#a wave of stuff happened and burnout hit hard

[hla-vrai]

hello dr freeman! it's nice to meet you!

[lifesteal-headcanons]

People who are from Lifesteal have certain traits that automatically give them away on other servers. Of course, there’s the paranoia and focus on PVP, but much smaller things as well.

They eat golden apples exclusively, although they will hoard bread and steak. A balanced diet is near nonexistent for them.

When they must attend a meeting, especially with a stranger, they will remain as far as possible within hearing distance unless they have no choice. And god forbid they hear a suspicious noise or when someone finishes their speech, because they’ll instinctively crouch with shields up, anticipating an ambush.

Speaking of ambushes… because of how many they’ve endured, they find peace more suspicious than violence. They are the first to pick up on silence, and try to figure out why everything is quiet. They also learn to distinguish between different players’ footfalls quickly — sometimes they can detect someone from twenty blocks away, and figure out if they are friend or foe.

Gift giving is kept to a bare minimum unless it is with a close friend. And gifts given with good intent are always passed from hand to hand, unwrapped, so the receiver knows exactly what it is and that it isn’t a trap. Half the time, these gifts are chosen for their rarity or function, not sentimental value.

Their inventories are at least half full with potions, cobwebs, ender pearls, and weapons. Without exception. Other server mates invite them to a build battle and they show up with full enchanted netherite; a shield in one hand and a wood block in the other. When going to bed, they keep their stuff in a sling tied to their waists. When tentatively asked “is all that gear too heavy?” they wave off all concerns.

They have a strange relationship with obsidian. Being a block that can withstand TNT blasts and is plain painful to mine through, it makes for a good shield and the foundation for semi-permanent builds (because nothing really lasts forever on Lifesteal). But at the same time, 80% of all lifestealers recall being trapped in some form or another with this block, so it is connected to lots of bad memories. So former Lifesteal members always either gravitate to obsidian for its protection or avoid it instinctively.

Not all Lifesteal players are good at PVP, but most of them will solo any contests involving speed or agility. Being quick in thinking and reflexes saves precious hearts, so parkour and races are commonplace for them. Sometimes as they run, the heartbeats pounding in their ears remind them of a different time, when the punishment for falling behind wasn’t failure, but death. Sometimes, they swear they smell blood in their nostrils.

Lifestealers are careful with their words, especially with players they perceive are stronger than them. It might come as a surprise, on a server where people are quicker to grab their swords than a compromise. But after all the compulsory bloodshed, no Lifestealer wants more (unless they happen to be Clownpierce). So they pick their words carefully in front of others, trying their best to sound neutral but not a pushover, clear but not blunt, to minimize aggression and prevent misunderstandings.

— 🌀anon

PS: Sorry for the huge swath of text, it’s been a while since I’ve posted! Burnout and summer responsibilities hit hard, but I’m back now, all my headcannons in tow.

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[polarisbibliotheque]

About the time a guy was being creepy to me on a professional setting and my gut feeling told me "GET OUT NOW"

Ok, so hi! This post has to do with a reblog recently here in my blog, on one of my fics regarding Dante and Vergil with an s/o suffering from being hit on without their consent. I write Devil May Cry fanfiction and that was my way of coping with a CREEP being, well, a creep.

Who would've known, fanfic is therapeutical

My answer got so big, I decided to make a separate post about it - and I'm talking like this because, if this gets out the DMC sphere and other people read it, they'll understand the fandom talk a little bit. This is not just for the fandom, but everyone out there.

Including men. All of us are prone to being targets of creeps - even if I'll be telling about my experience as a woman, take this advice to your heart NO MATTER your gender.

When this episode happened in my life, I was 27 y/o, I think...? I got pushed into such a stupid corner by this guy who kept messaging me with "work related" stuff... And my family wasn't validating my "this is weird" feeling.

So... What happened?

(TW: I mention the words "rape" and "sexual abuse" but none of that has happened. It was a red flag and I want to talk about avoiding it like the plague and how people might dismiss your gut feeling when something is wrong. I write with brutal honesty, curse words and don't censor anything, because I'm here to tell people how it is not curating content to go viral on clean ~family friendly~ social media. This is honest advice I'd give someone else, so it's just a heads up. I'm a little jaded with all the censoring of "forbidden words" when you have to discuss serious subjects like this nowadays hahahaha)

First context, I'm a Lawyer. Hi. I know it doesn't sound like it Second context, I'm from Latin America. Hi again!

Well, in my country, we have to vote every couple of years for the National Lawyer Association President and Vice-President (for my USA people, it's like the BAR association for Lawyers - meaning only lawyers who have passed the BAR and are, indeed, full-fledged to the association and with a lawyer permit can vote). I hate it, but it is what it is, I have to vote every time for one of those posh speaking clowns or else.

This much older guy stopped me at the entrance to the voting building to do some political propaganda of one of the candidates. Expected. They weren't the ones I was gonna vote 'cause their agenda didn't fit what I wanted for the Association - nevertheless, I smiled and was polite. Guy wouldn't shut up, but that's a lawyer thing. Kept being polite, dismissed him kindly and went inside to vote.

As I came back, guy is there and stops me. I had called my mom to give me a ride home - by that time, I had been broke and without a job for 2 years up until that point, trying to get back into the ~lawyer business~ and recover from a very bad burnout, so paying a ride back home was a big no. I had my phone on my hand and kept chatting because, you know, networking. You never know.

Now, mind you. I'm about to celebrate my 30th birthday this year, but people seriously think I'm underage wherever I go. I have to literally show them my credentials and ID so they can believe a single word I say. This guy, must've been around his 50s or something - and I look like a teen or, at best, 20 years old. I graduated when I was 22, so that's the most he could've imagined I was.

As we're talking, dude is flexing his career so hard I start to do the same. He says he has known the President and influential people in politics (back then, far-right government, so red flag already waving in the horizon), he has an office both here and in New York and Miami, he has worked with the FBI (we're in Latin America, the USA stuff is a flex for far-right people). I say I have worked as the Labor Lawyer in a huge worldwide known multinational company, coordinated with people in the USA and UK, had around 100 cases to manage monthly and keep the company in order when the directors were not around.

Guy is impressed and asks for my contact on LinkedIn. I'm down for it, I'm looking for a job and he could be one hell of a way to get back on business. Dude mentions he's in digital law and, heck, I wanted so bad to get into digital law! It was like he was put in my way by the angels to help me get back on my feet!

He asks for my resumé and my cellphone number, so he can have me in his office to have a cup of coffee. I am soaring by now. "That's it!!" I think "That's my ticket back to being a lawyer, to having my own money, to breaking the cycle of unemployment and having my career back!" - so I do it! I give him my number!

hello, workaholic aunt here speaking, my career was everything to me, I'd do everything for it

After I got back home, told my mom everything, and everyone was so happy. That's when he started sending me messages - asking for my address so he could send me some lawyer magazines and such... Even though he had asked when we were talking before and I changed the subject. I didn't give him of course, but instead sent him my resumé.

So, next day he asks me about that coffee and I said we can make it happen... Even if he got my name wrong. I have a pretty exotic name in whatever country I go, so it's a common mistake, known to happen, no one can pronounce my name right if I don't teach them how to, so yeah. I'm willing to gloss over that.

I'm assuming he read my resumé, saw how smart, capable and hardworking I am, and wants to talk business. Wants to offer me a job. I'm super ready. I'm taking my business clothes out of the closet, I'm cleaning my high heel black boots, I'm checking my references and vocabulary so I don't screw up. Guy sends a message saying he wants to take me out for lunch.

Red flag. My instincts flare up and I'm just staring at the screen. I start reviewing everything. I mean... Business lunches are ok, right? I had lunches with my manager and director plenty of times back in the day and it never got weird. So... Why was I feeling weird now...?

Guy says we can go out for lunch and then back at his office so he can show me around. I was like "hmmm... ok? shouldn't be weird. this is normal." but nevertheless I went to check with my mom and my sister.

Both said it was fine. I was feeling weird because it's a guy and me and I shouldn't be feeling uneasy - it's my social anxiety/workplace trauma talking. It's the opportunity of a lifetime. I shouldn't screw up.

I keep talking to him. I ask where we should meet up for this lunch and he tells me to give him my address, so he could pick me up and we can go to "a nice place to have lunch" (his words, not mine).

Red flags are dancing around my head. I keep thinking "have I lead him on something????" and going mad. What was I wearing? Only work clothes, that's all - suit pants, black high heel boots, dark silk shirt and only a nude lipstick so my lips wouldn't get chapped. My shirt didn't even show cleavage.

It's ridiculous how I feel this is a thing I should add 'cause heaven forbid the cleavage

What about what I've said? Did I accidentally flirt?? 'Cause that's been known to happen - I'm a clueless ace who can't for the life of me notice when people are flirting or not or notice when people think I'm flirting with them. And usually when they are not flirting or being attractive, that's when the magic happens for me! So... What gives?! Did I do something wrong, that sent the wrong message?

I mean, I was nice, yes. But you're supposed to be nice to people. I'm not gonna be rude just because most guys can't keep it in their pants.

I go over the messages. I didn't do anything strictly not business like. I'm very good at that. I have only worked responding to men as bosses in my life, had four male bosses before him, all different ages, marital status, star signs, backgrounds, lives. The best colleagues and co-workers I used to spend hours having coffee and laughing with were men. So I know how to keep professional and not mixing things up. It wasn't a slip up from my side.

Well, then there's always the chance I was going crazy and overreacting, soooo... I go over to my mom and sister. They think it's weird, yes, but they do think that's exactly what's going on: I'm overreacting and my social anxiety/workplace trauma is blocking me from pursuing this opportunity that can help my career - and make me have a salary again so I can help at home.

Ok. I though up and go back to talking to him. I tell him fine but I'll go to the place myself, so he can tell me where he's thinking about having lunch. Guy tells me nothing and keeps insisting I give him my address and he will give me a ride so we can "get to know each other better".

My GODS I've never felt so uncomfortable. Not even when I had to stay ONLY with my boss working until 1 am, only the two of us in the company building, every light out except the one in the room we were in, him being around 15 years older than me and very confident, with the two of us having one of the best work chemistry I had in my LIFE.

He could've done ANYTHING to me, but we only talked strictly work. We were tired, he waited for my mom to pick me up at 1 am outside so nothing bad would happen to me, both of us under an umbrella, he apologized to my mom for having me stay at work so late and then went back home to his wife and kid. I NEVER, at ANY moment felt unsafe around him. He was my mentor, he was my boss, he was a good colleague and even somewhat of a friend.

So why on EARTH was I feeling SO UNCOMFORTABLE with this guy I had only met ONCE face to face in my life?

I start to voice my concerns. My mom and my sister think I'm only saying that because I don't want to go back to work. That I want to throw my career away because I can't control my anxiety and my feelings. We fight a couple of times and a couple of days. My mom tells my aunt about it. My aunt goes full FBI and does a background check on this dude.

That's when she told my mom some things weren't adding up. His LinkedIn profile was a little too weird and he had no ties whatsoever with the elected President of the Lawyer Association - was he really someone in their team for propaganda? Nevertheless, he did have an office and did work with digital law, both here and in the USA. I shouldn't let this opportunity slip.

I got so mad. SO MAD. To the point my sister decided to ask her boyfriend for his opinion on all of it and he was like "hey... your sister is kinda right. guy wouldn't offer to take ME to a nice restaurant to have lunch and go to his office later for a coffee, would he...? I mean, this never happened to me" - and sis' boyfriend is on the business meetings and negotiations/selling part of the spectrum. He knows what he's talking about.

So now I finally have a man validating my concerns.

I take the decision to shut the whole thing down. I go "very well, I will NOT meet him, I will NOT maintain contact with him, he's treating me like a whore he picked up on the street". At this point, I am FUCKING FUMING. But still, my sister and mom gave him the benefit of the doubt and made me feel like I was doing something wrong.

So I decided to marinate him for a while.

I should note that all his messages were sent close or around midnight, not at working hours. And I only answered at working hours. Since I was taking a while to respond, my dude just goes like, and I kid you not, "ooooh she's not answering, she's ignoring me, I don't like that *sad emoji*" LIKE A FUCKING 13 YEAR OLD (no offense, 13 y/o peoples, but this dude is a FULL GROWN ASS MAN).

I am offended, I am flabbergasted and I wish I could suplex him to oblivion.

I show my mom the message. She just stares at me in awe. She FINALLY is like "yeah, ok, this isn't very professional". ALL THIS TIME, I never really told her what I was thinking and what was really worrying me. And then I break her the news that, what I'm really afraid of, is that this guy is going to rape me in his car. Or he's going to drive me somewhere I can't fight or scream and then he'll rape me. Whatever the scenario, it ended up with me being raped and I was scared. SO. FUCKING. SCARED.

My mom goes into Sphinx mode - that's when she doesn't answer and doesn't even look at me and just ~thinks~. It's a brutal reality she doesn't like and I don't like it either, I mean, it's my safety we're talking about here.

I shut down the guy completely. I tell him there's a family emergency and I couldn't continue to give him any attention nor I could go out for that lunch and I couldn't talk anymore. He SUDDENLY goes cold and "I am sorry if any of my messages seemed inconvenient. Do answer when you have the time so we can make an appointment." And that's it. No more messages. He's done in my book.

My mom tells my aunt. Aunt goes Sherlock Holmes mode this time and, lo and behold, they find an website of this guy's office. My mom is shocked at how 90's internet it looks for a guy who works with digital law. She then recognizes the address of the office but the doesn't remember of any office building in that street - so she Googles it.

His "office" is actually a residential building - meaning, it was his home address. She shows it to me and I want to cry - out of rage, shame, fear, sadness. I go like "yeah, this is the place he wanted me to go, to his home. What was he going to do to me there, huh?" - and I think the answer is pretty obvious.

Later, speaking to my sister, she's like "I dunno why you're so mad" and I'm like "WELL MISS I just got PICKED UP LIKE A WHORE outside of an OFFICIAL EVENT for the NATIONAL LAWYER ASSOCIATION while I was DRESSED UP PROFESSIONALLY and looking for PROFESSIONAL opportunities and I COULD HAVE BEEN RAPED. I think I have all the right in the FUCKING WORLD to be FUMING."

That's when we diverged some more. She just said like "hey that's how the world works: women are treated like whores - you weren't the first one to have this happen to you and you won't be the last. What are you gonna do about it? Get over it."

Oh. Boy. I looked at my sister's eyes. I saw her just staring at me weirdly. A storm was approaching. The skies darkened. Bury the Light started playing in the background. Vergil's doppelgänger was standing behind me like an angel of death. (All DMC references for my non-DMC peoples)

"Well. I wanna have power. So much fucking power in this world that no one ever even thinks about treating me like that again. So much power they will fear standing in front of me and saying those words - they will look into my eyes and shut up. So much power I will never be afraid to walk on my own again and I will never have to doubt my feelings when I'm feeling unsafe because some lowlife pitiful little shit decided I should be a whore to satisfy him. I want to have power so I will never be this helpless again."

Cue in my sister just sitting there with butter in the slice of bread in her hand, staring at me like "wtf man... do you need a hug...?" and me doing a dramatic exit back to my room to, well... Write the fanfic in question.

(For my DMC creatures: I never even thought of Vergil when I said all of this, I just noted that thought later in my diary and reading it a couple of days later I was like "omg I have become my worst enemy, fuck you Verge" because I kid you not, I used to hate this man with all the fibers of my being - hence where my longfic Nemesis came from. I realized I lived long enough to become my worst enemy - and maybe I hated him because Vergil made me look at the part of myself I didn't like and didn't want to admit existed *I'm laughing while writing this, I do find it weirdly amusing*)

DMC things aside, this WHOLE episode made me feel so frustrated. I never had anyone to validate me, only people doubting me or asking me if I lead him on, or what was I wearing, or if I smiled too much, if I was being too nice, if I said something inappropriate, and so on. I had to get it all off my chest and I thought maybe, juuuust maybe, Dante and Vergil would've been more supportive regarding that.

Because, you know, they know trauma and they are protective as fuck. They can have all the red flags and mental issues in this world, but I don't think they would EVER dismiss their partner - especially a woman - feeling unsafe and fearing being abused or raped. In order to trust, you have to give the person and opportunity and room to open up to you without judgements - and I do think they aren't very judgy people.

I mean, they are demons, for fuck's sake. They can't judge anything especially Vergil

Also, I don't blame my mom nor my sister (even if I got really mad at her). In the end, both of them wanted what was best for me, they thought it was an opportunity and wanted me to get my career back. Truth is, no woman knows how to act when this happens. And they didn't know how to act as well. They didn't want to think of the worst: just like I was doubting myself and my own feelings, they were doubting theirs as well. We ALL had to be validated by a man to admit something was wrong and we weren't hysterical.

Ok, ok, storytime over. But I felt like sharing this because people, you are ALWAYS valid in your concerns - and there's no clothing, no smile, no attitude, no NOTHING that JUSTIFIES abuse. If you're abused or feeling like someone wants to take advantage of you, especially sexually, YOUR FEELINGS AND FEARS ARE VALID. Don't shrug it off or water it down just because people are saying you're overreacting - if I had listened to everyone around me instead of my gut feeling that something was REALLY wrong, only the gods know what would've happened. But I'll tell ya, it probably wouldn't have been good for me.

At best, I'd be mad this guy would want to pick me up like a whore and I'd have to turn him down and take a ride home. At worst, he would've raped me - in his car, at the "restaurant", at his "office". We don't know, but I didn't want to "give luck to bad luck" as we say where I live.

I didn't have support, so I wrote a story to feel supported by the fictional characters I look up to - I wished SO bad I was dating someone, especially a man, who'd tell me he'd go through hell and back to keep me safe and wouldn't allow anyone to hurt me and validate my feelings. Someone who would make me feel safe and I wouldn't have to only rely on myself.

cue in V saying he too wanted to be loved and protected, I tell you, all this time I thought I hated Vergil when I had only found my nemesis in a mirror

So, don't ever doubt yourselves. Don't ever doubt your gut feelings. We might want validation and someone to keep us safe, but sometimes we don't have that and have to rely on our survival mode. It sucks, but there's a reason why that thing is called "survival": it keeps you alive. It keeps you going.

And no one, NO ONE has the right to say you're overreacting, you're being hysterical, you're reading too much into it, you're just trying to find the easy way out, you just don't want an opportunity because you're lazy, you're crazy and deranged, etc, etc.

If your gut is flapping red flags all around, then overreact. Be hysterical. Read too much into it, find the easy way out, be lazy, be crazy and deranged. Be the villain. Be the bad person. You're not perfect. You're not a princess. Be comfortable with people telling you you're bad - but never NEVER let go of your gut feeling when your safety is on the line.

That fucking thing WILL save your life. Being too nice, though, might not. Listen to yourself, be TRUE to yourself, and, again, don't be afraid to be bad.

Someday you might just find your half-demon man who will support you, protect you and treat you as an equal powerhouse, but until that day, keep on conquering your self-esteem and unwavering will.

I'm just saying all of this now because:

1 - I was too scared to talk about this for a looong time afraid the guy in question would find this, know it's me and my safety would be on the line again

2 - Just now I'm getting comfortable with the concept of being "seen as the villain" and being "seen as bad". My whole life I have been dancing around this because people always said I had a "difficult" personality. I watched Cruella recently and it hit home so hard. We do have things to learn from villainous characters and maybe this is just who I am. People are going to see me as bad so, who cares. Even if I'm not, it would do me good getting used to that idea - I can be more assertive to my boundaries and not allow any of this to happen again. So, there you go. It's an exercise everyone should do. Are you comfortable defending your ideas, your boundaries and your integrity even if people are mad you're not being a pushover/perfectly polite?

It's something I think all of us should think about ;)

Also

thanks for coming to my TED Talk :')

[ridreamir]

hi👋 if it's okay, can I ask for more ingo and emmet content? Your au stuff is amazing!

Yes, of course! I'm sorry I haven't been posting lately, I get hit with burnout quickly but I'm well enough to be writing again--

I do have a few asks in my queue that I may not be able to get to quickly because I'm having a hard time following the prompt. but aside from that, I'll try to go from oldest to newest! I'll also try to be better about using the "read more" page break now that I know about it just so my posts aren't so long in your feeds! I sort of want a magic AU or even magic college AU where the twins are co-teachers with the current subject being magical beasts and you're just some scruffy college student who ends up being a natural creachur magnet : ) Whoopsie I accidentally turned this post into a magic college AU concept lmao also there's a hint of N and Colress in here too... whoops again :') this isn't written very well, but I'm not at my best and I'm willing to settle for less right now. Part 1?

.

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If you were being honest with yourself, you had no idea what you were doing here, or how you'd even got in to begin with, but whatever the hell was happening right now made absolutely zero sense and you were terrified for it. Note to self: don't follow any suspicious fluffy green-haired upperclassmen anywhere. The guy was a total wackjob, said something that you didn't quite understand, waved you over, and led the doors to a definitely-not-there-before part of campus. On your first day. In his defense, he thought you knew, but one very large disaster later and he soon realized that was not, in fact, the case.

The man responsible for your enrollment had called himself a "scientist", said he was part of staff and would personally vouch for you, that there'd be no issues, you just had to say yes. Of course you were sketched out, but this was free college you were talking about, right after you just got done explaining to this random stranger that you have no discernable skills or talent, no credentials, you s u c k .

Well he made it all seem very official. He even carried pamphlets and business cards, but you should have realized that this was all just a cult scheme, that you were being kidnapped, and that you were now trapped in your worst hallucinogenic nightmare.

"Excuse us!" "PARDON!" A flash of black and white came barrelling down the wide, surprisingly spacious halls. "Make way!" A gloved hand shot out to stop you from stumbling into the path of a very large, very slimy eel thing.

He paid you no mind at first, his arm still across your chest holding you upright, but then his focus redirected to your no doubt horrified expression and suddenly his interest was piqued.

"Oh my-" he stepped aside, avoiding one of the flailing appendages. His counterpart had managed to stop the creature from proceeding down the hall, unfortunately very close to where you were standing. "Why, I don't think we've been acquainted, but I recognize you. Why is that?" 'You're asking me?' You deadpanned, somehow able to think in the midst of your brain melting. He pivoted his frankly gigantic-compared-to-you body and literally pointed himself to look at you, his eyes (grey, you noted, very steely grey) focused on your face. Just as he did so, the creature made a loud, metallic clash of a shriek, and suddenly the shadow of a huge megalithic abomination blotted out all of the light from the windows, standing over you. So this is how you die. It smacked the huge man out of the way with one sweep of its slimy arm (arm?) and hunched over to show you up close its countless rows of spinning teeth. Then the other person who you'd not yet had a good look at slammed into its side, making it whine and screech as it flailed beneath his tackle. "Stop it! Don't you see you're scaring this student? What's gotten into you?!" He scolded the monster(?) which was still trying to throw him off at this point. It sounded almost like it was whining, though there was some sort of static sound that distorted its cries. Before either of them could direct their attention back to you, the world was already sideways. Instead of hitting the cold hard tiled ground, however, your fall was cushioned by something plush and soft.

[onceuponamirror]

ghosts

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore.

[set between 2x05-2x06] [read on ao3!]

“What’re you thinking about?”

Nancy turns to look over her shoulder, surprised to see Ace standing there, hands in the pockets of his puffer. He has a smile emerging from the corner of his mouth, which broadens slightly after a moment. “You look super serious. Am I interrupting something heavy?”

“What? No,” she says, clearing her thoughts, and echoes his grin. “I just thinking about…ghosts.”

“Ghosts,” Ace repeats, and drops into the seat beside her. She’s sitting on the table, whereas he’s planted on the bench, and yet they’re still at eye-level.

She blows out a breath and shakes her head slightly. “Yeah, ghosts. With everything happening so fast last month, I feel like…I didn’t fully process…” She pauses, and waves her hands for exaggeration, “Ghosts. They’re real.”

He furrows his brow, as if waiting for her to continue, or to finish her thought.

Nancy falls back on her palms, glancing up briefly at the darkened sky. “It’s just—I’m supposed to be this…Hero of Horseshoe Bay, or whatever they want to call me in the papers. I don’t really care about that but—solving mysteries is the only thing I’ve been good at, and…”

Ace passes her a slightly mischievous smile. “Is this about me coming for your title? I’m a ‘Hero’ too.”

She rolls her eyes and bumps his shoulder with her own. “No, it’s…I make logical leaps. That’s all it is. How can you make logical leaps with supernatural stuff?”

“Ah,” Ace says.

“If ghosts are real, what else is? And what won’t I be able to solve because I didn’t think to consider…Bigfoot, or something? I don’t know if I’ll be any good at this when the rules of physics don’t apply.”

“Nancy,” Ace says slowly, “all due respect, but that’s super dumb. You’ve already solved like, three ghosts mysteries by now.” She opens her mouth with mock offense, but he just grins at her, and she’s unable to stop herself from matching it again. “You’re good at this. Dead or undead. Besides—people always say stuff about physics as if it just relates to gravity. It’s a lot more flexible than that.”

She cocks her neck. “What do you mean?”

Ace shrugs. “Like, I went down a Wikipedia rabbit hole one night. A lot of physics is about theorizing about other dimensions and energy, and matter. Like—there’s that rule, that matter can neither be created nor destroyed. I think it’s mostly about decay or whatever, like how when we die we go back to the ground, but maybe there’s another part, like with our soul, that sticks around. Who’s to say that doesn’t encompass ghosts?”

Nancy just stares at him, dumbfounded. When she first met Ace, he’d struck her as a quiet slacker; another fellow high school burnout. It’s almost upsetting how much she’d misjudged him. “How the hell do you know that?”

As if slightly embarrassed, Ace ducks his face down, but she can still see his smile. He shrugs again. “Like I said, I love a good Wikipedia black hole. Which, coincidentally, has a great article on black holes.” They meet each other’s eyes, and Nancy feels something sputter against her chest, suddenly deeply aware of their proximity. She wonders if he feels it too, because he clears his throat. “Anyway, I don’t sleep super well. So it gives me a lot of time to collect increasingly random knowledge.” He taps his temple. “It’s a steel trap of trivia.”

She raises her eyebrows, still taking him in. He never seems to stop surprising her. “How did we not know each other in high school? You would’ve been super helpful on some of my earlier cases, you know.”

“I thought you worked alone then,” he says, somewhat teasingly, but like he’s avoiding her question. After a moment, he sighs. “I knew you, you just didn’t know me. We actually had art together, I think.”

“No way,” she says at once, before she can think on it. “I would’ve noticed you.”

It’s his turn for his eyebrows to jump on his forehead. Her neck flushes hotly, but mercifully, he looks away from her. “Nah. I was barely there. I was kind of a big stoner in high school.”

“I’m shocked,” she says dully, and he laughs. At the sound, her chest tightens again.

“I know. It really plays against type,” he counters, smirking.

She laughs, and a silence falls over them gently. She’s still surprised they had a class together and she didn’t even know him—even if they didn’t run in the same circles, he was still Ace. If she wracks her brain, she has a vague memory of a skinny kid in a backwards baseball cap and an oversized plaid shirt, but it’s hard to reckon that with the long-haired, soft-eyed, much more muscled boy who sits beside her.

When her thoughts finally return to the present, she finds him watching her. She turns slowly to face him, breath catching against her chest. Her eyes dart down to his mouth, and he does the same. Anxiously, she pushes her hair behind her ears, unwilling to let this moment last. This is Ace. Get it together.

“What?” He asks, his tone something low and velvety.

She laces her fingers together and tips her chin up, wistfully watching a faint star. “What are you still doing here?” She asks, and he meets her eye again, confused this time. “I mean, you’re smart. You never wanted to get out of Horseshoe Bay? Go to college?”

Ace leans back on his elbows. “Nah,” he says, but something in his voice betrays his attempt at casualness. “I didn’t have the grades, even if I wanted to.” Nancy purses her lips, not sure she believes him. He shifts uncomfortably, like he can tell. “Pothead,” he adds, impishly. “I took a couple of classes at the community college, but…I dunno, I got bored. I’ve had pretty much every job in town, at this point. Never really held anything down, ‘til now.”

“Yeah?” She asks, breathily.

“Worked on a lobster fishing boat for a summer. That was really hard,” he supplies, and Nancy wonders if that was the cause of his transformation from skinny kid in art class to the surprisingly toned boy beside her. “Worked at the video store, until they went out of business. Worked at the library for a bit. That didn’t work out, for obvious reasons.”

“Obviously,” she echoes, grinning at him. He rolls his eyes playfully.

“Last year I even worked at the yacht club,” he adds, glancing away from her. “That’s where I met Laura Tandy.”

At the mention of his ex, Nancy straightens. She tries not to put too much thought into the strange reaction her body has, deciding instead to dig at the larger thought that still nags. “Do you ever wish you’d gone with her? To Paris, I mean. Had adventures…left Maine?”

“Nance, I’m pretty sure adventure isn’t geography-specific at this point,” he sighs, throwing her a knowing look. There’s a slight thrill at him calling her ‘Nance’, and she tries to push it down. “But no,” he sighs. “My dad…I still think he needs me. He keeps trying to go back to work, as if he doesn’t remember why he left in the first place. Someone has to remind him.”

A soft hum escapes from the back of her throat. Privately, she thinks there’s something loaded there, something buried. A lie to himself, maybe. From her observation, Ace and his father are very much alike, but she doesn’t think he’d want to hear that.

Faintly, Nancy can hear the waves crashing into the shoreline down the road. A buoy rings against the water. She takes a breath. “So…you don’t regret not leaving?”

“Do you?” He counters, as if knowing she wasn’t just talking about him anymore. She levels him with a warning look, but he doesn’t back down, just piques an eyebrow.

“I don’t know,” she says, honestly. “Right now, no.” She bumps him with her shoulder again. “Look at us. A couple of townie burnouts.”

He grins. “Somebody’s gotta do it.”

Another blanket of silence settles between them, but gentle this time. Again, the waves lap against the shore.

“I still can’t believe I didn’t know you,” she says quietly, perhaps not meaning to say it aloud. Somewhere along the way, he became such a fixture. But she supposes that goes for all of her friends—she was so different in high school. She’s not sure she’s someone she would’ve liked now. She realizes Ace is looking at her again. “I just mean, it’s such a small town. Like, I don’t even know your last name,” she adds.

He still hasn’t budged, soft smile and all. “Oh, it’s—”

“Yo! Lazy Drew! Are we gonna Boggle or what?” George’s voice floats across The Claw’s back deck, and they both turn around to see her at the back exit, her hands on her hips, lit warmly from behind. “Ace, you said you were gonna go get her and come right back.”

“My bad,” he says, getting to his feet. He offers her his hand down, even though it’s barely a jump to the ground. She takes it anyway, but it hits her with a shock of static so strong that she drops it like a hot potato. His eyes are anywhere but on her.

“Game night waits for no man,” George says drolly, holding the door open for them.

“Fine, fine,” she mutters, passing through the doorway. She spins around and points at George. “Tonight, we Boggle, but tomorrow—trivia night. Teams.”

“I’m game,” Ace pips up, as George only rolls her eyes and nods as she struts past them, towards the booth where Bess and Nick wait.

“Tomorrow, you’re on my team, Mr. Steel Trap,” Nancy whispers to him, leaning in conspiratorially. His body heat warms against her skin, even through her light sweater.

His smile is soft. “Any time.”

[racingtoaredlight]

Marshall Amps

This is Slayer’s backdrop for some recent tour of theirs.

If you’ve followed rock music at all, the “wall of Marshalls” is so iconic, it’s hard to separate the subject of the imagery from the backdrop of Marshall speakers.  Jimmy Page, Slash, Zakk Wylde, Eric Clapton...to name a few...but the man who made Marshalls the “greatest amps of all time” is none other than you know who...

So what is it with Marshalls?  Why did they become the “greatest amps of all time” yet seemingly don’t have a place in today’s guitar world?

***

What defines Marshall amps?

They have “Marshall” written on them.

Kidding aside, you will never hear about Marshall amps being called “versatile.”  “Clean” is something they do out of necessity, not design.  They are stupidly heavy.  They are a pain in the ass to maintain.  They only sound good at volumes that would peel the enamel off your teeth...and that’s just the 50w models, let alone the big boys.

Marshall amps really do one thing well...overdrive.  If you’re in a band that plays loud, plays dirty and plays aggressive, then Marshalls are likely right in your wheelhouse.  Bonus points if someone else is carrying your gear.

Any level of dirt...from bluesy hair on the note to full out metal grind...a Marshall is right at home.  When you overdrive the tubes in a Marshall and they start to produce those beautiful overtones and harmonics, it’s truly a sound of beauty that prickles the hair on the back of your neck.

***

Historical Context Part 1

To define Marshall amps, we need to start with their history.

Remember how when I used to actually write, I’d talk about putting things in historical context?  Lets go back to the early 60���s.  There is ONE amp company doing business on both sides of the Atlantic, Fender.  And, despite being primitive and archaic, those early Tweed Fender amps are still today some of the best sounding amps money can buy, which is even more impressive considering that a 10 year old who can use a soldering iron could build one.

But in America, it’s easy to source parts for an American company’s amp like Fender.  It’s right there in the country, stupid.  But for a company...shit, that’s not even accurate given they weren’t a company yet...for a Brit like Jim Marshall, you had to get creative.

Marshalls, at their very, foundational core, are almost a direct plagiarism of the Fender Bassman amp.  I mean, it’s exactly the same amplifier except for one key difference...the tubes.  The Atlantic Ocean thing mentioned earlier is a big deal...the 6v6 and 6L6 power tubes that Leo Fender used, nothing more than run of the mill military-spec electrical tubes, weren’t available.  Tubes might not be the lifeblood of an amp (the circuit is), but different tubes have a hugely variable presence in practical settings.

Given that most tube amps are powered by tubes that came from either the US, UK or Russian military industrial complexes...and there not being the internet or a secondary market for any of this shit...Marshall used, first, KT66 Russian tubes, and later British EL34 (big bottles) and EL84 (little bottles), depending on use.

As Marshall’s blew up (and it happened quickly), and musicians started playing bigger and bigger halls, Marshall took that Bassman ripoff and housed it in larger cabinets allowing him to add more tubes, and therefore, more power.  It was the perfect storm...

***

Historical Context Part II...the important stuff

So I linked to a bunch of pics above...famous dudes standing in front of walls of Marshalls.  The one I really want to hit on is the Eric Clapton one...

I just mentioned this a couple paragraphs above, but it bears repeating...there was no secondary market for things like tubes, caps, speakers, etc.  That pic of Clapton?  In each of those cabinets housing four speakers, maybe one was fully operational with half of another adding a bunch of fizz.  During Cream’s final show at Royal Albert Hall, he had only one speaker installed in the entire cabinet...the rest were just empty.

Now, that’s not to say there wasn’t any sonic benefit from having cabinets project sound waves with four speakers.  Rather, if one went down, at least you could still play.

Which leads us to the important stuff...

Primitive PA systems were not only garbage to begin with, but they were typically operated by burnouts who didn’t have the first clue of how to properly EQ a room.  This was true as late as the mid 80′s.  As shitty as those PA systems were though, guess what?  That’s still how Cream’s sound got shot through Royal Albert Hall.

Given the choice though, guitarists would rather have a slew of speakers doing the work rather than mic’ing up smaller amps.  Even with this option though, there’s a long history of...behind those walls of Marshall speaker cabs...there being a single half stack with just one speaker being mic’d.

Here’s a dirty little secret...Eddie Van Halen has not just endorsed multiple amps from multiple companies, but been heavily involved in the design of a lot of those as well.  BUT, when you hear him in the studio or live, you’re not hearing any of those amps...you’re hearing this.

Despite all the noise and propaganda regarding Van Halen’s wizardry with guitar and amp parts, the sound he’s most famous for and has relied on his entire career is produced by a relatively stock Marshall 1959SLP, known as the Super Lead.  The “Brown Tone” he’s famous for isn’t due to anything special in the amp itself, rather using something called the Variax to run the 100w amp at 90w, thereby making it warmer and more efficient (Marshall’s imported to the US still made to run at 110 volts despite most American outlets being 120 volts...the Variax reduced the electrical load to the amp, while also being an accidental signal buffer, allowing him to use time-based effects like flangers and delays, where running them into the front of a Marshall would cancel out those signals).

Jesus Christ that was a long aside...there was a point here though.

***

What was that point?

When PA systems and quality mic’s and sound guys became the norm, the necessity for stacks of Marshalls really started to go to shit.  Even before the internet boom, the jokes about wannabes hauling Marshall half stacks to tiny bars with no audience were already essentially canon.

I said this above...unless you are a touring artist in a hard rock band with logistical support and no front of house...Marshalls are completely impractical.  We’re not even going to touch on declines in quality (new Marshalls built on PCB have more in common with your phone than a 1987x, even if you buy a “reissue” of a 1987x), questionable marketing and oversaturating their own market...the fact of the matter is extremely simple.  Big iron is obsolete, no matter who makes it.

Marshall themselves know this, and released the “studio” line...which might as well be called the “shit we better make smaller stuff because our sales are getting FUCKED” line.  If you’ve ever had to pack a car full of gear yourself, it takes one gig before you’re looking for smaller, lighter amps.  Those 100w Marshalls?  They sound AMAZING cranked.

But unless you play them cranked, they sound like shit.  Think about it like driving a Ferrari at 25mph all the time...

For regular working musicians like myself, a great sounding tube combo can be found under 50 lbs.  Or I could ditch all that and go with a modeler, go straight into the PA and never need an amp again (PREDICTION...you will not see amplifiers on stage outside of Nashville and niche acts in 10 years).  That’s for a working musician.

For a touring musician, you can save tens of thousands of dollars per year by not having to hire logistical staff.  You might have scoffed at my prediction above...but these days, the majority of guitar sounds you hear are made digitally by a session guitarist sitting either at home or in the control room of a studio.  That 1987x is a digital patch rather than two trips to the car and ringing ears.

Point being...amps are already obsolete.  And if your amp weighs more than 50 lbs. and has more power than say 40w, it’s remarkably obsolete, no matter how cool it is.

***

Competition

I don’t have to tell you that Marshalls’ legacy was formed in the harder forms of rock.  Take one look at those monsters and you can tell they roar.  “Roar” is an interesting concept though...

Marshalls were made before hard rock really existed.  Guitarists almost ubiquitously came from a “clean” learning point, and even what we consider small amounts of dirt like this (and during the instrumental part of Ramblin’ Man) back then were FULL-THROATED.

Personally, that’s my ideal of the Marshall sound.  That Tweedy breakup that puts a shaggy head of hair on each note.  But to just about 90% of the music-enjoying public, this is the sound that immediately comes to mind when you think of Marshalls.

Definitely more dirty than Duane Allman’s version no doubt, but if you really listen to the guitar, the edge is more due to phrasing and Slash’s ballsy attitude than the guitar tone itself.  It’s still something I’d describe as more crunchy than full on distorted.

Which brings us to the clones.  Now, what better product to copy than a style that’s been obsolete for like two decades now!

We talked about Van Halen’s supposedly modded (but really quite stock) Marshall above...well, here comes one of his amp tech buddies Michael Soldano bringing a hot-rodded Marshall to the masses.  Then Bogner follows right behind.

Slash’s tone might not be that distorted, but plenty of metal guys absolutely were, and Marshall JCM’s were their weapon of choice.  But the time the calendar turned to 1990 though, Mesa Boogie’s rectifiers were already kings of the metal scene.  Almost as much as the Telecaster dominates country music, the Mesa Boogie Rectifiers own metal.

What was the common denominator in the competition?  MORE, sure.  More dirt, more quality, blah blah blah.  The biggest reason was Marshall, the company.  Unlike Fender, Marshall never got bought by bigger companies.  While that might keep them more “genuine” you have to realize that this guy was making amps in a tiny drum shop still when he was making stuff for Hendrix and Pete Townshend.

***

While Fender’s soul got twisted in a series of corporate takeovers, what it also eventually received was outside guidance from people with business AND music knowledge.  Fender was always forward thinking, from the day Leo Fender started the company.  Jim Marshall didn’t have that same type of vision.  The idea of a Fender amp being built on PCB is something Leo Fender would have embraced.  But to Marshall, it’s killing the amp’s soul.  Fenders never were BIG IRON...i.e. huge transformers fed by big bottle tubes...they never got into the size game.

To begin with, Marshalls were a stolen design.  That might sound harsh, but it’s not being unfair either.  They were never known for quality, rather known for quirks and unreliability.  They weren’t even that unique of a sound...you can get a very similar sound from a Fender Tweed cranked...you just cant take a Tweed to a huge hall and project the sound.

We can do that today.  Easily.  Like an $80 mic and a mic cable easy.  And now you have a true, pretty much genuine Marshall roar in a 30 lb. package.

Back in the day you couldn’t demand flawless point-to-point wiring, proper voltage and ohm specs, and wide-sweeping EQ bands.  Soldano and Mesa Boogie offered these as stock parts of their offerings at the same price points.  If you were a lead guy, Soldano was your choice...if you were a metal guy, it was Mesa...and in the two niches of the guitar world Marshall absolutely dominated, they were now second class citizens.

Or maybe even worse...new poor.

***

“Marshall” is a descriptor these days.  It’s describing the sound of a tube amp with a good-sized transformer being fed by British tubes, typically EL34′s.

If you want a “Marshall,” Marshall is probably the fourth or fifth company I’d recommend.  There’s a lot of debate about this, but I do not believe amps built on PCB are worth more than $1k...shit, that’s generous because I would not personally buy an amplifier using PCB.

This is the power amp section for a new Marshall JCM.

For all you IT guys out there, you probably know that PCB ain’t exactly the most receptive thing to changes in temperature.  Hey!  I got a great idea!  Lets put power and preamp tubes, that heat the fuck up, straight on some cheap ass PCB with janky copper wiring and automated solders!

Literally the only people who will tell you PCB is fine are people who build amps for a living.  Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t give a shit about making your job easier when you’re still charging me full price and plus some.  The only people saying that there’s no reason to do a point-to-point amp are those who are too lazy to, because there’s a big boutique market for this very thing.

Lets do a real apples to apples comparison here...

The top pic is a restored 1972 Marshall 1987x.  You can buy these used for under $2k...but let’s use $2k...plus $200 restoration (just the guts, who cares about how an amp looks).  We’re at $2,200.  And this electric shit is so simple a vacuum repair shop could do it.

The bottom pic is a brand spakin’ new Marshall 1987x reissue, modeled after...you guessed it...the 1972 Marshall 1987x.  That’s some clean wiring on that particle board!  But...wait...why am I paying MORE for a less desirable model, that took exponentially less work on Marshall’s end?  Why would I subsidize their profit margins for an inferior product with less resale value?

Furthermore...the 1987x is a one-channel, stupid simple amp.  Why do you need PCB to begin with?  I get it for a Soldano or Rectifier that’s multi-channel, with huge sweeping EQ sections, reverb, etc...but this is a plug-n-play.

Marshall...the company...has been doing that to their customer base for decades.  Back in the day, you knew what you were getting...a thunderous machine that likely would fail at some point, necessitating multiple amp purchases.  Literally the instant better, higher quality alternatives hit the market, it ripped into Marshall’s market share.

Today, if I were recommending a Marshall, the first place I’d recommend is George Metropoluos.  Second would be Friedman.  I’m currently deeply in love with a Friedman amp that’s a single-channel, point-to-point 40w amp that’s essentially a Tweed Bassman with EL84′s and a switchable gain stage...adorably named the Dirty Shirley.

***

Conclusion

Despite all that, I have a romantic love of Marshalls that overrides anything to do with quality or practicality.  It’s kind of like my love for the Gibson Les Paul grotesquely compounded...

You might think that I have a negative opinion of Marshalls based on everything I’ve just written.  Not true.  All of that stuff, it’s nothing in comparison to just how fucking incredible these things sound in person.  Again, neither of these instruments are in my wheelhouse, but if you asked me what the platonic ideal sound an electric guitar makes, it’d be a Les Paul through a cranked Marshall 1987x.

And even if you’re not into this kinda shit, trust me you’ve heard more than your fair share of Marshalls in the past.  They’re that great.  So great, it doesn’t matter how shitty they may or may not be.

PS...I wrote this in 3 different sessions, didn’t edit or re-read, and just posted away because something is better than nothing.

[sugaandyams]

“Mean Girls” Haikyuu crack fic: Part 2

Part 1 is here. Disclaimer still applies.

Chikara’s next class is literature and Narita and Kinoshita both have chemistry, so they all head back as the gym class collects their equipment.

Kinoshita hands Chikara a detailed map of the school. “This is your key to survival at North Shore,” he explains. “Arguably, the most important part is lunchtime. There are so many cliques.”

The bell rings before Kinoshita can explain them. “We’ll catch you at study hall,” Narita promises. “It’s right before lunch so we can leave early and scope out the cafeteria.”

Chikara is about to thank him when the crowd of students rushing to their next class swishes him away. He somehow manages to enter his homeroom once more.

Takeda looks away from the whiteboard to the doorway. Chikara can tell he’s once again the last student to arrive because all the desks are taken except for one near the front.

“Sawamura-Sugawara, I’m happy you’re in my class!” Takeda smiles. “How about you take a seat behind Akaashi?”

Chikara takes a wild guess that the figure hunched over, searching through his satchel, is Akaashi, only because of the empty desk behind him. He nods and sits downs. Takeda passes out syllabi and goes down the list of materials needed for this year.

He tries to listen to Takeda but his eyes wander back to the map. “Sexually active band geeks?” he mutters to himself. The guy in front of him turns around. “Did you say something?”

Chikara glances up and nearly gasps. “What?”

Akaashi (shit, that’s such a pretty name) has the most gorgeous hair Chikara has ever seen on a human being. Could a person have such beautiful eyes?

“I thought you said something,” Akaashi shrugs and Chikara needs to remind himself to breath.

“I did but I was just talking to myself.” Why did I say that?! he questions mentally.

Akaashi chuckles and Chikara really wonders if he can stay in his class when he’s having a bisexual reawakening. “I’m Akaashi Keiji. You’re the new student, right?”

“From Africa,” Chikara replies. “Sawamura-Sugawara Chikara.” Akaashi’s eyes widen a tad but return to their normal state when Chikara adds, “You can call me by my given name.”

“Alright, Chikara-kun.” Akaashi gives a light smile before turning back around in his seat and Chikara stares at his map, heat swarming to his face.

He doesn’t expect another conversation with Akaashi today but at the end of class, he turns back around after gathering his textbooks. “Have a nice day, Chikara-kun.”

“Bye Akaashi-kun,” Chikara says, a tad breathlessly. How can one person have such beauty? It’s not fair. Not fair at all.

Since Takeda is such a nice teacher, he didn’t assign any homework so Chikara has nothing to do except talk to Kinoshita and Narita during study hall. Luckily his blushing goes down so neither question him.

Kinoshita centers Chikara’s map on their library table. “Okay, we’ll explain all the major cliques,” he promises.

“I can’t believe sexually active band geeks is an actual clique,” Chikara mutters.

Kinoshita smirks but before he can make a comment, Narita ruffles Kinoshita’s hair. “I didn’t even say anything yet!” he grumbles.

“You were going to say something,” Narita knowingly says.

“Shut up.” Kinoshita looks over Chikara’s shoulder and waves. “Hey, Akaashi.”

Chikara freezes.

Akaashi gives a slight nod. “Hello Kinoshita-kun, Narita-kun.” He takes another step to see if it’s Chikara. “Hi Chikara-kun. I suppose you’re also in this study hall block.”

“Yeah,” Chikara murmurs and feels his face get hot. Kinoshita and Narita exchange glances.

“It’ll be helpful if Takeda-sensei ever assigns us a project,” Akaashi says. “We can partner up and work in study hall together.”

Akaashi and I as partners? Chikara numbly nods. “That would be nice.”

After he leaves and Chikara can breathe again, both Narita and Kinoshita have smirks on their faces. “You like him,” Narita states.

“I do not,” Chikara replies.

“Liar,” Kinoshita says. “How come you started blushing like mad?”

“Do you think he noticed?” Chikara asks, concerned. He’d hate for Akaashi to notice- what if he doesn’t want to be friends with him?

Narita decides to hide the fact Akaashi is very analytical and probably did notice.

“Akaashi-kun is a nice guy,” Narita assures Chikara, patting the back of his hand. “Don’t worry about it.”

Somewhat soothed, Chikara looks back at the map. “So, what all do I need to know?”

Kinoshita cracks his knuckles. “JV jocks, varsity jocks, desperate wannabes, burnouts, the greatest people you’ll ever meet-” he gestures towards Narita and himself. “And the worst, the Plants.”

Chikara runs through their conversation as he gets out the lunch line, wanting to buy a water bottle. He spots his new friends across the cafeteria, sitting by the wall and he relaxes his shoulders in relief. Right where the map said they’d be. He starts walking there, not realizing he’s walking in front of the Plants’ table when a guy stops him.

“May I help you?” Chikara asks, noting how attractive the guy would be if not for a smug and smarmy look across his face.

The guy, blond with an undercut and piercings, tries to give an innocent look. “We’re doing a questionnaire for new students, answer some questions for us, will you?”

Chikara mentally sighs and decides to go for it so he doesn’t make any enemies on his first day. “Sure.”

“Is your muffin buttered?” The completely male table Chikara just passed starts laughing. “Pardon?” Chikara blinks. Did he hear that correctly?

“Would you like us to assign someone to butter your muffin?” the guy asks, with an unkind smirk on his face.

Oikawa Tooru rolls his eyes and leans forward, resting his arms on the lunch table. “Is he bothering you?” he asks Chikara before glaring at Terushima. “Why are you such a creep?”

“I’m just being friendly, Oikawa!” Terushima insists.

“You don’t come over to my house for a party, break one of my parents’ vases, and then try to hit on some innocent boy- and failing, by the way- in front of us,” Oikawa coolly replies. He moves his eyes to Chikara. “Would you like to have sex with him?” he asks.

Chikara takes a step away from Terushima. “No thanks.”

Terushima’s grin slides off his face.

“Problem solved!” Oikawa happily says. “You can go shave your back now.”

Terushima curses under his breath and Chikara continues walking, glad that’s over.

“Wait!” Oikawa calls and Chikara turns his head. “Huh?”

“Sit down,” Oikawa invites, patting the table. Chikara glances at Kinoshita and Narita, who gesture for him to come over. He gives a simple “I don’t know what’s happening” look and pulls out a seat.

“Why don’t I know you?” Oikawa says with a tilt of his head.

“I came here from Africa and it’s my first time attending school in five years,” Chikara admits, opening his water bottle.

“Shut up.” Oikawa looks back and forth between Mattsun and Makki. “Shut. Up!”

“I didn’t say anything?” Chikara confusedly says.

“Home-schooled.” Oikawa rests his head on his palm. “Wow.”

Makki gives a bewildered look to Chikara. “If you’re from Africa, how come you’re not black?”

“Makki!” Mattsun hisses. “You can’t just ask people why they’re not black!”

Oikawa leans forward and smiles. Chikara doesn’t understand how Kinoshita and Narita hate him. He seems really nice! “Hold on for just a moment,” Oikawa says as he leans back against his seat, winking. Chikara casts his look back to Narita and Kinoshita, who look at him with perplexed expressions. He slightly shrugs in response.

Oikawa finishes talking with Makki and Mattsun. “Okay,” he begins with a deep breath. “We don’t ever do this, so it’s a huge deal.”

Mattsun sweetly smiles. “We want to invite you to have lunch with us for the rest of the week!”

“That’s-” Chikara begins before he’s cut off by Oikawa. “So, see you tomorrow?”

“On Tuesdays, we wear sea-green!” Makki adds.

~~

Kinoshita bursts out laughing in the boys’ bathroom. “You have to do it!” He wipes away his tears, he’s laughing so hard. “You have to do it and tell us all the horrible stuff Oikawa says!”

“But Oikawa seems sweet,” Chikara argues. Kinoshita stops laughing. “He’s not sweet! He’s a life-ruiner, he ruined my life!”

“What happened?” Chikara asks as Narita puts an arm around his shoulders. ��When we were 12, Oikawa told everyone-”

“Kazuhito!” Kinoshita huffs. “Can we not?”

“Sorry.”

“Why do you hate him?” Chikara asks, curious to know.

“What do you mean?” Kinoshita responds.

“Oikawa. You seem to really hate him.”

Kinoshita doesn’t answer for a few moments, expecting Chikara to continue. When he doesn’t, Kinoshita raises his eyebrows. “I do. What’s your question?”

“Why?”

Kinoshita glares at Narita so he doesn’t say anything. “Nothing. It’s not about hatred or anything. I just think it would be super funny for you to hang out with them and tell us everything that happens.”

“What would we even talk about?”

“Hair products,” Kinoshita suggests while Narita claims, “Hot guys.”

“Please Chikara?” Kinoshita even sticks out a lip. “Please?”

Chikara sighs. “Fine.”

Kinoshita squeals and gives him a big hug. Maybe it’s worth it.

He won’t think that for long.

“Tomorrow is Tuesday and they said they wear sea-green. Do you guys have anything sea-green I can wear?”

Kinoshita snorts. “No.”

Narita shrugs. “Not really.”

“How about a trip to the mall after school?” Kinoshita offers.

“Oh! This is what kids do in those cliché movies!” Chikara cheers.

“I love you so much,” Kinoshita laughs.

~~

Luckily Narita has a car and drives them to the mall. They spend a few hours there, goofing off after they found the perfect shirt for Chikara. It’s almost exactly dinner time when Chikara is dropped off at home.

He waves goodbye as Kinoshita leans over the driver’s seat and honks the horn as goodbye.

“Hisashi!” Narita yells as Chikara laughs, opening the door to his house. Daichi and Koushi were totally not standing by the door as soon as they heard the car drive up.

“Were those the friends you texted us about?” Koushi asks, having received a text message from his son a few hours before the end of school that he had a ride.

“Yeah,” Chikara answers, setting down his bag and backpack. “What’s for dinner?”

“Hold on,” Daichi says, blocking the kitchen door. “Aren’t you going to tell us all about your special day?”

“Did you meet any other friends?” Koushi inquires eagerly. “Any cute guys?”

Chikara figures he’d be fine- until his dad said that last statement. “What? No!”

“You totally did!”

“Dad!” Chikara whines, wishing he isn’t such an easy blusher.

“Who’s this boy?” Daichi instantly asks, crossing his arms. “I’m a cop, I can search him up in the records.” There’s a subtle teasing tone but Chikara never underestimates his fathers’ protectiveness.

“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he murmurs, going around Daichi and getting out a glass of water to calm his hot face.

“Our little boy is going up so fast,” Koushi whispers to Daichi. “Just yesterday he was clinging to our shirts and asking for our help on everything.”

“I think we need to have another talk with him, just in case.”

Chikara spits out his water. “Dads!”

[blulibrarian]

I had a deeply meta dream last night what woke me up because my body started to cry while I was still dreaming and the wetness on my face woke me up. That’s the first time that’s happened since high school, which is wild to me. We’re really deep in the stress dreams now, I suppose. ○   So dream starts, I’m bebopping down a street, ordinary day, whatever. This Knockoff Kid Flash type superhero comes zipping by and stops to say something at me, we have some quippy banter for no reason on the sidewalk for while, and then the ghost of a T-Rex peels itself off the mural on the wall near me and the scene becomes all beams and cartoony action. Speedster Hero helps me not get hit with some flying stuff (Beams, I think? the thing as shooting laser beams?) and it turns out that virtually everyone in the vicinity is a dormant super-person, myself included, and after we defeat the guy who was making ghost monsters out of street art, we get grouped up by some government organization to be a super team together. The Speedster Hero becomes team leader by default since he has more experience at this than all like 8 or us combined. He and I definitely have more flirty comic book banter. ○   Well after the wacky first mission it gets harder and harder. We bust up some bad guy headquarters and have more street battles but like, team members get pretty seriously hurt, a lot of us have trouble with power control, many hit walls where we can’t seem to improve strength at all and the burnout from the job starts mounting. If you get in a really bad way, the Handler guy gives the person who’s struggling this food item - It’s like an egg over easy if it was made of dark green worms. I mean, it had a little yellow spot in the center of what I assume is the worm goo, a whitish center, like there was a layer of semi-transparent white over the green, and on the edges, it got that deep green and you could really see the shapes of the worms, like fat ribbed noodles. Everyone’s going through it but the Speedster seems to be declining the most, which is weird since he’s the experienced one. I remember feeling very hurt that we stopped chatting because we’d hit it off so well at first and when the back-and-forth dries up, I felt kind of confused and lost, because of course he was the teammate I wound up closest to, and now so much time has passed that everyone’s really drained and making new connections isn’t really happening. ○   We get to a really important run at like, version 5 of the mad science villain who did the T-Rex ghost at the beginning and it sucks so hard and after managing to be okay most of the time I like fry my nerves with a big power burst and then take a hit meant for someone else and I’m just in such a bad way. I come to in a makeshift little medic spot (in the back of a van? or a tent in an alley?) and the Handler is there and pissed and the Speedster is there and looking drained and worried and I’m super disoriented and some other teammates are talking to me but the Handler shoos them away and even when he talks to me, I can’t quite hear it, it’s all muffled nonsense. ○   I remember this part so vividly. Handler shoos everyone else from the room/tent/whatever my cot is in and then he picks up a scalpel and grabs the Speedster by his right wrist and yanks his arm forward and just slashes it open from wrist to elbow. And the Handler reaches into the bigass cut, grips the flesh in there, and tears a fistful out. Only it’s those green worms. I was so scared I couldn’t scream. The look on the Speedster’s face was just awful - not shock or fear or betrayal but like, pained exhaustion. He looked so gaunt and frail and helpless. I scramble or lunge off the cot or something because I’m moving away as our Handler thrusts the squirming green glob at me, demanding I eat it, and the Speedster isn’t saying anything, and I’m panicking, waves of nausea and realization crashing into me. Because he’s the most matured super, so they’d been feeding him to us in the hopes that it cheat codes us past the normal slowly unfolding development, and also because he has fast healing, so they just assumed that eating that would make us heal better for a short period of time. (Why that made his meat into green worms, I do not know) I’m stumbling in the road, trying to get away, but seeing the other teammates scattered around and the resigned, dead looks on their faces makes me sick. I vomit and pass out somewhere in the middle of the road. ○   And when I come to, the director and one of the other actors are arguing really loudly over the decision to cast me for the role, because apparently this was all the filming of some superhero tv show all along? And I just got really lost in my role. (Which is probably why all the powers of literally anyone who wasn’t the Speedster just wasn’t knowledge I had in my head all dream long) When I get my bearings back from blacking out, I step in and join in arguing with the Director and the actor who plays the Handler. I remember admitting to missing maybe a detail or two when doing script reads (because apparently we were supposed to know about the green worm things by that point so I shouldn’t have reacted like that) but I thought a rewrite so that this scene would stay in would be better - the idea that we’d revealed what the worm food stuff was so casually in just table talk earlier and not in that visceral scene seemed ludicrous o me, and so I was arguing that yeah there would have to be some reshoots and script tweaks, but I was really adamant that making this the frame for the reveal to both the character and the audience would have a much better, deeper impact.

○   The Director was a little reluctant to do the extra work but the Handler’s actor was really against it because he didn’t want me to have the role at all - He insisted this passing out was proof that I had lost my grip on reality and that having me on set was a dangerous liability they couldn’t afford. (I think he really needed the role? or was mad that a friend who wanted mine didn’t get it? maybe both) He said the stress of the shoots and my personal bullshit was too much. And whatever personal off set bullshit I had going on (that he knew but dream me couldn’t remember the details of, just that it was really stressful) kept getting pressed on and I started crying because I was just so tired and I felt like I was losing the one thing I had some control over right now. I definitely couldn’t afford to lose this job, but god damn, I really didn’t want to lose that scene on the cutting room floor. ○   And then I woke up because my body was also crying and that is the most jarring shit, no matter how many times it’s happened. To be fair, it’s been ten years since the last one, but still. You come out of the dream but not while actively remembering the end of the dream, so you’re just disoriented and you can feel your body’s confusion in that you just turned off all the physical reactions it was having by becoming conscious but not yet being aware of the part you were reaction to. And then as you feel around through the haze of your waking mind, you start following all the threads until they lead you to the endpoint where you realize that the switch that disconnects body from brain during sleep had accidentally gotten flipped somewhere along the way and you learn what it was that you were so upset about.

[corneliussteinbeck]

GGS Spotlight: Janae Marie Kroc

Name:   Janae Marie Kroc (Kroczaleski) Age: 44 Location: Ann Arbor, Michigan

What does being a Girl Gone Strong mean to you? It’s about empowering women to pursue their passions (even if goes against what society may deem appropriate for women) and deconstructing the absurd ideas that somehow strength (both physically and psychologically) and muscle are things that are contradictory to femininity and should be reserved for only men.

You describe yourself as “nonbinary” and “genderfluid.” Can you explain what this means to you, for folks who may be new to those terms? Non-binary means that I exist outside the rigid binary boundaries of the male and female genders. While I do identify as a woman and exist legally as one, my gender identity just isn’t that simple. Figuring this out was extremely frustrating and took many years in large part because I never assumed there were any other options, and I had to pick either male or female and be defined by society’s definitions of those labels.

Genderfluid means there is a degree of fluidity to my gender and that it changes. For me my gender presentation and expression may change based just on how I feel that day or by whom I interact with and the situation. This was also something that took me a long time to understand. It was very frustrating for me, and I couldn’t figure out why I just couldn’t feel comfortable all the time by picking a single gender and adhering to society’s idea of how that gender should act to be accepted by others.

How long have you been strength training, and how did you get started? Strength training was just something I was immediately drawn to as a young child. I remember seeing someone big and strong when I was very young and just being blown away. I immediately thought “Wow, that’s how I want to be!”

At nine years old I made my first set of homemade weights out of milk jugs filled with sand loaded onto a bent bar I found in the woods and constructed my first bench by laying a long 2”x12” board over two cinder blocks. Every year for Christmas I would beg my parents for a weight set. In fourth grade I received dumbbells and trained religiously with them for a year. The following Christmas I received my first real bench, with barbells and dumbbells. I have been training consistently ever since.

You intentionally lost a lot of muscle after you came out as trans, and then just as intentionally put some back on. Can you tell us about your thought process as you experienced this, as it relates to our expectations of femininity and muscles on women? Initially, I fell prey to the same societal pressures that many women do concerning body image and what is socially acceptable. I just assumed that if I was going to be a woman I had to live up to this unrealistic ideal of what media and society says a woman should be. I initially planned to lose more than half my bodyweight and had planned to go from 272 pounds of muscle at 5’9” all the way down to 135 pounds.

Initially I dropped weight like crazy, losing 40 pounds in the first month and 72 pounds in the first several months getting all the way down to 200 pounds, a weight I had not seen in almost 20 years. At this point I found myself getting very frustrated and confused. On one hand, I liked that I was blending in much easier in public and being able to wear new outfits that I felt I never could have pulled off before felt amazing, but at the same time I was really missing the heavy training. I hated losing so much strength, and the prolonged dieting was making me miserable. I was obsessing over food more than I ever had, even when I was competing in bodybuilding. The entire situation was making me very unhappy.

I put the weight loss on hold for about the next six months and then after much soul searching just decided to do whatever made me happy without worrying about what anyone else might think about it or what it meant concerning my gender identity. One thing that helped me tremendously was getting to know many of the women in the strength training world much better. As I became closer with them, I realized so many of them struggled with the same issues I did, namely wanting to get bigger and stronger but feeling pressured that this somehow was contradictory to our femininity. Realizing I wasn’t alone in this struggle was huge for me and helped validate my feelings.

I resumed training hard and heavy, increased my calories and just focused on what felt right to me. Over a period of six months my weight climbed all the way back up to 254 pounds, and I was beginning to get a bit “fluffy.” I switched gears and focused on leaning up without losing muscle mass. I brought my weight back down to around 230 pounds, and I feel pretty good there. It fluctuates some, and I’ve been as light as 217 and as heavy as 237, but in that general neighborhood is where I seem to feel best.

I try to let how I feel and can perform in the gym or on my mountain bike dictate my weight more so than how my body looks.

I find that if I make how my body looks my top priority I will always find some way I could look better and this results in excessive dieting and unhappiness.

What does your typical workout look like? In the gym I still follow a program that is centered around the three basic powerlifting movements, but with additional days for the remainder of my body and increased overall training volume. A typical chest day for me would start with bench pressing, often for something likes five sets of five reps, followed by inclines for sets of ten, maybe a little dumbbell work, and then often pushups or dips with body weight until failure. Leg day would start with heavy squats, followed by Bulgarian split squats or lunges, sometimes front squats, with a couple hamstring movements and calves.

I mostly stick to basic compound movements with lower rep ranges (1-5) and then higher (10-20 reps) for my assistance movements. I program my training in cyclic four-week waves with increasing intensity for three weeks followed by a fourth week with increased rep ranges and volume but decreased load intensity. Each successive monthly wave is heavier than the preceding month for a 16-week period. After I complete those 16 weeks, I will reassess and start a new training cycle. This keeps me both growing and getting stronger while preventing overtraining and psychological burnout.

Favorite Lift: Depends on the day but squats, bench presses, and deadlifts are still hard to beat — especially when you’re making progress. Few things feel better than hitting a PR in any of those.

Most memorable PR: Pulling a 40-pound deadlift PR to move from fourth to first at the WPO Arnold Classic qualifier in 2005. The lift was the single hardest deadlift I have ever pulled and likely took a full ten seconds for me to grind to completion. I actually felt my right acromioclavicular joint separate half way through the lift but kept pulling for all I was worth.

My PR going into the meet was 716 pounds, and after my second attempt I told my handler I was good for 733 maybe 738, if I absolutely needed it. My training partners did the math and came back and told me that I needed 755 for the win. I told them to put it on the bar and I would make it happen. I knew my lockout was strong and that if I could just get the bar to my knees I could complete it, and that was all I focused on as I tried to rip the bar from the floor.

When I locked the bar out the place went nuts! My training partner ran out on stage and lifted me in the air. It was a surreal moment like something out of a movie exactly how you always dream about winning a big meet, but what really makes this something I will never forget is that my handlers actually miscalculated how much weight I needed to win, and I still ended up getting second. Everyone was afraid to tell me at first, but when I found out I wasn’t mad at all. I knew I never would have pulled that weight if I hadn’t believed it was for the win, and we all had a good laugh about it.

How has estrogen therapy affected your lifting? The difference estrogen makes in regard to gaining muscle and losing body fat is undeniably huge. It was almost two years ago when I stopped testosterone and started estrogen and my strength immediately plummeted. Every week I was losing ridiculous amounts of strength, sometimes 20 to 40 pounds in a single week. I would load the bar with the same weight I had used the week before only to find out there was no way I was going to be able to complete the desired number of reps, it was crazy. Fortunately after a couple of months the strength loss leveled off, but the effect was dramatic.

Estrogen therapy also had the same type of effect in regard to gaining body fat. I was eating like I was prepping for a bodybuilding show and still having an incredibly difficult time staying lean. We had titrated my estrogen dose up quite high (8mg per day) to hopefully achieve more breast growth but at that level the increased body fat was too much for me so we backed it down to 4mg per day, which still puts my blood levels in a normal female range and allows me maintain a reasonable level of body fat without feeling like I am starving every day.

I think the most interesting thing to note that is prior to stopping testosterone and starting estrogen I was among the strongest men in the world for my body weight. After almost two years on estrogen and without testosterone my strength levels now are very similar to the strongest women in the world at my body weight.

Top 5 songs on your training playlist: For training I still prefer the fast, heavy stuff that really gets me in the right place mentally especially when a big squat or dead is scheduled. Bands like Korn, Marilyn Manson, Ministry, Rammstein, old-school Metallica, and Disturbed often populate my training mixes, but I have a wide range in music taste including EDM, dubstep, alternative, classic rock, punk, and even the cheesy pop and hip hop stuff too. I also find songs with a theme about fighting against the established norm to be motivational.

Some of the stuff you’ll find on my current training play list includes:

Take Me Down by Genevieve

Bad Reputation by Joan Jett

Gucci Coochie by Die Antwoord

Fear by Disturbed (my favorite pre-deadlift psyche up song)

Clown by Korn

The Reflecting God by Marilyn Manson

Top 3 things you must have at the gym or in your gym bag: Powerlifting belt, knee wraps, chalk.

Do you prefer to train alone or with others? Why? All depends on the training day and what my goals are at the time. I have been fortunate to have a lot of amazing training partners over the years who are still some of my best friends to this day. The camaraderie that is built by sharing experiences under a heavily loaded bar lasts a lifetime and as a competitive powerlifter no one reaches the top alone. However, some of my most intense and focused training sessions occurred when I trained alone and would just go deep inside my own mind, facing and overcoming my own doubts and fears.

Most embarrassing gym moment: OMG, I can’t believe I’m going to share this in a public interview but I will, because I know I’m not alone. I had “an accident” as I strained with everything I had during my third attempt deadlift at a meet. I left the platform and headed straight to the restroom hoping no one else noticed! To be honest, over the years, that has happened numerous times in the gym under heavy squats and deadlifts and while embarrassing, that’s what can happen when you push your body to its limits.

Most memorable compliment you’ve received lately: Recently, it would be the numerous compliments I have received from other women about my body and how they admire what I’m doing. It feels really good to know that they support me, because my biggest fear when I came out was the ladies of the strength training world would feel I didn’t belong and would see me as an imposter. The reality has been that I have been welcomed with open arms, and the support I have received has been overwhelming. I have made so many new and amazing sisters in strength training that alone has been worth all of the sacrifices I have made.

Most recent compliment you gave someone else: I try to make it a point that whenever I think something positive about another woman I share it with her. Just yesterday I told a woman for whom I have a lot of respect in the strength training world how much she amazes me and how I admire her. She is a multi-sport athlete and her incredible strength, amazing physique, and especially her awesome attitude epitomizes what a Girl Gone Strong is.

Favorite meal: For an everyday normal meal, as boring as it sounds, I eat a lot of plain old chicken or steak and rice seasoned with garlic and various spices. My boys actually beg me to make this all the time. Cheat meal would have to be pizza and ice cream.

Favorite way to treat yourself: A relaxing but also adventure-filled vacation to somewhere tropical accompanied by a close friend or partner. I am way overdue for one of these.

Favorite quote: “In order to achieve what others cannot, I must be willing to sacrifice what they will not.”

Favorite book: He, She, and It by Marge Piercy. This is a great sci-fi novel that also examines gender roles and stereotypes.

What inspires and motivates you? To be better than I was yesterday, to help others who for one reason or another have always felt like they didn’t belong, and more than anything, to lead by example for my three amazing sons.

What do you do? I am licensed pharmacist by trade, but I am also involved in activism including writing and speaking about gender and sexuality. I am currently working on an autobiography and in the final stages of completing a documentary about my life, titled Transformer, which will air in the fall.

I definitely keep busy, but my hobbies include muscle cars (I own a ’67 Camaro that I have dubbed the “Krocmaro” that has its own Instagram page), mountain biking (planning a trip to Whistler in British Colombia this summer), and makeup (I love YouTube tutorials and the transformative power makeup can have).

I love hiking and biking with my three sons and this summer we are planning a trip to Yellowstone for the first time, which we are all very excited about! I love the outdoors and especially water. I have always felt drawn to water, and whether it’s a river, lake, or ocean it doesn’t matter to me. I am also an adrenaline junkie (hence my love for fast cars) and have been skydiving, rappelling, and plan to start racing two of my cars this year.

Describe a typical day in your life: Due to recent unexpected developments, I am currently attempting to leave the 9-to-5 world and pursue activism full time, so my days have changed a lot and also vary greatly from day to day depending on whether or not I’m traveling.

A typical day while at home usually looks something like this:

7 a.m. — Morning cardio. Typical activities include sprints at the track, running stairs, or biking.

8 a.m. — Breakfast, most often oatmeal with a piece of fruit, almond milk, and protein powder.

8:30–11:30 a.m. — Check and respond to important emails, work on articles, interviews, or other writing projects. I also still write training programs and diets for clients.

12 p.m. — Lunch. I typically have a shake around 10am or so and lunch around noon. Lunch most often consists of standard bodybuilder fare like chicken and rice, lean red meat and a salad, or sometimes fish for a different protein and sweet potatoes for a different carb source.

12:30–3:30 p.m. — If I don’t have a local speaking engagement or meeting to attend, then I am most often again working on some form of writing or work on my computer.

4 p.m. — Gym training session. Right now I train with weights in the gym five to six days per week, and I try to get in two to three rides on my mountain bike per week if both the weather and my travel schedule permit it. I am lucky enough to have a full training facility in my basement so I can train at any time day or night. Depending on the day’s schedule I sometimes train first thing in the morning or even late at night, but in the afternoon prior to dinner is more common during the week while in the morning prior to breakfast is more common on the weekends.

6 p.m. — Dinner. I always consume a large intra-training shake consisting of cyclic dextrin and hydrolyzed casein but still eat my largest meal immediately after training. This is most often lean red meat with a complex carb source like rice or potatoes.

7 p.m.-Midnight — I am a morning person and prefer to do my work early with the hope of relaxing a bit in the evening, but my evenings are still often filled with Skype conferences and working on projects I wasn’t able to complete during the day. Still, I try to finish every day by having a last meal usually watching Netflix while snuggling with my kitten, Dawkins, on the couch. It’s a perfect way to unwind before going to bed.

Your next training goal: Now I am just focused on being a better all-around athlete. I am in my mid-forties and I have begrudgingly accepted that my days of my absolute best athletic performance are behind me. This has not been easy to accept, and I will always be a competitor at heart but now I want to maintain as much strength as I can, be in good enough cardiovascular shape to do all of things I want to (hiking, mountain biking etc.), and maintain good overall health.

For what are you most grateful?

Without a doubt I am most grateful for my three amazing sons. The bond of unconditional love that we share is something I never could have imagined, and their support throughout everything has been absolutely amazing.

Of what life accomplishment do you feel most proud? While setting the all-time world record in powerlifting was the number one goal of mine for many years, and hugely satisfying, I have to say I am much more proud of being open and honest about whom I am in the face of immense pressure to do the opposite. Every time I receive an email or message from someone stating that my being honest about who I am has helped them, I am reminded how important visibility is for the transgender/gender non-conforming communities (and anyone who feels different in their own way), and how you can save someone’s life without ever having met them. I have said since I first made the decision to be honest about everything, that if my being out can help prevent just one suicide or stop one parent from rejecting their child, then any sacrifice I have to make is more than worth it.

Which three words best describe you? Honest, complex, determined.

What’s a risk you’ve taken recently, and how did it turn out? The biggest risks I’ve taken recently have been undergoing both Voice Feminization Surgery and Facial Feminization Surgery. I have been researching both of these procedures for many, many years and greatly desiring the results. For me, it is just about taking steps to finally feel comfortable in my own skin. Every time I have heard my extremely deep voice or seen pics of my face, the masculine qualities of both have always made me cringe.

Even though there was no doubt I wanted to have these procedures performed and had done all of my homework ahead of time, there are still no guarantees that things will turn out like you hope. As with any surgery there is always a chance of complications, that the results will be less than desirable, or that you could be putting your own health in jeopardy. I was talking about my voice and face, two things that affect my life greatly on a daily basis, especially as I try to transition into a career of speaking and activism.

They are also extremely expensive and not covered by insurance at all. I had to spend tens of thousands of dollars, and I felt guilty doing so. I couldn’t help but think how that money could have been toward my son’s future college tuition or other seemingly more vital endeavors. The recovery process for both was daunting as well. I wasn’t able to speak for eight weeks after voice surgery, and anyone who knows me will tell you that was a fate almost worse than death for me!

For my facial feminization surgery, the bone in my forehead and jaw required extensive reconstruction and work was also required on my nose, cheeks and eyebrows. Recovery is very painful with significant swelling, bruising, and it will be weeks before I can eat a normal diet of solid foods. Still, I knew deep down there really wasn’t a choice, and these were things I absolutely needed to do to have any kind of peace internally.

I had the voice surgery performed in January in South Korea, and while it can take up to a year to experience the full increase in pitch the change already has been significant although I am still hoping for an additional increase. I just underwent my facial surgery in Los Angeles on April 25th, and I’m still extremely swollen and bruised. I lost twenty pounds due to the limited diet and difficulty while trying to eat. As the swelling is beginning to go down, I am starting to get an idea of how I am going to look and so far it appears to be very good. I honestly can’t wait to see exactly what I’m going to look like a couple months from now.

How has lifting weights changed your life? As an adolescent I was a good athlete and very confident, but when junior high hit, things took a huge downward spiral for me. I got shunned by the same group of friends I had grown up with, I was struggling in silence with the growing confusion surrounding my gender identity, and when everyone else had big growth spurts, I did not. All of these things combined to strip away my self-confidence. Because of my complex gender identity and not liking the face I saw in the mirror, I accepted the fact that I was ugly and that no one would ever be interested in dating me. I never had a serious relationship in high school or while in the Marines, and because I felt so uncomfortable trying to play the male role I never went to a prom, Christmas dance, or any social events like that.

Fortunately, through strength training and competitive powerlifting I slowly built my confidence back. First I learned to believe in my ability to achieve any goal I set on the platform, and then I learned how to apply that same confidence to the rest of my life. I often say with absolute sincerity that my success in powerlifting prepared me perfectly for coming out as transgender in the public eye. My belief in myself by that point was unshakeable, and I was already used to being scrutinized and degraded on Internet forums. I was well prepared for the backlash from the strength community that followed my coming out.

Without a doubt the confidence I gained from strength training that has impacted every area of my life in a positive manner.

There are quite a few resources and an active online presence for trans men and transmasculine folks who strength train. Have you found any such community for trans women? Unfortunately I have not, and I have been contacted by numerous trans women who strength train wanting to talk to someone who can relate. Just like we often see with women from other communities, many trans women attack other trans girls who weight train and question their femininity, it’s sad and unnecessary.

How would you address the concerns some women have about bulking up or appearing “unfeminine?” First of all, bulking up and adding significant muscle mass takes years and years of extreme dedication and hard work, especially for women. It doesn’t happen overnight, so that shouldn’t even be a concern for anyone who doesn’t have those goals. But more importantly, who has the right to say what is “unfeminine” and how do we even define what that means? The definition is completely arbitrary, changes over time, and varies greatly from one culture to another. For example what it means to be feminine and is acceptable for a woman in the United States is drastically different now than it was in the 1950s. Even today, in a progressive country like Iceland, what is considered feminine and acceptable is radically different than in a country like Saudi Arabia where women have very little rights relative to other cultures.

I am big believer in only the woman herself getting to define what femininity means to her. I have witnessed just as much strength, determination, and mental toughness in my female friends as in any of my male friends. The idea that all men should be strong and all women kept weak is harmful to everyone. Not every male is strong and women aren’t weak. No one should ever be pressured by society or anyone else to be anything other than what they are, and by trying to define and enforce rigid gender roles (especially outdated patriarchal based ones) anyone who doesn’t naturally fall within those definitions is harmed by being forced to live a life that is not entirely their own. So let each and every woman define her own femininity and may she be free to be all of whoever she feels herself to be.

What do you want to say to other women who might be nervous or hesitant about strength training? First of all I’d like to say that I am all for anyone pursuing anything that makes them happy as long as it doesn’t harm someone else. If weight training is something you think you might enjoy then absolutely, one hundred percent go for it! Many women find strength training empowering and love how it changes their body and their health.

Also, never let someone else discourage you from ever pursuing anything that makes you happy. I know there are still a lot of men and women out there who discourage women from lifting weights by pushing outdated ideas about how strength and muscularity are only for men. Sometimes men find strong women intimidating or threatening, and other women may not understand, but those are their problems, not yours. Strength training is not contradictory to femininity, and the strength training world is filled with amazing women of all shapes and sizes. If you’re a woman and you’re even the tiniest bit interested in giving strength training a try, by all means please do! You may find it to be a life-changing experience that impacts not just your body but your mind as well, and benefits you in all areas of your life. I know so many women who have had that experience, myself included.

If you’d like to connect with Janae online, you can find her on: Instagram, Twitter, and Facebook.

The post GGS Spotlight: Janae Marie Kroc appeared first on Girls Gone Strong.

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