#(I'm not a fan of trying to have conversations with the void of the internet)

[henrysglock]

Okay. So. I said in my tags that I'd have more to say about all this, and mainly what I'm going to talk about is personal. Picture me writing this all out as fast as I can on my lunch break 😭

The past 8-ish months in this fandom have been a complete and utter hellscape. It's one thing to make niche theories and have them end up unpopular. It's another to have people quite literally send out libelous messages about you in hopes of a) convincing new fans that you're a bad person, and b) scaring new fans into that they're bad people if they interact with you.

And I mean...I knew Elliot and his friends were saying messed up stuff about me. I've known that since September of last year. I was trying to ignore it and not let it dictate my fandom experience. Because like what the hell, they’re pixels on a screen. It sucks, but it’s ultimately just the internet. Anyway. The false, exaggerated claims of rape apologism and pedophilia being presented as fact while having no proof behind them are nothing new. That's been going on for a long time, now, and I do have proof of that.

For example, the author of this anon:

Did fully come and apologize/explain that they were lied to on that very topic when the situation in September happened:

I did tell this person that I don't make a habit of posting DMs publicly because generally speaking I find it to be a breach of trust, but the situation has gone so far that I want to make that all public. I did, however, promise not to name them publicly. I won't tell you who said any of that, even if you ask.

But yeah, all that is nothing new.

What I didn't know until my conversations with @final-boy-creel is how invested this group was in making me out to be an awful person. I had no idea that anyone in that friend group was creating wholly falsified screenshots of me saying heinous transphobic things.

Final-boy-creel laid all that out, but I did want to a) post those faked images here for my own records, and b) expand on the situation in my own words.

First off...that's not my discord, nor is that Em's discord. Second off, like final-boy-creel said in his post: the fucked up time stamp at the bottom of the second image. (Among many other details that mark the pictures as fake, such as: changing text sizes, display names not being bolded, display names not being aligned with the time stamps, weirdly stretched profile pictures, the use of "tory" when I'm very open about being a USAmerican, numerous typos, and entirely altered typing styles (for example, I always edit my typos, I use the reply function all the time, and I'm a punctuation fan, including but not limited to: em dashes, semicolons, colons, and ellipses). Like...did whoever made these even try to make them believable??)

Second, as final-boy-creel said, I'm a neopronoun user myself. I had he/void in my bio for years, even back before I used tumblr and only had twitter. I mean, my neopronouns are even still in my discord notes:

And yes, I did remove them from public view to avoid any possible harassment from fans coming from sites like instagram, reddit, and tiktok, where neopronouns are a huge source of discourse and bullying.

So to say that *I* bully people for using neos? Absolutely insane.

Furthermore, I would never tell someone they "aren't trans enough" and that they're "making the community look bad". If you know me, then you've seen how much I post about queerness and letting people label themselves however they like forever. I'm a huge supporter of "weird" and "cringe" transness. Hell, I use the umbrella term queer for myself because I don't feel like a particular label fits me.

That upsets me more than anything else, because so much of who I am and the background I come from as a trans person centers around radical acceptance. I myself was told I wasn't trans enough when I was younger, and that shaped who I am today. Practicing radical acceptance was the only way to dig myself out of the "what if people think I'm not trans enough?" hole that was prventing me from actually living my life the way I want to.

So it really hurts me, that people think I'm some kind of transmedicalist fake-claiming scum! I'm not like that, I never have been, and it's really upsetting, knowing a decent amount of Henry fans (who all probably have me blocked by now, unfortunately, so it's not like I get a chance to explain anything) are going around thinking that's the kind of person I am. Making that kind of stuff up about me is just plain mean, especially when it's paired with telling people that I'm toxic and mean.

I can have my snippy moments when anons get a little too rude, but I like to think I'm not a mean person. And I guess I always assume that other people are the same way. Maybe that just makes me naïve.

But honestly, I just wanted to put out an apology to anyone who’s been intimidated by that group or made to feel like they’re in the goddamn panopticon here based on drama they weren’t even involved in, all under the guise of “warning” them about me. I’m so sorry that the shitstorm sucked you all into it, too. I’m so sorry your fandom experience has been made that stressful, and I’m sorry people are trying to control the opinions you form about others. It’s really, really disturbing—and really patronizing—behavior.

[charles-leclerizz]

Hello hello.

Tuning in for a "not-so-normal" post. because it's deeply necessary.

F1 has never beeen inclusive for women- and it's disgraceful.

For female fans- it's always assumed that we're in it for the hot men and not the machinery or talent. let me say this, it's okay if you're here from dts, for the hot drivers or something that isn't "legacy" it's okay, because exposure is exposure, and you're a real fan. And half the time, drivers aren't seen, only their eyes and their helmet's are, so that point is null and void because women who watch the races, aren't there for the covered up racers, theyr'e there to watch a sport that brings them joy, just like anyone else.

And it isn't harming anyone is it? watch the race, watch the thirst traps, watch the media posts. it's okay, calm down. just like insane male fan-boys, girls are allowed in this space.

Fans have always, and will always make up this industry, and trying to remove more than 40% of fans that are women. Is really just shooting yourself in the foot, isn't it? stay respectful, and you're welcome here. [stay respectful being a main point, if you're being a creep and being hateful, i don't think you should be here.]

For female workers in the entire F1 industry- The whole christian horner incident is despicable, it is one of the worst handled breaches of rights that i have ever seen. And i've been in a k-pop fandom. Trust that i know. The transparency is spotty, it's breeding chaos, its creating an unnsafe environment for all women. Chr*stian H*rnshit needs to fucking sit down, cause everytime he denies something, there is 500 tonnes of evidence against him. That isn't behaviour of a innocent man. That's behaviour of a mysoginist who's created a horrible environment.

The whole ssituation has blown up, for no reason, and now, the poor victim [it still hasn't been officially confirmed yet. but i believe he's guilty] has been cut off from her job. A real woman, with a real livelihood and a real life to support, has been blacked out and excluded from a main pillar in her life. it's not funny. it's damaging.

And mind you, if this was a man, in the paddock, a mechanic. hell just a male there wouldv'e been riots. pitchforks, fire, flare guns, strikes. Lord knows.

And finally, the drivers-

i.am.remourseful.

I am worried. I am scared.

It is worrying, frankly, how many drivers abstain from commenting, when they have some of the biggest platforms here and when they do, it's called "distracting"? That all they want to do, "is drive"?

I'm sorry, you don't just drive you are influential, you are role models, you are internet sensations and personalities.

Don't insulult the 38% of women in the workforce of your fucking job, and that statistic is just of management in the official formula one sector, totalled, it's more than half. So for men like, daniel ricciardo and valterri bottas to say such dismissive and hurtful things, it's really showing that we're going one step forward and 3 steps back.

And now- because of the blatant disregard, "blame game" playing and ignorance, that has occured. Every.single.woman who has been and will be involed with this sport is cautious, petrified and on gaurd for her livelihood; her job.

And if any man, or any person has any issue with what i have said. Please. you're invited to calmly state your reasons [which i might not answer or delete if they are stupid] and we can finally, fucking finally, have a singular, opoen conversation which has one goal in mind. The support and protection of women in formula one.

[sopeacecheesecake]

The original post I made, reblogging Lily, and got blocked :D

Lily, you are so sweet to think I would waste any time from my own day to write an ask/opinion to you in this length. Why bother when you will only used it to twist the non-existing, one sided "conversation" you enjoy having on you blog sooo much? Not everyone is so fucking dumb to scream into the void and wait for an answer, you know?

Since the wording is nearly the same, the biggest difference being the uppercase/lowercase regarding a few words (and the poor rewrite at the beginning) I have two theories about what could have happened:

1) You copy and pasted my original anonymous ask that I send to @confused-rat for an other blog of mine (and they posted on jan. 27) and only changed a few things (but were too lazy to properly rephrase it, a silly move Lils, as someone with a degree, you should know how to do that properly).

2) One of your fans send it to you (to ask what you think? to get a reaction from you? hell knows only) and you want to play around with your strawman again, claiming the original writer or the text send it to you.

Why didn't you include the whole text, Lils? The link is here, but to make it as easy as possible:

Now to have a look at what you are you supposedly "got":

To point out how similar this is to the original ask I send to Rat (exact parts italicized and coloured)

"So, as a semi-professional bed-sharer and a sibling (a twin, even)... Lily, it is fucking weird that you make a married woman share the bed with her sister-in-law, when I suppose (what'-her-name was living somewhere before they got married) it wouldn't be necessary if they were not so fucking codependent on each other."

Lils, you can do better than this! You claim to be a professional writer, yet you don't have the creativity to properly paraphrase/re-write something? Come on!

"I have a fiancé now, and I would never bring up the idea of me, him and my twin sister sharing our bed if it wasn't the end of the world, where is no free couch/futon left - it would just feel... icky, and hella strange."

I don't like random uppercase letters in sentences - I understand they are there to give emphasis, but you could have at least change "hella" to something else (and also properly rewrite the text, again.)

"Especially, since in her story, this bed-sharing doesn't seem like a temporary thing. I don't want to be gross, or be to "sex-focused" but, when you marry someone, don't you want to be alone with them? Not just for sex, but cuddling together while watching a move, or maybe just making out in the morning - there is no way that would be healthy for a newly wed couple to never be alone in their most intimate space."

Lils, get more creative with the rewriting! At least out it in ChatGPT and tell it to "write a similar text" or something, because you nearly took all of the original text, and lazily changed a few things (in a academic setting, this would be called plagiarism, hon. At least try to put as much effort in your rewrote self-asks as I drunk uni student does with their essay.)

And to address the wildly personal "jabs" about me: I will not. I'm a anonymous blog, Lils. A stranger to you. To claim I have incestuous thoughts about my own sister, over something I wrote to a different person about a writing of yours, is just wild. Again, I'm not stupid enough to scream in the void, thinking I can get something through that thick head of yours - I was chating with a different person about a story you voluntary put on the internet to be read and thought about. I never once claimed, it has to apply to my own taste. I send an anonymous ask to Rat about the bed-sharing depicted in your story (mentioning my own personal experience of the topic as well) and how odd I found the reasons behind it in the story.

I not once stated anything personal about you, yet your answer back to the half-baked and plagiarized text, is to insult me and claim I must be projecting and being a whiny cunt.

Why don't you argue against my real points, mentioned in the original ask, and stop with the name calling, Lils?

"I don't know why my silly little fluff stories bother you so much. I don't know why it gets so deep under your fucking sin. Furthermore, I don't care. Sort that out in therapy."

It did not bother me, Lils. I did never wrote a bashing anon ask to you about your writing - I like to think that I have spend enough time on the internet to know the basics of online story reading and the etiquette about it. I would never go up to a upcoming author and spit something like this in their face. I was talking to a different blog about a story. This is all what happened.

Have some green tea, stop fuckin plagiarizing, take a few deep breaths and "sort that out in therapy".

With love,

Anon.

[poopraven]

"I'm not good at social media" - A story by me.

While I'm sitting here ruminating on my life (as I am wont to do), my thoughts drifted to the story I have told myself for at least ten years but absolutely longer than that:

I am not good at social media.

And, you know, It's kind of true, in so many ways. But it turns out I was very wrong, in so many other ways. So I thought I'd spill those thoughts out onto the internet to maybe help you if you find it while thinking "God, I'm so bad at social media".

First thing's first: If you're good at social, you're probably also good at social media. Despite the clue being in the name, it took me far too long to realise this. Do you find it easy to communicate with other people, to start conversations with strangers? Great! You might also find it pretty easy to use social media!

But if you're not good at social, social media can be daunting, even isolating. You post things, nobody answers, you feel like you're yelling into the uncaring void. And, really, you kind of are.

You see, people are more likely to be social with people they have a connection to - whether you're friends, or attend the same venue / event, or share a hobby / interest, or are famous enough that fans want to speak to you - they're much more likely to interact if they've got that link. It's like a cheat code for hopping over that first hurdle.

But if you're a private person (and I spent ages being very private due to various pain points in my life), hopping that first hurdle is like trying to leap a chasm. You have that human urge to find some sort of camaraderie with other human beings (even if you're an introvert, even if you're neurodiverse, sooner or later loneliness really bites us in the arse), but whenever you try, you're holding all your cards close to your chest while hoping to get a peek at other people's.

That's just not going to work very often. I say very often because sometimes you'll bump into another lil tortle and slowly but surely peel cards away from your chest to show one-another and it could become an amazing friendship. Great!

I'll tell you what does work, though.

You're probably going to hate it.

I fucking loathed it.

The answer is to let extroverts do their thing.

You see, extroverts actually love introverts. They fucking ADORE us! Every extrovert out there loves to have a whole pack of introverts, because we are fun, and interesting, and we know the weirdest shit, and they love helping us come out of our shells and have fun in life.

But we can find extroverts a bit weird, right? A bit scary? A bit intense? They wanna peek at our hand of cards?

Spoiler: They wanna peek at our hand of cards because they've peeked at a lot of hands of cards, and they have a whole mental catalogue of who holds what cards, and they YEARN to put us in touch with other people who might share some of those cards.

Extroverts get joy from helping us make friends.

And all we have to do is let them.

So how does this make you "better" at "social media"?

Well, at its heart, social media is great for talking to people you know. Keeping in touch with acquaintances and friends. Making new ones? Yeah, you can do that, it's not impossible, but chatting with ones you already have? Yeah, that's where it really excels. Forget all that guff about going viral, or getting likes or views or followers. Really what it's good for is chatting to people you met, or share interests with, or are friends with.

And if you let an extrovert lift you over that first hurdle, you are suddenly flying.

I often feel like I have nothing to say, or that nobody would be interested in hearing it, or that I will 100% be misunderstood (yeah hello previously-undiagnosed autism)... And it's actually just not true. I'd just convinced myself that it was true because I'd been hurt, I was holding my cards too close to my chest, I wasn't neurotypical (hello also to previously-undiagnosed ADHD), I was any number of things that somehow made me less worth interacting with.

I still often think I have nothing to say, despite chatting to friends for hours about the things I have to say, and despite writing books that feature all the things I have to say. And I think often that ADHD makes me think I've already said a thing, who wants to hear it again, or rephrased, or in a different format?

So I let the extroverts who approach me peek at my cards. I allow them to do what comes naturally to them. And, wouldn't you know it, I get to talk to people on social media now. I've been introduced to fellow introverts who love the things I love. My extroverts take good care of me when I go to conventions. I am doing that thing which we all know is horribly hard: making new friends as an adult.

I think "I'm not good at social media" was both true and an artificial roadblock at the same time. It prevented me from accepting the help that was being freely and honestly offered, it held me back from reaching out and making meaningful connections, and it became a self-fulfilling prophecy.

If you're not good at social media, why not give "letting extroverts into your life" a go? Yes, scary! Yes, a lil bit invasive-feeling! But we do know the things we're good at, right? So we just need to take a breath, and let other people do the things they're good at, too. 'Cause 99% of the time, they really just want everyone to have a good time.

I love you all!

[goodpointsandbadpoints]

My takeaway of what this post is saying: Tumblr allows people to share fan thoughts with the fandom at large, while other features/platforms like dms and Discord decentralize these fan thoughts and reduces their reach.

I want to say that this observation raises a lot of interesting questions about how the Internet currently works, and how socializing online has changed in the last few years/decades! I do have three counterarguments though, to explore this idea. Picture me pulling out a whiteboard and talking out loud to myself.

Number one: The Root of the Issue

a decade ago people didn't have tumblr groups. people didn't even have dms. if you wanted to talk to anyone about anything you had to make a post, or send an ask (which more often than not would get published and thereby become a post in the end too)

The post points its bitter tone toward fans for choosing to use other channels of communication. But I noticed that this section kind of circles the infrastructure itself as the root issue behind the behavior change. The website changed (dms, groups) and people moved there. I think this is an important thing to remember when having "we used to __" conversations. What were the factors that led people to change their behavior? How can we talk about it without making it about character decline?

So, I'm not sure if the main issue is with Tumblr itself, or how social media is constructed these days, or with individual fans and the choices they're making. Maybe it's a mix of all three and just wants to scream into the void, which is understandable.

Number two: What Fans are Seeking

(*) so next time you think "I have a fandom thought but I have to find a small group of hyperspecifically like-minded people to share it with in private" remember all the freaks you could be missing out on meeting by keeping the tags dead.

Discord is a messaging platform that essentially functions as a huge group chat with the ability to divide conversation by topic. This allows people to have long back-and-forth conversations. This section (*) offers the Tumblr tagging system as a better alternative. However, from what I've seen, people currently find tag conversations extremely annoying because it fills the timeline with duplicate text. It's inefficient. It's hard to scan.

Many people like back-and-forth conversations! Especially when they're obsessed with something! And some platforms/features facilitate that better than others. It makes sense that people would pick up the more efficient tools for it.

(That being said, I agree that the "small groups of hyperspecifically like-minded people" definitely have their problems. But I think humans have always done this and will continue to do so. Discord and dms didn't cause it, they simply allow us to do it online.)

Number three: Evolution of Communication

now everyone fucks off to their discords or tumblr groups to discuss everything with a select few.

I like to think about how the evolution of technology changes our communication, especially long-distance. It kind of went like letters > telegraph > faster letters > radio > telephone > TV > internet (a gross simplification, but hopefully it illustrates what I'm trying to say). Each one is more efficient than the last, and society changes because of it. I agree that we sacrifice things with each change (e.g. fewer opportunities to practice patience and boredom, since we get info and entertainment so fast)! I could hypothetically say something like "Well, fifty years ago, people couldn't even have fandom online. They had to meet people in person! Now they just fuck off to their blogs instead of finding freaks in their communities."

(And if the counterargument to that is "But Tumblr has allowed people to make wonderful connections they wouldn't have made otherwise," then a counter-counterargument is "Maybe people feel like they're making even closer connections on Discord." Idk!)

Ultimately, people are trying to connect to one another.

Conclusion

The post has some "Kids these days" energy, and I get that. It's frustrating and honestly terrifying to see things change (esp things we love and enjoy, and things we feel worked better!). Things evolve outside of our control, and maybe it is getting worse, or better, or some other measure of value. But I think it could be helpful to meet that with some questions and curiosity.

I think a lot of people are forgetting that on tumblr fandom used to be practiced very differently. now everyone fucks off to their discords or tumblr groups to discuss everything with a select few, making tags be nearly only used for posting some finished fanworks or not at all

a decade ago people didn't have tumblr groups. people didn't even have dms. if you wanted to talk to anyone about anything you had to make a post, or send an ask (which more often than not would get published and thereby become a post in the end too)

so next time you think "I have a fandom thought but I have to find a small group of hyperspecifically like-minded people to share it with in private" remember all the freaks you could be missing out on meeting by keeping the tags dead. use tags, make friends. fuck discord.

[sy-tech]

Thoughts on a Megaphone 2.5

I think there's something important I need to scream into the void we call the internet before I fall asleep tonight. And, you'll have to bear with me here, as this post is being typed up at 1 AM on New Years, post-celebration excitement, but as I'm winding down sitting in front of my alter taking inventory of all the years I've live and every experience that comes with; I realized just how much I missed creating.

See when I was younger, as I'd assume 99% of those reading can relate to, I was one of those cringe ass middle school kids. Writing fan-fiction in this sparkly blue journal (Decorated with FNAF stickers) and typing it into my phone's keyboard letter by letter to post it on something like wattpad or amino. (Yes, yes, both of those platforms have a LAUNDRY list of issues and you probably scoffed but that's not the point I'm making here.) I made new pieces of fan-art about once every week it seemed. Hell, I even had friends both in and outside of fandom spaces that I would pass that damn notebook too. Asking for literally feedback I could get from them.

I remember at the time being so incredibly nervous to show my work. Showing art, making opinions publicly known, or even just having a dialogue with someone over something is hard after all. I still always managed to ultimately be happy about it. Which is very much not the case today. I don't know if it's the fandoms I've fallen into, or myself just becoming more and more reclusive as the years tick by. Maybe it's even just fundamentally changes in how the internet engages with fandom culture. Quite frankly the version of myself writing this just isn't smart enough to tell you an answer.

However, what I can tell you is that somewhere between then and now I got it in my brain that it was safer to never interact publicly (past reblogs, likes, and conversations with trusted friends) with the media I enjoy. I stopped making fanart (Referring to both writing & drawn art here). Not because I didn't want to or didn't have any ideas. Trust me the PILES of private projects I have piled up in storage or on my google drive can attest that the urge to interact never disappeared. I just never put it out there.

I, somehow, convinced myself that I couldn't formulate any valid interpretations of the media I grew to love. That I, no matter what, couldn't be "right". Which is... fucking demoralizing and absolute untrue to think. Due to this internalized belief, I stopped making art. I stopped interacting with media.

I instead took stacks of handwritten notes of every detail I could. Organized them in table on google docs for quick reference. Trying to rationalize to myself AND others why I thought the way I did. Saw what I did. Believed what I did.

I genuinely believed that my way of thinking was flawed and wrong. That I had to dissect what I loved to think "right" about it. There was no room for disagreements. I did't want to be wrong or embarrassed. I just HAD to see what other people saw. Had to agree with what they had to say. If I didn't there was something "wrong" with me, or there was something wrong with them. There could be no middle ground, compromise, or agreeing to disagree. It was a question of moral character. Of my own intellect.

I, effectively, became my own worst bully and due to that I lost most of my energy or motivation to bring the art I loved so much to life. I lost my joy in community. I lost my ability to talk, and with it the happiness it all once brought to me.

Ultimately, I began to value the appearance of never having a wrong thought that I just- stopped doing the things that made me happiest. Not only was I taking every criticism of the media I liked personally, but I was also taking criticism of my own thinking so personally I just quit sharing at all. Which just isn't how you grow as a person. It isn't how you have fun with stories. It's how you end up in a years long burnout like I have. It's how you stop enjoying media and just mindlessly consume it. It loses any personal meaning the second you believe yourself inadequate to not only form connections/interpretations but also to speak about them. The mistakes and discussions are a part of learning. Of growing and building.

I'm not going to end this off as a cheesy, "My New Years Resolution..." I don't even like the concept of New Years Resolutions as it just an easy way to set yourself up for disappointment (At least if you take it seriously). Rome wasn't built in a night and no one changes or recovers in a night either. Hell, part of why these words you are reading right now were typed up is part of that effort of getting used to doing this sort of thing again. The other part of typing this up is that maybe by doing this someone else who relates can get out of this horrible paranoid rut as well. At least begin too.

Long rambling post cut short; Don't let yourself get in the way of creating. Be kind to yourself, be patient with others, and above all just do what makes YOU happy.

Happy FUCKING New Years y'all!

I swear if someone puts this on r/im13andthisisdeep

[autobot-scout-riella]

I really want to like your interactions and follow but they feel a bit too reliant on angst and really fleeting moments of happiness that seem to exist only to make the sad even more sad. Even the ship you have going with Blackout seems like they cling a bit too tightly to them and only smile when they are around. Again I really want to like Riella but it just feels pointless to attempt an interaction when she shoots down any potential for a meaningful thread with her distrust. :(

(So, I’ve been looking at this for about forty minutes now and I’m honestly not even sure how to answer, anon, because everything you point out is...pretty much done on purpose? I mean, I’m sorry you feel like there’s no point in approaching, and if you’d like to discuss some less-prickly plot options or something off anon I’d be happy to talk to you about it, but you’re objecting to some pretty fundamental elements of my muse, my characterization, and my writing, and the answer might be that this just isn’t the blog for you. Also, since you’re anonymous, it just feels pointless to attempt a discussion when the lack of a name shoots down any potential for a meaningful conversation.)

(I’m going to try anyway, because if there’s one thing I’m bad at it’s shutting up.)

(Frankly, this about the fluffiest my blog has ever been--there’s a more-or-less healthy ship in progress, Riella’s starting hesitantly and awkwardly toward some positive character development, and just about every drabble I’ve posted recently has had a reasonably happy (or at least, not outright angsty) ending. Riella’s a deeply traumatized war veteran with some seriously dark history, trying to survive in a world she’s not really equipped for with a support system she’s only just now rebuilding; happy fluffy stories would be OOC for her and for her world. Also, I like angst and I’m good at it. I completely understand if that’s not your cup of tea--this is escapism for all of us, and it’s your right to avoid things you’re uncomfortable with or just don’t like--but I don’t appreciate what feels like guilting me for the story I’ve chosen to tell and the way I’ve chosen to tell it. Especially when done anonymously, this reads more like an attempt at guilt-trolling me into writing what you want, and I don’t like it at all. If this, the happiest my blog has been in quite a while, is too angsty for you, then you probably don’t want to stick around for the upcoming backstory drabbles I’m hoping to write once I’m not sick and swamped with homework.)

(As for the clinginess and distrust, yes she is, and that is the point. It’s the first thing in my rules, described on the about page, and expounded on at length in this post here. Abandonment issues and paranoia are pretty well-established elements of her character. They’re supposed to be there. Again, I understand if those are flaws you don’t want to deal with, and to a certain extent I can probably accommodate that with some OOC plotting beforehand, but they were intentionally written into the character. It was on purpose. They’re not particularly glamorous flaws to have, admittedly, but not everyone can have pretty, easily worked-through issues. Sometimes people are messy and relationships are messy and trauma has lasting effects, and as a writer, I want to explore that. It’s okay if you don’t want to, but it’s not okay to tell me I can’t.)

[gffa]

i love you for all you do for the jedi discourse

I've been thinking about this lately, the fraught tension of the discourse around the Jedi, how contentious it can sometimes get, how I know I'm not always the most patient I could be, and sometimes I regret that. But other times I don't. Because there are times I feel like I'm screaming into the void about how, every single day, there is some new bad faith response on one of my posts, some new unsettlingly "hyper invested in a stranger on the internet's opinions about made up space wizards" comment in the tags I browse, and that I'm just really exhausted at feeling like it's always up to Jedi fans to be saints, but if we show the slightest bit of snapping at yet another person putting a bad faith take on our posts, oh, we just ~can't handle anyone not babying our faves~. And honestly I don't know where to go from here, because I do enjoy good faith discussion, but I'm also just so worn out of five years of this, never knowing when someone is being reasonable or when they're going to blow up on me, never knowing when a comment is serious or a joke, the lack of structure of discussions, are we talking on a Doylist level or a Watsonian one?, etc. Five years of playing defense against people coming into the space I've created for myself, I don't know how much I can really even contribute to the discourse anymore, because it's just been so many times piled on so many times that this has happened. And the majority of the time they're pretty mild, but after a certain point you're just tired of having the same thing thrown at you, so you play defense and try to cut things off at the pass, try to predict the nonsense comments you're going to get, and that becomes woven into your meta, rather than being able to relax and just talk about what you want in the way you want. I'm not upset about this so much as just kind of navel-gazing and I do kind of loathe some of the behavior of fandom, as well as I wanted to talk about why some of us may seem pretty prickly and I hope that I can project that, yeah, I have my scraped raw nerve points in some places, but that I'm working to let go of it, and if you wonder why I've checked out from a lot of these conversations, that's why. There's little to be gained by it, I've thought about these topics for five years, I've given it all a ton of critical thought, and I'm settled where I'm settled. I'm exhausted, so I'm just going to be over here, in my own corner, trying to turn back to the things I love talking about, because that's the kind of corner of fandom I want. That seems like such a downer answer for a sweet ask, apologies!  I’m just annoyed at fandom today (what else is new) and wanted to go, you know, there’s a reason some of us seem like we’re in a bad mood at times. That said, the kind comments are appreciated and I will endeavor to get back to being more fun about Star Wars and the psychic space wizards even more than I already am.  (To be fair, I shitpost a good amount, too, okay.�� XD)

[hawkinsschoolcounselor]

How could one enter the new season with little to no expectations? Granted we would be lucky if we got ST4 by the end of the year but I've really been thinking about my hopes and fear regarding the future story and how I would feel if those weren't met. I fear I could potentially miss out and be responsible for my own disappointment and dissatisfaction despite anticipating the new season for over a year just because the theories I'm rooting for didn't come to fruition.

I hate to say it, but there’s literally no way to go into season 4 with no expectations short of going back in time and stopping yourself from watching in the first place. Even if you didn’t engage with the internet fan community, you’d still have your own personal theories and expectations. You do bring up a good point when it comes to how long it’s taking, though.

Even in a more typical offseason, fans can be expected to break down every little detail to try and predict what will come next. To an extent, many showrunners expect and count on that. I swear the WandaVision writers knew what they were doing by adding in little details to get fans paying attention to red herrings. That allowed the actual story to still be impactful even if it wasn’t what was expected. Now, Stranger Things doesn’t have the existing source material that the Marvel Cinematic Universe does, so it’s harder to assume what fans will pick up on. Still, the writers know what they are doing. They want us to be coming up with our theories because it helps keep fans engaged and interested between seasons.

The fact that this offseason is so much longer, though, could be a problem. The theories are even more meticulously crafted, every little detail is analyzed over and over, and every interview broken down with the care of a comparative literature essay. Take notice of how the social media accounts have died out. There’s absolutely nothing they are able or willing to share with us anymore. This only draws more attention to the fandom to fill that void. We are all having our expectations shaped by unofficial sources, really. My own treasured followers are almost certainly influenced by my posts to some extent. I have to be ready to be wrong about some things, and possibly have some people upset with me because of it.

In the end, we will only be disappointed if the show we get doesn’t meet the quality we expect. I personally only really have one non-negotiable (gay baiting is unacceptable to me). I’ve made a lot of theories for season 4, and I’m sure many of them will be wrong. I will still enjoy the show as long as what I get is good, which has proven to be the case so far. For example, I want Will to have powers, but I can accept a good story where he doesn’t. Conversely, I wouldn’t like a bad story where he does have them.

Let your theories and expectations drive your excitement, but don’t let them be why you do or don’t like a show. You like this show because of what the writers, actors, set designers, and others have given us so far. Trust them to continue to do so.

[xxisxxisxxis]

Gateway Drug | Part Thirty-Five

Table of Content or Part Thirty-Four

View chapter on wattpad here

Word Count: 4k

A/N: Happy birthday to Nikki Sixx who is aging like wine. I'm so proud of how far he has come and here's to another 61 years and an eternity more🖤

Warning(s): Explicit language, Mentions of drug abuse, Abuse

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"Alright, assholes, shut up and listen for two minutes." Doc tells us in the airport we wait in line at customs. "We're gonna be here in Japan for a week. Japan is not like it is back home. You can't act like you don't have any sense. They will lock your asses up in a heart beat. Do you understand?" He warns Tommy, Nikki, Vince and Mick. "Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, Daddy." Nikki sarcastically lets out, smacking his gum.

"Hey, wise ass, I don't need your comments, alright? I'm being serious, guys." Doc tells them.

"We got it, Doc. You don't have to worry about anything, bud." Tommy assures him, sincerely.

It was our first time in Japan and I've got to say, it's personally my favorite place ever.

The fans were extremely polite, and all of them had enthusiastic, wide smiles...my favorite part was that the girls actually respected the fact that Nikki's wife was with him, and didn't try to screw him in front of me like audacious rats in other places tried to.

They would just smile shyly and introduce themselves to us, and then get a picture with the guys.

If I had a dime for every time Fred has had to keep me from assaulting someone for grabbing Nikki's crotch in front of me, trying to shove their tongues down his throat, give them hotel room numbers to meet them in, etc. I would have been rich enough to afford Nikki's $3,500 a day on heroin.

Groupies were insane.

And I don't mean I saw these girls attempt this stuff from a distance.

I mean, I'd be standing right next to him, the girls would introduce themselves to me, then go on to grope Nikki before he could say a word about how it was nice to meet them.

In the midst of trying to get me on the ground before I could throw a punch, the girls would run off, and Nikki would always say "sorry, babe" and mean it.

He stopped apologizing when he stopped caring.

"...And we need blow." Tommy says to Sparkie, who's about to go on the hunt for a drug dealer in town for the guys, and I roll my eyes.

"Doc told you guys to behave because they don't tolerate bull crap here." I remind him and he and Sparkie look at me, and Nikki's grabbing at my waist and pulling me to sit on his leg before taking a swig of Jack, his striped outfit and bright, over the top makeup is the complete opposite of their Shout at the Devil era.

"What Doc doesn't know won't hurt him, Viv." Tommy says it like it's common sense. "Hey, Vinny, what do you want from a dealer?" Tommy asks him, a sharpness to his voice, and Nikki laughs.

I don't find their bullshit funny.

Vince just rolls his eyes and drinks his water with no reply.

Vince was on court mandated sobriety. And was being tortured by Nikki and even Tommy. They would offer him things they knew he couldn't have and then would play it off like they forgot.

They would have him pass them their drugs, pour them their drinks and count out how many pills they had left.

It ticked me off seeing Tommy go that fucking low all because he and Nikki were so close.

He even started being a little disrespectful to me whenever Nikki was.

Nikki's leg is shaking a little, despite him throwing back alcohol and I look over my shoulder at him.

"Are you okay?" I mouth so the others won't hear it, and Nikki nods, but I know he's full of it.

"On in five, guys, c'mon!" Doc calls out from the other side of the door and I pat Nikki's other leg and stand up, grabbing his hand and pulling him up.

We step out and head to the stage, and Nikki's turning to give me one last kiss before going on.

When he pulls away, my hands are quickly taking my crucifix off and reaching up to fasten it around his neck and it ironically overlaps with his pentagram necklace.

"For good luck." I explain and he gives me a little closed mouth smile and gives me a quick peck on the lips before following Tommy, Vince and Mick.

By the time they got off stage, Nikki was growing pale, and sweating, and not just because he was running around on stage.

Nikki had gone over 48 hours without heroin. Alcohol could keep his tremors to mere, barely noticeable shakes, but didn't do very much for his sweating and sickness.

The guys didn't know he was that deep into heroin, yet, so he didn't want to tell them it was making him that ill without it or they would realize he was further down the hole than they expected.

So, what did I do? I covered for him.

"He thinks he might have food poisoning." I explain to Tommy and Vince as they stand outside of mine and Nikki's room.

"Well, is he alright?" Tommy asks me.

"He'll be okay. He just doesn't feel like going out." I assure him.

"Alright, we gotta go." Vince nudges him.

"Tell him I hope he feels better." Tommy says.

"I will. You guys be careful."

"We will, goodnight."

"Goodnight." I reply and shut the door, hearing Nikki groaning in the bathroom.

The door's locked, and I sigh out in frustration.

"Nikki, open the door." I tell him calmly.

"Fuck off, Viv." He tells me for the hundredth time tonight.

"Open the door or I'm telling Doc." I threaten him, even though it's a complete lie.

"Tell him I want a divorce while you're at it." He snaps.

I don't say anything for a moment, and hear him sigh out, before he unlocks the door.

I step in, seeing him soaked in sweat, pale, the smell of vomit is potent and I try to keep a calm demeanor as he grips the side of the tub to help himself stand up. 

He nearly falls, tremors spazzing through his body, but I'm quick to nestle under his arm and help him stay up.

"I just need some Jack." He tells me. "It'll help."

He doesn't sound like Nikki.

He sounds like a defeated child.

"Nikki, I don't think—"

"Okay, Viv, now isn't the time for your bullshit. Get me some Jack." He orders desperately, nearly pleading.

I get him on the bed, starting to tug his boots off, before pulling his shirt over his head, and unbuckling his belt.

"Never thought...I'd ever say this...but the last thing...on my mind right...now is...fucking around." He takes heavy breaths, squeezing his eyes closed and groaning when I get his pants off.

"Yes, because seeing my husband in so much pain really turns me on." I sarcastically let out.

"I'm cold." He tells me, his hand gripping mine.

I pull the bed covers over his naked body, glancing at my necklace he's still wearing.

"I'll get you some Jack." I say, stepping to the phone on the bedside table and ordering his necessity.

I turn back to face him once I'm done, and he's curled up and shivering, and he's kicked the blankets off of him.

"Nikki?" I ask, furrowing my brows.

"I'm hot." He cracks out, shot eyes looking at me, teeth chattering together despite his tight jaw and wet, black hair clings to his soaked skin that seems to be turning transparent.

That moment I realized I was married to a junkie, and Nikki realized he had become the very thing he had been in denial of becoming.

Neither of us said a word to one another about our revelations.

The alcohol and pills they managed to score kept Nikki's roaring withdrawals at bay and allowed him to play his illness off as the flu throughout the rest of the Japan tour, and the second we got home, he was phoning every dealer he could get a hold of.

One I had never met before, Jason, was the first one to come to his aid and it didn't take me long to come to the conclusion I would inevitably have to kill that motherfucker to keep him away from my husband.

He just wanted our money, laying out an elaborate display of everything from cheap tar to clean China White, cocaine, and a pharmacy of prescription pills.

I always left to "go to the store" anytime Jason came over.

Once I was practically having a full on emotional affair, I would go find Duff but before any feelings for him emerged, I would just drive my car around the corner of the street going by the house, pull into the driveway of a half-way burnt down house, and cry. 

My husband, my Nikki, was destroying himself from the inside out, and the more I tried to do help him get better, the worse he got.

Every time I prayed for him, his demons would hold tighter to his legs and keep him shackled in place with a needle and lies that weighed him down and made him feel the need to do the only thing that made him happy, even if only temporarily.

By the end of '87, I was exhausted. I had been screaming, crying, pleading, for years for someone to do something, for someone to threaten the band, threaten them individually, get them off the road, at least try to start a conversation addressing their obvious addictions...

But they were making everyone above them money. That's all that mattered.

I was screaming into a void, and nobody could hear me. Well, they could...they were just ignoring me which was even worse.

I don't know how the hell I managed to face the same thing with Duff and his band years later.

I step into the house once Jason is gone, seeing Nikki by the fireplace, laying on the carpet, and I go to lay beside him.

We've been back from Japan a few days, and they're suppose to be preparing for their U.S. tour starting in a couple weeks.

Nikki's been in heroin land ever since we have gotten home.

And I've been in my own personal hell, being that I just added a third picture to my dead baby drawer as of yesterday.

I would go to a doctor to see if there's something wrong with me to prompt not ever making it past week twelve, but Nikki would find out somehow, someway. I've already risked enough as it is by going to the obstetrician.

"Babe," I nudge him and he opens his eyes just enough to show his pinpointed pupils, and he hums a little. "I gotta go get Tansy from the airport."

"Mmkay." He mumbles, and I force myself not to cry, remembering how miserable he was in Japan, and now we've gotten back and he's back to square one. 

Was it really square one if he never wanted to move to square two in the first place?

Tansy gets into my car, wearing what I'm assuming she wore when they taped her interview with David Letterman hours ago, while a security guard puts her stuff in the trunk.

"Well." I say, looking at her as she lays her head against the back of her seat and looks at me from behind her sunglasses. "How did the interview go?" I ask and she tugs off her heels.

"I don't know." She tells me and I furrow my brows. "The bits and pieces I remember were great." She sounds like she's about to cry.

"Were you...?" I trail off and she moves her fingers under the blacked out lenses and sniffles. "Babe, it's not anything to cry about."

I grab at her hand as she starts crying even more.

"I bombed it, Viv." She says with certainty.

"Tansy, if you don't even remember it, how do you know for sure you did a bad job?"

"You know how I act when I'm fucked up."

"I also know, by the grace of God, somehow, someway, you manage to differentiate between a setting you need to be more composed in, and a setting you can be wild in. Even when you are stoned out of your mind. I have seen you do it." I assure her. "It's really freaking creepy."

My comment has her chuckling a little and she wipes at her tears again. 

"It will be okay. I am sure you did great. And if you didn't you can just do what I do when I'm not acting normal and blame it on Mötley Crüe." 

None of us, not even Tansy herself, knew why or how she scored an interview with David Letterman, but we were all proud of her nonetheless, even if she couldn't remember much of it.

"Sparkie said Japan went good." Tansy says after we're driving for a couple minutes.

"Yeah."

"Thank you for letting him go. I know you aren't the biggest fan of him." She adds.

"I didn't let him go. The guys insisted he went because they needed someone to find them drugs." I state.

"Point is, he went. And he had fun. So thank you." She replies.

"I only tolerate him because I love you." I tell her.

"I know, and I—" she presses a quick kiss to the back of my hand. "—love you, too."

I rub my lips together and get an idea.

"Would you be up for a girl's night?" I ask.

"What do you have in mind?" She asks and I raise my brows. 

In hindsight, it was probably a bad decision to introduce Tansy to Guns N' Roses while she was still addicted to drugs and alcohol, because all it did was create toxic friendships that thrived on the struggles of everyone involved.

Tansy was very easily influenced by other people, but I figured if she had survived that long being friends with Nikki, Tommy and Vince, she would be just fine around Duff, Axl, Izzy, Steven and Slash.

Tansy and I make our way through the crowd, hand in hand, lacing through people and eager groupies.

She's heard me talk about them every now and then but now she has the opportunity to see what the hype is about.

The Troubadour is packed out, and a sense of pride swells in my chest.

"They must be good." Tansy comments, glancing around. 

Normally at least one person would have already asked for her autograph or a picture of her, but everyone is too distracted by the anticipation of the band that's been tearing up and down the strip ever since Nikki, Tommy, Vince and Mick set the bar so high. 

They're not even onstage yet, before all lights in the place shut down, and  Axl let's out one of his infamous screams that somehow mimics a melodic siren. 

The crowd goes quiet for a split second before realizing it's him, then they start screaming, clapping, stomping their feet. 

The lights come back on to reveal Axl, Duff, Izzy, Slash and Steven, picking up into the fast paced rhythm of "Anything Goes." 

With teased hair, heavy glam-rock influenced outfits and makeup, mixed with their sound, it's safe to say there isn't one dry vagina around...including Tansy, who's eyes don't leave the singing red head for the rest of the night.

Back stage is crowded, but Tansy and I manage to be the first females in their dressing room by the time their set is completely finished.

She's already broken into their Jack and Vodka stash, guzzling from both bottles simultaneously, and I look at her like she's crazy because I know it's got to hurt her throat.

"What?" She asks me, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

"You are a crazy person." I state just as the door opens, revealing Slash and Steven first, girls under each arm.

"Hey, Viv!" Steven pipes, smiling widely and Slash looks confused for a moment before realizing the blur standing before him is indeed Vivian.

"Hey, Viv." He repeats what Steven said.

Steven does a double-take really quick, seeing Tansy, his hand patting at Slash as he stands, starstruck. It's a domino effect.

First Steven, second Slash, third Duff, then Izzy and lastly, Axl.

Except Steven, Slash, Duff and Axl are frozen because Tansy Lyn is standing before them. I'm sure Izzy appreciates her beauty and participation in Playboy for the last four years, but he's more worried about her breaking into their alcohol. 

"Man, that's Tansy Lyn." Steven states.

"Drinking our booze." Izzy adds and Tansy guiltily puts it back where she got it, smiling.

"Hi." She says to them, and they immediately pretend they weren't just remembering what her naked body looks like.

Steven, as always, is the first to make himself known to a beautiful girl, extending his hand to her. 

"I'm Steven." He tells her.

Slash is shyly hiding behind his curly hair the best he can as Steven puts an arm around him.

"This is Slash." He adds. 

"The grubby fingered alcoholic is Izzy." I tell her as he lights a cigarette. 

"Read this grubby finger, Viv." Izzy states blankly, flipping me off and I hold back a laugh.

"I'm Duff." Duff introduces himself next, and Tansy has to look up so high, her head is tipped completely back before shaking his hand.

Axl doesn't introduce himself, he just stands and stares at her for a moment, black sunglasses blocking our eyes from his.

"Axl." Is all he says before grabbing the bottle of Jack, grabbing one of the girls Steven and Slash walked in with, and leaving.

"He's not an asshole seventy-five percent of the time." I try to defend him against her as she looks like her feelings have been hurt slightly. 

"But when he is an asshole, just avoid him for a few hours and stay out of his way." Duff scoffs out, grabbing the bottle of vodka.

They all knew that piece of advice too well.

Not entirely sure how we ended up back at mine and Nikki's house, but Nikki wasn't home, and probably wasn't going to be home until early morning, so Duff, Steven and Tansy were all in my house.

"If you break a mirror, you buy it!" I call out to Steven and Tansy as Duff and I have our legs dangling in the pool water, hearing something breaking inside the house through the open french doors that lead into the kitchen.

Duff blows smoke out of his nose, laughing at Tansy and Steven calling back, "We didn't!" 

"Jesus." I mumble, grinning to myself and Duff joins in with me, laughing harder at me as "Get Down Tonight" starts blaring through the speakers in the house.

Tansy has officially met her match. 

"I'm glad they get along." Duff says smoothly.

"They both like weed and the same music taste. Seems like a beautiful friendship to me." I shrug and he smiles. 

There's a pause in the air, and he keeps looking at me. 

"What?"

"There's dancing trophies in your house." He tells me and I raise my brows, remembering the day Nikki had demanded my hard earned proof of years dedicated to such a difficult art form, be put on display on a shelf right next to his awards for Gold and Platinum records.

"Yeah? I told you I use to be a dancer." I reply.

"I thought you meant you were a stripper." He confesses and I widen my eyes, elbowing him gently.

"No!" 

"Well, I'm sorry! You're married to a rock guy, you said you use to be a dancer, rockers and strippers go hand-in-hand. It's, like, written in stone or whatever." He tells me. 

"Oh my gosh, Duff." I rub my face and he finishes his cigarette before pulling out another one. 

"So, why don't you do it anymore?" He asks and I think for a second and lick my lips.

"It just wasn't really..." I trail off and he furrows his brows. "...I guess after over a decade of dancing, after graduating, it just  wasn't my thing anymore. I just moved onto bigger and better stuff." 

"What's your thing now, then?" It's obvious he doesn't buy my explanation.

"Being Nikki Sixx's wife." I admit and an odd silence falls over us. 

"You gave up school--Julliard--and dance, only to be known as somebody's wife?" 

"Well, damn, Duff, when you say it like that..." I try not to be hurt because I know he doesn't mean any ill will from it and he immediately starts apologizing. 

"I didn't mean it like that." He tells me. "It's just a waste of talent if you never utilize it anymore. You can't just be dependent on being Nikki's wife, Viv. You need your own thing." 

I wanted to tell him I couldn't afford to be anything but Nikki's wife, or else I'd lose everything.

Nikki's home sooner than I expect as I get ready for bed.

Steven, Tansy and Duff are all asleep on the living room floor, and Nikki comes into our bathroom to splash water on his face.

"The fuck is in our house?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"Why're you home this early?"

"Jason's coming over." He tells me. "And he's bringing his girlfriend."

"Umm, baby, it would be nice for my friends not to wake up and be met with a drug dealer naming off poisons like an auctioneer."

"Tell them to fuck off." He mumbles, digging through his pockets of the clothes he was wearing yesterday. "Have you seen the check?" He asks me and I raise my brows.

"The check from the label for the Japan tour?" I ask and he nods. "You asked me to cash it yesterday and I did."

"Okay, so where did you put it?"

I step to my top drawer and hand him the stack of cash and he starts thumbing through it, his brows furrowing when he stops halfway through.

"The check was for $150,000, Viv. Where's the rest?" He snaps and I cross my arms.

"You said put 20% in savings and told me I could give 10% to tithes." I remind him, and he looks like he is going to murder me.

"You gave fifteen fucking thousand dollars to a church?! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" He seeths, his face twisting angrily.

"You told me I could Nikki." I try not to get upset. "I asked you and you said—"

"—I said 'yes' because I was fucked up and wasn't thinking, Viv!" He yells, throwing the pile of cash across the room, causing bills to fly everywhere. "And that's exactly why you waited until you knew I couldn't pay attention to care enough about what you were saying because you knew I would laugh in your face if I were sober!" He accuses me.

"Is it so bad if your money goes to something other than drugs?" I stupidly ask him.

He's lunging at me, grabbing my wrists, and pinning me to the bed while screaming in my face.

"That's my fucking money! Mine! How I want to spend it is my fucking business, Vivian!" He shakes me, and I can no longer hold back tears. "You're gonna go tomorrow to that fucking shit hole and tell those fallacious bastards you need that $15,000 back!"

"Nikki, I already told them it was their's." I try to explain, shaking my head a little, sobbing so thickly I'm not even sure he can understand me.

"You'll get my fucking money back or I'll give you something to fucking whine about." He threatens darkly.

He shoves himself off of me and storms out of the house, slamming the front door.

I go to make sure he didn't wake Tans, Stevie, or Duff up, but to my horror, Tansy and Steven are sound asleep while I hear the door slam a second time and realize Duff followed Nikki out.

[russburlingame]

9 Years.

Apparently, yesterday was my 9-year Tumblr anniversary. I only noticed because, my sheer coincidence, I logged in to post today. Happy birthday!

Last week, I released the first new episode of the Emerald City Video Podcast in a long while. Zach Roberts and I have actually recorded a few that never made their way to the internet, since it takes an act of God to make me actually do any editing. I’ll be working on that.

For anyone who hasn’t listened to it before, the Emerald City Video Podcast is named after a video store (which no longer exists) in Syracuse, New York. I worked there in college, and loved it. There, I learned to love movies I never would otherwise have given a chance, and also fell in love with the idea of collecting movie props. We had them everywhere, and I came to realize how cool it is to have an actual, tangible piece of something you love. I have worked on this podcast for more than 7 years, primarily with Zach but occasionally with other guest hosts who worked at Emerald City or other video stores.

You can listen to the new episode here, which is a review of John Wick Chapter 4. It’s a “New Release Wall” episode, which is video store speak for “we went to the movies and recorded our reaction in the car after.” We’re fancy, I know. I didn’t send this episode out as an email blast, because we have another episode coming this week, which I think is a much, much better introduction to ECV for anybody who is just finding us on Substack now, where I'm putting the show so I don't have to pay for hosting.

What have I been up to?

Earlier this month (as I alluded to in my introductory post), I finished the crowdfunding campaign for Time To Be Heroes, my second full book. It’s an oral history of DC’s Legends of Tomorrow, featuring interviews with the cast and crew. A lot of what I expect to be posting to Substack will be behind-the-scenes goodness from creating that book, as well as a little ebook companion that I’m planning on putting together that features conversations with comic book creators, fan fiction writers, and other folks who are a big part of the Legends community but likely will not feature prominently in an oral history of the show itself.

I will also be sharing some other side projects. For over a decade now, I have been doing a “director’s commentary”-style column for each issue of Savage Dragon. It has followed me between three different websites, and the first two no longer host any of the old content. So I have a book coming out soon that will collect the first 24 issues of my commentaries, with new introductions to each by Savage Dragon superfan and editor Gavin Higginbotham.

I have had great success with my first two books on crowdfunding platforms, and am currently trying to decide whether to launch a campaign for this — it’s almost completely finished, and my only real expenses will be layout and printing — or just sell it on my online store. It seems the ticking clock of crowdfunding really serves as an incentive to folks, but it feels strange to do another crowdfunding campaign so soon after the Legends one.

My first book, an oral history of the 2001 movie Josie and the Pussycats, is something I’m still very proud of, and it made enough money that I was able to publish The Gold Exchange, a collection of old interviews and columns that serves as an unoffiical companion to Booster Gold comics from 2006 until 2022. The Josie book, The Gold Exchange, and some other stuff is available at JosieBook.com, and Time To Be Heroes will be available in February of next year.

Anyway, that feels like enough for now. I do have some big stuff I want to yell into the void about soon. But…not tonight. Soon.

[mamatoph]

Attesting to this!! This is very long but I have many feels about this because pretty much all of my hobbies center around creating fanworks. It's like the only thing I do besides work.

Nothing motivates me to create more than people giving feedback. And on the other hand, nothing discourages me and halts creativity more than throwing something into the internet void and hearing nothing back.

Feedback is literally the entire reason fanfic writers, fan artists, cosplayers, etc. do what we do. Why? Because fandom is an interactive activity. It's a conversation. There is no fandom without conversation.  I'm going to have that head canon about my OTP no matter what. But the thing that makes me write it down is the hope that other people that like this weird thing as much as me might like this too.

The reason writing fanfic is fun? It's because you read this thing I spent days on and tell me you like it and why and hey! Now it's clear we both like this thing and not only that, we share specific ideas about the thing.

The reason cosplay is fun? I spent months on this thing and put it on because I'm going to see if maybe I can embody this character and if you recognize me and tell me you like it, I was at least marginally successful.

The creative process is so incredibly vulnerable. When I publish a thing I write I'm taking ideas and emotions in me and trying my best to illustrate it and convey it to you. I'm trying the closest thing to telepathy I know of, I'm literally trying to take the pictures and sounds and feelings up there and see if I can transfer them to you and get you to see it and hear it and feel it too.

Cosplay is it's own kind of hell sometimes because I love this character enough to try to embody them myself. And you could very well really dislike it and it could easily have a lot to do with just what I look like and the way I am as a person. But the characters are important enough for me to try with my clothes and my body and mannerisms to bring them to life here and hope you agree with what I did and that it makes you happy to see this character here.

That's why it's so important to tell us if you like a thing we do. Your creators put themselves in a vulnerable place to make things. It's a process that has a very emotional center and we're trying to converse with you when we put it out there. This is not a thing we like casually. I don't write nearly 40,000 words in one month about a thing I passively like. I don't spend months making something that's actually a bit brutally tiring to wear because this thing is neither here nor there to me. I am like weirdly passionate about this thing, this thing is incredibly important to me, and I'm hoping when I put this out there that you'll talk back to me if you feel similarly.

If we don't hear anything, we will assume you are quietly telling us that you didn't like our interpretation and after a while we will listen.

That's why we get sad when a piece has a ton of hits and proportionately few likes/kudos and only a handful of comments. We assume a majority of you didn't like it or at least not enough to say anything.

That's why you hear about people being sad if they don't get their photo taken in cosplay, or a post of theirs about their costume just kinda dies without any feedback. It's because it's a silent conversation. They're talking to fandom and no one is talking back.

If you didn't like the thing, that's no worries. But if you did, please for the love of fandom and all that is holy, tell us. Comment in addition to liking or leaving kudos if at all possible. We love kudos but we stay creating for the people who actively talk with us, who tell us they notice our ideas and tell us what they liked about them. That creates a connection. I create more for fandoms that talk to me. I see every single like, kudos, comment, even the things you put in the tags when you reblog. I notice and it's hugely important to me.

And let me tell you the size of the fandom doesn't mean shit. I've written like one small one shot for huge fandoms and disappeared after because no one said shit even though they read it. I've written huge multichaps for big fandoms that commented back. I wrote that 40,000 words last month in the Izetta fandom alone. That is an incredibly tiny fandom but they show up. They talk. I can tell they appreciate the fanworks that exist and are trying to encourage more. I started off with one one shot that was relatively short and ended up just shy of a small novel in a month because a handful of people talked back to me.

If you don't talk to us, we will take the hint. But you'd be surprised what even a few comments can do.  Imagine what would happen if everyone who consumes your stuff gives feedback.

Talk to us. It's why we're here. It's why we made this thing. We want to hear from you. We're actively looking for you when we put it out there. We're trying to strike up a conversation. Fandom stays alive when there's conversation. Don't let us just talk into nothing. Talk back. I promise it'll pay off.

I’ve seen five different authors take down, or prepare to take down, their posted works on Ao3 this week.  At the same time, I’ve seen several people wishing there was more new content to read.  I’ve also seen countless posts by authors begging for people to leave comments and kudos. 

People tell me I am a big name fan in my chosen fandom.  I don’t quite get that but for the purposes of this post, let’s roll with it.  On my latest one shot, less than 18% of the people who read it bothered to hit the kudos button.  Sure, okay, maybe that one sort of sucked.  Let’s look at the one shot posted before that - less than 16% left kudos.  Before that - 10%, and then 16%.  I’m not even going to get into the comments.  Let’s just say the numbers drop a lot.  I’m just looking at one shots here so we don’t have to worry about multiple hits from multiple chapters, people reading previous chapters over, etc.  And if I am a BNF, that means other people are getting significantly less kudos and comments.

Fandom is withering away because it feels like people don’t care about the works that are posted.  Why should I go to the trouble of posting my stories if no one reads them, and of the people who do read them, less than a fifth like them?  Even if you are not a huge fan of the story, if it kept your attention long enough for you to get to the bottom, go ahead and mash that kudos button.  It’s a drop of encouragement in a big desert. 

TL;DR: Passively devouring content is killing fandom.