#I apologise to everyone in the poetry community

[wren-again]

Me, adhd posting into the void because all of my thousands of followers apparently died in the great nipple purge of '18

My ice-cream, sadly melting, forgotten and alone

[annoyinglandmagazine]

Bilbo was taking surprisingly well to Valinor. Of course he’d been expecting it to be an adjustment, elves were very different creatures to hobbits after all, but he was certainly in fine comfort here. He’d always got the impression that elves had very- well for want of a better word elven ideas about what constituted a home, it was not his place to criticise but sleeping in trees seemed to lack a sense of cosiness to be perfectly honest, but Elrond seemed to have gone to a heartwarming effort to make his surroundings more familiar.

He and Frodo had been given spacious yet hobbit proportioned chambers in the building (practically a castle really) his wife had made for their household, a display of generosity that he should have come to expect yet still took him off guard. The rooms were filled with lush wall hangings, rugs and throw blankets, each pieces of art, and there were ever so many places one could sit and work away at whatever took their fancy or simply gaze out at the stars or waves crashing against the rocks.

Despite the seeming peace and tranquillity of his surroundings he was not oblivious to the fact that there was tension in the halls. He was proven right when Elrond came in one day after going down to the city, somewhere the hobbits had still not quite worked up the nerve to go themselves as they knew they would stick out like sore thumbs and were not fully prepared to be bombarded with questions and stares.

The Lady Galadriel’s brother Finrod had become familiar company however, when he was not too busy teasing his sister that is, and seemed genuinely eager and impressed with all they had to say. He even seemed enthusiastic about Bilbo’s attempts at poetry, though when he heard a reinterpretation of an ancient romance ballad about the flame haired princess being freed from her tower by a valiant elven prince he had to cover his mouth politely before bursting into a fit of laughter when he met Elrond’s eyes. He apologised profusely afterwards, though Bilbo was still trying to discover what had been so funny.

On this day however Finrod was not in attendance, it was just some of Elrond’s household, his wife and Bilbo in the corner writing a new poem about Beren and Luthien (a little overdone perhaps but still an incredible story). Elrond hung his cloak on the stand by the door and adjusted some invisible flaw in his braid work before picking up a book and silencing all the numerous proceedings in the bustling communal area with one casually uttered sentence from the window seat.

‘I decided to invite my parents over for dinner.’

Glorfindel dropped the plant pot he was holding with a crash, the only noise in the stifling silence. Everyone seemed to take that as their queue to leave whatever they were doing and walk calmly, run like their lives depended on it for the doors, some even for the windows. All except Bilbo that is, he wanted to hear what it was that made all these dignified and battle hardened immortal beings scatter like young hobbits pillaging Farmer Maggot’s grounds.

Glorfindel spoke and his voice was definitely trembling, goodness what could this be about? ‘Which- which parents would these be Lord Elrond?’

Elrond didn’t look up as if he hadn’t noticed the panic he’d unleashed and twirled his bookmark about his fingers while replying absentmindedly. ‘Hmmm? Oh, well I really didn’t want to start off on a note of picking some over the others after so many millennia apart so I thought it best to meet them together, clear the air and all that rather than leave things fester. I’m quite done with letting things go unspoken you know.’

‘You what.’ The Balrog Slayer trembled and shook, he who had laughed in the face of the Nazgûl.

‘What in all the lands of Arda could have possessed you to- Elrond! Are you trying to get us all killed?!’

‘Oh, peace Glorfindel, my family aren’t going to kill each other or you.’

‘Elrond your families killing each other is how you got one of them! Which is still severely fucked up by the way and so ridiculously unhealthy I don’t even know what to do with it.’

Elrond huffed at Glorfindel’s hysterics, ‘Honestly, it’s fine. It’s just dinner. They’re hardly going to sour their first meeting with me since before the destruction of Beleriand just to be petty.’

Bilbo privately thought that there was very little certain family members wouldn’t do to be petty, especially where ill advised family dinners were concerned. Tonight should be entertaining at least. He wondered if the elves, with the wisdom of many ages would be able to restrain themselves.

Glorfindel sighed and leaned forward onto his hand muttering something that, despite Bilbo’s incomplete fluency in the language, sounded suspiciously like swearing. ‘Well I suppose there’s nothing we can do now except send as many to safety as we can spare and pray to every Valar we can think of.’

‘And hide the breakables,’ Elrond chimes in lightly seemingly unperturbed by the very dangerous individual who was looking gradually more and more murderous. ‘Naneth used to throw things at the wall after receiving letters from Atya. Best hide any weaponry as well. Maybe serve something that doesn’t require sharp cutlery?’

Glorfindel inhaled slowly several times while staring down his significantly younger lord. ‘I hope you know Elrond, that the only reason I am not throttling you right now is that I do not want to upset the Lady Idril by causing injury to her only grandchild. She terrifies me, perhaps more than you and your parents but it is a fine fucking line.’

As Glorfindel headed out to try and pull the house into some semblance of readiness for the seeming impending disaster Elrond lifted his gaze from his novel and stared out at the rolling ocean before him. While only moments ago he had seemed light and teasing, as if he were secretly aware of and enjoying the turmoil he’d caused, something Bilbo had become more and more accustomed to seeing from him since their arrival on these shores, now he appeared every inch of his years, an ages long loss lined in those bright eyes and a trace of hesitance that was even more alarming.

 ‘Are you quite alright lad?’ Elrond’s mouth moved into familiar expression of amusement at being referred to as such by one so many times his younger and that was something at least though his eyes didn’t change.

 ‘Everything’s alright, it’s only just- well it’s been so long Bilbo. I know coming from me that may sound unusual to you, but I’m talking about things that happened in the First Age of the world, in Beleriand for goodness sake, that entire continent hasn’t existed for over seven millennia. So it’s just hard- I’ve spent so long imagining this day and I truly have no idea how it will go. It’s been so long since I’ve had parents and now- I might finally get that connection again but what if it fails? They haven’t seen me since I was a child, some of them anyway, what if they don’t like the person I am now?’

 ‘Any parent would be proud of having someone like you for a child, Elrond. I’m sure it will go splendidly, why they must have missed you dreadfully, I can’t imagine being separate from Frodo for so long.’ He was touched deeply by this elven lord opening up to him about such worries and resolved to try his best to make tonight go without a hitch. Glorfindel must have surely be overreacting after all, it couldn’t be that hard, could it, to prevent a few people (he was admittedly still unclear on the circumstances that led to Elrond’s parents being referred to as seemingly distinct groups) coming to blows at a reunion with their son?

[honeylikesyanderes]

pros and cons of dating the yanderes pt. 2 (yandate edition)

not proofread-

was sick when i finished it so pardon me if it sucks

18+ mdni pls

this is kinda crack and kinda serious at the same time tbh

icarus

pros

can fly

is a pretty boy

loves flowers

loves giving gifts

has wine mom energy

is rich

has pretty eyes

loves giving you kisses and hugs

you get free stuff all the time from his winery

carries water for you when you go out in case you get dehydrated

always pays attention to everything you touch when you guys go shopping

cons

will gaslight you for no good reason

is toxic

may cuss out your parents just because

loves to cause chaos

favourite colour is bright orange.

doesn't like milk

can be a bit messy

doesn't like to clean up feathers from his wings that fall around the house

ren

pros

is a sweetheart

extremely supportive

likes kids

is loyal to a fault

would do anything for his mate

is affectionate

can cook

physically and biologically incapable of cheating on you

makes art for you all the time

likes to bake and cook for you all the time

packs lunch for you when you have to go to work

bakes you world-class cakes for your birthday, anniversary and any other important days to you

your parents/friends will love him

cons

likes to drink orange juice after brushing his teeth.

drew

pros

will do house chores without you asking

is a middle-aged cat in human form basically

will indulge you in your guilty pleasures

super tall so you'll always feel petite beside him

will always apologise when he's wrong

will always protect you

can and will talk you out of bad situations

has a lot of connections and is willing to use them to help you out

cons

is a lawyer.

is death and is therefore desensitised to death and other related matters

can't feel much emotions towards anyone that isnt you.

minor drinking problem (even tho he cant get drunk)

not super touchy or super sexual

atlas

pros

has a lot of money and influence

will always spoil you

overprotective of you

loves to read

will write you edgar allen poe type poetry

can teleport!!

will make good impressions with your parents/friends

will threaten your coworkers if they're mean to you

has nice horns

will buy you a custom gun because 'it'll look cute on you''

cons

will probably kill your exes (even if you guys are on good terms)

is triggered by specific colours

likes to put gin in his cereal

trust issues x30000

might become distant when he's going through a tough time

always carries a tiny alcohol flask with him everywhere (even tho he canonically cannot get drunk)

anger issues towards everyone that isnt you.

avanti

pros

always horny

has quite a bit of money

very cute and conventionally attractive

is a streamer and gamer

great with his hands/fingers

affectionate, fluffy and shy with you

will always flirt with you and keep your relationship interesting

has fluffy ears and tail

likes alternative music and is open-minded

very assertive and can communicate his needs/wants effectively

cons

may flirt with fans as fan service

just a flirty person in general

bad with boundaries sometimes

likes to lick you just because

is a cat demon fr

true demon form is super scary and you're not allowed to see

always horny.

doesn't like apple juice

[its-a-pain-having-a-name]

@frogphantom hi I wrote out what I remembered in notes so here it is. I remember the reason I abandoned it was I’d thought I wouldn’t be able to write it well and that the characters where not developed enough nor was the world building (especially the fae aspects) (the format is a bit mucky my apologies) (I’m chuffed I actually remembered to do this tbh)

Gaia- she has lived in the outskirts of the forest from since she was born, her mothers live with her for a long time, they since died or disappeared (which was functionally the same thing). She always practiced magic, particularly using the elements and rituals, she also could create concoctions which could be considered potions from the plants she carefully tended. She is quite a bright soul but if someone where to try and hurt those she holds dear she should be excused if she hexed the perpetrators. One day she was tending her plants, then heard a cacophony, she went to investigate and low and behold found Angus profusely apologising to the quite shaken Verdenus.

She is Mother to Fin and Lutin along side her partners Verdenus and Angus, she loves to teach her about how to tend to plants. She can be worried about being smothering.

Vendenus - They never we too close to the others in the fae court, and so happened to stumble across the small cottage, it fascinated them so much that they had not noticed the younger version of Angus pacing nervously though the woods lost, and so happened to be tripped over by him. He met Giga a bit later as she came from her gardening to see what had happened. They are the father or parent to Fin (technically step but functionally not) and Lutin along side Angus and Giga. He always enjoyed poetry, philosophy and art, they love teaching their children about it. They can worry about being too aloof.

Angus- People of the town saw him as a strong promising lad, thinking how he’d some day settle down with a family, a real pilar of the community. See that might have happened if he never went to look for the forest witch, if his brother hadn’t come down with that horrid disease. So that’s how he found himself in the woods he had thought he was lost. Then he met Giga and Verdenus. He enjoys the company of others, and carpentry. He is the Father of Fin and Lutin (technically step but functional not)along side his partners, Verdenus and Giga. He like to teach the children his trade and also tho he knew how people could be cruel as Giga insisted and he and Verdenus agreed, he made sure they had the social skills enough to he able to leave if they wished to. He worries about those close to him getting hurt and being totally alone.

Fin- The older human son of Vendenous, Angus and Giga, he took on the more sociable personality of his father Angus. He enjoys visits to the town and seeing all the different trades at work, but also hates the way they treat only him and his father with any ounce of respect. He tried to ignore the comments they make and they way they pity him for the family he was bore into, which he loves. He tries to ignore the comments and stay cheerful, to try and protect everyone around him yet when he’s alone it angers him. He would hate to inadvertently cause others harm.

Lutin- the younger half-fae child of Verdenus, Angus and Giga.

They never really liked going into town, the people there always whispered; they knew they did. I it didn’t really matter to them, they’d always preferred the forest, searching through that beautiful living landscape, climbing tree, studying all those beautiful life forms and the sound scape was like no other. The only reason they would go to town was if they needed more pigments, inks or that Fin needed some help with an errand; they could guess the townsfolk didn’t like them from there non traditional manner, or what they were (it was also down to their grandparents but they did not know this). They had always shown an affinity for the forest and their parents realised they could not stop them traversing it, so they set some rules like not to venture too deep into the the trees and to be back for dinner before sunset.

The forest: the forest was a vast biodiversity landscape, the town folk would often ignore it not knowing much for the fae inhabitants. Often those humans connected to the supernatural would live around the border of these woodlands, which lead to a mistrust and suspicious being magic user and those of the town. The only real time a towns member would venture into the forest was to get aid for the seriously ill, some would go with the intent to harass the habitats or rarely at the edges collect raw materials such as fallen wood for fires.

The town: a small isolated place near the vast fae forests. The town has little outside influence aside from the occasional travel merchant. The town is self sufficient full of all sorts of trades, from stone masons to fletchers. There are a few well respected families, who have a decent amount of sway over the opinions in the town, Angus’s family was one of which. It was not really known why Angus was allowed to go alone into the forest that day, maybe they were desperate due the plight of his brother almost dying, but later on, his family definitely do not like his choice of partners. As he grew distant from them his mother started to paint the picture to the town’s folk that her son should be pitied and was blameless and when Fin was born she painted him in the same light, for he resembled the rest of the family.

See the plot was supposed to be Lutin saying out a bit too long after a chance meeting with a fae resident, starting the conversation with an offer of bread they had with them for lunch, getting lost with time. They arrived home slightly late but their parents thought little of it. Then they went out the next day to talk to Ary, Lutin was so engrossed in their conversation they did not realise the light had faded, Fin had to venture to find them, as he and his parents worried what had happened to Lutin. Ary was intrigued she had never heard about a family like theirs before. Fin approached carefully at first but upon realising that Lutin was not in distress, he greeted them, then Ary cheerfully. He was not sure how to approach this but he invited Ary to come with them as this would be the best explanation, however he did not know if this was the right course of action.

[oloreaa]

I don't care what Star Wars has established as culturally important for Alderaan [edit after many have already reblogged this: I wasn't aware that existing Alderaanian fashion takes inspiration from Filipino and Hispanic cultures, so I want to apologise for the kinda insensitive phrasing above], but now I'm taking over the wheel and adding Chinese flavour to it:

Like in ancient China, hair is traditionally grown long to honour their parents and ancestors, modern influences have made it that many also wear short hair (and it is accepted as well), but most Alderaanians that are not space-travellers keep their hair long

Red is a very lucky colour and worn to important events; white is for mourning, which adds another twist of Leia almost always wearing white in the movies :D

A lot of very poignant and romantic poetry that are often quoted as sayings (example: the common description for 'lover' is an excerpt of a line from an old poem)

Lanterns are a big thing! Paper lanterns that are painted with various things, illuminating walkways in a gentle light against glossy dark wood, it's tradition to make and paint lanterns with family and significant others

Giving children money packaged in red envelopes as a present is a very common practise, a lot of well wishes are based on fortune and earning much

Most people play one or more instruments, strings and flutes and drums (think guqin, erhu, pipa, dizi, etc) and there are big festivals where their skills are shown off, it is a huge deal and followed by many people across the galaxy

Making food together!! Big BIG deal!! Many dishes take hours to prepare or require many hands and it is commonplace that everyone gathers and helps; taking care of people through food and making them some is also a way of showing affection

There is not much emphasis on jewellery, but gold and jade accessories bring luck, and most wear a pure jade bracelet when they come of age

A lot of mythology and a giant amount of stories one could tell about the universe and the earth, of lost love and of family, of duty and betrayal and sacrifices and grand acts that makes the world turn

One story is about how the Sun and the Moon had been lovers, but the Moon died and that is the reason why Alderaan did not have a natural satellite

Alderaanian customs are always changing but they are very proud of their history and the fact that they are a founding planet of the Old Republic, placing big emphasis on their culture whenever they host something

Very family-oriented, a lot of their upbringing is focused on filial duty and responsibility to the community, families and neighbourhoods by extension are very tight-knit and there are a lot of communal spaces

Anyways Alderaan is space China now cuz I said so, feel free to add more❤

[fictional-ghost]

good morning everyone!

i think i would very much like to come back here and start writing and sharing my writing with you again. so, maybe i should post a plan, hmm? that way i know how to get back into here without getting adhd-overloaded.

so, first i need to unfollow inactive accounts. then, reach out to people i've been ignoring and apologise! then, update my intro post, catch up on taglists, and figure out where i am with my poetry and WIPS.

i missed you guys, and i really hope i can find the same level of community here that i had before!

[inexhaustiblywild]

Hello folks!

So, in the grand tradition of my people, I am here to celebrate the people that made my life infinitely better, colourful, and all the more happier.

I am not doing this in any particular order, I just want to celebrate all my friends here and say a few heartfelt words and let you guys know while the year was less than appreciative to all of us, I think you guys were some of the best parts of it.

@codenamepinetree: so according to this you were the first person to follow this blog when I made the move and honestly that move was a great idea. I was super shy about it at first but I think we have grown into a pretty comfortable (at least in writing) relationship. Sadly I am still a bit of an awkward bean on the chat but that’s Cricket for you. I love Jackal, he’s so infuriating to Ernessa and you gave us a story of corruption, twisted love, and you let me explore her years in the military which I almost never get to do.

Outside of our threads you are a great friend and I know I can call on you with any crazy plot ideas I may stumble on my way through the day. I see such great potential in our crazies and our muses. Hope this new year will bring out the best for you!!!

@ericbrandonrp: you are actually my oldest mutual here, staying with me for over three blog changes so far and I feel like I owe you a lot for making me feel welcomed in this community of OC’s and you gave Ernessa and I a great story of love and betrayal. I know our activity has a bit dwindled and that’s mostly my fault. I shall remedy that as soon as I can. Tho regardless of activity I consider you a great friend.

as for Eric I love him, he is such an awkward fellow with very good intentions towards his loved ones. I love his enthusiasm, how he embraces new things and experiences. I wish Ernessa was kinder to him but heartbreaks do make great stories I suppose.

@seesgood: just like your url you see the good in everyone and I think many would agree with me when I say you are one of the pillars of this community, you spread positivity, joy, and love to us all even when we feel down. I see you rally for people, and I cried to you myself several times about how this community made me feel at times. It is because of you that I still have this blog, because of you that I didn’t pack my shit and moved on. Both of us love you so much. If you ever need anything call me.

I don’t know how to explain Caroline without letting Ernessa take control cause as far as she is concerned Caroline is her everything. She is warmth on a cold day as she’d put it. I think Ernessa loves her selflessness so much, her desire to be loved, her insecurities and vulnerabilities which Ernessa will protect or fight with her life. She is the kind of a woman someone should write sonnets about and you made me a stan for life. Both for you and for Caroline. We love you!

@quiisquiliae: hello friendo, the year is almost over and I send you and my lil dude all the love! In my heart you will always have a special place for being the person who introduced me to the glory that is dragon age and since then I have played that dumb game three times and loved every moment of it. Sadly, we didn’t get a lot of threads out this year, such is life, but I enjoy our every chat and the stupid banter our muses get up to. You and your crazy trash boys are a must in this community.

I don’t know which one of your boys I should shout out for because they are all garbage and I love them. (It’s in the name people!) Writing with you is some of the most fun I had, and I think I will give this spot to Tal because in the end his enthusiasm about stabbing people is what this holiday is all about. Tal is a mess, a hot mess but a mess. A hero that someone should have probably left home, but he’s now stuck with it. He is fun, he is stabby, and he has colourful ideas on how to hurt people. 10/10 would recommend.

@anditsxsorrows: I think you were the most surprising friend of the year. When I moved blogs I didn’t think you’d have any interest in me. Idk why but I’ve always been a bit shy around you and didn’t think you’d have much for lil ol’ me but boy was I wrong. You are a welcoming, open minded, and over all such a lovely person. Each time we write you kill me with how good it is. I wait for it and the anticipation of it is great but the BAM the real thing knocks me out every single time. You are quickly becoming one of my go-tos in terms of plotting and other shenanigans.

Klaus is exactly like what Ernessa is. They are from the same soul or star, or idk. I am not as good as them in terms of poetry and talking nice. But they are certainly something. Klaus’ love of art and the immediate acceptance he showed to Ernessa is something neither of is will forget. She is so in love dude, like it’s such a terrible idea to get them together because imagine the death toll alone but I love them. I love Klaus and how pretentious he is sometimes, and how he shows great kindness to Ernessa. Klaus is not a good person by any stretch of imagination, but he is an amazing friend and a lover (at least to her and that’s all that matters.).

@fvk-destiny: I have been thinking and this year certainly wouldn’t have been as good without you or Lambert. I am still getting to know you but what I see is something I admire. You have been a wonderful friend to me so far and I see you interact with others and that only cements my good opinion of you. I am looking forward to knowing you more outside of rp. You certainly have been one of the highlights of this year.

Lambert is one of my favourite muses to write with because honestly, I can see him as I read it. I am an avid fan of the third game, and I loved him ever since he decided to go on a homicidal rampage for his fallen friend. We stan Lambert in this house. Then as the story progressed, I loved him more. Then you took all these things I loved about him and made it into something much more compelling, and deep, and you gave him the story he deserves. I read him and all I want to do is give him a hug. Also I command him for letting a random woman off the street to just barge into his business and start ordering him about. I can’t wait to see what else we can create with him! To many more years of story telling and friendships!

@mxuntainlion: so, I found you through Lambert and what I find it has been! You took a little-known character and run with him. That requires imagination, dedication, and a lot of love. I always admire people who can take characters like Aiden and make them whole. You gave him an incredible story, and I love that me and my girl get to be a part of that story in some little way. Talking to you off rp has also been a delight, though I worry sometimes about these things I am really happy to gather my courage and now I consider you a friend. This year has been shit for so many reasons, but you and Aiden made it a little less horrible.

In terms of story in canon we don’t know much about Aiden but then here you are giving him this amazing and heart-breaking love story, make him this sassy, snarky and confident character. I know that next time I play the game that mission is gonna be so much more emotional because you made Aiden a real person. Ernessa is imprinted on him like a little duckling, she needs a big brother, she needs someone that she can prank her favourite cousin with. Idk she seems to adore him, and they make a very lovely adventuring company. I can’t wait to see their stories develop.

@humilemvatis: I remember feeling a bit hesitant to approach you because I am a potato but then you were so easy to talk to! I think I’ve been bugging you ever since. You took a unique approach to Jaskier and while you kept all the things that made us love him, you gave us even more reasons to love him! I think you are a very talented story teller and I am sure your bard would side with me on this. I followed you at the start of December and within that time you have been an amazing friend and source of inspiration.

Jaskier, I sincerely apologise for everything Ernessa says and does and will say and do. Their thread is still in it’s stages of infancy, but I can tell it has the potential to go some unexpected places. I love this Jaskier you have, his immortality, his inability to see his own worth and value at times. He needs a good soup as my grandma would say. I love him so much already and Ernessa’s appreciation of him is genuine tho she admits she judged him too quickly at first glance. She’ll remedy that soon!!!

[hermitcraftheadcanons]

Heathers AU MasterPost

So anyway, I made a post on one of my alts about a Heathers AU so I went and made one. Enjoy?

Character Assignment:

Heather C: TangoTek

Heather D: ImpulseSV

Heather M: Zedaph

Kurt and Ram: Cub and Scar

Martha Dunstock: Joe Hills.

Veronica: XisumaVoid.

JD: Evil X.

Contextual Changes:

-The Convex aren't creeps in this AU like Kurt and Ram are, just really shady business men. I'm not comfortable with that in my AU or portraying characters based on real people like that; even if it is just the character. Sorry.

-Joe isn't bullied for being fat (because he isn't.) He gets bullied for being weird. IE, 'who writes poetry for fun? Geek.'

-Unlike Martha Dunstock who has a crush on Ram (or Kurt if it's the movie,) Joe just wants to befriend Scar and learn how to make hella money.

-Xisuma (Veronica) and Evil X (JD) knew each other before the AU started but Xisuma hasn't really given him the time of day until now.

-Also they aren't a couple, just good friends.

-Dead Gay Son and Shine A Light were removed because they didn't really have narrative purpose.

-Anyway, this is based on the musical meaning if anything changed from the Movie, (IE, Betty Finn's disappearance) that also goes here.

Line Changes: (WIP, also I'm bad at lyrics. Feel free to comment or reshare with additions.)

Veronica: Things will get better, soon as my letter, comes from Harvard, Duke or Brown. Wake from this coma, take my diploma, then I can blow this town.

VV

Xisuma: Things will get better, soon as my letter, comes from damn SMP Live. Wake from this nightmare, no longer have to care, then I can leave these guys.

(Tomcat)

Heather C: Mascara maybe some lip gloss, now we're on our way.

VV

Tango: Leave the helmet, come on let's see you- oh you're kinda cute.

(Tomcat)

Heather M: Course if you don't care, fine, go braid her hair. Maybe Sesame Street is on.

VV

Zedaph: Course if that's your schtick, fine, go suck his dick. Maybe get the gay pornos on.

(Tomcat)

The Plot:

It's the start of Season N. Xisuma's getting tired of being admin and has secretly planned this to be his last season on the server. His plan is to join SMP Live once it's all over. His friend Joe Hills (they've been friends since season 1) asks X if he's free to hang out after the recording day is over. X is like 'yeah, sure bud! :D' and Scar and Cub start bullying both of them.

Some time passes and X is chilling in an area he's not meant to be in. Team ZIT is also there and a hermit who isn't the owner of the area says 'hey? Are you allowed to be there?' Xisuma pulls out a fake I.O.U and says 'yeah, we have permission.' The hermit leaves and Team ZIT take an interest in Xisuma. They let him join team ZIT. (Beautiful.)

Meanwhile, The Vexes are leaving for about a week or so. Cub and Scar decide to hold a 'welcome to the new season!' Party at their base and invite Team ZIT+X. Tango peer pressures Xisuma into making a fake invitation to Joe Hills for the banter and Xisuma does it. (Candy Store.)

Anyway, Xisuma stumbles across Evil X winning in PVP against Cub and Scar. (Fight For Me.) After Cub and Scar either die or retreat (or both,) Xisuma says hello to Evil X and strikes up a conversation. Evil X is sad because everyone thinks he's evil and he has no friends. Xisuma apologises to him for treating him too harshly and banning him whenever he comes online and they become friends. (Freeze Your Brain.)

The Convex throw their party. Xisuma gets drunk and throws up on Tango's foot or something and Tango is ticked off. Tango's gonna PVP him and or grief his base, whichever takes ya fancy. (Big Fun.)

Xisuma goes to Evil X and climbs in through his window. They just hang out and play games all night and get to know each other better. Evil X suggests on kicking Tango out the server for threatening to grief Xisuma's base. Xisuma isn't sure about that initally but he eventually around. (Dead Girl Walking.)

The two go to Tango's base and offer him suspicious stew. Tango gets poisoned from it and Evil X 'jokingly' punches him and kills him. Xisuma bans him before he can respawn.

Xisuma writes a goodbye note to the server from Tango saying he's leaving. Nobody suspects Xisuma actually banned him. (Me Inside Of Me.)

After that kerfuffle, Scar and Cub go and try to get Xisuma to buy stuff from them. Xisuma keeps telling them to shove off as he can't leave as he's working on a build. Eventually, he gives up and goes to vent to Evil X. (Blue but the lyrics are so changed it's not even the same song.) Evil X suggests pranking Scar and Cub to get them back. Xisuma says okay and sends a message down the communicator saying 'hey, okay, maybe I do wanna buy from you. I'll give you 10 diamonds for (insert item) if you meet me in the shopping district behind Mumbo's shop at sundown.'

Anyway, Xisuma meets with Cub and Scar at sun down. He starts stalling because he didn't actually bring any diamonds. Evil X snipes Cub. Scar tries to run away. His communicator buzzes and he realises Cub was banned. He says he 'doesn't understand' and starts crying because Evil X 'banned his best friend.' Evil X kills and bans Scar too. Xisuma's like 'why'd you ban them? How did you ban them?'

Evil X explains he can ban people and always could but only in the window between being dead and respawning, hence why he always wanted to PVP everyone. Evil X forces Xisuma to write leaving notes for Scar and Cub. He doesn't care what's on it, just put the blame on them. Xisuma remembers that Tango was Cub and Scar's best customer so he says that they'd been planning to leave for a while but Tango leaving was the last straw. (Our Love Is God. But it's not because they're just friends.)

Xisuma tries to talk Evil X out of banning anyone else. Evil X feigns it working. (Seventeen)

Meanwhile, Zedaph is having a hard time trying to cope with Tango leaving. He's just finishing up a build and is mumbling to himself about how he's gonna leave the server once it's done. Xisuma catches him and encourages him to stay. Zedaph stays. (Lifeboat and Shine A Light Reprise.)

Joe tries to leave too due to Scar and Cub leaving. He actually does for a bit but is convinced by Xisuma over discord to come back. (Kindergarten.)

Xisuma starts getting worried about his plans to leave the server. He's beginning to realise that he's basically the glue holding this server together considering the fact that people have started to want to leave. (Yo Girl.)

Xisuma hides in his base to have his mental breakdown meanwhile Evil X is outside telling him about how he's going to destroy the server (ASMR.) Xisuma uses commands to make it look like he's left the server. Evil X falls for it and goes to nuke the server. (Meant To Be Yours.)

Xisuma goes to hunt down Evil X. Xisuma finds him in a big hole filled with TNT under the shopping district. Evil X monologues for a bit and Xisuma tries to ban him. It doesn't work. Apparently Evil X swapped their roles in the server, making it so that Evil X can ban people without killing them and X can only ban people during the 'dead but not respawned' window. Xisuma and Evil X PVP for a bit and Xisuma slays Evil X. (Dead Girl Walking Reprise.) Xisuma comes out the hole and Evil X sets off the TNT anyway. Evil X dies and Xisuma bans him. (I Am Damaged.)

Anyway, Xisuma, Joe and Zedaph become friends, the end. (Seventeen Reprise.)

[cynicalrainbows]

Inner Voice

So this is Chapter One of a fic written for @saria-malinas for the @six-gifts-exchanges.

Prompt was Kitty & fluff.

Admittedly, I tend towards the view that fluff can only be fluff is there’s some angst to make it soft so...perhaps not to everyone’s liking but hopefully enjoyable anyhow!

It’s a LOT longer than I intended but I’ve enjoyed writing it very much- it’s been a nice distraction!

TW for negative thought spirals and references to emotional abuse.

It begins with an interview- a Sunday interview, no less.

She doesn’t look forward to it- she’s exhausted. 

An eight-show week is hard enough but having to sacrifice her one day off on the altar otherwise known as ‘Publicity’ will, she knows, leave her running on empty and the thought of having to immediately jump back into the old cycle on Monday morning- without the benefit of her usual recharge day- makes her feel like she’s having weights piled on her shoulders.

(She still agrees, of course.)

Sundays are usually a day to revel in doing things that would be impossible on show days.

 Cathy stays up until a ridiculous hour writing on Saturday nights and then spends Sunday following patches of sunlight around the house in which to curl up with whatever she happens to be reading.

 Kitty has taken to glancing at the titles and week by week, they’re never the same, there’s never a pattern: Middlemarch one week, The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo the next, Plato’s Republic, Sula, The Hunger Games, Trainspotting, Boswell’s History of Johnson, Finding Nemo: The Official Novelisation… Once, Cathy caught her looking and opened her mouth, but whether she meant to scold or welcome, Kitty never found out, escaping into the kitchen before Cathy had a chance to speak. 

Catalina gets up early and goes to hear Mass and usually ends up back at the house around lunchtime. Kitty isn’t entirely sure where she goes- sometimes she comes back with a Starbucks cup (Green tea, always), sometimes with shopping bags, but more often, she comes back just as she left, empty handed. 

She finds it difficult to imagine what Catalina might do to relax, honestly- she’s a queen in every sense, just as regal and composed and thus terrifying in the 21st century as Kitty imagines she must have been during the 16th.

Jane goes on walks to places that sell felt and buttons and ribbons, and then listens to the radio- in the garden when the weather is nice, in the living room when it isn’t- while flowers and birds and fruit bloom beneath her fingertips. 

Whatever embroidery project she’s working on, she manages to make it look easy. Sometimes she even sews with her eyes shut, the better to take in whatever she’s listening to- sometimes music, but more often, it’s chapter books read by people with calm, slow voices, poetry that flows so easily it’s almost musical. 

Once, back in the very early days, when all was spiky and uncomfortable, when they were all still raw from the fallout of their old lives and picking over the old rivalries, Anne had muttered that Jane listened to spoken books so much because she couldn’t read properly. 

It was only the three of them in the room at the time- Kitty wasn’t sure if she was meant to have heard or not. She wasn’t even able to tell whether Anne was serious. 

Jane had pretended not to pick up on it, only the slight pinkening of her ears betraying her...that, and the fact that she stopped listening to audiobooks in the communal areas, taking them instead to the privacy of her room. 

Anne had apologised, in her own way (a stack of newly-purchased audiobooks left outside Jane’s door early one morning a week later, with a bar of Galaxy and a green post it note stuck to the top of the pile that Kitty read when she stumbled down the hall for water at 5am: ‘Sorry I was a total bitch. Love A x’) but Kitty has never been able to find the courage to bring the issue up with Jane herself. 

Even if she was braver, she has no idea how she’d even begin to approach something so sensitive, but still, she wishes she could find the words to say that it’s ok, that she understands how it feels to struggle, that she’d never ever think less of Jane for it, that she still admires Jane’s ability to face all catastrophes calmly and without raising her voice and that, in her (admittedly limited experience), this ability is far rarer and far more precious than any amount of literary talent.

They’re words she’ll never be able to say, she knows, but sometimes, she wonders what would happen if she followed the woman into the garden, the kitchen and just sat herself down at Jane’s feet to listen along with her and watch her sew in quiet companionship…. The imagination never goes further than that- she won’t let it. 

Imaginings left to run wild can be dangerous, she knows.

Anne’s day-off plans are as unpredictable as she is- sometimes she takes herself to the library and sometimes to the skate park, sometimes to a museum and sometimes to a bar, and she seems to relish all equally, at least as far as Kitty’s judgement goes. 

Having never actually accompanied Anne on any of her trips, she bases her judgement on the level of enthusiasm in Anne’s voice when she makes her customary exit: a shouted ‘Bye, I’m going to the-’, followed by a slam of the door hard enough to make the whole house tremble (and twice loud enough to awaken a sun-warmed Cathy from one of her book-naps). 

If Kitty is in the vicinity, Anne will sometimes look at her intently as she says her goodbyes making eye contact so intensely she forgets to blink. She cannot tell if it’s an invitation or an attempt to telepathically dissuade Kitty from asking to join her, and not being entirely certain (or even a little bit certain) of the former, she decides it’s the latter. 

(It’s safer that way.)

She doesn’t hold the lack of any actual invitation against Anne though.

 She wouldn’t invite herself anywhere either, and it’s not like she’s made any overtures of friendship to her ‘cousin’ in their new life. 

(Honestly, she isn’t sure how she’d even begin.)

So….. she can’t complain.

Anna is the only queen she’s ever shared a Sunday with, the only queen she’s even close to feeling comfortable around. Anna’s the only one she knew before, the only one she has any right to lay claim to.

Not only did she know her, but they were friends- actual friends, acknowledged as such not only by Anna herself but by the historians too (even if their reporting of some events is unreliable at best and complete fabrication at worst).

Because of this, she makes sure to be extra careful about monitoring how long she imposes on Anna for, how much she forces her company upon her. 

She never seeks her out, she always waits for Anna to come to her- and oddly, she finds she never has to wait too long before Anna’s checking in on her again, asking if she wants company, if she wants to walk to the shop, the park, if she wants to join Anna on an errand, on a run. 

It’s the last one that means she never sees much of Anna on Sundays- Sunday is Anna’s day to do the sort of long runs that she enjoys, to spend as much time as the gym or pool or climbing wall as she’d like. 

She can’t bring herself to let Anna go without the activities that mean so much to her by taking her up on Anna’s suggestion that they spend Sunday doing something different….and as she can’t swim, doesn’t enjoy running and doesn’t even know how you’d go about scaling a climbing wall, she declines all of Anna’s invitations to come with her and have a go herself. 

(Anna doesn’t need her holding her back, spoiling her fun.)

Once or twice, admittedly, she finds herself thinking back to the Anna of their old life and the unending patience she showed with the maids-in-waiting (Kitty included) who struggled on horseback. She remembers Anna’s calm reassurance that she was doing ‘very well, for a beginner, liebling’, she remembers Anna’s beaming smile whenever any of them plucked up the courage to take their horse into a canter, her gentle words of praise. ‘That was wonderful, you looked so much more confident!’.

It makes her wonder, for a moment, if perhaps Anna isn’t just asking out of pity or duty but because she really would enjoy showing Kitty how to enjoy the swimming- or the running or the climbing- for its own sake. 

But only for a moment.

Time and time again, she turns Anna down. Time and time again, Anna keeps asking, but Kitty knows she’s bound to stop soon.

(For some reason, she dreads it.)

This Sunday though, she doesn’t spend at home- alone or otherwise. Rather than her normal routine of sleeping in and enjoying the lack of interruption, she spends it getting up even earlier than usual, then taking a bus and another bus and then a train to the interview meeting point.

The interview room has greeny-blue industrial carpet with a cigarette burn by her foot that her eyes keep drifting to  as she talks. Through the crooked blinds, the sun shines enticingly, teasing her as it pulls out the shadows longer and longer, as minute by minute her precious day off ticks away.

‘-and how would you describe the show?’

She takes a sip of the coffee that she accepted out of politeness- lukewarm and stale tasting.

‘It’s a chance for us to tell our side of the story- it’s a revision of the accepted version of events. Anyone who likes history, anyone who is into feminist narratives should see it.’

She tries to keep her voice enthusiastic- reporters, she knows, can be so quick to read an inflection as a ‘tone’, a muffled yawn as ‘arrogance’.

‘And focusing a little more on you- you were the fifth wife?’

‘That’s right.’

‘The second wife beheaded-’

A nod- professional, adult.

‘And by all accounts...the only wife actually at fault for the ending of the marriage?’

She’s taken back by the calm, smiling audacity.

‘Excuse me?’

‘All the other wives- their marriages ended because of rumours, back-biting, boredom, lust….and yet, yours was simple infidelity?’

She bites her lip.

Don’t cry. Don’t cry.

‘I think….that’s the sort of harmful narrative we try to confront in the show.’

‘But you would have stayed married, if it wasn’t for the affair?’

Breathe.

‘I think… Henry would have tired of me, one way or another. He would have been rid of me eventually, even without-’

‘But you were found guilty, weren’t you?’

‘I…. By the court, yes.’ She swallows hard. Her voice isn’t shaking, that’s a start.

‘And beheaded. At such a young age- you’re also the youngest wife.’

‘I am.’

‘How has that affected how you’re treated, do you think? Is it useful to you?’

‘Useful?’

‘Do you think that things are made easier for you because of it?’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Oh-’ The interviewer waves a hand laden with rings. ‘The stage persona you’ve adopted….the ‘babey’ persona, I believe fans are calling it? The faux-innocence? I think what we’re all interested in knowing is- how much of it is an act? How much of it is YOU and how much is just a way to get what you want?’

‘I’m- well….’ She’s struggling. 

An act? It was a persona, of course it was- they’d all carefully chosen the ‘character’ they wanted to be onstage- but was there more to it than that too? Was she really just trying to manipulate the others by playing up her youth?

‘They’re all partly who we really are but I didn’t-’

It’s harder to keep her voice steady now- the second interviewer, silent until now, interrupts to suggest they all take a break and resume in half an hour.

As she’s getting up, she fumbles with her coat and nearly drops it.

‘It’s alright, you know.’

The first interviewer is still watching her, a mug of the horrible tasting coffee halfway to her mouth.

‘I- I’m sorry?’

‘You don’t need to keep the act up. We’re moving on like you wanted, no need for overkill.’

‘What?’

‘You could have just SAID you weren’t comfortable answering. No need to turn on the waterworks.’

The woman pulls a pack of cigarettes and a lighter from her bag and makes for the exit leading to the carpark: Kitty is left at the table, alone, confused, a little scared.

A voice in her head: ‘Manipulative whore- do you think I can’t see what you’re up to-’

She’d hoped she’d never have to hear that voice again.

[saphiratotheotherside]

Fear, Reality & Fantasy

Fear, Reality & Fantasy

I thrive in three different dimensions. In fear, reality & fantasy. It varies in color, from black to grey, to rainbow skies. And if being honest the one I tend to lose touch with the most is the second.

Fear is when you fall in the rabbit hole. Self-loathing misery. Ruins of a heart and brain that smells of decaying bullets. Fear is believing in apocalyptic nightmares on a daily basis. Dripping blood on the pavement, that comes from windowsills. Fear is alienation, repetitive voices, stubbornness. Fear is a castle made of doubts, rooms made of 4 big white walls, supposed to protect you. Fear is an illusion that exists once you’ve allowed it in. The vilain, the bully, the flame that could burn your whole house and village just because you let the door opened to the hostile fellow. Fear is a ghost that followed you that you’ve decided to romanticise. Fear is loneliness and certainty of mis-opportunities, mis-communication, mis-calculation — a mis-leading mis-adventure. Fear is lingering visions of death. It’s suffering quietly in your head space, translating into shivers, sweat and sleepless nights. Fear is trust issues, enemies and no one to understand you. Fear is the ugly and sad, an angry dirt. A stain. 

Reality is when you allow the pain to sink in, so as you feel what's been tormenting you, you’re also able to catch all the love from the people around you, being there when most needed.

Reality is when you accept the imperfect. The truth which you're so scared of. Without judgment. 

Reality is when you allow people to reject you, to not be on the same page, to not be able to reciprocate, understand or apologise. Again accepting that other people are also struggling at being a functioning human being. Reality is when you see it for what it is. With the highs and lows. The glorious days and the darker ones, that even if dark as fuck will never withdraw any of us from our desire to be loved and warm. Reality is that you are not at the centre of the universe and that everyone is experiencing reality in a slightly different way. That everyone is going through something. Either that is pain or joy. So reality is something that we experience together even though through different myriads eyewear. 

Fantasy oh fantasy. My favorite of all. Fantasy is colorful, sensual and tasty it's living in a world of song, painting and poetry. Fantasy is bathing in a soft bliss, like the first morning of Spring in South of France or anywhere warm. Fantasy is love and adoration for everything that is. It's euphoria and laughter, it's visions and illusions that are so tangible in the world of dreams. Fantasy is feeling alive when horny for every moment that is to come.

[jamesdazell]

Un Monstre Sacré

Un Monstre Sacré

ART AND REPRESENTATION

(2019)

Enamorado de ti, de tu vida y de lo que quieres.

- Frida Kahlo

1

   I’m tired of reconsiderig my story in the mind of the idealism of present fashionable criticism.

  Concentrate on what you have to say and the images which manifest themselves to you. Stories are more than their features, their meaning runs much deeper than its costume. Consider the representation and diveristy only if it tells your story better, makes your characters explore their themes better, adds to their own story. You can make whatever art you want to make. No matter if it goes against the idealisms of the day. Idealisms come and go, the whole of art history shows us, but no one has the right to shut down your own stories and interpretation of life that you need to express. We’re running close to a prescribed imagination, not a free one, where the manifesto is a total and political movement, not an arts movement. Full of ideals but not ideas. Right now its like the Puritanical movement, if not a bonfire of vanities, against those who transgress the ideals of the day. Make whatever art that has been revealed to you to make. Make art with whatever great inspiration you had to make it and do not apologise for how it is manifested.

  Your imagination is a cerebral reflex. Don’t apologise or criticise it for not representing the ideals of the movements of the day. I’m not bothered about representation in art as I think it goes against the whole job of art.

  Artists and writers are representations of the cultural history of their time (they're not the only that, but even that is informative about the time). Not everything about them is going to be golden, maybe everything will be bad taste and bad intelligence. But in any case, it is far far more important think with them as if in conversation and disucssion. Their purpose is to stimulate thought not to emboss on it on the minds who receive it.  To be honest it seems clear why the Bibles were so effective. Most people want to be told what to think and to have their own thoughts amplified back at them, they want to have something celebrate them, and to rise up in significance by celebration.

  No matter where or who the work comes from, I wouldn't favour anyone for their cultural representation but for the talent and ideas their work carries. Great work is recognisible immediately. It affects on a cross-cultural level. I'm always looking to become foreign to myself, both in culture and time. The act of de-culturising seem more to the task than to represent it. Foreignness might illuminate and ignite dormant aspects within me that my own culture may not. So it is better to be in conversation than to outright reject, because it mattered, and if it mattered enough to be remembered and preserved, and to be copied (often by hand) through the centuries or ever just the last hundred years, then it probably meant something on a deeper level that is beyond their cultural representations, into a deeper part of humanity, whether the good or bad side. So through them we can understand ourselves.

  The purpose of representative writers is more needed by institutions and publishers etc but in artist's work the aim ought to be to dissolve those differences and to find the human being in experiences and the stories we tell. Like Susan Sontag said in conversation with John Berger about story-telling, she doesnt need to be a Russian man in Russia, or even feel like one, to read Tolstoy. And any reading of it in that way would be a superficial reading. That's not what’s on offer in a work of that magnitude. Likewise to quesiton whether the lead in a story is a man or a woman. It doesn't matter in itself. It only matters to the dramatic nature of the story. There are so many possible ways to unravel a narrative, that the lead doesn't signify anything but a focus. The lead could be positive or negative traits, the purpose of a lead could be celebratory or negation. The point is the same as ever. To tell great stories.

   It annoys me when people say how sexist Japan is (and it always comes from the Anglosphere who have a terrible time of seeing themselves as they are). When Japan has such a great history of female lead characters (and female charaters in general) who are both heroic and admirable, that Japan should rather be an inspiration for telling female lead stories more than the west's tradition. What representative writing is doing (though is not saying) is suggesting that certain ideas and arts belong to different races, genders, sexualities. There are certainly particular experiences only certain people will be able to tell, but then you run in the problem that certain races, genders, sexualities, are supposed to tell stories in a certain stereotyped way because it represents them. Take class for instance; that a working class writer is supposed to write about working class life and in a stereotypical way. It makes no sense but to write with and read it with your own humanity. That is the point of reading and writing, to reengage with our humanity. Hemmingway innovated, but that style doesn't belong to his race and sexuality. At the end of the day, no matter how representative, all you're doing is telling a story and or making an artistic choice, and it needs to be coming from your deeper humanity, that dissovles boundaries and shows there isn't a difference between us. I don't believe there is necesarily homosexual art anymore than homosexual science. The purpose isn't to write autobiography. I would never begin to think of Lorca's poetry as a homosexual perspective. His poetry is universal, he transgressed those social, political, cultural representations. He dissolved as he defied them: as a human being. He humiliated them as he transgressed representation. He became everyone, on everyone's essential journey, a primordial everyone. That rather seems the ambition and the proper task. So, I can never see the seduction in representational writing.  Art’s very purpose is to liberate ourselves from the privilege of an authorial stance of representation. To dissolve differential representation back into a unity of a human being. To reveal, from the cultural political delusion, the communalness and universals of our being human.

2

   Characters exist to embody a theme to tell a story, they define their character by decisions and actions they make. Without that they would be autonomous, independant from the story, representing exactly what they are for the sake of being. We have a name for that: reality TV. Reality TV as the fulfillment of modern dramatic theory; the most naturalistic, identifiable, devised, post dramatic, audience participation, theatrical entertainment one can imagine, unfolding in real time along the lines of life without the logic of narratives.

   Turn on the TV and Reality TV is there either as the news, people eating, people dating, people’s jobs, people’s cultural aspirations, or people selling things on the market. A frieze of national life as an interactive game show. We even now demand that fictional characters are played by their representative real life identity. Reality TV is all people really want. Real life stories about real life people, played by real life people for real life people. There is no question who the ideal character is. Theres no point in having idealistic characters, because they have nothing to learn. They are in themsevles a fulfilment. What journey do they have to go through. What themes are they able to explore.  Reality is more conplex than there being good people whose attitudes we like and bad people whose attitudes we don't.

  Characters are representations of themes, they help explore themes. If the themes and meaning of the story is good, then the characters will be good. Then the representation will be justified. What matters is from how a deep an instinct, an interpretation, if for lack of a better word a soul the story sprung from.

3

Progressives in art: I always find progressives in arts, especially those who outright reject the past, to be a continuation of that same spirit, which they are sadly too ignorant to have perceived. It was rather that they have found a different expression, maybe a more honest expression of the same spirit. And the very idea that it was able to seem progressive was because the culture had changed underneath. That it was this time and not another. In in the final analysis of their progressiveness you see they were bondaged to the time their lived in that it hardly seems a progressive act at all but one that was merely an expressive of prevailing conscience of the time that had erupted in a few people. But there is no such thing as progess in the arts. Every activity in art is the art of a human or a group of humans. Their life is its own condition within a certain set of condiitons. They are representative only of the condition it was made. Their lifespan cannot be compared to the life of another in terms of progress. Neither has art a goal to measure progress upon. And if it did, are we further towards a goal now than in any earlier time? And any possible yes, then an earlier time must have had the same goal as the progressors in art to.... I give up. There is no progress in art. Everything is a representation merely of a human being, the community, or the age that it was made it, each with its own values and ideas that belong to being a human being, not the progress of human beings. For in fact nothing in humanity progresses, because the measurement of progress itself depends on parameters of leaning towards or away from our values, which can only be a subjective axiom.

  Anything "progressive" means an old aspiration conducted more openly and honestly; which appeals to all subterranean risings; perhaps a crisis which for a long time has been in conflict with a masterful way which, to the subterranean, now seems simply an old fashioned idealism. But it is only a re-expression. Even the masterful way was really their way but unfaithful to its condition. Whatever becomes progressive is merely a more honest approach, a step towards being more faithful to its impetus condition. Progress is a condition striving to express itself more honetly and value itself more openly. "Improvement" is arbitrary to the matter.

  Popular culture is often more conservative than so-called elite culture because it reflects a caricature of the general public, and so isn't intellectual curious or demanding enough to be ahead of the curve by the ideas it embodies. It perpetuates old ideals in flashy new colours.

   Now we're surrounded by ordinariness masking itself as extraordinary. The ordinary is no longer embarrassed before itself. It has even become critical of the extraordinary. Instead of being humbled by the great achievements of the past we are arrogant even before the future.

People now have so little historical minds. All those who want to break from the past are always the most ignorant of it. Art right now lacks an intellectual energy that has soaked up the intellectual thought of humanity and can say "this is an intelligent thought in 2020 that on its own merit could be in conversation with the thoughts past and knows where it would be placed in the lineage.” However, people are having anti-intellectual ahistorical attiudes. People are attacking history for not being diverse in cultural representation, are attacking the best minds for not being their Jesus figure of imitation, and have great disbelief in things which they cannot do themselves. There is no genius that belonged to this race or that, or this religion but not that, or this gender or that. We talk of them because of what they had done, and what that meant to the time, and to us, and that we dont talk about some of the people worth talking about is an historical expression of the time. There are many clever people, many talents, but the genius is the humanity within it, that they transgressed their “character” into something more fundamental either about ourselves or the world around us. That they dissolved their cultural and political position, and became a human being.

  However, people are now saying the literature canon needs revision. Kafka said on how to choose a book that literature should be the axe that smashes the frozen ice within you. Discover your books that mean the wrold to you. Read whatever you want, but don’t read a canon. Read whatever makes your heart beat, your breathing clearly, what positively changes your brain, and makes you feel at home in their words. Any really great writer will ascend beyond what they are. Discovering art should not be deprived to us. And we should not expect children to admire the artists and writers they were taught about at school, no matter if it is revised. These schooled artists will always be those artists they had to study and do homework on. On rarely will they become the artists they love.

  I dont think we should revise anything. An education is not being taught what to learn, its discovering your own thoughts. And real educatioin isn’t like stacking knowledge up in a warehouse but mixing wine in to water, it alters the whole composition. Being knowledgable is knowing more things - there are game shows for that - a real eduation requires much forgetting. We should be far more encouraging of independent guided learning. School should help develop general characteristics of the brain. The Greeks had their nine canonical of poets, the japanese had 36 inmortals of poetry (one for men and women). They dont have to be our favourites. No one has robbed you of that choice. But these canons tell us about the way people thought at a time. And no time, no matter how blind by its idealism can be, no time is the truth and end of a conversation. It is easy to look back and dismiss it, to avoid the harder choice of measuring up to its cultural affect.

   Every artistic decision has a psychologically relative world view. Artistic choices are reflexes. In art (rather in everything) nothing is purely theoretical. Everything is fully representational of your conditional perspective, and feeling of existence. You always have to wind it back to that. Everything else is a secondary effect. Ideas and attitudes are just reflexes. An art cannot be a definition of its form, but only of the condition of the artist who made it, which subsequently gives us some impression of the age it was made in depending on its context. No painting defines painting, no music can define music, no poem poetry, nor dance dance.

4

  People go to the theatre not to think but to see a caricature of their own views, executed with the technique of a children's toy commercial. Showing them everything they love. Now people read books this way too. In valuing books, people only want to see themselves reflected in them. Even when great books are in vogue, they choose to read them because they already know what they are about and going to say and they finish with the same mind as they had begun reading them.  People read 1984 because they already know what it is about, and what it is going to say. Most people simply want to amplify their own point of view.

  Right now stories are like a dramatised op-ed article, featurig their token selling point of diversity, with critics acting as the puritanical bonfire of transgressions of the ideals of the day. But the game is the same as always: to make incredible stories. To interpret life artistically. You have to research in order to find the right symbols for your work. Like going through layers and layers and doors and doors but you keep running into the same symbols. For a visual culture were actually really bad a symbols.

  So you have an idea, fine, but thats not enough, you have to be able to pull it off in the form of a great story. Its not enough just to say youre against something and that you made your work from an ideal. You have to tell great stories, or make great performances. Our story telling is becoming conceptual where the idea behind it is supposed to mean more than the actual merit of the work of art. Which shows our minds are becoming conceptual, less artistic, and more scientific. The concentration on the technique of great arts, of all great arts and great artists, is an insight and experience of reality much higher than that of science.

5

   There has been an increase in melodrama this century. All American television and film (that wasn’t but somewhat including the Marvel / DC films)  seems to have been melodrama (of course French cinema, and independant, has been for longer - its their penchant). Melodrama is sadistic. Its full of pathetic characters who if they werent so pathetic they wouldn't be in this mess. If not of their own fault then they deal with it in a pathetic way. The effect on me is not pity but frustration, like watching a sympathetic horror movie. Sympathy is a sin in art. It makes your characters pathetic and all i can think whilst watching them is if they werent so patheric they wouldnt be in this mess and this wouldnt be a story. If a solution is befitting and negates its whole existence, the idea of the story is bad. Its not their circumstance, its the sympathy that is requested. Melodrama is sadistic - and this is coming from a guy obsessed with Greek tragedy. Euripides wrote melodrama, he wrote romanticism, satyr play, and tragi-comedy, but Euripides did not write tragedy. Character drama/study is always melodrama because it depends on the investigation of the 'soul' the innermost of them. Tragedy is concerned with overarching events that reveal the religious (Dionysian - most closely today related to Shiva that they’re almost the same) nature of the universe, people as agents of action, but not people as characters.

6

  Art can be whatever.  Yes. But don't just go with your instincts like an amateur. You have to understand the meaning of choices, in order to change your instincts. To make your instincts artistic. Otherwise there's no difference between you and your audience. And you don't take them anywhere than they arrived. 

    Then there is the insistance on “accessibility” which can be unhealthy because it rejects the high bar and creates stereotypes of styles. It creates new idealism in the character of the work. And it gives marit of accomplishment just for showing up. Make accessibility wide but on the same basis of making great art In respect and recognition of where the high bar is set.

7

   The worth of a book, music, film today is merely judged by how much it is needed at the time it arrives. The public and the critic have the judgement of the tradesman weighing cattle at the market, as they estimate everything merely for value of supply and demand.

Frida Kahlo "I dont give a shit what the world thinks"

   Critics and social media seem to be having their own insular conversation and they go to movies or listen to music or whatever and judge it on how much they can continue to have that conversation whilst experiencing the work of art, which cannot exist on the merits of its own.

   Majoritism is to anoit bad taste and bad talent over good. To put amateurs in charge. I think less educated and amateur care much more about it.

"There is one good opinion which must always be of consequence to you, namely, your own." R. W. Emerson

  Social media has created the method audience. Instead of the method actor disagreeing with the director over the way a character is portrayed its the audience. Or maybe they feel themselves executive producers. But certainly anything but an audience. They complain as if theyve been forced to pay at gun point.

  The idealism our age has just put a chip on people's shoulder and given all a licence to have an attitude about everything. The opinions of the public dont matter, thats why they feel their deep rights to have them. I'm not an audience first type of artist. The public come to market, and the market sways, but it has no reigns on the artistic activity that has travelled further in its pursuit of ideas than they may have ever been. To make a work of art involves obliterating and exhausting oneself, in pursuit of techniques and ideas that inform the works direction and merit, and reassembling oneself. To dicard that for the public who come to market and place it on the weighing scale of ideals is a joke.

  Plesse be rude, derogatory, offensive, insensitive. Its a cruelest humanity that sacrifices its cruelty. It's against our nature. The 21st century is the conservative 40s and 50s, with the yuppies of the 80s, that overturned the free spiritedness of the 20s and 30s, 60s and 70s.

8

  Make whatever goddamn work you want to make, and that will be the work you made. Just be proud to have manifested what you had envisioned in whatever form you wanted to tell it and be proud it has your name attached to it. And dont take criticism from those who do not inspire you.. Being an artist is to be your own beast. Un monstre sacré.

[iamliberalartsgt]

Why ‘worthless’ humanity degrees may set you up for life

Original Article by Amanda Ruggeri

http://www.bbc.com/capital/story/20190401-why-worthless-humanities-degrees-may-set-you-up-for-life

   At university, when I told people I was studying for a history degree, the response was almost always the same: “You want to be a teacher?”. No, a journalist. “Oh. But you’re not majoring in communications?”

   In the days when a university education was the purview of a privileged few, perhaps there wasn’t the assumption that a degree had to be a springboard directly into a career. Those days are long gone.

   Today, a degree is all but a necessity for the job market, one that more than halves your chances of being unemployed. Still, that alone is no guarantee of a job – and yet we’re paying more and more for one. In the US, room, board and tuition at a private university costs an average of $48,510 a year; in the UK, tuition fees alone are £9,250 ($12,000) per year for home students; in Singapore, four years at a private university can cost up to SGD$69,336 (US$51,000).

   Learning for the sake of learning is a beautiful thing. But given those costs, it’s no wonder that most of us need our degrees to pay off in a more concrete way. Broadly, they already do: in the US, for example, a bachelor’s degree holder earns $461 more each week than someone who never attended a university.

   But most of us want to maximise that investment – and that can lead to a plug-and-play type of approach to higher education. Want to be a journalist? Study journalism, we’re told. A lawyer? Pursue pre-law. Not totally sure? Go into Stem (science, technology, engineering and maths) – that way, you can become an engineer or IT specialist. And no matter what you do, forget the liberal arts – non-vocational degrees that include natural and social sciences, mathematics and the humanities, such as history, philosophy and languages.

   This has been echoed by statements and policies around the world. In the US, politicians from Senator Marco Rubio to former President Barack Obama have made the humanities a punch line. (Obama later apologised). In China, the government has unveiled plans to turn 42 universities into “world class” institutions of science and technology. In the UK, government focus on Stem has led to a nearly 20% drop in students taking A-levels in English and a 15% decline in the arts.

   But there’s a problem with this approach. And it’s not just that we’re losing out on crucial ways to understand and improve both the world and ourselves – including enhancing personal wellbeing, sparking innovation and helping create tolerance, among other values.

   It’s also that our assumptions about the market value of certain degrees – and the “worthlessness” of others – might be off. At best, that could be making some students unnecessarily stressed. At worst? Pushing people onto paths that set them up for less fulfilling lives. It also perpetuates the stereotype of liberal arts graduates, in particular, as an elite caste – something that can discourage underprivileged students, and anyone else who needs an immediate return on their university investment, from pursuing potentially rewarding disciplines. (Though, of course, this is hardly the only diversity problemsuch disciplines have).

   Soft skills, critical thinking

   George Anders is convinced we have the humanities in particular all wrong. When he was a technology reporter for Forbes from 2012 to 2016, he says Silicon Valley “was consumed with this idea that there was no education but Stem education”.

   But when he talked to hiring managers at the biggest tech companies, he found a different reality. “Uber was picking up psychology majors to deal with unhappy riders and drivers. Opentable was hiring English majors to bring data to restauranteurs to get them excited about what data could do for their restaurants,” he says.

   “I realised that the ability to communicate and get along with people, and understand what’s on other people’s minds, and do full-strength critical thinking – all of these things were valued and appreciated by everyone as important job skills, except the media.” This realisation led him to write his appropriately-titled book You Can Do Anything: The Surprising Power of a “Useless” Liberal Arts Education.

   Take a look at the skills employers say they’re after. LinkedIn’s research on the most sought-after job skills by employers for 2019 found that the three most-wanted “soft skills” were creativity, persuasion and collaboration, while one of the five top “hard skills” was people management. A full 56% of UK employers surveyed said their staff lacked essential teamwork skills and 46% thought it was a problem that their employees struggled with handling feelings, whether theirs or others’. It’s not just UK employers: one 2017 study found that the fastest-growing jobs in the US in the last 30 years have almost all specifically required a high level of social skills.

   Or take it directly from two top executives at tech giant Microsoft who wrote recently: "As computers behave more like humans, the social sciences and humanities will become even more important. Languages, art, history, economics, ethics, philosophy, psychology and human development courses can teach critical, philosophical and ethics-based skills that will be instrumental in the development and management of AI solutions.

   Of course, it goes without saying that you can be an excellent communicator and critical thinker without a liberal arts degree. And any good university education, not just one in English or psychology, should sharpen these abilities further. “Any degree will give you very important generic skills like being able to write, being able to present an argument, research, problem-solve, teamwork, becoming familiar with technology,” says Dublin-based educational consultant and career coach Anne Mangan.

   But few courses of study are quite as heavy on reading, writing, speaking and critical thinking as the liberal arts, in particular the humanities – whether that’s by debating other students in a seminar, writing a thesis paper or analysing poetry.

   When asked to drill the most job market-ready skills of a humanities graduate down to three, Anders doesn’t hesitate. “Creativity, curiosity and empathy,” he says. “Empathy is usually the biggest one. That doesn’t just mean feeling sorry for people with problems. It means an ability to understand the needs and wants of a diverse group of people.

   “Think of people who oversee clinical drug tests. You need to get doctors, nurses, regulators all on the same page. You have to have the ability to think about what’s going to get this 72-year-old woman to feel comfortable being tracked long term, what do we have to do so this researcher takes this study seriously. That’s an empathy job.”

   But in general, say Anders and others, the benefit of a humanities degree is the emphasis it puts on teaching students to think, critique and persuade – often in the grey areas where there isn’t much data available or you need to work out what to believe. 

   It’s small wonder, therefore, that humanities graduates go on to a variety of fields. The biggest group of US humanities graduates, 15%, go on to management positions. That’s followed by 14% who are in in office and administrative positions, 13% who are in sales and another 12% who are in education, mostly teaching. Another 10% are in business and finance.

   And while there’s often an assumption that the careers humanities graduates pursue just aren’t as good as the jobs snapped up by, say, engineers or medics, that isn’t the case. In Australia, for example, three of the 10 fastest-growing occupations are sales assistants, clerks, and advertising, public relations and sales managers – all of which might look familiar as fields that humanities graduates tend to pursue.

   Meanwhile, Glassdoor’s 2019 research found that eight of the top 10 best jobs in the UK were managerial positions – people-oriented roles that require communication skills and emotional intelligence. (It defined "best" by combining earning potential, overall job satisfaction rating and number of job openings.) And many of them were outside Stem-based industries. The third best job was marketing manager; fourth, product manager; fifth, sales manager. An engineering role doesn’t appear on the list until the 18th slot – below positions in communications, HR and project management.

   One recent study of 1,700 people from 30 countries, meanwhile, found that the majority of those in leadership positions had either a social sciences or humanities degree. That was especially true of leaders under 45 years of age; leaders over 45 were more likely to have studied Stem.

   This isn’t to say that a liberal arts degree is the easy road. “A lot of the people I talked to were five or 10 years into their career, and there was a sense that the first year was bumpy, and it took a while to find their footing,” Anders says. “But as things played out, it did tend to work.”

   For some graduates, the initial challenge was not knowing what they wanted to do with their lives. For others, it was not having acquired as many technical skills with their degree as, say, their IT trainee peers and having to play catch-up after.  

   But pursuing a more vocational degree can come with its own risks too. Not every teenager knows exactly what they want to do with their lives, and our career aspirations often change over time. One UK report found that more than one-third of Brits have changed careers in their lifetime. LinkedIn found that 40% of professionals are interested in making a “career pivot” – and younger people are interested most of all. Focusing on broadly applicable skills like critical thinking no longer seems like such a moon shot when you consider how many different jobs and industries they can be applied to (though for a young person figuring out their career path, it’s true that flexibility also can feel overwhelming).

   Specialized technical skills are important in the job market too. But there are a number of ways to acquire them. “I’m very pro-internships and apprenticeships. We’ve seen that that can directly correlate to you having a more grounded skill base in the workplace,” says career development coach Christina Georgalla.

   “I even advocate that post-university, if you’re not sure, take a year out and instead of going travelling, actually trial doing different internships. Even if it’s the same field but in TV, say, broadcasting versus producing versus presenting, so you can see the difference.”

But what about the other perceived pitfalls – like a higher unemployment rate and lower salaries?

Why broader matters

   It’s true that the humanities come with a higher risk of unemployment. But it’s worth noting that the risk is slighter than you’d imagine. For young people (aged 25-34) in the US, the unemployment rate of those with a humanities degree is 4%. An engineering or business degree comes with an unemployment rate of a little more than 3%. That single additional percentage point is one extra person per 100, such a small amount it’s often within the margin of error of many surveys.

   Salaries aren’t so straightforward either. Yes, in the UK, the top earnings are pulled in by those who study medicine or dentistry, economics or maths; in the US, engineering, physical sciences or business. Some of the most popular humanities, such as history or English, are in the bottom half of the group.

   But there’s more to the story – including that for some jobs, it seems that it’s actually better to start with a broader degree, rather than a professional one.

   Take law. In the US, an undergraduate student who took the seemingly most direct route to becoming a lawyer, judge or magistrate – majoring in a pre-law or legal studies degree – can expect to earn an average of $94,000 a year. But those who majored in philosophy or religious studies make an average of $110,000. Graduates who studied area, ethnic and civilisations studies earn $124,000, US history majors earn $143,000 and those who studied foreign languages earn $148,000, a stunning $54,000 a year above their pre-law counterparts.  

   There are similar examples in other industries too. Take managers in the marketing, advertising and PR industries: those who majored in advertising and PR earn about $64,000 a year – but those who studied liberal arts make $84,000.

   And even while overall salary disparities do remain, it may not be the degree itself. Humanities graduates in particular are more likely to be female. We all know about the gender pay gap, and notable wage disparities persist in the humanities: US men who major in the humanities have median earnings of $60,000, for example, while women make $48,000. Since more than six in 10 humanities majors are women, the gender pay gap, not the degree, may be to blame.

   We also know that as more women move into a field, the field’s overall earnings go down. Given that, is it any wonder that English majors, seven in 10 of whom are women, tend to make less than engineers, eight in 10 of whom are men?

Do what you love

   This is a big part of why there is one major takeaway, says Mangan. Whatever a student pursues in university, it must be something that they aren’t just good at, but they really enjoy.

   “In most areas that I can see, the employer just wants to know that you’ve been to college and you’ve done well. That’s why I think doing something that really interests you is essential – because that’s when you’re going to do well,” she says.

   No matter what, making a degree or career path decision based on average salaries isn’t a good move. “Financial success is not a good reason. It tends to be a very poor reason,” Mangan says. “Be successful at something and money will follow, as opposed to the other way around. Focus on doing the stuff that you love that you’ll be so enthusiastic about, people will want to give you a job. Then go and develop within that job.”

   This speaks to a broader point: the whole question of whether a student should choose Stem versus the humanities, or a vocational course versus a liberal arts degree, might be misguided to begin with. It’s not as if most of us have an equal amount of passion and aptitude for, say, accounting and art history. Plenty of people know what they love most. They just don’t know if they should pursue it. And the headlines most of us see don’t help.

   This is part of why parents and teachers often need to take a step back, Mangan says. “There is only one expert. I’m the expert on me, you’re the expert on you, they’re the expert on themselves,” she says. “And nobody, I really mean nobody, can tell them how to do what they should be doing.”

   Even, it seems, if that means pursuing a “useless” degree – like one in liberal arts.

[its-harrumble]

Jas. M.H., your apologies are accepted. Regarding visual cues when communicating with someone: I understand the difficulty; however, for what it is worth, some people find me quite hard to read in person, so it’s possible that you are not missing out on quite as many visual cues as you may think you are. If ever you are puzzled by something I have said, I invite you to ask for clarification. (1/7) (Yes, really: seven parts. I apologise in advance.) — Eros.

Indeed, the general rule with Tumblr is, “only myself and the rest of the English-speaking world is to know.” I appreciate your eagerness to respect my privacy and your respect for my (strange and possibly unreasonable) boundaries. But please do not distress yourself over the thought of making a mistake: if ever you do ask me a question I am not willing to answer, I shall simply tell you that I am disinclined to answer it. (2/7)

Your question about poetry is perfectly acceptable. Poetry, like all art forms, is a matter of taste; so I cannot recommend ‘good’ poets, if that is what you were expecting: ‘good’ poetry is in the opinion of the reader, & I believe that is how it should be. What I can do is tell you of poets who are my favourites: John Keats, Alfred Tennyson, Rudyard Kipling, “Banjo” Paterson, & Shakespeare. Favourite poems of mine include ‘The Eve Of Saint Agnes’ & ‘La Belle Dame Sans Merci’ by Keats … (3/7)

… ‘Kallunborg Church’ (J. Greenleaf Whittier), ‘Sea Fever’ (J. Masefield), ‘Bedouin Song’ (Bayard Taylor), ‘Lullaby’ (Seumus O’Sullivan), ‘Madeline’ (Tennyson), & ‘The Feet Of The Young Men’ (Kipling). You, in particular, might like Edgar Allan Poe, if you haven’t read him already. I know almost nothing of more modern (post-1960s) or less romantic poetry. My own method for discovering new poems & poets is to read old anthologies, usually obtained from book fairs or second-hand shops, … (4/7)

… and seek more work from the poets whose included poems I particularly like. Thanks to the Internet, it is extremely easy to find poetry of any kind, from almost any author. If you would like to try more modern stuff, a simple Internet search – or Tumblr search – will yield many results. You might be interested in ‘spoken-word poetry’, a modern style in which the performance is as important as the poem itself. … I have a couple of questions for you. Firstly, do you address everyone … (5/7)

… as ‘My Dear [Name]’, or just me? Secondly: why, exactly, do you desire my acquaintance? Marius requested a more private correspondence with me because was curious about this anonymous person who had been talking to him for weeks but about whom he knew nothing: but what is *your* motivation for wishing to talk with me, Jas. M.H.? … Poppy’s acknowledgement is most gracious, & I thank her. Cats are kindred spirits to creatures like myself. You are quite right in that you are a member … (6/7)

… of Poppy’s staff and not her owner: no one *owns* a cat: cats condescend to live with us, and, naturally, in recompense for such favour, we are permitted to tend to their requirements. If ever you care to post pictures of Poppy, I would love to see them. Your replies are not excessive in length, unless you feel that they are. I do not find them over-long: I take it as a compliment. Having said that: please accept my apologies, again, for this unwieldy 7-part message! (7/7) — Eros.

MY DEAR EROS - No apologies necessary for your most welcome message, whether it be in 7-parts or no! We appear to be of the same mind; I, too, find the length of your reply enormously complimentary. Given how Spartan most of my written (digital or otherwise) communication usually is with most people on a daily basis, the act of writing at length, let alone to receive a response at length, is something of a rare pleasure for me.

I  shall make good note of your advice. Thus far I think I have fully comprehended what you have written, and I shall take you at your word regarding visual cues. I in no way see (pardon the expression) the lack of visual cues as an impediment; you write not only well, but in such a way that I understand. Which may seem a trivial and trifling thing to mention, but I am often at a loss as to what people mean (usually because what has been written has not been written well at all, i.e., missing vital information, vaguer-y, dangling participles etc.). I definitely don’t mean that as a snobbish observance; the remark comes from having to experience the confusion/bedlam that ensues (especially amongst groups of people) all too often from a lack of clear, unambiguous communication. You, My Dear Eros, are a far cry from the aforementioned.

‘Good’ was definitely a poor choice of word on my part (Fie! For shame!). Thank you for your recommendations. I have made a note of your particular favourites in Mercury and shall pop into one of the local bookstores or library at some point, hopefully before the week is out. I am familiar with Poe, although I haven’t read anything of his since I watched Vincent Price’s “An Evening of Edgar Allan Poe“, which I found most diverting. I had considered anthologies, as some have made gifts of them to me in the past, such as perhaps The Oxford Book of English Verse, but that was my only (rather lacking) inspiration. I have seem some performances of spoken word poetry, and it was marvellous! One of my friends, Vincent, writes and performs his own and it’s rather riveting how he whips the crowd into a frenzy via his words and performance. I’ve always left his spoken word poetry performances brilliantly energised; it’s quite an experience!

Ah! Regarding your first question: I address almost everyone that I know in a similar, although not exactly the same, manner. For some it’s “My dear fellow…”, for others it’s “My dear friend…”, and for the rest there’s “Darling…”, “Dear…”, “Dearest…”, “Honey Lamb…”, “Angel Flower…” etc. Some terms of platonic endearment are used expressly for certain individuals (e.g., “Beloved” will always be and mean Anne), while others are used interchangeably and/or freely, sometimes in conjunction with their forename or surname. It’s one of my idiosyncrasies… and I’ve only just come to realise (much to my vexation) that addressing You as such borders on the presumptuously familiar. Please do advise if you’d like me to stop addressing you as such. Regarding your second question: Why do I desire your acquaintance? What is my motivation? Firstly: you were and are a pleasant person. Secondly: I enjoy your writing, and what you have to say, as you’re interesting. You clearly have perspicacity, and I don’t come across many people where I am who possess that. Thirdly: As you summarised me so keenly (and accurately) it crossed my mind that we may share the same interests, and that we may get along. In my chequered existence thus far some of the best things to happen or occur to me have not presented themselves in the most linear fashion (in my experience, they rarely do), so if we are to interact with one another with some terms and conditions I see that as no barrier at all. I haven’t the least intention of challenging your privacy or your boundaries; they are not unreasonable, they are your right, and it is my responsibility to accept them. I apologise if my answers seem flippant. I do mean my answers quite sincerely.

Speaking of Poppy, I will see what I can do. I’m notorious for never recording anything (it just never occurs to me to do so at the time), so I will comb Mercury’s photographic archives to see what I can rustle up on her. I know I’ve taken some photos of her, but goodness only knows how long ago that was. If I can’t find any decent photos, and if I can’t take any decent photos of Poppy, I’ll put up a photo of the framed photo I have of her on my desk in the study.

Would you look at the time? While it may not be a bright cold day in April, the many clocks in my home are striking thirteen midnight and I must retire for the night in order to be up at 06:00AM. I am, regrettably, not a man of leisure with a private income so must hie myself to work again on the morrow. And the morrow is a Thursday. I loathe Thursdays; if anything is going to go awry you can guarantee that, for me, it’ll come to pass on a dreaded Thursday. Wish me luck.

I hope this missive finds you well, and thank you for electing to write me. I don’t believe I’ve ever thanked you for the pleasure of your company, Eros.

As ever, I do remain.

Yr. Obt. Svt.,

James M.H.

[northernwinedregs]

I’ve not been on here in a while. I’ve been in a pretty morbid place that it’s been hard to explain and even harder to pull myself out of. I haven’t been taking care of myself I guess, and whenever that happens I tend to isolate myself. It’s definitely a negative spiral that cannibalises the idea that anybody needs you in their life. 

My point is I apologise for not posting, but also for not replying to everyone’s messages and nice things. I’m going to try to reply to everyone in the coming few days and start writing again soon. For my own sake at least, even if there’s nobody left to read it. 

Between my living in darkness and news of the incoming update to this website, I don’t know how much longer this will last. Not that I’m going anywhere (I’ve had this blog for nearly ten years as I’ve seen it go through so many changes, I don’t know how long-lasting these updates tend to be. That said, I’m a writing blog primarily so hopefully the updates won’t view my writing as nsfw, but you never know) I’ve exported almost a decade of writing, poetry and short stories just in case. I have no idea where I’ll start posting, but I didn’t want to lose it all if it all goes under too quickly. I recommend you do the same: it’d be a shame to lose so many years of great writing. 

Still, I’ve had time to think about what this online writing community means to me. I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not as active as I’d like with other writing blog, but it means a lot to have a space in the world where I can log on to read a lot of incredibly poetry every single day for free. I hope what makes this website so important to me survives moving forwards. 

I guess my second point is that I’d be incredibly sad to lose touch with you. I’ve made some incredibly important friendships on this website, and all of your writing has always been such a huge source of inspiration, hope and courage. If you do decide to move on to another platform, please let me know where you’re going so I keep reading your work. 

Like I said, I’m not going anywhere. But just in case this blog disappears because the new update decides my typewriter font looks too much like a “female-presenting nipple” (and what are the fucking odds they workshopped that phrase for days on end) I just wanted to say how much all of your writing, comments, feedback and friendship have meant to me, and still does. I love you all and hope we can carry on writing here. Having a place to write whatever I want, to get feedback on it, and then to find new inspiration in your words, is probably the only thing that’s kept me getting through. 

[eldritchsurveys]

882.

5k Survey IX

401. Some say that high school is the best time of your life. Was that true for you? >> It was not. 402. What do you find yourself encouraging others to try? >> I can’t think of anything that fits that description. Generally if I’m encouraging someone, it’s because they brought up something that they wanted to try and are anxious about it or something. 403. Which is better: Mel Brooks or Woody Allen? >> Man, I love Mel Brooks movies, I think he’s hilarious. Meanwhile I’m not sure if I’ve seen any Woody Allen movies but I did see a clip from A Rainy Day in New York (think that’s the title) that went viral here on tumblr and it was just... abysmally bad. I cringed the whole length of the clip (to the point of physical pain, lmao). So that’s now my frame of reference for his movies. 404. When was the last time you were up all night? >> About 2 or 3 years ago, I’d say. I remember being up all night on stimulants and ended up writing a weird Person of Interest fic (it’s definitely one of those fics that I would have dreamed of writing but would have talked myself out of writing if I’d been sober, because I would have thought it was too weird or stupid... so I’m glad it got a chance to exist), and that would have been around 3 years ago. 405. __ is life. The rest is just details. Fill in the blank. >> I don’t know, man.

406. Are people too complex and different to be categorized? >> People are definitely way more complex than their categories would suggest, but I don’t think that means the categories are fundamentally useless. I think it’s important to keep in mind that categories are only useful to a point -- for quick communication or community-finding, for example, or for legal purposes -- and that it’s best if one doesn’t identify too strongly with one’s categories at the expense of experiencing their full complexity and mercuriality. 407. Is it good to have pride in your own race or does that separate people from each other because it makes them think of everyone else as ‘outsiders’? >> I mean, “race” to me is a pretty wack concept as a whole, so I think being proud of something like “race” is wack too. Now, if you’re proud of your culture, your ethnicity -- the specifics of your upbringing and community, not just some catch-all term that doesn’t really mean shit like “white” or “black” -- then that makes more sense to me. Even then, I’d have to hope that pride doesn’t come with a superiority complex and a system of exclusion. 408. What fictional story would you like to live through? >> I did that once. It both started and ended badly for me. To be fair, I didn’t exactly choose the story I was born into, but, you know. 409. Are cats or dogs smarter? >> It doesn’t make any sense to me to categorise animals like this. Cats and dogs both have instincts and cognitive processes that suit their species and their level of domestication, I’d assume. 410. Have you ever guessed someone’s password and broken into their diary? >> No. 411. What teacher, if any, has effected you the most in your life? >> I had a teacher in fourth grade that gave me the silent treatment for half of the year (literally. another student had to act as go-between for any communications), and that was pretty affecting. Also had a teacher that took me to court for “assault” (what I actually did was inappropriate but it definitely wasn’t assault) and got me put on probation for a year. Definitely affecting. 412. Are you more easily bored or excited? >> I’m way more easily bored. It takes a lot to get me excited. 413. What’s the bravest or most daring thing you have ever done? >> I’m not sure. 414. “What’s the point of robbery when nothing is worth taking?” (- Adam Ant) >> Obviously, something is worth taking if people are willing to take a risk like that. This is a silly ass quote. 415. If your man or woman served you breakfast in bed as a treat what would you want? >> You act like I don’t already eat my breakfast in or near my bed. 416. What do you do only when you are upset? >> I don’t know, most of the things I do when I’m upset can intersect with other emotions. Like crying, which I also do if I’m just emotionally overwhelmed (but not necessarily in a bad way). 417. What’s the oddest CD in your collection? >> --- 418. What’s the best diary name you ever saw? >> --- 419. What would your friends be surprised to learn about you? >> I don’t know. 420. Who owes you an apology? >> No one owes me anything. 421. Who deserves an apology from you? >> Can’t think of anyone I should be apologising to. If someone wants an apology, they’d better ask for it. 422. How would you like to treat your kids differently from the way your parents treated you? >> That is a list a mile long and I’m not about to get into that right now. Especially since it’s all hypothetical, since I’m not having children. 423. Which do you like best: 60’s, 70’s or 80’s fashion? >> I don’t much care for any of these. 424. What is the worst pick up line ever used on you? >> --- 425. Of the following, which word best describes you: inventive, kinetic (energetic), light-hearted, mature >> I don’t know which of these words describes me. None of them seem particularly appropriate. 426. Do you own a record player? Do you use it? >> I do own one, but I rarely use it. The novelty wore off really quickly. 427. How easily do you make friends? >> Not easily. 428. What is the difference between having character and being a character? “Being a character” makes me think of someone who is a class clown, and “having character” makes me think of someone with good characteristics, like being kind, helpful, responsible, etc. <-- Sure, let’s go with that. 429. Are there any animals you flat out refuse to touch? >> I mean, I’m not usually in a situation where I’m presented with an animal to touch... outside of, you know, the normal domesticated creatures. So I don’t know if there’s any animal out there I wouldn’t ever want to touch. 430. Do you care about your weight? >> I care about it in an unhealthy, dysmorphic way. 431. Did you/will you go to the prom? >> I went. 432. Have you ever wanted to date twins? >> No. 433. What one thing would you change about high school if you could? >> I’m not in high school anymore, so I don’t care about changing it. 434. If you came with a warning label, what would it say? >> I can only imagine what it would say. A lot, probably. 435. Are you artistic and creative? >> At some points, sure. 436. What were you (probably) doing on this date last year? >> I don’t know, man. Probably not too much different from what I’m doing right now. 437. What are you obsessed with? >> I can never think of an answer to this question. My capacity for obsession has been greatly diminished over time, probably thanks to trauma. 438. What was the last compliment you received? >> I don’t know. 439. Do you have any brothers or sisters? >> No. 440. Who would you like to be alone with right now? >> Myself, thanks. 441. Do you push people away when you really want them to come closer? >> I don’t actively push people away, I’m just incredibly distant and avoidant because I don’t know how else to be, and people respond to that. 442. Is a prenuptial agreement necessary or does it take the romance and trust out of marriage? >> I’m sure for some people, it’s necessary, or else it wouldn’t exist as a thing. (Also, let’s not even get into the fact that marriage as ~romantic~ has really only become a thing in recent eras, so a prenuptial agreement is actually more traditional than anything else...) I’ve never been anywhere near that level of wealth, so, you know. It’s all irrelevant to me and my life. 443. Do you lie your way out of things? >> I don’t really need to do this, like, ever. 444. Are you better at talking or listening? >> I find listening to be way easier than talking a lot of the time. 445. What will only happen to you once in this lifetime? >> Well, death, right? Not counting symbolic and metaphorical ones. 446. Know of any conspiracy theories you think might be credible? >> No. 447. What are the most beautiful words that have ever been spoken to you? >> *shrug* 448. If it were legal would you own a human slave (race unimportant)? >> Nah, I’m good.  449. Have you ever read your own writing at a poetry reading? >> I did once, in fact. It was pretty cool. 450. What is one simple thing that gives you the happy shivers? >> Er.

[nutmegtales]

Chaos

So, here’s the thing. I fucked up, like really fucked up. I’ve always been a bit of a fuck up, but it never really mattered all that much because I’ve also always been a bit of a nobody, someone who could just slip through the cracks of life and be forgotten. This time though, this time at least some people are going to remember me.

You know how a while back the ‘Gifted’ started appearing, with all their super cool powers? And you know how everyone sort of freaked? Just like in the comic books. Things were pretty weird for a little while. The politicians were figuring out how best to use this revelation to their advantage, the gifted ones themselves were all trying to find their place again, and the ignorant bastards of the world started shouting. But it did all settle down for a bit, didn’t it. I mean once the government decided that ‘gifts’ had their up sides, it got a bit easier. You remember seeing sometimes on the news when someone or other would use their gift for ‘the good of the people’ and save a few kids or put out a fire or something? Yeah that was pretty cool. I didn’t really pay all that much attention to it at the time. Bu then you remember what happened not too long after? How the bad ones started popping up? Yeah that’s when the shit really hit the fan. All the ignorant bastards started shouting real loud then, and things started changing again. Do you remember? I do.

I remember lining up at my university first day back for the second semester for their ‘health checks’. Saying there had been an outbreak or something, and everyone had to be tested and accounted for because we couldn’t risk the spread of such a dangerous communicable disease. No one asked any questions did they? There wasn’t any warning, no one knew if it was just our Uni, or other schools too. It was for the health and safety of our community, so we all just went with it. None of us realised it was the whole country. Every school, every work place, every government department, every house and even the rural communities… Everyone, homeless or rich, toddler or granny, worker or student. No one slipped through the cracks then. I wish I had.

The majority of us, like 99.99% of us, left with nothing but a little prick on our arm and a cookie. But the others… I remember getting to the head of the line, giving my name and being taken inside the closed off room that was usually a med lab. I remember asking what the diseases was and being given some long and overly complicated medical term to shut me up… it worked. They asked me a few questions, like had I been feeling different lately, had I travelled overseas recently, you know the stuff you’d expect. I answered honestly, I’d felt as depressed as usual and hadn’t been out of the country since the last time I’d seen my parents, years ago. That was all pretty usual. I’d been to the doctors plenty of times and was used to the routine questions and the bubbling fear in my chest as I hoped they wouldn’t think I was a hypochondriac or say I was dying or something terrible.  Then they said they needed to take a blood sample to determine what level of risk I might be at. I didn’t exactly like needles but of course I said go for it. I mean, why not?

I left a couple minutes later just like everyone else, a prick on my arm and a cookie. I had a lab to get to across campus and was now running too late for a morning coffee, which was a bummer seeing as I had a full day of labs and lectures to attend today. The lab was pretty boring, the usual meet and greet and what to expect in this unit. It drawled on a bit, but finally it was time to head off. I had a half our gap before my first lec, just enough time to enjoy a good coffee and some breakfast from my favourite little café. I’d ordered my coffee and was milling around outside nibbling at my pie till it was ready, greatness takes a little longer of course. I remember one of the med girls from earlier approaching the café, that’s when the anxiety kicked in. ‘oh god I’m at high risk and they’ve come to tell me I’m infected already, what if I’m dying, how much longer do I have?? Weeks? Days? Hours??? Oh god oh god oh god’. She walked straight passed me without a second glance my way.

Okay, so I may have overreacted a little and already planned out who would get all my possessions in the time it took her to pass me, but I mean, c’mon she was looking straight at me. She walked up to the barista as he called my order, which is why I had the displeasure of overhearing their conversation. I’d expected to hear an order for the wonderful coffee they serve here but instead. “Excuse me, Mr John Carin?” the woman had asked “I’m sorry to inform you that we have identified you as a high level risk, I’ll need you to come with me, quietly please, and don’t run”.

He ran.

Of course he ran, because he knew, he knew exactly what this was about, what everyone else didn’t know. My coffee was knocked onto the ground as john grabbed my wrist and hauled. Why did he have to grab me? Couldn’t he have just run? Or grabbed someone else? I mean, me? Really! Of all the people in the coffee shop! The woman wasn’t exactly surprised and was quick to act, she was right behind us as we got to the middle of the courtyard, with something, that I silently hoped was a tazer, in her hands. I remember freezing, all my limbs locking up as terror tore through me, everything screaming at me to get out of there, but I didn’t. I heard behind me, as my throat was roughly grabbed “back off bitch, or I’ll crush the small one”. He meant me by the way. The woman just laughed and said it wouldn’t do him any good… that was helpful.  That’s when I really freaked because the ground just in front of me started to churn and crunch, the bricks slowly cracking and turning and crumbling smaller and smaller into fine bits. Like a fucking coffee grinder, the bricks like the beans. “fuck” I wailed, and yeah it was a wail, you would too. John was a fucking human coffee grinder and I was getting uncomfortably close to the churning ground, and this bitch wasn’t even trying to help me. “fuck fuck fuck”. The woman pointed the, oh shit now I could see it, the definitely a gun and not a tazer at all, straight at me and apologised “better fast than a slow grind”. What the fuck! Didn’t these people have protocols, like… don’t shoot the innocent human shield??

Fuck fuck fuck, the ground was slipping under my feet, scraping at my shoes, the only thing keeping me upright was flipping coffee grinder john. I saw the woman flick the safety off the gun and steady herself. Idiot john was telling her she didn’t have the guts and to just let us go, the oaf was egging her on. That, my friends, that is when I fucked up.

By now of course there was a crowd, there were plenty of phones out recording my imminent death, the crazy woman had back up who to my horror were quite content to let her deal with the situation.  Mr coffee grinder john seemed to have no intention of leaving alive at this point, and I, well I was at breaking point. Everything in me was screaming to leave, to escape, to run, to slip between the cracks of life and just get out. Of course, everything in me didn’t quite have all the facts and didn’t seem to understand that hovering above a giant grinding pit wasn’t the best time to brake my captors hold. Everything in me, decided it didn’t care. I felt a horrible sensation scrape down my spine and burst behind my eyes as the bitch pulled the trigger. My ears rang, eyes felt heavy and everything faded out of focus, my fingers tingled and I had a horrible burning in my lungs. Things changed. It was chaos. John was dead, a bullet in his chest where my head had been. I stood next to his body a few steps away, completely unscathed, and totally numb, staring in shock as the woman and her back up ran towards me and told me to put my hands up. I did. Everything felt sluggish and I must have been too slow, one of the guys in the back up grabbed my arm and twisted it behind me, latching a hard metal cuff around my wrist. He went to grab my other hand and again snapped the cuff securely around it. That’s when I fucked up again. I took a step to the side and… slipped through. The cuffs lay on the ground at the feet of the back-up man, a few steps away from where I was now. I looked up in surprise and said “fuck”. That’s the last thing I remember before something hitting me in the back of the head, hard.

By NutMegTales

Read my other stuff here: Elsewhere University, Blood Tales, Dark Ones, Misc, Poetry