#I think this is the winner for 'positivity art I most needed to hear myself'

[featheredadora]

Whatever you’ve been through, or however lost from yourself you might feel, you’re still you

#this one means a lot to me personally #I think this is the winner for 'positivity art I most needed to hear myself' #art #positivity #birblr #positivity art #bird art #birblr art #budgie #self worth #I drew this because I heard this line in a cartoon show called Centaurworld and it straight up made me cry

[funkymbtifiction]

Types that desire control over public persona?

I saw an interesting post on social media the other day in which an artist was talking about unsolicited critiques. In a nutshell, the artist seemed to feel that unless a comment was 100% positive it should not be posted because unsolicited suggestions (such as comments on work-in-progress images) were (even if stated with kindness) violations of the artist’s boundaries and could trigger insecurity, anxiety, etc. The artist said if they wanted suggestions they would ask for them, and further said that unsolicited comments do not lead to artistic improvements (implying that artists either ignore them or are unable to implement them).

On the one hand, being a VERY sensitive person myself, easily made anxious about the flaws in my own work (I remember comments made by well-meaning relatives that hurt for a long time), I definitely understand this point of view. 

But on the other hand, such a determined policing of what other people are allowed to say seems “wrong” to me. Why not at least be open to their thoughts, as long as they are polite and don’t insist that you “fix” your art to make them happy? I understand preferring to get criticism from a trusted source (I always turn to close friends whenever I need a fresh eye) but still, it doesn’t seem healthy to be unable to take any kind of criticism without becoming significantly depressed.

In a similar vein, sometimes I see people posting things like “If you like/support X then I insist that you unfollow me!” As a Fi-dom my “things I believe are morally wrong” list is quite long so I get that feeling, but I can’t imagine asking anyone to prove they have a right to merely LOOK at anything on a public forum. Again, it feels like a desire to control other people and how they relate to your public persona, which seems pointless to me - I’d rather just try to be as authentic as possible and let them think what they like.

That said, I never offer unsolicited advice to anyone - I’m too afraid of conflict and of hurting them. Heck, even if they ask I’m very, very gentle!

Do you think this might be an P vs J thing? P wanting to keep discussion open and J wanting to focus on what is socially “right”? (The original post felt like an “I need to educate you about good behavior” kind of moment.).

Thank you for your thoughts (and my apologies for being long - I tried to cut it down!)! I hope you had a good weekend and have a great start to your week!

When you share what you create on a public forum of any kind, you open yourself up to criticism. That is unavoidable. By making yourself into a “public figure” and seeking “fame” through what you do, you gain unsolicited critiques. This is part of “fame,” and if you cannot handle it, you shouldn’t seek fame.

I’m not a fan of unsolicited critiques, because it’s rude and most of the time comes down to a personal opinion (not a ‘constructive’ critique) or does not need said. A good artist who works hard to get better is going to figure out how to fix a problem in their art without your help.

However… criticism is how you learn. You can never get better without being willing to consider criticism. I deal with writers a LOT, so I’ll focus on that: the writers who listen to an editor or beta readers improve and become even better. The writers who get defensive and refuse to accept criticism stagnate and never progress pass “basic levels” of talent. So if you are serious about your art, whatever it is, learn to accept criticism as a tool to “help me get better.”

A good artist improves by listening to criticism and deciding if it is valid or a mere opinion. Let’s say an artist is really good, but can’t draw hands well. Someone points it out. The artist can either get defensive, insist they cannot draw hands, and ignore it, thus ensuring that 10 years from now, their hands will still look bad, or they can spend a month drawing nothing but hands until they improve through deliberate practice. Then, their overall art is improved, because they accepted the fact that, “Yeah, hands are hard for me. But I can work on that.”

To some extent, this attitude of “don’t criticize me” comes from the “we are all winners” movement. If you show up, you get a trophy so you don’t feel bad about not winning the soccer match. This, unfortunately, sets up unrealistic expectations about everyone’s “talent” and how the world is going to treat you. The real world does not pull punches. If you cannot take casual criticism as an amateur, you will either never become a “professional” (because your art never improves and you get to known for your “attitude” about criticism) or your first REAL harsh critique will destroy you.

Feeling dominants struggle the most with being unable to handle criticism. Thinkers see criticism for what it is – a tool to help me improve. They are way less sensitive. As a feeler, the only way to grow a thicker skin is to practice taking criticism, remind yourself it’s not about your self-worth, and learn to judge whether this criticism is a point of view or something simple you can learn to improve your art quality (by using your thinking function instead of just going off your emotional reaction to it). Just as an example, I once had a “critique” that said: “Good idea, poorly executed.” That was it. That was not constructive criticism, even though it hurt, because it told me nothing. It could not point out a way to improve it. It was a case of “I didn’t like it.” Criticism like that isn’t worth paying attention to, because there’s nothing “wrong” they can point out. But “Your manuscript is full of annoying partial sentences; read it out loud and you’ll see what I mean” was a life-changing use of constructive criticism.

Now, on to your actual question.

The first instance (don’t offer unsolicited criticism) sounds like Fe, because you are right, it’s educating total strangers on proper online behavior and how to treat artists in general rather than being, “I don’t want your critiques, stop doing it to me” (and then the Fi artist turns off the comments, since my art only matters to me anyway; but the Fe just wants everyone to have a positive online experience and to hear praise).

But the second – “If you like/support X, unfollow me!” is pure (unhealthy) Fi-dom thinking. Why? I do not like it, therefore it is evil, therefore you are evil to like it, and I insist you f**k off. You are so awful, you aren’t even allowed to see what I create! It’s making a harsh judgment about people (without Ti wondering ��why you feel this way or like this; what merit does it hold for you?”) based on one’s subjective feelings about a topic (my own hatred for it - Fi), and trying to “control” who has access to your public material by demanding people who don’t align with your politics/fandom opinions/etc do not engage with your art.

This isn’t how the world works. Again, if you put it out there, anyone can access it, read it, see it, save it, use it, talk about it, or critique it. That’s just the way the real world works. If you don’t want people you disapprove of on a “moral” level looking at it, then you can’t share it publicly.

#question #mbti #submission

[snakeningel]

not to be starting homestuck race disk horse in 2019 but yknow what? I Will.

being an asian fan in the hs fandom is kinda, not great actually. in fact, it not only feels like we’re not here at all, that we’re erased, but its honestly? downright harmful. people treat the trivialization and fetishization of your culture to be,,, like a Big Joak. yall joke about weebs like these people havent been literally grooming and abusing asian girls, like we havent been made fun of enough for Their actions, like we aren't already viewed as the strange punchlines to jokes that still seem somehow acceptable. its somehow funny to joke about how you hate every sign of asian culture that shows up throughout the comics, like how dirk’s kotatsu was dumb and pretentious as if people in japan dont literally live with one and use it every single day!

even asian-coding in characters get swept away in favour of other headcanons. even the megidos, who are as close to canonically asian as they possibly can be in a medium like homestuck, are often drawn white or something completely different altogether. the stridlondes are also heavily asian-coded, and the fans who do pick up on that, who finally feel comforted by someone like them as protagonists? they often just.. give up on that, because they see so little representation in the fandom. (theres only like one popular artist i know of that draws the strilondes asian? but like, hats off to u pal, youre fighting the good fight). also, it seems strange, to be represented so little considering almost 3 billion people on earth is asian, which is, Quite A Lot to be not represented a lot. dont get me wrong, i adore the outpouring of more diverse art of the kids, but a hard truth to swallow is that pocs being weebs/fetishizing asian culture, is just as harmful as white people doing the same. there is a world of difference between japanese dirk, trying to interface with his lost culture by clinging to the most performative and popular parts of it, than another dirk, appropriating people’s cultures because he thinks its funny or interesting based off a show he watched once. i love how people are like "wow the striders like anime and care about traditions and use japanese words and overall just seem like diaspora kids" and the conclusion they draw from that is "clearly,, they cannot be asian" bc a non-asian person being interested in those things is better than an asian person whose interested in their own culture i guess??

in fact, a lot of these narratives are so much more interesting once theyre looked at through their coded lenses!

Dave’s struggle with coming to terms with his emotions strikes such an interesting chord when the striders’ concept of irony and never showing their emotions Correspond so well to the idea of honour/face, where youre not supposed to show that youre Ever Sad or anything that isnt a positive emotion because it shows that youre a Failure and You Failed and that makes you a Bad Person, which is exactly what dave struggles with because hes So Guilty about it, which ties to the guilt and shame a lot of asian people feel about not being able to live up to impossible standards set by their parents, which is another theme we see reflected in all four strilondes. 

rose’s strained relations with her mother are mirrored in so many of our second-generation lives and makes so much more cultural sense when looked at that way. the weird distance you hold from your parents, where you cant look each other in the eyes anymore, because every interaction feels more like a business transaction. you hand in your good grades and praise from teachers, talking about how mature you are, and they return with some present or gift that you don't really want. you dont know anything about them, and they dont know anything about you, Not the person you Actually Are, anyways. but there is a yearning, to be close, to know eachother, but you only feel it in return when its too late. as well as her Obsession to be mature, to be smart and adult-like because thats what shes praised for, because you Need to be academically the best always and that means reading dictionaries until the sun goes down, repeating each word until they are engraved into your mind. always finding competition, subtle or not, because if you are not the winner, what are you?  dirk’s wild performative love of japanese culture (which also, in turn, lead to non-asian fans literally trashing it like it was a funny joke to call someone’s culture lame and stupid) seems like ‘ironic’ weebism, but its also being Exactly the type of over-the-too performative reclaiming of our culture that so many asian diaspora kids do when they’re teens! they feel bad about pushing away their culture as youth, but they’re not quite mature enough to actually care about the rich history and ‘boring’ parts, so they cling to pop culture, to social media and something so much more easily consumable, like anime. which is not even to mention the idea of him trying desperately to connect to a culture that he has never grown up in, but still belonged to by consuming mass amounts of media, being Such an immigrant story. as well as his massive competitive streak and need to make other people as good as he is (but not better), is the type of internalized pressure that a lot of asian kids feel as well. 

and all the stridlondes have various anxieties about not performing well enough, of not living up to a standard that they have set for themselves, feeling like even a single step back or even one mistake is a catastrophic failure that’s branded to you for life. Which is just as much of a mental health thing as it is like,,, an asian thing

this is getting really long so im cutting myself off here but please if you want to hear more about my Thoughts and Hot Takes feel free to shoot me an ask. 

in conclusion: please treat asian people better hs fandom i literally beg you. like,, im Not tryna make waves but,, asian erasure in fandom is a huge issue and no one ever talks abt it!! dont trivialize, fetishize and erase cultures blease  big thanks to @ernikerr and @wyndryga for encouraging me to go Off and helping to write this.

anyone please feel free to rb but non-asian people please watch your mouth

#homestuck #dirk strider #dave strider #rose lalonde #roxy lalonde #strilondes #asian american #hs #pesterquest #hiveswap #aradia megido #damara megido #homestuck 2 #text post #jae rambles #hs meta #homestuck meta

[codenamesazanka]

A meta about Dabi! I surprise myself; but HUGE DISCLAIMER: Dabi is still not a favorite character at all, and I am biased as hell. This is my interpretation of events. I will not be reading his behavior as if he is without doubt Touya Todoroki - that’s not at all confirmed - and so I will be less sympathetic due to not coming from that perspective. Also, extremely long meta. 

First up: I’ll take Dabi for his word that he doesn’t gave a crap about the League. 

I’m not saying he absolutely does not have a single milligram of care for the League - he does seem to rely on and intend for them to provide support for his goal; but he’s very much detached from everyone else, and haven’t demonstrated much empathy for any member of the League. Not quite part of the ‘Found Family’. 

It’s very possible that he could be lying, trying look tough in front of the Hero. 

But the evidence from the past chapters kinda shows that he means his words. Here’s him burning away Twice clones and barely avoid hitting Real!Twice:

“He never actually hit Twice,” “He had no choice cuz Hawks was right there,’ ‘He knew those aren’t the real Twice, and what do you expect? He’s a villain, and he expects his teammates to take care of themselves.”(*1)

All fair! Still, I’ll say this attack is pretty careless; and moreover, it took away some of their much needed manpower. Two Twice clones could’ve created four more Twices and so on; and at the very least might have interfered with Hawks targeting the real Twice. 

And here’s him attacking Hawks in a way that would’ve burned Twice badly. 

Images are out of order, my apologies, but these panels show that 1) Dabi had really intended to hit Hawks (and Twice), what with him being shocked that Hawks had been able to evade the attack; 2) Dabi’s fire output was very strong, and so 3) as Hawks points out, he nearly burned up Twice. 

Even if he thought that Hawks would protect Twice, that’s still quite a risky move that would’ve badly injure a fellow League Member. 

Here’s a comparison of Dabi and Mr. Compress during the battle in Deika:

In the first image, after Mr. Compress ask for help, Dabi dismisses him. Sure, he does point out the Twice clones shortly after, but it cold enough that Mr. Compress even asks, ‘Are you so unfeeling?!’. 

Meanwhile, when it’s Dabi in danger, Mr. Compress is concerned for him, wishes to help, and yeah, that ‘Poor Dabi!’ 

All throughout My Villain Academia, he’s been pretty rude and aloof from everyone:

Refusing to help fight Gigantomachia (to go recruit a Hero that he never trusted in the first place) when everyone is ready to eat cold dirt for a month and a half with Shigaraki. 

And:

Dismissing everyone’s effort, and insulting them. 

In fact, in comparison to everyone else in the League, Dabi is really lacking. We all know Twice is a total sweetheart who would do anything for the League; Spinner is canonically in love with Shigaraki explicitly stated that his goal is to help Shigaraki realize his vision (Chapter 233). Toga showed her care for Twice during the Overhaul mess (Chapter 148). And Mr. Compress, again, was worried for Dabi (Chapter 230), wanted the Doc to help Shigaraki (238), and is in general genial towards his teammates. 

I think, overall, narratively in both writing and visuals, Dabi is written to be rather unlikeable to the reader (or at least neutral). 

My Villain Academia is the arc where the League are the protagonists, the Point-of-View characters: we hear their thoughts, and we learn their backstories.

A huge messy image! I’m sorry! But from the silly faces, to the little actions (Mr. Compress whispering, complete with ‘psst psst’), to the asides (Mr Compress, again, “Where did you pull that phone out of?”), these give us a bit of funny moments that kinda endears the League to us. (Even Giran gets a moment or two.)

Not quite Dabi though. We get a glimpse of his thoughts at the beginning of Chapter 228 when he encounters Geten, we have some interactions with Twice that are humorous (though it’s Twice carrying out the majority of it), and... that’s it. 

“What about Mr. Compress? We got no backstory.”; “What about Toga? We don’t really hear her thoughts either?” Yes to all those points, but these were made up for: as shown above, Mr. Compress having those little moments; and Toga, who already demonstrated her care for Twice in the Overhaul Arc, and we’re reminded of that directly when Twice brings out the handkerchief she gave him. 

There, of course, is that moment that he goes to attack Hawks and help Twice in Chapters 264-266. Good of him, right? Heroic, even. 

Except that 'rescue’ doesn’t really give it a feeling of ‘The Calvary Has Arrived!’. IMO. For one thing, he almost burned Twice. For another, the reaction from Twice is more desperate than relief or joy. Compare with Toga and Mr. Compress’s clear utter joy at being saved by Twice. 

(And no could forget those amazing spreads of Twice overcoming his trauma and unleashing Sad Man’s Parade? Those evokes such a feeling of “THE CALVARY IS HERE”, omg. Dabi’s flame entrance is not quite. *To me* )

I would even go as far to say as Dabi is being portrayed as a possible “third party” antagonist. 

Yes, the League are already the main antagonists in the overall story, but they’re quite sympathetic-- Dabi, in relation to the League, although being a member, is the odd one out in many aspects. 

I think the recent chapters with Twice and Hawks and Dabi illustrates this really well-- Because we go from [Twice vs Hawks] with Hawks as the POV ‘bad guy’; and now we have [Hawks vs Dabi], Dabi as the bad guy. The story writing and the art shifts immediately to portray that, aimed at directing our empathy, at the character Horikoshi wants us to root for. 

In Chapter 264 and 265, no doubt we’re to root for Twice. All those flashbacks! Him cowering on the ground. His heart breaking because he trusted Hawks. We feel for him. And so Hawks is portrayed as the ‘Villain’-- but not completely. 

For Hawks, we go from dark and menacing, him being looming and scary...then immediately move to seeing Hawks expression of remorse. Horikoshi wants us to understand Hawks is conflicted. And he’s not doing this for fun. And finally, they’re shown as equals in the fight: Twice and Hawk’s faces aligned at even levels. 

Chapter 266, we finally have the three together. Most definitely, Dabi is on Twice’s side - but like I said, it’s not actually showing Dabi as a reliable backup. 

Then we get to Chapter 267. We first start off with that cute image if the Fataxi. It’s adorable. Then Tokoyami notices the flames, the flying, putting two and two together. This positions them as sorta the main focus. We’re back in the Heroes’ POV. 

Moving onto the fight, I do sense anger from Dabi: the flames, the stomping, the stomping flames. But it’s more portrayed as manic, sadistic anger, instead of grief, vengeful anger. And that smile! 

It’s a true villain smile. The stretching of the corners of the mouth, and the way the eyes are curved. Joyful smiles tightens up the eyes. And sure, you can have a contradictory smile while angry and in grief, a grimace, but there’s other things to cue at that - tears, sweat drops, the eyes again - usually big and triangular. 

Do I think it’s possible he’s smiling contradictory? That he’s feeling real sadness and anger at Twice’s death? Yeah, it’s possible. But it’s also possible he isn’t - and I feel that’s the more likely option, given all he says about Twice being useful and about Stain’s philosophy (*remember Stain didn’t like Shigaraki! he didn’t like Villains either. He was going to purge the world of both.) 

Anyways, Hawks is right there, on the ground, trying to shield himself. It’s a pitiful look. He’s clearly drawn as the victim we’re to emphasize with, because this doesn’t look like a fight between equals. Just one guy playing with the other, having the ability to incinerate him immediately, but dragging it out.

(True, Dabi’s a villain, and-- “Didn’t Shigaraki do the same thing? With Overhaul? Dude chopped off limbs and laughed.” Yes! Absolutely. But Chapter 160 was from the League’s POV, and everything about it was to position the League as winners, badasses, ‘The Next’.)

(My god, we even get a Baby Hawks flashback for us to fawn over.) 

Here, it’s Hawk’s POV and Dabi is full Villain imagery. Hawks has to looking up from a protective pose - at a very menacing Dabi, looming over, stepping on him. The panels with the outside fighting and the city, linked with Dabi smiling - that’s classic {‘I’m going to target and hurt the world’ evil mastermind monologue, insert evil laughter}. 

Once Tokoyami enters the scene, there’s no more argument. A likeable Hero student? Arriving to protect his mentor? He’s the clear Hero we’re to cheer for, against Dabi, (who we never even get to bond with during MVA... unlike Twice). 

All in All, Dabi rejects the Heroes... and he also rejects the League. 

The thing that confuses me most about this whole arc so far is “Why the fuck did Dabi recruit Hawks?” He said he knew Hawks was lying from the start, but he still let a Hero into the club. Moreover, if Dabi noticed and knew enough to guess where Twice and Hawks is the moment the Hero attack started; if he knew enough to even think “This isn’t your fault, Twice,” then why didn’t Dabi do anything sooner?

We don’t know his specific goal yet. Did Hawks factor into it in an important way? He’s willing to kill Hawks right now. It could be that Hawks, by now, is more dangerous than he is worth as a trap for the heroes, say, so it’s time to cut some losses. 

But Hawks had pretty much only brought bad luck for Villains: Made Endeavor look good; found out about the MLA and discovered their plot; discovered the hospital; set up this attack. None of it furthers Dabi’s stated goal to Kill All Heroes, and none of it helps the League either.

Until we get his gameplan, I can honestly regard him as dumb. What is this series of events???

(Even if the other League Members were to be dumb and fuck up like Dabi, we know they did it with good intentions for Shigaraki, for the League. 

Toga, doing risky things: Literally said, “I’m sure [retrieving Deku’s blood, betraying the Hassaikai] will make Tomura happy.” 

Twice, the sweetheart: recruited Overhaul cuz he thought he was a good guy. Befriended Hawks because he thought Hawks believed in the cause.  

Mr. Compress: Kinda ruined the ‘kidnap Bakugou’ thing; but since then he hasn’t done anything. And we’re sure of his sincerity because: Lost an arm, still stayed with the League, fought for a month+ with a broken prosthetic.

Spinner: Was a Stain fanboy, but has stopped.) 

“This isn’t your fault, Twice,” and it’s true. It’s not Twice’s fault at all. It’s Dabi’s. The blame has to be on Dabi. 

-

So. Dabi. Looking more and more to be on neither side, and now having wronged both. What’s gonna happen to him? 

Not sure, but I’ve got a theory he might actually be killed by Shigaraki, to develop Shigaraki and the League. But that’s for another post. 

-

(*1) “...what do you expect? He’s a villain, and he expects his teammates to take care of themselves.” Also true. And I am aware that Shigaraki did the same thing when he decayed that tower no knowing whether Giran got rescued yet or not, so there was some callousness there. But consider: one guy had been so sleep-deprived for one and a half months that he had hallucinated slightly and was wobbling with each movement; and the other has not. 

-

All this is my opinion and impressions. Sorry if it’s unclear at points. Thanks for reading!!!!! And thank you so much to friends that helped me brainstorm and discuss this! Your contributions are invaluable. 

#Dabi #League of Villains #bnha #mha #meta #nalslastworkingbraincell

[feverinfeveroutfic]

chapter fourteen: in the light

“and if you feel that you can't go on, and your will's sinkin' low, just believe, and you can't go wrong. in the light you will find the road. you will find the road.” -”in the light”, led zeppelin

Even through the reflection of the mirror, Sam could watch Stormtroopers of Death go forth on the stage out there: Joey had angled it so the glass could catch the sight of Scott and Dan at the forefront, right behind Billy; she could only see the crown of Charlie's head right behind the drum kit. Compared to the studio space, they had such a big and even violent sound, one laced with such dirty distortion and also a great deal of groove courtesy of Dan's fast bass.

Joey himself lingered right outside of the door, out of sight of the mirror so she could see them. Every so often, he poked his head into the room to check on her.

“How's your ankle doing?” he asked her at one point.

“Hurts,” Sam groaned, to which she leaned forward to caress the lower part of her leg. “But it's not like it's shattered or anything, though. It's gonna be sore in the morning for sure.”

“Oh, yeah,” he replied as he adjusted the lapels of his little leather jacket. It wasn't even that cold that evening and yet he stood there at the doorway wearing a leather jacket as if the snow was about to fall over the New York skyline. “That's sump'n you don't walk away from without a li'l bitta soreness.”

He turned his head to look out to the audience.

Billy said something and yet she couldn't exactly hear him from the door nearby there. Joey returned to her with his eyebrows raised, and he ambled across the floor towards her.

“What's up?” she asked him as he crouched down next to her. Stray black curls sprawled down over his shoulder as he rested his elbow up on the edge of the foot stool.

“I've been thinkin' just now,” he started, and he adjusted the lapels of his jacket yet again. He shivered a little bit even though it was comfortable in that room. “I was thinking that if Metallica play here again—and I dunno, but I'm sure they will, we should all go an' see 'em. You know—the bunch of us. You, Frankie, Charlie, Scott, Aurora, Marla, and myself.”

“Oh, yeah. You guys are really starting to feel like friends to me as of late. We all could consider it a full fledged group date!”

He snickered.

“Funny you say that, though, 'cause I'd be like the third wheel,” he confessed in a low enough voice; the word “wheel” drowned out at the huge thump of Charlie's kick drum. Joey lunged back to shut the door a little bit, and he returned to her, once again in a crouching position.

“I'd be the third wheel for you guys,” he repeated as Stormtroopers of Death started up yet again: hard, fast, loud, and without a care in the world regarding their terse lyrics.

“How so?” Sam adjusted her weight in the seat and shuffled her foot atop the cushion. “It's not like Frankie and I are dating each other.”

“So far, I'm the swingin' bachelor,” he said, “so far, anyways.”

“Again, Frankie and I aren't dating each other,” she insisted.

“So far, anyways,” he repeated.

“Oh, come on—I doubt Frankie would wanna go out with me.”

“Give it time, though. One time, my best friend in school started hangin' out with a girl, and he swore they were just friends. They're getting married in May.”

“Yeah, but he's totally different compared to Frankie, though,” she pointed out. “At least I hope he is.”

“He was a hockey player—,” he explained with a clearing of his throat, “—a guy I played with on my first team. Frankie's a baseball player. Tomato, to- mahto, for sure, but not much different to each other, though.”

“So you're considering me and Frankie as together?” she scoffed as she folded her arms over her chest.

“Not really,” he quipped with another clearing of his throat. “You guys are like a kind of a, uh—I wanna call an 'in between' sorta thing. You're considered friends but you're also en route to a relationship of sorts. One time I was in that spot, right when I first started out playin' hockey.”

“What happened with that?”

“She moved away,” he said with a straight face.

“Did you feel anything more with her?” she asked her.

“Yeah, but it fell away once I got my tootsies onto the ice.”

“Something tells me you've got lots of stories pertaining to hockey,” she noted as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“I do, yeah. If we get a chance in a room that's quiet and a lot more homely, I'll tell ya more.” He flashed her a wink and a lopsided smile. Sam gazed into his large brown eyes. She hoped he was wrong about her and Frank because she could sense it with him. She could sense it even more when she thought about Aurora's claim that he had his eye on her back in the rehearsal space.

“I came here,” she started as Dan slapped the bass strings out in the other room, “as a California girl not knowing what to expect out of the East Coast, and yet it all seemed to happen like it was supposed to. It almost feels like something out of a story book, or a tall tale.”

“It's like you're supposed to be here right now,” Joey added. “Like you're actually supposed to be here right now. You're supposed to be here in New York.” She looked down at his elbow, which he rested with about an inch of clearance from her knee. He could look right at the inside of her thigh.

“Supposed to be here and kick ass with the whole art thing,” he continued, and then he knitted his eyebrows together. “How's that comin' along, by the way?”

“I've got a bit more I have to do and then I have to turn it in to the admissions office,” she explained.

“I'm guessin' there's a deadline in there somewhere.”

“Yeah—coming up here, so I have to get on it once we get home from Stormtroopers here.”

“And you've got a paycheck coming along with them, too!” Joey's face lit up.

“That's right! Something to help me out until I get my grant. I hope I get my grant, anyways.”

“You will get your grant,” he promised her. “You will in fact get your grant. I dunno how that whole thing works, but I know you'll get it.”

“I have to turn in the journal to admissions and then some committee decides my fate for me. If I'm approved, it'll go through this whole process to make sure I get a grant to help pay for school as well as my rent and fares for the subway.”

“Wow.” Joey gaped at her. “So it's like an art contest of sorts.”

“Yes, yes!” She snapped her fingers. “That's exactly what it's like. It's an art contest, except the winner gets into art school and gets a bunch of money to help pay for it. And the judges are brutal, too. So it's because of that, I'm truly not sure if I'll get it or not.”

“I do have faith in it, though,” Joey persisted. “And I'm a little bit curious, too.”

“Curious about the art in the journal?” she asked him.

“Yeah. When the guys are done here, I wanna see your journal—” The door behind him moved open, and Sam lifted her head for a look at Aurora's head there.

“There you guys are!” she declared. “Marla and I were just looking for you both—” She stopped in her tracks at the sight of Sam's leg up on the foot stool. “—what happened?”

“I tripped,” Sam said as Aurora scurried into the room.

“I'm takin' care of her,” Joey added as he stood to his feet and hung next to the side of the chair.

“So you missed the whole show?” Aurora's face fell.

“No, Joey set up a mirror over there to make sure I could see,” Sam explained with a gesture to the other side of the room. Aurora turned her head and followed her gesture, and she brought a hand to her chest.

“Oh, good! Kind of worried me there for a second.” She returned to Sam and Joey. “You should be getting your paycheck in about a week or so.”

“Me?” Sam asked her, to which Aurora nodded her head.

“Yeah, keep an eye on your bank account.” She brought her attention to Joey. “And you probably should, too.”

He glanced down at Sam with a twinkle in his eye.

“We're both gonna get some good money!” he proclaimed.

Marla's orange head emerged from behind the door.

“What's going on in here?” she called out over the roar of the audience out in the next room. Sam gestured for her to come on inside, and Marla ducked in there to come within earshot.

“Sam hurt her ankle,” Joey told her, “she was able to watch, though.”

“Are you going to need any help getting back into the car?” Marla asked her.

“I'll take 'er home,” Joey offered.

“You just want to see my journal,” Sam joked with him.

“But I also wanna take you home, though,” he insisted.

“You're so sweet, Joey,” Marla remarked, and he shrugged in response.

“I try my best,” he said with a shake of his head.

“Well, let's at least help her, though,” Aurora offered.

The three of them congregated around Sam; Marla and Aurora put their arms around her, and she set her uninjured foot on the floor, and she slid her sore ankle off of the foot stool. Careful not to put any pressure on that injured ankle, Sam stood upon her other foot with the two of them clasped onto her for dear life.

“You got her?” Joey asked Aurora and Marla as he adjusted his jacket yet again and picked up her purse, and slung it over his shoulder.

“Yeah, we do,” the latter assured him.

“Okay, follow me.” Joey led them out of the room into the main part of L'Amour. Most of the audience had cleared out already, but Metallica clustered near the back of the room with drinks in each hand. Lars spotted them.

“There they are!” he called out.

“Hero of the hour,” James added before he took a sip from the little red cup in his hand. Kirk and Cliff raised their cups to Sam before they took swigs themselves; Joey reached the door first, so he rounded the side of it and held it for the three girls. They were met with the cool night air all around them and the dark canopy of the night sky over their heads. Joey led them down the sidewalk to a shabby little black car parked at the far end of the curb. He reached into his jeans pocket for his car keys and he unlocked the door in one fell swoop. Up the street, the traffic light had turned red, which gave Aurora and Marla time to help Sam into the threadbare passenger seat; she grimaced at the sharp pain in her ankle once she climbed inside. Joey rounded the front end of the car and slipped into the driver's seat.

“You alright?” he asked her as she groaned and grimaced at the feeling.

“I hope so...” She shuffled her foot about on the floor and held her knee in place right underneath the dashboard. The pain subsided as she rested her foot in that little nook of the floor.

“As long as we don't go off the road,” she told him as she buckled into the seat, and Joey handed her purse back; she rested her purse on her lap and looked up at Aurora and Marla.

“I'll tell Scott and Charlie what happened,” Aurora vowed to her.

“I'll give Charlie a little something if the paycheck doesn't come,” Marla added; she patted the roof of the car before she closed the door. Joey fired up the engine and, once the light turned green, he shifted into gear and rolled out of there. The seat was so bare that Sam could hardly look over the top of the dashboard.

“So where d'you live at?” he asked her once they reached the corner.

“I live all the way up in the Bronx,” she replied, “I'll show it to you.”

“Good, 'cause I—” He cleared his throat. “—I still don't really know the City all too well.”

“Me, neither,” she confessed, and she shifted her leg a bit to ease the pressure on her ankle. “Even after all this time of coming down from upstate to work on records and things, you still have no idea about most of these things.”

“Exactly! I mean, I know the neighborhoods, but as for street names and where things are? Not a single clue. You'd haveta ask Frankie, Charlie, or Scott 'bout it. As for upstate itself, I'll be yer tour guide.”

They took the next left and down a narrow, dim lit street, which Sam recognized from earlier that day, and nothing more.

“So let's try an'... get our asses to the parkway,” he said. “Do you remember where that is?”

“It's coming up here, I know that.” And that was all she knew about it. Joey drummed his fingers on the edge of the steering wheel. They may as well have been coasting along the pavement with no gas in the tank.

Car headlights whirred over the ground up ahead.

“Guessin' that's it right there?” he declared.

“I think so?”

Joey swallowed and he took the next right onto the freeway in front of them. They rose over the tightly woven streets and began onward to some part of New York City.

“I think we're on the right track,” he said, “'cause I just saw a sign back there that said 'The Bronx'.”

“Did it say anything else?” she asked with a nervous chuckle.

“I think so? 'Cause there was another sign that pointed to an exit goin' out to Long Island, so yeah. I think we're good.”

“Just like over in L.A. Just follow the signs.”

They fell back into silence for a moment as they left Brooklyn and proceeded on up the spine of the City. And then she spoke up again.

“So you really think Frankie might have a thing for me?”

“It's definitely possible,” he confessed. “Anything's possible, y'know.”

“True. For example, I didn't think—ever, in my wildest dreams—that I would be overseeing the first live show of a band called Stormtroopers of Death.”

“And you didn't think you'd be hangin' with me, either,” he added with a smirk at her; the glow of the headlights shone back onto his boyish dark face and his crooked teeth.

“Not at all.”

She thought about what Aurora had said to her on that morning. Maybe that was a chance for Joey to get alone with her, or maybe she was given a chance to get alone with him and to ensure that he really felt the way in which he felt about her. She was in fact supposed to be there in New York City after all. Sam kept her gaze fixated on the side profile of Joey's face, at the full shape of his jaw and the darkness making up his lips, at the smooth skin around his eyes and the fine straight point of his nose. A few stray curls dangled down from the crown of his head towards his large brown eyes, which were made bigger and darker from the darkness. He resembled to a crescent moon, which was made more so the fact by the passing lights lining the freeway.

Hard to believe he was the bachelor of the band, given the beauty of the crescent moon over the glow from twilight.

At one point, he took a glimpse over at her.

“What?” he asked her.

“I'm just—looking at you,” was all she could muster.

“Why you lookin' at me?”

“Because I never really got a good look at your face before,” she continued. He turned his head towards her: the lights from oncoming traffic shone onto his face to make his skin look even softer than before. “You have nice skin.”

“I have nice skin?”

“Yeah, it's real smooth looking. Smooth and unblemished.”

“Oh, you should'a seen me when I was playin' hockey,” he said, “I was anything but unblemished.”

“Did you have cuts and stuff all over your body?” she teased him.

“Nah, not necessarily. I've had a hockey stick thrown at my head a few times, I've gotten those ice burns on my arms and my shins—you know, those burns from rubbin' your skin on an all too smooth surface.”

“Oh, yeah, those hurt like hell.”

“I've also been hit with a puck so much. I got hit in the head a lot.”

“What was your favorite memory of playing hockey, though?” she asked him as they reached a bend in the road.

“Favorite memory? I've got a bunch'a those. One that comes to mind is all the times I played it in my parents' front yard with my friends and I would hit the puck so hard that it'd go flying to a nearby neighbor's house. God, we broke so many windows.”

Sam chuckled at that, and she shifted her weight yet again. There was a bit of extra pressure on that one knee, which made it ache over her ankle. It was better than the pain in her ankle, but at the same time, she need not be in any more pain.

“You know, I was almost semi professional at one point,” he piped up again.

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah. Still got my jersey, too! But the thing is it was either going to be that or go into music, and I had too much love for music, and I think my parents knew that, too. They knew I was too passionate about music and so I took up the drums and singing full time. I learned to sing by listening to records and trying to match up with the singers. I would sing to the Beatles and also to Led Zeppelin and Journey.”

“Explains your powerful voice,” she remarked.

“Nah, the power just came from singin' in little clubs all over the place upstate. Your voice is a muscle—the more you work it, the stronger and more fluid it gets, and that's what happened with me.”

Signs pointing to the Bronx caught their attention right then.

“Okay, now which way do I go?” he quipped with another round of drumming on the rim of the steering wheel.

Sam guided him off of the freeway and into that familiar neighborhood. Charlie and Marla's car was nowhere to be seen by the curb in front of their complex. Joey parked right in front of the staircase and he switched off the car.

“How ya doin'?” He knitted his eyebrows together and his expression turned serious. “Like, how's your leg doin'?”

“Sore still,” Sam confessed. I might need a little help getting out...”

“Okay.” Joey unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out to the cool spring night. He rounded the front of the car and opened the door for her. He held his hand out for her and, once she moved her leg out to the sidewalk, she managed to climb out of the seat on her own. Her ankle throbbed in agony and her knee ached from holding it still for so long; he grabbed her purse and then he offered to help her up the steps.

“I think I got it,” she assured him, “but thank you, though.” She remembered the stairs inside of the building.

Indeed, once they reached the stairwell, Joey turned to her with his eyebrows raised.

“You want me to help ya?” he sweetly offered her.

“Uh—let's see...” Sam gripped onto the banister and she took one step up. She leaned forward so as to take the pressure off of her leg. Joey followed right next to her: he was slender enough that he could slip past her and wait for her a few steps up. Sam's ankle and her knee ached a bit from the stairs, but her leaning forward helped. She peered up at him every so often, at his round little face above her; he guided her up the stairs even when he never touched her once.

Once they reached her place, she took her keys out of her purse and she led him into the cozy apartment.

“Nice li'l place you've got here,” he remarked as he shut the door behind him.

“It's not much, but it's home to me,” she told him as she lay her purse down on the couch. Sam then turned to him as he unzipped his jacket, which in turn showed off a small sliver of his chest.

“So where's this journal?” he asked her.

“It's—in my room,” she sputtered. “Curious?”

“Very much so. I wanna see what Frankie and Charlie are going so ape shit over.” Sam gave her dark hair a toss back with a flick of her head and she ambled into her bedroom for the art journal in question, which she had left plunked open on the desk. The man with the stripe in his hair stared back at her with intent, such that it made her jump back a bit.

She soon recalled that Joey knew nothing about the secret drawings she made with Frank, or anything she told about Charlie. He only knew there was a sketchbook she composed to hand in for art school. Indeed, she lunged for the book and swiped it off of her desk. The very second she cradled the journal in her hands, an idea crossed her mind. Joey in the light against the blackness of the night.

She picked out one of the medium graphites from her desk drawer, and she headed out of her room and back to Joey, who had taken his seat on the couch and spread his narrow thighs apart. He turned his attention to her and showed her a sweet little smile.

“This is going to sound so dumb, but—do you mind if I sketch your face?”

Joey knitted his eyebrows together at that, but he never said anything.

“I just think about how you looked when we were driving up here,” she confessed, “I wanna transscribe your facial features onto the paper here.”

“You want me to serve as your model?” He cracked her a smile at her again, to which she shrugged.

“Again, if you don't mind. I just wanna draw your side profile, too. It's not like I'm asking you to take your clothes off.”

He relaxed his facial expression and he showed her a slight nod. She nibbled on her bottom lip and she took a seat next to him on the couch.

“Here—just hold still,” she advised him, “like—look forward so I can see you from the side.” He did just that and he hunched his shoulders as well.

“No, no, no—just relax.”

“Sorry, I've—I've never done this before.” He lowered his shoulders and moved forward. He straightened his spine so his hair could sprawl over his shoulders and his upper back. The fact he unzipped his jacket meant less work for her.

Sam opened the journal to a fresh new page, albeit one right after the mysterious man in her dreams. She rested the hard cover of the book on her lap and she held the pencil near the tip to put the graphite down with ease; they were in far better lighting in comparison to the lights on the freeway and thus she could better make out his features. She eyed his side profile, from the straight shape of his nose to the slightly full curve of his lips to the soft brown shade of his skin.

It was a quick sketch, but one she made down to the fine little ringlets over his temple and over his forehead. At one point, she held the pencil near the top so she could better shade in his skin and his brown eyes. Given he had brown skin in comparison to Frank's pale complexion, she put down a bit more graphite on the shadows. But much like Frank and Charlie, his hair had so much texture but she wondered if the admissions office would be fickle over something as trivial as the split ends of a young man's hair. But she put extra pressure on some parts of the curls to give them depth. She moved quickly given she had no idea about Joey's schedule or if he had to be anywhere that evening. She rounded out the drawing with her signature and then she showed it to him.

“Holy shit,” he muttered with a gasp.

“I think I've got a bunch of good stuff right here at the moment,” she confessed to him.

“And I have a feeling I'm going to be showing up more in your world,” he added with a smirk on his face. “You're quite good. Even if those admissions people don't even see it for themselves, I can tell you that.”

“And you've been put onto paper!” she declared.

“And I've been put onto paper, too, yeah! That's an honor to me. It's a pleasure to be on paper.”

#chapter 14 #fever in fever out #fever in fever out fanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #anthrax fanfic #anthrax #stormtroopers of death #joey belladonna #slow burn #new chapter #writing #also on ao3 #text

[stereostevie]

“I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then,” Grammy winner says in rare interview

In the late Nineties, the story of popular music became the story of Ms. Lauryn Hill. She first rose to fame as an actress and a member of the Fugees, whose second and final album, 1996’s The Score, remains one of that decade’s biggest albums. Then, at just 22 years old, Hill took a huge leap and decided to go solo. Released in 1998, The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill filled clubs, radio stations, and MTV with her smooth voice and biting rhymes. Hill herself became as big as her music, appreciated in the fashion world and sought after by movie executives for roles she would eventually decline.

Miseducation took home five Grammy Awards and led to a huge tour. But by the early 2000s, Ms. Hill left behind the fame and the industry almost entirely. She has never released another studio album; her last full-length release was MTV Unplugged No. 2.0 from 2002, where she performed new songs in an acoustic style to a largely tepid reception.

The Miseducation of Lauryn Hill lives on. More than 20 years after its release, it is still regarded as one of the best albums ever made, landing at Number 10 on Rolling Stone’s voter-based 500 Greatest Albums of All Time List this past fall. Many of her songs continue to permeate culture, like the single “Ex-Factor,” which has been sampled or interpolated on major hits by Drake and Cardi B. Beyond that, the album’s impact on multiple generations of musicians is unmistakeable. Everyone from Rihanna to St. Vincent has cited Hill as having heavily influenced their own music.  

The years that followed Miseducation have been complicated. After the album’s release, some of Hill’s collaborators filed a lawsuit claiming she did not properly credit them for their contributions; that suit was settled out of court three years later on undisclosed terms. In 2012, she was charged with tax fraud, and went on to serve three months in prison. More recently, she has found herself back on the road more frequently, sporadically releasing music but mostly basking in the collective love and power of Miseducation through special performances of the album.

For the latest episode of Rolling Stone’s 500 Greatest Albums podcast, Ms. Hill granted a rare interview on the making of Miseducation as well as what happened after. Over e-mail, she spoke candidly about protecting her family and the little support she had after her first album cycle ended. Excerpts from the interview can be heard in the podcast episode, available on Amazon Music, along with tales from several of the musicians who were part of those sessions, like “Commissioner Gordon” Williams, Lenesha Randolph, and Vada Nobles. Ms. Hill’s written responses are here in full.

When you began recording Miseducation, you were 22 and already experiencing immense success with the Fugees. What were you hoping to prove with this album? As far as proving myself goes, I think that’s a larger and more involved story best told at a later time, but I will say that the success of the Fugees absolutely set up The Miseducation to be as big and as well received as it was. When I decided that I wanted to try a solo project I was met with incredible resistance and discouragement from a number of places that should have been supportive, so that had a motivating factor, but it was less about proving myself and more about creating something I wanted to see and hear exist in the world. There were ideas, notions and concepts that I wanted to exist, I set off in a particular direction and kept going. Initially, I intended to work with other producers and artists but found that what I wanted to say and hear may have been too idiosyncratic at the time to just explain it and have someone else try to make it. It had to be made in a more custom manner. The team of people who would ultimately be involved, we all witnessed as it took form. It was unique and exciting.

You’ve said you found yourself especially creative during your pregnancy. How did that experience shape you as a songwriter?

It’s a wild thing to say but I was left alone during my pregnancies for the most part. It was like all of the people with all of their demands had to check themselves when I was pregnant. The resulting peace may have contributed to that sense of feeling more creative. I was pregnant with my first child during the making of The Miseducation and the situation was complicated, so I was motivated to find more stability and safety for myself and for my child, that definitely pushed me to disregard what appeared as limitations. If I struggled to fight for myself, I had someone else to fight for. This also introduced my first son’s father, Rohan Marley, into the picture, who at that time, was a protective presence. If there were people or forces attempting to prevent me from creating, he played a role in helping to keep that at bay.

During those times especially, I always wanted to be a motivator of positive change. It’s in all of my lyrics, that desire to see my community get out of its own way, identify and confront internal and external obstacles, and experience the heights of Love and self-Love that provoke transformation. I sang from that place and chose to share the joy and ecstasy of it, as well as the disappointments, entanglements and life lessons that I had learned at that point. I basically started out as a young sage lol.

When you look back on it now, is Miseducation the album you intended it to be? I’ve always been pretty critical of myself artistically, so of course there are things I hear that could have been done differently, but the LOVE in the album, the passion, its intention is, to me, undeniable. I think my intention was simply to make something that made my foremothers and forefathers in music and social and political struggle know that someone received what they’d sacrificed to give us, and to let my peers know that we could walk in that truth, proudly and confidently. At that time, I felt like it was a duty or responsibility to do so. I saw the economic and educational gaps in black communities and although I was super young myself, I used that platform to help bridge those gaps and introduce concepts and information that “we” needed even if “we” didn’t know “we” wanted it yet. Of course I’m referring to the proverbial “we.” These things had an enormous value to me and I cherished them from a very young age.

I also think the album stood apart from the types and cliches that were supposed to be acceptable at that time. I challenged the norm and introduced a new standard. I believe The Miseducation did that and I believe I still do this — defy convention when the convention is questionable. I had to move faster and with greater intention though than the dysfunctional norms that were well-established and fully funded then. I was apparently perceived by some as making trouble and being disruptive rather than appreciated for introducing solutions and options to people who hadn’t had them, for exposing beauty where oppression once reigned, and demonstrating how well these different cultural paradigms could work together. The warp speed I had to move at in order to defy the norm put me and my family under a hyper-accelerated, hyper-tense, and unfortunately under-appreciated pace. I sacrificed the quality of my life to help people experience something that had been unreachable before then. When I saw people struggle to appreciate what that took, I had to pull back and make sure I and my family were safe and good. I’m still doing that.

This album permeated culture in a way that few albums have before it existed and made you a massive star. How were you handling the public gaze at the time? There were definitely things I enjoyed about stardom, but there were definitely things I didn’t enjoy. I think most people appreciate being recognized and appreciated for their work and sacrifice. That, to me, is a given, but living a real life is essential for anyone trying to stay connected to reality and continue making things that truly affect people. This becomes increasingly harder to do in the “space” people try to place “stars” in.

The pedestal, to me, is as much about containment and control as it is adulation. Finding balance, clarity and sobriety can be very hard for some to maintain. For example, being yes’d to death isn’t good, and people fear stardom can only result in this, but if the actual answer is yes, being told no just to not appear a yes-man is silly. Never being told no if the answer is no by people afraid to disappoint will obviously also distort the mirror in which we view ourselves. On the other hand, a person with a vision can be way ahead, so people may say no with conviction and resist what they fear only to find out later that they were absolutely wrong.

The idea of artist as public property, I also always had a problem with that. I agreed to share my art, I’m not agreeing necessarily to share myself. The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous. I chafe under any kind of control like that and resist expectations that suggest I should somehow dumb-down and be predictable to make people feel comfortable rather than authentically express myself. I also resist unrealistic expectations placed on me by people who would never place those same requirements on themselves. I can be as diplomatic and as patient as I possibly can be. I can’t, however, sell myself short through constant self-deprecation and shrinking.

“The entitlement that people often feel, like they somehow own you, or own a piece of you, can be incredibly dangerous.”

Is there a version of “Lauryn Hill” that you feel people expected of you, and how did that compare to how you saw yourself? Absolutely, which I touched upon in the answers before this one. Life is life, to be lived, experienced and enjoyed with all of its dynamism and color. If you do something well that people enjoy, often they want the same experience over and over. A real person can be stifled and their growth completely stunted trying to do this without balance. It’s not a fair thing to ask of anyone. We all have to grow, we all have to express ourselves with as much fullness and integrity as we can manage. The celebrity is often treated like a sacrifice, the fatted calf, then boxed in and harshly judged for very normal and natural responses to abnormal circumstances.

I saw someone lambasted once for discussing episodes of anxiety before going on stage, as if anxiety was only a condition of the non-famous. It was absurd, like someone with a record out can’t get a common cold. Someone in love with the art doesn’t not experience fear or anxiety, they just do their best to transcend it or work beyond it so that the art or the passion can be made manifest. Some days are better than others. For some people it gets easier, for some it doesn’t. The unfairness, the harshness was excessive to me. I didn’t like how I was being treated at a certain point. I just wasn’t being treated well and definitely not in accordance with someone who’d contributed what I had. I had a ton of jealousy and competitiveness to contend with. That can exhaust or frustrate your efforts to make anything besides primal scream music, 😊.

Provoking that kind of aggravation was probably intentional. You have to find reasons to still do it, when you’re exposed to the ugly.  People often think it’s ok to project whatever they want to on someone they perceive as having “it all” or “having so/too much.” Hero worship can be an excuse for not taking care of your own sh#t. The flip side of that adulation can turn severely ugly, aggressive, and hostile if people make another person responsible for their sense of self-worth. You can either take that abuse or say no to it. After subjecting myself to it for years, I started to say no, and then no turned into hell no, then hell no turned into f#ck no…you get my point. 😊

If you could talk to yourself at 22 now, what would you say? I’d share the things I do now with my 22-year-old self. If I had known what I know now, things would probably have unfolded differently. I would have continued to invest in people but I would have made sure I had people with the love, strength, and integrity around me to really keep their eye on the prize and my well-being. The world is full of seduction and if they can’t seduce you, they go after the people you love or depend on in some way. I would have with greater understanding tried to do more to insulate myself and my loved ones from that kind of attack.

Looking back on that period of your life, do you have any regrets?

I have some periods of woe, some periods of sorrow and great pain, yes, but regret is tough because I ended up with a clarity I might not have been able to achieve any other way. I would have done a few things differently though if I could go back. I would have done my best to shield myself so that I could better shield my children.  I would have rejected the manipulation, unfair force and pressure put on me much earlier. I would have benefitted from having more awareness about the dangers of fame. I would have been more communicative with everyone truly involved with The Miseducation and fought hard for the importance of candid expression. I would have demanded what I needed and removed people antagonistic to that sooner than I did.

You have released music since Miseducation and have continued to play live. Do you ever foresee releasing another full-length studio album? The wild thing is no one from my label has ever called me and asked how can we help you make another album, EVER…EVER. Did I say ever? Ever! With The Miseducation, there was no precedent. I was, for the most part, free to explore, experiment and express. After The Miseducation, there were scores of tentacled obstructionists, politics, repressing agendas, unrealistic expectations, and saboteurs EVERYWHERE. People had included me in their own narratives of THEIR successes as it pertained to my album, and if this contradicted my experience, I was considered an enemy.

Artist suppression is definitely a thing. I won’t go too much into it here, but where there should have been overwhelming support, there wasn’t any. I began touring because I needed the creative outlet and to support myself and my family. People were more interested in breaking me or using me to battery-power whatever they had going on than to support my creativity. I create at the speed and flow of my inspiration, which doesn’t always work in a traditional system. I have always had to custom build what I’ve needed in order to get things done. The lack of respect and willingness to understand what that is, or what I need to be productive and healthy, doesn’t really sit well with me. When no one takes the time to understand, but only takes the time to count the money the fruit of this process produces, things can easily turn bad. Mistreatment, abuse, and neglect happen. I wrote an album about systemic racism and how it represses and stunts growth and harms (all of my albums have probably addressed systemic racism to some degree), before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy. Now…over a decade later, we hear this as part of the mainstream chorus. Ok, so chalk some of it up to leadership and how that works — I was clearly ahead, but you also have to acknowledge the blatant denial that went down with that. The public abuse and ostracizing while suppressing and copying what I had done, (I protested) with still no real acknowledgement that all of that even happened, is a lot.

“I wrote an album about systemic racism… before this was something this generation openly talked about. I was called crazy.”

I continue to tour and share with audiences all over the world, but I also full-time work on the trauma, stifling, and stunting that came with all of that and how my family and I were affected. In many ways, we’re living now, making up for years where we couldn’t be as free as we should have been able to. I had to break through a ton of unjust resistance, greed, fear and just plain human ugliness. Little else can rival freedom for me. If being a superstar means living a repressed life where people will only work with you or invest in your work if they can manipulate and control you, then I’m not sure how important music gets made without some tragic set of events following. I don’t subscribe to that.

Lastly, I appreciate the people who were moved by this body of work, which really represented a lifetime — up to that point — of love, experience, wisdom, family and community investment in me, the summation of my experience from relationships, my dreams, inspirations, aspirations and God’s ever-present grace and Love in my life through the lens of my 20-something but wise-sage existence, lol. I dreamed big, I didn’t think of limits, I really only thought of the creative possibilities and addressing the needs as I saw them at that time. I also had the support of a community of talented artists, thinkers, and doers, friends and family around me. Their primary efforts (THEN) seemed to be to help clear a path and to help protect. However, when you effectively create something powerful enough to move the bulls#t out of the way, all kinds of forces and energies may not like that. They may seek to corrupt and discourage, to disrupt and distract, to divide, and sabotage…but we bore witness to the fact that this happened — a young, black woman through hip-hop culture, a legacy of soul, Spirit and an appreciation for education and educating others communicated love and timeless and necessary messages to the world.

The music business can be an industry of entanglements, where a small number of people are expected to be responsible for a very large number of people. It’s hard to find fairness in a situation like that. Now, I look for as much equity and fairness as possible. I appreciate being loved for my contributions to music, but it’s important to be loved for who you are as a person just as much, and that can be a delicate but extremely important balance to achieve. Experiencing that is important to me.

#black women #fame #hip-hop #lauryn hill #ms. lauryn hill #music #music industry #r&b #robert glasper #rollingstone #soul #the fugees #the miseducation of lauryn hill

[penguiduck]

The Relationship Between Readers & Writers: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers

Introduction | Part 1: What is this Relationship? | Part 2: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Readers | Part 3: A Day in the Life of… | Part 4: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Perspectives | Part 5: Creating Motivation and Appreciation for Writers: Implementation | Part 6: How to Write the Best Feedback |  Part 7: Where Does This Leave Us?

Last chapter, we discussed the nature of this unique relationship between readers and writers, and the currency that is exchanged between them.  This section is for the writers.  I hope to give you some insight on how to motivate your readers and let them feel appreciated for giving your work the attention it deserves.

As a reminder, currency can be provided in a number of different ways, but I’m going to focus primarily on feedback in this section because I think it is the most feasible and appropriate.

A common theme that I’ve been hearing is that readers can be shy or uncomfortable giving feedback.  This can be due to the nature of an online relationship because reading work anonymously is an option.  It can also be due to a language barrier or general reluctance to engage.  Or perhaps it’s due to a bad experience with leaving feedback in the past in which they were reproached for expressing their honest thoughts.

Writers can’t necessarily help make a reader less shy or remove the language barrier, but they can be approachable and kind.  They can welcome feedback and reward those who offer it.  If a writer is consistently welcoming, it may encourage readers to take a chance and provide much-desired feedback.

In the case of a poor experience, I think it’s especially important to be cognizant and ensure that this does not happen between you and your readers.  I will address the acceptance of criticism and opposing opinions at the end of this section to help reinforce this.

If a relationship between readers and writers is desired, writers have the responsibility of being affable and fostering an environment in which readers can provide honest feedback without fear of confrontation.  Let’s first discuss ways in which we can encourage readers to come forth with feedback.

WHAT DO READERS WANT?

They want good work, writing that can make them feel what they want to feel, whether that’s heartrending angst or tooth-rotting joy.  They want to feel respected should they choose to voice their opinions.  They want to know that writers care about their work and their relationship with readers.

Nothing I’ve said is revolutionary, but I think there are a few things writers can consistently do to stay honest with these ideas:

1. Respond to your readers.  It’s a small gesture, but if they take the time to give you feedback, the least you can do is thank them for it.

Imagine you telling someone, random stranger or not, that you like their new haircut or their shoes, and that compliment falls into an awkward silence.  You probably won’t compliment them anymore because you don’t know if your compliments are welcome.  So if you, as a writer, want more feedback, you need to acknowledge those who are currently providing it.

This doesn’t just apply to comments and reviews.  This applies to emails, Facebook chats, Tumblr asks, etc.  It’s basic manners to acknowledge feedback, no matter how short or simple.

2. Thank your readers.  You can do this comment by comment, but I like to thank my readers by name in each new update.  It lets readers know that I’ve read their feedback and that I’ve not forgotten their kindness, even as I continue to write new chapters.

A sincere thank you goes a long way in expressing that appreciation.

3. Involve your readers.  I think having reader input is instrumental to writing some types of fiction.  For example, I primarily write reader-inserts — anything from straight one-shots in second person to versions of CYOAs and WWYFFs — and sometimes my readers say things in the comments that make me pensive.

Ask readers questions.  If you’re not sure about a certain writing style, theme, or idea, just ask them.  I tend to do this at the end of every chaptered piece of fiction that I publish because it’s an opportunity to gather reader input and make myself a better writer for my audience.  An honest desire to improve is a very welcome prospect for readers — it shows that you care about their thoughts and opinions.

4. Do things for your readers to show your appreciation.  You’re a writer — I assume you like writing.  Write for your readers.

You can do this by hosting raffles or opening requests. As an example, I host a raffle every month for my readers called An Expression of Thanks. Those who leave comments on my works are eligible, and the winner of this raffle receives a written one-shot.  When the events of COVID-19 first started, I opened a request booklet called A Single Word. to help readers cope with the global pandemic. You can hold raffles for any occasion and any conditions. 

Celebrate your accomplishments to thank your readers for sticking with you.  Did you get to a certain amount of kudos on AO3? Hit chapter 100 for one of your fics? Did you just reach an anniversary for posting on a specific site? 

These are all incredible accomplishments for you, but where would you be without your loyal readers?  Raffle off one-shots, art, beta-reading services, even gift cards or other items of sentimental value. Donate to a cause on behalf of your readers. Get creative!   

5. Update consistently and complete your works, if possible.  You certainly don’t have to spend every waking moment writing.  Self-care is important, after all, but no one needs me to tell you that readers appreciate quality writing and updates to their favorite stories. 

Do whatever you need to do to nurture your love for writing, and don’t let yourself burn out.  But don’t forget that there are readers waiting on the edge of their seats for an update, and by providing a new chapter or new piece, you could very well make their day.

ADDRESSING CRITICISM AND CONTRARY OPINIONS

I’d like to dedicate some time to criticism and how to approach it.  To level-set, allow me to define what I mean by criticism.  I am not referring to outright rude, trolling, or hateful comments.  These are of a different category and should be dealt with in another manner — they should be ignored and reported to an administrator.  For the purpose of this essay, I am specifically addressing well-intentioned feedback that is of a critical nature or a contrary opinion.

First, please realize tone is often lost in informal writing online.  It can be hard to hear when someone is being sarcastic or gentle or sheepish.  Start by believing that your readers have the best of intentions and give them the benefit of the doubt.  They’re not trying to ruin your day.

Understand that feedback is a gift, even if it’s critical.  Someone took precious time out of their day to tell you something about your writing.  They don’t have to do that, but they care enough to provide you this information.  Accept it, and thank them for their effort, even if you don’t agree.

Accepting criticism is not always easy — to be candid, not all criticism is fair.  It’s entirely possible that readers can misinterpret your meaning or, simply, be wrong.  Nevertheless, it’s vital that you remain gracious and kind.  You don’t have to agree with the criticism.  The nature of writing and art is subjectivity — some people like A, and some people like B.  That’s okay. 

What’s important is that you foster an environment in which these differences in opinion are accepted and appreciated.

Still don’t like critical feedback?

You can ask your readers to not provide any.  I’m sure they’ll kindly oblige.  However, I advise against this because if you want to grow as a writer, you need to learn to accept criticism, and even apply it to your craft.

J. K. Rowling’s Harry Potter pitch was rejected 12 times before she found success.  Stephen King’s Carrie was rejected by 30 publishers.  Madeleine L’Engle’s A Wrinkle in Time was rejected 26 times before finally finding a publisher who would accept it.

My point is that these are incredibly popular books, best-selling and well-loved by a huge portion of the world population, and even they were faced with rejection by those with varying opinions.

My advice is to grow a thicker skin.  Don’t let criticism crumble your confidence.  You’re still learning as a writer, refining and polishing your craft as you continue your journey.  Even published authors had to walk this same path — and are still walking this path.

There will always be opinions that contradict yours.  Oftentimes, they won’t be right or wrong — they’re just opinions.

You have freedom of speech, not freedom from speech.  You can write whatever you’d like; people can say whatever they want to say about it.  By posting your work online, you are opening yourself up to the possibility of criticism.  

It’s a fact.  Let it be.

I loathe what I call “care bear culture.”  While I think it’s important to be polite and thoughtful when rendering opinions, writers should not be offended by or shield themselves from innocuous, well-intentioned comments.  This exposure and acceptance of criticism is a fundamental piece of learning and becoming a better writer.  If you reject constructive criticism and limit your exposure of opinions to those that agree with your own, you reject personal growth.

People are allowed to have opinions.  They are allowed to think that A is better than B or X is superior to Y; and if you’re a supporter of B or Y, you have the right to respectfully defend your position.  But do not disregard a polite comment or piece of feedback simply because it is contrary to what you have done or prefer.

Do not allow opposing opinions to break your creative spirit.  Diversity of thought is incredibly important and powerful.  If you dissuade your readers from providing this type of feedback, you may not get any feedback at all.

Some of the most useful feedback I’ve ever received was uncomfortable for me to read and hurtful to apply to my craft.  It’s not easy looking at your writing with a critical eye because what you’ve put on paper is part of you.  How can you criticize yourself and your work?

There is a piece of writing advice out there: Kill your darlings.  Sometimes your readers can give you incredible perspective on who or what your darlings are.

Allow yourself to be uncomfortable.  Embrace that discussion.  You will be a better writer for it.

In the meantime, be gracious and kind when receiving criticism.  As I mentioned earlier, you don’t have to agree with the criticism, but take it to heart.  Consider it.  If you focus too much on why it’s said and not what is said, then you’re going to struggle with accepting criticism.

Allow yourself to be a better writer.  You deserve that opportunity.

This is also posted on AO3.

#Writing #Writing advice #Writing tips #The relationship between online readers and writers #Readers #Blog post #Writing blogs #Writing community #Criticism #Writing inspiration #Kudos #Feedback #Currency #Writing tutorial #Writers #Readers and Writers #Analysis #Fanfiction #Writing fanfiction #Original fiction #Fiction #Accepting criticism

[douchebagbrainwaves]

SO ONE GUARANTEED WAY TO TURN YOUR MIND INTO THE TYPE THAT HAS GOOD STARTUP IDEAS IS TO TAKE A STEP BACK

Facebook all got started. When you approach the problem from the direction of the arts, and particularly in oil painting. A big chunk of our code was doing things that you can't fool mother nature. It was like a big arrow pointing users to the test drive and found that at a certain step they would get all kinds of publicity. In fact they were more visible during the Bubble robbed their companies by granting themselves options doesn't mean options are a bad idea. I think Microsoft will have a hard time paying a high price for a company is one hopes adding to its value, and it's easy to see, because they are afraid of standing out. When you release only one new version a year, you tend to hear for learning Latin. So they invested in new startups that promised to be the last word in informality. Well, there precisely is Montaigne's great discovery. You were also safe if they said they wanted C or Java developers. To answer that we have to reach back into history again, though this time not so far.

They're going to have to declare the type of x first. It did serve some purposes: reading a foreign language was difficult, and thus taught discipline, or at least, kept students busy; it introduced students to cultures quite different from what they expected? It's hard to stay interested in something you don't like yourself. They're not. There is a point where I'll do without books. It did serve some purposes: reading a foreign language was difficult, and thus taught discipline, or at least, pick your battles. If a company uses true Web-based software it's actually a good plan. Or at least, is run by real hackers.

Most Perl hackers would agree that you do not, ordinarily, want to program in anything but the most powerful reasonably efficient language you can get away with being more informal. I was always under pressure to release their new OS, whose release date had already slipped four times, but some of the startup founders. So of course your first impulse is to disregard them. Desktop software breeds a certain fatalism about bugs. Something is going on here. At first this seemed a very cynical statement. And so designing Web-based software now, because writing applications for them seemed an attainable goal to larval startups. And whether universities can do this or not, they dress informally as a prophylactic measure against stupidity.

You end up with better technology, created faster, because things are made in the innovative atmosphere of startups instead of the broken air conditioner in your studio apartment. Starting in January 2000, Yahoo's stock price began to crash, ultimately losing 95% of its value. Most people, most of the practice of good design is how well it works for the user doesn't mean simply making what the user needs, not simply what he says he wants. A design choice that gives you elegant finished programs may not give you an elegant design process. This seems to me one of the winners will only indirectly be Internet companies; for every Google there will be ten JetBlues. Many software companies, especially at the beginning, have periods where the developers slept under their desks and so on. It's probably closer to machine language than Python. Back button.

My kids are little, but I never took another English class. Why did desktop computers take over? Dressing up is not so much bad in itself. With Web-based applications will often be useful to let two people edit the same document, for example, does not begin by creating a design that he then imposes on the users, but by the end of the list, and indeed, no one is sure where the end is. This is an extremely useful question. Like all rivers, it's rigorously following the laws of physics. I already mentioned: that startups are so weird that if you have a choice of running with it or not, there's some pressure to claim they can, lest they lose applicants to other universities that do. Many software companies, support is offered as a way to develop ideas; it's also a good rule of thumb works well. Outside writers tend to supply editorials of the defend-a-position writing that would be called that. The press, ever eager to exaggerate small trends, now gives one the impression that we just blithely plowed forward writing code. I did it myself in college. What were we going to do in other languages.

#automatically generated text #Markov chains #Paul Graham #Python #Patrick Mooney #course #list #code #users #chunk #applications #fact #nature #support #rivers #Internet #writing #company #books #companies #Many #publicity #things #Montaigne #time #price #Back #document #Yahoo

[qqueenofhades]

Do you think society as a whole understands and values history? I don’t think they do. And I don’t understand why.

HoooooWEEEEEE, anon. What follows is a good old Hilary History Rant ™, but let me hasten to assure you that none of it is directed at you. It just means that this is a topic on which I have many feelings, and a lot of frustration, and it gets at the heart of many things which are wrong with our society, and the way in which I try to deal with this as an academic and a teacher. So…. yeah.

In short: you’re absolutely right. Society as a whole could give exactly dick about understanding and valuing history, especially right now. Though let me rephrase that: they could give exactly dick about understanding and valuing any history that does not reinforce and pander to their preferred worldview, belief system, or conception of reality. The human race has always had an amazing ability to not give a shit about huge problems as long as they won’t kill us right now (see: climate change) and in one sense, that has allowed us to survive and evolve and become an advanced species. You have to compartmentalize and solve one problem at a time rather than get stuck in abstracts, so in that way, it is a positive trait. However, we are faced with a 21st century where the planet is actively burning alive, late-stage capitalism has become so functionally embedded in every facet of our society that our public values, civic religion, and moral compass (or lack thereof) is structured around consumerism and who it benefits (the 1% of billionaire CEOs), and any comfortable myths of historical progress have been blown apart by the worldwide backslide into right-wing authoritarianism, xenophobia, nationalism, racism, and other such things. In a way, this was a reaction to 9/11, which changed the complacent late-20th century mindset of the West in ways that we really cannot fathom or overstate. But it’s also a clarion call that something is very, very wrong here, and the structural and systemic explanations that historians provide for these kinds of events are never what anyone wants to hear.

Think about it this way. The world is currently, objectively speaking, producing more material resources, wealth, food, etc than at any point before, thanks to the effects of globalism, the industrial and information revolutions, mass mechanizing, and so on. There really isn’t a “shortage” of things. Except for the fact that the distribution of these resources is so insanely unequal, and wildly disproportionate amounts of wealth have been concentrated in a few private hands, which then use the law (and the law is a tool of the powerful to protect power) to make sure that it’s never redistributed. This is why Reaganism and “supply-side”, aka “trickle-down” economics, is such bullshit: it presupposes that billionaires will, if you enable them to make as many billions as possible without regulation, altruistically sow that largess among the working class. This never happens, because obviously. (Sidenote: remember those extravagant pledges of billions of euros to repair Notre Dame from like 3 or 4 French billionaires? Apparently they have paid… exactly not one cent toward renovations, and the money has come instead from the Friends of Notre Dame funded by private individuals. Yep, not even for the goddamn cause célèbre of the “we don’t give a shit about history” architectural casualties could they actually pay up. Eat! The! Rich!…. anyway.)

However, the fact is that you need to produce narratives to justify this kind of exploitation and inequality, and make them convincing enough that the people who are being fucked over will actively repeat and promote these narratives and be fiercely vested in their protection. Think of the way white American working-class voters will happily blame minorities, immigrants, Non-Murkan People, etc for their struggles, rather than the fact of said rampant economic cronyism and oligarchy. These working-class voters will love the politicians who give them someone to blame (see: Trump), especially when that someone is an Other around whom collective systems of discrimination and oppression have historically operated. Women, people of color, religious minorities/non-Western religions, LGBT people, immigrants, etc, etc…. all these have historically not had such a great time in the capitalist Christian West, which is the predominant paradigm organizing society today. You can’t understand why society doesn’t value history until you realize that the people who benefit from this system aren’t keen on having its flaws pointed out. They don’t want the masses to have a historical education if that historical education is going to actually be used. They would rather teach them the simplistic rah-rah quasi-fictional narrative of the past that makes everyone feel good, and call it a day. 

The classic liberal belief has always been that if you can just teach someone that their facts are wrong, or supply them with better facts, they’ll change their mind. This is not how it works and never has, and that is why in an age with, again, more knowledge of science than ever before and the collected wisdom of humanity available via your smartphone, we have substantial portions of people who believe that vaccines are evil, the Earth is flat, and climate change (and 87 million other things) are fake and/or government conspiracies. As a medievalist, I get really tetchy when the idiocy of modern people is blamed on the stereotypical “Dark Ages!” medieval era (I have written many posts ranting about that, so we’ll keep it to a minimum here), or when everything bad, backward, or wrong is considered to be “medieval” in nature. Trust me, on several things, they were doing a lot better than we are. Other things are not nearly as wildly caricatured as they have been made out to be. Because once again, history is complicated and people are flawed in any era, do good and bad things, but that isn’t as useful as a narrative that flattens out into simplistic black and white.

Basically, people don’t want their identities, comfortable notions, and other ideas about the past challenged, especially since that is directly relevant to how they perceive themselves (and everyone else) in the present. The thing about history, obviously, is that it’s past, it’s done, and until we invent a time machine, which pray God we never fucking do, within a few generations, the entire population of the earth has been replaced. That means it’s awfully fragile as a concept. Before the modern era and the invention of technology and the countless mediums (book, TV, radio, newspaper, internet, etc etc) that serve as sources, it’s only available in a relatively limited corpus of documents. History does not speak for itself. That’s where you get into historiography, or writing history. Even if you have a book or document that serves as a primary source material, you have to do a shit-ton of things with it to turn it into recognizable scholarship. You have to learn the language it’s in. You have to understand the context in which it was produced. You have to figure out what it ignores, forgets, omits, or simply does not know as well as what it does, and recognize it as a limited text produced from a certain perspective or for a social reason that may or may not be explicitly articulated. The training of a historian is to teach you how to do this accurately and more or less fairly, but that is up to the personal ethic of the historian to ensure. When you’re reading a history book, you’re not reading an unmediated, Pure, This Was Definitely How Things Happened The End information download. You are reading something by someone who has made their best guess and has been equipped with the interpretive tools to be reasonably confident in their analysis, but sometimes just doesn’t know, sometimes has an agenda in pushing one opinion over another, or anything else.

History, in other words, is a system of flawed and self-serving collective memory, and power wants only the memory that ensures its survival and replication. You’ve heard of the “history is written by the winners” quote, which basically encapsulates the fact that what we learn and what we take as fact is largely or entirely structured by the narrative of those who can control it. If you’ve heard of the 1970s French philosopher Michel Foucault, his work is basically foundational in understanding how power produces knowledge in each era (what he calls epistemes) and the way in which historical “fact” is subject to the needs of these eras. Foucault has a lot of critics and his work particularly in the history of sexuality has now become dated (plus he can be a slog to read), but I do suggest familiarizing yourself with some of his ideas. 

This is also present in the constant refrain heard by anybody who has ever studied the arts and humanities: “oh, don’t do liberal arts, you’ll never get a job, study something worthwhile,” etc. It’s funny how the “worthwhile” subjects always seem to be science and engineering/software/anything that can support the capitalist military industrial complex, while science is otherwise completely useless to them. It’s also always funny how the humanities are relentlessly de- or under- funded. By labeling these subjects as “worthless,” when they often focus on deep investigation of varied topics, independent critical thought, complex analysis, and otherwise teaching you to think for yourself, we therefore decrease the amount of people who feel compelled to go into them. Since (see again, late-stage capitalism is a nightmare) most people are going to prefer some kind of paycheck to stringing it along on a miniscule arts budget, they will leave those fields and their inherent social criticism behind. Of course, we do have some people – academics, social scientists, artists, creatives, activists, etc – who do this kind of work and dedicate themselves to it, but we (and I include myself in this group) have not reached critical mass and do not have the power to effect actual drastic change on this unfair system. I can guarantee that they will ensure we never will, and the deliberate and chronic underfunding of the humanities is just one of the mechanisms by which late-stage capitalism replicates and protects itself.

I realize that I sound like an old man yelling at a cloud/going off on my paranoid rant, but…. this is just the way we’ve all gotten used to living, and it’s both amazing and horrifying. As long as the underclasses are all beholden to their own Ideas of History, and as long as most people are content to exist within the current ludicrous ideas that we have received down the ages as inherited wisdom and enforced on ourselves and others, there’s not much we can do about it. You are never going to reach agreement on some sweeping Platonic ideal of universal history, since my point throughout this whole screed has always been that history is particular, localized, conditioned by specific factors, and produced to suit the purposes of a very particular set of goals. History doesn’t repeat itself, per se (though it can be Very Fucking Close), but as long as access to a specific set of resources, i.e. power, money, sex, food, land, technology, jobs, etc are at stake, the inherent nature of human beings means that they will always be choosing from within a similar matrix of actions, producing the same kind of justifications for those actions, and transmitting it to the next generation in a way that relatively few people learn how to challenge. We have not figured out how to break that cycle yet. We are an advanced species beyond any doubt, but we’re also still hairless apes on a spinning blue ball on the outer arm of a rural galaxy, and oftentimes we act like it.

I don’t know. I think it’s obvious why society doesn’t understand and value history, because historians are so often the ones pointing out the previous pattern of mistakes and how well that went last time. Power does not want to be dismantled or criticized, and has no interest in empowering the citizens to consider the mechanisms by which they collaborate in its perpetuation. White supremacists don’t want to be educated into an “actual” version of history, even if their view of things is, objectively speaking, wildly inaccurate. They want the version of history which upholds their beliefs and their way of life. Even non-insane people tend to prefer history that validates what they think they already know, and especially in the West, a certain mindset and system of belief is already so well ingrained that it has become almost omniscient. Acquiring the tools to work with this is, as noted, blocked by social disapproval and financial shortfall. Plus it’s a lot of goddamn work. I’m 30 years old and just finished my PhD, representing 12 years of higher education, thousands of dollars, countless hours of work, and so on. This is also why they’ve jacked the price of college through the roof and made it so inaccessible for people who just cannot make that kind of commitment. I’ve worked my ass off, for sure, but I also had support systems that not everyone does. I can’t say I got here All On My Own ™, that enduring myth of pulling yourselves up by your bootstraps. I know I didn’t. I had a lot of help, and again, a lot of people don’t. The academy is weird and cliquish and underpaid as a career. Why would you do that?

I wish I had more overall answers for you about how to fix this. I think about this a lot. I’ll just have to go back to doing what I can, as should we all, since that is really all that is ultimately in our control.

#history #rant #long post #i'm sure i have more to say #but that's enough for now #anonymous #ask

[morgantheblog-blog]

A Brief Ethnography of Art Twitter

(note before I get started-- I am a fan of all the accounts pictured in this post and follow them from my own accord!)

Hello all!

The world is so crazy right now, and while I’d love to talk about that, I figured I’d give a different kind of update.

Do you know what an ethnography is? I didn’t, and to be honest, I still feel like I don’t when I hear it. I mean, it just sounds so scientific. And in a way, it is!

According to a quick google, an ethnography is, “the scientific description of the customs of individual peoples and cultures.” In other words, it’s just an in depth look into another group’s culture/world. 

Cultures exist all over the place in innumerable different ways, and they don’t have to be an established group determined by something like nationalities like one may think. Tiny cultures with established customs and rules exist even in the digital sphere—just think of how many different worlds there are on just one social platform, let alone all the ones that exist!

That brings us to Twitter—specifically, “art Twitter.” 

Art Twitter exists exactly where you may think, but most importantly, it’s not hidden. In fact, one of the main purposes of art Twitter is to help its participants find each other—especially those that are trying to garner a following early on. 

This is the part of Twitter where artists will utilize their Twitter following to broadcast their art pieces-- sometimes for sale, other times just to make themselves known. With these artists come their supporters and customers, the ones who essentially help spread these account’s artwork and audience. 

I wanted to look into this culture because I teeter around it all the time, in my own Twitter experience. I usually follow a lot of comedy-oriented people on Twitter, but I also follow a lot of astrology and spirituality accounts, which tends to come into contact with art Twitter, usually through retweets of giveaways. 

While I tend to observe in passing, never really interacting directly other than an occasional like, I’ve always been fascinated by it. I like to do arts and crafts and DIY projects in my spare time, but never on the level that these accounts do. 

Often times, I’ll see an account post something for sale that I know I’m able to make on my own-- or maybe it’s something that seems out of my abilities, but it will still inspire me for a project of some kind. 

Other times, I’ve found myself growing curious about these artists/accounts. When I see something being retweeted that’s for eye catching, I then wonder who is the one who made it? How did they come to making it? Do they do this often?

The list goes on. 

From my (brief) time observing this world, I discovered all sorts of customs and cultural nuances that exist here. To make things a little easier and concise, I’ll break down my findings into a list. 

1. Most of these accounts follow the same outline

An art Twitter account is easy to locate. These accounts follow a similar structure-- albeit they can be presented in their own unique ways, they each contain the same kinds of tells:

-Their name/their shop’s name

-the type of art that they specialize in/sell

-where you can find their shop (IE a link to their website or other social media handles)-a pinned tweet of some kind (typically their current giveaway, a viral tweet, or latest project/shop update they want to showcase)

Here are a few examples: 

Seems pretty easy, right?

I believe the consistency in the “structure” for these accounts is key to art Twitter’s survival-- if someone were to post a piece of art and you click on their account and the information is difficult to find, you’re not going to survive long in art Twitter. There are a lot of artists and your account’s page is your first impression. 

2. Art Twitter is built on a support system

This was one of the phenomena that brought me to look into art Twitter int he first place. 

The entire premise of it is built on lifting each other up—yes, to each a wider audience, but in turn the participants lift up each other with positivity. In the replies of every artist with an active following’s Tweets, you’ll see an array of both fellow artists and supporters complimenting the artist or just sharing something that they liked about the piece. 

It’s so deeply engrained into the culture that you can expect it on any post in art Twitter.  It’s also common to see these artists responding to their customer’s posts about their art, thanking them for their business or even just their time.

It’s these “call and response” kind of interactions that led me to feel as though this really was its own culture. These are unspoken rules that exist in art Twitter-- you’re all but expected to support each other and in turn, others in the community will support you, too. 

This is how one becomes known in the community. 

3. Many of these accounts work in similar mediums-- this can lead to conflict. 

Plagiarism is no joke-- we all can agree on that. In the scholarly world, it can be punished severely. In the artist world, it can be absolutely damning and invalidating of your art entirely. 

You can imagine where I’m going with this. 

When artists work in similar mediums, like candles or resin, there is bound to be a bit of overlap. While there are countless ways to make your own art style and brand, there is only so much that can be done with a medium like resin-- even more so when artists source their molds (for resin) from the same few wholesalers. 

It can be frustrating. 

No one wants to hear their character being smeared and I imagine it’s even more frustrating when your artistic ability is being called into question as well.

In this regard, there is no true winner nor solution that I’ve been able to come up with since observing this world, other than trying to perfect your craft as best you can to the best of your ability. 

Despite following this world (for a few weeks), I still have some things I haven’t quite figured out. 

As someone who experiences social anxiety, the idea of interacting with complete strangers over the internet kind of terrifies me. I mean, the last thing I want is someone from god knows where finding out more details about me in real life than I would prefer. And I know I’m not alone in feeling this way. 

Yet still, art Twitter thrives. It’s not just the artist accounts that keep it afloat, because clearly someone has to be supporting them. Just like musicians have to have some kind of listening audience to stay relevant, artist Twitter has to have supporters in order to stay alive. 

And it shows no signs of going anywhere anytime soon. 

I can understand why one would follow so many of these accounts. Seeing tweets with pieces of art that stimulate the artistic part of your brain, even for a moment, is a needed and welcomed break in ones Twitter timeline. 

People see tweets with a craft of some kind that may be in their wheelhouse of abilities and briefly forget about the awful news that was clogging their feed before it.

If I’m being honest, I need this too. 

This inspiration is always welcome, despite me never actively seeking it out. But after this mini-project, I’ve kind of begun to want to be more active in this world-- maybe not replying to every tweet I see, but who knows! 

Maybe I’ll reply to an account with heart eye emojis soon or something. 

Stay safe everyone! 

#entry #art twitter #morgan the blog

[uglyducklingpresse]

“WE ARE ALL SOMEWHAT COLONIZED IN OUR EXISTENCE”: JAMIE CHIANG IN CONVERSATION WITH ZAHRA PATTERSON

UDP apprentice Jamie Chiang interviewed writer and educator Zahra Patterson in February 2019 after the release of her UDP title Chronology, recent winner of the Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Memoir/Biography. They discussed Zahra's journaling in Cape Town; her friendship with Liepollo Ranekoa, who passed away in 2012; the impact of language choice in postcolonial literature; tattoos; and more.

Taking as its starting point an ultimately failed attempt to translate a Sesotho short story into English, Chronology explores the spaces language occupies in relationships, colonial history, and the postcolonial present. It is a collage of images and documents, folding on words-that-follow-no-chronology, unveiling layers of meaning of queering love, friendship, death, and power.

Can you talk about the background of your decision to go to Cape Town to find who you are or the meaning of life? Did you find it? (In Chronology, Zahra refers to her journey to Cape Town as a search for herself.) 

Yeah, I mean sometimes I get a little dramatic perhaps when I'm writing in my journal. 

How old were you? How many years ago was that? 

It was the end of 2009 into 2010, so I would have been in my late twenties. I feel a journal is a place to express one's ideas, but it's also a creative space. I wouldn't take myself totally seriously in everything that comes out in a journal. I think there's definitely some self-awareness of one's own—my self importance, but also the quest to find oneself is not just to be made fun of. I think it's an important concept.

How long did you stay in Cape Town? 

I was there for around five weeks. As far as the decision to go, it was more spur of the moment. I was in South Africa for a wedding. My cousin got married and instead of going off traveling that far for a week, I thought I would just spend a couple of months if I had to go to that part of the world; there's no point in going for a week, so I was going to stay. I hadn't actually decided where I was going after the wedding until I got there, and Cape Town seemed to make the most sense to me. 

It perhaps felt the least imperialistic to go and spend time in such a cosmopolitan, international city as opposed to going somewhere more remote. You're either a tourist or a local, whereas Cape Town is an easy city to integrate into. 

I see. On page 33, you mention that you have a tattoo, and in the caption there is this word ke nonyana. What does ke nonyana mean? 

It means I'm a bird. 

That's the first word you spoke in Sesotho? 

Yes. I found the words in Liepollo’s English-Sesotho dictionary one day, and when she came home I spoke them. It meant a lot to her that I’d engaged with her language.

If you don’t mind, could you elaborate the story behind Liepollo’s colleague’s Facebook profile picture. What happened? 

It was the day she died, and his Facebook profile changed to her picture. It was an image of her. That was jarring because why somebody would put an image of a friend up, and there are very few circumstances that someone would do something like that and usually it's because they're dead. So when I saw that his Facebook picture changed to her face, it occurred to me that something terrible had happened. And I was at work at the time, so it was just very disorienting.

Sorry to hear that. Did you get your tattoo because of this? 

Yeah, so I didn't have anybody to mourn with because I had met Liepollo in Cape Town and we didn't have friends in common. Actually, we had a friend in common—an American who interned at Chimurenga while I was staying with Liepollo who I met once at the house in Observatory and once for coffee in Brooklyn—but she had moved to D.C. by that time, so I didn't reach out to her. It was a very isolated mourning experience. That's kind of why I got the tattoo, just to have her with me and to have that symbol and to think of her every day. Because when you have a long distance friendship, you're not going to think of the person every day. We were in touch every few months. I don’t want to forget her due to not having a lot of people to remember who she was with, so I needed to make her memory permanent on me. I think everybody thinks about getting tattoos in this day and age. My rule for tattoos is if I want it for a full year, then I'll get it, and I've never wanted anything for a year. So it’s my only tattoo.

And ke nonyana sounds beautiful. 

Thank you. I think it's beautiful also. 

And on page 37 and 38, there’s an interesting conversation you had with a Muslim guy named Saed. I found some of his talk kind of sexist. What was your reaction when you were talking to him? It sounds like he's almost preaching to you, trying to change your idea about what a woman's purpose is in this world. 

Exactly! But he also wasn't that; he was as if playing the role that he thought he was supposed to play and open to other ways of thinking. We're socialized beings, all of us. He wasn't terribly dogmatic. I don't think he'd been challenged too much in his way of thinking, but at the same time maybe he had because he was open to being challenged. So yeah, it was very interesting.

On page 47 to 48, you write about the panel What is the value of age and wisdom? at the Bronx Museum of Art. The five panelists are: Vinie Burrows, Boubacar Boris Diop, Yusef Komunyakaa, Achille Mbembe and Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o. There’s a quotation from Mbembe: “If the language we use is in itself a prison...We have to put a bomb under the language. Explode language!” Could you tell us more about the context? 

Achille Mbembe is a leading postcolonial theorist. I think his words are also quite poetic, so he's speaking metaphorically. The context of that part of the conversation is imperialism and language. That intellectuals from formerly colonized nations use the colonial language to express decolonial ideas is problematic, but it's still very accepted. And even these intellectuals who are on the panel, they write in English and they write in French, but they also find it problematic that they do that; however, it's also part of their survival. Ngũgĩ wa Thiong’o wrote Decolonizing The Mind in the early eighties, where he swore off ever writing in English again, but then he is put into prison and he's exiled, so he can't actually exist in his mother tongue and his mother land; the government there has ostracized him because he speaks out against what they're doing to the people. Therefore, he has to make his life in English in America, he teaches in California.

Circumstances don't necessarily allow a person to decolonize their lives because in order to survive in this society, we are all somewhat colonized in our existence. I think that saying to put a bomb under language is saying that we need to just get our ideas out there. There’s also the visual aspect of it, I see words and letters, like, splattered. Like fucking. . .we need to fuck with language; we need to push the boundaries of language.

As Diop said “Teaching Wolof enhances self-esteem.” Does Wolof have a writing system? 

I’m not positive about the history of Wolof’s writing system but I know some, especially in more northern Sub-African countries had created writing systems using Arabic script and maybe some of them now use the Latin alphabet, so I would have to look that up for Wolof specifically. 

You use your mother tongue to express yourself because ideas in a specific language can't be translated. When you lose the language, you lose the culture and the history of people. Also if you're writing in any of the indigenous languages to Africa, you're not writing for the colonizer; you're writing for the people who speak that language, which is also important. 

A lot of this theory, especially academic theory that is taught in universities, is very limited in its reach. I think even though these are serious intellectuals who write academic works for academia, they're aware and they're problematizing the limits of writing scholarly work for institutions that isn't necessarily reaching the people.

What other languages do you speak? 

I speak French. I lived in France for awhile. I would say I used to be bilingual; I'm kind of monolingual at this point in my life. 

What about in Sesotho? 

I was working on the project (an attempt to translate Lits'oanelo Yvonne Nei's short story “Bophelo bo naka li maripa” from Sesotho to English) originally, but the access to the language was limited. I wasn't able to access decent grammar books, I wasn't able to access the orthography that I wanted to access so I gave up pretty quickly...but it wasn't as simple as giving up. I stepped back because I didn't really feel it was totally appropriate for me to do what I was doing. I think that’s a hugely important part of my text, the part where I put myself into conversation with Spivak and she tells me, via an essay she wrote about translation, that what I’m doing is wrong. I want to learn a language in which I'm going to be able to speak to people. I’m still not totally sure if I should have published what was supposed to be such a personal exercise, so that section with Spivak is essential to me.

On page 72, you wrote Liepollo an email about a friend who taught you how to say Your sister is a whore in Tagalog?

A friend of mine, her first love was Filipina so she knew how to insult people in Tagalog. When she said it, it sounded Spanish to me so I was wondering if that kind of insult comes with colonialism...also a misogynistic perspective can come. Not to say that misogyny doesn't exist in all cultures, although I think there are probably some cultures where it doesn't exist. Just problematizing the way language can infiltrate into a culture and then become part of the existing language but isn't part of that cultural history—the etymology isn’t actually Filipino; the etymology is Spanish.

Are there any books and authors that inspire you a lot?

For this work, Dictee by Theresa Hak Kyung Cha, that was a huge inspiration. Mouth: Eats Color by Sawako Nakayasu in terms of thinking about different ways, different things that can be done with form and then different things that can be done with translation. It was very liberating to read those two authors. I don't identify as a translator nor as a poet, so most of the things I've read are novels. My background is primarily in postmodern and postcolonial pieces of literature. I also thought about the nature of collage while I was working on Chronology. I looked at Wangechi Mutu’s work specifically for inspiration, but I’ve loved Romare Bearden’s work for years.

Thanks for sharing. The last question, what are you working on now?

I've started writing and hopefully I'm able to continue it. It's a piece that will potentially be called Policy. I'm an educator and I'm pretty passionate about how distorted and messed up the reality of public school systems is in this country. Although one could say I've been researching since I've been an adult, I started specific research for Policy last summer and I didn't start writing it until a couple of weeks ago. It's experimental in form. I'd say it's fiction meets theory, whereas Chronology is memoir meets theory. I'm not sure exactly where it's going but I'm thinking critically about charter schools and desegregation efforts in New York City and also the history of that. So going back to Brown versus the Board of Ed. . .I'll probably address school shootings, the school-to-prison pipeline, school lunches, teachers’ strikes; it’s about as intersectional an issue as there is—how we educate ourselves as a nation, and on the stolen land of our nation. 

I think right now, especially with the current administration, though public schools have been in danger for a very long time, our current secretary of education is a billionaire who wants to privatize education, so her agenda is to destroy our public school infrastructure. It's worrisome. Processing this information in a way makes me very angry because it's systemic. It's how you keep people oppressed. If you don't give people access to education, you're not giving them access to themselves. Never mind the tools they need to achieve and succeed in a capitalist society. 

I don't feel the United States has a liberatory agenda for education and I want to explore that a little bit in the history of curriculums and pedagogy because there have been, at the turn of the century, there were some really interesting education theorists like John Dewey and Ella Flagg Young, and their ideas for public education were very progressive, such as student driven classrooms, and not having really punitive systems. You find that education in private schools but rarely in public schools, so why are we not educating our youth in ways that let them think critically about the world that they're living in? Educating children to just follow rules and memorize doesn't work for most children. How many do you know in public schools who are excited to go to school every day? I think humans naturally are curious and want to learn and know things. So why is education taking that away from children? 

I don't know exactly how the project is going to manifest. It will be weird.

Zahra Patterson’s first book, Chronology (Ugly Duckling Presse 2018), won the 2019 Lambda Literary Award for Lesbian Memoir/Biography and received a Face Out Fellowship from CLMP. Her short works have appeared in Kalyani Magazine The Felt, and unbag (forthcoming). A reading of her play, Sappho's Last Supper, was staged at WOW Café Theatre. She is the creator of Raw Fiction and currently teaches high school English at a Quaker boarding school. Her writing has been supported by Mount Tremper Arts and Wendy’s Subway, and her community work has been supported by Brooklyn Arts Council, The Pratt Center, and many individuals. She holds an MFA in Writing from Pratt Institute.

#author interviews #read #zahra patterson #chronology

[megamanmodelaaa-fanstories]

Alpharad’s CPUCS - The Novel, Chapter 1: Welcome New Smash Brothers & Sisters! (Part 1)

7th December 2018, long awaited... has finally arrived!

In a Realm far from our reach, a special event called the “Super Smash Bros Games” opens up every few years where the best come together for a series of duels & competitions to reignite relations & create new ones. This particular one is the 5th in the line of many, marking the 19th Anniversary of these games.

Among those games, a particular set of Tournaments are organized to pit the best of the best against each other for supremacy & bragging rights called the “CPU Championships”, fully sponsored by a one “Alpharad”. No one really remembers why they were labelled with the abbreviation “CPU”, but the name stuck out of respect to those old traditions. The first of the CPU Championships (CPUC for short) is about to begin.

The sun rose to a huge crowd converging to see the first of the CPUCs take place. The streets were packed, some conversing, some running stands or shops, others organizing & watching over the festivities. Sometime later, a familiar voices echoes through the speakers to the masses’ ears… it was Mario!

Mario: “Thank you so much everyone for joining us today! We are-a happy to begin these Championships as we have always done for 19 Years! To begin & for a warm welcome, today’s Challengers will be this season’s Returners &-a New Comers! Let’s-a GO!”

The Coliseum Doors open as everyone rushes in to take their seats. While medieval in design, the Smash Coliseum houses the latest in recreational technology, allowing it to emulate almost any Battle Stage with various Hazards & Features. So it begins, the first ever CPUC of this season pits new comers & returning veterans against each other!

CPU Championship No. 1 Rules & Players:-

-Normal Stages

-FSM Allowed

-No Items

-No Hazards

-Tournament Bracket:

With spectators so excited you could hear them cheer thousands of miles away, Mario strikes the Smash Bell signifying the beginning... of the Tournament!

Match No. 1- Pichu vs. Incineroar

The battle started with both Fighters sizing each other up as they tried to fixate their footing on the moving stage “3D Land”, a very odd start for an opening Match. In reality however, one of the Competitors was a little uneasy about the match-up.

Incineroar: “(Is the audience gonna be OK with me pummeling this little guy?)”

Incineroar did his best to keep things even between him & Pichu to avoid any backlash, especially when you consider that most of this fan base are young passionate fans. All this wasn’t helped by the fact that Pichu was doing sloppily at first, and when he opened with a Headbutt Attack, he missed… nearly throwing himself out-of-bounds.

Pichu: “T-That was close… Sorry Mr. Incineroar!”

Incineroar: “Watch your positioning boy! (I need to handle this fight carefully…)”

Incineroar continues to pull his punches on Pichu, literally staging acts like nearly going out-of-bounds himself by falling behind & missing a Lariat Attack on purpose. But much to his surprise as soon as Pichu started landing a few hits, his momentum kept building up & eventually, he started showing acrobatics that are on par with the likes of Sheikh & Zero Samus! Even Incineroar couldn’t keep up with him!

Pichu wasn’t known to be the most capable Fighter many years ago because he never measured up to all the other competitors. But this time, it was clear to Incineroar & everyone else that this is a new Pichu standing before them!

Incineroar: “Have you been training?”

Pichu: “Y-Yes! Every day since I was invited again.”

Incineroar: “Then show me the new fire in you!”

They clashed without hesitation, sparks of fire & thunder flying with every punch, every kick, every grab, showing a passion for competition that is exactly what followers of these tournaments look for! With full vigor, the two unleash their Final Smash Arts, “Max Malicious Moonsault” & “Volt Tackle”! Incineroar tries to hold Pichu with his bare hands, but then Pichu slips right through sending a flurry of electric charges everywhere! Finally, the burning wrestler flies off the stage unable to recover back. The winner is… PICHU!

Incineroar: “N… Nice one boy. *Wheeze* should’ve known you had it in ya all along...”

Pichu: “S-Sorry Mr. Incineroar… & thank you!”

Match No. 2- Ridley vs. Ice Climbers

Nana: “Uuuh Popo, why does this guy look like the Pterodactyl who keeps stealing our vegetables??”

Popo: “Isn’t he the one people have wanted in these games for years? He looks kinda silly up close, haha!”

That last statement… could not be far from the truth; Ridley isn’t just vicious, but also has a troll like demeanor. The battle started out normally with both sides equally exchanging attacks… until.

Ridley suddenly grabs Popo by the face & drags his body on the ground towards the stage boarder… along with himself?! He then makes a hard stop at the last second, walking away from Popo with a wide grin on his face as if holding back laughter…

Nana: “Are you OK Popo?!”

Popo: “I-I-I’m fine… Come on, let’s get this maniac…!”

The two climbers reform & charge on ahead, but it’s becoming clear that Ridley’s earlier act was enough to throw their well-spoken teamwork out the window. Discoordination, miscommunication, losing track of each other, far too often have have they found them selves on opposite sides away from each other, & Ridley was taking full advantage of these missteps to further crush their focus. Even to the point of taunting the duo mid-fight.

Alas, while they were retreating to retrace & regroup, they’ve failed to notice the pit behind them & fell in together… & Ridley laughed & mocked them the whole way through. The winner is… RIDLEY!

Ridley: “RAAAAAHAHAHAHA!!”

Popo: “He played us… the whole TIME!”

Nana: “Calm down Popo, we’ll get another shot next time…”

Both Climbers leave the ring, with Popo clenching his fist in disgrace…

Match No. 3- King K. Rool vs. Solid Snake

Solid Snake: “A giant crocodile?? Is this karma for all the crocodiles Big Boss ate years ago??”

Otacon: “Careful Snake! He may look like a glutton, but he’s strong & also commands an army powerful enough to occupy an entire Island!”

Solid Snake: “OK then… Bring it on Big Croc!”

King K. Rool: “That’s KROC to you, Onesie Man!!”

Snake’s faster & more nimble, so the Espionage Legend had the towering reptile beat in Close-Quarters-Combat “CQC”. However, K. Rool’s body armour was harder than Snake was anticipating. More shockingly, the armour was also flexible enough to deflect & outsight counter attacks.

Solid Snake: “My attacks haven’t even dented that thing?!”

King K. Rool: “*BELLY SLAP!* Do your worst, stick figure! Hehehee!”

Snake slowly escalates towards using firearms & explosives, but could hardly scratch that armour, let alone launch him out of the ground! The Kroc King also started using his own trusty weapon: An unorthodox single barrel rifle that was throws opponents off with its ability to absorb anything into it. In desperation, Snake calls for his biggest gun.

Solid Snake: “Otacon, engage Covering Fire!!”

FIVE Large Missiles come flying in, all hit their giant green target... But fail to send him out. It was all looking futile as King K. Rool sends the Solider off with a single punch, a feat barely tons of Snake’s own were able to achieve. The winner is… KING K. ROOL!

Solid Snake: “Blast… I’m surprised no one calls you ‘Metal Gear Croc’…”

King K. Rool: “For the last time, it’s KROC!!”

Match No. 4- Wolf vs. Isabelle

Isabelle: “It’s a pleasure to meet you Wolf! Let’s keep it Clean!”

Wolf: “Hmph. They paired me with YOU? This must be a joke, I’ll end this quick.”

The match starts with Wolf dashing towards Isabelle as she….. Takes out a Fishing Rod?? Wolf was left confused, what could she be doing? There aren’t any ponds to fish in on this stage. Shrugging it off, Wolf dashes in to steal the opportunity, only for Isabelle to reel in, grab him then swing to the other side nearly flying outside!

Isabelle: “What do you think of this Rod? Bought it myself from my favorite store!”

Wolf: “You insolent little dog! You’ll pay for this!”

While Wolf continued to charge at the innocent looking Isabelle, she kept on playing with her Fishing Rod throwing him off at every turn. Even when he does see though that trick, she whips out something else unusual as a weapon: A Bug Catching Net, a Stop Sign, even some vegetables! It was becoming very hard to read this fragile-looking, yet versatile Fighter.

Wolf: “BOYS, GET IN HERE NOW & FINISH HEEER!!”

Wolf calls his Star Wolf Team to try & put her down the sights, but even that wasn’t working somehow, always missing at the last possible second.

Wolf: “Why. Won’t. You. FALL?!”

Isabelle: “Now now Wolf, anger isn’t good for your blood pressure. Teehee!”

Wolf was not having any more as he switches to a more aggressive approach to cover some lost ground, letting his claws loose as he flies everywhere around the Innocent Secretary. Then suddenly, Isabelle calls Tom Nook & the Nooklings for a plan of attack. But just as they were about to start, Wolf dodges to the other side for a counterattack... That unfortunately will not happen for as soon as he stops, a Gyroid pops out beneath his feet sending the unsuspecting pilot to the sky!

Wolf: “IMPOSSIBLLLLLLLLLLLE!!!”

The winner is… ISABELLE!

Isabelle: “Wish you a safe landing!”

& just like that, the first half of the CPUC’s first round of matches have concluded! How will the others fair? Who will come out on top? Will anyone else face the consequences of underestimating their opponent? Come back next time for Chapter 1-2!

Thank you for reading & have a good day! 👋🏻😄

#Fan Story #Alpharad CPUCS #Chapter 1

[theonyxpath]

Pirates of Pugmire art by Pat Loboyko

Pirates of Pugmire, which as of my writing this, has 16 days to go and is just under 75% funded! Thank you to everyone who has back, shared, and commented so far, and I’m so excited to help bring all the new pirate rules to the Realms of Pugmire, including ship battles, bird and lizard characters, new callings, firearms, and treasure! We’d really like to get this traditionally printed and in stores, so if you would, too, or just to see manuscript previews, head over to the Kickstarter at http://kck.st/2EoRkyp, yar! But who is writing this, you ask? (We’re going to pretend like you asked. And by “we” I mean “I.”) It is I, Dixie Cochran! Yes, that’s right, I’ve taken over the blog this week while Rich and the rest of the gang who attended UK Games Expo are on their way back from England (or in Matthew’s case, back to elsewhere in England). I’m sure Rich will provide a full account when he returns next week, but until then, here’s a report from Matthew, along with some photographs he kindly sent along.

“The team of Rich, Eddy, Matt, Matthew, Klara, John, Steffie, and Chris had a fantastic time at the UK Games Expo this year, where we ran a demo table, ran over a dozen games at the Hilton, and sold product from Leisure Games to great effect! It was Onyx Path’s first time having a booth at a British convention, and the sheer number of people who thanked us for coming or showed a keen interest in our games (Pugmire, Scion, and Prince’s Gambit were standouts) was staggering.”

L to R: Matt McElroy, Rich Thomas, Chris Allen, Klara Herbøl, Steffie de Vaan, Eddy Webb, and John Burke play Prince’s Gambit! The Sabbat wins!

“We organized our very first Chronicles of Darkness tournament at the Expo, with players from each game of Vampire (run by Klara Herbøl), Werewolf (run by Chris Allen), Promethean (run by John Burke), Changeling (ran by Steffie de Vaan), and Geist (ran by Chris Handley) went on to participate in an Antarctic session of the Contagion Chronicle (run by Matthew Dawkins)! The final winner was Michael, who played his changeling from Steffie’s game, and won a prestige copy of Demon: The Descent. The tournament concept was so good we’ll aim to do something similar next year.”

Matthew and the players of the final game of the Chronicles of Darkness tournament, Stephen, Chris, Sophie, Michael, and Andrew! Congratulations, Michael!

“All in all, we had a superb time. It was great to meet freelancers who haven’t made it out to Gen Con before, the business meetings we held were fruitful, and everyone had a lot of fun. Here’s to the next one!”

The Onyx Path crew at UKGE: Matthew, Klara, Eddy, John, Steffie, Chris, Matt, and Rich! No wonder it’s been so quiet around the office this week. Wait, I work from home…

Eddy welcomes folks to the Onyx Path booth at UKGE! Look how excited he is! “You’re all good dogs!” he seems to say

Dixie again! Isn’t it just like Matthew to interrupt me on my very first blog entry here? I feel like I’m sensing a pattern. For real, though, it looks like everyone had a great time at UKGE, and I hope it’s a convention to which we return in the future! (See how I said “we” there? Maybe I’ll come next year! Who knows? I got so much done while they were gone, though…) For those of you who aren’t as familiar with me, let me actually provide a bit of my history with the company. In 2015 or so, I was chatting with Rose Bailey, just catching up, and I mentioned that though I’d gone to school intending to pursue a career in copy editing, I was having trouble finding a way into the field (at the time, I was mostly focused on fiction and comic books). She subsequently tried me out on the Demon Translation Guide and from there I moved on to supplements and eventually cores. I’d been playing White Wolf/Onyx Path games since about 1999, but for some reason hadn’t considered the RPG industry as a career path until it fell into my lap. Now, several million words edited later (I’ve lost count, but it has to be over three million at this point), I ended up stepping into a version of Rose’s former position when she left to focus on her personal projects. I’m the in-house developer for Chronicles of Darkness and Exalted, so I make sure those lines are doing what they need to, and I still edit quite a bit of our books myself, though I outsource a lot of the smaller supplements and a few core books to other editors, depending on my current workload. In addition, as many/most of you know, I’m one of the three hosts of the Onyx Pathcast, along with Eddy and Matthew, which I enjoy immensely.

It’s been a really great 16 months or so working for Onyx Path, and I look forward to doing even more in the future! Let me know in the comments if there’s anything you’d like to hear about or anyone you’d like to hear from on an upcoming Pathcast episode!

The classic Shén pantheon from Scion: Hero!

Anyway, if I seem to be stalling before I get to the actual Monday Meeting notes, it’s because we didn’t actually have a true meeting this week, what with half the staff still traveling. I have updates and teasers, as usual, but as to what we talked about in the meeting? There wasn’t a lot. (Mostly I asked Mike to give me art, which he did! Thanks, Mike!)

Now that UKGE is past, I’m looking forward to seeing everyone at PAXU, though of course bits of our team here and there will be at other conventions throughout the summer. Say hi if you see one of us!

To reiterate a couple of teasers from Rich from last week, we’ll be announcing a new developer for Scarred Lands and the projects they are overseeing once everyone gets back. Plus, on the Scarred Lands Community Content site, the Slarecian Vault, the beginning of July marks the start of a phenomenal linked adventure series you will not want to miss! Also, June 13th we’ll be starting a little treat for everyone that leads into the aforementioned July event. (Psst, it’s one we get a lot of questions about.)

The modern Shén pantheon from Scion: Hero!

One last tease before we get on to blurbs and updates, for something else that is coming soon…oh? What’s this?

Oh, sorry, that just fell out of my email, but hopefully it will help people create

Many Worlds, One Path!

(Did I do that right?)

BLURBS!

Kickstarter!

Our Pirates of Pugmire Kickstarter is nearly 75% funded, so swing over to our ship and check it out!

Pirates of Pugmire is a chronicle sourcebook for both Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau. It’s usable in either game, or as part of a joint experience. Some highlights include: * Two new species for players to enjoy: lizards and birds * Six new callings, including two for dogs and two for cats * Rules for building, sailing, and sinking ships * A trove of new allies, enemies, and treasures * Information on Waterdog Port and Port Matthew * “Going on the Account,” a chronicle of three new adventures, taking characters from 1st through 6th level

You can also hear Eddy discuss the writing and design of Pirates of Pugmire on the Onyx Pathcast on your favorite podcatcher, or here on : https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/)

ONYX PATH MEDIA

Onyx Pathcast art by Michael Gaydos

This Friday’s Onyx Pathcast is an update straight from UK Games Expo!: https://onyxpathcast.podbean.com/

And Here’s More Media About Our Worlds:

Beanduck Productions’ crew has been playing Exalted! They’re on session 13 of Full Party, but the rest of the sessions are on YouTube if you want to catch up! There are hours of Exalted goodness there.

Garblag Games is still playing Scion! They’re on episode 9!

The ever-wonderful Saving Throw Show is also playing Scion! (So much Godly goodness!)

Twin Cities by Night just released Chapter 1 of their new Chronicles of Darkness game!

Occultists Anonymous’ Mage: The Awakening chronicle delves into magic-crafting territories with the following episodes:

Episode 17: We Got Our Scryes on You – The cabal establishes surveillance on the Predator Kings alpha and begins to track him. https://youtu.be/GP3500xZ41s

Episode 18: Preparing For War – With a scrying spell established, the cabal creates support spells and curses the alpha every way they can think of. https://youtu.be/-8uetChnfEM

Meanwhile, Red Moon Roleplaying has just concluded their Scarred Lands actual play run by Matthew, over on www.redmoonroleplaying.com! Stay tuned to their channels, as soon they’ll be participating in a V5 Chicago by Night chronicle!

It would be remiss of us not to link you again to the fantastic Pirates of Pugmire story Travis Legge ran for us, both parts of which are available on our channel! Here’s episode one: https://youtu.be/fU9y3tl77GM

Darker Days Radio interviewed a bunch of Onyx Pathers and Matt Timm from Modiphius at the UK Games Expo, the recording of which is here: http://podcast.darker-days.org/e/109-darker-days-radio-live-at-ukge/

And Roll the Role recently concluded an excellent Trinity actual play that can still be viewed on their Twitch channel here! https://twitch.tv/rolltherole/profile?desktop-redirect=offline_channel

Please check any of these out and let us know if you find or produce any actual plays of our games!

ELECTRONIC GAMING

As we find ways to enable our community to more easily play our games, the Onyx Dice Rolling App is now live! Our dev team has been doing updates since we launched based on the excellent use-case comments by our community, and this thing is awesome! (Seriously, you need to roll 100 dice for Exalted? This app has you covered.)

ON AMAZON AND BARNES & NOBLE:

You can now read our fiction from the comfort and convenience of your Kindle (from Amazon) and Nook (from Barnes & Noble).

If you enjoy these or any other of our books, please help us by writing reviews on the site of the sales venue from which you bought it. Reviews really, really help us get folks interested in our amazing fiction!

Our selection includes these fiction books:

OUR SALES PARTNERS:

We’re working with Studio2 to get Pugmire and Monarchies of Mau out into stores, as well as to individuals through their online store. You can pick up the traditionally printed main book, the screen, and the official Pugmire dice through our friends there! https://studio2publishing.com/search?q=pugmire

We’ve added Prince’s Gambit to our Studio2 catalog: https://studio2publishing.com/products/prince-s-gambit-card-game

Now, we’ve added Changeling: The Lost 2nd Edition products to Studio2‘s store! See them here: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/all-products/changeling-the-lost

Scarred Lands (Pathfinder) books are also on sale at Studio2, and they have the 5e version, supplements, and dice as well!: https://studio2publishing.com/collections/scarred-lands

Looking for our Deluxe or Prestige Edition books? Try this link! http://www.indiepressrevolution.com/xcart/Onyx-Path-Publishing/

And you can now order Pugmire, Monarchies of Mau, Cavaliers of Mars, and Changeling: The Lost 2e at the same link!

On Sale This Week!

This Wednesday, we’re releasing print versions of both Origin and Hero for Scion Second Edition on DriveThruRPG and in stores!

CONVENTIONS!

Gen Con: August 1st – 4th Save Against Fear: October 12th – 14th GameHoleCon: October 31st – November 3rd We’ll also be back at PAX Unplugged later this year!

And now, the new project status updates!

DEVELOPMENT STATUS FROM EDDY WEBB, COMPILED FOR THE FIRST TIME BY DIXIE COCHRAN (projects in bold have changed status since last week):

First Draft (The first phase of a project that is about the work being done by writers, not dev prep)

M20 Victorian Mage (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Geist2e Fiction Anthology (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Exalted Essay Collection (Exalted)

Scion: Demigod (Scion 2nd Edition)

Trinity Continuum Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum Core)

Wraith20 Fiction Anthology (Wraith: The Oblivion 20th Anniversary Edition)

One Foot in the Grave Jumpstart (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2e)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #2 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Exigents (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Terra Firma (Trinity Continuum: Aeon) Titanomachy (Scion 2nd Edition)

Crucible of Legends (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Many-Faced Strangers – Lunars Companion (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Redlines

Monsters of the Deep (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Tales of Aquatic Terror (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

Scion: Dragon (Scion 2nd Edition)

Kith and Kin (Changeling: The Lost 2e)

Masks of the Mythos (Scion 2nd Edition)

Second Draft?

Tales of Good Dogs – Pugmire Fiction Anthology (Pugmire)

Dragon-Blooded Novella #1 (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Across the Eight Directions (Exalted 3rd Edition)

TC: Aeon Ready-Made Characters (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition core rulebook (Mummy: The Curse 2nd Edition)

City of the Towered Tombs (Cavaliers of Mars)

TC: Aeon Jumpstart (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Legendlore core book (Legendlore)

Development?

WoD Ghost Hunters (World of Darkness)

Oak, Ash, and Thorn: Changeling: The Lost 2nd Companion (Changeling: The Lost 2nd)

M20 The Technocracy Reloaded (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

Creatures of the World Bestiary (Scion 2nd Edition)

Heirs to the Shogunate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Scion Companion: Mysteries of the World (Scion 2nd Edition)

Deviant: The Renegades (Deviant: The Renegades)

Chicago Folio/Dossier (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Let the Streets Run Red (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Cults of the Blood Gods (Vampire: The Masquerade 5th Edition)

Heroic Land Dwellers (They Came From Beneath the Sea!)

DR:E Threat Guide (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

DR:E Jumpstart (Dystopia Rising: Evolution)

Manuscript Approval

Trinity Continuum: Aberrant core (Trinity Continuum: Aberrant)

Pirates of Pugmire (Realms of Pugmire)

Hunter: The Vigil 2e core (Hunter: The Vigil 2nd Edition)

Editing

Memento Mori: the GtSE 2e Companion (Geist: The Sin-Eaters 2nd Edition)

Night Horrors: Nameless and Accursed (Mage: the Awakening Second Edition)

Spilled Blood (Vampire: The Requiem 2nd Edition)

Lunars: Fangs at the Gate (Exalted 3rd Edition)

Post-Editing Development

M20 Book of the Fallen (Mage: the Ascension 20th Anniversary Edition)

V5 Chicago By Night (Vampire: The Masquerade)V5 Chicago By Night Screen (Vampire: The Masquerade)

CofD Contagion Chronicle (Chronicles of Darkness)

Witch-Queen of the Shadowed Citadel (Cavaliers of Mars)

Distant Worlds (Trinity Continuum: Aeon)

Scion Ready-Made Characters (Scion 2nd Edition)

Blood Sea: The Crimson Abyss (Scarred Lands)

Dark Eras 2 (Chronicles of Darkness)

Indexing

Trinity Aeon

ART DIRECTION FROM MIRTHFUL MIKE!

In Art Direction

Contagion Chronicle

Scion Ready-Made Characters – Art is in.

Dark Eras 2

M20 Book of the Fallen – Drew’s finals in

VtR Spilled Blood

Trinity Continuum Aeon: Distant Worlds

Trinity Continuum Aberrant – Sketches

Hunter: The Vigil 2e

Ex3 Lunars

They Came From Beneath the Sea

Ex3 Monthly Stuff

In Layout

V5: Chicago

Trinity Core 

CoM – Witch Queen of the Shadowed Citadel 

Proofing

WtF Shunned by the Moon

Signs of Sorcery – At WW for approval

DR: E

Scion Jumpstart

Aeon Aexpansion

C20 Cup of Dreams

Ex 3 Monthlies – At WW for approval

At Press

Dragon Blooded – Deluxe Printing

Dragon-Blooded Cloth Map – at press

Dragon-Blooded Wallpapers – Going out to backers

Dragon-Blooded Screen – Printing

The Realm – Gathering errata

Trinity Core Screen – Printing

TC Aeon Screen – Printing

Tales of Excellent Cats

C20 Player’s Guide – Gathering Errata

Adventures for Curious Cats

Geist 2e – Gathering Errata

Book of Oblivion – Out to backers

Trinity: In Media Res

Scion: Hero – Wednesday

Scion Origin – Wednesday

Today’s This Month’s Reason to Celebrate!

It’s Pride Month! This year marks the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall riots, so let’s remember Marsha P. Johnson, Sylvia Rivera, Brenda Howard, and all the other activists throughout the years who made Pride possible. Happy Pride to all our LGBTQI+ fans and freelancers, and I hope any celebrations you attend are amazing!

#Onyx Path Publishing

[its-spelled-maille]

Any advice in how to be more aggressive or confident in sparring? I do classical stuff right but want to join a hema/wma club soon. I want my defences to be better but for the most part all I find myself doing is being reactionary on the floor. Sometimes I even stand stock still waiting to party or repost, lots of times I'll get hit. Do I need to practice enough until I can attack reflexively or without thinking? Or do I need to fundamentally change my mentality going into a bout?

I have a ‘freezing’ problem too, and there’s two ways to get around that. I recommend you try both of them. 

1. Drill. 

Drilling sucks and is boring, but you have to do it in order to develop muscle memory. Muscle memory prevents freezing. For more effective and less boring drilling, I suggest setting up a ‘scenario’ rather than just drilling a single technique. Tell your partner something like “attack me with one of these three specific techniques, and then after I counter it, we go like normal until somebody gets hit”. That will build your muscle memory to countering those techniques on the fly, rather than only learning to counter them when you know they’re coming. And also, it’ll train you not to freeze right after you counter. 

2. Back yourself into a corner.

Another problem similar to freezing I have is retreating from otherwise easily counterable attacks when a parry is almost always the superior option for actually wanting to win the fight. To get over this, back yourself into the very edge of the strip and practice holding your ground even when the opponent gets uncomfortably close. I fight much better when cornered because I’m a coward. 

Now, about going to HEMA from classical fencing...

It sucks, but you have to unlearn everything you’ve learned in order to go from classical fencing to HEMA. Nothing will fuck you up more in HEMA than being good at classical/olympic fencing. I know that because I came to HEMA from classical fencing.

Classical fencing is not HEMA, it’s not even a martial art, it’s 100% a sport. A fencing bout is in no way representative of any kind of sword fight.

There is still hope, though. I can list out several instances of muscle memory from classical fencing that have screwed me up in HEMA, so that you can get to work on unlearning them as quickly as you can and make the transition easier. 

1. Moving in 3D space.

Classical fencing only allows you to move forward and backwards, but in HEMA and in real fights you can run all over. Practice dodging to the left and right and circling your opponent. Practice ‘triangle stepping’ and stepping ‘off-line’ rather than directly towards your opponent. ‘Off-line’ attacks are much harder to defend against.

2. Crossing your legs.

This is the biggest thing that messes me up in HEMA that’s the fault of classical fencing, because I do longsword, and while this applies less to one-handed HEMA weapons than two-handed, it’s still good to know in general. There is a time and place for the classical fencing lunge in HEMA, but that time and place is very rare. Most of the time it’ll just result in a very weak attack that wouldn’t have even hurt your opponent if they had stood still and watched it, as well as giving them a free pass to take control of the ‘weak’ of your blade. Power and velocity in HEMA are generated primarily by rotation of the hips and shoulders, not by the arms or wrist, and crossing your legs during your attack is a good way to rotate your hips while also maximizing swing range. In the heat of the moment, it’s easy to fall back into a fencing step instead of a HEMA step. You’ll need to drill that out of your system. 

2.5. Foot position.

In classical fencing, you put your feet far apart and perfectly lined up; this is because there is no grappling/wrestling in classical fencing. This position is good for fast lunges, but makes you easy to knock over. In HEMA, you need to put your feet a more comfortable, medium distance apart and make sure that you put your back foot out a little. This makes you harder to shove in a grapple. 

3. Controlling opponent’s weapon.

In my classical fencing school, they outright penalized me for doing this, but in HEMA you really need to learn to have your sword touching your opponent and your opponent’s weapon at the same time so as to prevent double-hits. In classical fencing, they either assign one fencer the winner on a double-hit, or they assign both fencers the winner. In HEMA, like a real fight, and double-hit means both fighters lose. The actual primary objective of HEMA is not to hit, but to avoid being hit, usually by killing your opponent so he can’t swing anymore. If you get hit in the process, you failed. Don’t be afraid to clash blades. 

3.5. Right-of-way.

In classical fencing, they settle a double-hit by who has ‘right-of-way’, but in real life and HEMA, hitting first(or gently touching your opponent’s blade and then hitting him after he hits you) doesn’t throw up a magical shield that protects you from harm. If you both get hit, you both die, and nobody’s happy. You’ll have to learn to prioritize defense over scoring. If you see that your opponent is completely open, but you’re also completely open, the classical fencing instinct is to strike first and let right-of-way win you the exchange, but in HEMA your priority is to survive. Even if you stab your opponent through the heart, he still has one good swing left in him before he dies, and he’ll take it(that’s actually how King Arthur died in the legend). So cover your own openings before you even think about exploiting your opponent’s. 

That’s all the pitfalls I can think of for now. I hope to hear about you getting into HEMA and how you’re doing with it at some point. Good luck, and don’t be discouraged by slow or seemingly plateauing improvement. HEMA improvement is agonizingly slow, and requires more muscle involvement than classical fencing, but it’s a very fulfilling activity all the same. 

- mod Sallet

[katrinawritesthings]

Junghee/Taeyeon; Fucktown Academy (Part 1/4): PG-13

so hey au where tae goes to a school for Troublemaker Kids (tm) and jung’s the new nanogirl that tae has to show around and it’s just jung never shutting up and tae barely ever talking and both of them being Real Gay

“If we go back here,” Taeyeon mumbles, sticking her hand through the gap between the fence and the gate to finegle the latch open. She shoulders the gate open and tugs Junghee through it and onto the little dirt path that winds away from the library and into the little ravine behind the school. “We’ll go behind the prep dorms and wind up at the observatory.” She points lazily into the distance where they can’t see the top of the building over the rocks.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” Junghee asks as she fits the latch back into place.

“No,” Taeyeon says, and tugs Junghee forward.

ao3

1-2-3-4

What Taeyeon loves the most about her butterfly knife is that the tip of the blade is the perfect shape and size for picking grunk out from under her fingernails. She lies on her bed, one leg bent at the knee and the other crossed over it, foot bobbing lazily in the air, as she works a little speck of dirt away from her pinky. The metallic mint green of it is a nice color too and she’s glad she spent the extra money for that. She rubs the dirt off of the blade with her thumb before wiggling it gently back under her pinky nail to pick out another.

Outside, the sun lowers orange and heavy through her window, warming her skin but thankfully not shining in her eyes. She got in trouble for moving her bed to just the right position to attain that feat, but no one ever actually made her move it back, so. She’s the winner here.

Her pinky nail is getting a little too long, she thinks, so after she finishes cleaning under it she turns her knife and uses it to cut it down to a better size. She flicks the clipped nail in the general direction of her garbage can and holds her pinky close to her face to inspect it better. Yeah. Looks g--

“Taeyeon.” A sharp knock on her door and a sharper voice make her look up. Her knife is flicked closed and slotted into her long sleeve before the dorm leader opens the door without waiting for permission and barges in like usual.

Unlike usual, she’s followed by another person, someone with dark brown eyes and a long brown ponytail and warm golden skin. They have on casual clothes, ripped skinny jeans and a grungy band tshirt, but over their shoulder is a bag and over their arm is a set of school clothes. Taeyeon looks them up and down quietly once before looking back to the authority figure in the room.

“This is Junghee,” she says, placing a hand on Junghee’s shoulder that looks entirely unwanted if the quick scowl Junghee sends her is any indicator. “She’s your new roommate. Be nice. Show her around. And--” she gives Taeyeon a hard, warning look--”Don’t scare this one away.” And then she’s gone, walking back outside and closing the door behind her. Taeyeon snorts at her back. She didn’t scare her old roommates away. They were just too neurotypical for her.

“Hi,” Junghee says, and Taeyeon looks back to her. She doesn’t look scared, or intimidated; just annoyed and grumpy to be here, an emotion that Taeyeon can relate to.

“Hey,” she says, and slips her knife back out of her sleeve. She flips it open to continue doing her nails, foot starting to bob in the air again automatically. “Just throw all my shit on your bed at the end of mine, I’ll clean it up later,” she says, gesturing with her knife to the pile of clothes she’d been throwing on the spare bed on the other side of her room since her last roommate moved out. “Welcome to Fucktown Academy,” she adds in a mumble, remembering the order to be nice. Junghee’s soft snort is barely audible.

“They allow switchblades in Fucktown Academy?” she asks. When Taeyeon glances at her she’s shrugging her bag off of her shoulder and onto her new bed. She looks back to her nails.

“It’s a gravity knife,” she says, “and no.” She shaves off a little extra nail from her pointer finger. “Why, you gonna tell on me?” she asks. She really doesn’t care if Junghee does or not. She has her usual hiding spots for when teachers come snooping in her business. A soft flump at her feet makes her glance up again at the pile of clothes that now sits there.

“I don’t know, are you in here for stabbing someone?” Junghee asks. She’s already turned back to fix her bedsheets out and pick up her pillow to inspect. Taeyeon watches her for another few seconds before focusing on her nails and snorting softly.

“This isn’t jail,” she says. No need to talk like it is. This time Junghee scoffs, yanks the zipper of her bag with a little more force than Taeyeon thinks is usual.

“No, it’s where rich parents send their rulebreaking kids when they’ve gotten into too much trouble and no other schools will take them anymore,” she mutters. “They can act like it’s some regular fancy private school but we all know. It’s like they think we don’t know how to research the shit they’re sending us to. It’s like they don’t care that we know that they’re just dumping us here so they don’t have to deal with us anymore.” Taeyeon hums shortly as she contemplates the length of her middle fingernail. She’s not too far off, honestly.

“You know how fucked up it is, to even have schools like this, by the way?” Junghee adds. Taeyeon hears her pulling stuff out of her bag and tossing it all onto her bed. “Like, just to pile a bunch of troubled kids together and act like fancy uniforms and a prestigious name and constant discipline for the tiniest infractions is the key to ‘fixing’ us instead of, oh, I don’t know, personal attention for each individual child and actually taking the time to understand the reasoning behind their behavior? Not to even fucking mention the disproportionate race populations--you know half these kids wouldn’t be here if they were white--or the higher ratio of neurodivergent and queer and, just, you know, oppressed kids? This whole place is fucked up, don’t get me started.”

Taeyeon hums again as she carefully carves little nicks in her nail to make it pointy like shark teeth. She thought Junghee already had started. So far her first impression of her new roommate is talkative.

“Like, the only reason this place isn’t full of poor kids too is because the school is more interested in taking in money than actually helping the students, and--”

“I’m not in here for stabbing anyone,” Taeyeon says blandly. She glances up to gauge how Junghee feels about being interrupted. She’s glancing back at Taeyeon, just a regular searching look instead of a pissed and offended one. Nice.

“I don’t care about your knife then,” Junghee tells her. She turns back to her bag to keep unpacking her stuff. Taeyeon looks back to her business as well. That’s also nice.

“So what are you in here for then, fellow delinquent?” she asks. Junghee snorts as she pulls out a whole ass pillow from her bag, pink and fluffy, and drops it on top of the school one.

“Forty-seven different reasons, give or take,” she says. “Do you want the long version or the short version?” She glances over her shoulder after she asks to look at Taeyeon like she’s waiting for an answer. Taemin feels like she’ll wind up getting a long story either way, so she shrugs and taps her spiky nail against her thumb to see how it feels.

“Long,” she shrugs. Why not. Junghee nods and moves to start organizing her desk in the corner of the room.

“So the first time I got suspended, I was seven,” she says, pulling out a Sailor Moon figure and placing casually it on the desk. “I don’t really remember all of the details, but. It was Friday, right , during arts and crafts time, and my fucko teacher was being a real shit and--okay, lemme explain him first, actually, it’ll make more sense.”

~

“And then again in second grade, in the third school, like, there was the most awful little goblin boy, his name was Andrew. And every day, every fucking day he would touch me, because I had to walk passed his desk to get to my desk, right. And I told him every time to get his ugly goblin hands off of me, but of course he didn’t listen, because of course his shitty parents didn’t teach him basic respect, and when I told the teacher she just said that he liked me, to which I replied, “alright then, I guess you won’t mind if I grab your ass every time you walk by me, right?” Which, on top of all the other shit--this was like a month in, remember, so I was already considered a mouthy little shit by the teachers at this school too--got me suspended. And you might be thinking, like, ‘Junghee, why did you threaten the teacher instead of threatening the boy?’ And to which I would say, that I did threaten the boy, when I got back from my suspension, because obviously my teacher wasn’t going to do shit. And then after me warning him for three days--which was honestly a really fucking impressive amount of time to restrain myself--I punched him in the mouth and broke two of his teeth. And of course they didn’t care that it was self-defense. So that’s how I got expelled a third time.”

Junghee has a really pretty profile.

Taeyeon sits with her head in her hand, her fingers stimming with the short hairs of her wavy blonde undercut, her elbow propped up on the desk, and just watches Junghee talk, mildly interested. Junghee is looking down at her literature work, scribbling her way through worksheets and vocab shit without breaking stride in her story. Her nose is soft and round, her lips thick and plush, her jaw sharp and square, her eyelashes long and delicate, her ponytail draped soft and long over her shoulder. There’s something about her face, maybe something in her makeup or her lotion, that makes her skin have the faintest glitter. As she speaks, sometimes, her mouth moves in just the right way that a particular little speck of glitter on her cheek twinkles at Taeyeon.

“Probably wouldn’t have been expelled if it wasn’t right after I got back from being suspended,” she’s saying, a contemplative little puff to her lips. “But, you know. Whatever.” She shrugs and flips her pencil around to erase something. “So then I was schoolless for a while, but not as long as the last time before my parents found me a new place. So, this is still second grade, and I didn’t get expelled again yet, but--”

She’s cut off by the bell ringing to end the class. Taeyeon glances at the clock as she stands up and pulls her bag over her shoulder. Neat. Junghee takes more time to get up because she has to shove all of her work into her bag first, but when she finally stands up, she looks expectantly at Taeyeon.

“Where now, boss?” she asks. Taeyeon snorts at the new title, but reaches to tug once on Junghee’s sleeve to get her to follow.

“Nowhere,” she says. “Lit class is last on Mondays. Now I go back to the dorm and chill.” She gestures blandly in the direction of the dorm rooms as they leave the classroom, then looks at Junghee out of the corner of her eye. “Unless you want a tour of the school,” she adds. That should probably be included in the whole “show her around” thing that she’s supposed to be doing. At the suggestion, though, Junghee scrunches her nose.

“That’ll be so much work,” she mumbles. “I’m tired. Give me a tour on the weekend or something.” She stops at a vending machine in the hallway to get a water bottle. Taeyeon takes it from her hand after she takes her first drink and has a sip for herself, then hits four of the buttons on the machine and kicks it on the left side, then collects the four quarters that tinkle into the change slot, and hands it all back. Junghee takes another drink and pockets the change without commenting on her hacking skills or the theft.

“Anyway,” she says after swallowing. “So second grade, fourth school. By now I’m realizing that all schools are the same bullshit. Kinda early I guess, but we already know I was a cynical little eight year old.”

“Mmhmm,” Taeyeon hums. She stuffs her hands into the pockets of her slacks as they leave the school building. Her fingers play with the half stick of chalk she snapped and stole from math class earlier. The teacher hasn’t said anything but she knows that he knows that someone is fucking with him.

Junghee keeps talking as they walk across the campus to the dorms, and then as they enter the dorms, and then when Taeyeon flops and melts into her bed. Junghee sits on her own bed and pulls out a notebook that Taeyeon didn’t see her using in any of their classes earlier. It looks like there's just short lines of words written, crossed out, and heavily edited; poetry or something. Taeyeon isn’t sure how Junghee plans to write some artsy shit while also telling her life story, but she doesn’t seem to find it difficult at all.

“And it’s like, yeah, I was right, but also, like, I didn’t start to grasp the concept of picking my battles until, like, sophomore year, so,” she says as she reads over what she has written down. Taeyeon closes her eyes and runs her spiky nail back and forth over the pad of her thumb in a very nice new stim as she listens.

And listens, and listens, and listens some more. Junghee can really go on for a while. Taeyeon is impressed; she can’t hold a conversation for more than half an hour without getting a sore throat. Half the time she can’t even talk.

When the sun starts going down she yawns and turns to her side to watch Junghee speak instead of keeping her eyes closed or staring at the ceiling like usual. She’s speaking through a bitten lip as she focuses on her work. Her left hand writes out words and her right plays with her long ponytail. She twists it through her fingers, brushes it slowly, plays with the ends. Taeyeon watches her hair shift and move against her hand in a daze. It looks really soft.

“So, I’m coming up on the end of second grade in this school relatively okay, but, like--”

“Can I play with your hair?” Taeyeon asks. Junghee pauses and looks up; after a few moments, Taeyeon flicks her gaze from her ponytail to her nose and back to pretend to make eye contact for a second. She’s found that that helps in asking for permission for things. After another moment, Junghee shrugs.

“Sure, but you come over here,” she says, pointing at Taeyeon and then to the bed. “I’m not moving.”

“Okay,” Taeyeon mumbles. She takes a deep breath, rolls herself off of the bed, catches herself before she falls all the way, and straightens up with a stretch and a yawn. Digging in her desk drawers first, she pushes aside her collection of color-organized paper hole punch holes and grabs her secret packet of cookies. Then she shuffles over to Junghee’s bed and gets on.

“They let you stash food in here?” Junghee asks, frowning at her cookies. “Sit behind me,” she adds, scooting forward a little.

“No,” Taeyeon says, and offers Junghee a cookie as she wiggles behind her, legs on either side of her hips. “Gonna tell on me?” she asks.

“No,” Junghee says around her cookie. She leans back against Taeyeon, nuzzles into her neck, breathes deep, and lets out a relaxed breath. “So, anyway, I make it to the end of the year fine, but everyone knows I’m loud and feisty or whatever, so everyone’s, like, pre wary of me going into third grade,” she says. Taeyeon thinks it’s rad how she can just pick up where she left off with no problem.

She picks up Junghee’s ponytail and tugs it gently from in front of her to more of the side, where she can run her fingers through its length and appreciate the softness. It’s a relaxing movement for her arm as well and she breathes easy, closing her eyes again and resting her cheek on the top of Junghee’s head. When she’s done with her snack she slips her other arm around Junghee’s waist to hold her close for comfort. This is so nice.

And it’s even nicer when, half an hour later, Junghee reaches behind herself during in her story of her fifth expulsion to tug her hair bobble off. She spreads her fingers to slide it down to bracelet her wrist and then goes back to her writing. Taeyeon at first pouts at the loss of the easy access, but once she threads her fingers all the way through Junghee’s hair a few times, she discovers a very familiar scratchy sensation.

“Oh my god, you have an undercut,” she breathes. Immediately her palm is against the back of Junghee’s head, fingers rubbing the short hairs gently and making her whole hand all tingly. This is incredibly nice. Junghee hums a small noise of agreement in the middle of her story and keeps going.

~

The bustle and chatter of the cafeteria hurts Taeyeon’s head, but she has a headphone in her right ear and she’s leaning the other side of her head against Junghee’s, so it’s not too overwhelming yet. She can handle it. And Junghee asked her to bring her to the school queers, so she brought Junghee to the school queers. The good ones anyway; the ones that haven’t been assholes to her.  Eunsook, Gwi, and Minjung, all in their usual little circle table in the corner of the room, accepted them into their little group easily. Now Junghee sits and munches her way through an ugly school lunch while she talks to her new friends.

Taeyeon already ate during their second class so she just chills, eyes closed, one hand stimming with her spiky nail and the other stimming with Junghee’s undercut. She thinks it’s very nice of Junghee to let her keep doing this near constantly over the passed three days.

The other three asked for the short version of how Junghee got here, which, like Taeyeon expected, is still pretty long. Lunch is almost over and she hasn’t even gotten from her first expulsion to where she was with Taeyeon somewhere in the middle of fourth grade. Taeyeon is only half listening to the review of the story because it helps her keep her mind off of the rest of the noise in the room.

“Did you ever think, like, maybe you should keep your mouth shut?” Minjung asks lazily. “So you wouldn’t get in trouble?”

“No,” Junghee says promptly. “Anyway, so then I told her that she shouldn’t be in charge of children if she didn’t know how to talk to them like they were human beings instead of, like, animals, and maybe she should go be a vet instead since she seemed more qualified for it, which as you can imagine didn’t go down too well with the literal principal, so.” When she shifts to get more comfortable on the bench her thigh rubs and presses against Taeyeon’s. Taeyeon blinks her eyes open sleepily to look down at where their sides are pressed together. Hmm. That’s warm and good.

“Please tell me the rest of the school found out you said that and--”

“Can I hold you in my lap?” Taeyeon asks, tapping the back of Junghee’s head lightly to get her attention.

“Don’t interrupt me,” Gwi snaps. Taeyeon glances up at their little frown, shrugs, and looks back to nudge Junghee’s head with her nose.

“You’re warm,” she murmurs.

“Sure,” Junghee says. She slips her bag off of her lap and moves to sit on top of Taeyeon’s thighs, wiggling to get comfortable as Taeyeon wraps her arms snug around her and fits her chin on her shoulder. Her weight is a heavy pressure that makes Taeyeon feel warm on the inside. Nice.

“I always knew you were a giant lesbian too,” Eunsook says fondly. Taeyeon snorts without looking up.

“Of course I’m a fucking lesbian, have you seen me?” she asks. She doesn’t know what kind of not lesbian would wear as much denim and plaid as she does, or go to the lengths to modify a school uniform to include so much denim and plaid. Plus all the other smaller shit she’s sure Eunsook just picked up on because she also knows the lesbian code.

“Oh, that reminds me,” Junghee says, snapping her fingers. She sounds like she has a broad smirk on her lips as she says, “One time I got expelled because I was talking about my gaydar and then when a cishet tried to straightsplain to me why gaydar is a bad thing I corrected her so thoroughly she ran to the teacher and told them the big mean lesbian--I’m pan--was harassing her.” She finds Taeyeon’s hand on her stomach and lifts it up to the back of her head; Taeyeon rubs her thumb over her undercut again immediately. She guesses Junghee likes it too, then. Rad. “But that was, like, two years ago,” Junghee adds. “Back to third grade.”

Without Junghee’s head to muffle the cafeteria noise, Taeyeon pulls out her other earbud and wiggles it into her left ear. From there, Junghee’s voice is just a quiet murmur and Taeyeon dozes off easily until she’s poked awake for their last class.

~

“And then here behind the--hup--library,” Taeyeon says, getting her hands on the cracked low wall and hoisting herself up. She drops back down in the dirt on the other side and turns to watch Junghee follow and hold her hand as she hops down. “If you hop that wall and follow that little path right, you’ll wind up hopping another wall and landing in the ugly little lawn gnome habitat the preps have set up by their dorms.” She scrunches her nose in distaste. Like it wasn’t ugly enough that they have a lawn for no reason, they had to populate it with expensive ass high quality gnomes instead of cheap funny ones. A double waste.

“Lawns are such classist trash,” Junghee says as she fixes the school hoodie that she borrowed from Taeyeon around her waist. She said she would give it back once she got around to buying one herself from the school shop, but Taeyeon doesn’t mind. Her entire wardrobe is just hoodies, binders, and jeans. It’s not like she doesn’t have a bunch to spare. And it was one of the hoodies she hadn’t gotten around to sewing weights into yet so she wasn’t going to wear it any time soon anyway. She hums in agreement of Junghee’s continued little grumbles about lawns and slips her arm around her shoulders to tug her forward and to the chain link fence that encloses this little area.

“If we go back here,” she mumbles, sticking her hand through the gap between the fence and the gate to finegle the latch open. She shoulders the gate open and tugs Junghee through it and onto the little dirt path that winds away from the library and into the little ravine behind the school. “We’ll go behind the prep dorms and wind up at the observatory.” She points lazily into the distance where they can’t see the top of the building over the rocks.

“Are we allowed to be back here?” Junghee asks as she fits the latch back into place.

“No,” Taeyeon says, and tugs Junghee forward.

“Thought so,” Junghee mutters, and follows. “This wasn’t what I meant when I asked for a tour, you know. You’re not in here for trespassing, are you?” she asks.

“No,” Taeyeon says again.

“Mm,” Junghee hums, and then, “Where was I?” she asks.

“Fifth grade, school one, suspension one,” Taeyeon says.

“Right,” Junghee says. “So, like, I didn’t get expelled, yet, but that was the first time I got suspended at this school, so I had the reputation and the warning, you know? Though this wasn’t like a bad reputation or anything, like, everyone knew it was just a technicality, and like, the rubber chicken thing was awesome, so. I’m good so far.” The sun peeps at them through thin layers of clouds, too covered up to be warm but not covered enough to stop shining into Taeyeon’s eyes if she looks the wrong way. Inconvenient.

She slips her hand up to rub Junghee’s undercut again. She couldn’t do this yesterday because yesterday Junghee decided to spend her Friday night doing whatever it is that the queers do on Friday nights. Taeyeon saw them chilling outside the music store when she biked over to the town to grab the week’s new comic book releases, so she guesses it was that. She’s glad they had a nice time.

This is a nice time too, just walking through the ravine with a cute nanogirl under her arm. Taeyeon should do this more often. Maybe when it gets warmer. For now, she yawns into the back of her hand and stares at their feet as they kick up little poofs of dirt.

“What’s through that tunnel there?”

“What’s what?” Taeyeon asks. She looks up, confused, at Junghee, who’s looking at her, also confused. Junghee points behind her.

“The t--”

“Oh, the tunnel, yeah,” Taeyeon says as her processing catches up. She knows what Junghee meant, yeah. The little walkway in the rocks behind her that’s only blocked off by an easily hoppable fence and a vandalized “keep out” sign. She glances at it as they pass. “It goes to a path from the train tracks to almost all the way around the school,” she says, pointing a vague circle in the air. “It ends at that dirt path by the parking lot. Also it branches off again to a secret little beach, but sand puts me into sensory hell, so.” They’re not going there. Junghee hums shortly at her answer. Taeyeon doesn’t know what that means but she also feels like she doesn’t really have to, so. Whatever.

“Oh, wait,” she says suddenly, stopping short. That reminds her. “Here,” she says. She pulls Junghee to a small tree and sits down with her back against it. “Here,” she says again, and fumbles in her bag for the snacks she brought. “Hungry.” She’s not actually hungry, she thinks, but she can never really tell what the fuck her tummy wants from her so she finds it’s easier to just eat something every few hours anyway. She pulls out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and then holds out her bag.

“Oh, sure, thanks,” Junghee says. She sits cross legged across from Taeyeon and takes an apple and the bag of peanut butter cracker sandwiches. “Do the staff know about the secret beach?” she asks. Taeyeon pauses for a moment, thinking, and then shrugs. She’s sure some of the older staff do but she doesn’t know how much this year’s round of prefects and new teachers know. Junghee shrugs back at her and leans back on one hand to look around.

“This is so plant gay,” she mumbles. She reaches into her own bag and pulls out her notebook. Flipping it open to a green little tab, she finds a fresh page and starts writing. Taeyeon reads “plant gay and pb&j” upside down and nods. That’s gonna be a song about her all right. As she writes and eats, Junghee continues on with her life story. Taeyeon is again impressed with how well she can multitask. She can barely eat and pay attention at the same time, but she does her best because so far tiny fifth grade Junghee is turning out to be a real crackerjack.

#jongtae #jonghyun #taemin #girlee #junghee #taeyeon #fluff #fucktown academy au #pg #eunsook #minjung #gwiboon #the queers are v v important #they just chill queerly and judge all of the str8s and jungs like shit damn ur my new best friends #and theyre like yeah okay sure and show her around town #i couldnt decide which between '''kim junghees an sjw''' or '''everyone@jung: what are u some kinda fuckin sjw'''' is funnier #so u get both ur welcome #my intrusive thought the entire time was writing this: some kinda fuckin uwuwol #anygay its gay nd good and jung doesnt mind what tae wants to do with her as long as she gets to talk #and tae likes jungs voice bc its nice nd soothing nd she has interesting things to say #tae just likes chillin and being alone and being quiet and doing some mild tresspassing in her free time nbd #shes a good egg #so is jung but jung cant keep her heckin mouth shut or deescalate conflict at all but i still lov her #ydw #I FORGOT TO SAY MORE ABOUT THE QUEERS #sookie is everyones favorite hot trans butch lesbian #gwi is everyones favorite hot agender demi chasm #and minjung is everyones favorite hot pan #minjungs in there for Arson and gwis in there for skipping classes and ignoring the dress code #and sookies in there ''''bc i was just fucking Insufferable lmao all the teachers hated me but damn was i funny'''

[artificialqueens]

sinking man (dela centric) - trashqueens

a/n: [AS3 SPOILERS] I have no idea what this is. at this point I am 100% just projecting, I’m really sad about dela leaving and also just General Depression and writing is a good way to take care of my mental health, apparently. also disclaimer, I absolutely love morgan and all (okay, most) of the other queens and I’m really not trying to throw shade here or anything. all the girls deserve our utmost respect for managing to do whatever it is they do.

also I’m really interested in a rpdr/hp crossover so I really want to write that next.

I want to die.

Depression is a funny thing. It hits you when you least expect it, it comes and goes in waves, it knocks at your door and enters without needing a key. It doesn’t care whether or not you’re busy or happy or sad or stressed. It makes itself comfortable at home and when it’s here to stay, there’s no getting rid of it.

I don’t deserve to be here.

Dela has a special place in Ben’s heart. Dela’s the happy one, Dela’s everything that Ben wants to be and more. Dela’s far from perfect, and he knows it, but neither is he, and he wants that positivity in his life always. He wants to put on a costume and shine brighter than the sun. He wants to live.

I can’t go on like this.

It’s a bit like karma, a small part of him thinks. He accused Bianca of sailing her way through season six, and now he knows what it’s like to be at the top and not be allowed to slip in the slightest. He’s trying his best, because he can’t accept anything less from himself. He needs Dela to give her all, but each time she turns it out, she’s only expected to keep it up.

It’s more than he can handle.

Not good enough. Never good enough.

“You’re a little lackluster this week.”

“You need to be at a hundred and twenty percent.”

“You’re letting it get to you. Move on.”

I don’t know how. I can’t stop this.

Morgan’s face keeps appearing in his mind. He imagines her cutting words and scathing remarks, and it’s a scenario that he knows will be burned into his memory forever. He never wanted any part of this, he just wanted to share his art with the rest of the world and let Dela take over. And when even Dela’s unsure, Ben’s practically quaking. He’s absolutely terrified, he hates all conflict and confrontation - it’s just not his style at all, and he can’t deal with the resounding voices in his head -

“You understand what a hypocrite is, right?” You’re a bitch and everyone wants you gone. Morgan thinks you’re a cunt, Trixie probably doesn’t even like you, Shangela hates you. Coward.

Let me die.

Dela’s fading quickly, and he knows it. Ben’s back to his depressing thoughts. It’s a cold, dark, sea, and he doesn’t know how to make it go away. Goth kitty emerges out of nowhere, and even then the negativity is no solace. There’s no catharsis from letting it all out.

You’re stupid, this is stupid, get over it already. Christ, you’re a useless piece of shit.

Talking to Morgan resolves the conflict, eases the tension. But it’s not magically all-fixing. He can’t stop thinking about what the rest of the girls actually think of him, actually see him as. He’s scared and depressed and a little lonely. He’s surrounded by amazing, talented queens and he has no idea where he stands.

Who am I, honestly, and what the fuck am I doing?

It makes no sense to him.

Everything’s wrong, it’s so wrong and I can’t deal with this. I’m going to come apart any moment and it’s going to be a shitshow and everyone’s going to see what a fucking mess I really am.

As they should. You’re disgusting. You don’t deserve to be here.

I should just eliminate myself.

When the thought first comes to him, it almost feels like his prayers have been answered. It’s a solution he’s been waiting for, and while he’s feeling conflicted about the fact that it has to end this way, he’s not mad about it. It’s a relief, now that he knows what he has to do.

He chooses Morgan to stay. He feels like he owes it to her, a little bit, and he’s glad to give her another chance. He hopes she makes good use of it.

When the time comes for him to pull out the black lipstick, he doesn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.  It’s a strange mix of emotions and he’s - he feels resigned, in ways. It’s the only logical answer, and he knows it’s time for him to go. He hears the gasps, feels the shock, all eyes on him. He hugs the girls and tells them they’re all all-stars.

I’m coming home.

The way back home is not easy. His mind glazes over for those last few moments leaving the workroom. He’s not thinking, he’s just mindlessly packing and watching the other eliminated queens do the same. He’s lost.

I’m a winner. It doesn’t matter. I’m a winner.

It’s only when he’s in the van on the drive back to Seattle, all alone, that it finally hits him, and suddenly the tears won’t stop. He’s not even sure why, but he cries and cries and hits his fists against the dashboard until his hands hurt. No one’s around to witness it, he doesn’t know where Dela’s gone, and it’ll be hours before he’s home.

I’ve given up the crown. I’ve proven that I’m not strong enough to stay on. I’m going home.

Everything within him aches, in every sense. His mind’s exhausted from running non-stop all week, his eyes sore, and he can feel the weariness in his bones. He wants to sleep and never wake up.

I’m so tired.

When he gets home, he abandons all his luggage at the door, texts Jinkx to tell her he’s back, and then promptly collapses on his bed. He expected to pass out instantly, but instead spends hours lying there in a fit of sleeplessness. He’s home, he’s finally home, and it’s not at all the way he expected it would be.

He imagines what would have happened had he stayed, he doesn’t think about who he would have eliminated, he thinks about the rest of the remaining girls. He thinks about his fans and their plausible reaction - whether they’d be upset or angry or just not care at all. It’s too late for anything to be done, either way, and he knows it - but the craziness in his head stays.

He thinks and thinks and it’s all too much. Exhaustion finally kicks in in the early hours of the morning. One last thought comes to him in the bare moments before slumber, before he goes out. It keeps him feeling a little safe, a little warm, and a little less afraid.

Life goes on.

He falls asleep.

#trashqueens #as3 spoilers #tw mental illness #tw depression #angst #bendelacreme #rpdr fanfiction #submission #canon compliant #as3 #on set fic