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writing-good-vibes · 3 years

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brad dourif characters x reader headcanons: birthdays (fluff and smut)

requested by anon !! what do our beloveds do for your birthday (spoiler, they (pretty much) all spoil you) warning for smut. more notes in tags

charles lee ray

avoids his own birthday but goes all out for yours

buys (or steals, don't ask) you a lot of presents

i mean a lot !!

new tv (stolen)

a lot of lingerie (classy)

you have a very late night the night before (takes you to a very rough bar)

lazy morning

expect a very happy birthday fuck to start the day

doesn't make you breakfast because he hates cooking

but does go out for coffee and your takeout breakfast of choice to bring home for you

has a cake professionally made/decorated

(because you made one for his birthday)

the message on top is something v horny like "your pussy tastier than this"

or it's like one word like "whore <3"

either way it is both hilarious and embarrassing that some poor bakery worker had to frost those words

takes you out for dinner (very fancy restaurant)

or to the movies

another happy birthday fuck when you get home

("how old are you again? guess that's how many rounds we've gotta get through tonight")

billy bibbit

billy doesn't much like his own birthday (his mom was too overbearing for him to ever properly enjoy himself)

but he is great at organising yours

lazy morning

as many kisses as years you are old

makes you breakfast in bed because he is a sweetheart

he makes you a present !!

he's actually really good at drawing and he fills a notebook with little drawings and pictures

(drawings of you and of things you love and one at the end of himself that he's embarrassed about but you love it)

then immediately thinks it isn't good enough and that he should of just bought you something

but you kiss him and reassure him that it's beautiful

the best present you've ever been given

you stay in that night to cook dinner together

he's definitely made you a cake !!

is it very aesthetic and the frosting is your favourite colour/flavour

sitting outside to watch the sunset !!

sheriff brackett

does everything in his power to make the day extra special for you

(has told his deputy not to bother him unless something really important happens)

buys you a sentimental/thoughtful gift

like some fancy thing related to your favourite hobby (e.g. expensive art supplies if you're an artist, etc.)

breakfast in bed !!

in your underwear, sun coming in through the windows

definitely the kind of guy to get ballons and banners to decorate the house with

(which is embarrassing but also wholesome)

takes you out to dinner at a very tasteful restaurant

you are birthday girl and he won't let you forget it

he's set the bar pretty high sex wise so has to pull out all the stops to make it extra special

clear your diary for the next 3 to 5 hours

("daddy's allowed to treat the birthday girl")

jack dante

forgets your birthday every time

its not that he doesnt care

but he has a lot going on

and keeping track of time whilst he's down in that basement is easier said than done

when you remind him that it is your birthday he gets more excited than you

sends you out to get cake and jelly and ice cream

which you begrudgingly go and get because you really think he might cry if you dont

sex is abundant but when is it not with jack

as it is your birthday he might be kind enough to give you a reach around whilst he rails you

when he actually gets you a present

(usually like a week late)

its either something actually brilliant (like the latest futurist technology (idk what they had in fake-future-2003))

or its something real fucking sleazy like a weirdo dildo ("so you don't get lonely when i'm not around")

doc cochran

would rather die than celebrate his own birthday

but he wants you to be happy on yours

(and every day)

gets you the best present

(where from? he has his ways)

definitely like some first edition copy of a niche book you like (poe, shakespeare, homer, that kind of thing)

makes sure he has no scheduled visits that day and wants to spend as much time with you as possible

(will personally beat Al's ass if he sends for him for no reason)

you spend the day talking about this and that

and he reads to you from the books he got you because goddamn does he have a beautiful voice

gets jewel to bake you a cake !!

gives you some special loving on your special day

this man knows how to take his time

usually he is busy and feels like he doesn't pay enough attention to you

so he makes up for it ten fold on your birthday

grima wormtongue

for a long while your relationship is pretty casual so he doesnt even know when your birthday is

once he actually figures out when your birthday is he wants to do something special

even if he isn't the most... emotionally open person

grima has sticky fingers so he tends to be able to get a hold of things that others cant

gets you something exotic, something you might not of ever even seen before

(think, pineapples or some other middle earth equivalent delicacy)

you appreciate him going out of his way for you

makes an excuse for you to leave meduseld with him

you go up to the fields and look out at the horizon

tommy ludlow

you both bunk off work to spend the day together

he is excellent at buying present(s)

knows exactly what to get you because he's a good listener

definitely gets you a record or new clothes

neither of you have much money so all your plans are always simple

but tommy is the perfect person to just hang out with, he's so mellow when he's with you

has no plans for the day except letting you do whatever you want

you drive around the city

end up going by the natural history museum

(because both of you are actually secretly soft and love holding hands and wandering around the exhibits)

or the met (because you both know your fair share about art, working around fashion shoots all day)

that night you go to some shady dive bar

(and drink too much, if that is your thing)

tumbling in through your front door, you two were never going to make it to the bedroom

"happy birthday" he smirks against you as you both lay, tired, on the living room floor

leo nova

spends so much money on you

mostly because he likes to show off his money

("when can i treat my girl to all that she deserves if not on her birthday?")

but partly because gift giving is his love language, or at least the only way he feels comfortable showing that he cares

a new dress that costs more than the rent on your old apartment, shoes that cost twice as much

takes you to the fanciest restaurant possible

and then fucks you in the dirtiest way possible when you get home

and he can go all night long

*wink wink*

tucker cleveland

hasnt celebrated his own birthday in years so has kind of forgot that birthdays are a thing

remembers yours like 3 days before and kicks himself for leaving it so late to get you a present

(you help him out by giving hint to what you want in the run up to your birthday)

keeps the whole thing very lowkey

which you don't mind, you're not into big celebrations anyway

he does get you a gift in time, thanks to your hints

he's probably at work during the day

but after he gets home and you have dinner together, he hands over his present

although you sort of already knew what it'd be, its definitely the thought that counts with tucker

"and the best is yet to come, don't you worry" he says smiling

of course, the real present is him pounding you over the table

(because who has the time to go up to bed)

#brad dourif x reader #charles lee ray x reader #jack dante x reader #billy bibbit x reader #sheriff brackett x reader #grima wormtongue x reader #doc cochran x reader #tommy ludlow x reader #tucker cleveland #leo nova #charles lee ray #ahh i actually had already started writing this in anticipation for my own birthday when i got the request #i never do anything for my birthday but our all of them want to treat you (sort of)#jack just wants to party #and grima is too emotionally repressed #at least billy and doc and the sheriff are pulling through for you #thank you for the request !! i love interacting with people and knowing people actually like these is very exciting #especially as the fandom is so small so im glad i can cater to you guys :)))#also i realised after writing that the request technically said s/o but i always write fem reader so i hope this is still okay ??#slashers x reader

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tedesquire · 3 years

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Hi! Could I please add another request to my list? :D it's based off a Hey Arnold episode in which Bill and the reader are on a week long school vacation and they run into each other at the beach and Bill develops a crush on a pretty girl who befriends him but the reader finds out the girl's only using Bill to win a sandcastle contest in order to be on the show Baywatch. The reader tries to tell Bill but he won't listen and he eventually overhears the girl talking with her boyfriend and tells her off only to win the contest with the reader and they confess their feelings? 💕💕

Summer Lovin’

Words: 2554

Warnings: cursing, female pronouns (but no genitalia mentioned and no skin color specified) a bit of angst (fluffy ending though)

Author’s Note: first of all, I fucking love Hey, Arnold! and definitely love Helga G. Pataki with all my heart. She’s a weirdo and I love it. I knew exactly what episode you were talking about. I can't believe you got me to write 13 pages of fanfic for such a specific and niche fandom, but hey, I don’t do this for the fame. I do this for the little bit of serotonin my brain gets when I imagine myself in scenarios with fictional characters because real men are disappointing. (Mod Olivia)

You hated Bill. You hated the stupid way his stupid blonde ringlets caught the California sun, the stupid vacant look in his stupid sapphire eyes at almost all times, the stupid fucking sliver of tan skin he exposed with his crop tops that he somehow got away with at school. Not to mention you loathed the stupid fucking grin that he gave to his best friend Ted, the one that proceeded the ridiculous laugh the stupid boy had.

All these things you despised, detested, and loathed with every fiber of your being. Simple annoyances beginning since kindergarten snowballed into a big, white burning ball of hatred for the boy. Hatred that made your cheeks heat up and stomach churn, just as it was doing now.

You had been so excited for Spring Break, your family deciding to travel 5 and a half hours to a beach house in Half Moon Bay. A week of the sun, sea, shopping, seashells, boardwalks, and salt-water taffy, with no Bill to bother you.

So, naturally, when you had reached the beach after a long day of travel, the sight of Bill sitting on the sand in nothing but a swimsuit, skin glowing with tanning oil, made your heart stutter. Okay, perhaps you didn’t hate him… despise him, detest him, or loathe him entirely. From an outside perspective… some might even say that you were… in love with him.

Oh God, it was true. You couldn't stop thinking about Bill. He looked like he was sculpted after an angel. A prince charming on a white horse. And what he lacked in academic intelligence he more than made up for with kindness. He always treated you with the utmost respect, while you paid him back in nothing but sarcasm and insults.

You didn’t know exactly why you were so mean to him. Perhaps it was your nerves trying to stop you from getting overeager and admitting your crush. One day you were going to have to either man up and confess your feelings or get over him but that day didn’t seem to be approaching anytime soon.

You were intent on pretending he wasn’t here, setting up your own place to sunbathe until you heard your name fall from his lips.

“Y/n!?” Bill walked up behind you, prompting you to turn around to face him. “What are you doing here?”

“Bill.” You stated dryly, “My family and I are staying nearby.”

“No way! My family’s right over there!” He pointed at a nearby beach house, a young woman who you recognized as recently-graduated and newfound wife, Missy Preston making out with Bill’s father on the porch. Ugh.

“Yes way.” You responded dryly. “We’re over there.” You pointed over your shoulder. “Isn’t this a coincidence, my ideal vacation ruined by the one person I didn’t want to see.” You noticed a flicker of disappointment flash in his eyes, but you couldn't stop yourself even if you tried. “Don’t get any weird ideas about getting all chummy with me, trying to hang out or anything. Just because we’re staying at the same beach and all.” You scoffed, causing him to flinch.

“Uh, yeah. Fine with me, y/n.” He rubbed the back of his head sheepishly before walking off. You eyed him, sighing softly.

“What is the matter with me?” You mumble, setting yourself down on the sand. This would have been the perfect moment to get closer to him if only you didn’t have to open your stupid mouth.

[Bill’s POV]

As Bill walked off, he felt most confused. He could never remember what he did to make you dislike him so much, but tried to get back on your good side. Thankfully, with the sun, sand, and waves surrounding him, Bill couldn’t stay too upset for too long.

He had decided to finally get in the water, heading towards the crashing shore when he had stepped on something.

Huh. Bill was met with the sight of a brightly colored bucket and shovel. Excellent! There was nothing more resplendent than a nice sand castle. Ted was going to be so jealous when he heard. All he was doing for the week was staying at home watching Deacon.

Too caught up in his new activity, Bill barely noticed someone approaching him.

“That’s a stellar sandcastle you have there.” Bill’s eyes practically bugged out of his head. Growing up in California he had seen his fair share of tan beach babes, but this one took the cake. A total babe. Talking to me.... Say something, dude!

“Thanks.” Bogus. Thank God Ted wasn’t here to see him blow his shot so odiously.

She pushed her sunglasses down her nose to look over the lenses, her bright eyes meeting his. “My name’s Summer.”

“Bill S. Preston, Esquire.” He puffed up his chest, raking a hand through his hair.

“Well, Bill S. Preston, Esquire, you seem to be a pretty great artist. That’s the best sandcastle I’ve ever seen.” His dark brows knitted in confusion, looking over her to see if she was teasing him. “I bet you’ll walk away with first prize from the sandcastle competition at the festival thing later this week.”

“Sandcastle competition?”

“Yeah! Whoever wins first place will get a guest appearance on Baywatch! But that’s not until the end of the week. How about, in the meantime, you can show me around the beach? It’s my first time visiting the bay.” Baywatch? That’s only the most triumphant show on television! Ted was going to be so jealous.

“Sounds most excellent! However, It is also my first time visiting the bay. Perhaps… we could explore the area together?”

“I like the way you think, Bill.” She winked, sitting on the sand next to him, the pair getting comfortable.

“What the hell?” You mumbled, looking over your book to watch Bill cozying up with a stranger. Your heart twisted painfully, swallowing thickly, You had no right to be jealous, he wasn’t your boyfriend, not to mention you were cruel to him in every interaction, but that didn’t stop a bitter taste from forming on your tongue.

You stood, collecting your things and trekking back to your beach house, the beach having lost its luster.

You were so over this vacation. You would have given anything to stay at home. It seemed everywhere you went, Bill and that girl seemed to be infecting the air with their infatuation.

For the past two days you’ve had to suffer watching the pair on the beach splash each other with sea water, build sand castles, and sunbathe with each other; However, that was nothing compared to today.

You and your family had decided to spend the afternoon on the boardwalk. There you had to endure the couple on the carousel holding hands, feeding each other saltwater taffy, and watching the sunset by the wharf. Most fucking heinous.

It was early evening, and thankfully, Bill and whatever her name was were nowhere to be seen. You didn’t know if you would vomit or cry every time Bill had given her that award-winning smile, the one you so badly wanted to be the recipient of.

You didn’t think it could get any worse, until you had leaned against the pier, ears picking up a familiar voice, Bill’s. Your heart fluttered, only to sink back down when you realized he was still with her under the boardwalk, back on the beach.

“Isn’t this amazing?”

“You are.” You scoffed at Bill’s attempt at flirting, ignoring the tightening of your throat.

“I’m so glad I met you.” She giggled. “I’ve never felt so comfortable with anyone.”

If it had been any other couple, you might have enjoyed such a romantic conversation. This was all your fault, if you hadn’t been such a bitch to Bill on the first day, perhaps it would have been you and him hanging out at the boardwalk.

“Can I see you tomorrow?”

“I’ll be here!”

“Excellent!” You heard him scat in that ridiculous, high-pitched way he did with Ted when they mimicked a guitar. As he walked off, you smiled, not noticing you were crying until a tear slid down your cheek.

You were such an idiot. If only you were able to act normal for a fucking minute and effectively communicate with Bill about your feelings. You had fucked up, it was too late.

“Hey!” You had heard her speak again, wondering if Bill had returned.

“Hey, babe.” That was definitely not Bill.

“It’s all going according to plan. I do believe Bill is falling head over heels for me.”

“Well who wouldn’t?” You rolled your eyes, angrily wiping the tears off your cheeks.

“He thinks I really like him. What a moron.” Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What the hell was she talking about?

“If he’s as good as you think he is, we’ll for sure win the contest and end up on Baywatch.” It only took you a second to connect all the dots. This jabroni was clearly her boyfriend, and she was only flirting with Bill to win the stupid castle contest.

You had heard enough, running back to the beach in hopes of finding Bill.

Fuck, all these beach houses looked the same. If Bill hadn’t pointed out which house he was staying at you would have no idea how you would find him.

You knocked on the door, praying you remembered the right house, and that Bill would answer instead of his hormonal parents.

“Y/n?” Thankfully Bill did answer the door, hair wet from what you assumed to be a recent shower. “How’s it...hanging?” He stepped out onto the porch, shutting the door behind him.

“Hey. I’m sorry about being a dickweed earlier.” He seemed as equally surprised as you were by your apology. “Um, I guess I was just thrown off at your presence… that’s not really an excuse… anyways, the whole reason I’m here is about that girl you were with earlier.”

“Summer? What about her, dude?” Oh my gosh, of course her name was something as pretentious as Summer.

“Well, I’m not exactly sure how to tell you this, but… She’s using you. I was on the boardwalk, and I had overheard you leaving, and I guess her boyfriend came up to her.. Long story short, she’s going to try and get you to build her a sandcastle to win that festival thing at the end of the week and take the credit so they can win the roles on Baywatch.” You met his eyes, swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry.”

He stayed quiet, your eyebrows furrowing.

“That’s heavy. I mean, I’m not stupid. You’re usually most cruel around me, and now you’re acting all...nice? I do not think I’m falling for this one.”

“You don’t believe me?” You couldn’t believe it. “I know I could be less of a bitch to you, but I’ve never lied to you in all the years I’ve known you. You just met her three days ago!”

“Y/n…” He spoke carefully. “I think you were correct when you said we shouldn’t try to hang out just because we’re staying at the same beach.” Your throat tightened, that sour taste returning to your tongue.

“Fine!” You hissed. “I don’t even know why I wasted my breath and time trying to warn you. God, I wish we had never come to this stupid fucking beach!” You ran off his porch into the sand, face burning with shame.

Bill couldn’t stop thinking about your interaction yesterday. He was barely paying attention to anything Summer was saying to him. He wished Ted was here. He always knew what to say.

He walked beside her on the boardwalk, eyes glued to the crashing waves, mind replaying the scene over and over again.

“Bill, are you listening?” Bill blinked, turning to face her, cheeks flushing.

“Sorry.”

“I said I’m going to get more sunblock, you’re looking a little pink.”

“Oh, thanks, babe.” He heard her walk off, zoning out again. You had looked so betrayed when he didn’t believe you, but, it couldn't be you were telling the truth. Why would you do something like that? All you seemed to do was glare at him, brush him off, and scoff at his jokes. It was clear he wasn’t your favorite person.

He snapped himself out of his thoughts once more, looking around to see if Summer had come back yet. His eyes caught her figure walking up the beach and he raised his hand to wave, stopping when he saw her wrap her arms around some unknown guy. He was too far away to hear what they were saying but knew what it meant when she had kissed him. Y/n was right. And I was so non-non-non excellent to her.

Sweat was dripping from Bill’s brow, his chest heaving as he panted. He could not remember where your house was, even if it was supposedly close to his own. It was the third time he had run up and down the coastline, trying to remember where you had pointed four days ago.

This was ridiculous, he was never going to find you… until Monday, when you both would be at school. But that was days from now!

“Y/n!” He fell to his knees in the sand, trying to catch his breath.

“Bill?”

“Y/n!” It was a miracle. He noticed the basket in your hands, having collected odd rocks, seashells and glass while walking along the shore. You had been trying to explore away from your house, hoping not to run into the very man who was looking for you.

“How’s it… hanging?” You asked awkwardly, scanning the area for the female that was usually seen by his side. “Where’s Summer?” He scrambled to stand in front of you.

“Y/n, you were most veracious last evening. Summer had been pursuing me with malicious intent. I caught sight of her embracing her boyfriend and I knew you were speaking the truth. I regret the way I treated you. I should have trusted you.”

“I mean… You had reason to doubt me. It’s not all your fault. Besides, it seemed as if she really liked you. I probably wouldn’t have believed me either.” You coughed awkwardly, rubbing the back of your head sheepishly. “Um, to be honest, I really only acted so bogus because I… like you.”

“No way…” He breathed, trying to recall any instance where it seemed you had a crush on him.

“Uh.. yeah. Yes way.” Your cheeks pinked. “But I obviously don’t expect you to return the feeling. I just get really nervous around you so I guess I figured I should treat you like dirt instead of trying to talk to you like a normal person. But I was worried you would think I was too weird, or that I talk too much, or-” You were cut off by a pair of lips. It was so foolish… and so Bill.

“What about Summer?” You asked once he had pulled away.

“What about her?” It was just like Bill to not stay too upset for too long.

His gaze was burning, his lips curling into that perfect, knee-melting, pearly smile. That smile you couldn’t stand. That smile that you couldn’t believe was finally directed at you.

#bill s preston esquire #bill/reader #bill x reader #bill s preston/reader #bill s preston x reader #Bill and Ted #reader insert #Bill and Ted/Reader #Bill and Ted x reader #Bill and Ted imagine #Bill and Ted Imagines #Bill imagine #Bill S Preston imagine #bill and ted's excellent adventure #bill and ted's bogus journey #bill and ted fanfic #bill and ted face the music

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tickle-bugs · 3 years

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I had two people ask for some advice on starting up/running a blog, so I thought I’d make a little post for anyone else looking for advice! There’s no one right way to run a blog and I am by no means an expert. This is just a compilation of some of the things I’ve learned :)

Feel free to add advice to this!

- The first thing is something I cannot stress enough. Write for yourself first. You will be absolutely miserable if you’re only writing for attention. I’m not saying it’s easy, but it’s so incredibly important. If you don’t like a prompt, fandom, or scenario? You don’t have to write for it! A personal example: I’m a theatre kid and total musical nerd. I could probably write some compelling Dear Evan Hansen or Hamilton headcanons if I wanted to, but I don’t. That’s fine! I’m allowed to say I won’t write for it and deny prompts/requests for those fandoms.

- Set boundaries. This is a very mixed community with all sorts of creators and participants with hands in different baskets. Don’t want minors to interact? Put minors DNI in your bio. SFW only? Put it in the bio. No RP? Bio. This goes for private conversations/askbox/other interactions as well. If someone comes into your askbox/dms and says something that makes you uncomfy, shut it down.

- My advice is more geared towards writing than art or video, but I suppose you could apply this advice as well. Make what makes you happy! If you’re only in one fandom, feel free to stay there and make content for it. Multi-fandom? Excellent! Completely non-fandom? Epic! Make the content that you want to see and the content that makes you happy to create, especially if you’re in a more niche fandom/area.

- Organization. ...I’ll admit this one is more of a personal pet peeve than something urgent, but it is something that people positively respond to. If you have some sort of consistency/organization to your blog, it’ll make it easier and more enjoyable for people to navigate. Make a fandom list/indicate your fandoms somehow (mostly for prompt purposes. people can’t read your mind, so it’s important to tell them what you will write for and what you won’t, however you want to do that)!

Make a masterpost/link your fic tag! Use a fic tag of some kind. Give your fics summaries and leave a little bit of the fic above the ‘read more’ to intrigue folks (look at #my fics and my masterpost for basic examples of how I do this, if you need!). Use read mores. Please use read mores (if you can, idk if they’re on mobile. regardless no one wants to encounter a three thousand word block of text on their dash). (No seriously though, organize your blog, even if it’s super simple. literally just a ‘mine’ or ‘my fics’ or ‘[pseud] writes’ and a fandom tag. It’ll make it easier for people to find your stuff and support you)

- Practice general internetiquette. Please remember that the people in this community are real people with feelings, boundaries, and lives outside of the blog that they run. Be genuine and people will respond to you! Don’t manipulate people into likes/reblogs/attention. No one wants to be on the other end of that. Being in this community isn’t a transaction or a mosh pit, it’s an experience.

- Be ever-so-liberal with the block button. Someone’s user makes you uncomfortable? They give you bad vibes? They’re a minor/older than you and you don’t want them interacting with your content? You don’t wanna see their blog for some reason? Block em. This goes for anons too. That’s what the button is for. Don’t feel guilty for using it. Use it.

- How you write is 100% a personal choice and not really something that I can give advice on, but embrace your style! take prompts if you want, or don’t. Write oneshots, series, drabbles, or novels. Write romantic, or don’t. Etc. Change things up if you feel like it. Do what you want. Your blog, your style, your rules.

- Numbers matter. Don’t let them define you. This is a bit of a harder one to explain, but I will try. I often say that I don’t care about numbers, and I really don’t, but that’s not to say that I don’t see them and they have zero effect on me. I absolutely notice and am bummed if a fic doesn’t get notes, or at least the notes that I was expecting. That is entirely normal and okay to experience. What isn’t okay, though, is creating for the sake of getting notes/numbers/attention (re: write for yourself first, internetiquette). If you find yourself relying on tumblr for gratification and a reward, I implore you to take a break. I’m not your therapist or your parent, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, but when you make things only for the sake of notes, people notice. Celebrate your milestones. Know that it’s okay to be bummed about low notes/celebrate getting plenty. Just make sure that you don’t depend on the numbers for your happiness, or you will be miserable.

- You’re (probably) doing this for free. You are providing people content: a service. Produce as much or as little as you’re comfy with, but always remember that. No one is entitled to what you make. If someone asks you for headcanons, sends a prompt when prompts are closed, etc, and you don’t feel like fulfilling it? You have no obligation to do that. Getting commissioned is another story entirely, but as long as you’re making free content, you have zero obligation to do anything for anyone and certainly no time constraints. It can take me months to finish prompts, and that’s okay. I do them when I do them and I fill them how I want to. If my prompts are closed, I deny new ones until I’m ready to accept them. Make yourself happy first.

- How you interact with others is up to you! It’s generally considered good practice to like/reblog your mutuals fics/art, but this is not necessarily a hard and fast rule. I veeeeeery rarely reblog fics for fandoms that I’m not in, even from my mutuals. What you can do to show your support (and you should try and show support somehow. No one is in competition. Everyone’s in your boat, whether they have no followers or 1k) is send an ask/reply to the post/leave tags to let the author know you liked it. Like the fic and don’t reblog it, if you don’t want to. Just make sure you show your mutuals (and others in general!) roughly the same support they show you, however you decide to do that. Treat others how you want to be treated, as cheesy as it sounds :)

- Don’t repost content that isn’t yours without express permission from the original creator, and credit them appropriately. If you see a cute piece of tickle art and the artist doesn’t want it reposted? Don’t repost it. Don’t post fics/videos/gifs that aren’t yours (obviously if it’s like a scene from a movie/a clip on youtube that’s different, but don’t take credit for things you didn’t make, including ideas). Can’t tell you how frustrating it is to have work stolen from you. Don’t be that person. ‘Credit to original artist’ and ‘credit unknown’ is total bullshit btw. Link/tag the creator in the original post and make it clear you don’t own the content. Best practice is to ask the original creator if they’re okay with reposting, work inspired by or connected to theirs, etc. This goes doubly for saving/downloading someone’s fics.

- It is not illegal for a minor to have normal, nonsexual, healthy friendships with people older than them. There’s a weird attitude that minors have nothing of value to offer adults besides a relationship/sex, which is...not true? Minors are thinking, living human beings with feelings, thoughts, and opinions. You can talk to them like normal people, because they are. Just obviously don’t talk about/introduce sex or endanger them. Minors don’t bring up sex/activities you’re underage for with an adult. IDK this isn’t a seminar just...don’t be weird. Adults can offer great life experience, support systems, and the basic joys and needs of human connection. Minors can too. Mind your business unless someone’s actually in danger. The next point is a caveat, though:

- If you’re a minor, don’t interact with NSFW blogs/blogs with ‘Minors DNI’, NSFW blogs don’t interact with minors, etc etc. Not your parent or whatever but this is pretty common sense and it’s for everyone’s safety, but especially the NSFW person. internettiquette!

- If you use your TK blog as a side blog (meaning you have another blog as your main blog, not two separate accounts) and don’t want your main exposed, that is up to you. I recommend not liking posts. Also, follow people that you trust. These actions route through your main blog and your main will show up in the notes. You can reblog from a sideblog. If you want to send an ask “as your tk blog”, send an anon and sign it somehow, like ‘hey :) // @/tickle-bugs’. It should tag you in the post so you get a notification when it’s answered!

- Find your people! As an anxious person this one has been hard for me, so I know it’s hard for a lot of people. Fandom is literally a community of shared interest. Peachy and I have an iron bond almost two years later and we met talking over shared interests. You can absolutely find your people here. If someone makes you happy, strike up a conversation! Send an ask! You never know what doors it might open or whose day you might improve :)

- If you were an anon/lurker on someone’s blog and they inspired you to write/submit/start your own, sign your messages!! the common form that I see is either an emoji or [noun/context of the ask]!anon (prodigal!anon (i miss u every day), butterfly!anon, etc.) Let us know how to find and support you!! Those messages produce good brain juice.

- The big finale: Have fun. If you’re not having fun here, maybe you could tweak something to make things enjoyable. Running a blog is like driving a car. Keep your hands on the wheel, respectfully indicate your intentions (flashing lights optional), and be safe. Poebody’s nerfect, y’know. If you make a mistake, course correct. I’m by no means perfect. Your favs aren’t either. Just do your best and have a good time :)

@rosytickles and the anon in my inbox, I hope this helps! Thank you for asking me, I’m very honored that you value my opinon/experience/advice. I apologize if I come off as preachy or aggressive, I envisioned grabbing my younger self by the lapels and shaking me vigorously while I wrote this. Probably a bad idea.

Anywho, hope it helps. Anyone with questions, additions, or comments, my askbox is open! Just be constructive, is all I ask.

#bug speaks #advice tag #sorry again if this sounds preachy or aggressive at any point i literally wrote it like i was grabbing younger me by the lapels #these are all things i learned through experience/observation i promise im not talking out of my ass here #the largest obstacle to maintaining a blog is how you view your happiness in relation to it. talked about it above but yeah.#also like i said: not a professional and not your parent. just giving friendly advice sine i was directly asked for it.#might add more to this if I think of more #my askbox and dms are open for questions/comments/additions just pls be respectful and constructive #other tfb community members feel free to add to this!

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fairestcat · 5 years

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We Did The Thing: Musings On the AO3, Wiscon, and Winning the Fandom Culture Wars

HOLY SHIT WE WON A MOTHERFUCKING HUGO.

Ahem.

More seriously - or at least more verbosely - I think we won the fandom culture wars. How weird is that?

This is a sort of rambly post. It's about the OTW and the AO3, but it's also about Wiscon, because that's the community I'm in where old-school SFF fandom and transformative works fandom collide, and it's where I've watched this transformation happen over the last decade.

Back in October I made a tumblr post about the history of the OTW/AO3: On the AO3 all these years later.

That post is mostly just quotes from the comments to @astolat's original post that started the AO3: An Archive Of One's Own - and quotes from the post I made back then linking to hers: An Archive of One's Own, Or: Why Shouldn't We Ask For Everything We Want?

Those posts are from May 2007. I was on the OTW Finance Committee by that fall.

One year later, in May 2008, I went to my first Wiscon. I was on two panels: "Fanfic and Slash 201," and "Fanfic Rising: The Organization for Transformative Works."

They were back to back on Saturday night. "Fanfic and Slash 201" from 9:00 to 10:15 and the OTW panel from 10:30 to 11:45. All fanworks panels at non fanworks-specific cons were late night panels back then. Or, occasionally, on Monday morning after half the con had gone home.

I don't remember who else was on the Fanfic 201 panel, but the OTW panel was me, @oliviacirce and ellen_fremedon. The three of us had never met before that con. @oliviacirce and I had been in Chicago Friday night for a Panic! At the Disco concert and hadn't gotten back to Madison until 3am. I have no idea how we were even still coherent for a 10:30 PM panel.

None of us wrote the panel description, which reads even more impressively antagonistic in retrospect.

"The Organization for Transformative Works (OTW), led by fanfic writers, fan vidders, and fan artists (including writer Naomi Novik) seeks to establish a new regime in copyright law, in which 'all fannish works are recognized as legal and transformative and are accepted as a legitimate creative activity.' Should there be an exception for fanfic under copyright? Is OTW a good idea? (Some fans are afraid that OTW's activities will end BigMedia's tolerance for fannish creations.) What does the law say? What's the viewpoint of those who create original works -- should authors lose control of their original creations, as long as fans claim protection under a fanfic exception? And what about OTW's commitment to offer protection for RPF (Real People Fanfic)?"

At the time I would have said it was a pretty good panel, and yet we spent a distressing percentage of the panel defending the mere right of fanworks to even exist.

I went back to Wiscon in 2009, which was an...eventful year. It was the first Wiscon post-Racefail and it sparked a lot of discussion of intersecting modes of fannishness and particularly online fandom vs. offline con-based fandom, which was at the time a much bigger divide.

Wiscon 2009 was also the year @ellen_fremedon went to a panel on historical fiction, and got jumped on by Ellen Klages, who was one of that year's Guests of Honor, for the sin of mentioning fanfic in her presence.

After that Wiscon I posted Wiscon, Media Fandom and The Larger Fannish Conversation, about my experience of that divide, particularly as a transformative works fan at Wiscon.

Here's the thing: online media and fanfic fandom is a vibrant, active community within broader SF fandom. [...] And to a large extent media fandom is where the young female fans are, the women who are the future of fandom. We're there at Wiscon too; I was amazed by the number of people from LJ fandom I saw at the con this year. And yet, when it comes to having a voice in larger fandom, we're still the embarrassing cousin shuffled off into the corner (or the hotel lobby). Even at Wiscon, the feminist science fiction convention, we're mostly under the radar, carving out a tiny niche for ourselves.

Last year we had two general, broad-topic fanfic panels. This year we had a fanfic panel, a vidding panel and the media vs. book fandom panel, which was not explicitly a media fandom panel but had an audience heavily weighted towards media fandom participants. And I walked into those panels and I thought "Here! Here are my people!" But it was frustrating too. Why are we relegated to the corner, why are we willing to be relegated to the corner? The conversations we're having, the things we're doing, they don't exist in a vacuum, they're relevant to the larger fannish conversation, they're especially relevant, I think, to the conversation going on at Wiscon. And I think it's time we were a bigger, more open part of that conversation.

So, we set out to make that happen. The OTW and the AO3 were a big part of that. Everyone who was worried at the time that the OTW would bring too much attention to fandom was right to be afraid. And wrong to be afraid too. Because that attention was how everything started to change. The OTW was fandom coming out of the closet, and like any coming out it was a powerful, transformative moment for those involved.

In 2010, a group of fans held the first ever Wiscon Vid Party.

At Wiscon in 2010, we held the first ever vid party in one of these hospitality suites on the Saturday night, from 9pm to 3am. That's six hours of vid programming! It was mostly unthemed, other than "here are some amazing vids!"[...] The general vibe of the party was loud, a little bit raucous, and pretty informal. We had a mixture of sofas and armchairs, stackable seating, and standing room. People came and went at will. We put a sign on the door asking people to keep conversations to a minimum, and it worked pretty well to keep chatter down while still allowing people to relax and have a good time. It was pretty much like a really big living room.

I missed that con due to the whole move to Canada and get married thing I did, but I remember my first Vid Party in 2012, looking around the party room and having this amazing feeling of being surrounded by my people.

I loved Wiscon, but it was always a fraught experience. There was always this worry that I'd say the wrong thing in the wrong place and suddenly get that disappointed, "oh, you're one of those fans," response. The vid party was the one place at the con that you could just walk in and that worry went away.

And then there started being more of those places. We started suggesting more and more fic and vid related panels.

In 2012, @oliviacirce and I were both on two transformative works panels. "What makes a great transformative work?" and "Fans Fix SF." In a step up from previous fanworks panels at Wiscon they were both during the day. But they were also both in the smallest panel rooms at the con, and both panels fit comfortably into those rooms. Conference 5, where "Fans Fix SF" was held, is still the only room Wiscon uses for programming that's so small it isn't wired for microphones.

And then in 2013 I suggested ten panels for Wiscon and nine of them ended up on the schedule. They weren't all explicitly transformative fandom panels, but a lot of them were, and most of the panel descriptions were informed by my experience in transformative works fandom. Looking back, that was a sea-change moment, because an interesting thing happened. There mostly stopped being transformative fandom-specific panels at Wiscon, because it started being okay, even expected, that fanfic and other transformative works might come up on any panel, from the audience or the panelists.

At Wiscon 2018, I went to a panel on #OwnVoices fiction. Every panelist was a published author and/or professional editor. In the course of the panel, every panelist mentioned fanfic in general or the AO3 in specific in an explicitly complementary fashion. I nearly burst into tears in the back of the panel room.

Afterwards, I met up with @oliviacirce and ellen_fremedon to flail about it, at which point we realized that it had been ten years since that first fateful OTW panel where we all met. And that ten years both felt like so long ago, and also so recent for everything to have changed so completely.

At Wiscon 2019, the three of us were on another panel together. We called it "Fanfic: Threat or Menace - Ten Years Later," and this time I wrote the description:

Do you remember a time before the AO3? Do you remember a time when mentioning fanfic at Wiscon risked a lecture on its illegality and/or immorality? We sure do! In 2008 we met on the panel “Fanfic Rising: The Organization for Transformative Works,” & spent most of our time defending the right of fanworks to exist. In 2018 we were amazed to realize just how much had changed. Let’s talk about how the perception & reception of fanworks have changed, both in fandom at large and right here at Wiscon.

We made it onto the schedule. They once again put us in the smallest panel room. We looked around the lobby on Thursday night and said, "yeah, that ain't happening." We eventually moved to one of the largest panel rooms.

It was almost completely full.

I started the panel by reading out the original panel description from 2008. There was laughter! revolutionaryjo came up afterwards and asked to take a picture of the description on my phone. There were so many people in that room who had no idea what the Wiscon of a decade previous had been like. It was amazing.

Best Related Work? The OTW and AO3 changed the nature of the relationship between fic readers and writers and the entirety of mainstream organized SFF fandom.

The Wiscon Vid Party is still happening, and it's still a marathon of amazing vids, but it's not a really big living room anymore. The Vid Party is the Friday night feature in the biggest panel room. There are Premieres. There’s a sing-a-long. People come who have never watched a vid outside of Wiscon. People come who've never even heard of vids outside of Wiscon. The first year the Vid Party was in the big room, I walked into the room just before the show started, looked around, and realized I didn't recognize ⅔ of the people in the room. And I was so happy. Because I no longer need the Vid Party as a safe space to let down my guard, the entire con is now that place.

We did that. We made that happen.

The OTW made that happen. The AO3 made that happen. But also, a whole lot of individual fans made that happen. We stepped out of our corner, we stepped out of our closet. We demanded a seat at the table. And now we have a motherfucking HUGO AWARD, and when Naomi Novik got on stage at the Hugos and asked everyone who felt that they were part of the AO3 to stand up to be acknowledged, a notable number of this year's other Hugo nominees were among the attendees who got to their feet.

#ao3 #HUGO AWARD WINNING AO3 #we did the thing #otw #wiscon #meta

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yslkook · 3 years

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I am the person who asked about cultural appropriation and I felt so much better after seeing your post. I believe everyone is entitled to their own opinion and it shouldn’t be used to invalidate other people’s opinions. I have been a kpop fan for a long time and I remember when ddududdudu came out I was a huge blackpink fan back then and I saw the bindi and I felt kind of weird. I didn’t know how to react but I didn’t really like it. I was young and a bit naïve so I think that was my first real exposure to cultural appropriation. I didn’t really acknowledge it before because it wasn’t people I look up to doing it. And I had my reasons for being offended. 1.) I have experienced a lot of racism as an Indian living abroad and have been called all sorts of slurs for being too Indian so I don’t feel comfortable wearing a bindi but others could and when I went online they were praised for their amazing outfits and looks 2.) I had never seen blackpink address their Indian fans or anything to do with Indian culture. Then I went on Twitter hoping to see other people maybe speak up about it but oh my god it was a messsss. People were losing their shit over how it wasn’t even Indian culture cuz it was just a gem and then also that it doesn’t matter cuz Indians don’t even mind if others wear bindis. And there were non-Indian people defending their faves so fiercely to the point they started insulting Indian culture and i was so scared. I was in a kpop group chat back then and I mentioned there that I didn’t like it and they were okay with that. But after seeing what happened on Twitter, I felt a bit scared that people might think I overreacted so I literally told them that ‘I was feeling bitchy’ and ‘forget what I said’. I really invalidated myself and my opinions even though I personally felt offended. Over the years I have realised how big of a problem this is, not just in kpop, but in the media we’re exposed to in general. But it’s more frustrating to see the idols that tell me they love their fans equally and love everyone also take freely from my culture and not give back. I’m at the point where I don’t feel like a fan because kpop is not catered towards someone like me. And whenever I have tried to educate others, people take it upon themselves to shut me out. Like I’m not even trying to cancel your faves, just educate them but for some reason as soon as certain fans hear cultural appropriation they go into full attack mode thinking that their faves are being cancelled. And this made me realise that there is so much hypocrisy and internalised racism present to this day, not just against Indians but so many other minorities. A lot of kpop fans also have double standards when it comes to racism. Even if they support artists of colour, they can still be racist. It’s sad because kpop has grown so much and have a large audience of young people who look up to them. And when these idols get away with feigning ignorance, their fans think that’s it’s okay to do the same too. It’s a dangerous concept for a generation that should be advancing with their thinking, not going back in time. Also I’m really sorry the ask became so long. I might as well have submitted an essay. I had to talk to someone about this after I saw someone tell me that I should be happy that kpop idols wear bindis because they look good in it....meanwhile if I wear it, I get called things I can’t even say on here. Some people just don’t seem to understand that. Also, I know that I mentioned blackpink a lot here but that’s because I used to be a blink so that was my personal experience with them. I know there are groups out there who have done worse and it just makes me sadder. I am put off of kpop but I really do enjoy the music and the whole fun of being a kpop fan. But the ignorance that runs through the kpop industry and some of the fans too really can’t be ignored.

yeah its definitely jarring for elements of your culture to be thrown in your face while people outside of your culture are praised for taking the same things that others would bully you for. a lot of fans seem to be quick to call out racism and xenophobia against kpop idols (which is a very real thing obviously) but turn a blind eye when there are clear instances of 1. fandom racism 2. cultural appropriation and racism being perpetuated by idols/companies

the original intent of cancel culture makes sense, but i feel like now the conversation stems around the fear of being cancelled rather than accepting accountability and doing better moving forward. people are allowed to grow and change...but dismissing that the wrongdoing even happened is not the way. ive mainly heard about this kind of devotion/behavior on twitter though (no wonder kpop stans have a bad name when the first thing that comes to mind is kpop twitter). i feel like people on here are pretty good about not brushing this to the side

you definitely didnt overreact by just calling out that it wasnt okay and it was also wrong for people to say it was just a "gem" lmaoooo wtf. and you obviously cant just make a generalized statement to say that indians dont mind...who is anyone to say that. even a south asian who doesnt mind that much doesnt have the right to say that all indians dont mind if others wear the bindi...because people can have differing opinions (in my opinion). but its pretty obvious when things do and dont belong

you probably didnt send me an ask for unsolicited advice but ill give it to you anyway- anyone (in real life or on the internet) who makes you feel like your lived experiences dont matter are not worth your time. you know your intentions are good by calling bad things out when you see it. if paying attention to kpop on twitter is affecting you that badly, then maybe take a step back and see how you feel. anything that is affecting your internal peace should be re-assessed, protect your peace!! i agree with you, the ignorance cant and shouldnt be ignored by idols/companies and fans!

as far as engaging with kpop despite all of this...it's up to you to determine what level of engagement you want to have. it's definitely very off putting but these days, is no ethical consumption i feel lmao. maybe it would help if you found a niche of fandom that you're comfortable with engaging in. i feel like people on here are very cool and not quick to dismiss things

and no worries about writing a long ask LMAO bc i wrote one right back and had to include a read more...

#asks

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dfangurlinme · 4 years

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MAMAMOO THOUGHTS: Dark Side of the Moon

I remember liking fifth harmony and started getting into the loop of things back then. It was my first time liking something that was in a group format. I remember struggling with t he thought of how would I like every member of the group when Lauren was my personal preference. I always feel that whenever I give Lauren more attention than the others I feel like I’m betraying the other member and the group. In that moment I realize the complexity of liking a group.

How would you strike the balance of liking each and every member and how you’ll provide your attention to each of them equally, hence when the group broke up I had that feeling that because of having preference in a group is what cause the imbalance and tension on the group image. My preference gave me the opportunity to actually focus on one member and gave my attention to them far more than the other. Yes I liked one member over the other but I try to ensure to support the other activity and take away the lingering feeling of envy over the other members.

When I finally realize that fifth harmony’s longevity is in the hands of the OT5 it was already too late. Solo stan was everywhere and the music industry is still a business and saw that Camila Cabello is their road to a much bigger revenue; ripping apart the OT5 I loved the most. After Camila left I distance myself to 5H and vowed to never follow any group ever again as it is problematic.

Then I was introduced to MAMAMOO, I enjoyed their song then I tried to stop myself on liking them because the thought of following a group who might break up again because of personal preference of other people and not being able to support the balance that’s hard to achieve was already over bearing yet MAMAMOO charmed me. I found myself being shell shocked because of how powerful Hwasa is, how captivating Solar is, how tender Wheein, and how amazing Moonbyul is.

I may have started following MAMAMOO because of their skills but they make you fall in love with them because of their personality. As I learn I started finding a connection to Moonbyul, she was the person I wish I could be. It started because of superficial reason such as her fashion and mannerism but Moonbyul strive for balance the same way I hoped for equality. Yes, I am part of the LGBTQAI+ community yet beyond it I always wanted to be sure of who I am without questioning how others see me. Moonbyul knows who she is and she is able to accept herself and is able to look and see a bright future ahead of her. MAMAMOO is a confident group, no doubt about it, but for me I hope to be proud of myself the same way Moonbyul express herself. I want to walk outside with my suit and tie someday and feel that I really am the person wearing it and hoping that person is finally walking to something worth doing.

When I learned that RBW already place the plan of making each member a soloist I knew from that moment that Moonbyul will have the hardest journey to take. Moonbyul strives for equality her battle is about acceptance of an idea. One thing is battling a superficial aspect of the culture but battling a standard which is questioned around the world is already a much bigger battle on its own.

When I was specifically learning about the group I started learning first about Hwasa because when I saw their Good Luck performance I immediately associated her to be the Beyonce of the Destiny’s Child or the Jerry of Spice Girls. Then I got to know Solar and Wheein who I immediately tagged as triple threat of the group. I refrain from learning about Moonbyul because I knew from that style of her that she’ll be my favorite and I’ll start to feel sorry for her because she will take the hardest route among all of them.

I maybe feeling this way because is some ways I knew how it feels to hope that the people around me would see me rather than my preference. I want the world to see Moonbyul beyond her style and mannerism. The thing is, women are firstly judged by their superficial characteristic such as looks and fashion.

Moonbyul currently has a niche market; outside the fandom, her image is something that questions the already existing norm of gender. Gender is something that is highly debatable in the world; hence a woman who is deemed lesser by men due to societal belief; then inject that woman who see herself outside the realm of the usual femininity. Moonbyul is MAMAMOO’s real anomaly. She stands out and whatever she does she will standout.

Moonbyul’s career has a long way to go and RBW seems to having trouble about it as well. Moonbyul is not the easiest to be marketed. How can you market a woman who’s charisma attracts women that would not hurt men’s ego learning that if she wants too she can actually make other women looks her way. How can you market a woman who seems to be more visually compatible with other women? How can you market a woman who specializes in taking other women without pissing other men?

Ellen DeGeneres became the icon that she is today because she believed that being herself will lead her to her success. She made it on top because she was just herself and when the world realizes that she is more than her preference then the world see beyond it.

Selfish and In my room are experiments to see how Moonbyul can be launch in the general public where she would not be covered by her members. The real beginning of Moonbyul’s battle as an artist and as a soloist is when they allowed her to release Dark Side of the Moon. The album is what Moonbyul is. She showed that she has so much more in her.

When I watched the teasers as it comes out, I already predicted its mediocre performance compared to her other member’s release. Moonbyul whole heartedly showed who she is and that was what Dark Side of the Moon’s purpose is in my opinion. It’s not to win music show, break records or sales. Dark Side of the Moon is the actual start of Moonbyul’s road of carving her stamp as one of the faces of androgyny for KPOP idols. If she really do believe that there should be more awareness of the fact that there are still more expression such as hers that needs to be put forth then she will continue to the journey of what Dark Side of the Moon started.

There are many idols who have done androgynous style for sure but I think it still needs to be explored more given that androgyny by itself is a hard expression to present. Nothing can ever present this self view easier than a person who sees herself as someone in that realm. A lot more work is to be done but I hope Moonbyul would not stop until her vision becomes reality.

Androgyny is a niche market hence if Moonbyul will continue this route then I have to prepare myself for a journey of pain and disappointment because the world may be getting better at accepting the idea but its progress is still at its infancy hence I would expect Moonbyul to experience more hurdles before achieving this vision of hers but if her vision comes true then a legacy is waiting for her at the finish line.

Other may say that she’s the weakest member of MAMAMOO or she’s the least successful from them but Moonbyul has her own battle to win beyond MAMAMOO. Sometimes her battle may be overlooked but as long as Moonbyul is Moonbyul her battle goes on. I hope that RBW would finally be able to find the balance that they are looking for, for Moonbyul because their support is much needed.

I know that solo stans number in MAMAMOO fandom will continue to increase as they continue to showcase them as soloist and the competition among the members will continue to be more visible as they grew but I hope the members will continue this journey for themselves and each other. Fans may be the reason for an artist success but they are their own human and I don’t own them by any means. I am at the point once again where the fear of solo success might destroy the balance of their group.

The more I get to know them, the more I get invested in them hence seeing fans point blame for what they deemed to be a failure saddens me as I remember that 5H’s story ended because of envy. The envy that cause disruption and divided the fandom that later on lead to the inevitable business move of disbandment. MAMAMOO and 5H is 2 separate story but they are in the world where anyone can be greedy and anyone can destroy that beautiful picture on the frame.

MAMAMOO along with Moonbyul have so much more to do in an industry that tries to defined them I hope that I will still continue to see these 4 women go up against the prejudice of culture together, creating music that will unite everyone.

#mamamoo #kimyongsun #moonbyul #wheein #ahnhyejin #hwasa

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bluedaviau · 4 years

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「 cherry. rachel hilson. cis female. she/her. 」 are you ready for the time of your life, BLUE DAVIAU? the TWENTY ONE year old FINE ART graduate from tulane is ready to HOT AIR BALLOON in DUBAI this semester. close friends would describe them as IDEALISTIC and CREATIVE, but there’s really only one way to find out. get ready for what august has in store for you, BLUE ! 「 pepper. twenty one. est. she/her. 」

ABOUT THE MUN. the 2000 claymation film chicken run radicalized me

what up, i’m pepper, i’m twenty four, and not to flex but i’ve had writer’s block for two str8 months !! but i’m hoping to change that right here right now with one ms. blue daviau so thank you for coming on this journey with me friends it’s gonna be wild. a bit about me is i’ve gone to the mall literally every day this week and honestly, i am Exhausted from it so i apologize for the mess this intro is about to be. i’m a taurus with a libra moon and libra rising so do with that information what you will. my favourite pokemon is mewtwo. growing up i had a massive crush on danny phanton and ben 10, like i loved those lanky boys that could transform to fight crime for some reason?? i can’t tell you why. also when i was a child i thought god looked like king triton from the little mermaid. alright that is enough about me, moving on to blue.

BIO. if you use my coloured pencils you better put them back in rainbow order

this is going to be the short version of her bio but if you want to see the long rambly messy version you can find my google doc/app here ! which i recommend you looking at for no other reason than to see how cute the little cherry doodle i inserted in there is. it took me so long to get that in there and looking cute. it’s baby’s first fancy google doc 😌 anyways sdjhdsjh

blue was born and raised in hawaii! her mother, stormi, was miss hawaii state at one point and her father, reggie, was a pro surfer! however before blue was born her father had a surfing accident that left him in a wheelchair. he turned to art to try to cope with the trauma of this accident and the reality of never being able to surf again, and he even opened up his own gallery! his gallery became a tourist attraction in hawaii and pretty well known in the art community and after passing down her crown blue’s mother became a news anchor. so the fact was blue was the daughter of two local legends in hawaii and the expectations were high!

not to mention the fact that all of blue’s elder siblings were amazing too. blue has five older siblings and all of them are successful in their own right and in their own niche. they’re also all named after colours funnily enough. the daviau parents had big hippy energy in case you were wondering.

so growing up blue was always just kind of the ‘other’ sibling. all her older siblings had showed their talents at a young age and grew into them pretty quickly, while blue was just kind of... there. she was an artist, but she wasn’t a groundbreaking artist. she could sing, but her voice was simply pretty, not lifechanging. she could surf, but she was average at best. to put it simply, blue was the daviau sibling who wasn’t at all special. which ironically, made her stand out like a sore thumb.

blue didn’t mind too much though, at least not when she was younger. she kept to herself anyways. all blue wanted do when she was younger was read, draw, and explore hawaii’s wild life, so she had everything she could possibly need to be happy right at her fingertips. life was good for her despite her inadequacy, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t aware of it (and wouldn’t develop a complex about it later).

when blue was six though her parents decided that they needed to have sweet, sweet, baby number seven to save their marriage. they named that sweet boy gray. he did not save a damn thing, but he sure was cute. blue was eleven when her parents finally divorced and that pretty much marked the end of blue having any kind of parental guidance.

long story short, both of blue’s parents went kinda buckwild the moment they were single and most of the responsibility to take care of five year old gray fell on blue. blue was the one to make gray’s meals. blue was the one to give gray a bath. blue was the one to tuck gray in at night and get him into his school clothes in the morning. blue was the one to help him with his homework and hold his hand as he crossed the street and honestly pretty much do everything for him until she was about seventeen. both her parents simply checked out on that front, and it the end blue was more of a mother to gray than either of their parents were.

the pressure of having to not only take care of herself but also gray when she wasn’t even legally an adult yet, was honestly way too much for blue. her anxiety skyrocketed, and the pressure she put on herself only grew. the only way blue could really cope with it and calm herself down was by 1. losing herself in nature, 2. drawing, or 3. reading, or rather most likely, doing all of the above at once. using art of an escape pretty much guaranteed that blue’s love and passion for it grew, and with that her talent for it. by that time blue was seventeen she had a full portfolio ready to send off to any university outside of hawaii that would take her. because you bet your bottom dollar your girl was getting the hell outta there!

as we all know blue got accepted to tulane. it was hard to leave gray and her family behind, but blue set her mother and father straight before she left, ensuring that gray would be well taken care of in her stead and hoping that some distance between herself and her family that was so dependent on her (her mother never new how to cook so blue made all the meals, her father never knew how to handle gray so he was always coming to blue to advice, gray was absolutely lost without her, etc) would lift that pressure off her shoulders.

it didn’t at first. the first few months were tough with all the calls blue got from home. that plus the schoolwork she had on her plate almost left her more stressed than before. however, slowly the calls began to fade and slowly blue was able to put her full focus in her art program, and later, her animation programs.

sorry folks my brain is fried, we’re gonna stop here!

HEADCANNONS. on all levels except physical i am sitting on top of the moon with my legs swinging back and forth

Blue’s father is in a wheelchair from the surfing accident that made him take up art. His past as a professional surfer is actually part of the reason why his gallery is so popular though honestly, because the accident was televised and after that tragedy many of his fans and the public wanted to support him. He just also so happened to be really talented. But yeah, Blue’s father was really talented at surfing, he was even invited to the summer olympics in the nineties! But he was also the type to refuse to go because ‘surfing should be freeing, the olympics have so many restrictions, it takes away from what surfing is!!’ dkjsd he was that type yk? I also imagine Blue’s parents were the type to be on the front lines at protests. As it is, Blue is the same, very passionate, definitely has made some bomb ass posters and t-shirts for every women's march she’s attended.

Blue can play the ukulele really well and she honestly has a really pretty singing voice. However she can’t dance even a little bit. Honestly, she could literally break a bone. Really wants to throw it back though 😔

Loves to bake and cook because they’re relaxing activities with built in rewards. Learned to bake and cook because of having to take care of herself and her brother's meals when she was younger, that is if she didn’t want them both to literally get diabetes. As it is though, now that she doesn’t have to worry about her baby brother’s diet as well as her own, she will make a whole chocolate cake just cause she’s a little stressed and proceed to actually eat it. But she will share though. Catch Blue coming to your hotel room with sweets.

All of Blue’s elder siblings are adults now, but Gray is still about sixteen. They exchanged letters from Hawaii to Tulane and Blue always spends hours decorating hers and including little snacks and cute little knick knacks in them, despite the fact that Gray is now an angsty teenager and does not find these things as entertaining as he used to. Despite that, they are definitely the closest out of their siblings for the most part.

Blue’s siblings' names are Sage, Jett, Jade, Ruby, Rose and of course Gray. Jade and Jett, and Ruby and Rose are both twins.

The type to cry easily honestly. Also the type to carry other people’s problems with her. Like if you tell Blue that someone hurt your feelings last week she will remember and she will check on you the next time she sees you. Very empathetic, almost to a fault though because she’s constantly being careful of everyone else’s feelings rather than her own. The type who’s a good listener though. Also the type to give either really good advice or really odd advice.

Art still tends to be her happy place, something she got from her father. Trying to find her own place outside of her father's shadow. She wants to get into the world of animation and cartoons but the whole task is a bit daunting. Is planning to work her ass off for it though! Spends a lot of time in coffee shops storyboarding and making animations. I think she may have a contract going on with a cartoon network of some sort, like they may have picked up a show of hers? Because I imagine her putting out some of her first shorts on Youtube and that might have gotten a bit of attention and led to her getting a deal for a show, so. She’s probably working her ass off towards that, and is honestly probably 1.doubting if they really picked up her show because of her talent or her father’s name, and 2.wondering if she can really do this.

Loves water in all shapes and forms. Since she can’t go to the beach everyday, the small bath in her tiny ass apartment??? Suddenly heaven. That said, Blue is either terrified of the ocean or loves it and I can’t decide which. Standby on that.

Makes a great coffee cake. Like it’s to die for.

Is VERY passionate about the environment. Is a pescatarian. Goes to the farmers market to pick out fresh produce. Loves to hike.

Always has the urge to sketch or paint after she reads poetry or novels. Highlights her favourite bits and has the tendency to read them over when she’s sad. The parts she loves are usually the parts that leave her wanting something.

Draws when she’s sad too. Claire Saffitz energy when she’s cooking but also just through life. Very friendly, but an introvert when it comes to gathering her energy.

Lives for libraries and bookstores, and has stacks on stacks of books in her old apartment. Loves old children's books honestly, like The Secret Garden, and poetry. Like whimsical and fantastical fiction with flowery words that just brings you to another place? Blue’s freaking jam. Falls in love with someone in fiction every five days, and desperately wants to be in love in real life, hence all the tinder dates and blind dates. I don’t think Blue ever has fallen in love though, like not really.

An absolute baby when it comes to the cold. Literally there could be a slight breeze and Blue will be acting like she’s suddenly in the arctic. Any cold destinations will be greeted by a bundled up Blue’s Clues.

Made her first painting out of her own feces at six months old. Her parents proudly framed it. It’s probably still up in the attic in their Hawaii home.

Won her first art show at six but was unsure whether it was because her art really was something worth awarding or because of her father’s name. The award got her on the front page of the Honolulu Tribune but with her father proudly at her back and the title ‘Following in her father’s footsteps’ above her head. Blue just wants to find her own footing in the art world, and be her own person.

Keeps a journal and has since she was a teenager.

WANTED CONNECTIONS. i’m the friend that needs help opening water bottles.

coming to theatres near you soon!

#august.intro #i am too tired to write any more for now but tomorrow ??? it's over for you hoes

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audiohut · 4 years

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What do you think you need to produce and engineer your own music? SSL Mix Console? Teletronix LA2A? API 500 modules? The answer is none of thee above. Your skill in the craft is far more important than your equipment. While the gear you use does have an impact, if you do not know where and how these tools should be used, it will make no difference to the quality of your music nor the mix and master.

For the bedroom studio musicians, there are only a few elements you NEED to start up your learning process. With digital tools accurately replicating beautiful vintage pieces of outboard hardware you have more than what you need to get started. But the on a dime musician should start with: (And this entails all instruments digital and live)

Obviously you need a computer. Until you reach a specific point in power, most any desktop or laptop with 8GB’s of ram will suffice. You need decent processing power to stay away from latency as well as distortion and glitches within your project which will also translate to requiring latency in order to move past this until further power is required thus demanding more latency to allow your PC to process information from your wav and tools before it delivers the audio to your speakers or headphones.

An audio interface. You can find great budget friendly interfaces made by Focusrite, Berhinger, Avid and many more that offer great digital amps and a small handful of recording parameters most of which including phantom power if need be per microphone. I recommend the Focusrite 2i2 for starters who want to capture that of both XLR microphones as well as 1/4″ DI or analog signals from bass, guitars, vocals, keyboards and really anything that is mono. For stereo there is a bit of routing you need to implement via your Digital Audio Workstation which will allow multiple inputs to be recorded at once. This can come in handy for things like Drum Rooms, Vocals, Drum Overheads and again, anything you see fit for stereo recording.

This one is a good one as i know most certainly you want the best recording at the source. You can only fix so much in the mix and there is nothing that beats the genuine quality of a great recording as well as one that mails the take rather than editing to compensate. Good microphones ranging from $100-$300 includes the Shure SM58, Rode NT1A, Aston Origin and the famous AKG Pr Audio C214. All of these microphones deliver a brilliant high end as well as capture very natural elements of the performance in detail. The Shure as well as the Rode are very quiet in ways that they eliminate outside noise thanks to the full grill surrounding the unit in case of live recording with other instruments like a full band or group of vocalists in a choir.

This one is optional, but you can never go wrong. You will want a acoustic treatment shield to surround your microphone to help eliminate any reverberation that might make its way back to your microphone. I have an Auralex shield that i swear by in my studio as the whole thing i solid wood leaving lots of room for unwanted reverberation and frequency bleed which can stunt the quality of your performance. There are lots of great products that offer the same kind of shield, but i highly recommend Auralex. (Not noted but obviously you will need a microphone stand to equip your gear upon.)

This one is also quite obvious, but you will need a method of playback and monitoring. I love the process between headphones to monitors as i will detail my mix on headphones for lows and mids and focus the high end to the monitors as well as see how it all translates on a separate pair. Budget monitors are kind of tough, which i why i DO recommend headphones. Sennehsier 589SE or any Sennheiser headphone with a closed back will deliver very honest referencing, but depending on your purchase point you might end up with a pair that emphasize areas of your mix you want heard more truthfully. It is important to remember to reference your mix in your car. This is where most music is enjoyed and will provide a great ground for your further mixing or mastering decisions as subconsciously we all know what pro productions sound like in our car from years of listening. For budget monitors, i highly recommend Yamaha’s HS8’s or HS5’s. These are very transparent speakers that have adjustable parameters for your room as well as low end boosting, mid boost and high end boosting which can all be reduced to best suit your mixing and referencing needs per your room or just flat out what you are comfortable with audibly. I also recommend KRK Rokits. These speakers define your mix in a clean and precise way that is honest for the price point. Standing at around $300 for the five inch monitor set you can not beat this price. I had been referencing on a set of Fostex RM900 eight inch monitors for about a year and added the KRK set to my system and was blown away by how well the high end worked in comparison. To define it by ‘you get what you pay for’ the Fostex monitors were over one thousand dollars as the KRK’s i found used for $175 for both making a set.

Finally, you will need an audio workstation of some sort. Unless you plan on recording to tape, a DAW (Digital Audio Workstation) will inherently make your work flow more ergonomic. With the ability to punch in, edit, sample, use amp sims to develop tone and recovers mixes and so much more without tape you save yourself an enormous amount of time in these processes. Depending on your styling of music there is a DAW for you! Sadly, not all of them are on a budget… For beat producers you can grab something like FL Studios from anywhere between $100 to $1000 dollars depending on the package you would like. Ableton is a great DAW as well, but does cost you a pretty penny of i believe a fat $800 for the full version. You can get a lite version which does not include some tools here and there for $100. You can find these tools among other companies to implement in your DAW of any kind to compensate as well but in some cases, you can not replicate the original tool. What i started with was Audacity because it was totally free. As i advanced in my needs, i found that Reaper was the best deal on the market as you can trial the FULL version for as long as you would like until you choose to purchase a license AND when you do purchase, it is only sixty dollars! You can download tools from various other aforementioned DAW’s and load them into Reaper to use as if though you were in the DAW of your choice. You get community based updates every thirty days or so which all do nothing but improve the quality and work flow for the people who pay into the company. But at the end of the day, there is no RIGHT DAW. Try the free versions of each one until you find something that pleases you in any way shape or form and really dive into it. I was told to get Logic but did not like how it felt for the price i had to pay. If you can afford it, i do recommend something that is industry standard along with the previously mentioned pieces of gear, but this is about a budget and the artist that is on a dime.

Edit: DO NOT FORGET YOUR CABLES.

And with that i bid thee happy mixing and creating. This small studio setup which should obviously include your instruments of choice (not mentioned for obvious reasons) will run you anywhere between $800-$1500 depending on your products of choice as well as what kind of computer you get with what kind of power. There is nothing cheap about audio and production but this is a killer setup that i spent years on to develop the skills needed to accurately apply those Teletronix LA2A Compressors, API 550’s and various other pieces of boutique gear we all seek. Once you learn the way your tools work you can present your talents among any genre as you will know what needs attention when and where. Do NOT let people tell you genre matters. As it does help to find a niche within your passion for listening, these skills work quite universally unless it is the physical beat, lyric or performance you are delivering. For mixing and engineering yes this applies about 15% from 100%. Stay strong with your setup and remember that practice makes perfect. If you can master your digital tools then you can master your outboard ones with an extra analog touch given by the actual electronics and tubes powering them.

I hope this helps you find the motivation to start recording and engineers your own music as i know hearing this helped the spark for me. For awesome digital tools check out VST4FREE as well as the product companies Waves and Fabfilter which all produce high quality tools for you mixing and writing. If you seek more song writing information or thoughts on music production follow my space and read back on my previous posts!

-Andrew Giordanengo

-Audiohut

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dustedmagazine · 3 years

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Dust Volume 6, Number 12

The Flat Five

It’s November, and the culture is telling us to be thankful again, at least from a distance. We’re a prickly, argumentative bunch here at Dusted, but I think we can all agree on gratitude for our health, each other and the music, good and bad, that comes flooding in from all sides. So while we may not agree on whether the best genre is free jazz or acid folk or vintage punk or the most virulent form of death metal, we do concur that the world would be very dull without any of it. And thus, seasonably overstuffed, but with music, we opine on a number of the best of them once again. Contributors this time include Bill Meyer, Andrew Forell, Tim Clarke, Ray Garraty, Jennifer Kelly, Mason Jones, Patrick Masterson, Jonathan Shaw and Justin Cober-Lake. Happy thanksgiving.

Cristián Alvear / Burkhard Stangl — Pequeños Fragmentos De Una Música Discreta (Insub)

Pequeños fragmentos de una música discreta by CRISTIÁN ALVEAR & BURKHARD STANGL

The acoustic guitar creates instant common ground. Put together two people with guitars in their hands together, and they can potentially communicate without knowing a word of each other’s language. They might trade blues licks, verses of “Redemption Song,” or differently dire remembrances of “Hotel California,” but they’re bound to find some sort of common language. This album documents another chapter in the eternal search. Cristián Alvear is a Chilean classical guitarist who has found a niche interpreting modern, and often experimental repertoire. Burkhard Stangl is an Austrian who has spent time playing jazz with Franz Koglmann, covering Prince with Christoph Kurzmann and realizing compositions that use the language of free improvisation with Polwechsel. This CD collects eight “Small Fragments Of Discreet Music” which they improvised in the course of figuring out what they could play together. Given their backgrounds, dissonance is part of the shared language, but thanks to the instrumentation, nothing gets too loud. Sometimes they explore shared material, such as the gentle drizzle of harmonics on “No5.” Other times, they find productive contrasts, such as the blurry slide vs. palindromic melody on “No6.” And just once, they flip on the radio and wax melancholic while the static sputters. Sometimes small, shared moments are all you need.

Bill Meyer

Badge Époque Ensemble — Self Help (Telephone Explosion Records)

Self Help by Badge Époque Ensemble

Toronto collective Badge Époque Ensemble display the tastefully virtuosic skill of a particular strain of soul-inflected jazz-fusion that politely nudged its way into the charts during the 1970s. Led by Max Turnbull (the erstwhile Slim Twig) on Fender Rhodes, clavinet and synthesizers with members of US Girls, Andy Shauf’s live band and a roster of guest vocalists, Badge Époque Ensemble faithfully resurrect the sophisticated sounds of Blue Nun fuelled fondue parties and stoned summer afternoons by the pool. Meg Remy and Dorothea Paas share vocals on “Sing A Silent Gospel” which is garlanded with Karen Ng’s alto saxophone and an airy solo from guitarist Chris Bezant; it’s a track that threatens to take off but never quite does. The strength of James Baley’s voice lifts the light as air psych-funk of “Unity (It’s Up To You)” and Jennifer Castle does the same for “Just Space For Light” during which Alia O’Brien makes the case for jazz flute — Mann rather than Dolphy — with an impressive solo. The most interesting track here is the 11 minute “Birds Fly Through Ancient Ruins” a broodingly introspective piece which allows Bezant, Ng and bassist Giosuè Rosati to shine. Self-Help is immaculately played and has some very good moments but can’t quite get loose enough to convince.

Andrew Forell

Better Person — Something to Lose (Arbutus)

Something to Lose by Better Person

Like any musical genre, synth-pop can go desperately awry in the wrong hands. The resurgence of all things 1980s has been such a prevalent musical trend in recent years that it takes a deft touch to create something that taps into the retro vibe without coming across as smug. Under his Better Person moniker, Berlin-based Polish artist Adam Byczyowski manages to summon the melancholy vibe of 1980s classics such as “Last Christmas” by Wham!, “Take My Breath Away” by Berlin, and “Drive” by The Cars, reimagined for the 21st century and set in a run-down karaoke bar. This succinct and elegant half-hour set pivots around atmospheric instrumental “Glendale Evening” and features three Polish-language tracks — “Na Zawsze” (“Forever”), “Dotknij Mnie” (“Touch Me”), and “Ostatni Raz” (“Last Time”) — that emphasize the feel of cruising solo through another country and tuning into a unfamiliar radio station. There’s roto-toms, glassy synth tones, suitably melodramatic song titles (including “Hearts on Fire,” “True Love,” and “Bring Me To Tears”), plus Byczyowski’s disaffected croon. It all creates something unexpectedly moving.

Tim Clarke

Big Eyes Family — The Disappointed Chair (Sonido Polifonico)

The Disappointed Chair by Big Eyes Family

Sheffield’s Big Eyes Family (formerly The Big Eyes Family Players) released the rather fine Oh! on Home Assembly Music in 2016. Its eerie blend of folk and psych-pop brought to mind early Broadcast, circa Work and Non Work, before Trish Keenan and James Cargill started to explore more experimental timbres and themes of the occult. Bar perhaps the haunted music box instrumental “Witch Pricker’s Dream,” Oh!’s songs cleaved along a similar grain: minor keys, chiming arpeggiated guitar, spooky organ, in-the-pocket rhythm section, plus Heather Ditch’s vocal weaving around the music like smoke. The Disappointed Chair is much the same, enlivened with a touch more light and shade, from succinct waltz “(Sing Me Your) Saddest Song,” to the elegant Mellotron and tom-toms of “For Grace.” “From the Corner of My Eye” is stripped right back, with an especially affecting guitar line, plus Ditch’s vocals doubled, with the same words spoken and sung, like a voice of conscience nagging at the edge of the frame. It’s a strong set of songs, only let down by the boxy snare sound on “Blue Light,” and on “The Conjurer,” Ditch’s lower register isn’t nearly as strident as her upper range.

Tim Clarke

Bounaly — Music For WhatsApp 10 (Sahel Sounds)

Music from Saharan WhatsApp 10 by Bounaly

The tenth installment in Sahel Sounds’ Music For WhatsApp series introduces another name worth remembering. In case your attention hasn’t been solely faced on the ephemeral charms of contemporary Northwest African music in 2020, here’s the scoop: Each month, Sahel sounds uploads a brief recording that a musician from that corner of the world recorded on their cell phone and delivered via the titular app, which is the current mode of music transmission in that neck of the woods. At the end of the month they take it down, and that’s that. This edition was posted on November 11, so set your watch accordingly. Bounaly is originally from Niafounké, which was the home of the late, great Ali Farka Touré. Since civil war and outside intervention have rendered the city unsafe for musicians of any speed, he now works in Mali’s capital city, Bamako, but his music is rooted in the bluesy guitar style that Touré championed. Accompanied solely by a calabash player and surrounded by street sounds, Bounaly’s singing closely shadows his picking, which is expressive without resorting to the amped-up shredding of contemporary guitarists like Mdou Moctar.

Bill Meyer

Cash Click Boog — Voice of the Struggle (CMC-CMC)

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Last year, Cash Click Boog made a few very noticeable appearances on other people albums (especially on Lonnie Bands’ “Shred 1.5” and Rockin Rolla’s First Quarter) but his own Extras was a minor effort. This Californian rapper was always a dilettante at music, but that was his main appeal and ineradicable feature: you always knew that he’s always caught up in some very dark street business, and he appears in a booth once every blue moon, almost by accident. He is that sort of a player who always on the bleachers, yet when they let him on the field he always does a triple double or a hat trick (depending on a kind of sport).

Voice of the Struggle was supposed to be his big break, the album in which he would expend his gift for rapping while remaining in strictly amateurish frame. Sadly, Boog has chosen another route, namely going pop. He discards his amateur garbs almost completely and auto-tunes every track. If earlier he was too dark even by street standards, now almost all the tracks could be safely played on a radio. The first eight songs are more or less pop-ish ballads about homies in prison, tough life and the ghetto. By the time we reach the last three tracks where Boog recovers his old persona, it’s already too late. The struggle remains but the voice is gone.

Ray Garraty

The Flat Five — Another World (Pravda)

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The Flat Five musters a great deal of Chicago musical fire power. Alt.country chanteuse Kelly Hogan, Andrew Bird collaborator Nora O’Connor and Casey McDonough sing in Andrews Sisters harmonies, while NRBQ mainstay Scott Ligon minds the store and Green Mill regular Alex Hall keeps the rhythm steady. The sound is retro —1930s radio retro — but the songs, written by Ligon’s older brother Chris, upend mid-century American pieties with sharp, insurgent wit. A variety of old-time-y styles are referenced — big band jazz, country, doo wop and pre-modern pop — in clean, winking style. Countrified, “The Great State of Texas” seems, at first, to be a fairly sentimental goodbye-to-all-that song, until it ends with the revelation that the narrator is on death row. “Girl of Virginia,” unspools a series of intricate, Cole Porter-ish rhymes, while waltzing carelessly across the floor. The writing is sharp, the playing uniformly excellent and the vocals extra special, layered in buzzing harmonies and counterpoints. No matter how complicated the vocal arrangements, no one is ever flat in Flat Five.

Jennifer Kelly

Sam Gendel — DRM (Nonesuch)

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Normally, Sam Gendel plays saxophone in a classic jazz style. You might have caught him blowing dreamy, airy accompaniments on Sam Amidon’s last record, for instance, or putting his own spin on jazz standards in the solo Satin Doll. But for this album, Gendel experimented with ancient high tech — an Electro Harmonix DRM32 drum machine, some synthesizers, a 60-year-old nylon-string guitar —t o create hallucinatory fragments of beat-box-y, jazz-y sound, pitched somewhere between arty hip hop and KOMPAKT-style experimental electronics. “Dollars,” for instance, laces melancholy, Latin-flavored guitar and crooning with vintage video-game blips and bleeps, like a bossa nova heard dimly in a gaming arcade. “SOTD” dances uneasily in a syncopated way, staccato guitar runs paced by hand-claps, stuttered a-verbal mouth sounds and bright melodic bursts of synthesizer. “Times Like This” poses the difficult question of exactly what time we’re in—it has the moody smoulder of old soul, the antic ping and pop of lush early 00s electronics, the disembodied alien suavity of pitch-shifted R&B right now. The ringer in the collection is a cover of L’il Nas’ “Old Town Road,” interpreted in soft Teutonic electro tones, like Cluster at the rodeo. It’s odd and lovely and hard to get a bead on, which is pretty much the verdict for DRM as a whole.

Jennifer Kelly

Kraig Grady — Monument of Diamonds (Another Timbre)

MONUMENT OF DIAMONDS by Kraig Grady

The painting adorning the sleeve of Monument of Diamonds is entitled Doppler Effect in Blue, and rarely has the cover art’s name so accurately described the sound of the music paired with it. The album-length composition, which is scored for brass, saxophones and organs, consists almost entirely of long tones that Doppler in slow motion, with one starting up just before another peters out. The composer, Kraig Grady, is an Australian-based American who used to release albums that purported to be the folk music of a mythical land called Anaphoria. Nowadays he has no need for such subterfuge, since this lovely album holds up quite well on its own merits. Inspired by Harry Partch and non-Western classical music systems, Grady uses invented instruments and strategically selected pitch intervals to create microtonal music that sounds subtly alien, but never harsh on the ears. As the sounds glide by, they instigate a state of relaxed alertness that’ll do your blood pressure some good without exposing you to unnecessary sweetener.

Bill Meyer

MJ Guider — Sour Cherry Bell (Kranky)

Sour Cherry Bell by MJ Guider

MJ Guider’s second full length is diaphanous and monolithic, its monster beats sheathed in transparent washes of hiss and roar. “The Steelyard” shakes the floor with its pummelling industrial rhythms, yet shrouds Guider’s spoken word chants with surprising delicacy. “Body Optics” growls and simmers in woozy synth-driven discontent, while the singer lofts dreamy melodic phrases over the roar. There’s heft in the low-end of these roiling songs, in the churn of bass-like synthetics, the stomp of computer driven percussion, yet a disembodied lightness in the vocals, which float in pristine purity over the roar. Late in the disc, Guider ventures a surprisingly unconfrontational bit of dream pop in “Perfect Interference,” sounding poised and controlled and rather lovely at the center of chiming, enveloping synthetic riffs. Yet the murk and roar makes her work even more captivating, a glimpse of the spiritual in the midst of very physical wreck and tumult.

Jennifer Kelly

Hisato Higuchi — キ、Que、消えん？ - Ki, Que, Kien? (Ghost Disc)

キ、Que、消えん？ - Ki, Que, Kien? by Hisato Higuchi

Since 2003, Tokyo-based guitarist Hisato Higuchi has quietly released a series of equally-quiet albums, many on his own Ghost Disc label, which is appropriately named. Higuchi's work on this and the previous two albums of his "Disappearing Trilogy" is a sort of shimmering, melancholy guitar-and-vocal atmosphere — downer psych-folk in a drifting haze. His lyrics are more imagery than story, touching on overflowing light, winter cities, the quiet world, and the transience of memories. As the guitar floats slowly into the distance, Higuchi's voice, imbued with reverb, is calmly narcotic, like someone quietly sympathizing with a friend's troubles. These songs, while melancholy, convey a peacefulness that's a welcome counterbalance to the chaotic year in which we've been living. Like a cool wind on a warm summer evening, you can close your eyes and let Higuchi's music improve your mood.

Mason Jones

Internazionale — Wide Sea Prancer (At the Blue Parade) (Janushoved)

Wide Sea Prancer (At The Blue Parade) by Internazionale

It’s been nearly half a decade since Copenhagen’s Janushoved first appeared in these annals, and in that time, a little more information — and a lot more material — has cropped up to lend some context to the mystery. The focus, however, steadfastly remains with the music — perhaps my favorite of which among the regular projects featured is label head Mikkel Valentin’s own swirling solo synth vehicle Internazionale. In addition to a reissue of 2017’s The Pale and the Colourful (originally out on Posh Isolation), November saw the release of all-new songs with Wide Sea Prancer (At the Blue Parade), 14 tracks of gently abrasive headphone ambient that carry out this type of sound very well. Occasionally there is a piano (“Callista”) or what sounds like vocals (“El Topo”), but as it’s been from the start, this is primarily about tones and moods. Notes for the release say it’s a “continuation and completion of the narrative set by the release Sillage of the Blue Summer,” but it’s less the narrative you should be worried about missing out on than the warmth of your insides after an uninterrupted listen.

Patrick Masterson

Iress — Flaw (Iress)

Flaw by Iress

Sweeping, epic post-metal from this LA four piece makes a place for melodic beauty amid the heaviness. Like Pelican and Red Sparrows, Iress blares a wall of overwhelming guitar sound. Together Michelle Malley and Alex Moreno roust up waves and walls of pummeling tone as in opener “Shame.” But Iress is also pretty good at pulling back and revealing the acoustic basis for these songs. “Hand Tremor” is downright tranquil, with wreathes of languid guitar strumming and Malley’s strong, gutsy soprano navigating the full dynamic range from whisper to scream. “Wolves” lumbers like a violent beast, even in its muscular surge, there’s a slow, anthemic chorus. Likewise, “Underneath” pounds and hammers (that’s Glenn Chu on drums), but leaves space for introspection and doubt. It’s rare that the vocals on music this heavy are so good or so female, but if you’ve liked Chelsea Wolfe’s recent forays into ritual metal, you should check out Iress as well.

Jennifer Kelly

Junta Cadre — Vietnam Forever (No Rent Records)

"Vietnam Forever" (NRR141) by Junta Cadre

Junta Cadre is one of several noise and power electronics projects created by Jackson Abdul-Salaam, musician and curator of the long-running Svn Okklt blog. As the project’s name implies, Junta Cadre has an agenda: the production of sound that seeks to thematize the ambiguities of 20th-century radical, revolutionary politics. The project’s initial releases investigated the Maoist revolution in China, and the subsequent Cultural Revolution of the late 1960s and 1970s. Vietnam Forever shifts topics, to the American War in Vietnam, and tactics, including contributions from other prominent harsh noise acts and artists: the Rita, Samuel Torres of Terror Cell Unit, Leo Brucho of Controlled Opposition and others. Given those names, Vietnam Forever is as challenging and rigorous as you might expect. Waves of dissonant, electronic hum and fuzz accumulate and oscillate, crunching and chopping into textured aural assaults; wince-inducing warbles and needling feedback occasionally assert themselves. Abdul-Salaam’s harsh shout cuts in and out of the mix. The tape (also available as a name-yo’-price DL on Bandcamp) presents as two side-long slabs of sound, both over seventeen minutes long, both completely exhausting. At one point, on Side A, Abdul-Salaam repeatedly shouts, “Beautiful Vietnam forever!” It’s hard to say what he means. An affirmation that Vietnam survived the war? That its people and culture endure? Or that the U.S. can’t seem to shake the war’s haunting presence? Or even a more worryingly nihilistic delight in the war’s carnage, so frequently aestheticized in films like Apocalypse Now (1979), Full Metal Jacket (1987) and Da Five Bloods (2020)? The noise provides no closure. Maybe necessarily so.

Jonathan Shaw

Bastien Keb — The Killing of Eugene Peeps (Gearbox)

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The Killing of Eugene Peeps is a soundtrack to a movie that never was, a noir-ish flick which winds restlessly through urban landscapes and musical styles, from the orchestra tremors of its opening through the folky group-sing of “Lucky the Oldest Grave.” “Rabbit Hole” wafts by like an Elephant Six outtake, its woozy chorus lit by glockenspiel notes, while “God Bless Your Gutters” conjures jazzy desolation in piano and mordant spoken word. “All the Love in Your Heart” shimmers like a movie flashback, a mirage of blowsy back-up singing, guitar and muttered memories. “Street Clams” bristles with funk and swagger, an Ethio-jazz sortee through rain slicked streets. What’s it about? Musically or narratively? No idea. But it’s worth visiting these evocative soundscapes just for the atmosphere. It’s a film I’d like to see.

Jennifer Kelly

Jesse Kivel — Infinite Jess (New Feelings)

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Nostalgia haunts the new solo album from Kisses guitarist/singer Jesse Kivel. Infinite Jess is full of that knowing melancholy of The Blue Nile, Prefab Sprout and The Pale Fountains that was so magnetic to a certain brand of sensitive young thing seeking to articulate their inchoate visions of a future steeped in romance and adventure. Think wistful mid-tempo songs wrapped in cocoons of strummed guitars, shuffling percussion and wurlitzer piano fashioned into a catalogue of adolescent radio memories. These tunes are topped by the understated sincerity of Kivel’s voice and lyrics which effectively evoke the place, time and emotion of his vignettes. The production suffers occasionally from a distracting reliance on too perfectly rendered tropes — overly polite drum programming, thumbed bass, blandly smooth electric piano — but the overall effect is oddly beguiling. Infinite Jess closes with a charmingly wobbly instrumental cover of Don McLean’s “Vincent” played on the wurlitzer that captures the poignancy of the melody and serves as a fitting epilog to the record.

Andrew Forell

Kyrios — Saturnal Chambers (Caligari Records)

Saturnal Chambers by KYRIOS

The corpsepaint-and-spiked-codpiece crowd are still making tons of records, but fewer and fewer of them are interesting or compelling. The retrograde theatrics and cheap pessimism can be irritating enough (I’d rather be reading Schopenhauer, thanks); it’s even more problematic when the songs can muster only the vividness and savor of stiff leftovers from the deep-freezer’s darkest and dankest corners. Still, every now and then a kvlty band that follows the frigid dictates of black metal’s orthodoxy creates a set of songs worth listening to. This new EP from Kyrios is super short, comprising three tracks in just under 10 minutes that pull off that neat trick: when it’s over, you want to hear more. Sure, the dudes in the band call themselves silly things like Satan’s Sword and Vornag, but the tunes are really good. Check out the churning strangeness of “The Utterance of Foul Truths.” Kyrios claims Immortal, Enslaved and Dissection as primary influences, and the band recognizes the stylistic debt they owe to Deathspell Omega (let’s hope Kyrios digs the twisted guitars and weird-ass time signatures, but passes on the National Socialism declaimed by that French band’s vocalist). Stuff gets even more engaging when bleeping and blooping keyboards vibrate at the edges of the mix, giving the songs a spaced-out vibe. “Saturnal Chambers”? Maybe Kyrios has met the astral spirit of Sun Ra somewhere along their galactic journeys into the heavenly void. He liked bleeping, blooping noises and gaudy costumes, too.

Jonathan Shaw

Matt Lajoie — Light Emerging (Trouble In Mind)

Light Emerging by Matt Lajoie

The second volume of Trouble In Mind Records’ Explorers series is, like its predecessor a cassette that comes concealed within a brown slipcase. Like many other discretely wrapped products, the fun is on the inside. This time, it’s a tape by guitarist who understands that toes aren’t just for tapping. At any rate, I think he’s managing his pedals with his feet. Most likely Lajoie has spent some quality time listening to mid-1990s Roy Montgomery. But since a quarter century has passed, he doesn’t just stack up the echoes. Sped-up tones streak across the surface of this music like swallows zooming close to that sheet you hung on the side of your barn the last time you had everyone over for a socially distanced gathering to watch Aguirre, The Wrath of God. Wait, did that really happen? Maybe not, but if someone were to make a fake documentary about the hanging of the projective surface, this music is suitably epic to provide the soundtrack.

Bill Meyer

Lisa/Liza — Shelter of a Song (Orindal)

Shelter of a Song by Lisa/Liza

Lisa/Liza makes a quietly harrowing sort of guitar folk, singing in a high, ghostly clear soprano against delicate traceries of picking. The artist, real name Liza Victoria, inhabits songs that are unadorned but still chilling. She sings with childlike sincerity in an ominous landscape of dark alleys and chilly autumnal vistas. She wrote this album while chronically ill, according to the notes, and you can hear the struggle against the body in the way her voice sometimes wavers, her breath comes in sudden intakes. But, as sometimes happens after long sickness, she sometimes strikes clear of the physical, achieving an unearthly purity as in “From this Shelter.” A touch of plain spoken magic lurks in this one, in the whispery vocals, the translucent curtains of guitar notes, though not much warmth. “Red Leaves” is earthier and more fluid, guitar flickers striking out from a resonant center, and the artist murmuring dreamily about the beauty of the world and its transience.

Jennifer Kelly

Keith Morris & The Crooked Numbers — American Reckoning (Mista Boo)

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It's easy to imagine Keith Morris as perpetually frustrated. His last album, after all, took on psychopaths and sycophants, and the title of his new release American Reckoning doesn't suggest happy thoughts. There's plenty of bile on these five tracks, of course, but Morris approaches the album like a scholar. The opening verse describes the US as “Machiavellian: the mean just never ends” before referencing Othello and Yo-Yo Ma (the latter for a “yo mama” joke). If Morris and the Crooked Numbers just raged, they might be justified, but they'd be less interesting. Instead, they use a wide swath of American musical styles to thoughtfully consider racial (and racist) issues in our contemporary society. “Half Crow Jim” turns a Southern piano tune into a surprising tale about the fallout from slavery. It's a sharp moment, and it highlights that the only disappointing part of this release lies in its brevity. Morris has said he has more music on the way, and if he continues to mix styles, wordplay, and cultural analysis, it'll be worth a study.

Justin Cober-Lake

Tatsuya Nakatani and Rob McGill — Valley Movements (Weird Cry)

Valley Movements by Tatsuya Nakatani / Rob Magill

In most percussion ensembles, the gong-ist is a utility player, charged with banging out a note once or twice per composition for drama and ideally not screwing it up. Tatsuya Nakatani works on a wholly different level, transcending the possibilities of this ancient, archetypical instrument with vision and an unholy technique. More specifically, his set-up includes at least two standing gongs, each about as tall as he is himself. He plays them with mallets, standing between, in blur speed rolls that range all over the surface of the instrument. The sound he evokes is distinctly unpercussive, more resembling string instrument glissandos than any form of drums, a full-on high-register wail of sound that he sculpts and roils and coaxes into compositions of incredible force and complexity. He also plays a bunch of other percussion instruments, little drums and cymbals which he layers on top of each other so that when he strikes one, the others resonate. It is quite an experience to see him at it, and if you ever get a chance, you should go. Here, he works with the saxophonist Rob McGill unfurling a single 40-minute improvisation at a studio in the appealingly named Truth or Consequences, New Mexico. McGill is an agile player, laying alternately lyrical and agitated counterpoints onto Nakatani’s rhythms, carrying the tune and threading a logical through line through this extended set. He finds frequencies that complement Nakatani’s antic, nearly demonic drum sounds and knows when to let loose and when to let his partner through the mix. The result is a very high energy, engaging adventure in sound that evokes a rare response: you wish you could hear the drums better.

Jennifer Kelly

Overmono — The Cover Mix (Mixmag)

Mixmag · The Cover Mix: Overmono

It’s a really weird time to be advocating for club music of any kind, but Overmono’s Everything U Need EP out recently on XL again showcases what the fraternal duo known better as Tessela and Truss do best: melding thoughtful percussion patterns with these airy, gliding synth melodies that work at home just as well as in the club (theoretically, anyway). It’s not just original material they do well, though; whether it was the Dekmantel podcast a few years back or their live cassette from Japan or this mix for Mixmag, Ed and Tom Russell also have a knack for pacing in their sets. This one features stuff from the new EP as well as three unreleased tracks (not counting the Rosalía remix, which remains one of the year’s most addicting) and names both old and new — listen for DJ Crystl’s 1993 jungle jam “Deep Space” sidled up next to Smerz’s new skyscraper “I Don’t Talk About That Much.” If that sounds like everything you need, lock in and let Overmono do the hard work. Truly, they do not miss.

Patrick Masterson

Pole — Fading (Mute)

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As Pole, Stefan Betke’s work has always been both comforting and disconcerting. The amiotic swells and heartbeat bass frequencies generate a warm human feel in his music despite their origins in serendipitously damaged equipment. Fading, his first album in five years explores Betke’s reactions to his mother’s dementia and reflects on the nature of personality, memory and soul. Building on his trademark glitchy beats and oceanic bass tones, the eight tracks echo a consciousness unmoored by the fog of unfamiliarity that smothers and distorts but never completely submerges awareness. “Tölpel” (slang for klutz) evokes impatient fingers tapping out the guilty resentment of the forgotten and the frustration of the forgetful. The title track closes with a woozy waltz punctuated by recurrent sparks. Fading is a deeply felt work; somber, reflective, stumbling towards understanding and acceptance, alive to the nuances and petty nettles of grief and above all beautiful in its ambivalence.

Andrew Forell

Quakers — II: The Next Wave (Stones Throw)

II - The Next Wave by Quakers

After eight years of silence following 2012’s self-titled debut, Stones Throw production trio Quakers (Portishead’s Geoff Barrow as Fuzzface, 7-Stu-7 and Katalyst) dropped the 50-track beat tape Supa K: Heavy Tremors out of nowhere in September and now, just two months later, are back with another 33-track behemoth that allows a litany of emcees to shine. Calling this The Next Wave is a bit of a stretch when you consider many of the voices on here are from guys who’ve been in the game for years or even decades (Jeru the Damaja, Detroit’s Phat Kat and Guilty Simpson, Chicagoan Jeremiah Jae, etc.), but even so, the dusty grooves and Dilla loops prove perfect foils for many of those who hit the mic. My favorite might be Sageinfinite slotting in with the organ grinder “A Myth,” but even if you don’t like it, everyone’s in and out quick. If you’re burned out on Griselda, give this a go for 1990s vibes of a different kind.

Patrick Masterson

Rival Consoles — Articulation (Erased Tapes)

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There are deep pockets of silence in “Articulation,” ink black stops between the thump and clack of dance beat, sudden intervals of nothingness amidst limber synthetic melodies. London-based producer Ryan West, who records as Rival Consoles, layers sound on sound in some tracks, letting the foundations slip like tectonic plates on top of one another, but he is also very much aware of the power of quiet, whether dark or luminously light. Consider, for instance, his closer, “Sudden Awareness of Now,” whose buoyant melody skitters across factory-sized fan blasts of whooshing sound. The rhythm is light footed and agile, pieced together from staccato elements that hold the air and light. Like Jon Hopkins, West uses the glitch and twitch to insinuate the infinite, chiming overtones and hovering backdrops to represent a gnostic, communal state of existence. “Vibrations on a String” may jump to the steady thump, thump, thump of dance, but as its gleaming plasticine tones blow out into horn blast dissonance, the cut is more about becoming than being.

Jennifer Kelly

Sweeping Promises — Hunger for a Way Out (Feel It)

Hunger for a Way Out by Sweeping Promises

The title track bounds headlong on a rubbery bassline, picking up a Messthetick-y blare of junk shop keyboards. All the sudden, there’s Lira Mondal unleashing a giddy screed of angular pop punk tunefulness, her partner in Sweeping Promises, Caulfield, stabbing and stuttering on guitar. In some ways, this band is straight out of late 1980s London, jitter-flirting with offkilter hooks a la Delta Five or Girls at Our Best. In others, they are utterly modern, lacing austere pogo beats with lush, elaborate vocal counterpoints. “Falling Forward” is a continuous rush of clamped in guitar scramble and agile, bouncing bass, anthemic trills breaking for robotic chants; it’s a mesh of sounds that always seems ready to collapse in a heap, but instead finds its antic balance just in time.

Jennifer Kelly

Martin Taxt — First Room (SOFA)

First Room by Martin Taxt

Sometimes a room is more than a room. In the matter at hand, it is a space that proposes a state of mind and a consequent set of experiences. It is also the score for a piece of music that extrapolate that state into the realm of sound. The cover of First Room depicts a pattern of tatami mats that you might find in a Japanese tea room. Martin Taxt is a microtonal tubaist and also the holder of an advanced degree in music and architecture (next time someone tells you that some good thing can’t happen, remember that in Norway you can not only get such a degree; you can then go ahead and present a CD that shows your work. The fault, dear Brutus, is not in the stars, but in our society.). This music takes inspiration from the integrated aesthetic of the tea ceremony, using carefully placed and deliberately sustained sounds to create an environment in which subtle changes count for a lot. The album’s contents were created by mixing together two performances, one with and another without an audience. Taxt and accompanist Vilde Marghrete Aas layer long tones from a tuba, double bass, viola da gamba and sine waves. Their precise juxtapositions create a sense of focus, somewhat like a concentrated version of Ellen Fullman’s long string music, and if that statement means something to you, so will this music.

Bill Meyer

Ulaan Janthina — Ulaan Janthina II (Worstward)

Ulaan Janthina (Part II) by Ulaan Janthina

Part two of Steven R. Smith’s latest recording project echoes the first volume in several key aspects. It is a tape made in small numbers and packaged like a present from your favorite cottage industry; in this case, the custom-printed box comes with an old playing card, a hand-printed image of jellyfish, an old skeleton key and a nut. And Smith, who most often plays guitars and home-made stringed instruments, once more plays keyboards, which enable him to etch finer lines of melody. The chief difference between this tape and its predecessor is the melodies themselves, which have begun to attain the evocative simplicity of mid-1970s Cluster.

Bill Meyer

Various Artists — Joyous Sounds! (Chicago Research)

Joyous Sounds! by Various Artists

It’s been less than two years, but Blake Karlson’s Chicago Research imprint has already made its presence known both in the Windy City and beyond as fine purveyors of all things industrial, EBM, post-punk and experimental electronics. There were two compilations released within days of one another toward the beginning of October, and while Preliminaries of Silence veers more toward soothing ambient textures, Joyous Sounds! is more upbeat and rhythmic (Bravias Lattice’s “Liquid Vistas” is a beautiful exception). My favorite track is Club Music’s “Musclebound” (not a Spandau Ballet cover, as it turns out), but the underlying menace of Civic Center’s “Filigree” and Rottweiler’s pummeling “Ancient Baths” sit alongside merely unsettling fare like Lily the Fields’ “Porcelain” well. If you’re not already aboard or just have a Wax Trax-sized hole in your heart, you have a lot of work ahead of you with this label’s consistently superlative output.

Patrick Masterson

Kurt Vile — Speed, Sound, Lonely KV (Matador)

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Given John Prine's passing from COVID-19 this year, the new Kurt Vile EP might be received as a tribute to the late artist, with extra significance coming from Prine's appearance here. Four years in the works, Speed, Sound, Lonely KV offers more than just tribute, though. Prine's guest spot (if you could call it that) on his own “How Lucky” certainly makes for a moving highlight, the two singers fitting together nicely as Prine's gruff tone balance's his partner's smoother voice. Vile also covers Prine on “Speed of the Sound of Loneliness,” and he adds “Gone Girl” by Cowboy Jack Clement as he takes further cosmic steps.

His two originals here complete the record, and, mixed in with the covers, draw out the lesson. Vile's entire EP blends the country influences with his more typical dreamy sound, the guitar work bridging the gap between a songwriter's backing and something more ethereal. Nashville, it seems, has always suited Vile just fine, and hearing him embrace that tradition more immediately adds an extra layer to his work. Putting a cowboy hat on his previous aesthetic puts him opens up new but related paths for him, and the five tracks here could play on either a Kris Kristofferson mix or a laid-back indie-rocker playlist. Either way, they'd be highlights on an endless loop.

Justin Cober-Lake

WhoMadeWho — Synchronicity (Kompakt)

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Danish trio WhoMadeWho — drummer Tomas Barfod, guitarist Jeppe Kjellberg and bassist/singer Tomas Høffding — make enjoyable indie dance music that suffers somewhat from lack of personality and a tendency toward a middle ground. That may be due to an effort to accommodate a roster of Kompakt-related collaborators including Michael Mayer, Echonomist and Robag Wruhme. While there’s nothing bad and some pretty good here, the individual songs flit by, pausing briefly to set one’s head nodding and feet tapping, before evaporating from the mind. “Shadow of Doubt” featuring Hamburg’s Adana Twins has the kind of driving bass that anchored New Order hits but also, unfortunately, the unconvincing vocals only Bernard Sumner could get away with. More successful moments like the eerie piano riff and jazz inflections of “Dream Hoarding” with Frank Wiedemann, the arpeggiated house of “Der Abend birgt keine Ruh” featuring Perel and miserablist Pet Shop Boys inflected closer “If You Leave” do stick. Synchronicity might work well on the dance floor, but it doesn’t quite sustain at home.

Andrew Forell

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danetobelieve · 4 years

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Who’s Fext? || Luce and Winston

As weird as it was being at a high school alumni event, Winston had to admit that at least Luce was there. She was cool. All the Vurals were. In their own way. If they had been forced to go through something like this alone then they weren’t sure that they would’ve come out of it entirely sane. They were dressed appropriately for the event. Just office wear really, a shirt and trousers, a jacket, sneakers, a hoodie, okay maybe they could’ve made more of an effort. But this was something that they were doing to keep their mother happy, rather then because they really wanted to. “Thank god,” Winston said as they headed out of the hall where the event had taken place, “I wasn’t sure that I could take another “have you ever shot a gun?” question if my life depended on it.”

Why the high school had wanted her here was beyond Luce. She didn’t think that “tattoo artist at a local shop” ranked all that highly on the list of things that would inspire kids to stay in school. But, she’d spent her day in the art classes, talking to kids about what she did and how her classes had helped prepare her for her career. Which was objectively a lie-- what she’d learned as an apprentice was what had made her successful. But, they didn’t need to know that. Plus, it was good to see Winston here. She’d spent the last five years living out in her cabin, very deliberately avoiding other people. But, it wasn’t bad seeing the neighbor kid again. “You could have just lied. Would have been fun to see the teacher just go wide-eyed and pull the plug on the whole thing.” Luce said with a grin. “I straight up just told the kids that I dropped out of college a semester in.” SHe said as they walked down the hall together.

Laughing Winston couldn’t help but imagine what the AV club kids -- or whatever the current Gen Z equivalent was -- would say if they tried to claim that they had dropped out of college. “I don’t know if it would work as well for me if I tried to lie about dropping out of college or anything like that, if anything I think that they would know that there is no way that I can actually make it anywhere meaningful in my career without college.” They shuffled their feet as they made their way through the corridors of their old high school. High school hadn’t been the best, and they didn’t exactly miss it. Winston hadn’t really found their feet till college and at that point it was nice that they could put high school well behind them. “Besides, I think I’m still too hard wired to be a good student to fuck with a teacher like that. They probably don’t want to be here either.”

“That’s a good point. Your whole deal requires a lot of studying and shit.” Luce said with a nod. Winston had always been good at that sort of thing-- they’d pretty much grown up together, their interests in tech stuff had gone a long way back. “I figured. But, this is why you’re the one with the internship with WCPD. You’re good and law abiding like that.” Stretching, the material of her flannel shirt rubbed against her forearms in an almost suffocating way. She’d figured it wouldn’t have been a great idea to roll up in her usual outfit-- leather jacket, tank, and jeans-- so she’d worn a flannel under her usual jacket. It didn’t hide the tattoos on her hands, but the art teacher had known who she was inviting when she’d extended the offer. As they walked down the empty hallways, Luce glanced down one of the corridors, a smirk growing on her face. “Hey. Do you remember Mr. Blume? Taught chemistry? Wanna pop by and see if he’s still teaching here?”

“I mean, it is all just practice, just a different way of practicing to the work that you do. Besides, my kind of practicing is a lot less permanent then yours, I don’t know if I would have the nerve to give someone a tattoo, I’d be terrified of fucking up.” Winston swallowed at the thought, imagining how angry they would be if someone gave them a bad tattoo. How did people work their way around something like that? They knew that they definitely didn’t have the spine for it. “Wow, am I that easy to read?” Winston asked with a shake of their head, they tugged at the rolled up sleeves of the shirt they had worn today, wishing that they had taken a leaf out of Luce’s book and dressed more casually. A t-shirt would’ve been more comfortable. AS they moved down the corridors and headed towards the classrooms which were called ‘labs’ they found themselves nodding. “Oh hell yeah, I loved Mr. Blume, he was like the best teacher that they had in this place, is he still around?” Winston made their way down the corridors, in some ways it was like nothing at all had changed. Things seemed to be mostly the same and yet they were different. “Think he’s got the same classroom?”

“That’s why there’s a three year apprenticeship. You practice on oranges for a long time, then pig skin, then yourself.” Luce said, rolling up her sleeves and showing them a faded and honestly kind of shitty crescent moon she had on the inside of her wrist. It was far from her best work, but she kept it as a reminder of how far she’d come in the last few years. “You just work until you’re too good to fuck up.” She said with an easy shrug. “And, you’re only easy to read cuz we grew up together, goofball.” Luce teased. As the two walked down the hall, she couldn’t help but smile a bit wistfully. High school hadn’t been too bad for her, honestly. She’d had to deal with being known as “Bea’s Little Sister” for a while, but by the time Nell and Winston got to high school, she’d carved out her own little niche in the art wing. “He might. I just remember blowing shit up when we learned about combustion reactions. That was fun.” She said with a smile.

“Three years of training so that I could potentially ruin someone’s skin permanently,” Winston chuckled and shrugged, “I don’t think after all of that I would trust myself to do a really good job. But then again I was never the artist that you were.” They glanced at the tattoo and raised an eyebrow. “Damn, you actually did tattoo yourself, that must have been a weird experience.” Luce really seemed to be in her element when it came to tattoos and Winston was kind of impressed. “True, I think when you’ve known a family as long as the Dane’s and Vural’s have known each other then you really get good at reading people, I know exactly what it means when your mom purses her lips. You know how she does.” Winston hadn’t loved high school, they’d not exactly been popular and they’d had friends but they’d also had … well not friends. “He once dropped a tiny bit of sodium straight into a puddle for the class, I don’t think that the janitor ever forgave him for it,” they strutted down the corridor and paused outside of his classroom, peering through the little square window of glass set into the door, Winston spotted him working at the desk at the front of the class. “Hey, he’s in there, you wanna say hi?”

“Eh. It’s all about practice. Some people might start with talent, but that doesn’t mean shit compared to consistent practice.” Luce said, a hint of humor in her tone. That statement could be applied to magic as well. Bea had always been the focus of their parent’s attention, the first born, the one with the flare their parents were looking for. But talent didn’t measure ability. At the mention of her mother, Luce full body shuddered, shaking her head at the mere thought. “You’re not wrong in the slightest.” She agreed. Yet another quote-unquote benefit of living with her sisters… their mothers increased ability to meddle in her life. She fucking hated it. At least when she was in the woods, she’d had some physical distance to keep her family out of her life. Laughing, she grinned at Winston. “That sounds just like him. He is? Shit, yeah, let’s go in there.” Pulling open the door, Luce grinned and waved a hand. “Hey there, Mr. Blume. Still kicking huh?”

“I guess it’s like a musical instrument, the more that you work on it the more confident you are, but also the more able to deal with unexpected shit you are able to be… though I hope with tattoos you don’t often have to deal with any surprises.” Winston laughed gently at the idea of a surprise arising during a tattooing session. That wouldn’t be ideal. Obviously. “It’s nice that you’re back around, I know you had to do your time in the woods and stuff, but it’s cool to actually see you and Nell and Bea more now, there were a couple of years when I was in college and Nell was travelling, kinda felt like you guys were on a different planet you know.” The Vural family had always been beyond good to Winston and they would never forget that goodness. They had given them a lot and they would do whatever they needed to feel as if they were on equal footing once more. Following Luce into the classroom, Winston waved as well. “Hey Mr. Blume, can’t believe you’re still stuck here right…” they fell silent as Mr. Blume’s eyes snapped up and locked with Winston’s leaving a chill to trickle down their spine as they realised something was wrong, “you okay Mr. Blume?”

“Yep, pretty much. Eh,” Luce paused, thinking about the strange walk-in tattoo that she’d just done the other day. “There are some surprises that can happen. Usually just people saying they’re ‘totally fine’ and then passing out on me. When you decide to get a tattoo, just be honest with your artist.” She advised. At their mention of the time when the family was spread all over the place, Luce’s joking expression wavered for a moment. If Winston thought they were on a different planet then, then call her a fucking astronaut. She’d rather be back in her cabin than living with Bea and Nell. She’d had an entire place to herself, now she had a room and a shed. A great shed, but still a shed. As soon as the two of them stepped closer, Luce’s eyes narrowed, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end. There was something off, something evil about Mr. Blume. Not in a typical science teacher way either. In straight up, that’s some bad shit kind of way. As Winston moved closer, Luce grabbed them by the shoulder. “Don’t--” Before she could finish that sentence, Mr. Blume vaulted over his desk and hurtled towards them with unnatural speed.

Winston frowned for a moment, “I definitely think that I would be the type to think that I was totally fine when in actuality I would be moments away from passing out, besides, I’m not exactly the best with blood and shock and stuff…” they sighed and shook their head gently before continuing. “Either way, if I do get a tattoo I will do everything that I can to be entirely honest with whoever is putting a permanent mark on my body. Seems like it is in my best interests really.” They noticed Luce’s expression and immediately realised that she hadn’t felt the same. But now didn’t exactly seem the time to ask her about it, so Winston decided that they would simply have to ask about it later. Or not at all. Depended on how they felt it would be received. They didn’t want to intrude after all. “Fuck, run,” Winston didn’t need to see the empty look in Mr. Blume’s eye, they didn’t need to see the way that they had cleared that desk with a single bound and they didn’t need to see the bee line that they were making towards them, “run run run.” They were pushing Luce out of the door and sprinting after them. “I don’t remember Mr. Blume doing that when we had chemistry together, even when I forgot my homework a few too many times.”

As soon as Mr. Blume yeeted himself over the desk, Luce had already turned on her heel and started sprinting away. Thank god she didn’t go running this morning, her legs were fresh and she needed the extra oomph, given she was hauling ass in heavy fucking boots. “Less quipping, more running!” Luce yelled over her shoulder as she booked it down the hallways. The school was empty, which worked out in their favor. But, as she looked behind her, Luce saw that Mr. Blume was hot in pursuit and gaining fast. There was something about his eyes, a dead look behind them, that just screamed ‘oh fuck no’ to her. “This way! Shortcut outta school!” Grabbing Winston’s arm, she pulled a hard right down one of the hallways towards one of the back entrances she’d used to cut class back in the day. Here’s hoping the door lock was still busted. As they neared the double doors, Luce kicked her foot out to push open the door and ran outside into the darkness.

It was all that Winston could do to stop themselves from screaming and swearing. Something that they weren’t about to do in front of someone who they had grown up in semi awe of. “Good idea, more running,” Winston said as they glanced over their shoulder and realised that Mr. Blume was easily keeping pace, in fact they might’ve even been gaining on them. Winston was sure that if Mr. Blume had seen them back in the day then they would’ve definitely told them off for running. Luce seemed to know exactly where they were going however, and as Winston saw that Mr. Blume was maybe seconds behind them they tried to pack on a final burst of speed as they exploded out of the school and into the perpetual night. “My car is in the car park, we should just get the fuck out of here and get someone more qualified to deal with this to help.” Things were going well, they were really making progress, they were getting further and further away and then of course, Winston Dane, the clumsiest person in the world had to have two left feet and trip over a curb.

Luce nodded at Winston’s plan-- it was as good an idea as any and whatever the fuck Mr. Blume was clearly wanted both of them dead. He looked human enough, so maybe if they lured it to the police station, the police would just riddle him with bullets and that would end that situation? Just make up some story about the guy going nuts and trying to murder them? But, as soon as they made it out into the parking lot, Winston tripped and fell over the edge of the curb. Pausing to help them up, Luce gritted her teeth together as she saw that Mr. Blume had not, in fact, been tricked by the sharp turn. “Fuck it.” She said, glancing over her shoulder to make sure she and Winston were the only ones around before holding her hands out and letting free a burst of magic. A ball of fire the size of a softball, concentrated and burning a bright white, soared from her hands towards Mr. Blume. “Get fucked, old man!” She yelled. But, instead of engulfing him in flames, something weird happened. The fire seemed to dissipate, recede, the colors growing dimmer and dimmer until there was nothing but smoke in front of him.

After learning the truth about the Vural family, Winston had suspected that Luce could also do magic too, but they weren’t about to admit that to them without letting them explain it first. But apparently when she had thrown a literal ball of bright white fire at Mr. Blume, that wasn’t something that they were going to need to do. “Yeah, get fucked…” Winston had made it to their feet just in time to see the fire expand around Mr. Blume, it should’ve burned them away and yet the magic just seemed to dissipate and vanish as if the oxygen around them had been snuffed out, “okay we should definitely run,” Winston said sprinting past Luce and grabbing her hand, pulling her towards their complete shit mobile. Their ankle twinged gently as they ran, the mostly healed wound that they’d received from the weird gremlin thing at UMWC not loving the amount of aerobic exercise that they were getting. Looking back, Winston tried to think of something that would buy them more time, do anything to get them more space, they had a plan, but it would take them a minute to enact it and they wanted to make sure they were in the car first.

The effort of throwing the ball of fire barely winded Luce, but it was the irritation of watching the man just continue to pursue them that really got to her. What the fuck? How did he just do that? There was no way that he would have been able to just… dissolve her magic like that. It was a fucking fireball. Letting out growl under her breath, she raised her hands again, intent on nuking this man into the ground. But, before she could conjure up another ball of flames, Winston had grabbed her hand and yanked her towards their car. “I can take him!” She protested, but when she saw the way that they were limping, she gritted her teeth. Even if she wanted to try and duke it out with Mr. Blume, there was no way that Winston would be able to manage. They shouldn’t be caught in the middle of this shit. “Ah screw it, the car it is.” She said, running ahead towards the familiar looking vehicle. “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go!” She yelled, watching as Mr. Blume continued his relentless pursuit after them.

“You can absolutely take him I am completely and totally sure of it, but at the same time the guy just absorbed what looked like a white hot fireball, which by the way was very very cool, and I don’t really want to find out what the hell else they can do.” Winston reached into their pocket and dropped their keys immediately. Great. “Uh, if you could throw a few more fireballs at him whilst I get the keys then that would be great,” Winston was already pressed flat to the tarmac of the car park, they were wriggling under the very greasy and dirty underside of their car in an attempt to reach their keys, praying that they would be able to get them before whatever the hell Mr. Blume was got to them first. Somehow they didn’t think that when their old chemistry teacher got their hands on two of his former students that he was going to explain covalent bonds to them or quiz them on the periodic table.

“You’ve gotta be kidding me.” Luce groaned, but stepped up to bat nonetheless. Rolling her sleeves up, she took a deep breath. Calm. Steady and calm. Disregard the neighbor kid behind her fumbling with their keys, completely ignore the murderous chemistry teacher on a warpath. Just straight up forget the fact he’d made her fireball completely vanish in a puff of smoke. None of that mattered, none of it. There was only the fire inside her. The burning, white hot energy. Flames she so carefully stoked and tended to, urging her onwards. And all she had to do was let them free. With a sharp exhale, Luce held out her hands and jets of red hot fire streamed out from her palms. Not fireballs, he’d already demonstrated he didn’t give a shit about those. No, she was going for volume this time. The parking lot lit up with the red hot glow of flames, shooting twenty feet in front of her from both of her hands. Aiming at the ground, she urged the magic on, fueling the fire to burn, even on the empty asphalt. Pulling back her hands, sweat dripped down the side of her face as she glared triumphantly at Mr. Blume, who had stopped for a moment on the other side of the flames.

As Winston’s fingers curled around the ring of their keys, they dragged them towards them and managed to bound up to their feet, slipping their keys in the lock of the car they pulled the door open and slipped the keys into the ignition. As they turned it and heard the car roll over a few times before sputtering into life, Winston thanked whoever had given them luck today because their car never ever started first time. Turning around, they were just in time to see Luce’s hands fire … well flames in great jets in front of them. A huge wall of fire erupted into life and Mr. Blume was hidden from view. Winston’s jaw fell slack and they were awe struck by the sheer display Luce had made. They’d managed small magic but nothing as big as what Luce had just done. For a moment, Winston was convinced that she’d saved them. Second time lucky right? And then, the most terrifying thing that Winston had ever seen happened. Mr. Blume appeared inbetween the flames that licked the open air, and then stepped through the magical inferno, causing the flames to shy away from their form as they made their way forwards. The heat seemed intense however, and Winston was convinced that they could see some of the skin on Mr. Blume’s face sizzle in the heat of the air, but they were through the wall of fire and making their way towards the car. “Luce, get in now!” they snapped, throwing the door open as they spun the car around and revved the engine, ready to speed away.

The second Mr. Blume vanished from sight, Luce had a fleeting moment of exhilaration. She’d done it, she’d made him back off. Maybe she’d even-- before she could get too happy, he appeared again, in the middle of the flames. Her magic was repelled away from him, skirting around his form as he took a slow step towards her. His eyes stared at her, unflinching, entirely focused on her. A chill ran down her spine and she recoiled. “What are you?” She asked, more to herself than to him. Before either of them could respond, Luce heard Winston’s car roar to life, heard them yell at her to get in. They didn’t need to tell her twice. Turning tail, she ran for the door and slid inside, slamming the door shut. Grabbing hold of the Oh Shit Handle, she stared through the window as Mr. Blume continued to come for them. “Let’s get the hell outta here!”

“You don’t need to tell me twice.” Mr. Blume was sprinting towards them, Winston could hear their footsteps and see them hurtling towards them in their rear view mirror. They shifted gear, slammed their foot on the accelerator and felt the wheels spin in place for a moment before the car shot off. Keeping their eyes bouncing back from their mirrors and the windscreen, Winston reached inside of themselves and harnessed the well of energy that they accessed in times of magical need. Taking a deep breath, they began chanting under their breath. Mr. Blume was moving with surprising speed and Winston could see them cutting across the car park as Winston was forced to weave between the cars that were still parked here, which wasn’t many. As they reached the exit to the school, Winston turned left and finished their incantation. As they turned left an identical copy of their car appeared to peel off towards the right. Winston slammed the speed on, heading towards the one place that they could think of which might have some information on what the hell this all was and what was going on here. “Fuck, that was really fucking close.”

As they zipped out of the parking lot as quickly as Winston’s car would allow, Luce slumped in the back seat, panting from the effort. Doing a mental check of her energy levels, she grimaced. She’d expended more of her energy on that than she’d originally thought she would. And it didn’t even phase him. What the fuck was Mr. Blume? As she stared out the window of the car, she was startled to see an illusion of their car appear in the middle of the road. What? That wasn’t her. Which meant… Leaning forward, Luce grabbed the back of Winston’s seat to stabilize herself. “Winnie. When were you gonna tell me you were a spellcaster, huh?” She asked, exhaustion letting her annoyance come through in her tone a bit more than she intended.

Perspiration beaded on Winston’s forehead as they slammed their foot down as hard as it would possibly go. They knew that they needed to eat, but they would have to do that later. But they’d found that for them, after using any amount of magic it was important to have a sudden and ferocious hit of calories as soon as possible to avoid too much of a deficit. “Sorry, I ….” they swallowed, “towards the beginning of this year I found out about all of this and I just haven’t been telling people about it because honestly I’m not very good and I also know that with Miriam Flemming out there it isn’t exactly safe to be broadcasting that information.” They took a left, then a right, then three more lefts, then two rights and another right, finally convinced that they were safe, they turned the wheel and headed for the old Scribe building. “But, we need to work out what that was and how we’re going to deal with it, because Mr. Blume is too dangerous to just leave to their own devices apparently, but I have a place we can go.”

#who's fext?#p: luce #wickedswriting #para #chatzy para

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kakaji · 4 years

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HOW THE CONQUEST OF INDIGENOUS PEOPLES PARALLELS THE CONQUEST OF NATURE by John Mohawk

For some twenty years I’ve been doing a range of writing, including journalism, as a hobby. As a writer I have brought people a lot of bad news. Describing the fortunes of this hemisphere’s and to some degree other hemispheres’ indigenous peoples provides an endless sequence of bad news. At one time I was the editor of the largest American Indian publication in the Americas, Akwesasne Notes, which dealt with ideas that at the time were definitely not mainstream. I remember putting out issues in which we raised questions about the nature of the relationship of the human spirit to the natural world and broached the idea that human-created societies are inappropriately distanced from the physical realities of the world. We talked about areas of philosophical thought that have not been explored to their depths in the English language, although I imagine they’ve been explored at some depth in other languages.

Lately, though, my thinking has been shaped by my official career. I teach social history, a subject not usually associated with ecology, although I think it’s high time to make that connection. But first let me mention some of the issues I find myself grappling with in social history, which deals broadly with people’s everyday lived experiences in different cultural contexts and also with how people come to think and feel the way they do about what they encounter in the world.

I became interested in social history when I was in college, a small and conservative and Eurocentric college. In those days undergraduates were required to take a course in philosophy; in the course I signed up for I learned that there was really only one genre of philosophers, who occupied a narrow niche in the world of thought: they were all Western European, they were all male, they were all from what we would describe as the elite privileged classes, and as a whole they stayed within a set of boundaries they defined for themselves. They belonged to a club, as it were. Each one was required to know what was said by the preceding one, and each one was required to build on that. If a student asked the professor, for example, if there were any philosophers in China or Africa, the more or less curt reply was, Not that I know of, and stick to the book.

Having been exposed since then to the ideas of people of many different cultures, I ask myself why these ideas are not part of the overall survey of philosophy even though the profession has loosened its collar a little bit in the thirty years since I was a student. After all, there certainly can’t have been only one stream of knowledge in all of history. I think we need to study Western civilization in order to understand when certain narrow and limited ways of thinking first appeared and where we went wrong. Therefore, I dutifully went back and started reading about the foundations of Western thought, trying to understand it in the light of other cultures.

As I studied Greek philosophy, I asked myself, Who were these Greeks, who gave us what we think of as the foundation of our thought, of our culture, and gave us our ideas about nature and society? I soon made a distinction between what the Greeks said and what they did. My philosophy professor had described a group of men sitting under a tree philosophizing; I saw them as an arrogant bunch who thought they had a new and better way to think about the world. But what were the Greeks actually doing? They were the creators of the most astonishing military organization in the world, building on centuries, even millennia, of military experience. Some clever people with good administrative and organizational skills put together armies that were able to march across the world and defeat everybody in their path relatively easily.

Classical Greece is taken as the starting point of European history, but actually Greece was old by the time of the classical Greeks. Over thousands of years the populations of the Mediterranean had been conquered numerous times before the formation of the Greek city-states we associate with classical Greek culture. By the time we get to the Romans, all of the peoples had been Hellenized. It is difficult to find anything resembling the remains of an indigenous Mediterranean culture.

This lack of indigenous culture leads me to William McNeill’s observations in The Rise of the West. He points out that the utopian religions which appeared in the two centuries before and after Christ arose out of rootless urban populations who had no consciousness of place. Successive waves of conquest destroyed any continuity of culture. This tied in with my reading of Isaiah Berlin’s The Crooked Timber of Humanity, in which he points out that episodes of horrific human slaughter and devastation throughout history often are the product of utopian ideologies.

Utopian ideology in the context in which I’m using the term means that people have an idea, they have a plan, and according to their plan a utopian society is at the end of their path. All of humankind’s problems are going to be solved by reaching this goal. But usually while they’re pursuing their goal, they discover that there are other people who are standing in their way or at least occupying ground needed for them to carry it out. You can’t have a utopian society unless you’re willing to crack a few eggs, as it were, and it’s almost always necessary to crack other people’s eggs to get there.

Understanding the nature of utopian ideology helps us find answers to certain troubling historical questions. In Hitler’s Willing Executioners Daniel Goldhagen asks, How could average everyday ordinary churchgoing Germans, who we all know were fully acculturated twentieth-century Western civilization people, get up in the morning, walk outside, shoot women and children in cold blood, and then come back in the evening and have supper as though they were doing nothing more than making widgets? How could people act in such a cold-blooded manner? Well, all we have to do is follow the real story of Western civilization and we’ll see that there has been episode after episode after episode of people getting up in the morning, going out, and murdering people. I think it started in what we call the modern era at that moment when Western Europe exploded out of Europe and expanded all over the world, beginning in the 1450s when the level of intolerance in European societies rose enormously. Pogroms were started against the Jews, and then in 1492 the Jews were expelled from Spain. What we have is a pattern of behavior of utterly unbelievable cruelty in a society that claims to be civilized.

Another example of the consequences of utopian ideology is the campaign against magic during the three hundred years starting around 1450. Individuals who had a spiritual relationship with plants or animals were considered to be practicing magic. In the 1600s it was believed that these people had renounced Christ and were in league with the devil, who promised them the powers of nature in return, powers they then used against their enemies. This same belief that people making use of the powers of nature must be getting their magic from the devil prevailed in New England: when John Mason or Cotton Mather railed against the practices of the Indians, they were really railing against nature as an evil power, an evil power that must be controlled, overcome, and stamped out.

Witches weren’t going to admit to using magic, so a certain amount of coercive force was required, and the Inquisition was invented in order to drag people into dungeons and twist their limbs until they confessed and even named their neighbors, who were then brought in and treated similarly. That was the beginning of the witchcraft trials—for the most part involving women, by the way. According to some accounts, millions of people over three centuries were accused, tortured, and burned at the stake. What were they guilty of? They were herbalists; they were herb doctors, who believed that the powers of nature could heal the human body. This belief was a direct threat to the power of the Church, which proclaimed that when Christ ascended to heaven, God the Father and the Holy Spirit went with Christ. Until they returned to earth, the Church was the only possible intermediary between humans and supernatural powers. The success of herbalists in curing their patients contradicted this faith in the sole power of the Church.

The war on magic was a psychological war on nature. It wasn’t waged by individuals but by the major institutions in Western culture—by the Church and the state in collusion with each other. They were not only making war on nature, they were also cracking eggs along the way. People accused of being witches were frequently selected because they had property that was desired by the local authorities, so quite often doing away with a witch proved profitable for the coffers of both town and Church. They took the property, including the land. Multiplied by hundreds of thousands or even millions of people over centuries, the plunder must have amounted to a great deal. You might say that the witches provided the early capitalization for the formation of European nation states.

Classical Greek philosophy also rejected nature-based religion. Let’s turn to Socrates by way of example. What did Socrates say about the people who were in the temples interpreting dreams and making forecasts and telling fortunes? He said it was all nonsense that should be replaced by rational thought. Socrates argued that the world must be based on reason, not on dreams and myths and the like. As far as I am concerned, one of the great fountainheads of Western civilization’s understanding of the human spirit is actually the old Greek myths that Socrates disparaged. They are among the most interesting artistic forms ever produced by the West.

I gradually came to believe that it’s not enough to study the history of philosophy, because what the philosophers are saying is entirely different from what is happening. Socrates lived at a time when the major form of social organization could best be described as either military oligarchy or military dictatorship. That is what the Greek city states really were. As I kept delving deeper, I found that in the history of philosophy the part that deals clearly with what’s really going on is something we don’t ordinarily read in social history, and that is military history. Military historians don’t shrink back from talking about political agendas. A military historian comes right out and says, The agenda here was to plunder; the plan was to use so many cannons, so many of this and that. When military historians study human behavior, they come to the conclusion that the purpose of organized armed aggression is to plunder. Now, that’s something which should be inscribed on the library wall at Columbia: the purpose of organized armed aggression is plunder!

I believe that philosophy was used by Western civilization to obscure the act of plunder by cloaking it in fancier terms. Aristotle could have said, We’re evil exploiters, and we’re going to conquer these people; we have the arms to do it, and we’re going to do it without any bad conscience whatsoever because we have the power and we can get away with it.

He could have said that, but he didn’t. Instead, he developed a rationale for one culture ruling another. What he said was: We’re a community of very bright people, and we need someone to do all the drudgery. We’ll make these other folks do it because if they don’t, we real bright people won’t have any time to sit under a tree and think about how smart we are. We’d have to be hoeing the garden, washing the dishes, and all the rest. But we need time to think, and if we think long and hard enough, we’ll come up with all the answers. In fact, the future of the world lies in the governance of the intelligent people of the world, and the project we will set for ourselves is to define civilization. It’s a project of organized thought that will lead us to solve all of humankind’s problems in science, in engineering, in art, in every arena.

Columbus Day was observed recently. For me Columbus Day is a reminder of the Spaniards’ behavior in the Caribbean between 1492 and 1516. Apologists for the Spanish say the decline in the Indian population was not great because there weren’t that many Indians there. However many Indians there were, by 1516 they were almost all dead. Whether there were 800 thousand or 800 million, let’s not lose track of the point here: there was a catastrophic decline in the Indian population on the major islands the Spanish were occupying. Another point needs to be made: one of the books I read said that the Indians were killed off by diseases. No they weren’t. They were not killed off by diseases. The viral diseases the Spanish had that devastated Mexico didn’t reach the Caribbean islands until 1518 or 1519.

What happened during that generation-long occupation of Hispaniola, Cuba, Puerto Rico? In his book The Conquest of America Stzvetan Todorov raises the question of how the Spanish could be so callously indifferent to the lives of the Indians on the Caribbean islands. The same question applies to the Spanish on the mainland of Central America and South America and to the English and then the Dutch in North America. How could they? How can there be greater indifference to human life than was exhibited in the African slave trade? Western civilization is filled with such episodes.

Let’s consider the Caribbean islands. What do the major works (excluding Kirk Sale’s book,The Conquest of Paradise) say about the Caribbean islands? Samuel Morison says in Admiral of the Ocean Sea that it was unfortunate the Indian population declined at that time; the Spanish didn’t want the Indians to disappear, it just happened. Or take Lewis Hanke’s book, Aristotle and the American Indians. Hanke reports the existence of torture factories on the Caribbean islands. The purpose of such cruelty was not merely to extract wealth, although wealth was certainly one of the prospects; it went way beyond that. There were torture manuals that recommended using green wood instead of dry wood to prolong the time it takes to burn somebody to death.

In the late sixteenth-century the Dutch artist Theodor De Bry did a series of illustrations based on the reports of Bartholomé de Las Casas, a priest who was offended by the torture. Las Casas wrote thirty pages describing what was happening on the islands. I have to tell you it’s gut-wrenching stuff. Read his descriptions; then read the chapters in Daniel Goldhagen’s Hitler’s Willing Executioners and tell me there is a difference between the psychology of those Germans and those Spaniards. The same thing is going on, only the Spanish are a little more artistic. The Germans tended to torture people more at arm’s length, whereas the Spanish were up close and personal about it. And it went on and on for twenty-five years, but it’s essentially an unknown story. You won’t find it in any American history textbook.

The King of Spain was embarrassed by all the reports about the cruelty of the conquistadors. He wasn’t happy that they were getting out of hand and escaping the crown’s control over them, so in 1550 he called for a debate. Juan Gines de Sepulveda and Bartolomé de Las Casas, two priests who were also lawyers, stepped forward to make the arguments. Sepulveda took the point of view of the conquerors. He’s called the father of modern racism because of that. He concocted every excuse he could think of to explain why it was all right for the Spanish to do what they were doing to the Indians, and of course he started off with what the Indians were not—they were not Christian and they were not civilized; therefore, the Spanish were justified in treating them as they did.

Sepulveda would have used pretty much the same language and the same reasoning to explain why the Spanish were justified in doing what they did to the parrots, to the trees, to the fish, to every living organism on those islands: they were all biologically inferior beings lacking the consciousness and culture of Spaniards. They didn’t have any rights and therefore could be enslaved and subjected to whatever the Spanish felt like subjecting them to—and the Spanish didn’t need to have a bad conscience.

I think we look at this kind of racism from the wrong perspective in our culture. The real issue here is not Spanish racism toward the Indians. It’s the Spanish claim to superiority over every group, whether human or nonhuman. Once you believe that one group is better than all the rest, murder is justified, genocide is justified; in fact, any act against nature is justified. The only thing that matters is the aggrandizement of Spanish culture.

In all of the literature about what’s happening to indigenous peoples, John Bodley’s book Victims of Progress, on the conquest of indigenous peoples in South America today, seems to spend the most amount of time looking at how people rationalize to themselves their right to seize land, to move other people out of the way, to move plants and animals out of the way—all in order to meet the development needs of modern industrial society. They can do this because of their belief system that says what they are doing is not only not wrong, it has to be done in order to create a world which will be able to solve all of humankind’s problems in the future.

What will the payoff be? One view is that through science we will someday conquer the major diseases of the world, and we’ll be able to live forever. How you get from that idea, by the way, to the idea that it’s all right to bulldoze huge areas in the name of curing cancer is a tremendous leap. Curing cancer has nothing to do with plundering. There’s not a single thing in the way of plundering the earth or destroying peoples that is necessary in order for scientists to be doing research on cancer. The two aren’t connected at all, although when you talk to people, right away they say, Well, we have to do this because we have to cure cancer. What? You have to be two hundred miles from the nearest road killing trees in order to cure cancer?

Think about the Germans in World War Two and the fact that not only were they willing to kill people but they were completely without conscience about it. Most of us look back at that period with horror and ask, How could they have done that? And we say, Well, they were just a little clique of criminals at the top of an aberrant order who had this crazy idea for a while. I encourage people who believe this to read Goldhagen’s book, which claims they weren’t a little clique of criminals at all. According to him, the whole of German society was in on it because they had so valued themselves and so devalued everyone else, not just the Jews. Given that pervasive mentality long enough, most of us would be affected by it too.

The core of Hitler’s message was that Germans as the privileged few deserved to have the fruits of the earth. All the others were in the way, taking up space and resources that should be Germany’s rightful inheritance. So this was not only about race; it was one of the largest projects of armed plundering in world history. But people can’t get up in the morning and say, Oh, we’re pirates and thieves and murderers, and we’re out to plunder. You can’t say that, and the Germans couldn’t either. The Germans said, We’re the master race, we’re the perfect example of humanity, and we’re going to solve all the world’s problems. The same thing the Spanish said.

Those Germans never stopped to reflect about what they were doing, never asked themselves if what they were doing might be wrong. Those Spaniards never stopped to reflect, either. All through history, groups who plundered—like the American miners in California and the American military in the northern Great Plains—never reflected. They built up utopian ideologies that protected them from their conscience. This raises the question in my mind, What about us? Are we like that? Are we blind? Do we have no conscience? Are we so sure we’re on the right path, the right and necessary path, that we have no choice but to follow it and sometimes crack a few eggs? Do we share that attitude?

Every day about forty thousand children die worldwide from preventable causes. You have to look hard to find the literature about it, but there are publications like the United Nations reportThe Fate of the Earth’s Children and Frances Moore Lappé’s Hunger: Twelve Myths. Some of these children die from diarrhea, which can be caused by bad water, but usually it’s assumed that the major cause is the lack of enough food in the world to sustain the poorest people. Lappé says that’s not true. There is enough food, but poor people don’t have the money to buy it. It’s a question of distribution.

What should we do? We should find a way to get food to poor people, shouldn’t we? But that’s not happening. What is in fact happening is that the major financial institutions in the world are imposing something called Structural Adjustment Programs on governments in poor countries. These programs are designed to create hunger. They specifically forbid countries that have a lot of poor people from subsidizing food, and they demand that measures be taken to drive down wages in those countries. The point is to make the poorest people in the world subsidize the richest people in the world by keeping labor at the lowest possible cost. We know that for every percentage point of deprivation they suffer, a number of people will die.

We know this, but we’re willing to live with it. We’re willing to be consciously ignorant. Beyond the fact of hunger is the fact that the engine driving it is the same engine—the same thinking, the same structured institutions—that is driving the destruction of forests and the extinction of animal species, that is at this very moment driving the extinction of the great fishes of the sea, of whole species of plants and animals in many parts of the world. But this is happening far from our vision. Here in New England reforestation is actually taking place. We’re not cutting our trees because we’re cutting somebody else’s. We don’t notice that our newspapers still come from trees, because they don’t come from trees here. For a long time I believed the problem was that people don’t have enough of a connection with nature, and that’s why they’re able to do the things that they do. I don’t believe that anymore.

I publish Daybreak, a magazine in which you’ll find stories about indigenous people trying to think through the issues of free trade and globalization, trying to figure out where they stand, what action they should be taking. Essentially, the purpose of the politics of the intellectual movement of the American Indians in the hemisphere as a whole and certainly in the southern hemisphere is to encourage biological diversity and encourage local food production for local consumption—the kinds of things Schumacher talked about.

Indians understand that self-sufficiency is the antithesis of the global economy. And I think we need to understand that the global economy is playing a major role in the destruction of our natural resources and of species and is rationalizing that destruction in terms of John Locke’s definition of what is rational. According to Locke, rational thought leads you to do that which produces the maximum amount of money for you. This means even down to destroying the last tree, the last fish. As a result of rational thought you try to transform nature into money. Locke argues that it’s a wonderful thing to have money because it transforms our wealth derived from nature into something solid and concrete. Of course, money is not solid and concrete anymore; it’s not even plastic anymore. It’s electronic money we’re dealing with now.

I propose to you that we live in an age of utopian excess that is driving us away from doing what would be sustainable and survivable and is diverting us into participating, in ways we’re not even conscious of, in activities that are destructive in the long term. A good example of this is the electronic information revolution. This revolution will sweep most of us along, whether we want to go or not—in the same way that my ancestors were dragged kicking and screaming into the print revolution. We’ll have to join it because it’s a way of communicating. Some people think the electronic information revolution is going to solve all our problems—the same kind of utopian stuff I’ve been talking about.

Read Wired magazine. It reads as though people have lost their minds. It asks questions like, Is the world growing a brain? No! But our brains are going dead! People who think in the wired mode see a marvelous world of opportunity, without asking themselves, opportunity for whom and opportunity to do what? The information age is concentrating wealth in the hands of the few who have access to and control of resources. The American middle class is being dismantled, and it’s even cooperating; it’s going quietly to its death!

The plan is to make everyone part of a worldwide web, a worldwide marketplace. Internet users have the same capability to communicate with people in another part of the world as with people right in their hometown. This means, for example, that you’re not going to need accountants from North America anymore. You can buy accountants for six dollars a day in Calcutta. You’re not going to need engineers from North America any more because you’ll be able to get all the engineering skills you need on the other side of the world. The idea is to have fewer people doing more things more cheaply, and the cheapest labor of all is on the other side of the world from us. That’s the long-term prospect. But in fact cheap labor does not solve our problems. The things that really matter in human society are not in computers, and they’re not in any utopian vision about solving all the world’s problems.

We are not going to make it to that place called Utopia, folks. It’s not going to happen. The reality is that for all of our ego, which seems to me colossally large, our life span and the space we occupy are incredibly small, and the distance between here and Utopia is insurmountable.

Human cultures have an enormous capacity to reframe things. Part of our problem in Western culture has to do with how we reframed nature. Cultures that are nature based have reframed nature in ways that have given it life and color and energy and excitement. I went to visit a particular group of Indians living on what you might call a gravel pit. No trees, no grass. Why don’t they plant some grass? The place is a desert as far as the eye can see. You’d look at that landscape and think to yourself, My God, this is one of the most depressing places I’ve ever been; it never rains, it’s always so dry. Then you talk with the Indians, and they bring that place to life for you. The place is full of things you can’t see. Live with the Hopis for a little while; their world is full of spirits that come in from the sky, from the ground. Almost every few days the Hopis perform a ritual of one kind or another to acknowledge the spirits of their place. And what a wonderful world they have.

Once I visited a tribe on the northern Great Plains. I was just sitting there with members of the tribe. I looked around and thought, No trees. But they have something else: a culture, built by the creative internal aspects of human society, that establishes a beneficial relationship between the society and nature. Not between the individual and nature. An individual can’t practice Lakota culture or Hopi culture. You need a whole group of people for that. When that culture exists, it has a sort of magic. You can find people who are part of it and who don’t have very much money, but they are living more happily than the people living in California’s affluent Marin County. Of course, the people in Marin County are trying to find that happiness; they’re trying to find that connectedness, that essence which makes your lived human experience truly lived and human. It exists among Buddhist communities throughout the world, it exists among the Australian aborigines, it exists among Indians in the deep rainforest. These are happy, adjusted people who are not destroying their environment, who are in fact celebrating their environment because they aren’t engaged in utopian thinking. They’re reliving a cycle instead.

To have a utopian vision you must believe that time is linear, that someday life will be better than it is here and now, and you have to sacrifice others in order to make it happen. I think this has been, if I may say so, the history of the West, a series of competing ideas about how we are going to get there. When we get there, we’ll all be happy. And where is there? It may be heaven, for example, or it may be a machine paradise.

The actual trend over the centuries has been toward a politics of conquest and plundering. And we have rationalized our behavior in the context of that conquest and plunder. When we make choices about what we’re going to buy, most of us don’t ask ourselves, How does this purchase implicate me in the plunder? Most of us don’t talk to people who are from Indonesia before we go and buy our Reeboks. Instead, we listen to Michael Jordan saying, I wear these shoes; he’s a great basketball player, so they must be good. Most of us don’t ask ourselves, What’s behind my purchase? Could there be military dictatorship behind it, exploitation of people, destruction of towns and villages, pollution?

In choice after choice that people make, they tend to buy things that come from places which create social orders they’d prefer not to support, but in fact they do choose those products because they can claim innocence of the underlying conditions. So people commonly will buy things in the grocery store that were grown 3000 or 4000 miles away. Most people I know can’t tell me where the clothes they wear were manufactured, who manufactured them, or what the conditions were under which they were manufactured. We’re all like the television star Kathie Lee Gifford, who started her own line of clothing, which is produced in the Third World. We don’t know anything about it.

I think this kind of information is part of social history. Social history has to do with where the things in your life come from and what the conditions are that produced them and how the conditions that produced them contribute to the life you’re living. It also has to do with what expectations you have concerning the kind of life you might live, with what options you have for choosing the quality of life you want. This kind of information is not offered to people in college. Where do you find courses on values? Show me a course about choosing your options. You can say, Well, of course, it’s not there because if the college offered a course like that, its funding would be jeopardized.

I began by saying I wanted to emphasize the connection between ecology and social history. Once we recognize this connection, we are led to obvious choices. I don’t believe it’s necessary to cut down the rain forests to satisfy consumer demand for cheap lumber. I don’t believe it’s necessary to create conditions that kill 40,000 children every day in order to maintain the world market economy, which in my opinion shouldn’t be retained in its current form. If you believe that’s necessary, then you can support the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund, but I personally don’t believe we have to take steps to starve people in the Third World in order to drive down the price of labor. I don’t believe it was necessary to murder all those Indians in the Caribbean. We should step back and ask ourselves some serious questions: Just how much of that world market economy do we really need? What costs are we paying for what we get?

https://centerforneweconomics.org/publications/how-the-conquest-of-indigenous-peoples-parallels-the-conquest-of-nature/

#John Mohawk

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mundeign · 4 years

Photo

something stupid

word count: 2.9k

setting: old philippines, early 1900s

based on this song | photos: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

!! note: poorly researched setting and information, characters and some places are fiction, contains some filipino words, and i haven’t written in a long time

“Oh my, I’m sorry, but I’m not much for dancing,” Amaya says, declining the handsome young man’s offer to have a moment with her on the floor, which breaks her heart quite a bit. Some feelings might have emerged for this fine gentleman since the very day they met, which she would never admit though she has been dying to know what it would feel like to hold his hand ever since.

However, she thought that not dancing with him tonight would save her from making a fool out herself. Ever since they were school kids, she noticed that Felix’s exuberance and quick-wit have been challenging to catch up on. And she often enjoys every single second of it trying, but she did not want to sound unintelligent that night for she was wearing an elegantly lavish garment from cloth that her Papa had bought overseas.

“I really am sorry, Felix. Some other time, maybe?” She suggests. Oh, but she wanted to dance with him. Yet, she was afraid she would run out of smart things to say. She loves how articulate he is, especially when he would talk about his interests, such as Bosch, his favorite artist. She took note of how he thought the artist was ever so brilliant for “depicting fantastical creatures that were so out of the ordinary,” he said. And she was quite embarrassed for she has never heard of a Bosch or ever seen any of his works.

So she asked her Papa to buy her oil paint and charcoal one supper, but he told her that he was too busy and that it was too much of a hassle to get them because they would have to sail to España, he said. When she pointed out that Felix’s father bought his in Maynila, she was told that it was inappropriate for her to talk back and that she should instead learn how to sew as it was easier and fit for her delicate hands. She thought that sewing was not easy at all. She would always prick her fingers. And she was absolutely vexed, she could not stand the sight of him.

Without telling Papa, she had decided to come up with a plan involving sneaking out the mansion with some of her necklaces. Of course, Adonis, one of her brothers, saw her go to the trading shop near the school where he was attending, which was actually in the neighboring town. He did promise not to tell on her. However, he warned her that Papa would be ruthless when it comes to discipline. She was reminded of the many times when Adonis disobeyed Papa when they were younger. Papa would even compare him with the young Amaya because though she was a year younger, he felt she was far more mature than Adonis.

Although she was aware that she was adored and cherished as the única hija in the family of four sons, Amaya also knows that the family name is far too important for her to tarnish with whatever “foolery” that she was up to. She had thought about it carefully.

But she assured Adonis (and more herself) that nothing was to happen to her, saying she’s much smarter than she looks. Then asked him if he would be kind enough to buy her first commission, which he thought was funny as he joked that she was precisely like Papa.

And she is. She takes pride in being her Papa’s child—ambitious and determined and will do all means to get what she wants. As she prepared herself to create her first piece, Amaya read and asked about other artists around town, tried to educate herself as much as possible, and started discovering and practicing her niche. However, she thought that impressing someone who might never see her the way she wants to be seen, is a difficult commission.

And though she has come to love and appreciate all that she has learned, she feels that starting a conversation with Felix now, might end up stuttering or not making sense at all. She is not one to fancy humiliation.

“Ah, but you don’t have to fret too much. I have two left feet! And I am very sure that no one would notice if a lovely looking maiden like you would be around to dance with me. Come on now.” He persuades her, grabbing her right arm and pulling her to the middle of the room, knowing that she could never say no to him.

She flinches a little when he touched her, but relaxes when he grins at her. She felt as if though her entire body was on fire. And she thought she would not care at all if she got burnt, like Nanay Elena’s burnt empanadas during merienda, as long as the spark that ignites the fire would be his touch.

“How have you been, Maya?” He quietly asks as he guides her. She looks down at their feet, moving left to the right and forward and backward, trying not to step on him.

“I haven’t seen you in a long time.” She mumbles, still looking down, thinking that if she looks up at his eyes, her ribs will crack from how hard her heart is beating just looking at him.

“It has been a long time, I know.” He agrees, trying to catch her eyes, but she’s quite stiff. Although she had wondered many sleepless nights what it would feel like to have his arms around her, she did not want to acknowledge the actuality of her missing him and that yearning that she felt for the past four years that he has been away to Intramuros.

When the Toledo family visited the town of Pinsel, everyone was elated, knowing that Señor Josef Toledo is an eminent artist known to have worked for many families of the principalía in Luzon, España, and Pransiya. Don Salvador Tanghal, Amaya’s Papa, was the one who invited the artist over one afternoon to have his portrait painted. And to catch up on as they were old friends, who Don Salvador said was once a rival for a maiden but ended up being his best mate as they both mope over the fact that neither of them was chosen.

Every time she looked back at the first time they met, she can’t quite point out why these emerging feelings came to be, and it made her restless. That afternoon the Toledos knocked on their door, Amaya found herself charmed by the little boy beside the artist, who was holding a bag that looked heavier than he was over his shoulder. With Señor Josef was his son, Felix, who came along to observe as part of his training to be an artist like his father.

She remembers being intrigued that the ten-year-old boy begged his Tatay Josef to let him come to work with him when she and her brothers were always sent out to play outside whenever their Papa was working. Maybe it was the way his eyes would light up whenever she would ask about his Tatay or the way he would fascinate her with his vast interests in arts, but maybe it was mostly the way he would encourage her to talk about anything, and he would listen.

“Well, I have been keeping myself busy.” She says, contemplating whether she should open up about her readings and interpretations of Gentileschi’s works, which she found ghastly but engrossing at the same time.

“Really?”

“Mhm.” She decides not to talk about Gentileschi. She was not even sure if she has enough knowledge to even have her own interpretations.

“That’s lovely. May I know what’s keeping this little bird busy?”

“I’ve been painting actually.”

“Oh?”

And they were silent for a while before Felix pulls her closer to him. As she tries to concentrate on their steps, she could not help but smile at this strange yet mellow tingling feeling when she felt his hand move.

However, she notices the scowling eyes of the other ladies, specifically Melchor and Angela, making her uncomfortable as if their glares were burning her skin.

Although it is flattering that he would ask her to spend time with him, she was quite aware that she is the fourth girl he had offered a dance to. She was also well aware that Felix Toledo had always had his way with girls even when they were school kids.

Amaya remembers how every time the Toledos would visit their little town, her girlfriends would always run to the Tanghals and ask about the fascinating young man. They would ask questions that she would not even dare ask the boy, which made some of the girls agitated, accusing Amaya of keeping him all for herself. And of course, it was true. She wanted to be the only one who knew him, but she often denied these allegations except to the portrait of her mother hanging in front of the dining table.

“Have you missed me?” Felix suddenly asks out of the blue. When the question left his lips, she looks up swiftly. He studies her face and chuckles at her flushing cheeks, which causes her to scoff at this man’s self-regard.

“Of course, I did. But I would never tell anyone.” She answers eventually.

“Oh?” She laughs a little at him as she playfully hits his arm.

“Well, I have missed you, and I’ve been telling everyone.” He teases. She turns her head back to face him as she freezes when he looks into her eyes with a well-pleased smile, knowing his words would wind her up in knots. She takes a deep breath before giving him a sardonic smile.

“Excuse me.” She says, then she lets go of his hand.

“How maddening he is.” She mumbles to herself as she walks off to the back door and out to the garden. She should not have walked away like that, she thought. However, she knew she could not handle their judging eyes as well as her ever so growing feelings for Felix.

She takes a deep breath before letting out a loud sigh. Walking around the oval, she tries to shake off the heavy feeling in her chest that she noticed only happens whenever she would think of him in a way she could never think of herself with other suitors. Back then, she would deny these feelings to herself. She would refuse to succumb to the ever confusing plight of being in love, thinking it was more of a predicament than a state of happiness.

Staring at the pond, she looks back at when seventeen-year-old Aurelio, the eldest Tanghal, came home from college a year earlier than expected. The rain was pouring hard when Adonis opened the door to be greeted by his brother with clothes soaked and tired eyes. And with him was a lovely maiden who introduced herself as Carmelita. Amaya recalls how Aurelio knelt on his knees with this frustrated look on his face, begging Papa to let him make the young maiden his wife. However, Papa was very much against it as Carmelita was just a gardener’s daughter, saying she only wanted their wealth.

And at that time, Amaya was so sure that Aurelio’s love was genuine, and she wanted that for herself. She wished on every star and prayed to the deep skies. However, the Tanghals realized soon that Aurelio’s love may be genuine, but he was blinded. No one could deny that Carmelita was beautiful, and Amaya does not blame her for using that beauty to her advantage. But she thought that his brother was kind and pure, and did not deserve the broken heart she had left him. They found out that Carmelita was seeing other men, and none of them except Don Salvador knew what happened next.

Amaya tried not to think much of what had happened, but she remembers looking at her mother’s portrait with tears in her eyes, asking the picture to protect dear Aurelio. And she wished on every star and prayed to the deep skies, that she may never fall in love.

“What are you thinking about, Maya?” Felix takes a step back when Amaya turns to face him with a doleful expression on her face.

“Are you okay?”

“Of course.” She whispers as she looks back at the pond.

“I’m sorry, Maya, if I said something to upset you. I was just teasing.” He says.

And they were silent for a while before Felix walks closer to her. They could hear the music playing from inside the mansion. They could hear the chatter and the laughter and the clinking of wine glasses. They could even hear the insects chirping and the wind blowing against their skin. But all Amaya could listen to is her uneven breaths and how her heartbeat keeps knocking on her chest.

“I love you.”

Felix suddenly looks at her, dumbfounded at what the maiden beside him has said. And she, with shaky hands, stares back at the lake, trying to memorize the direction of the wind and how it pushes the pond’s little waves. She thought the moon looked especially mesmerizing in the water.

“Amaya,” Felix calls out to which she reacts. He never calls her Amaya.

“What do you mean by—“

“I love you, Felix.” She repeats, this time, she is looking at his eyes. At the moment, she is glad that she isn’t melting like she thought she would.

He tries to say something, but whenever he would open his mouth, he would close it right away. So he thinks for a moment as Amaya takes in every feature of his face in this light. She feels lighter, she thought, now that what she felt for the young Toledo boy was said aloud.

“You cannot say that, Amaya.” She wants to tell him that she did not like the way her name sounded. She wants him to call her Maya like he always would.

“Why not?”

“You just can’t!” When these words left his lips, Amaya was startled as she has never seen him like this. She watches him as he scratches the back of his neck then sighing.

“You are in no position to tell me what I can and cannot do.” She says after a few moments of him pacing back and forth.

“And so what? What if I feel this way for someone? And so what if it’s for you?”

“Why?!”

“Why?! Punyeta, Felix! I don’t know! Is it so bad, huh, that I am in love with you? I know that I am sure with what my heart is telling me and that it couldn’t help but want to tell you too. I have loved you ever since you painted me the sky.” She says the last words a little quieter.

Every time she would look back at the first time they met, she can’t quite point out the reason as to how these emerging feelings came to be, and it made her restless. Maybe it was the way his eyes would light up or the way he would fascinate her, but perhaps it was mostly how he would encourage her to talk about anything, and he would listen.

And as he listened to the little girl, he painted her the sky, and she remembers staring at it and crying, knowing that this is the sky where her mother would be. Felix remembers smiling at her and pointing at the bird on the branch at the side of the painting.

“Little Maya.” He mumbles.

“But you can’t love me, little bird.” He says before distancing himself from Amaya.

“Why not?” She asks again. He studies her face for a little while before speaking.

“I’ll be leaving again soon,” Felix pauses as he holds her cheek with a weak smile.

“I’m to be married.”

As soon as he announced it, Amaya slaps his hand off of her face. She looks at him with such hurt and such confusion that what he said to her made him upset too.

“I’ll be off to Maynila again to meet with her family and to arrange the wedding.”

She could not speak. All she could do is look at the pond, wishing it was the sea so she could just walk in the middle and float off anywhere but here.

“Her name is Nieves Macario. She loves to sew and dance.”

“Did I ask for her name?” Amaya snaps.

“Oh, I just thought you should know.”

And they were silent for a while before Amaya turns around, her back facing the pond. She looks at the window where the dining room is, where her mother is. And Felix, wondering what to do, stares at her. He did notice her elegantly lavish garment and thought she looked lovely. He did notice the way she wouldn’t look at him in the eyes and thought it was cute. And he had noticed every single thing about her ever since.

“Do you love her?” She asks, still looking at that window, wishing that if she walks into that room, her mother would embrace her and tell her that everything will be alright.

“Of course, why would I ask her hand in marriage if I did not?” And with that, Amaya calmly excuses herself to Felix and walks back to the mansion, so gracefully that Felix was worried as he knew that she only acts so stiff to guard herself.

He watches her walk away and could not do anything. He did not do anything. He just watched her. And as soon as she was out of his sight, he turns to face the little waves of the pond and tries to forget that he hurt his little Maya.

#writblr #short story #one shot #creative writing #mine #i had to repost because i was having technical issues

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buckylokistark · 4 years

Text

Paintings ~ Part II

Summary: Loki fled his home, too tired of being the cause of his father’s constant disappointment. With help from Heimdall, he escapes to Midgard, the last place his father would look for him. In dire need of a job, he meets Y/N, a struggling artist trying to be recognised for her work. Can they help each other or are they holding one another back?

Masterlist

previously on Paintings: “Depends, are you Y/N?” You opened and closed your mouth a few times. Having recognised his face, you realise you were standing right in front of none other than Tony Stark, former CEO of Stark Industries and billionaire.

__________

“Uhm, huh- yes, yes I am. Pleased to meet you, sir.” You held out your hand for him to shake, trying to stop stumbling over your own words. Seriously, it’s English, what’s so hard about that?!

Tony Stark then took your hand, shaking it with a firm grip before releasing it and sitting back down. Wait, when did he get up?

“So, you’re making the new artwork?”

“Yup, that’s me, I’m the one.” God, you’re still acting like a fool. Get it together!

“So modern art is your niche?” You nodded. "And you’ll do any modern style?"

“Well, I focus on expressionism, although I am not bad when it comes to surrealism, for example Salvador Dali and his melting clocks. Kubism, abstract expressionism, acrylic, watercolour, I can do almost all expressionistic art forms with most materials.” You take on a proud tone, happy to talk art. This is where your comfort zone lies, your escape route, your go-to topic for a safe conversation.

“You’re in luck, I want something expressionistic, never been one for surrealism. You had anything in mind?” He was completely down to let you handle anything, as long as he knew what 'anything' contains.

“Not really, I need to make a painting suitable for a person but also make it suitable for their home and perhaps other occupants of the room. Would you rather we schedule a time for me to come take a look or do you want to email me some photos?” You got out your agenda, having always preffered writing things down instead of typing. It might have something to do with forgetting typed things, only remembering them when on paper.

“I think a visit would be better, right? Makes you get a feel of the room, the space, a more in-depth experience for a better result.” He was just grasping at ideas now, sipping his coffee calmly and leaning back in his chair.

“Hmm, yeah, you’re right, but some people are too busy or aren’t comfortable in letting me in their house so they email me.” It was indeed more difficult, but they weren't comfortable so you just had to work with what you had.

"Not to sound like an absolute douchebag, but my team did a background check and everything, they wouldn't let me just choose someone, they had to check them thoroughly. You're very lucky, by the way. I had to persuade them to let you do your thing. I believe you know what part made them doubt you?" You did know what he was talking about, and shame filled you to the brim.

About twelve years ago, you had an enormous fall-out with your family, resulting in them sabotaging your income by spreading awful rumours about you. Your income did decline drastically, making you nearly bankrupt. In the desperate need of money, you ended up working for Strak Industries, a company solely focused on copying and faking Stark Industrie products. From securitysystems and phones to merchandise, everything was copied. You got a job of replicating the stuffed animals as close as you could get with cheaper materials. The pay wasn't great but it got you back on your feet, ready to continue painting. Stark Industries and Strak Industries got in a huge fight, legal authorities getting involved. Because you had workes your way up to manager of the production of all the stuffed animals, you were put in a bad spot.

"yeah, sorry, I was on the brink of losing everything," you ended up saying, cursing yourself as soon as the words left your mouth. "losing everything?!" You could've said anything and you chose that?

Stark gave you a look, but thankfully didn't comment on the words.

"So, when do you want me to come by? I would prefer as soon as possible, but it's up to you." He opened his phone, looking on his agenda for a possible date. Scratching his goatee lightly, he pursed his lips before sighing and saying, "Would coming thursday work? Two days away?"

"Yes, absolutely. Any time in mind? Perhaps early morning or afternoon?"

Stark tought for a moment, excusing himself to look more thoroughly on his phone to see when he'd have time.

“How about 5 o’clock in the afternoon? would that work for you?" He tilted his head, eyes so intense it seemed as if they were looking right through you.

After finetuning the details, you finished talking and drove back to the shop, cursing yourself for taking so long.

Soon you arrived at your atelier, seeing Loki through the glass window reading a book.

You smiled to yourself. Loki was the kindest soul you've met in your life, gentle and soft like nobody else could ever be. It made you wonder if there was a possibility for something more. something intimate.

a crow, as black as the night, flew past, snapping you out of your thoughts. Your eyes followed the black bird before wandering back to the shop. Finally you moved, slowly walking towards the entrance.

the bell above the door jingled softly, letting Loki know someone entered. He looked up and smiled, slowly closing his book and moving towards you with so much grace it was impossible to look away.

“Hi Loki, I got to go, still need to finish that two window piece for Mrs. Barton and the final sketch for the mural that one woman, what’s-her-name, wanted. The blue, winter, ice-y vibe?” You rushed to the back of your shop, throwing your bags in a corner and running up the stairs to put on your older clothes, the ones that were allowed to get a bit of paint on them.

“The woman’s called Idina Menzel, the one who voices the lead character in that new movie, Frozen?” Loki has listened to you praise the trailers with such emotion, he took it up himself and researched the main characters, discovering that the woman who ordered a mural two weeks ago from your shop. The mural made more sense now, as well.

The words Loki spoke made you halt. Lead character in Frozen? She asked you, a small, unexperienced artist, to paint a mural for her? A smile began to grow on your face. Spinning around, you ran back to Loki.

“Oh my- she- she ‘s famous and bought something from me? This is huge! I will be known by a few circles of famous people now that Tony Stark and Idina Menzel ordered from me! Do you understand what this means? I can finally get recognised for my work, I can finally earn enough to buy my own place!” You barrelled full force into Loki, hugging him close. Loki himself slowly hugged back, unsure of what exactly to do.

Loki smiled. You were happier than you’ve veer been all year, even with the stress of performing good for famous people. Lost in his thoughts, Loki looked out the window. A black raven sat on the little bench across the street, looking right at him. No, he thought with a shock as his eyes grew large, not an ordinary black raven. This little bird was Diaval, loyal assistant to Maleficent, Loki’s distant relative. What is he doing here?

“Loki? Is something wrong?” His eyes flew back to yours when your words registered in his head.

“No, love, nothing’s wrong. I just realised I forgot to do something, could I be excused for a bit so I can go home and finish it?” He glanced outside, seeing Diaval still sitting there, quietly waiting. You let go of him, nodding your head.

“Of course you can, no problem. I got nothing planned for the rest of the day so the shop won’t be empty, you’re free to go.” With that, you hugged him one ast time, saying a quick goodbye before turning around and walking to your current project. One last look and wave, and Loki was out the door.

“Where is she, Diaval?” The raven flew to the right, landing in a small alley and morphing back to human.

“This way, she’s bought a new place down in Queens when she heard you were staying here.” Loki groaned. Ever since they found out about each other, Maleficent started acting as his big sister, watching all his moves like a hawk.

He followed Diaval into the alleyway, preparing for the inevitable Apparition he had to make.

“Alright, name the address, I’ll take us there,” Loki said, making his disdain clear in his voice. Diaval rattled the location, and off they were.

“Where are we?”

“The back of the diner a block away from your house, she put anti-Apparition-wards up, didn’t she?” At the last part, Diaval sheepishly nodded his head.

"Hello Loki."

"Maleficent." As was expected, Maleficent looked as stunning as the gods themselves, flaunting her body with a black. Maybe it was a family thing?

"I have come here to talk to you about important matters." As the words left Maleficent’s mouth, Loki's eyes flicked to hers. Important matters? With her resources it must be life-threatening to come to him for assistance.

"There have been... unusual sightings in Europe. It appears to be a form of magic, more powerful than I have ever seen in my entire life."

"You have any leads on the exact location?"

"It seems to be traveling. I have people running tabs on it. It started in England, then went off the radar for a while before reappearing in France, where it travelled through Belgium, into Holland. They're travelling east, getting closer to Germany as we speak."

What could there be in Germany, the northern part of it, that would be attractive to someone who possesses magic? You got the big cities, Dusseldorf, Berlin, maybe Hamburg? Or perhaps...

"Cologne. They're heading for Cologne." Maleficent looked at him weirdly.

"Why would they go to Cologne?"

"I visited this woman, truly magnificent, who took care of all mutants from Holland, Belgium and Germany. The school of Xavier was too expensive and small for mainland Europeans, so I helped set it up just outside the city," Loki admitted with a sigh. He had hoped to never see her again, one time was more than enough and he doesn’t know how she’ll react to him suddenly appearing out of nowhere after leaving her alone for eighty years.

__________

Taglist: @birdgirl90 @lunawitch19 @bird-with-pencils @shesakillerkween

#loki x reader #michelle's writings #paintings #loki

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im-cre8tive-blog · 4 years

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Interviews

DVC Student: Jojo

What does design mean to you?

Design is everything to me.

What do you believe in as a designer?

I believe in design that makes sense and is as communitive as a language.

What are your goals?

I want to do everything I possibly can while I’m on this earth. My current short-term goals are moving to NYC after graduation and hoping for the best in my post-grad career. I also will be (hopefully) attending NYU for my MA in Visual Arts Administration. I eventually want to design with fashion brands and working in ad agencies to prevent racially tone-deaf campaigns and create REAL diversity and inclusion in the design world.

What is your mission as a designer?

Refer to question 3 lolll

How will you benefit most in this program?

Not sure I benefited from this program design wise. It has definitely helped me realize that I have an obligation to design with intent and push buttons people really don’t like being pushed. This program has made me realize that liberal designers are to be side eyed at all times.

What do you wish you had known before going into the DVC program?

Nothing worth mentioning.

Are there resources you feel are important to be exposed to as a design student? If so, what are they?

Many resources like Microagressions 101, Intro to How to Be a Designer and Take Criticisms. But in all seriousness, these students need to take diversity classes.

How do you think your professors can help you become a stronger designer in the program?

Lisa Moline and Adream Blair were the only instructors that had a bit of value to me. They were understanding, helped me outside of design classes and encouraged me to be the best I could be.

What are your hopes, dreams, and fears when it comes to being a DVC student at UWM?

N/A

Is there anything you need, want, or wish to be successful in the design program?

N/A

What do you stand for?

Racial and Gender equality for black and brown men, women, and the LGBTQIA.

Why does it matter?

Because it’s important.

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DVC Student: Farouk

Design to me is a form of expression that’s contained and more on the professional side

I believe as a designer I should be able to create and manipulate simple ideas and make them better than they already were

my goals are to be successful in life and to change peoples lives w whatever I create with my art.

my mission as a designer (I don’t really know, I haven’t really thought about it)

I will benefit most in this program because I will be learning things I don’t know about and how to better shape myself as a designer

I wish I had known about the flexibility of the classes I can take because I just have a certain amount of classes in my head that I am meant to take

resources include the adobe creative cloud (I don’t really understand this question)

my professors can be better listeners and really understand where I am coming from as an artist because I am not too familiar with what the norms of being a designer might be

a fear would be being too expressive and being overwhelmed with my ideas as a designer because I like to think and I like to be as expressive as I can be and I feel like designers sometimes can be restrictive and too simple

my hopes are to be able to be as expressive as I want to be while also being a designer so I can do me and also do design

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DVC Graduate: Danielle Dupey

How has the program helped you out post graduation?

Going through any branding process from beginning to end, and how each part is equally important and shouldn’t be overlooked. Thinking outside the box is a huge aspect; you don’t have to be new, you just have to be different. Obviously, I wouldn’t be nearly as versed in the Adobe Suite if it weren’t for my fantastic teachers/mentors. Between learning Photoshop and Javascript, the DVC program has helped me grow my passion for design tremendously.

What's the biggest you have learned in dvc?

Design can be simple, but meaningful. How it makes people feel is one of the more important facets of design. Design impacts everyday life more than we know, and effects almost everyone.

How is the professional world different from the classroom?

Sometimes I found myself feeling crushed for time with projects in class, but that was nothing compared to a professional environment. In my experience, clients/employers want things done yesterday, everyday. There are obviously many different scenarios, but I’ve come to learn that starting with fewer design variations then choosing one direction and perfecting it has been the most consistent and successful design pathway. Also, thick skin is a must. Learn to accept and understand constructive criticism in school, because in a professional environment people will tear apart your designs without the slightest thought of the person making them. Try not to take it personally, but always have reasons to back up your case. Sometimes a little convincing is all it takes. One last thing - make connections and network. This is my biggest regret about college - the more people you know the more resources and ties you have to fantastic opportunities. You might not think someone working at a logistics company would be a good connection, but maybe they just met up with a friend from high school who is now a Creative Director looking for a new intern.

What do you do when you get stuck on a design?

I take a break, and walk away for awhile. Sometimes I'm going in circles or stuck in a box and I don’t even know it, but after some time away from the design thinking about other things I can come back with some clarity.

How do you stay creative?

Design prompts are always fun https://sharpen.design/ Otherwise perusing other designers and projects on sites like Pinterest, Dribbble, Moat.com, Logoinspirations.co, etc.

How do you stay inspired?

I’ll be honest it’s a little difficult at times; I’ll get burnt out from designing and will need a little break. After awhile, I’ll start noticing everyday things that I’ll want to change up and redesign. I always try to have a desire to make existing things better, and how that influences things I create in the future.

How do you develop your style?

Try everything out! The more mediums you practice or try out, the more you learn if you like to do those things. And if not, you can check them off your list. Some people find their niche easily or right away, and some it takes awhile. Personally, I’m still trying to find my personal style. But through trying things out, lots of practice, and a strong focus on one idea I’m getting closer to my niche.

What made you get into design?

I’ve always loved art, since I was a kid. I would always be drawing and painting, so I knew I wanted to do something with it for a career. Attending UWM gave me so many options to choose from in the art department, and even though first year classes seemed redundant, each one was a core

What are your goals?

I’d like to be the Lead Designer at a fast growing and fun company in the world of recreation, retail, or entertainment.

How do you feel about the way others will view your work?

Honestly I wonder about that all the time. You want people to love your work, and you want to be the best. But I consciously remember to try and not working

Tell me about your most favorite design moment?

I was working on a project in Experimental Typography, and our project was an interactive installation of bubble wrap typography on the streets of Milwaukee. Seeing people interact with our designs was incredible, knowing that we positively impacted their day even for just a moment felt great.

How have you been able to manage workload?

Setting a time to work on something, and when that time is up move on. If you’re on a roll that’s fine, but working on one thing forever can get you bogged down and forget about other things. If you can chip away at multiple things throughout the day by assigning them a certain time amount and in the order they need to be done then your workload will seem more manageable.

Any other advice you would give to a DVC student?

Always always always always back up your work. Invest in a hard drive and back up weekly or every other week. Ramen is great but don’t underestimate the power of a great meal, and a decent night’s sleep. It’s not “cool” to be a starving artist (literally) with no sleep. Your personal and mental health are worth more than your final projects.

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Proffesional: Sav

What should we keep in mind with working with clients?

Your time is worth money regardless of how Mandane of a task or seems to be

How. Do you keep your professionalism up?

Fake it till you make it, it’s all about the little things like business cards, a business email. But mostly it’s carrying yourself like a professional would.

How do you brand yourself?

Find the thing that is the most you, for me it’s drugstorebuddhist as a brand name, and stick to it. Also the things that you do in your services are branding too, you want your brand to be associated with good service and excellent work!

What are the 3 most important thing a designer should know?

Not every thing you do as a designer is going to make you as an artist happy, sometimes the client wants something really simple and you just go with it.

The clients are always going to want to tweak the design to death and sometimes it hurts but it’s okay!

It’s very important to keep a personal practice for yourself just for fun where you can reach those creative goals.

How have you been able to include multi-medium work in your designs?

Products! A lot a clients only think that I can offer digital label designs or tshirts but for me having a catalog of all the things I can do as a designer and an artists helps my clients, it’s like a good menu at a restaurant they always want dessert.

What can. You say about being an entrepreneur?

It’s hard! Nobody tells you that when you run a business you’re doing the work of 6 people but it’s awesome and eventually you’ll be able to hire people if that’s your goal. But it being hard doesn’t really hurt because you’re doing what you want to be doing for your business!

How is the professional world different from the classroom?

In the classroom I feel like there is a lot of critique that’s optional and you have a lot of control, a lot of the time as a designer you show them a finished product and sometimes they need something different entirely and you have to make those changes.

What do you do when you get stuck on a design?

I look through similar projects I’ve done in the past, other designers work to be inspired and generally seeing what the industry is up to or working on a different design for a bit and circling back with fresh ideas

How do you stay creative?

KEEP YOUR OWN PRACTICE ALIVE! Even if your creative energy is not in design make sure you’re doing work for yourself!

How do you stay inspired?

Honestly the energy that the clients have when they have project ideas for you and how excited they are to work with you and see your art!

How do you develop your style?

I feel like it’s years of being an artist surrounded with others in my community and pulling from all the things that I like and making them my own.

What made you get into design?

I don’t know what happened but all the sudden people who were commissioning me decided I’d be great for logos and product labels and I fell in love with the things I could do outside of my illustration background

What are your goals?

I would love to run a store front artists collective to maintain that community that often artists desperately need to keep their practice alive

How do you feel about the way others will view your work?

Nervous as all hell, hopefully that goes away sometime but I also hope it doesn’t because it makes me want to prove myself to my peers

Tell me about your most favorite design moment?

I finished a product Commission for a clients and she loved it a lot to the point of tears for me helping her Company become Something physical that she could see outside of her head

How have you been able to manage workload?

Wake up at the same time every day even though it will kill you a little bit and keep yourself on a strict schedule even if it means having to go somewhere else just to be able to work, just because you can work at home does not mean you should

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