cultpastorkevin

[cultpastorkevin]

Go hit the gym!

[cultpastorkevin]

Dadmack or smthn .

[cultpastorkevin]

I love how the perfect court kind of haunts the narrative in aftg. How it exists in varying capacities as something tangible in numbers inked on skin and as an abstract concept that varies between persons.

Because what is the perfect court?

A childhood dream of sorts between Riko and Kevin. A chance for two lost boys to be something great, an opportunity to not be alone. And besides, what young athlete doesn't grow up wanting to go pro, to be the best? Innocent at first, until it isn't.

It's a calculated experiment by Tetsuji. A way to prove he's worth his family name, to contribute to the Moriyama empire. A way to earn his place, his keep. To be something. The creation of exy isn't enough, he needs to make invaluable assets — and using children seen as threats and throwaways to the family is the perfect use of resources.

And maybe any shred of recognition or basic respect Tetsuji gets for this, Riko yearns for. The Perfect Court becomes an obsession as he spirals deeper into desperation and rage the more he realizes it will never be enough. It becomes a source of power he can hold over people.

The Perfect Court isn't about talent. It’s about potential.

The potential of Kevin that led to the Moriyamas having Kayleigh murdered, the potential of a 10-year-old Nathaniel that was being evaluated, the potential of a 14-year-old Jean Moreau to be worth the debt his parents owed. Even the potential for Riko to be molded by his uncle into something useful to the family.

Four yakuza assets turned into exy stars solely for their potential as children with no rights to their lives or futures.

However, Andrew and Neil are proof that Kevin still believes in the childish dream of the perfect court in some way. That to him, it will always be about the game.

Kevin sought Andrew out because of the goalie's talent, not as part of some backwards deal. And how fitting it is that Andrew denies the Ravens. That whatever autonomy Andrew gained, he keeps with the decision.

Because the perfect court was never about talent, it was about control, power and prestige.

And Kevin also rediscovers Neil by chance based on skill. Neil who spent his childhood on the run obsessing over the perfect court. Neil who was angry at and jealous of Kevin despite everything. Neil who wondered if he would've been good enough if his mother didn't run with him.

Kevin somehow ends up on a team with the two unmarked numbers of the perfect court (that is, unmarked until Riko exercises what power he has over Neil). Three acts of defiance against the perfect court that lingers throughout each of their stories.

Because what happens if Andrew said yes to the Ravens? What happens if Mary never ran with Nathaniel? What happens if Kevin stayed?

Everything can be traced back to some variation of the perfect court concept, no matter how you see it. It all leads to Riko's own downfall.

And that's without taking Jean into account.

Jean fully believes in the perfect court as a measure of talent, and it's because it means he has value at least somewhere after being stripped of everything else. His life was used to pay a debt and the number on his face means he has worth.

And as he tries to find his footing to survive in a world without Riko and outside of the Nest's cruelty, the idea of the perfect court grounds him in some twisted way. Because for so long, his value was placed solely on his playing ability.

The Perfect Court is a dream, an experiment, a fallacy, a gilded cage, a ghost lingering in the doorway whispering 'you are worth something'

[cultpastorkevin]

changing my phone theme but wanted to share what it’s been since November!

#actually in love w this layout I did but im heading into my Naruto era again #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #neil josten #andrew minyard #palmetto state foxes #kandreil #i love them your honor #phone aesthetic

[cultpastorkevin]

"how can you like this objectively bad thing!" because i have bad taste. move on.

[cultpastorkevin]

Everytime i see a fanart of Neil and im just screaming in my head like.

Where are his scars??? Mutilate him!!! I don’t want to see an inch of skin without scars on him! He looks horrifying and thats the beauty of him.

Anyway it makes me mad. Dont be afraid of scarring him.

[cultpastorkevin]

hello friends!!

I'm opening preorders for new AFTG merch designs, and old designs are restocked as well! the PO period will run for around 2 weeks, and orders are expected to ship in june :D

link: https://wuzeio.bigcartel.com/

[cultpastorkevin]

aftg fandom is very dopamine depleted because it gets into discourse over the most normal and accepted statements and i just love to laugh at it any time "riko discourse happens" but it's not even a discourse it's just the same 30 people saying the same 5 lines that had already been said 10 last times the same conversation took place get yourself some new things to be offended about at this point its not even entertaining it costs no money to say nothing about the topic everyone cries about how "fanfic writers do not ask for criticism" yeah people who make content for ships you do not like do not ask for your criticisms either so fuck off and get a hobby i get why teenagers act this way but if you are older than 21 rethink your life

[cultpastorkevin]

still fighting sickness have lil Neee's i did in breaks between work telegram is struggling to collect enough likes for pic 3 so if this post gets 50 likes I'll count that as unlock too

[cultpastorkevin]

I really think the damage caused by learning jean had a sister and then 20-odd pages later finding out she's been dead for years while jean was being tortured in a cult is completely unrepairable. ill never stop thinking about them.

they never got to grow up together. she would've been 15 in tsc. hes still a teenager and she never even got to be one. this is the only universe jean didn't kill himself, so it's the only universe he learns about her fate and has to live with that knowledge. FUCK

[cultpastorkevin]

jean moreau is stronger than me bc if KEVIN DAY leaned in and whispered to ask if I could teach him my native languge when he's not watching, it could be our secret, I WOULD'VE FOLDED

[cultpastorkevin]

[cultpastorkevin]

who wore it better?? 🌈

[cultpastorkevin]

Push and Pull

[Instead of a WW for today, you all get (unfortunately only part of) a new project I started because I made myself emotional thinking about it. Thankfully it will be quite short.]

[Summary: Jean is an art major specializing in clay/pottery and goes through some introspection while working on things.]

[Enjoy!]

Jean frowned at the slab of clay sitting in front of him. He was certain that it was mocking him in its readiness to be shaped into something–anything–other than a cone, daring him to try and mold it into something else. Normally Jean handled taunting with a rough check or an even more scathing remark, but clay could not be insulted. It was literally part of the dirt. If he wasn't careful with how much water he applied to the cone, it could very easily become mud underneath his fingers. What kind of insult would be capable of hurting a clay heart? Jean knew that if he was struggling to think of an insult, that there likely were none that would be applicable.

Still, there was a peacefulness in the blank slate that the clay provided. A blank slate that he could always bring back, regardless of how many times the side of the pot caved or the clay slipped off the wheel or if he started the pot off center by accident. No matter what, he could always peel it off the wheel and start again. There was excitement in seeing what he’d be able to create out of the earth, and of seeing just how much the clay would reveal to him of its final purpose along the way. 

Jean Moreau always began his pottery projects with the same approach: by building solid walls that he could later adjust through pushing and pulling. When he’d first started making pottery he’d worried that his crooked fingers would hinder the process. That somehow, his hands would be too broken to properly shape the clay. As a result, his first pot had ended up with walls that were too thick and were uneven on top. And yet, when his professor presented the final, fired result, Jean could hardly believe that his lumpy, misshapen pot had been able to withstand its true test. 

He’d turned it over and over, searching for clues that it was a fake. He’d been convinced that there was no way that it was his project; after all, the professor had to have recreated it so that it would boost his confidence. Instead, as he’d reacquainted his hands with the clay and examined its curves and flaws, he realized that it fit perfectly in his misshapen hands. It was like holding a piece of himself─a single piece of the puzzle of his selfhood that had, until then, been lost. Then, he found the ghost of one of his fingerprints in the fired clay and all his doubts had been put to rest. 

It was still his favorite piece he’d created. It stood as proof to him that he wasn’t too broken to create something new, and on days when he doubted that fact, he would pick up the pot and turn it over once more in his hands and line his thumb up with the fingerprint.

He pulled the clay out in a bold curve, careful to stretch it in a way that would make it expand gradually, only to pinch it back in at a steeper slope. 

He’d improved with practice, of course. Soon he’d created bowls and cups and small vases. But for each project that he turned in, his professor would always say the same thing: he needed to work on making the walls thinner. But he’d refused to believe that he could handle anything thinner. He was convinced that his hands were meant for two things: hurting others, and being hurt. Already he’d proven that he could create, but convincing himself that he wouldn’t destroy something was another hurdle he had to overcome. 

It hadn’t been until his professor came to stand in front of the station where he’d been working that day and challenged him to create a bowl with a wall thinner than his pinkie. 

“But what if it folds on itself? What if it tears?” he’d asked. 

“Then you can scrape the clay off the wheel, wedge it, and start over. There’s no limit to it. You can always go back to the beginning. The clay doesn’t mind, and neither do I. As long as you lock up behind yourself when you leave the studio,” his professor had said with a shrug and a smirk.

Sure enough, he’d made the bowl too thin. It ended up tearing and folding in on itself in a pattern that almost resembled a ribbon. Jean had swallowed the defeat and followed his professor’s instructions, and the next time he’d pulled up the walls, he was almost able to maintain a consistent thickness in the walls throughout the entire bowl. 

Jean finished the vase by flaring out the top of the project, careful not to let the clay at the top of the piece get so thin that it wouldn’t be able to support its own weight. While other students in the art major program would typically get rid of the slip and any signs of the work being thrown on a wheel, Jean was careful to preserve the imperfections in the surface of his new vase. He was even more nervous to slide the wire under his project, especially given how much he liked how the vase had turned out. 

To keep his anxieties at bay, he shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and reminded himself that it was all temporary anyway. Nothing in the world is permanent, and this vase is no exception. But I can make it again, if I want to. It wouldn’t be the same, but I wouldn’t want it to be an exact replica anyway. Once he made peace with the fact that his work was only partially over, he slipped the wire through the clay as close to the base as possible, holding his breath the entire time. 

It came off the wheel cleanly, with only a thin layer left behind on the wheel that he scraped off and tossed back into the bin with the rest of the clay they used in class. Once his vase was set aside to air out for the next stage of its creation process, Jean plucked one of his projects that was nearer to completion from the shelf─a plain, relatively small tea cup─and brought it to one of the tables meant for detail work and for glazing. 

He was done with the glazing in less than thirty minutes, having picked a unique glaze that was designed to react to the firing process by changing hues and developing a melted appearance. 

Jean placed his completed project into the open kiln, whispering a quick prayer under his breath before shutting the lid. Part of him expected that each and every project of his that his professor put into the kiln wouldn’t survive the heat. And if that happened, it would take out the other projects around him as well. 

He’d told Betsy several times that he had the same fear about himself─that he would snap someday, and that it would mean that those around him would get hurt in the process.

[TO BE CONTINUED]

MASTERPOST

[cultpastorkevin]

on grieving Elodie

#jean moreau #elodie moreau #the sunshine court #tsc spoilers #aftg tsc #aftg #all for the game

[cultpastorkevin]

I am Jean Moreau. I will endure.

Just wanted to thank @korakos for sharing The Sunshine Court with us. It is everything I didn’t know I needed. ❤️‍🩹

[cultpastorkevin]

The grey area between “returned” and “donated”