in the fact that he’d gotten the contract and Beaks hadn’t. He wanted to get under Mark’s skin and he’d been more successful than he would ever realize the parrot thought took one final look at the other man mocking him, than taking out his camera and snapping a photo for his blog. It wasn’t everyday someone of their economic status willingly took time out of their schedules to check in on him, and, even if Glomgold had only been their to see him fall on his face, it was hard not to let the fact that the old man had viewed him to be worthy of so much of his time get to him. He’d felt cheerful enough that he almost forgot to be upset about Khan. If Mark had been half-hearted about the venture before, he’d definitely committed himself to the mission now. His anger wasn’t quite the result of having been rejected, although those feelings changed and stung at his pride. No, it was the way hed been rejected as if he, his resources, and his money had meant nothing to the old tiger. The man’s attitude had been what had stuck up inside his craw like nothing else. He hadn’t longed to be invited to join the Billionaire’s club only to be treated like a nobody once he’d finally been inducted. And honestly? He refused to put up with that attitude from anybody let alone some uppity feline with delusions of grandeur. He wanted to prove he could get the man on board, and this is why he’d broken the window latch on the second story of the Fenton household. He preferred to go about things legally but if the door was barred to him he had other ways of getting what he wanted. Fortunately he hadn’t needed to enter the room without permission as M'ma Cabrera was surprisingly welcoming once he expressed an interest in hiring her son to work with children in need. It hadn’t even been much of a lie. The children didn’t know it yet but they were in need of being terrorized by killer robots who would teach them proper customer relations. The self-styled ‘hero’ was currently working on something for Mr McDuck she’d said but he’d soon return home. In the meantime shed told him he was welcome to wait in the guest room which was across the hall from her sons room if he didn’t want to stay and watch soaps with her. He’d thanked her and made his way up, entering Fenton Crachshell’s bedroom to fix the lock he’d broken. He gave the place a curious once-over, finding nothing particularly out of place. Outside of a small shrine devoted to bandages and first aid supplies, it was a normal bedroom one would expect to see from a man of average financial means who still lived with his mother. Mark didn’t know if he should be disappointed or not. He shrugged and got to work, broken windows weren’t in the habit of repairing themselves. He frowned at it for moment looking at the information he had pulled up on the waddle phone and after making a quick call to his office, got to work. It wasn’t a difficult task, just not one he did often. He had just finished fixing the mechanism when he heard the front door open and a familiar male voice tiredly greet his mother. The volume on the television was lowered and the couch made a loud creaking noise as she presumably stood up to greeted her son in turn before the two began speaking in Spanish. Mark took that as a sign to beat a hasty exit and propelled himself into the guest bedroom as fast as his legs would allow. That proved to be a wise decision as he heard footsteps bounding loudly up the step and a wild-eyed Fenton appeared in the doorway looking harassed. Mark grinned and lifted his arm in a friendly wave. For his part the parrot looked as if he had been patiently waiting where Ms Cabrera had directed him, one leg folded over the other, the portrait of a relaxed guest that had every right to be where he was. Mark’s apparent ease within the environment seemed to have the opposite effect on Fenton, so he continued to smile amiably at him. It was fun when people were easy to provoke. Fenton was less than thrilled to see him. “You” the word was drawn out and filled with enough venom to kill a fully grown elephant. “Me.” he agreed pleasantly, waving off the former intern’s irritation like a tiresome fly. “Why did you come here?” Fenton growled darkly. Well somebody hatched the wrong nest of eggs this morning he thought, watching in bemusement as Fenton threw his arms up, looking for all the world like he wanted to rumble. Mark almost laughed, Perhaps when he wore the suit it looked a little more frightening, but at this moment he looked like a scrawny little nerd with fantastic cranial plumage. His face was the kind that looked friendly even when angry, he wondered if anyone had mentioned it to him but he doubted it. Otherwise, his face wouldn’t look so intent. Mark wondered if the reaction would be worth it if he was the one to break his heart by telling him. Probably not. “I don’t know what your game is but you’re not welcome in my home.” jeez the guy really was buying into his own hype. He really did sound like one of those Saturday morning cartoon heroes from the 80s. Mark was glad the duck wasn’t wearing the suit or it would have been more difficult to focus on what he actually wanted. “Game,” he repeated dropping his voice to a near purr, as he approached Fenton steadily catching his gaze. “I’m not the one who’s playing any games.” The answer was, of course true. At the moment anyway. If something like this had occurred during his childhood he’d have jumped at the opportunity with all that he was, but it hadn’t, and now he was jumping at the chance to have something lesser but still significant. His only response was a long-suffering sigh. “Hey, think all you want but out of the two of us, its Mr McDuck who comes the closest to gameplay right now, sport."Mark’s tone was light as he watched Fenton react to his words."What do you mean by that?” As if he were a small child, instinctually hesitant out of fear of adult reprimand. “Wait,"Mark said slowly , widening his eyes for dramatic effect. "Could it be that you don't know?” The last was spoken in a theatric stage whisper. Fenton looked puzzled. “M'ma said whatever this is had something to do with children?” Fenton said slowly, beginning to look frustrated. “Yes,” Mark agreed, then went for the kill. “Scrooge McDuck and Shere Khan are starting a contest and they'll be using my B.U.D.D.Y. robots to help teach them proper customer service skills.” “What!” The look of shock on his face was priceless. He had to resist the urge to take out his phone and take a selfie with him and Fenton’s face, but at the moment he was cleverly disguised as a concerned and compassionate adult. Somehow he didn’t think that would go with his act. “So you really didn’t know I–” they both startled in alarm when they heard knocking on the front door, and for one wild moment he worries that it was Scrooge, or Gyro, or even Khan on the other side of that door. Both men sat quietly as someone spoke to M'ma Cabrera and then left. The silence between them was heavy as her steps leisurely ambled up the stairs before the woman knocked on the door and her son got up to meet her in the doorway. The two had another brief conversation in Spanish, some of which Mark understood from linguistic osmosis to be thanking her for the papers she had passed to him, but the majority of what was said had been lost on him. The duck returned to his seat and passed the papers to him, which he immediately recognized as the legal documents he’d sent for prior to fixing Fenton’s window latch. “I believe this belongs to you.” Fenton’s voice was several shades colder than it had been and Mark was now holding the obvious culprit. Clearly the paperwork had reminded the duck of the train wreck that had been last time he was employed by Mark Beaks and the parrot cursed the lawyer internally for his less than optimal arrival. “It does.” He admitted slowly, as there was little else he could say. “Why, and no lies now or I’m kicking you out.” The duck said, pointing a finger threateningly in his face. “Did you really come here?” Mark thought for a moment, then changed tactics. He’d gotten this far, he was certain he could get the other bird on his side with a bit of prodding. “Lets call a truce.” He said offering his hand and rolling his eyes when the duck eyed it as if it were covered in some particularly disgusting infectious disease. “Truth is, i need your help, amigo.” The fact pained him but that wouldn’t stop it from being true, no matter what he may have thought. Fenton frowned “Why haven’t you gone to Doctor Gearloose instead?” Mark laughed. “You’ve worked for the man, I’m sure you know how well that would’ve worked out.” His voice adopted a drawl that was a very good take on Gyro’s, if he said so himself. “Oh, the disgrace to proper scientist’s everywhere needs my help.” He pretended to straighten Gearloose’s imaginary glasses. “Words fail to describe my amazement.” He settled once more on his normal voice. “And that's if he didn’t decide to have me thrown into a recycling unit and used as fertilizer for the landscapers.” Fenton laughed . “The Doctor wouldn’t do that,” he defended, but in a more teasing voice “Right now Mr Gearloose is being watched too closely by the board of directors, and I really can’t see them letting him get away with coldblooded murder.” Mark tugged absentmindedly on the nape of his neck. “You’re probably right.” He said in amusement. “Murder tends to be bad for long-term public policy.” Fenton fidgeted at that. “So you’ve never considered–” “–No.” Mark said, interrupting the sentence before it had been fully asked. He’d like their brief camaraderie before it had slipped away. He regretted its absence. “Doctor Gearloose would probably have more respect for you if you didn’t steal so many inventions from other people.” Fenton shrugged. “If you, y'know, acted like a ‘proper scientist’.” Mark was partially tempted to laugh in the other man’s face. Science as they knew it today had been built on people borrowing, stealing, and taking credit for the work of others, often doing utterly deplorable things to the original creators in the process. Mark had never done anything that would be especially awful to a rival, so as far as he was concerned he was actually one of the nicer guys out there. But he had a feeling that if he were to actually admit that he and 'the hero’ would be debating morality forever, so he chose to ignore the statement. “That's one way of looking at it.” He said instead. Fenton raised his eyebrows. 'Oh, and what do you think would get him to change his opinion on you?“ There was just a hint of challenge in his voice and Mark smiled in response. "I have money, Doctor.” He coaxed, pulling out his briefcase to reveal said currency, flaunting it before the other bird as he traced the edges in an almost seductive manner. “And I’m willing to finance a few of your pet projects if you help me settle a simple problem of my own.” He shrugged amicably, closing the briefcase. “You know the man better than me but I’m betting his view towards me would be improved, even if its only by a little.” Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera was left absolutely speechless. Mark chuckled softly at the hungry desperate look that had entered his eyes and twisted his mouth before he checked himself, and pretended that little slip hadn’t happened. But he couldn’t prevent his eyes from darting back to the briefcase like a pet denied its favorite snack. “Why did you bring that here.” Fenton frowned, clearly suspicious. “I need to borrow Gizmodu–” “–No.” Fenton didn’t even bat an eyelid before responding. “You didn’t even let me finish!” Mark protested, the former intern could not be allowed to prevent him access to his super robot self. “I am not here for you to use however you see fit!” The parrot blew air through his beak in frustration, he’d really made things needlessly complicated for himself when he tried to take on the mantle of Gizmoduck, hadn’t he? “Look, this isn't about me trying to take on your mantle again, okay?” Mark said, trying to sound reasonable and hoping like hell he was successful. “In fact, if you get a call requesting your help you can leave at any time, as long as you return when it’s over.” He sighed. “I just want to prevent a few dumb kids from breaking a few bones on live television.” Fenton paused then stared at him. “Run that by me again?” Mark hid a smile confidence returning. “Oh, just a reality show Scrooge and I are involved in.” He said before giving a brief description of what they were planning, fudging only a few specific details a centimeter or two. It was only with this duck’s help that he’d be part of the game. “And I’m going to be a judge!” He finished brightly, watching as Crackshell-Cabrera slowly absorbed the information he’d just divulged. “I… I wouldn’t have thought Mr. McDuck would be interested in starting such a thing.” Fenton admitted, looking more than a little lost. “Me neither!” Mark confessed. Neither Khan nor McDuck seemed like the type of man who would think of doing something like this, let alone act on it. But truthfully he didn’t know either of them well enough to make an accurate judgement call, and when he got down to the wire, he honestly didn't care as long as he somehow got in on it. “But getting back to the topic at hand, Scrooge might not be willing to call in the big guns for something like this, but I’m not him.” Mark grinned all relaxed smiles and casual grace. “I’m thinking of hiring you as Robot manager.” This got Fenton’s attention.“Would you need to make modifications on my armor?” Mark had to cover his mouth to prevent a string of giggles from escaping it. The memory of event, the lack of control, the pain, the humiliation, the fear…it was, well, frankly too soon to try it again. Maybe later he’d warm up to the idea again, but right now he had no desire to chance it and found it hilarious that someone would think he would. “No.” He said after finally settling down. “We both know you don’t trust me as far as you could throw me, and I"d rather avoid the looks, and well, everything else Gyro’s going to throw at me if i altered one of his precious specimens on live tv before a live audience.” Fenton snorted inelegantly and Mar smiled, each knowing the parrot would certainly need to watch his back if he ever tried it. Fenton cocked his head to the side, a small smile reaching his beak. “And i still get decently paid?” “Of course.” Mark assured him, as if even considering to do anything but that would be a crime befitting the worst of punishments.“Good.” He said and had begun reading the contract he had been given to sign. Unlike Glomgold he made no changes, edits or additions, but on some parts he would pause an ask for an explanation when he didn’t understand, listening intently while Mark patiently did his best to answer. This went on for about an hour and they were interrupted only once by M'ma when she insisted they eat something, declaring it was bad to do business on an empty stomach. Mark hadn’t complained. The food had been quite good. About thirty minutes later and Fenton, looking nervous but determined, said he could agree to the terms. Part of the arrangement included shifting Fenton into Gizmoduck and signing the contract while Mark recorded everything using his cell “Neato!” Mark exclaimed once it was all finish. “All that's left is to turn this into a lawyer and get you all nice and paid.” Fenton paused and gave the briefcase a significant stare. Reading the duck’s expression he laughed. “Nope, sorry to say it, but ” Mark said shaking his head. “That's all fake, my man.” Fenton stared at the parrot like he’d grown a second head.“Why do you have a briefcase full of fake money.” “Mugger bait.” Mark said with a shrug. “They think they’re stealing a small fortune, but I’ve got a tracker in this baby, so what they’ve really won a quick trip to the slammer.” He preened for a moment, expecting praise, but drooped slightly when none was forthcoming. “I mean, why would someone have a briefcase with actual money in it? Fenton shrugged looking terribly foolish all of a sudden. "I don’t know, i guess I’ve just seen enough movies that it didn’t seem so strange.” Mark laughed. “I’ve been there, buddy.” He gave the contract a once over, then stood up stretching for a moment before retrieving his briefcase. “If this all checks through, I’m going to be wiring the money into your account later tonight.” Fenton nodded for a moment before looking him straight in the eyes. “I like to think people are mostly good, and I want to believe the only reason you’re doing this is to help the children, so…” Fenton stopped, seemingly unable to provide the words for how he felt. “So, just don’t betray that trust, okay?” Mark smiled and gave him an easygoing salute. “You have my word.” He said, before finally taking his leave of the house. He would send a copy to Tabaqui’s office and he would finally get to arguing terms of his own contract with Khan. If all went well he would be a judge. He could hardly wait.

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