In this latest article from Vocal, I dive into the wild mash-up of South Park’s boys and Ophelia’s tragic legacy — exploring what this pairing says about identity, chaos, and the darker side of “kids being kids.”
👉 Check out the full piece on Vocal, you’ll see why this isn’t just a cartoon moment, but a deeper commentary on innocence, subversion and storytelling.
How Taylor Swift’s tragic ballad echoes the enduring love story of Tweek X Craig
💬 Leave a comment: How do you think the boys of South Park reinterpret Ophelia’s myth for our era?
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If it was Liam, he would’ve shown himself by now with some loud dramatic entrance. If it was his mother, it meant that she’d finally figured out she’d been making absent payments for several years and was going to sell Harlow’s one hiding spot off to someone else. And he’d probably get fucked over by being inside.
If it happened to be anyone else, they were trying to break in and steal something.
Harlow took out the pocket knife from one of the shadily installed drawers courtesy of Raiden. It was better to avoid fire here. Just to be safe, he made sure the lighter was accessible from most positions.
The rest of the garage door’s code was finally entered and the shabby metal sheet was lifted just enough for the person to get inside. Then it dropped back down to the concrete. Something slid along the floor. Harlow sat crouched behind the counter.
Confident enough to lock themselves inside with someone completely random.
Then they turned off the light.
Okay.
Harlow shifts uncomfortably before quickly rolling out of the way of the body very obviously vaulting over the counter above his head. A crash into the cabinet doors, one of the wooden panels falling off its hinge.
He could vaguely see with the light from the crack under the garage door. The outline of someone who at least vaguely knew their shit.
The knife ended up being held in warning.
Fire pumped out from the person’s fist, forcing Harlow to dodge and move into the open space that was the rest of the generally spacious garage. Harlow cast the knife aside to some corner to instead wrench the fire from this random, careless, pyrokinetic stranger.
He threw it back at the figure, much to their bemusement.
Some angry mumbling and the person ran at Harlow, forcing him to block one of the punches spewing out fire and grab for their arm to yank them past.
The angry bumble of a person made sure to gain their footing back and instantly throw themselves into close-quarters again, where Harlow got a chance to click open his lighter and start heating it up. Which left him with one hand to weave just out of this person’s reach and behind them, kicking their back into the island counter.
A grunt escaped them with Harlow stepping back carefully over the cord connecting his controller resting on the couch to the game station.
He let out a huff when the figure whipped around, barely fazed, and went to run at him again before Harlow strung up a white spread of fire to block the way to normally walk over the cord.
They saw the white smear and moved to duck under it, effectively tripping on the cord with the controller clattering along the floor. Harlow rushed to find the handle on the garage door, failed, and ran the long way around the couch when he heard the person get up behind him.
The person ended up grabbing onto his wrist with the lighter and wrestling it out of his hand onto the floor halfway across the couch.
Harlow managed to kick them back again. It was really the only move Harlow had ever managed to find useful when sparring with Raiden. It was proving itself right again.
Some scarily familiar laughter erupted out of the person with yet another press forward at Harlow trying to gain any sort of distance.
He froze.
Harlow felt himself getting shoved against the island counter, lost in a trainwreck of thought. He probably would’ve crumpled to the floor if not being held up by the person grabbing hold of him to flatten him on top of the counter.
It hurt. The hand holding him down hurt.
The name wasn’t coming out.
“What, you’re just done now? It was finally getting…” the person went quiet when the flame sparked to life again in their still free hand.
“Rai,” Harlow weakly said.
He was quickly pulled off the counter into a standing hug, slumping into the arms that wrapped around him instead.
Harlow had been tired.
So, so tired.
“Fuck, Urb, that’s my bad. Sorry.” Raiden relaxed out of the hug and walked back to the lightswitch, flicking it on.
Harlow slowly let out a chuckle. “You’re good.”
Raiden crouched down and picked up a box from the floor, inspecting it awkwardly before turning back to Harlow with a sheepish grin. “Uh, happy twenty-three, I guess. I was planning on replacing the game station with this, use a sharpie or something…”
“Two months?” He let out some sick form of laughter. When Raiden shook their head and walked back over, laughing along with, Harlow quickly devolved back into recognizing the stupidity of what had just happened.
“Yeah,” Raiden held out the box to Harlow. “Sorry. I probably should’ve called or something. I’m a fuckin’ idiot, aren’t I?”
“Where…” Harlow decided against an instantaneous interrogation upon seeing Raiden’s stupid fucking smirk. He could do that later. “Nevermind. What the hell is that?”
Raiden’s smirk transformed into a grin. “Daffodils. Well—ones that don’t die.”
Harlow hesitantly took the box and looked at the image on it, little plastic daffodils with a piece count in the top left.
“I do have to go back to my hospital room before anyone finds out. I came down here to trade that for the game station and Flash Fire, didn’t expect you to be here. Write a little note and everything. This sounds weird, but if you’re willing to drive me, the motorcycle I took down here, and that game back I will explain everything.”
“Okay,” Harlow breathed. “But, hospital? Wouldn’t I have heard if someone found you by now? I mean⸺”
Raiden visibly winced. “No one found me. It’s why I turned the lights off, nobody is supposed to know that I’m walking about now unless they’re in the loop and everything, I didn’t really want to risk⸺”
“You said you’d explain on the road. We can talk about something else while we go get the truck?”
They waited a second before rolling their eyes.
“I ended up with a lot of time to think in my cell, thing,” Raiden relented in the driver’s seat, tapping the steering wheel. “Storm ended up making a lot of sense. Apparently the cell block division I was in was just a test for Storm ops, but apparently Nacht hurts a fuck ton, so now they’re refusing to let me do anything until I’m cleared.”
“But you can’t tell anyone that you’re… not imprisoned anymore?” Harlow was trying to focus on everything he was being told. It wasn’t working the greatest.
Raiden let out a playful huff. “Nope. It’d get kinda weird, anyway. I know Cinder’s gonna find out eventually and everything, but if you could not tell anyone for at least a while, it’d do me a big favor. Along with not sharing the whole Storm hospital thing.”
“Right.”
The rest of the ride was kept in silence, stars out in the sky by the time they’d parked in front of what was, in fact, a legitimate-looking hospital.
When the truck stopped, Raiden didn’t immediately hop out. Instead, they looked at Harlow sitting anxiously in the passenger. “Hey I’m, sorry I couldn’t make your birthday any, better. And also that I have to go, and that I threw all of this on you.”
“You’re good, Rai,” Harlow said. “One of my best yet, all be as it may.”
Another few seconds of unspoken words.
“Urb, I think you should join Storm.”
archive masterlist | masterlist
/ / / / / | ---
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i'm not entirely sure how i'm feeling about this fight scene. this is the last chapter i have backlogged, so i should probably get on writing some more.
also i know the header lost a lot of its details but it feels like a little much in its complete version (which you can find on the masterlist).
any feedback on the fight, positive or negative, is welcome on this post.
Alph idly ran their hand along the unfamiliar motorcycle that they’d been given to avoid drawing suspicion with the cars actually under their name. Which, sucked. Alph sort of wanted to just lie back in their truckbed for a while out near some park and think.
The option, as a missing persons, was definitely not available.
So here they were, staring at a traffic light to turn green. Wishing they had more than a smartwatch to talk to.
That was a lie. Nobody knew Alph was even out here right now. If they used the smartwatch, their location would get pinged, they’d be questioned, and they would end up bored in their hospital room again. Throwing a ball at the wall or something.
Something like that.
Alph started up again when the light finally switched. They had one goal, and one goal alone, which was to nab the copy of Flash Fire and their game system from the garage and take it back to their room.
They’d tell Urban later.
Speaking of…
Alph pulled to the side of the road before taking out their phone and waiting the minute or so for it to power on completely to check the date. All they remembered was that someone mentioned it was November. Which meant Alph kept really bad time in their cell.
Really bad time, Alph cringed. Motherfucker.
Alph had missed turkey. Skated four days past it, big exclamation points all over their phone calendar. They could still see the post-it notes probably covering their bedroom wall.
NOVEMBER 27 (!!!!!!!)
URBAN (SUPER IMPORTANT DO NOT FORGET)
Someone honked at Alph as they whizzed by, snapping Alph out of their trance to pocket the phone and start rolling again.
That, sucked. A lot. If not for the no-text no-call stuff, Alph would be all for calling him up. Talking about anything for three hours while the sky turned dark. Falling asleep in the middle of fuck nowhere, going back to normal…
No. Alph shook off the urge to shake their head. Going back to normal isn’t worth it. There are things that need to be done.
Alph had too many things to think about.
Missing Urban’s birthday. Being stuck doing nothing until they were told to do something. Getting to know someone who wasn’t just their uncle. Convincing Urban this was the right thing to do. Getting a game to play during their downtime. Becoming someone actually worthy of A-class pyrokinetics. Missing Urban’s⸺ Oh, fuck it.
Alph would take one detour. One. Something to leave at the garage in place of Flash Fire.
They had money, right?
Yeah. Yeah, the, card. Not their Alph debit card. The R.W. one that they were given a few days ago with the rest of their stuff. Nobody should care too much. It’d probably be more understandable.
It would definitely ping Alph outside of their room, but that was a small price to pay.
Alph had ended up getting a box of those buildable plastic flowers.
They went straight to the garage after, only realizing as they were carrying the box while driving how difficult it would be to bring the game station and the copy of Flash Fire back.
A truck would’ve made this so much easier.
Alph turned the motorcycle off after pulling up next to the garage, hearing the sound effects of a game as they hit one of the electronic lock buttons to put in the code.
The sound effects stopped after Alph pressed the button. They heard the fight music that still played on the pause screen. Raiden fight.
Alph put down the box of plastic flowers yet to be built.
The music turned off.
Who the hell was in their garage?
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well well well, be it the return of alph in the present day? ask to be added/removed from the tag list at any time.
almost freaked out because i wasn't able to copy/paste my tags anymore--just separated each phrase with a comma on my doc and pasted it into the tags and worked like a charm.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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I just need to rest from “the condition i have”
And, today I woke up at 7:10 pm
Then i just went to get some, and got some
And went back home, i sang some songs twisting the words for “Jesus” and marking a song just that fits himself story telling “in the book “
Like video games” lana” is saying :heaven is a place on earth for him, for Jesus, tell him all the things you want to do, you know that he likes the bad sheep’s honey is that true? The world was build for 2 mother Mary and himself so?
Then i was twisting all the words to “adapt them”to the sotry of the book “antes by Obi b” antes del libro cerrar te dire que no me gusto su final”
Yeah some other songs, I actually liked too: and i twisted them, cuz you don’t have to be double minded to think “open mind” about Jesus and his plans, and therefore, I dance and smoke cigarettes as well, while singing on a rocking chair, why?
Because life’s too short to even care at all,
-young the giant said that “very clearly”
Then yeah, i got inside my house, and i check if there’s food, at 10:00 pm then i ate, my bones were too hurt, by raising my hand to eat an apple, then i rejected the food, but ate 3 spoons, then I CAME upstairs and “ive been chatting and texting friends nd family” keeping up with the feed and commenting on some fan’s pages about my feelings concerning to the men i loved, the amazing “sm” from whom i have a tatto he signs and gave permisión for me to have, over a “online broadcast” he sing the cámara, and also previews he blew a kiss” that was for me too, hahaha in the concert he blew another kiss i was paralaized. Like a dinosaurs i put my hands, then yeah, ahahha!
I showed my tatto, because i have the same “rash” over the tatto after i got it my skin ain’t the same, similar to a picture i have of “this guy tattoes’”i shared them to them friends from the game”
But i need to find a cure, for skin problems, need appointment to dermatologist and “soon i will find a cure”
Yet, right now I just want to “see this movie”
Planet 51
Plante 41 more likely for me to say, i don’t like the number 51- and up because a person i dislike thats exactly his ugly number age, the 50’s year old fake ass dude, then yeah, so i called it planet 89 right?
Ight , I AM GOING to continue watching and telling you guys my re-view later, when i can “share”
.@StoryCorps opens in Yuma! Be sure to schedule your opportunity to record a conversation with someone during a #StoryCorpsMobileTour interview. Thanks to @historiccoronadoyuma @yumaartcenter @cityofyumaaz and others for your help welcoming the @storycorps team to Yuma! #stoytelling #oralhistory #conversation #family @libraryof_congress @npr #publicradio #saveourstations (at Yuma Art Center) https://www.instagram.com/p/B5Lpn0ZpDdO/?igshid=gtwwupayxo9t
