#probably through inprint

[cluepoke-archive]

If you guys wanted prints of my art what pieces do you guys think I should put up...

[idliketobeatree]

dead boy detectives characters as art objects and sculptures; extended ---

hello, i remembered i made some subjective explanations and notes on few of my choices for this post, and i thought some folks might enjoy it. soo let's get into it.

1.

monty finch

author: anders krisár

pretty self-explanatory; it's a moulded male torso with visible inprints on its skin.

anders krisár’ artistry explores the themes of loss, separation, and the condition of the psyche through the lens of a human body in duality: perfectionism meets unsettlement, skin meets marble and bronze and polyester, to create sculptures spanning geological time far beyond the living's capabilities.

monty's creation by esther was already stripped of any human agency. "he was made a boy, not a person", small, almost doll-sized, with a singular purpose: to seduce and entice the chosen dead boy into their doom. the naked skin and specifically the position of its arms are mildly erotic, but in a way that makes your skin crawl. the imprints are intimate, placed possesive; notice the thumbs digging close to especially sensitive areas like nipples and the belly button.

the latter seems to connect the "creator" to the subject, the navel here as a symbol of cruel, invasive motherhood. the fact that the torso is cut off in the middle and at the neck furthers the uncanny valley feeling of a young male body, but then again. this is a realistic portrayal. so was it ever a person? what does it have inside to make dents so profound? how deep you can press until it breaks?

--- i'm leaving out crystal and edwin (for now?), but @nicheoverhere brilliantly noticed that it was the same author for both. that was intentional! because glen martin taylor is all about taking kintsugi, which is a beautiful art form of repairing fine china and generally delicate things with veins of precious metals, but with materials like— nails. scissors. barbed wire. all ugly. the repair after a great shattering is seldom pretty after all, they really are similar in this regard. ---

2.

charles rowland

author: robert hudson

okay, strap in. this funky dreamy world belongs to robert hudson, and i picked it for charles rowland because it's all first impressions. the colours? the composition? they give you the 80s vibes, almost; like something a kid would design if you asked them what a time machine would look like. it could probably move in several ways. the pieces seem mismatched, but hold themselves together surprisingly well. or maybe you underestimate it?

it's neither big nor small. you can't tell its size at all. it's a bit overwhelming to look at, at first, and at second, and after a while, but it carries that comfortable familiarity and nostalgia for— well, nothing in particular, because the longer you look, the sadder its past seems. the bold pops of contrasting colour are fighting for your attention. they want you to like it! and yet, the major material seems to be just. rusted steel. made from tools.

and look at that botched up sphere, it wants so badly to be a perfect sphere and it knows it'll never be one. fine!! perhaps it could be a football ball instead! or maybe a head. if you close your eyes, that is. and this facing-up horseshoe? a lucky charm, made to collect good luck and keep it from falling out cause god, it needs it.

---

3.

niko sasaki

author: justin cloud

---

niko sasaki, now how do i describe her? let's start by saying— she's cleary a her. this one is a she. and there's something to be said about blooming, and femininity, and delicacy, because pink is a hopeful girly colour and a surprise and a delight.

what are you doing in a gallery, little flower, shouldn't you be at home? in a field? look how pretty you are! mind you, of course there's something wrong with her as well, but you're not sure if that is because someone messed it up, or because of a different entity alltogether. was it always half-electric? its elegance seems purposeful— the iridescent metal fits all too well with the white-pink petals— but also uncanny. and oh suddenly you can't stop looking at the stigma from which a pollen should release aaany time now.

when i look at her, at her black artificial stem and the small leaves imitating the real ones, i wonder if she doesn't want to lure me into a trap. is it her fault?

the beautiful petals seem like the only thing left real of the flower. whichever way she turns, it will probably mean— death. and flowers are ephemeral. what is a flower mounted to a wall, fortified with steel, connected with cables and enfused with electrical energy, then?

i think she's a self-preserving survivor. ---

4.

the night nurse

author: elizabeth turk

---

now. the night nurse.

of course it's the only piece in the collection where the background needed to be dark. no one here is older than her. there is no inoffensive, fading-into-background white for this absolute pillar of truth. or maybe something like a totem, quite protective in nature. and it's terrifying, 'cause you're immediately hit with the feeling that you're looking at something out of this realm, something you're not supposed to witness. the perspective is all wrong. is it downwards or upwards? why does it seem unstable when the pieces are so perfectly centered and seemingly well-balanced? child, you should calm down, it's not like you will destroy it with a stronger puff of air. will you?

this sculpture is called "tipping point — echoes of extinction", and it's actually a mix of technology and sculpture and sound, with elegant visualizations of the lost voices of birds and sea mammals. the author said it "was conceived in reverence to the astounding lives the species which envelop humans have lived and the mysterious ways they have contributed to our well-being. the shadows of their memory, whether a shape or a sound, have inspired this project." so the piece deals with death. moreover, it deals with murder. it records the harsh reality and makes sure the ones that suffered horribly at the hands of humans are, in a way, celebrated. but also— categorised. like epitaphs. the birdsong, once a living sign, is only visually represented by the lines of varying lenghts in 3D, and you can do nothing about it anymore, right, you can't bring back the dead, you can't help the innocent dying in any way other than— stacking them on top of each other and moving on.

---

so that's for now, i might someday write more if anyone's curious. :")

[1wingedtraveler]

Genshin boys with blood-loving! s/o

🌿A/N: This is very self-indulgend💀

🌿SMUT, MDNI

🌿Warnings: Blood play/drinking/lube, dom reader, bondage, wounds, knives, biting, no pronouns for the reader, consentual

Kazuha

was intrigued when you told him about this

he wondered what you liked about it

also

in what way (if you know what I mean)

as a poet you could say he was fan of blood too

but in a more symbolic meaning

he would find drinking each others blood VERY romantic

would love to have those necklace blood vials

Kazuha squirmed as you climbed on top of him, his fingers running through your hair. You grazed against his nipple before moving up to his delicate neck

You buried your face into his nape and breathed in his scent. A smell of maple syrup with a hint of cinnamon. You dragged your tounge on his smooth skin

The feeling of his hot pulse was addicting. It made you want more. You bit down

"Ah!" Kazuha let out a straddled moan. His naild started to dig into your back

You soothed him with a gentle lick before burrowing your teeth futher in his skin. This time hard enough to make his blood drip into your your mouth

"Mhm, you're so delicious Kazuha~ Give me more"

Cyno

hmm, he doesn't really know how to react

in his profession, blood is very regular thing

so he never thought of it in a romantic or sexual way

you have to introduce him slowly to it so he gets the appeal has high pain tolerance so you probably won't hurt him easily

You watched as Cyno gritted his teeth, blood from his slashed palm was filling up small shot glass. His face held slight grimace of pain. He felt something weird stir inside of him . You were going drink his blood...

The look on your face, full of hunger and lust. It made his cock hard, creating a visbile inprint in his pants. The stinging in his palm just fanned the flames of his arousal

"You filled it to the brim, Cyno! You're such a good boy"

You said cheerfully, grabbing the glass from the table. You brought it slightly over your lips, making the blood pour into your mouth, spilling down your chin. Few drops falling on your chest.

Cyno watched you with widened eyes, he bit his lip while he gripped his shorts tightly. His cock was twitching in his pants

"Ahhh~You're better than the finest of wines"

Albedo

also likes blood but in more scientific way

very happy if you give him a blood sample

he can study you and other humans that way

he can't exactly go around asking for blood samples from random people since he's not a doctor

can't use his own blood since he's not human

his blood is pinkish-purple in color

he's careful not to get hurt around people. He doesn't want any unwanted attention

You ran a scalpel down Albedo's stomach, staring from the ribcage, pressing it down slightly harder near the bellybutton and stopping near the pubic area.

You pulled back to enjoy a beautifull sight before you. Albedo was handcuffed to the hospital bed, his eyes wrapped by a blindfold, a red ballgag was resting in his mouth.

He was breathing heavily, his chest moving quickly up and down. Mesmerizing magenta blood was starting to pour from the wound, dripping down his stomach and between his legs, painting his blonde pubic hair

Fun was just about to begin

Scaramouche

another non-human

his blood colour was originally purple

but since the trying to become a god incident and getting an anemo vision

it changed to teal

his blood must have absorbed some of the elemental energy

at least thats his guess

when this change accured he got really intrested

probably one of the most willing to explore blood kink

Scaramouche buried his face into his favorite pink plushie, trying to hold back his tears and moans while holding his ass in the air. You were currently behind him with a small but sharp knife. A muffled shriek of pain escaped the man as you swiftly make another shallow cut on his asscheek

His ass was covered in them. Teal blood dripped down his balls and tiny hard cock

"I think that will be enough"

you said as you licked the blood off the knife. It tasted refreshing with slightly minty taste. You started to cover your fingers in it before pushing them into his tight asshole

"AH-AGHH" Scara wailed, tears streaming down his cheeks

"Shhh, there there~ its okay baby. You've done so well, it will start to feel good soon"

[frozensoba]

hi just wanted to say that your art is amazing! scrolling through your blog and seeing some of the most gorgeous pieces I’ve ever seen in my life…WOW. I’m in awe of your vision and expression and the way you use color and form and texture to build such full and rich scenes!!! Thanks so much for sharing! I find it super inspiring and will probably proceed to study your art under a microscope so I can learn from you haha. I got so excited when I saw that you’d put your totk pieces on inprint! will be a life changer to have this stunning art on my walls

HI omg thank you so much for the kind words!!!!!! 😭😭😭 totk is such a beautiful game and im glad the tributes i drew for it are loved by other fellow fans :""") (if you ever feel the need to shoot any art questions feel free to DM me, always happy to share my brainworms!!)

[adepressedartist]

NSFW

Fuck. So you're asking what the dirtiest thing i ever thought about doing to you was, or rather is?

Sweety, it's morally so f' up that there's no way I could post it..

But, a less vile fantasy was, to actually k!dn4p you or hunt you.

I want to go on a cute date with you in the forest, picnic on a clearing covered with moss and rich, green grass amidst the dark forest. Eat with you food I prepared carefully with love and care, until I'd command you to change your clothes to something more.. Practical for whats about to go down. At this point it would probably already be dark, and with no street lanterns around and the moon being covered in clouds, your hand just barely visible for yourself holding it in front of you. I'd make you wear a skirt for very easy access, and a collar that's adorned with multiple bells. I'd give you a one minute heads start; if you'd trip and fall that'd be your issue in that moment. After a minute I'd start following the sounds of your bells, running after you, like a wolf hunts a deer in the dead of night, not stopping until I'd hear your shaky breath, and taking you then and there in the dark after catching you and forcing myself into your needy hole, just pushing you onto the cold, moss and tree roots covered floor, not stopping until I've bred you multiple times and made sure nothing could leak out, after all, my cum must be savored and kept safe inside of you, doesn't it, my charming little pet?

I imagined how I'd stalk you, hiding in the bushes while you're on your way home from work to knock you out and intoxicate you while being fully masked and not recognizable to you, or actually slip something in your drink at the club. Then taking you to a place you don't know just yet, and tie you up in a way you're a 100% unable to flee my touch and loving gaze. And then have my ways with you for hours; unable to resist, probably tripping and wasted way too much from what I forced you to take. I'd play with you for hours without even putting a single thing inside your beautiful holes that were just made perfectly for me :( I want you dripping wet, staining the cold stone floor with a big puddle.

After hours and hours of torment, teasing, admiring and touching your body, I'd give you another dose to intoxicate you again with a substance, that will make you feel each touch so intensely that it's unbelievable, perhaps even unbearable caused by the pleasure, leaving you hungry for that same, intoxicated, rough and loving touch for the rest of your life. I'd fuck you hard with the strap on, manhandling you and placing you in just the position that I need and want you to be in, slowly stretching you hole out more and more until I deem you to be ready to take me, and entering digits in after and after. But through all this, there would be a camera recording the things I'd do to you for hours so I can rewatch it over and over again, not being able to get enough from your pathetic cries and begs, and you're beautiful moans that leave your lips while I touch your handsome, breakable body. I'd stretch you out, molding your holes perfectly to my hand. Maybe I'd just stay inside you like this for a long while; making sure to leave proper inprints of my hand in your insides. Caressing and embracing your body while chuckling, no, perhaps even laughing at your pathetic begs to move my hand inside of you, showering you in soft praises and cooeing at your pitiful tries to get your bonds removed and be free, not being able to take any more if you're not cumming now after hours of torment, before I'd start demolishing your ravishing body, showering you in unbearable pleasure, making you wish you would've never asked for this because it'd just not stop for hours until I'd had you come undone on my hand multiple times. Going for a smoke, leaving you there, completely overwhelmed but eerily satisfied. I just want to keep you all for myself, away from everybody else, to use you as my personal flashlight. Those deafeningly sweet moans are only meant to be heard by me, and me only. The only reason you'd be allowed to walk anywhere would be to use the bathroom and that's it. I want you all for myself. Treating you like my king, no, as something holy even and my worthless pretty whore at the same time.

[cobaltbeam]

Hey! I absolutely love your work and was looking through your print shop, but noticed some stuff I wanted that was not there. Specifically the pictures of flower crown fox and young hound and grizzer, but those are both kinda recently made if I’m remembering correctly. So I guess I’m asking what’s your policy/process with adding art to your print shop?? Sry if this gets asked a lot and there is an answer that I didn’t see, I probably won’t be buying for a while anyway, as I just bought the clone zine and merch, but I just want to know what amazing art work of yours I’m able to to buy (seriously it’s amazing I’m in love ❤️❤️✨❤️🥳🥳✨💯✨❤️)

Aaaaaa thank you so much for the compliments!!!!! And sorry about the wait, I'm really bad at remembering to upload things there hehe but yes of course you can always ask if you don't see a specific one you want!

I just uploaded the flowercrown fox and Hound with grizzer (and the angsty fox piece) in my inprint, here is a link!

[x]

[sellina-skyfall]

Dream SMP - We don´t talk about it

Summary: It’s no secret that Tommy believes he’s the greatess person to exist, the ego on that child is bigger then everyone elses in the Dream smp combined. Even thou he can handle his own pretty well in battle, maybe he should think twice before picking fights with gods.

In other words, problem child tries to fight the literal goddess of chaos to try and prove to everyone else that he is strong.

Warning: This work is a work of fiction and in no way should be taken as gospel.This was done with entertainment proposes, and involves the Dream smp characters, and the characters only. It is not my intention to make anyone uncomfortable, or cross any bonderies.

This work contains, a fighting scene, mentions of child abandonment, bad parenting and some violence.

I apologize if there are any mistakes, or if there are some sentences that don’t make much sense. English is not my first language.

This can be read as an Xreader, or as an Xcharacter!

                                           ------------------------------

-I am not a kid!-

-Yes you are Tommy, I'm not teaching you how to murder someone just because you think you're a grown up-

-You're just afraid I'll beat you in a battle!-

I couldn't lie, it was hard not to listen to Techno's and Tommy's querrels. As loud and as annoying as they could get, the two always managed to light up everyones mood. Accuratly, this didn't always work, but for the most part, their little arguments were light hearted and fun. A change of scenery for the usually calm and honestly, quite boring winter empire.

-Ten minutes max until they are at eachothers throats-

The hushed comment made me snicker slightly, a small smile breaking out as I carefully adjusted the tea cup on my hands, making sure to not spill it over the beautifully decored table me and Philza were sitting by. The winged man gave me a knowing look, smile crooking slightly as he gestured back to the fighting pair with a simple nod of his head. My eyes immediatly snapped over, teeth suddently digging into my lips as I held back a laugh. Philza was more then right, those two would be at eachother sooner rather then later. Not that we were too worried, if anything escaled we would simply step in.

Like we always did.

The bird-hybrid more then me, I simply did not have the mental strenght to argue with both Tommy and Techno, they were already hot-headed when alone.

Oh but when they were toguether?

A living time-bomb that could go off over the smallest and dumbest things.

-It really does run in the family, uh Phil?-

It wasn't really a question, if anything, it was more of a little jab to the mans raising methodes. Not that I could really talk, it had been centurys since I had last held a baby, even longer since I had to take care of one. If I had been in Philzas place I would probably have been a worst parent then he ever was.

In response to my teasing, the bird-hybrid simply rolled his eyes, smile softening as he leaned somewhat closer to me. Immediatly catching onto his antics, I decided to play along, quietly suffling forward in my chair before bringging up the cup of tea up to my lips, the smile I had only widening as the childish behavior.

-Mighty words coming from someone who abandoned their child-

-I did no such thing, do you really believe I would be able to abandone a baby? Scar was a follower of mine-

-A very dedicate one if I might add-

Phil's sentence was abruptly interruted by Tommy's voice, the teenager had somehow approached us without any of us noticing. His hands slamed down onto the table, the impact making the glasses and plates shake slightly. It didn't take five seconds before the hybrid was scolding his youngest soon, eyes Sharp as he told Tommy to apolegize.

The teen, however had other plans. His Bright blue eyes were focused on me as his smile praticly occupied half of his face. His next words had be chocking on the tea I had been drinking.

-Well! If Techno won't teach me how to fight then Sellina will! Right!?-

I looked over to Philza in disbelief, eyes widened at the bluntness his child possessed. Tommy really had no manners in conversation, especially when it came to woman. The blond man simply stared back at me, his expression mirrowing mine as his mouth opened and closed several times. We were both at a lost for words. The silence that took over was quite unconfortable, and the intense stare Tommy kept giving me did nothing to make me feel better about the hole situation.

After breathing in slowly I found myself forcing a smile at the teen, hands coming down to rest the partly now spilled tea on the table.

-I don't think that's a good idea Tommy-

-What, you think I can't handle my own?! I'll have you known I'm the strongest in this house hole!-

Techno's snicker was loud enough to catch our attention, so much so that Tommy turned over in his direction to curse him out. Talk about na big ego.

Really, where were this childs manners...

-C'mon Sellina! I'm sure I can beat you in a fight!-

-I don't think so T, but the intention is what counts..-

-Well! If you are so sure of yourself why won't you fight me? At least teach me some cool moves so I can use them agaisnt Techno!-

-You'd have to have blue blood for that buddy. Maybe when you're older Tommy-

The frustation was evidente in Tommys face, his cheeks had redden up and his mouth had dropped into a frown. Without another word the teenager simply stormed off, bangging the door loudly behind him.

I couldn't help but feel slightly bad, a tired sigh escaping me as my shoulders dropped slightly at the teens mood swing.

Humans were way too emotional.

But in the end, there was nothing I could really do, teaching Tommy how to fight was out of the question, and fighting him was na even worst idea. I was not about to train a sixteen year old kid to be a soldier.

My train of thoughts was broken by Philza, who at this point had gotten up and was grabbing the dishes up from the table to put them in the kitchen's sink. Before he did so thou, he gave my shoulder a tight squeeze, eyes soft and understanding. The smile on lips lips was small, but welcoming all the same.

I found myself smilling back with ease.

                                            --------------------------

-Are you sure you don't need me to accompain you home Sellina?-

-With all the due respect dadza, I can take care of myself. You should be more worried for Techno, he seems...-

-I know. The fight with tommy lefy him in a sower mood. He'll be back to normal before you know it-

-If you say so... Alright, take care then. Give the boys kisses for me!-

Quietness.

That's the only real way I could describe the winter florest, apart from breathtaking and beautifull view. Honestly, the scenery looked like it had been straight out ripped from an old fairytail book, the kind of book kids swore held magic.

And maybe, they did.

The snowed covered trees almost touched eachother a the top, the casted shadows creating this welcoming sense of protection. Their frozen leafs shook slightly in the welcoming breeze of the night, even the animals seemed to have gone silent. I found myself slowly coming to a stop in the middle of it all, eyes locked onto the brightly illuminated moon. It had been hard to spot her, after all the threes were rather large, but the sight that welcomed me had made it all worth it.

Nights like this were what made me remember why I was so found of earth. So found of these people that slowly destryed everything they touched. So found of their interactions and relations.

It was never this peacefull and serene out there.

My shoulders relaxed quite quickly, and before I knew it I was calmly enjoying the presence of the cold winter spirt. The wind had started to pick up, but it didn't bother me in the slightless, in reality it made me smile harder.

The small moment of bliss was cut short by the sounds of foot steps fastly approching. For a moment I thought it might have been Techno or maybe even Philza but none of them had any reason to follow me into the florest. I forced myself to stay quiet, holding my breath in as a way to hear the steps better.

They had broken out onto a full blown sprint.

My reaction was pretty much immediate, right hand coming down fast to to summoning my battle axe. I turned on my feet as fast as I could, cape flowing behind me as my eyes fell on the tip of the sword that had barelly missed my face. Instinctively my arm came up, axe in hand as I swung it down with so much force that it sliced right through the dimond sword that once had been held up to me. A squeek left my attackers mouth, but before he could do anything I brought my left leg up, swiftly quicking his leg before swingging once again. The blade barelly missed his face as he fell to the ground with a muffled "thud", the snow aiding in his fall. His breathing was much faster then it should have been, teary blue eyes widened in shock and in terror as he stared up at me like I was some kind of monster. The gripo n my axe flaterred as soon as I recognized who was on the other side of my blade.

-Tommy?-

His name came out in a whisper, arms shaking as I realized how close I had just been to hurting the small teenager. The axe slipped past my fingers and onto the snow as I stared down at Tommy, the frightened look he had inprinting itself into my memory.

Calls of both our names echoed through out the florest, not that I could hear them clearly, everything had started to turn into white noise. That is until Techno stepped into view, rough hands carefully grasping at my face as he tried to gain my attention back. Still, my eyes stayed focussed on Tommy, even when Philza started scolding himw hile checking over for injuries.

-I could have killed him-

-Hey. Hey, c'mon it's it's not your fault. Tommy shouldn't have sneaked up on you-

-Oh my god I could have killed him. Techno I could have killed him-

-It's fine. It's going to be fine-

I don't remember exacly how that night ended, nor' how the next day started.

One thing had been certain thou, Tommy made sure to never ask me to fight him again.

[collectoroflovelythings]

✨💕🏳️‍🌈 & the owl house for the hyperfixation asks!

Thank you babe, you get me

✨ What draws you toward your hyperfixation

Okay, so where do I begin. It’s just all around such a great show. It’s very tightly written show with really good pacing (lumity happened at just the right time, I will die on this hill) It’s beautifully animated, with such good character design and worldbuilding. I love a fantasy world that’s really grimy and off-putting but still really fantastical, it’s like dark whimsy it’s so cool. All the characters are so well written, with great dynamics, the found family theme is so touching and perfectly written, seriously the dynamic between Eda, Luz, & King is perfect. It’s a lot of representation that’s good representation that because the writing is so good. It handles so many mature themes for a kids show yet is also really funny and brings me so much joy and comfort

💕tell us about your favorite characters and why you like them

Oh boy, here we go

Luz: perfect baby bisexual, love my black Latina baby, best girl, perfect protect at all costs. She’s like the perfect weird girl, like she’s in no way a cleaned up or Hollywood-ified weird girl, I see her and go: yes that is exactly what an awkward teen girl is like. I see so much of myself in her especially my younger self, I would have inprinted on her so hard if I watched this show when I was younger, and now that I’m older it’s just like “protect, protect at all costs” She’s really perfect as a protagonist, she’s an outsider in a new world so you can learn about the world through her but that also helps with her character development and her growing as a person. She’s really balanced as a character, her neurodivergence isn’t demonized and is part of why she’s so great but also sometime her behavior is destructive or harmful and she has to learn from it, she goes so far to help those she loves but sometimes she oversteps and ends up messing things up and takes to much responsibility on herself, she’s kind but also is really sassy and not above manipulating situations to her advantage, she’s merciful but also has boundaries and isn’t afraid to cut a bitch if she needs to. She’s insecure and fears rejection but also is a ray of sunshine in everyone’s life. She’s delightful, love my baby

Eda: harpy mama, the milf, mean femme rights, tacky femme rights, trashy femme rights, MY MOM. I love her so, I love having an older queer chronically ill coded protagonist, I love having a character like that be a mom. I admire her so much and she’s kind of everything I strive to be when I’m older. She’s so sassy and funny and eccentric and marvelous. I love how she acts as a mom, how’s she sassy and talks back and wants her kids to talk back to her, but she’s still really soft and caring and incredibly protective and would do anything for them. She’s so strong, she’s been through so much. She’s been misunderstood and shunned since she was a child, been dealing with a curse that made her hate herself for most of her life, had to fight off her family’s attempts to cure her, lost the love of her life because she couldn’t accept help. She has such low self worth and blames herself for things that really aren’t her fault, and in a lot of ways doesn’t think she’s worthy of help, but she’s growing so much and still cares so much about those she loves, and cares for those who are rejected and abandoned as well. She gives me happy feelings.

I wanna do more but this is really long so I’ll stop here for now.

🏳️‍🌈do you have any head cannons (lgbt, race, neuro, etc)

Surprising not a lot. I really like non-binary she/they luz and kinda like the idea of trans-femme Eda. This isn’t really a head canon but my interpretation of Stan/Eda being divorced is that while Stan never got over her, Eda has mostly forgotten this ever happened (side note: Eda’s stages of grief definitely included a horny stage, and since I probably won’t find a another time to mention it I don’t think Eda nor Raine were chaste in the years after them breaking, nor should they have been, I’m against the idea that you’re only allowed to be with/in love with more than one person, they were apart for twenty god-damn years) oh and this is just softly cute to me: Raine and Eda aren’t really big on pda, not because they’re ashamed they’re just private like that, so they only hold hands when they’re around people they really trust and also they sneak in kisses when they think no one is looking, so is kind of a big deal if someone like Luz happens to see them kids. I’m torn between Blondie being gay or bi, doesn’t really matter either way. Nothing else comes to mind right now, except really small things like that I think Lilith picked up a lot of small hobbies throughout her life like calligraphy and origami and that Amity can’t cook to save her life (that’s actually sort of implied)

(From this ask)

[labyrinthsewer]

observations from a cosplayer

so i’ve cosplayed pennywise a few times and it’s given me some insight/ideas with regards to the outfit that i wanted to share

very easy for the top of the ear to be tickled by the wig/hair

if you kiss someone it leaves big kiss marks plus a nose impression... if you make out it’ll be a mess lmao

very soft to hug!!! everyone gets a nice surprise when they hug me :)

gives a really swishy walk with all the frills. unavoidable swagger walk lol.

(if elastic) the bloomers leave imprints on the upper thigh. for hours after taking them off i still feel the sensation of them. yes they’re very close to the crotch (for me anyway)

the first thing i always remove is the belt 👀

it’s easy to retract your face into the neck ruffle

the neck ruffle also blows up over face in the wind REALLY EASILY

trying to do something dexterous with the frilly sleeves is really hard

if i’m not careful it’s easy to hear me coming from the jingling

the little round things on the wrists and ankles came off of my costume super easily and like, dispersed random places w/o me noticing. spreading my clown germs.

balloons hit you in the face a lot if you don’t hold them high enough and are walking fast. i left nose inprints on some of mine... lol

the ribbed parts of the arms and legs are very satisfying to run your fingers up and down

through the layers of fluff it’s kind of hard to notice at first if someone touches my ass

my costume smelt like a weird mix of grapefruit and a sleeping-aid tea (chamomile/lavender/etc) from the tea-dye bath i gave it... no one thought it smelt bad tho HA

everything you do in the costume is x10 funnier & scarier. popping your own balloons will get a big jump.

can literally hide stuff in the poofy parts. like i could probably fit two balloons in my bloomers if the waist elastic opened more LOL. you could keep snacks in there.

you can slip your hand up to touch the stomach from underneath the peplum (flared part under the belt)...

if the bloomers aren’t attached to the pants you can slip your hand up the leg of them too 👀

if you sat on the lap of someone in costume (depending on both your heights) the pom poms meet around sternum, solar plexus, and belly <3

you... uh..... jingle when you go to use the bathroom... and everyone will know it’s you because of the balloons peeking out of the stall... u_u

okay im done mostly i just wanted to say it’s soft and warm and gives great hugs, wanted to confirm

some more personal anecdotal stuff under the cut that i just found fun & wanted to share

kids actually do quite like the costume

people REALLY FUCKING LOVE BALLOONS wow, everyone asks to take one!

it’s hard to use a phone through my gloves and my instinct is to press my screen with my nose when i’m in a pinch and let’s just say Don’t do that

buckteeth really make you lisp/slur/spit. plus i got lipstick on mine. they were so obtrusive i couldn’t really wear them ;_; (next time i get the chance i’ll try and make smaller ones)

you can static the balloons to people... lol

contacts exaggerate curvature of the eye, so they appear to bulge out when looking extreme up/down/left/right

gotta drink everything with straws! it’s cute ok!

we ordered pizza when i got home & i answered the door dead serious and made zero reference to the costume & the dude was like 8^(

HA anyway, now I’ve indulged in sharing all this I’m satisfied :o)

[hows-a-robin-like-a-writing-desk]

Camp Camp Batfam AU; T

so far I have at least, like, 3 ideas for Camp Camp AU’s cause I fell face first into the fandom, so here’s some ideas for one; AU-ccT.

-The one where Tim gets caught sneaking out to photograph Batman and Robin by his mother when he’s ten (or almost ten)

-he gets sent to Camp Campbell, a camp in Sleepy Peak NJ for the sake of this universe

-he’s on the bus with Neil and Nikki in episode 1, for photography camp.

-he’s never seen anywhere without his camera. Ever. 

rundown of the bare bones of most of his relationships in Camp Campbell under the cut, because It got long and most of you won’t care so I wouldn’t want to bother too much:

-He and Neil got along well on the ride over to camp; Tim nerds out with him about science. Neil finds the kid a little annoying at first, but the kid mellows out pretty quickly as they talk. He’ll seek Tim out for some actual intelligent conversation sometimes at camp. Sometimes, when he goes to ‘Science Camp’, there are Cursive notes in the comments of notes he left out, either comedic or cringy puns or actual helpful advice and suggestions. Also they’re both jewish, so there’s some solidarity there. 

-Sometimes, when Nikki is out on adventures by herself, He’ll appear in a tree and join her. They go hunting for cool things; Nikki will screw with them, and Tim will watch and take pictures and intervine if he thinks he has to. He’s saved her life a fair amount of times. He’ll spout random fun-facts about nature and entertain whatever weird conversation she wants to have. He’s cool enough when no one else is around, though kind of weird. He can climb trees better then her.

-Max doesn’t think of Tim much at all. Tim came on the bus with Neil and Nikki, but didn’t do much to make a lasting impression. He stayed close to Neil until Max started staging escape attempts, then he faded into the background. Max thinks he’s like a quieter, maybe smarter Dolph; an annoying naive kid who doesn’t know how fucked the world is. Sometimes he’ll try to screw with the kid. He’s stolen the Boy’s camera twice; both times the boy had it again within the hour, never even confronting Max. The third time he left a note politely asking him to stop. Despite Max’s best efforts, there isn’t a forth time, but on the 7th attempt a picture of Mr.Honeynuts was left on his bed in clear blackmail. Somethings up with that kid. Maybe he’ll give enough of a shit to figure out what someday.

-Tim isn’t really a good artist, but he and Dolph get along well enough he guesses. Dolph finds his photos inspiring, so Tim can trade in favours for cool pictures of one thing or another. Sometimes he’ll sit and watch Dolph do art silently, and no one talks to either of them. It’s great. Dolph tried talking to Tim at first, but Tim wouldn’t say much in response and would often leave quicker when Dolph talked a lot, so he tries to keep it down.

-Ered doesn’t care about Tim all that much, really. She has a spark of respect because he’s surprisingly ok at skateboarding, and he’ll fix up the half-pipe sometimes. every once in a while, the repairs even last longer then a day. Cool.

-Tim is skeptical of Harrison, and a little worried by his temper; he could actually be a meta and not really get it yet, and with his temper he could do some damage. Tim is more then familiar with the ‘keep your enemies closer’ mentality, and has a tentative friendship with the boy. He thinks he’s nice enough, but he’s certainly powerful. No one is allowed to touch Max’s camera, but Harrison especially. He tries to help Harrison figure out how to use and control his powers and Harrison appreciates it. Tim has never been the victim of a spell from Harrison.

-Nerris and Tim get along like a house on fucking fire. Tim is quiet, and usually just goes along with whatever campeign Nerris is running, but has a great time anyway. He always wanted to play D&D. They nerd out over Magic and Pokemon and LoTR etc. The only real fight they have is Star Wars Vs. Star Trek, and they get the whole camp involved somehow. She’s a very loud personality that he can’t handle being around all the time, but he appriciates their time together and all

-Tim is just one of those kids that are pegged as easily bulliable. Naturally, Nurf bullies him. Or, at least, he tries to. The kid has an annoying habit of slipping through his fingers and appearing in trees whenever Nerf tries to do any real damage. Tim hates Nurf. He seems so textbook Gotham it almost hurts, but Tim is probably one of the only people that understands why Nurf is the way he is, but is firm that it’s no excuse for his behavior. He ignores most verbal bullying, unless he deems it worth a quiet comeback that no one but Nerf hears that leave him baffled because that kid was supposed to be meek and probably neglected or something, not a snarky asshole. one of the few exceptions is when Nerf insults Tim’s mom, which results in a sudden uproarious laughter that is the loudest sound anyone at the camp has ever heard him make. It goes on long enough to worry David and creep most of the campers out. When asked what happens, he criptically answers ‘Gaylord said the first funny thing I’ve ever heard out of his damn mouth’, stunning the camp with the first curse they’ve heard the boy use, a rare insult from the boy, and Nurf especially from the use of his full name. What The Hell is with that kid?

-Preston will swear, until the day he dies, that Tim is a wonderful actor. Nobody beleives him. Nobody ever will. Once, Preston coerced him into preforming on stage, but he immediately faked an anxiety attack and was excused. When they’re alone, Tim is a brilliant actor. The time he tried to film it, the camera broke and Tim was there with a drawl of ‘I’m in Camera Camp why did you think that would work out for you’. Preston kind of hates him for it. Tim helps out backstage all the time though, and is the only one besides Dolph who stays to help after David’s demanded minimum clean up time. He’s recorded almost all of Preston’s shows, and Dolph, Preston, and Tim become an unexpected and unseen force to be reckoned with. Maybe. 

-Space Kid is a child and naive in a way Tim isn’t used to and doesn’t like. He’s kinda stupid and exceedingly nice, and Tim almost wants to provoke him. That would be counterproductive though, so he just ignores the kid for the most part. 

-David appriciates Tim. Tim is probably the only camper that really listens to him, never causes much of a ruckous, and even seems to enjoy camp! He’s a great example, if shy. David would like to say he payed attention to all of his campers equally but, at this camp, while he cared for them all, it couldn’t be ignored that Tim just...Didn’t need as much attention. He was self sufficent and surprisingly responsible, and David had to stop other kids from burning down the camp. He gave Tim extra desserts most of the time and asked for his input on this or that to keep Tm engaged, but has definetly not noticed Tim sneaking out of camp with a worrying frequency.

-Gwen doesn’t trust the little Gotham shit. He’s gotta be up to something. He’s too perfect, and she just feels that there’s something off about the kid. Tim confirms to her through purposefully cracks in the mask when its Just Gwen around once because he likes Gwen, or at least likes screwing with her. Now, if only Gwen could find it in her to care enough to expose this little shit, between homicidal campers and runaways and a platypus and- and Tim can wait a bit, ok? She’s a little busy.

-Tim is the only one who knows how to properly care for a platypus. Whenever he goes to feed it and such he drags Nikki along and lets her do most of the stuff so it inprints on her, because he does not want the creature following him around.

[h-587-2]

Part Six: The Blood Machine.

> I stare at the document. My hand slowly covers my mouth, and I set the document down. I place my hands on the table, and sigh. Okay.

> What do I know currently. What information have I been given.

You know that you worked in this hospital. You know that your name is Jackie Newmaker. You know that you had a wife and child. You know that there was an outbreak of an infectious disease, and that your wife has (had?) it.

> The burden of knowledge.

Your memories are fuzzy. A scene plays out for you like static on film. You tried to propose to her on the beach, but you dropped the ring in the sand and lost it. She laughed so hard she cried. It’s a good memory.

> I'm crying. My tears are falling onto the paper. I wish I remembered. I want to remember.

You don’t.

Some of the ink smears and the paper becomes translucent under your tears. You can see that there something written on the back.

> I wipe my eyes, and inhale slowly. I reach for the paper. I turn it over.

You turn the paper over. There’s a note written on the back. It says.

“Azathioprine - Temp Treatment (Limited) Restock soon.”

Azathioprine. You know what that is.

> I know what that is. But what is it.

It’s an Immune suppressing drug. It’s often used in cancer treatments to, well, suppress the immune system.

You remember learning about this in Med School. It’s not a very popular drug, as it’s applicable only to children and young adults. When used by those over 30 it aggravates the immune system, kicking it into overdrive.

> How old is my wife.

She’s 27.

> Do I know where it is?

The Azathioprine is stored in the Pharmacy.

> Where’s the pharmacy?

It’s on the other side of the Neonatal ICU.

> I scoop up all the documents. I put them neatly in my hands, knowing I might need them later. Is there anything else in here of note?

The set of uncracked vials you saw when you came in seem promising. 2 are empty, but one contains a what looks like a blood sample.

> I check the vials for identification information.

The identification and patient ID has been scratched off, but the blood type and test number remain. It says:

“A Positive - Post Mortem.”

> Are there any files indicating it's been tested? Where is the blood-testing machine, because if it's been tested, it might have a record of that data.

> You would think I know what a blood-testing machine is called. But I could barely remember my son and wife, let alone a blood-testing machine.

Luckily for you, god doesn’t know what a blood testing machine is called either.

The blood hasn’t been tested. Blood vials are immediately disposed of once tested, and this is in the queue tray. Considering this is a Post-Mortem sample, there was most likely a Pre-Mortem sample, which means if you were to somehow get power to the testing machine you might be able to test the blood and match it to the identity of the previous sample.

> Shit. Okay. Power is off. Do I know if there's a way to get it back on? A backup generator?

> I don’t think there’s such thing as a blood testing machine- I assume there are several individual manual tests run that involve adding indicators in order to test for values like hemoglobin count, iron levels, etc

Henry it is not your turn.

> This is a fantasy world Henry.

> The blood testing machine is canon.

Would you both please 

> BUT EVERYTHING ELSE HAS BEEN REAL?

> Blood drinking machine...

Player ID Henry, Player ID Neeley, and Player ID Miles have been temporarily muted.

Silence. Be patient and wait for your turns.

Jackie you know, because you are a nurse, that what you’ve been calling a “Blood Testing Machine” is DNA Testing Machine hooked up to the hospital patient and staff files, used to identify genetic markers for disease. The entire laboratory is filled with other, unrelated lab tech used for other tests. But you call it a blood testing machine, because you are a nurse, and not a hematologist.

Happy?

There are several backup generators placed strategically around the hospital for instances in which the power would go out. They’re supposed to kick on automatically, but there might be something stopping it from doing so. You’ll have to find the Laboratory Generator, as you’ve never had to go find it before.

> Okay COOL this is fine.

> I pull away. First, I'll look for the Azathioprine. Then, generator. And, hopefully, on the way, I'll find my wife.

> I start walking out of the lab.

As you start walking out of the lab, you hear the sound of glass shattering behind you.

> I grip the scalpel. I quickly turn around, and hold it up. What do I see?

The tray holding the two empty vials has been upturned, and the shattered remains of the vials glitter on the ground. There’s a footprint in the glass.

> I inspect the inprint.

It’s not yours. You aren’t wearing any shoes, and this imprint is pretty big, probably a running shoe of some kind. Men’s, most likely.

> Does it look like it was placed sloppily, like any sliding, or is it a clean step?

It’s a clean step, like the kind you see in forensic dramas.

You always found those kinds of shows rather silly and unrealistic. In real life, not all threads wrap up nicely.

> I look around again. I want to be sure. To be safe, because something's horribly wrong, and I can feel it.

You look around the lab. You can’t see anything amiss.

> But something made that noise. Something stepped there. I don't see anything, but I'm wary. I slowly put the documents in my inventory, then move to leave. I tighten my grip around the scalpel until my knuckles are white.

You added the Patient Documents to your Inventory.

As you exit the lab, the door slams shut behind you.

> I whip around, and brandish my weapon. "Show yourself." I have a thick Boston accent.

You have a thick Boston accent. Canada has yet to drill that out of you.

The window on the Laboratory door is sprayed with blood from the inside until a disgusting wet red. The air smells like iron.

> I approach the door. My hands are shaking. If I see nothing through the blood, I open the door, quite literally ready to slit the throat of whatever aggressor is in there.

The Laboratory is soaked in blood. The only part that has escaped the gruesome paint job is the DNA testing machine, which is perfectly untouched against the clean part of the wall. The wall and machine form the silhouette of a person.

> And there’s no one inside?

Nope. Just the blood and the silhouette. The silhouette is tall, taller than you, and one of the legs looks strange.

> My hands begin to shake. I quickly shut the door. I turn on my heel and head towards the Neonatal ICU as quickly as possible.

Your first few steps are slippery. You wish you were wearing shoes.

You barrel towards the Neonatal ICU, passing the hallway on your right from where you came. In fact, you’re going so quickly you almost miss the figure standing at the end of the hall.

> Good thing I only almost miss, because I try to stop. I throw a hand out and grip the railing. I wheel around, and face the figure.

> What do I see?

To be honest, you’re having a fucking terrible day Jackie. You don’t know what’s going on, you’re alone in the dark, and the blood is now drying onto the bottom of your bare feet.

But none of that matters now.

20 feet away, cloaked in the shadows of the corridor stands a figure in jeans, a black shirt, and socks. The breath is knocked out of you.

Thats your goddamn wife.

[ariesfmd]

                                                     hotel room                                   𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝒶𝑔𝓇𝒶𝓅𝒽 (2/???)                                               (WRD CT: 1,460 )

                                                        playlist; ♕

No one picks him again, and perhaps it’s because they know him so well. The flight from Thailand to Chile had been relatively smooth going with no chinks in the plan or unwarranted bumps, and management had only taken the film and image they needed before surprisingly leaving the boys alone. There were no gimmicks needed, like drawing straws or playing games, to pick roommates for the hotel. They were beyond that at this point and took things like reasonable adults—save for the occasional game of kai-bai-bo to settle loose ends. Other than that, everyone took to their rooms after landing and enduring the hour long car ride from the airport, close to the music bank venue, free to lick up the clandestine moments of private conversation and whispered phone calls done up with late night snacks in the luxury of their respective rooms. 

Areya’s room was as lonesome as always and the fans had taken it as his preference, as another sign of a spoiled youngest. There were no weeds or yellow buds of szechuan buttons surrounding the situation though, no wildflowers to make things all pretty and break everything down in gentle kitten licks; he was alone by choice, be it his own or the others’. Six years has it been? No matter the time, the arrangement hasn’t differed significantly, so there’s no point in trying to adjust it.

“I’m going to bed,” he calls into the others’ rooms after checking the lofts out, ignoring some of the hesitant stares or lingering fingers asking if he’s alright. He’s always been a figure standing above a dark-lined pool when it came to them—a thin barrier drawn in-between—shrouded by heavy lighting as his body bends the weight of a chipped diving board. It bounces and hovers beneath his toes and begs him to fall in, to take a breath and compress in loving words and enjoyment. Even if he fell in, he’d tread. He’d tread endlessly and ignore the filters’ vibration pulling at his ankles and asking him to stay just one minute beneath the shallow waters.

There’s no point in indulging in empty moments surrounded by people who equally don’t like him as much as he doesn’t like them. He’s a nihilist, he’s a narcissist, a pessimist, and all the other -ist like things that shroud a mystery or a cliche novel series antagonist, and leaves the pages of invitations to share chicken or noodles unlicked and left for later. Chilean food wouldn’t do his stomach any good anyway. He knows he’ll bloat and look like rubber on camera.

The shower in his pad is okay. Subpar at most, at least by his own standards, but he knows the white noise in his ears before traveling always prepares him for mediocrity. By means of pomp and circumstance, he equips himself with a small shower tote and slithers into the shower stall, listening to the drag of the crystal door banging shut behind him at its hinges. 

A dull thump sounds. Click.

It’s satisfying at most. Areya’s small green tote looks content perched on the long bench against the tiled walls, stocked up with high-quality shampoo and dark toner for his newly dyed mop of ginger, blond, or whatever it was. The black could only last but so long, he concludes as he slides on shower shoes and side-eyes the grime and faint lime deposit stains on the bottom of the shower. It’s a pretty thing gone to waste much like most hotel bathroom settings.

The perks of having his own bathroom is that he doesn’t have to investigate whose hairs are stuck in the drain or who was brushing their teeth in the shower, leaving foam and spit clinging to the bottom of the ‘upscale’ fixture with all the other chemical footprints. The others worry about that, he likes to imagine as he presses his long fingers in his mop of hair, pushing the digits through his long regimen of foams and creams to upkeep his visage. He knows what looks best on camera, what kind of shine blinds in all the right ways—goodness, the water’s biting a little hard, what’s the softness level in this area—and how soft or pillowy the whole thing should be to give fancams glory.

A deep conditioner is in order after such a dirty flight, he figures. The coughing of rich old men, the itchy fabric lining the reclinable seats, they were all more than enough to make Areya’s skin crawl. Borrowing Trevor’s spare headphones took more than a little coaxing, and it was all worth it, really, but the idea of his hair particles, perhaps, exchanging and mingling with his own was more than unsettling. He shampoos a second time and rinses before settling on the conditioner.

It’s in the fifteen minute intermission that he loses sight of things in a steady surface blur. He’s moved his tote and sat down instead, staring at his pruning fingers and watching pink give way to white as he clenches and unclenches against his palms. The lines on them, he’s had them read before by some fan at a meeting. She told him about the signs of distress she sensed, the hints of a bad life but a good future in the deep lines. He’d brushed it off with a laugh and stuck it under his seat along with all the scratches and gum, but with the popping of soap bubbles against his ears, he can’t help but thing back to such futile things. He had on a blue sweater that day, right? Charm’s, maybe. Oh. It’s Seoul Fashion Week now, probably. It’d be cool to go and see their show. 

His mental clock pulls his vision back together, in slow, matte frames but as  tight and crisp as always. He’s got good vision, 20/30 or something he’d been told, and it was enough for him to hum on his way out of the company physician’s. His attention to detail, other than his clockwork mentality, could be to owe for that. Alice’s white rabbit wasn’t always a fairytale.

Alice’s rabbit’s fur’s probably softer than the hotel towels. He finishes in the shower after his grueling skin care routine—done up with sea salt and all the charcoal works, smacking his face with lightning cream—and comes in touch with them, cringing but nevertheless stuffing his hair in one and pulling his black robe around his wet body. He sits on the edge of his bed, uncaring of the damp inprint his butt leaves behind, and swings his legs carelessly as he downs a bottle of strawberry milk—his signature—and hums ‘Touch It’ almost carelessly. He’d begged for a vocal part in the song, even just as backing tracks. It didn’t work out, as expected. More like he was dismissed all together and told to relax on any vocal dreams he’d been pondering lately. There was something about his recent obsession with new things that was unsettling the company. 

‘You’re sort of like a little kid, you know?’ he’d been reminded time and time again as his attention slipped onto new hobbies and weird pastimes. It never made a difference to him. His painting class was fun, his photography was taking off, and baking had resulted in those guys actually eating his food. The flour on his nose and yeast-y hands had been the butt of the longest lasting inside jokes he’d had with everyone��meaning more than two minutes.

Areya can’t help the smile on his face, right beneath his milk mustache, at the memories of smearing sugar onto Dax’s sweater and smacking Joonsoo’s shoulder with baking powder. The moment was worth the shits and giggles and even his chuckles now, his toes curling in the annoying Gucci slippers he’d put on with the black robe—those ones with the fur sticking out—that the others had begged him to get rid of. Perhaps he was wearing them to spite them, or merely out of the attention he got from it. 

“Hey, Reya? We’re going to bed, alright?”

It was inarguably the latter. 

He pretends he doesn’t hear anything and waits until a door shuts down the hall to get back to laughing. He’s unnoticing of the drops faintly tasting of rosewater and shampoo from his towel falling onto his bed and ruining any chance of his blankets drying to cradle him to sleep. He tries to think of futile things, like the steam from the bathroom, which he prays doesn’t sound the smoke alarm like last time.

He can only busy himself but for so long though.

After his laughs die out, and the room fills with the sounds of thumps from next door and the sound of night life outside, he realizes his room’s never felt this lonely before. 

[howardstudent]

In Conclusion

Writing, Literacy, and Discourse

8 December 2020

I had taken a gap year after high school, during which I had done barely anything related to writing or education. This semester I was registered for Writing, Literacy, and Discourse with Dr. Shaunte Montgomery. The course’s utilization of Visions and Cyphers was probably the most influential aspect of the course for me. I came into the course believing myself to be a decent writer, and I still consider myself to be such, but I have watched my perspective on writing and narrative voice shift dramatically. I already see the impact of the course on my reading and writing skills. 

Early on during my gap year, I attempted to get back into poetry. However, I failed to write anything of substance, which only intensified my fear that I would be unable to be successful once back in an educational setting. My writing style and perspective on what constitutes “good literature” has been molded upon a Eurocentric framework. Deviating from this framework would give me anxiety and convince me that I failed to produce quality writing. Through the study of Visions and Cyphers, I have been able to broaden what I consider to be appropriate use of written language. One of our earliest readings was of “Why College English” by Shirley Wilson Logan. In that essay, she argues for the decentering of the current Eurocentric lens so that college students may better “prepare for meaningful civic engagement” (Logan 63). That was frankly mind-blowing to me because I had never heard of that decentralization in academia, I had only prior heard it in discussions of verbal social acceptability. Throughout this class, I was challenged with questions such as: should english teachers consider a student’s background when evaluating their work, is writing a tool of liberation, should AAVE be just as accepted as other dialects in the context of writing, what is plagiarism, and how should it be handled. If I had been asked these same questions without the knowledge I had obtained from the course, I believe my answers would have been far less progressive than they are now. I went from internally devaluing Black English to declaring Black Twitter to be a valid form of critical writing because it “often explores discourse within the black community”(Havlin 1).

In attending an HBCU, this, a broadening perspective, is what I was hoping to gain. I know that my upbringing has fostered internalized antiblackness and, in choosing Howard, I was seeking the knowledge to dismantle it. I feel that this course has helped me achieve that. This class bolstered my confidence in my own writing and I see the shift when I compare my first and second essay. My narrative voice is significantly more assertive and I have gained better organizational skills. I have already carried over some of the skills I acquired in this course and applied them to my African American Literature class, and I have received very positive feedback from that professor. This course didn’t not change how I write, it improved upon and elevated what was already there.

Works Cited

Green, David F., editor. Visions and Cyphers: Explorations of Literacy, Discourse, and Black Writing Experiences. Inprint Editions, 2016.

Havlin, Katlyn. “The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly of Digital Activism” 19 Nov. 2020. ENGW 104-70, Howard University, student paper.

Logan, Shirley Wilson. “Why College English.” Visions and Cyphers: Explorations of Literacy, Discourse, and Black Writing Experiences, edited by David F. Green, Inprint Editions, 2016, pp. 47–51.