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moonlightcrossesonyourbody · 5 years ago

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Words, Nerves and Cigarettes

Hiiii!!!! So, this is for the wonderful @liglitterbug to whom I promised a story for a prompt for helping me out and finding me that story I was looking for obsessively. The prompt was basically h/c and dyslexic Steve with Harringrovre which like, one my favourite things EVER!! This is pre-slash. There are a couple anxiety attack scenes that are pretty graphic. More warnings in the tags.

Without further ado here we go!!

Okay. So Steve knew he wasn’t the smartest guy in the block. He knew that he was surrounded by people who could think circles around him on any given topic okay? He knew that. And he wasn’t bitter. No he had accepted long ago, when Mrs Johnson asked him to read out loud in 6th grade and he almost had a damn panic attack and had to feign feeling lightheaded- which honestly, not that much feigning there- that school and all that academic mambo jumbo just wasn’t for him.

His dad certainly made sure he understood just how stupid and incompetent and Jesus, Steven, you’re so damn lazy why can’t you just apply yourself, son? he was. Back when he was still young enough that his parents missing parent-teacher night would be frowned upon in the polite company of Hawkin’s upper class, a couple of his teachers would throw around, in lower tones, like a dirty little secret, words like testing and dyslexia and it’s not his fault, it’s just...his brain. That was always sure to get his father going and start threatening in hushed tones about incompetent teachers and funding and do you even know how to work with kids, he’s just damn lazy. So eventually the teachers stopped mentionning it. He never forgot that word though.

He looked it up in the school library one day when Tommy and Carol where to occupied sucking each other’s faces and too high to notice him gone anyway. He thought he might have it. Dyslexia that is. It made sort of sense anyway, as much as anything could make sense in his head, especially these days. The book said things like jumbled words and trouble reading and spelling and backwards letters like b and d...or d and b. Something anyway. And it all felt pretty familiar and it was comforting for a while, cause the book also had this section about coping mechanisms. Sounding the words out slowly, or spelling them or writing them down. Having someone read to him worked the best though and when Carol was in a giving enough mood and Tommy wasn’t around and he widened his eyes and pouted his lips just enough, she’d read the homework out loud to him. And then Nancy came.

Sweet, understanding, beautiful, smart Nancy who was determined to help him make sense of his stupid brain. She’d read to him and show him how to take notes so he’d need the books less and explain to him stuff that he just couldn’t get. But then their world turned literally upside down and school kinda went into the back and Nancy left him and then he had the kids to take care of, because he had to keep them safe, he had to. God knows he couldn’t help with anything else. So he patrolled the woods and picked them up and from wherever those little nerds-geniuses- were everyday. Cause he could do that at least. He wasn’t like Dustin who was the smartest person he had ever known, who had a science based explanation for everything.Or Nancy and Jonathan and Hopper who connected all the dots and where always, like, fifteen steps ahead of him.Or Mike who always had a plan for every damn contnigency.

Mike, who was currently looking at him like he bit into something sour-which honestly was turning into the kid’s default expression right along with those eyes that he was currently rolling at him and Jesus his face was gonna get stuck like that and then he would- Jesus dammit Steve focus. He tried to go back on his train of thought, which, honestly more like a trainwreck of a thought, and figure out why Mike was currently making that face at him.

“Jesus Christ, Steve, are you gonna ever roll or fucking what?” exclaimed the kid and-

“ Hey, language-” Steve started saying and oh my god what happened to him, before he remembered that they were playing the nerds’ stupid game Gorgons and Caves or what the fuck ever. Which you know. Speaking of trainwrecks. So he rolled and landed a fourteen and Mike started spouting of some bullshit that he couldn’t hope to understand even if he was focused and not sleep deprived, which speaking of, Jesus he hadn’t slept more than five hours since Wednesday, and what day was it again and-

“ Oh my God, Dude are you fucking stupid? We’ve explained this a thousand fucking times, just read your damn character sheet and make a stupid move, come on!!” Which, okay ouch, Mike fuck you very much, he didn’t even wanna play the stupid game, but Dustin was begging and the kid thinks he’s cool and he can’t say no to him and-

“Oh, my God Mike can you just fucking chill he was probably bored of your stupid voice-” Max started yelling and there was that word again stupid, stupid, stupid, and the kids were yelling now and-

“Okay, Okay, Jesus, hold your damn panties, Wheeler, here.” he pulled his character sheet off the floor where he had let it drop during the kids’ last yelling match, jesus do they yell, and he squinted at the page. “ Okay, so, umm...I...umm, I have that back up spell right? So I, ah, I’m gonna give that to Will...?” he trailed off, lifting his eyes to look at the rest of the kids around the table.

“Oh my God, Steve come on you have to read the spell,come on.” Mike said while heaving a big, great, sigh. “ See I told you guys, he wouldn’t get it, he’s only slowing us down-”

“Jesus, Mike shut up! How can he read if you’re always yelling at him, he’s new at this and just needs some time to concentrate, not everyone’s brain works the same. Come on buddy just read the spell like we practiced,” Dustin turned his big eyes at him and gave him that damn ridiculous smile and Jesus that’s were he’s at right now, his best friend is also his cheerleader and his mom who is also a fucking thirteen year old.

He looked back down at the sheet and tried to read the stupid spell, but he couldn’t find where the damn word was, and the letters were dancing all over the page, and none of the words made sense anyway and he couldn’t sound them out, never mind spelling them and, was that an upside down question mark what the fuck? Oh wait no that’s an f, the spell started with an f- right?

“Okay, umm, I wanna give Will, a fu-, an umm, a fra..for,” He was stuttering, he knew he was stuttering, goddammit, and he was starting to sweat, the back of his neck was on fire, and there was no air in this stupid basement, and none of the words made sense, and his stupid brain couldn’t process anything, and his leg was jittering and his nails were digging into the meat of his palm were he had his hand fisted on his lap,

and the kids were all looking at him,

and Mike was rolling his eyes,

and Dusting was looking at him all supportive like,

and Max was looking at him like she knew, and her moth was forming a soft, quiet oh,

and he couldn’t breathe.

Out. He needed out, NOW.

He stood up abruptly, his knees knocking into the low wooden table they were playing on, almost knocking Mike’s book fortress on the floor, and he was getting tunnel vision, his hands fumbled in his pockets, searching for the cigarettes he wasn’t carrying anymore, cause it wasn’t good for the kids and-

“ Umm, I’m just,..I’m just gonna go get some... get some water,isn’t it...isn’t it hot in here, get some umm some air” he stuttered out, hand finding the nearest wall, stumbling his way towards the staircase, damn it all to fucking hell why stairs?

“ What?!” Dustin exclaimed “Steeeeve, come on it was just about to get good-”

He cut Dustin off “ Anybody want anything?” he rushed out, the words coming out with a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. He risked a glance round the table and saw Max looking at him like she understood, and she nodded her head at him toward the stairs.

“ I want some juice” She said calmly.

Mike opened his mouth as if to argue, and she must have seen something on Steve’s face cause she was turning toward the boy, with a thunderous expression on her face and-

“ Oh My God, Mike! What the hell is your problem, he gave the damn spell to Will, just go on, you little asshole-” and that girl deserved the world.

He could hear Mike’s screech of indignation as he flayed his way up the stairs, opened the door and exited that stupid, suffocating basement, trying to catch his breath, as he made his way towards the front door, mostly blindly, mainly on instinct, feeling like his face was on fire and his hands were shaking and

stupid, stupid, stupid, you panic because of a game with fucking pre-teens, what the hell is wrong with you, you stupid - stuttered breath-

pathetic- just a couple more steps-

useless- his hand was on the handle-

embarrassing-he wrenched the door open-

-and promptly run into a wall.

“Jesus fuck, what the Hell?!” Someone exclaimed, as hands went on his bicep and hip steading him, his arms trapped between them, hands on a firm chest, half-clutching an open shirt, mostly pawing at warm, golden skin, golden necklace catching on the reflecting porchlight, his stupid brain going a mile a minute-

-oh hell.

He raised his eyes, meeting twin night sky blue pools- no, no wait not pools, pools were bad and death and guilt and monsters and we killed he-

“ Okay there amigo?” Billy asked, eyebrow raised, arms still holding him, burning, scorching him, and his breath hit his face, smelling strongly like cigarette smoke and faintly of something sweet, saccharin, snapping him back to the moment and Jesus, they were standing so close, practically sharing air, that Steve couldn’t take in and he was burning and

“ Yougotanysmokes?” he rushed out, and tried to swallow, throat working, while he was still trying to draw breath, which was maybe a little easier now, with Billy’s scorching, rough hands feeling like a brand on the skin of his arm and the sliver of skin where the fabric of his shirt had bunched up on his hip, where Billy was still steading, grounding him.

“I sure do” he said stepping back, taking his hands and all their fire away, second eyebrow climbing up to meet the first. “Wanna bum one, King?” he said, devil’s smirk appearing, making the statement sound suggestive,

smug asshole, Steve thought.

“Umm, ye- yeah.” He got out, clearing his throat and looking everywhere but at Billy.

“ They’re in the car.” He turned around, making towards the Camaro, and of course they were. Where would he even keep them on him, it was finally warm enough that jackets weren’t a necessity and he must be barely able to breathe in those jeans, never mind shove things down the pockets- Jesus ,Steve, focus he thought to himself aggressively, blushing again, and heart stuttering, for entirely different reasons that he wasn’t examining too closely right now cause seriously fuck that.

He looked back and found Billy looking at him over his shoulder, devil smirk still there, porchlight and moonlight catching on his curls and on the angles of his face making him look like one of those marble statues in his history book, if you looked past that infuriating smirk and that glint in his eyes that spelled only trouble.

“You coming, or am I fetching them and lighting one for you, King Steve?” he drawled slowly, tongue appearing and glistening while wetting his lips.

does that thing ever stay inside his mouth? he thought and then snapped back to himself, shaking his head to clear it, and started to move towards the car.

“Yeah, no, ah, yeah, yeah I’m coming.” he said and Billy hummed behind his smirk and turned back around and made for the driver’s side, Steve following him this time, heart still beating faster than it should be and the previous anxiety and panic that chased him away from the kids and that damn basement still simmering in the forefront of his thoughts.

By the time he had reached him Billy had already got his packet out, and had a cigarette dangling on his lips, driver’s door shut, the hand with the packet extended towards Steve, while the other held his lighter, as he made his way towards the front of the car.

When he reached Steve, Billy got between him and the bumper of the car. Steve swallowed on reflex while Billy’s arms reached behind him and he leaned back on them, hips jutting out and the fabric of his sleeves straining, and then he gave a small jump, landing on the hood of the Camaro with a grace that Steve would hardly possess in general, never mind now with his nerves wrecked as they were.

Billy lied back on the hood of his car, golden/sliver curls creating a hallo around his head, eyes closed and smoke going up, up ,up from the cigarette Steve didn’t even notice him lighting up, arms going behind his head, knees bent and exposed torso shining.

He looks like a giant cat. Steve thought as he saw him stretch and hum, shiny midnight blue hood contrasting against the reds and golds of his skin and clothes.

He turned his head slightly towards Steve’s general direction, his eyes opened half-hooded and hazy behind the smoke of his cigarette. The cigarette he was now grinning around, the jackass. More like a lion then. Or a tiger, but definitely a predator, instead of a house pet. Like Mews 2.. or was it Tews? The one the monster didn’t eat anyway and nope. Nope. Nope. Not thinking about that right now. No.

Steve, still trying to avoid that anxiety attack he has been trying to restrain since Mike opened his stupid mouth and his stupid brain stopped working, let out a quiet breath and rolled his eyes, when Billy lifted one eyebrow again and glanced at the packet now lying on the hood of the car next to his hip.

He reached for the packet and pulled a cigarette out, rolling it across his lips, before setting it in the middle while he searched for the lighter he still always carried on him. He lit it up, put the lighter away, safely inside his jeans’ pocket, got the cigarette back in his fingers and climbed next to Billy on the hood. He looked toward the other boy but Billy’s eyes were closed again, smoke slowly drifting up, up, up from his blowing mouth, so he mimed his stance and laid back. One hand pillowing his head, but he didn’t close his eyes, opting instead to turn to the boy next to him.

He looked like he was sunbathing in the moonlight, greedy even with light, drawing toward him any light source there was in the bleakness of the early Midwest spring, sucking it all in or maybe better, absorbing it, and while he was watching mesmerized the rise and fall of his naked, sculpted chest, Steve wondered, when exactly, sitting in silence with Billy Hargrove, became the silent comfort of his mess of a life.

It was comfortable now. It wasn’t comfortable at the start. Not for Steve at least. He pushed through the nerves and the wariness and yes, the fear, cause Billy Hargrove wasn’t the only stubborn bastard, this side of the country. But he was dangerous. And as much as Steve liked to tell the kids that the demon dogs from Hell were by far the sole scary thing that night, he could admit it. Quietly. To himself. In the privacy of his jumbled, stupid head that Billy’s rage and raw, unstoppable force of power and anger that night were just us terrifying.

But he apologized. And Steve hadn’t slept well since October of last year and he just didn’t have the energy to hold a grudge. He was never good at it anyway. So he nodded his head and mumbled a ‘whatever dude’ and looked away. But the asshole wouldn’t leave, and then he offered him a cigarette and Nancy hated those and they weren’t good for the kids, but he hadn’t slept in ages and he remembered what the burn of nicotine felt like when it travelled down his lungs and suddenly he found himself unable to say anything but yes.

So he started smoking with Billy Hargrove. While waiting on the kids if the weather was good. After practice sometimes. And it was nice. It quieted his head. Cause Billy was very calm when he wasn’t raging and halfway out of his goddamned mind. Or maybe not calm, exactly, cause he was always there, like, like a palpable energy, like...like what the sea must be like not still itself but calming for you like the open ocean. The ocean that Steve had never seen but Billy was missing like a phantom limb, the ocean he decided to carry along with him to the dry, dirty Midwest, that stole it from him.

He took another breath, filling his lungs with smoke that burned. Burned but not like the fire in the tunnels burning something to death alive, or like bullshit or like we’re in love or like his eyes did when he was trying to make it up the stairs, like stupid, stupid, stupid, cotton-mouth, stutters, like Max’s eyes on the back of his burning neck. Not like Billy’s hands on his skin. He exhaled slowly. Letting the smoke drift out into the night. Closed his eyes.

“You good now?” Billy’s low baritone, broke the silence, snapping Steve out of his head. He opened his eyes and looked at the other boy who had, at some point turned his head towards him, eyebrow raised again and eyes inquiring but tone surprisingly -or maybe not- not mocking.

“I..ah..eghem” Steve cleared his throat “ Yeah. Yeah I’m fine” he said all the while looking at Billy, cheshire, catlike smirk slowly spreading across face.

“ That you are alright, pretty boy.” He said in that tone he always used to charm girls and moms and teachers, and Steve turned his head away looking back up at the sky and thanked God for the darkness that hopefully would cover the fire in his face. This shit was getting tiring, what the hell was wrong with him-

“ But are you okay?” Billy asked again snapping Steve out of his thoughts that were going downhill for the millionth time that night. The sincerity in his voice threw Steve off for a second and he turned to look at him and found it in equal measures on his face. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and wondered for the hundredth time since Billy Hargrove’s Heartfelt Apology Tour of 1985 how exactly he had managed to find yet another person who could see right through him.

“I’m gonna be” He said surprisingly heartfelt and sincerely. Quietly. Billy’s eyes searched his face for a second, trying to find signs of dishonesty or maybe something else entirely. He slowly blew the smoke he was holding out and as it danced across his face while it was traveling up, up, up to meet the moon whose rays Billy was bathing in, his expression softened and his lips ticked up minutely in a smile so soft and almost... almost tender and Steve’s breath caught in his chest again in a different, surprisingly more welcome, flattering,butterfly like panic.

A second, a breath, less than a heartbeat later Billy seemed to have found whatever answers to whatever questions he was searching for in Steve’s face. He nodded slowly. Curtly. And he turned his face back towards the moonlight rays that went back to licking the sharp planes of his cheekbones casting shadows from his eyelashes. Claiming him as theirs.

He hummed.

He exhaled.

“ I need to get Max back to the house.” He said with an apologetic sort of finality.

And whatever spell the moonlight and the smoke and the ocean, midnight blue of the Camaro had cast was broken.

He made to get up and Steve almost lost his balance with how quickly he made to get up. Because in a twisted superstition he believed in, in that moment that if he was the one to get up, maybe-

maybe time would freeze. Maybe he would be able to preserve the image or whatever mirage the moonlight and the smoke had created and Billy would be imprinted on his memory as the calming, solid...dangerous, presense laying against the hood of the ocean that he drove.

Maybe some of that calm would seep into Steve’s brain that constantly betrayed him.

So he got up, rushed out a jumbled “ Imagoget’em ” and started towards the door. he reached it, opened it and when he was inside turned around, looked at Billy, forever young and laying on his thunderous ocean and waiting.

He got back down, the sounds of the kids still yelling piercing through whatever fog -peace- had surrounded him and he started, like he just woke up.

Max’s juice. He doubled back towards the kitchen, grabbed a juice box and sprinted towards the stairs. He was climbing down when Will noticed him first letting out a “ Steve!” and then closing his mouth with a click, an apologetic look on his face when all the rugrats turned their heads towards him and started yelling. Steve gave him a little smile to let him know that it was okay.

“ My juice!” Max exclaimed and got up with the same grace her brother possessed and made her way to him, arms outstretched. When she had the plastic straw in her mouth she mumbled a quick “thanks” to him before her voice was drowned out by Mike’s yelling as he bulldozed his way towards Steve.

“You missed all the rest of the campaign! We need your stupid character to finish this off come on!” He said petulantly as he shoved his character sheet and the dice in his hands.

Steve looked down and gulped when he saw all the jumbled words and felt all the kids’ eyes on him. He could feel his chest constricting, the previous panic that smoke and moonlight had chased away slowly coming back to reclaim its spot.

“-umm...I”

“Max.”

A hand came up and squeezed the back of his neck. He let out a stuttered breath and turned to his left to see Billy standing there.

“ Time to get back.” he said and the kids broke out in protests and moans of “noooooo”

He looked at the juice box in Max’s hands and turned to face Steve, devil’s smirk appearing.

“You their servant now, King Steve?” he said in a tone more teasing than mocking, tongue sweeping across his lips and eyes glinting.

“Fuck off” Steve said while rolling his eyes. He leaned back into the hand still at the back of his neck, trying to match his breaths to the rise and fall of Billy’s chest, while trying not to look like he was, like, ogling the guy. “ I just got Max a juice, man”.

“Oh, so you’re her maid then, huh, Harrington?” Billy went on teasing and nodded towards Max’s general direction, not taking his eyes off of Steve or letting up the pressure on his neck.

Steve looked back at Max and winked “ Your sister’s a gift Hargrove”

Billy snorted and raised a hand to point,” Baby Byers over there is a gift” he said and send a wink at Will’s direction, who promptly blushed all the way to his ears and suddenly found the tablecloth in front of him fascinating, the poor kid,

“Maxine” he drawled looking back between the two of them “ is a beast.” he said around a smirk that turned into a toothy grin with Max’s indignant “ Hey!”

Steve hummed and acted like he was thinking about it and then looked at Max with a conspiratory grin and pointed at her “ But she’s a badass”

“ HA!” yelled Max while raising her juice box in a toast towards Steve proudly and looked around at the rest of the boys to see if any of them cared to contest that statement. Obviously none did. Lucas nodded vigorously and agreed, Will smiled at the tablecloth while sending furtive glances Billy’s way still very much on fire, Dustin accepted the statement with grace and Mike continued to look like he had bit into a lemon.

Steve saw Billy roll his eyes playfully while the kids were busy talking over each other and looking Max’s way with a relatively fond expression he wouldn’t have been caught dead with a few months ago.

He saw Steve staring at him and winked and Steve suddenly found himself sympathizing with Will, cleared his throat and looking away.

“ Dustin we should get going too, your mom wants you back by nine.” he said with what he prayed was enough authority to sway the knuckleheads and turned to Will “ Your brother picking you up?”

“Yeah he’s coming later.” Will finally lifted his head and mumbled.

Billy suddenly took his hand off of Steve and glanced at his watch.

“Max. Get going.” he said with finality. He looked at Steve. “ Pretty Boy.” he said with a smirk and clapped him on the shoulder as he made his way back up the stairs. Max rolled her eyes at her brother’s back, but put her shoes on, grabbed her bag, said a bye to the boys and followed him.

“I’m ready, BYE guys!!” said Dustin and started tagging at Steve’s sleeve to get him moving. Steve gave a salute that Will smiled at, Lucas returned and Mike, unsurprisingly, rolled his eyes at but nodded in their general direction so you know, progress, and they started climbing up the stairs.

They got out of the house and in the car just as Billy and Max were pulling out of the driveway and Steve stared as the blue of the Camaro slowly became one with the darkness of the horizon.

“Steve!” Dustin snapped him out of his thoughts “ Are you gonna stay for dinner, Mom made lasagna and I know you love them. You should stay and celebrate. That spell you gave Will literally saved the whole village” he said in a pointed and encouraging voice, “ Mike’s just an asshole don’t listen to him he’s just pissed cause El wasn’t allowed to come and Nancy’s always blowing him off and he’s jealous that she won’t play with us but you do, even if you’re new at this and you don’t really have the hung of it- but you will don’t worry, cause you’re really smart and -”

“Dustin!” Steve cut him and his flayling word vomit off “ It’s fine, it was fine, it was fun you know, it was great” he said and hoped that Dustin didn’t see through the lie even though he found himself believing it a little. Don’t get him wrong the anxiety attack wasn’t fun but the rest of the evening, listening to the kids bicker and laugh and then smoking with Billy....

yeah. It wasn’t all bad.

Dustin was looking at him expectantly beetle eyes shining in the dark, toothy grin splitting his face in two and Steve caught himself smiling back and wondering what the hell this kid ever saw in him and thought he was so cool. He found himself grateful anyway.

“ Yeah, yeah I’ll stay for dinner, kid” he said fondly and reached over and messed his hand through Dustin’s curly hair. The kid just gave him a big smile.

“Oh my God I love this song!” Dustin yelled excitedly and reached to turn the radio up. Steve started driving, breathing, finally normal and hummed along with Dustin’s excited singing

Someone told me long ago

There's a calm before the storm

I know, it's been comin' for some time.

When it's over, so they say

It will rain a sunny day

I know, shinin' down like water.

I wanna know, have you ever seen the rain? ....

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vkstar-cornman · 5 years ago

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Contexts

Lately I’m still feeling very reluctant about blogging and write reflections from time to time, especially the weather had made me quite ill and unproductive. The book art responding to 24/7 started off brightly, but now I am experiencing the phase I would had the same in every other project, which I start being very skeptical on whether if this is a good idea to keep developing on.

So for clarity, for my own reference, I’ll try to explain what I will be doing to myself through inscription to boost my own confidence on this one.

Basically, we all started from the same point, which is to go to 24/7 in Somerset House and see the works being curated together in there. ‘Sleep’ and ‘Surveillance’ were some of the strong concepts being emphasized throughout the exhibition, but I had enough of explaining what I’ve seen there because I’m pretty sure I have done it multiple times already. I will directly skip to the inspiration part. Alexandra Daisy Ginsberg’s Synthetic Orchestration gave me an idea of doing a book with birds as the major appearance in book, her work displayed the restlessness from urban life had extended, and disrupted biosphere as well, causing birds to sing earlier and loud, a change in their communicating mechanisms.

Birds are such fragile yet agile animals that we spot commonly in a lot of places. They have co-existed and dwell in the city with humans for long ages, and I do believe the 24/7 culture shapes their life different in many ways, emerging the traits from a sleepless routine into their nature. Besides light and sound pollution coming from either rapid industrialization or for the needs of working class, there are more physical environmental pollutions than we could imagine that are forcing birds and the other part of nature to adapt such an anxious living mode, which is almost incompatible to most of our natures, not just as human, but as a moral living creature.

What I always found fascinating about birds, is how their life cycle works. Depending on larger or smaller breeds, there’s quite a range in life span, but what matter the most is the stages in life to them are pretty much the same. They go from eggs to hatchlings, nestlings to juvenile and lastly, subadult to fully mature. For smaller breeds, their dead bodies are usually hard to find, as instead of natural causes, they mainly died from predation due to their position in food chain. I don’t actually think there’s any part seems so magical about the life of birds, but I’m just genuinely interested in where do they go before and after at the stage where they still require parental care. Just like the type of things we face in our lives, I study it to try to find associations, because associations always makes good metaphors in communication.

Cutting to the chase, so how is the contextualization working in this project? Some of the people look into how 24/7 culture and late capitalism keep infecting birds, or just genuinely urban wildlife in future, and the unpredictability of impact on the nature just remind me the fact that many people are yet to be delivered to this world, until the age of much more uncertainties comes. For some other family-related certain issues, I decide to dedicate this book art project to the next generation, the generation alpha, a generation fully immersed into the bestest technologies we are seeing nowadays. Some may argue that millennials and generation Zs were already those people of era that lacked the witness of how technology shifted rapidly. What separate us apart from generation alpha, is they will face contract to social media in a much younger age and also a larger extend then we did. It is good or bad? As always, for generally any topics, there are always the good side and the bad side, but only to find out which will outweigh which.

For example, from a video I watched recently that explains a marketing strategy labelled as a creation under ‘late capitalism’, which companies like fast food chain restaurants would take their online presence onto a personification, creating a less formal and official link with netizens, which in contrast boosted their ‘relatability’ and proximity to the public, a friend-like approachable figure with certain unique personalities which could summon an entire ‘fandom’, instead of just a platform grouped with admins that give you really polite but autogenerated replies. The publication and use of hugely popularized substances in millennials and gen Zs like ‘memes’ are largely used to gather a fan base. The idea is no longer to make professional promotions and advertisements in order to attract customers, but to immerse some kind of virtual character into your life, an online presence that you actually think of as a mortal person or even an acquaintance you know from online, that marketers found best apply to the newer generations people.

This kind of techniques start appearing in about mid 2010s, which is the age where generation alpha could either just born, already been born, or starting to explore the world and gotten exposed to internet. Saying this also mean that most of these kids will not be able to witness how these marketing strategies were used and a world before such things existed, and what happens is that it could be very difficult for them to be aware of not constantly getting instilled with such ideas and ‘advertisements’. It sounds like its merely, remotely related to how late capitalism brings 24/7 culture, sleeplessness, blablabla…. But the idea is, there will be people out there, trying to be your friend and mostly their only purpose is to make themselves hard to be gotten rid out of your heads. The world is spinning at hot speed, and each day there are people coming up with multiple ideas about advertisements or other idea-instilling mechanisms, that seems very harmless on surface, but also doesn’t make an antipathic psychological effect on general public. The true negative effects are very subconscious and unpredictable, and that’s what makes it scarier, it will probably make the next generation even less independent with a mobile device or social medias, even we together will bring more advancements in the foreseeable future.

The questions I kept asking myself, is what will happen to them? How will they cope with many upcoming challenges? Will we altogether, be able to solve the problems together? With medical advancements, the latest two generations of people (0-20) are currently treated with the best medical welfare and medication, who are believed to potentially live until 22nd Century. With that being said, generation z and alpha’s timeline of life will be quite similar and will be sharing a lot of time working and collaborating together. What are the things we as a previous generation, a multitude of people who have slightly witnessed a bit more than the alphas do, can remind them of? What are the things generally everyone out there can advise these hatchlings who haven’t seen the world yet? Even though myself is still in an early stage of exploring how this world work under the current system, what are the things we need to fight against? What are they thing we should believe in or not?

I guess these could be counted as my responses to the exhibition, not initially though. I will never be able to find the most fully-covered or precise answers to these questions, but I will try to explore them, and find the keys to the doors after another one. For the book, I focused mainly on the message and with my limitations on accurate measurements, I was a bit uncomfortable in trying to create a distinct format or an original prototype to the book itself. What I want to do, is illustrate the life of birds with multiple medias. What I have already done is screenprinting, drawings with unorthodox ways and digital amendments, the main idea is to create digitally configurated images with natural techniques (sunography in replacement of x-ray? Handdrawing instead of computer-generated image) . During the growing up process for the birds, they don’t face terrorisms or wars, but they face the terror of being exposed to technology and medias in an early age, which effects are quite inmost as I have mentioned.

#bookart #generation alpha #late capitalism

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rokachan · 8 years ago

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Meet Roka

➥ What is your character’s full name?: Roka Yasei Sakurae ➥ Where were they born?: In the mountains that rim the steppes of Othard ➥ Do they have any brothers or sisters?: Three older brothers (Daichi, Eito, Sachihiro), one older sister (Misaki) ➥ What kind of eyes do they have?: Roka’s eyes are heterochromic. The left is a pale pink, the right is a seafoam green. Her defined limbal rings are natively black, drawing attention to the contrasting colours. When her aether surges, her limbals glow, illuminating her features with muted light. Her eyes are expressive, often giving away far more about her than her words ever will. Often filled with light and mirth, there are shadows behind them that were not there a year ago, dark clouds brewing at the heels of the light she puts front and center. ➥ What kind of hair do they have?: Kept roughly at shoulder length and choppily cut by her own hands, soft blonde lockes fall in a tussled mess about her face and shoulders. Natural highlights that match her pink eye streak through the light flaxen mane. Lately the Raen hasn’t found reason to spend time taming her hair, leaving it free and falling across her eyes. When time is spent, she sports small braids and a bun, though regardless she is rarely seen without hair falling across her eyes and veiling her face. ➥ What is their complexion like?: Pale and softly coloured, it is an oddity that she so flourishes in the Thanalan sun. Her facial scales are soft to the touch and sensitive, and barring the scar at her brow her features are unmarred and smooth. Many consider her cute or pretty, though she does very little to draw attention to herself and only uses makeup when steeling herself to go on stage. ➥ What body type are they?: The only large things about Roka are her heart and her smile. Standing at an underwhelming 4′5″ she is built slight, more wisp than woman. Her grossly massive intake of sugars is battled by her hyperactivity. The only time she truly settles and remains still for long is when she retires in the evenings and curls with someone for sleep. ➥ What is listening to their voice like?: A voice that is fluid and shifts with her emotion. Idle conversation is soft and sweet, lost beneath the dull thunder of a crowd easily. Her anger is a whispered hiss of reptilian hate. joy is vibrant and melodic, influenced by the Qalli and Kulain in a song-like quality. Soothing the sorrows and worries of those she cares for is a gentle tune, the summer breeze bringing relief to the sweltering heart, and when she draws herself onto a stage to sing for strangers she captivates with a salacious, smoky drawl. ➥ What do they hate most about themselves?: If asked directly she may offer only a wistful smile in answer, but the truth is there are many things that could compete for this title. The one which reigns is the one which has caused so much hurt to those she cares for though. Her reckless, wild nature. The want to help, the need to protect, the drive to shield people from threat and darkness. ➥ Do they have a favorite quote?: "You are not alone.” ➥ What sort of music do they enjoy?: The crackle of a fire. The easy breathing of her best friend as he sleeps, her head pillowed on his chest. The vibrant and alive voices that strut across a stage. The whistle of the wind racing past her horns. There is music in everything, if you listen, and in that music you can be reminded of what it’s like to be alive. ➥ Have/would they ever cheat(ed) on a partner?: Once before, but never again. After realizing her own needs in a relationship she has made a point of being more clear in what she wants, and in being direct when they are not being met. ➥ Have they been cheated on by a partner?: Yes ➥ Have they ever lost someone close to them?: Roka has lost many people she’s been close to. Family, lovers, and friends have all passed into the aetherstream. ➥ What is their favorite sound?: The thing that soothes Roka the most, the sweetest sound to her, and the one which paints a faint smile of content on her features is a heartbeat. To rest and listen to the heartbeat of another, the slow rhythm of a drummed out pulse, is her favourite sound. You can tell a lot about a person in a moment by the way their heart beats, and she sleeps best when she is lulled to slumber by the sound. ➥ Are they judgmental of others?: Not at all. Roka’s acceptance of people is without fail. She won’t judge someone because she can’t ever know the whole story, the circumstances, the reasoning. She simply accepts people as they are and smiles at the flaws and quirks that others shy from. ➥ Have they ever been drunk?: Alcohol is a coping mechanism for the Raen. In her darkest moments she turns to the bottle and will drown herself. In lighter times she drinks socially, and has a nightcap. ➥ What are they like when they stay up all night?: Prior to Marl being a constant part of her sleep schedule, it was almost impossible to tell if she had slept or not the night before. Ramped on sugars and coffee she surged through long days and restless nights without hesitation, eventually wearing herself down enough to simply fall asleep wherever she was at random. With her schedule slowly being fixed, first through Tobi and now Marl’s refusal to let her sleep alone, sleepless nights are far less common and the following day she is lethargic and likely to be found lazing in a sunny place or on someone’s roof. ➥ Have they ever been arrested?: No ➥ What evokes strong memories for them?: Blood. The tang of copper int he air, the flash of carmine life against the palette of the world, the splash of heat against the skin. It drives her mind back to her life in Othard and a time when it was all she knew. ➥ What do they do on rainy days?: If alone? Hide. She tucks herself away in a warm, cozy nook with a book and a drink and waits out the rain. She looks forward to the puddles, but the possibility of thunder and lightning keep her locked securely indoors and safe. With people she tried to hide the fear and will pretend to enjoy it, frolicking in the rain and dancing about, though her eyes do not leave the sky for long as she keeps vigilant watch for any sign of a worsening storm. ➥ What religion are they?: Raised under the Dawn Father and Dusk Mother, Roka has accepted the Twelve as a possibility as well. She isn’t sure exactly what she believes, and is as likely to send prayer to the Twelve as she is the Two. ➥ What word do they overuse the most?: “"Yes” Roka picked up the habit of using the words ‘yes’ and ‘no’ in speech at the end of a sentence from Syf, and it is something that has never left her. ➥ What do they wear to bed?: Formerly she was a firm believer in sleeping without a stitch of clothing. What warmth a fire failed to provide she was capable of creating herself. More recently she’s taken to sleeping in whatever she was wearing that day, or comfortable clothing that she wears around home. This stemmed after the loss of Tobi and her life after being an initial haze of awake and drunk, or passed out in what she’d been wearing. It never changed as she healed because she found herself never alone, either Kulain or Marl making sure to sleep at her side, or Khusai poking in to check on her now and again. Now with Marl being as much a part of bedtime as her pillows and rugs, and their relationship still in the awkward stages of blooming, she’s wary of showing more of herself than the rare flash of skin he’s seen in sparring matches. ➥ Do they have any tattoos or piercings?: A single hole drilled into her left horn to allow her to dangle an earring to hold her linkpearls. ➥ What type of clothing are they most comfortable in?: Soft fabrics, freely flowing, things that let her move. Roka hates to be laced up and stiff in formal clothing,a nd when she can get away with it she finds a means to wear things that are looser and more forgiving to her active habits. ➥ What is their most disliked food?: Sour foods are not something that crosses her plate often. She makes a sole exception for the little hard candies Tobi introduced her to, and those are reserved for the nights when sleep evades her entirely and her thoughts linger on her former mate. ➥ Do they have any enemies?: Roka is not entirely sure of how people see her sometimes. She is certain there are people who dislike her, or hate her, but she’d be hard pressed to name them. Most of her enemies are in Othard, and related by blood to her. ➥ What does their writing look like?: In Doman or Othardic? Roka’s writing is flowery and flowing, not sloppy but unrestrained by concern for being perfect. When writing in common her hand is childish and unsteady. Best compared to that of a child who knows they are writing something important and are trying very hard to make it perfect, but who is still uncertain of the shapes of letters and the spelling. ➥ What disgusts them?: Those who prey on the weaker, those who single out and take advantage, those who do the worst of things to people who can’t defend themselves, who do things simply because they can. Also, strict rules, smelly cheese, and certain fruits. Just because something tastes good when you cook it doesn’t mean it’s appetizing raw. Tagged by: @nharuya @adellennehocoleux Tagging: @felidae-malcontent @kulain @utameiday @zephyrusmontenbelt @natsumimontenbelt

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cynnybun · 8 years ago

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Character Profile: Eden

i decided to try filling out @five5sixers‘s character profile to get past my writing block! i found it really helpful for analyzing and digging deeper into eden’s character and personality, something i was having trouble with when trying to write. i highly recommend it for both this purpose and just for funsies!

Name: Eden Antheia Flynn

Gender: Female

Alignment: Neutral Good

Orientation: Heterosexual heteroromantic (as of right now; this may change!)

Handedness: Right

MBTI Persona: ENFP-A “The Campaigner”

Western Zodiac: Aquarius sun, Scorpio moon, Libra rising (February 2nd)

Eastern Zodiac: Canon – Fire Monkey (2016) // Human AU – Gold Snake (2001)

Cardinal Virtue: Chastity

Cardinal Sin: Pride

Upright Arcana: The Sun

Reversed Arcana: Strength

Strongest Chakra: Root

Weakest Chakra: Forehead

Internal Temperament: Phlegmatic

External Temperament: Sanguine

Desired Archetype: The Magician

Presented Archetype: The Explorer

Love Style: Storge

Love Language: 1) Giving/Receiving Gifts; 2) Physical Touch

Personal Merits: Charismatic, Energetic, Warm

Personal Flaws: Hedonistic, Judgmental, Insecure

Projected Self: Eden tries very hard to appear vivacious, engaging, successful, and most of all: perfect. She puts a lot of effort into her appearance and cares a lot about how others perceive her, so she does her best to always be at and look her best. She is not against showing her “soft, gooey center,” but only to the right people at the right time. More than anything she wants to be seen as glamorous and full of life, soft and admirable with no reason to doubt her. “Idolized” is a strong word for what she wants, but she does want to be a role model or someone that people feel comfortable coming to for advice or input.

Subjective Self: For all of her efforts, Eden seems to be successful in crafting her persona—after all, it’s not completely fake. She comes across as lively and outgoing and warm, all smiles and sassy comments. Close friends see more of her than any others, but not everything. So far only Ian has seen her drop her façade and reveal her inner insecurities, but others may catch glimpses in a faltering smile or a far-off look in her eyes. Regardless of what they think of her, very few are able to ignore or miss her entirely.

Objective Self: To put it simply, Eden is conflicted and constantly torn between being herself and living up to the expectations of those around her. She feels that she must keep everything negative bottled up and project only the good, happy things that others will be comfortable with and praise. She is incredibly observant and is constantly thinking about how others view her or how something may come across, but is not afraid of hurting feelings. Underneath all of her genuine warmth and energy there are deep-seated insecurities about who she is and her place and purpose in life. She struggles internally with her own desires and social pressure from multiple sources.

Openness to Experience: Eden is willing to try anything once, so long as it will not obviously cause physical harm to herself or others or does not go against any of her (admittedly few) morals. Her level of excitement may vary, but very rarely will she outright turn something or someone down. The nymph will often grow bored in the presence of too much routine and repetition—she craves variety even if it is as simple as taking a different route home. She is also incredibly sensitive to emotions both negative and positive, in both herself and in others. Whether or not she deals with them well is another story entirely.

Conscientiousness: If it matters to her, it will get done and be done well. If not, good luck getting Eden to do anything on time or with very much effort. “Disciplined” is not normally a word used to describe Eden, but she is determined and driven in regards to her personal goals and tasks she considers important. Chores? Not so much. Though she appreciates the security that a well-thought-out plan provides, life is boring to her without an element of spontaneity. She often finds a middle-ground by planning only one or two days in advance, and only the most important things like transportation, meeting time, and money. Her personal space is neither overly tidy nor a sty, rather a sort of “organized chaos” wherein she still knows where everything is.

Extraversion: Depending on her mood, Eden will either love or tolerate being the center of attention. She does not necessarily need to know everyone in a crowd to have a good time; simply browsing a busy shopping center will energize her just fine. She does not intentionally draw attention to herself but will not avoid it if offered or given. She has no trouble approaching strangers or near-strangers for casual conversation and likes to spend time around others. Unfortunately, in her more depressive moods Eden will do a complete 180-degree turn and virtually avoid any and all social contact.

Agreeableness: Though generally a friendly and sociable person, Eden often believes her way is the best way. She will not go out of her way to get along with others if they rub her the wrong way and certainly will not ignore friction in favor of peace. Even if she never strikes when unprovoked, Eden has no qualms about retaliating or defending herself. Those that she feels close to are doted on and prioritized—distant acquaintances are not. If someone feels comfortable spilling their secrets to her or coming to her for advice, Eden will provide it if she feels comfortable doing so. Though she is willing to help others with their problems, she will only rarely and vaguely describe her own.

Neuroticism: Despite outward appearances Eden would score relatively high on neuroticism. Though she often does not show it, negative emotions not only consume her often but also cause her significant distress. She is not overly pessimistic or dramatic when presented with a problem; rather, her worries stem from her own insecurities and anything that confirms them. But never fear! Any faltering smile or furrowed brow is quickly wiped away.

Objectivity: Eden is objective only when following directions or directing others; otherwise, all of her decisions and opinions stem from how she feels about things. How she views other people, trends, right and wrong, and even which rules need following are all subject to her personal opinions and experience. Not only that, but once her mind is made up it is difficult to change it. Eden is quick to judge and quick to decide how she feels about something or someone, and only the most persuasive of people would be able to make her consider a different viewpoint.

Resourcefulness: Eden is fiercely independent to the point of self-sabotage. She has difficultly asking for and accepting help, but not necessarily because she doesn’t think she needs it. She simply wants to be able to take care of herself and do things on her own at this point in her life. When faced with adversity of any kind Eden will often bottle it up in the moment and take on a very headstrong, problem-solving approach. But when it is over or when she has a quiet moment to herself it will consume her and she will spiral into quietly contained panic that is often expressed in restless movement, pacing, or distracting herself with mindless tasks to try to take her mind off of it. Though she has coping mechanisms to use if needed, they are not necessarily good. Only once she has exhausted herself trying to think of solutions on her own will she ask for help, and that person should know that she is really struggling.

#my ocs #eden #writing #lab 305 #this was so fun!!#and so helpful

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