[My sort-of love-letter to the Tales of Arcadia fandom.] A Jim Lake Jr., his Toby Domzalski, and his Claire Nuñez are in for a week-long ride when the three get invited to a multidimensional crossover meet-up between hundreds of different versions of themselves and their friends, family, and - surprisingly - their enemies.
Guess who’s finally posted a TOA fanfic after months of silence? >=P
Featuring obscure shipping shenanigans and absolute teenage idiocy, here’s Arcadia Oaks Across The Multiverse!
Hi. If you’re reading this, you most likely fall under one of three categories:
a) you are my Creative Non-Fiction teacher;
b) you’re one of my followers/friends who saw that I had created a writing blog and went, “Oh, cool!” then clicked out of curiosity, or I sent a link to it to you; or
c) you’re one of my classmates who clicked on the link I put in for the Google Doc that’s to be sent to our Creative Non-Fiction teacher.
If you are a), then, hi! Welcome to minimalist writing blog for the final performance task of the 11th Grade, enjoy your stay. Please don’t look through my main blog.
If you are b), then, yo, what’s up? Nice to see you here.
If you are c)... uh. Have fun.
If you are somehow none of the above, and got here through other means... may I ask just in how the hell did you get here, the tumblr tagging system is TERRIBLE and I highly doubt there are people who actually scour through tumblr for formal creative nonfiction works, when there’s a hundred other texts in much more enjoyable formats literally everywhere else. In any case, welcome to you, too. You can follow if you want, and maybe follow my main, linked in the blog description.
From September last year, I had joined the International College and Career Exposure program, which involves, of course, an airplane ride and at least two preparatory seminars.
I was excited, for the most part, because this was going to be the second out-of-country experience I’d have, and also because I’d get to meet two good Singaporean friends of mine whom I met online.. that I unfortunately never got to actually meet over the course of the trip, as sad as it is to say that. But irregardless, it was an amazing experience, and I even got to make a friend through it! A friend that I was hoping to make because I was quietly hoping to get a chance to talk to him for at least three months, slowly despairing due to my social anxiety and three failed conversation attempts, one of which involves an elevator, but that journey can be discussed beside my Singapore trip.
Since I was in HUMSS, me and the three other people from the HUMSS section Gaudium who signed up for IC2E took a journey through Singapore entirely separate from the other strands/student groups, with a few scheduled intersections, mostly for lunch and dinner. I unfortunately cannot remember the specific flow of our travels, but of note was that we stayed at a 3-star hotel (it wasn’t that great) with the rest of the IC2E participants and our trip moderators, visited Singapore’s brilliantly designed Supreme Court building that also acts as an international court hub (we got to sit in on a few court hearings), explored the National Museum of Singapore (interestingly enough had exhibits of other Asian countries, such as our own), toured through the National Design Centre near the hotel we stayed at (I wish I could have spent more time here), had some tours at a university or two (Yale and Yale-NUS, if I’m remembering correctly), shopped at the Bugis Junction and other malls (I may have spent ⅔ of my money here), and had a great time at Universal Studios Singapore! (this is where I bought my beloved Gudetama pillow).
The sights and sensations are almost a blur in my head - learning about how the Supreme Court functioned is starting to mix in with my time at the National Design Centre, which I can only blame on the similar aesthetics of both places. I think the most memorable times, though, were perhaps the bus rides. There was just so much to see, especially at night. The buildings, the infrastructures, even the roads themselves - so properly cleaned and maintained that there was barely any litter to be seen. It was just so overwhelming. I don’t think I’ll be able to forget about it all.
As for this new friend of mine, his name’s Nikko, and he’s a fellow batchmate from the STEM strand. I first noticed him at the beginning of the school year, where we passed by on the main ramps. From then on, we crossed paths a few times, once in the elevator of the condominium we both lived in where I had an entire script being repeated in my head, only to choke and fail to say a single thing before he had to leave for his floor. It was, in all honesty, not my greatest moment. Fortunately, I managed to finally work up the nerve to talk to him during the trip, having some conversations here and there with him at the hotel and the other times our paths crossed. I left an impression on him after showing him a few ketchup packets that I kept since the beginning of the trip all the way to the end in my wallet, which I stole from Burger King. He laughed, and we still have a laugh about it whenever it gets brought up. I think that was a great start to our friendship, somehow.
I find myself wondering if I gained anything substantial from this trip. I got to see so many amazing sights and architectural wonders, but never got to fulfill the promises I made to my Singaporean friends by being unable to meet them at all for the duration of the trip. Yet, despite that, I made a great new friend in Nikko, who’s given me, for once, a regular and fulfilling friendship outside of the internet. So I suppose I can say with absolute certainty that, yes, I have. I have indeed gained something from this trip, and that’s the memories I’ve made, and the friendship I have with Nikko, who I’m proud to say is one of the coolest people I’ve ever met. And that’s all there is to it.
Family Is Robbed By Old Neighbor-Turned-Drug Addict: A Literary Journalism Text
Author’s Note: Trigger warning for an in-depth narrative description of a robbery - and for the need of anonymity, names will be censored.
On February 4, 2014, the P****a family and their housemaid excluding the father, who was at work at the time, and the eldest brother, who was still to be picked up by the mother from highschool, were robbed at gunpoint by an old neighbor of theirs who had become a drug addict.
In the wake of the devastating passing of the eldest daughter of the A****i family whom the family was close with, the second and third sons return home from elementary school in solemn silence. Upon reaching their household, the mother notices a suspicious man carrying a box loitering the property, but does not consider it something to be immediately too wary of.
The three enter their home, the youngest upstairs and the housemaid waiting by the door. The second son goes to silently eat leftover spaghetti at the main dinner table, the third sitting in the lounge. The mother goes to answer the doorbell, and is greeted by the man from earlier, who claims to be a delivery man, carrying a box. The greetings are cut short when the man suddenly enters the living room and kitchen proper then asserts a robbery by taking out a gun, demanding money.
Everyone in the room was frozen. The housemaid is struck into shocked silence, standing still and unable to act. The second son has stopped eating his spaghetti and staring, horrified, at the unfolding scene, the third following suit. The youngest son, who walked downstairs moments before, quickly rushes upstairs to hide in the second floor terraces. The mother similarly is at a loss. The man, still aiming the gun, takes the mother’s phone and some few hundred pesos.
At that moment, the mother realizes that the gun being held by the robber is actually a plastic fake. She slowly walks towards him threateningly, and a struggle ensues, continuing from the house storefront up to the road outside. The elder son wields a bread knife, closely following, but is still frozen and unable to act, and frozen in inaction. The sounds of the altercation are heard by people outside, who rush to watch and, like all the others, are bound and frozen to the spot, only becoming bystanders and not doing anything to help. The robber then successfully takes off in a motorcycle, taking the phone and money but leaving behind the box and fake gun.
The second son stands outside on the road, shocked and terrified like everyone else in the situation. He then hears one of his teachers, who was nearby in the kindergarten beside the household, curse and swear. With the successive events of the day crashing down on him, he goes silent, and quietly goes back inside as the police are called and come in to investigate.
A few days later, the man was caught, and the phone and money stolen were recovered. However, the phone was formatted. It was found out that the man was a drug addict, who had resorted to robbing to gain money to fuel his addiction, formatting the phone to sell it elsewhere. He had specifically chosen the P****a family, as they were an old neighbor of his before they moved.
The second son takes in all this news at the dinner table, silent and stoic. He silently declares to himself he won’t freeze up the next time something like it happens. The parents stare at each other, worried and contemplative.
A Guy That I Was Kinda (Regrettably) Into: The Personal Narrative of a Contemplative Bisexual
You’ve read the title - you know what you’re getting into.
So. What else can I say other than: that I’m still unbearably fond of the idiot, even if he keeps an understandable distance away from me, that makes me despicably dejected and sometimes deeply resentful, the circumstances of which are all of my own making? I’m tired of it. I still want to believe we’re friends, but after it all - the emotional fallouts, the forcibly mutual withdrawing, the terrible ache of longing, the awkward and stilted greetings and exchanges, the need to keep a straight face when I see him twitch and hesitate the moment he notices my presence - I am so profoundly inclined to think otherwise, and that maybe I should just ignore him in his entirety, the goddamned buffoon. But yet, he’s still my friend. He’s still the guy that I was kinda (regrettably) into, and I still care, because that’s what a good person would do for their ex-first-love, the lack of mutual reciprocation notwithstanding.
All these words, and I still haven’t even written a name for him to be called. Let’s call him FL - he’d hate that, oh, he really would, but I think it’s cute, and I’m quite attached to the nickname. I would love to go on a prose-filled rant of our “deep and complicated history”, but for my sake and the sake of everyone else reading through this, I can say with certainty that our story can be concisely summarized as a basic lesson in what not to do when expectations don’t align with reality, and how to cope with it and the emotions that continue to roil in your chest even years after the devastating event.
We were both idiots, is what I’m saying. It was a strange thing, certainly, to fall in love with FL, of all people. He was all soft sides and no muscle, chubby cheeks and priming acne setting in with the early onset of puberty. But it was his awkward laughter, his sickeningly sweet smiles, and wide, naive eyes that raptly gave so much attention to me that drew me in, inundating me in a bath of warm, childish fantasticals and the prospect of being loved and giving love. Of course, that’s probably what all first loves would be like for a teenager. At least, for those who can actually feel romantic love. It’s intoxicating, an almost detestable part of human nature that enslaves us all by collaring us and stringing us all along by our own feelings. Some people are strong enough to take that leash and rip it off - I wasn’t one of them, unfortunately for everyone involved.
It was the most stupid and sad confession ever, done in the middle of the night on the staircase near my room through Discord of all things, with the involvement of some other old friends (Some that I have my own… histories with) that I told to about my love for FL in excruciating detail (because of course 14 year old me did). And boy, did it end in an emotional hell. The next few weeks were a cluster of shame, regret, longing, and other insufferable feelings, the effects of which still ripple to this day.
It was terrifying, most certainly. I didn’t know how to handle any of it, and I made many terrible decisions. And if I were to, once again, be asked if I would take it all back - I would. I’d give myself more constructive learning experiences that wouldn’t wreak havoc on me and my school life, and instead become the basis for learning how to become a better person - something that I’m somehow only learning to do now. And isn’t that so unbelievably sad? But what else can I say and do now, without the power to change the past, but only the future? I can look forward to that future. I can try to fix what’s become of our friendship, and perhaps make it anew. Maybe I don’t feel as strongly for him as I do now, but that’s a given. I just want him back in my life, outside of a specter that I sometimes pass by and say hi to. I just want the guy that I was kinda (regrettably) into, the guy I once knew as well as the back of my hand, as my friend again. And it’s all I’ll ever need from him now.
The Canadian Dragon: A Profile Of An Online Wordsmith
In the middle of 2018, I met an independent author online by the alias of Spectrum.
At first, I merely interacted with the fan content they put out for a mutual following we both shared - AKA a fandom. I commented on their work, praising its quality, as a typical online reader would thanks to the advent of the internet, which allowed instant and direct writer-and-reader interaction. The nature of fanwork is that it is a remix of an idea, a story and its characters, already made and published by another, and Spectrum was of the few that was masterful in that regard, capable of writing up engaging storylines with riveting prose and keen takes on characterization. Something about their craft inspired me to the point of idolization. We somehow struck up an unlikely friendship, and after countless hours of conversation (and brainstorming, even, as I got roped up into helping and proofreading for them), I realized I had stumbled upon a hidden gem - a Canadian Dragon; deeply reserved, but fiercely skilled.
Spectrum is an online author residing in Canada (raised and born), who typically writes for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Trollhunters fandoms, dabbling in Keep Your Hands off Eizouken! and more. They aren’t very eager to direct messaging with people they don’t know very well, preferring to answer asks on their Tumblr blog if they can. Though they may sometimes come off as reticent, they are enthusiastic about reader interaction, flourishing under praise, and no stranger to constructive criticism when they ask for it - an attitude developed after accumulating years of experience with peer reviews and anonymous comments.
They are a proficient writer, having developed their skill since teenagehood through years of writing stories. The way they construct their sentence and paragraph flow speaks of the experience in their field, something only seen in the works of professional authors. In their writing is the signature of a confident and talented wordweaver. To engage in their work is like gazing upon the brilliance of a dragon’s hoard, a sea of golden words and ideas that all construct a narrative in and of itself in the luminosity of the boundless depths of the works written and published.
I don’t ever regret meeting and befriending Spectrum. When we exchange ideas, it is like being alone in a massive theatre hall with them, staging and playing our own acts, where I can clap as loud as I can when they finish off yet another remarkable solo play, unfurnished but raw. Spectrum is like me, an artist dedicated to their calling. There is no doubt in my mind that if this were a fantasy world likened that to the days of old, Spectrum themself would be of the fantastic winged beasts of glory that soar and dominate the skies with their overwhelming magical prowess and power.
Tales of an Arcadian: A Reflection on Internet Fandom Culture
There’s something hilarious, thinking back on it now, how much my experiences reflect that of the first internet fandom pioneers - happily interacting with each other and the creators of the thing we follow, and in a year’s time about three different controversies occur, the love for the media soured and twisted with resentment or even strengthened in the face of the contention.
And so yes, perhaps my experiences with my first major fandom, Trollhunters (by famous director and storywriter Guillermo del Toro on Netflix), centralized in the worst-best social media blogging platform Tumblr and current hot and trending voice and text chat app Discord, were not the best. But if I were asked if I would take it all back and change things about it… okay, maybe a few things, but overall I’d happily keep most of my experiences intact. They’ve garnered me quite the friend group, after all, one I’d never let go for anything in the world. And so it is with these collected experiences that I discover some reflections: On a few things to do and not to do as a member of a fandom, especially if you are or are planning to become popular for whatever reason.
The first thing I realized was that it was honestly kind of difficult to have my voice heard on the platforms I was on. Most people just like and click away at whatever seems interesting, and then subscribe to or click to get notifications from certain notable bloggers/people, so if you don’t have cool and eye-catching content (such as art, theories, picture edits, aesthetics, etc.) to show right off the bat, people will just scroll past you. I found it easier, though, to regularly engage and exercise in interactions with others, gaining attention from them. This can be in the form of reblogs (Tumblr), replies (Twitter), or comments (fanfiction hosting sites and art sites like AO3 and DeviantArt). If you consistently show some pretty constructive comments on fanfiction, for example, those authors are more likely to respond and focus their attention on you. Just remember to be polite; I’ve seen weird roleplayers going so deep into their roleplaying that they do it outside of roleplaying zones and bizarrely - sometimes obnoxiously - interacting with non-roleplayers to the point of discomfort.
Minimize participation in any ongoing drama, and try not to be the center of drama, either. Fandom culture is quite deep and complicated nowadays, and the moral ethics of dark and dubious content is currently the hotspot of heated debate. Whether or not your opinions align with one side or another, it’s a well-known fact that you’re better off scrolling past things that don’t nudge you in a good way. Though, do be assertive when people start shoving these things at the faces of the collective, and remember to turn on your blacklists. That’s something my friend, Drew, is very fond of doing, and something I do, too. Not because I like doing it, but because I just really don't want to see that one Alpha/Beta/Omega fanfic with the longest word count rank on the fanfic length filter pop up every time I search whatever’s new in the Trollhunters label on AO3. (Don’t ask.) In the end, just tag your things appropriately with the correct labels and tell others to as well, and you should be good to go.
Find your people. These are people that align with your interests and what you want from the fandom - they can be anything, ranging from artists to fanfiction writers to aesthetic gif set editors (it’s a specialized set of content creators, bless them for gracing us with their time and photoshop skills). I found a lot of these people on a Discord server for Trollhunters, a few of them being Drew and even Spectrum (see my profile on Spectrum here). A lot of fandom experience is especially tailored through the people that one experiences fandom with. A tight-knit fandom group can encourage growth in many aspects of your person, whether that be in art, worldbuilding, or even in law. Trust me, being friends with a lawyer through Trollhunters has been… illuminating.
Don’t be afraid to wholeheartedly be you. A powerful aspect of the magnetic qualities of internet personality is in the term itself - personality. Certain people are drawn to certain others with certain traits, which helps explain why PewDiePie. (That’s it. That’s the sentence.) My enthusiasm for story and character analysis and theories drew a lot of attention, which was apparently the foundation of interest for some of the people that followed me on Tumblr. (I’m sad to say to these people that I deeply apologize for my current lack of content - without a Tales of Arcadia: Wizards trailer, I’m not motivated to do any more in-depth analyses.) It also probably helped that I’m one of the very few most vocal about a certain underappreciated character in Trollhunters, and have a lot of... let’s say “interesting” fanworks and ideas centered around him. But that’s besides the point.
To sum it up, remember to healthily engage in fandom culture to the extent that you’re comfortable with, and only with the parts and the people of the fandom that you wish to interact with, and most importantly, never be afraid to be yourself.
After all, as Blinky Galadrigal of Trollhunters once said: Destiny is a gift - some go their entire lives, living existence as a quiet desperation.
And in my words, when you are given destiny, you make of it what you can and what you will, and in that, you will find happiness and contentment.
