#anarchist weekend

[sassysophiabush]

[genekies]

tag vent

[twistedappletree]

lmao so i think the other girl working for my client is about to get fired for trauma dumping and making out of pocket passive aggressive comments constantly akdnakjds why can’t anyone just be fucking N O R M A L

**also pls excuse the typos in my tags omfg i’m so annoyed that i can’t type ahahahHAHAHA

[tomatoluvr69]

Survived 2/2 potlucks and also a radical death care workshop which also had a high concentration of harrowing acquaintance encounters so I actually have to not talk to another human soul for 6-8 days to recover im going to go live in a rocky crevasse for a week. Anyone need any cave dwelling insects lichens mosses or bats

[thebiballerina]

Not to mention, even with the most generous socially constructed stereotype of a definition, the English-speaking Tumblr population is heavily skewed toward the U.S.A. It's hard to say how much of the no vote is accounted for by people outside the U.S., but there's no way it is all of them. Which makes these numbers hard to believe given that the U.S. treats mass incarceration like a national sport.

Consider the drinking age alone. If you are under 21 years old, any amount of purchasing or publicly possessing alcohol is a crime in any state. It is also a very normalized thing to do, at least from ages 18-21. Do you really not know anyone who has done this? It's not even stigmatized enough for me to believe that many people are unaware of relatives doing that. Not to mention all people whose relatives offered them alcohol when they were under 21; that's also very common, and it's only legal in some states under some circumstances. The drinking age is basically a running joke, except the punchline is systemic discrimination, facilitating violence, and encouraging preventable deaths. (But that's a rant for another time.)

are any of your relatives criminals to your knowledge?

[minglana]

im very mad at the fact that if i searched thoroughly enough, i would probably find historical communist books in my dads library. but i cant bc my parents will be like "wtf are you doing"

[isabellthebitchyghost]

almost the weekend 😌

[problemsynth]

Oh boy a feature no one wants inflicted upon me. I fucking guess tumblr live has hit Canada. Time to. Delete the fucking app and only use the browser version where I can permanently disable it. Lamao.

[forgondor]

Sorry for being #offline for the past 3 days i was doing hot girl shit ((digging trenches and building barricades to keep the cops out of an occupied village & prevent the construction of a coal mine))

[miguelsslvt]

punk! miguel x innocent! reader

word count: 879

TW: nsfw, smoking, hair-pulling, corruption, swearing, creampie.

request: @sukioyakio ★

A/N: this isn't edited and is poorly made so i'm so sorry. also can i just say thank you so much for over 600 notes on my first drabble?? oh my gosh?? anyways, enjoy and welcome to the club! ^^

imagine punk! miguel being the 'bad rep' of the school. in the 3rd year of college, he took physics, chemistry and spanish language. he would smoke behind the science classrooms, refuse to wear clothes that he calls 'society norms' like a blazer or a button up, and instead wear a black leather jacket with pins like 'pink floyd', or 'anarchist' all around it. he would yell, slander and mock almost every teacher whenever he's in class (which is very rare).

most of the girls honestly adored him, apart from the odd popular girl or two finding him too 'annoying' or too 'muscly' for their liking. he didn't give two shits, he already knew his body count was probably higher then their grades.

but then there's you. sweet, innocent little y/n. where most college students spent their weekends partying, you spent it in your dorm room re-reading 'moby dick' for the 6th time. you took phsycology, english literature and spanish language. and if you were completely honest, the only reason you chose spanish language is because your boyfriend at the time (now ex) was spanish. god, did you regret picking it for him.

you noticed miguel, like every other person in the school would. but your first time was different. you were running late, extremely late for your first class of the day. damn you, alarm. that's when you noticed miguel, outside science block, groaning.

despite being late, you took a curious peek at what the man was groaning about.

'stupid fucking lighter..' he mumbled, trying to light his cigarette, but failing. you knew better then to interfere, to even speak to the most intimidating man in college. but, for some reason, you ended up giving him your lighter.

'thanks, you smoke? i can give you one for a trade.' miguel said, as you smiled so sweetly. you explained how you didn't smoke, or did anything like that, and that you only carried a lighter 'just in case of emergencies'.

that's when miguel's interest in you piqued. you were such a sweet, innocent girl, and that drove something in him. something that he didn't realise he wanted. he usually only went for girls with his taste and style, girls he'd meet at festivals or clubs and were either high as heck or sexy goths. but you, you were different.

soon enough, he realised you were only in his spanish language classes, and that you weren't the best at it. perfect. your weakness was miguel's strength.

that's how you ended up in this situation. bent over miguell's desk in his dorm, mumbling his name as hee proceeded to sbuse his way into your sweet cunt.

'you want to tutor me..? that would be so nice miguel!' you had said so excitedly, there was a spanish exam coming up and miguel so kindly offered to tutor you the friday night. and being so naive and quite desperate for the help, you happily accepted.

his room was filled with different posters and signs like his favourite bands, anarchistic posters, stickers saying things like 'fuck the government!'. his leather jacket was discarded somewhere on the messy floor, as his hands grasped your hips to push you even deeper onto his cock.

'm-miguel.. m-miguel please!' you whined, your mascara running down your face.

he just chuckled, as he pulled your hair lightly, moving you onto the bed as he laid you down on your back, as he started bullying into your pussy once again. he was so mean.

your light blue dress was somewhere on the floor, ripped to shreds. it was your favourite dress, but you had other things to think about at the moment.

'yeah.. you like that, cariño? you like being fucked like a slut? not used to being so used, are you?' miguel teased, as you just moaned in response. he hadn't realised that fucking a cute little angel could be this enticing. fuck, he could get used to this.

'i.. miguel! i-i've never-' 'shh.. i know, i know, a sweet girl like you hasn't ever been treated this way.. i'm sorry for being so rough, but i dunno.. the way you're tightening around me suggests you like the harshness..' he said, his hand wiping your mascara-smudged cheeks. your body was submitting to him in every way possible, and he felt like a starved predator being fed for the first time in years.

'i-is it normal to feel l-like this..?' you whimpered, eyes shut from the pleasure. 'yes.. yes my sweet girl it's very normal to feel like this.. let me give you all the pleasure you've missed out on.' miguel whispered in your ear, as he started thrusting faster and faster, pushing you over to the edge.

you let out a loud moan, your back arching as you came. the way you clenched onto him drove miguel over the edge too. his thrusts became erratic and sloppy, as he let out one more groan as he came deep inside you.

you were panting, your eyes still shut. he pulled out slowly, placing a sweet kiss on your temple. 'god you're so cute..' miguel whispered to you, as you just whimpered in response. he chuckled deeply.

god, he might just get addicted to such a good innocent little thing like you.

♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎♥︎♡︎

[sassysophiabush]

[lunawritingspaceoxoxxx]

Wanted - Hobie Brown x Black Fem Reader

No minors, 18+ only

Tw: Angst, Rough Sex, Dirty talk, dick piercing, cheating

You rubbed your eyes as you blankly stared at your work screen, the days bleeding into weeks–into months as life went on. Relationships are hard; bearing your soul to another person and allowing them to see the most authentic version of you is scary, downright nerve wracking. Pulling your locs into a loose bun as you doubled down on your report that was due in the morning.

It’s been days since you last saw Hobie. One moment, the two of you were at a concert, enjoying yourselves and the next moment, he was gone in a blink and you couldn't help the nauseous feeling in the pit of your stomach, unable to hold anything down. ‘It’s fine—he does this all the time, I don’t know why it feels so painful this time.’ But you knew why; exactly two months ago, Hobie and you were relaxing in his apartment—he finally had a day where the corrupt government wasn't planning anything too inferious. You watched him strum his guitar, humming to himself. 

“What’s going on in your head, pretty girl?” He rasped as he lazily glanced over, the weed making his eyes slightly closed, mirroring your expression. “Nothing, just relaxing.” A lie. You loved the Spiderman in front of you, you wanted nothing more than him to reciprocate your feelings, but he didn’t like conformity and labels—which made life with him difficult. Hobie and you were very touchy with each other, lingering hands and stares were common and talking freely about past sexual conquests was a staple in any conversation. Then that’s where the lines between friends began to blur. 

You couldn’t deny your feelings for the self proclaimed anarchist, he knew you from the inside out and backwards, which made it harder to go see when he was around. A cute little blond, chilling on his bean bag and greeting you like you were an old friend. “Hey, this is Gwenie, Miguel just brought her in.” Your world shattered instantly, Hobie looked at her as if she had painted the stars. You’ve known Hobie for years, earning his trust and being exposed to deep, personal things, which made it a slap in the face, especially when Gwen knew about their inside jokes.“Love, you’re spacing out again,” Hobie snapped his fingers,”I said, what are you doing this weekend? I asked Miguel to give me a weekend off and wanted to spend time with my favorite girl.” You snorted, rolling your eyes as you hit the bong, blowing smoking into the room as you leaned your head back. “Going on a date with a coworker.” 

Hobie paused, narrowing his eyes as if you had grown a third head. “A date?” “Yeah, we’ve been talking for a moment,nothing too serious.” His blood began to burn, nodding his head as he stared blankly at the wall. “Nothing serious, ay? What about us-” “About what? We fuck, we smoke, that’s really about it. We barely hangout, I kinda chalked us to be friends with benefits, but you don’t like labels nor conformity.” You pushed yourself off the bag as you grabbed your bag, slipping on your sandals. “Love, where are you going? You gonna leave this? Be a coward and run away?” You shrugged your shoulders, nodding your head. “Yeah, I am because I don’t like my time being wasted and that's what you’re doing. Hobie–fuck, I think I may love you and I don’t want to be another notch in your bed frame. You don’t value me as a friend, why does Gwen know our inside jokes? You only call when she’s busy, it’s like I became a backup to her and it’s not fair to me.”

Fast forward two months, Hobie seemingly ignored your confession and acted like nothing happened, you weren’t going to bring it up, so life continued on. It just felt like a massive wall between you, hangouts became even more rarer and as if you lost your best friend overnight. Eric, your coworker, he’s fun, safe, and don’t get it twisted, you like him, but he could be a little boring at times. “Babe, there’s an event going on tomorrow night at the science museum, underneath the stars while being able to observe natural history.” Your eye twitched, sighing softly before you flashed the fakest smile. “Yeah, sounds great, let me check my calendar.” Spray Painting Session w/ Hobie. The last time you and Hobie hung out, it ended early by him stepping away for a smoke break and never returning. Did you really want to risk that, because things were awkward and you tried to address it, but he was adamant about not hearing you out, playing the “I’m busy, gotta go" card. 

“Sure, I have to go shopping for a decent dress after this email.”

You sighed as you admired your in the mirror, donning this slick, elegant black little number, pulling your locs to the side. Eric has already left, claiming that his manager needed his expertise on some stuff. “Dressed up for me?” You scoffed at the familiar voice, continuing to blend in your foundation. “Why you getting dressy, we’re only spray-painting-” “Hobart, I’m going to a private event tonight with Eric.” Hobie watched you through the mirror, locking his jaw–his hands grazing the backrest. “Not the government name, must be serious then. Why you choosing that tosser over me? What so great about him?” Hobie watched as you stepped away, slipping into elegant velvet heels. “He’s my boyfriend and I want to support him, is that a difficult concept for you to wrap your head around.” Hobie clicked his tongue, sprawling out onto the silk sheets, much to your annoyance.

“It’s not, but I don’t appreciate my girl isolating me for some git. “ Hobie narrowed his eyes at your appearance. You looked absolutely stunning, there was no doubt in his mind, but this? Yeah, this was supposed to be meant for him only. “‘Your girl?’ That’s funny, I didn’t know that I was already spoken for, Hobie, look–you lost your chance, I confessed my feelings for you and you proceeded to ignore it, so I don’t appreciate being treated like some dog.” Brushing out a few winkles, you finished with the final touches as you grabbed your purse. “Love, you know I never meant to make you feel lesser, but labels-” “You hate labels! You hate consistency! I get it, but you actively led me on! The touches, the stolen kisses–I’ve cleaned your wounds, waited on hands and knees for you! What more do you want from me, I’ve given everything that I can.” 

Hobie saw a broken girl in front of him, seeing the exhaustion in your eyes as he tried to come up with something–anything, scoffing you walked away, grabbing your keys as you headed out the door. He sighed, slipping through the window, the shadows masking his figure as you stepped out and met Eric outside. "Oh wow, darling, you look absolutely stunning.” Eric smiled as he twirled you around, Hobie’s fists clenching in jealousy at the site of the couple. He watched as Eric’s hands traveled down your back, pulling you closer to him. “Aw, thank you, I-” Eric’s phone ranged, much to your annoyance as he flashed a pathetic smile as he stepped away. “Sir, we’re about to the event. No sir, but I would-okay. Okay, I’ll finish those tests tonight.”

“Eric, you promised, We never get to do things anymore.” Crossing your arms over your chest as Eric kissed your temple,” It’s frustrating to cancel dates over your boss, why can’t he run tests and let you enjoy the night off?” You could feel tears swelling underneath your eyes as you sighed, pulling away from him. Your feelings for Eric were different from Hobie’s, but to be let down again, maybe you were destined to be alone. “Just text me when you get home.” 

This gnawing feeling only grew with every step, close to tears as you pulled off of your heels. You sighed as you leaned against the stainless steel wall, paying no mind when Hobie walked in. “Y/N” “Shut up, please, just hush.” He scoffed as he towered over you, grabbing your chin as he made you look into his eyes. “Listen, love, I know you’re frustrated, but you don’t have to give me lip. I’m trying to be here for you.” Your blood began to flash red hot as you pushed him away, jabbing your fresh set into his chest. “Why now? You haven’t been here for months! Is it because you want to get your dick wet?!”

“No, it’s not, for fuck’s sake, I miss you alot, you make everything okay when I’m going through tough shit, but I also tend to push my friends away. Y/N, everything with the spider society, I couldn’t help, but shut you out, you aren’t apart of it and it wasn’t right of me, but you fell in love with that git and just pushed me away. You flaked out on me because of what? Him.” Hobie was absolutely right, you weren’t even trying to give an excuse. Jealousy was a twisted emotion, clouding your judgment to the point where there was nothing that he could say to change your mind. “Because he’s my boyfriend and you clearly didn’t want me, I wasn’t going to act like a puppy, so I can still have your friendship. I’m sorry, I can’t function that way.” 

Hobie’s watch began to beep, groaning as Miguel’s face popped up. He shut off the watch with no regrets as the elevator’s doors opened. Storming to your apartment with him hot on your heels. “I never not wanted you! I thought that it was obvious when we slept together, do you think I sleep around town, inviting anyone into my bed?” You glared at him as he flopped onto your bed, his eyes watching you through the vanity mirror. “But it didn’t stop you flirting with girls right in front of me.” He watched you debeautify yourself, the dark circles underneath your eyes becoming more apparent. You two remained in silence as you began to strip down, revealing the deep emerald lace thong. “You wore that for him and he still left? The boy is so ungrateful,” Hobie pushed himself off the bed as he grasped your hips, pulling you flush against him,”Having the most beautiful little thing in his bed and not doing a damn thing with you.”

Your breath hitched in your throat as his rough hand traced along your body, tugging at the thin material as his other hand grazed your collarbone. Snapping out of your trance, you pushed him away, immediately slipping on a robe. “Yeah no, you’re done, get out. I’m not cheating on Eric with you.” “Why are you pushing me away so much? You clearly want me and I want you, what’s so difficult about that?” “Because Hobie, I want you a boyfriend, I love you and I don’t want anyone else, but you don’t like labels, exclusivity is hard for you-” “Bullshit, it’s not hard, I just didn't want my old flings, you want to know why? They weren’t you, just how Gwen and I are close, I don’t want her because I knew you were jealous of her. She may know some of our inside jokes, but she doesn’t have what you have.” Hobie pulled you onto the bed, wrapping his arms around you as if you could break free from his grasp.

“Y/N, we have history together and it’s frustrating to see this wedge between us, it’s hard coming home and knowing that you won’t be there, eating my snacks and being menace to me.” He fondly smiled at your giggle, pulling you closer to him. “I love you, if I wasn’t being clear, Y/N, I know you don’t love Eric, he’s obviously a distraction. Come back to me, let me show you why it’s worth it.” Your breath hitched as the palm of his hand trailed upwards,tugging lighty at the thin piece of fabric. His warm breath fanned against your throat, leaving small kisses starting the base trailing towards your jaw. “Darling…” “Hobie, what about-” You winced at the sharp pain, you could feel his eyes staring into your fiber of yourself. “Don’t speak about him, it’s just us, princess.” 

Hobie stepped out of the bed, pulling off his studded jacket and shirt. He bore a shit-eating grin, knowing you were just as excited as him, shaking like a chihuahua. He pulled you towards the edge by your ankle, leaving behind a trail of wet kisses down your leg. “Take it off, show me your tits, sweet cheeks.” Hobie groaned as you tossed your robe to the side, taking in everything. Gasping as his rough hand immediately latched onto your boobs, pinching and twisting your nipples being mindful of your nipple piercings. 

“H-Hobie, please-” He gave you a warning look as he bent down, taking one of the pierced buds in mouth, rolling it around as he relished in your cries. It’s been too long and he knew Eric wasn’t fucking you right. He groaned as he felt you rub against his bulge, your legs were wrapped around his waist as if he was going to vanish into thin air. “Nah, princess, this is about you, don’t worry about me.” Hobie ripped off your thong with ease, tossing the shredded fabric to the side. 

You hid your face in the plush pillows as he rubbed your clit with no mercy, just the way you like it—much to his annoyance. His hands tangled in your locs, yanking your head up. “None of that hiding shit, let me hear you.” He grabbed your hip with his free hand, pushing two fingers in, immediately curling upwards as you cried out. “Words, princess, you miss my fingers? You squeezing me like a vice.” He pushed your limits as he nipped and sucked at your neck, relishing in your cries.You pulled him towards your lips by his wicks, sloppily making out as you reached his belt, tugging at his spiked belt. “My fucked out little whore, god I missed this look on you.” Hobie has pulled your hair back, shoving his drenched fingers down your throat. He could see the lust in your eyes because he knew that cornball wasn’t satisfying you.

Meanwhile Eric raced home, rushing through the lab results, uncaring if they were accurate or even legible, he just needed to get back to you as soon as possible. He patiently waited to be let in, he couldn’t wait for the day that he moved in with you, the buzzing in and then waiting seemed stupid to him. He waited patiently, humming softly as time went on. “Eric? What are you doing down here? I thought I could hear you and whats her name.” One of your neighbors gave him a puzzled look, letting him inside of the building. “Oh no, I had some last minute business at the lab, I’ve been there for awhile now.” 

“A fucking cock whore,”Hobie brutally fucked your throat as you leaned off the bed, pinching your nipples,”You love this cock, don’t you?” Bobbing your head as he reached further down your throat. He watched as your eyes rolled back, jaw going slack. “You ain’t passing out on me?” “No..’m not passin’” You weakly sat up, trying to catch your breath, but not before being pushed down onto your silk sheets. “Good, because I’m not done yet.” With no remorse, he pushed inside of your pussy, setting a brutal pace as you screamed into your pillows, his prince albert piercing was way too overwhelming. “Fuck me, creaming on my cock this fast, oh I know he wasn’t fucking you properly.” You whined as he continued to fuck you with no hestation, gripping your thighs as subconsciously you knew that you would be marked by him. 

His other hand reached in, furiously rubbing your clit, trying to extract another orgasm from you. “Fuck, your pussy was meant for me, only me that can fuck you so good, aint that right?” He pulled your head back, smirking at your tears. “Y-Yeah!” “Wasted two months of my time, fucking some limp dick, lanky kid, but this pussy? It belongs to me.” Hobie didn’t care about the neighbors banging on the walls, when he was fucking the girl of his dreams. “Yes, fuck! It belongs to you, only you!” Babbling as you couldn;t form a coherent thought, he slapped your tits, cursing as he felt your pussy pulse around his sensitive cock.

He could feel his balls tightening as he knew you were about to come, your moans only grew louder. “Come on, come on this cock.” Sobbing as you tried to slip from his grasp, the pleasure becoming borderline painful, but Hobie wasn’t going for that. “Come now or you don’t all.” He growled in your ear as you squirted across the sheets, your tired body trembling uncontrollably. He grunted, slamming into you, his lower half completely drenched, cursing as his warm cum coated your walls. Landing into the silk pillows face first as your arms went, Hobie plucked a plug from your nightstand, making sure you wouldn’t waste his cum. “Told you were mine, cut the bullshit labels and just be committed to one another.”  He pulled you onto his chest as he drew circles onto your bare back. Hobie noticed a picture frame of you and Eric, smiling and he was kissing your cheek, webbing it to a random wall. He could finally be at ease, knowing that limp dick wasn’t going to be around for much longer.

[trans-axolotl]

anarchist healthcare workers conference this weekend I am. SO excited for it and so excited to present about psych abolition and anticarceral care for suicidality but there is a million things I need to do before tomorrow

[klabauters]

So a friend of mine works at a youth center that occasionally organizes youth larps. The kids are all between 12 and 17, and usually the folks from our larp group will show up and play some npcs. We've also showed up as a pirate crew once which caused exactly the type of mayhem you'd expect if you set a bunch of teenagers (notoriously dramatic anarchists) loose on a bunch of pirates (notoriously dramatic anarchists)

This weekend we're npcing again, and while the original plan was to just assign us some quest-giving roles, my friend texted me last night to announce a change of plans:

"hey the kids want the pirates to come back. bring Lutz?"

So now instead of just handing out tasks to some children, me and a disgruntled cannoneer will take two dozen bloody theatre kids on a treasure hunt. What the fuck am I doing with my free time

[bao3bei4]

why zines? how zines?

i was on a panel at fanworks con 2023 about zines today. it was a lot of fun! i decided to turn my portion of the talk into a post for my friends who couldn’t make it to the panel. 

this post includes my thoughts on: 

why make a zine

how to generate ideas for zines

how to finish your zines

how to build an audience for your zines

so why zines? what are they? [ZEENS, rhymes with beans], pronounced that way because it’s a shortened form of the word magazine, are basically just that: self published magazines. but why make a zine over, say, a blog post? or any other piece of art. 

i have basically three reasons. the first is that making little books is cool. it’s genuinely awesome to make physical zines and have the product of your labor in your hand. it’s a great feeling to finish a project and feel a concrete reward, and a lot of times we don’t get that in our lives.

the second reason is that zines give you absolute editorial control. you can put anything you want on a page. whatever layout, whatever order, whatever fold, whatever content. you name it, you can do it. this is something other venues rarely give you. for artists, it’s phenomenal. and for the rest of us, it gives us the ability to become artists for a little bit, as we lay things out.

the third reason is that zines can be absolute shit. in fact, the more shit they are, the more diy and punk they are. they have an incredible lineage of stolen copy paper and anarchist politics. all that to say, is that there are no standards. the zine ethos is say what you wanna say. it’s tremendously freeing to go fuck polish and respectability, i’m making my project.

because of these three reasons, i want to encourage you to get started making zines by describing common challenges and worries and giving you several practical tips for each on working past them. so, in order, they’re “i don’t know what to make a zine about,” “i struggle to finish projects,” and “no one will read my zines.” let’s get into it.

first up, “i don’t know what to make a zine about.” i think this one is pretty common, even for experienced zine creators. sometimes you’re in the mood to make things but you have no clue what. a lot of people suggest to just go with random words or whatever pops into your head, but i’m picky! i find that unsatisfying! so here are some tips for people in the same boat. 

ONE: what’s distracting you? work with it. because anything can be a zine, let the things you’ve already done serve as inspiration. photos you’ve taken can be formatted into a zine. is there a game sucking up your attention? make a zine about it. the song stuck in your head can turn into a lyricbook, forgotten works in progress or sketches can be resurrected, cannibalized, or even published as incomplete zines. if you’ve been busy with real life, maybe the recipes you’ve been making—even if, especially if, they’re struggle meals, can turn into zines. interview your most interesting friend. summarize a book you read recently. even if you’ve just been doomscrolling, that’s a zine too! i got a zine last weekend called bay area newsreel which was collecting recent articles about local news from leftist perspectives gathered up into a handy volume. your attention is a gift, so look at what zine fodder it’s accumulated for you naturally. 

SECOND: add a twist. sometimes i have an idea but it isn’t quite right. it just seems too straightforward. so i try to develop along a single axis of content or form. what this means is basically go against your instincts, or rather, your first impulse. that first idea is very hard to walk away from, but doing so often gives you an idea that gets you unstuck. so for content, add a different perspective. for me this is often a theoretical approach. when i was stuck on my scum villain zine, turning it into freud zine let the words start flowing. next, on form: present it differently than your first instinct is to. if my first thought is “essay,” i try to figure out how to chunk out the information into modules or how to add interactivity or what kind of illustrations to add. if my first thought is “this could be a fic or comic,” i try turning it into an essay. saying things a different way often gives you a new perspective on the content as well. 

THIRD: copy! make your take on the same thing as someone else. it’s not stealing—well, ideally it isn’t. make your original take and give credit where credit is due and ask permission if necessary. but engage with the medium!!! making zines without reading zines is the same thing as trying to write a paper without citing sources, or a novel without reading your contemporaries. that is, you can do it, but it’s hard. zines are a genre into themselves so figure out how to situate yourself in their ongoing dialogue. an example of this from my own practice is that i own a zine about queer gods and mythological creatures from chinese history. reading it i was like. why don’t they talk about this. why don’t they talk about that. and that became the basis for my own zine, guaitai the strange and the queer which focused on queer chinese history and literature instead. different zine, same inspiration. 

all of my ideas suppose you have SOMETHING going on. what if you truly have nothing. my advice? adapted from my “how to write an essay” blog post, is to read a book. read an article. read something. and then post about it. and then turn your posts into a zine. don’t start entirely from scratch — give yourself a scaffolding. so first. read something and tell someone about it. i wasn’t lying about calling myself a consummate poster. it’s a big part of my thought process. 

second up, what if “i struggle to finish projects.” i’m no stranger to having a bunch of half finished half started projects lying around. but here are some zine-specific tips i have for addressing that.

FIRST! go smaller; go shittier. reduce the scope of your projects. make one pagers, lists. once when i was feeling stymied, i made a physical zine about movies i’d watched that month, just listing them with a couple bullet points on each film. i eventually turned it into a bigger digital zine where i listed movies i’d watched over the past several months with more thoughts on them, and nicely formatted. but that was something that came out of reducing my scope from “i need to write a manifesto on a movie i’ve watched recently” to “well i can just tell people about it” to “i can say two things about it.” and something actually got finished.

SECOND. your friends are a great tool for accountability. something i like to do is zine jams with my friends. nothing fancy, it’s just we’ll sit down for an hour and go we’re going to make something in this hour. or, for a bigger scope, we might work separately but commit to making a zine that weekend. it’s nice to have community and it’s nice to feel a little bit of a friendly deadline. i recommend this even if you DON’T have problems finishing zines. it’s a good time. 

THIRD. a lot of times if the words aren’t coming easily, it’s because i’m not trying to say the right thing. keep in mind that your zines don’t have to be “content.” this little paper zine i made about movies wasn’t made to share online; in fact, it’s not available online. i didn’t make it according to what other people would see or be interested in. you can and will burn out on making “marketable” content. corollary to this: sometimes what i have to say is something i DON’T want to share online. it might not be that it’s boring, it might be that it’s too personal. and i share a lot online, i write personal essays after all. but some projects i stall on because they’re really just for me, and i’m again, focused on making content. so this piece of advice is about rejecting the tyranny of the imaginary audience. 

and the next challenge is about embracing that audience! what if no one reads your zines, something that’s entirely possible. well there’s plenty you can do about that.

FIRST. cultivate zine community. read other people’s zines! talk to them about their zines! this greatly increases the chance that they will do the same for you. don’t go in expecting reciprocity; do it for its own sake, but it’s a great place to start. try asking people at zine fests if they’d be willing to trade with you, for instance. 

SECOND. write for yourself. it’s cheesy but it’s true. you really have to. if you’re not proud and happy with what you’re making on its own merits, what’s the point. now because this is a cop out tip, i’m not counting it as a tip on its own. 

so SECOND PART TWO. make your zines more accessible. if they’re not free, make them free—yes, you deserve to be compensated for your work, but it’s up to you to decide if you want a bigger audience first. if your zines aren’t short, make them shorter. make them short enough that you can post their entirety on social media or something else easy for your audience to consume. it’s a big ask sometimes to get someone to download your pdf! if they’re physical, hand them out to people you meet. remove all the barriers to entry.

THIRD. related to this, change medium. if you’re not making physical zines, try printing them out. if you’re not making digital zines, try digitizing them. both of these offer access to new audiences and new people who might be more interested in one form than another. 

i hope these thoughts encourage you to make a zine! if you do, please let me see it. i love reading zines. 

[madschiavelique]

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Chapter 1 : First Day

pairing : teacher!miguel o’hara x student!reader summary : you visit your new university with the help of Hobie, and when coming back to your new apartment you meet your charming neighbour Miguel. turns out, he is not only your neighbour, but your teacher. (not proofread) content warnings : none word count : Route A : 4,2k | Route B : 4k masterlist of the fic : here.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

Your lungs fill with the cool air of mid-September. The leaves are beginning to turn brown, a few falling onto the perfectly cut green lawn of the campus park. You can't wait to walk on them and hear them crunch under your shoes.

But for now, the sky remains blue on this late afternoon, dotted with a few cottony clouds, the gentle caress of the sun's warmth licking the skin of your cheeks. You breathe softly, calming your excited little heart for the new terrain that now stretches out before you.

At the end of this weekend, you'll begin your new year at the Academy of Science and Polytechnics, otherwise known to its students as ASP. Your previous university didn't live up to your expectations, nor did the one before that, but as they say, third time's the charm! At least, you hope so...

You're expecting to have a little more experience on various subjects than your future comrades, and you're quite happy to be starting out with a head start. Not that it's a competition, but the comfort you have with certain subjects is reassuring.

You're a little worried that the age gap might divide you from them, but you try to reassure yourself that, just in case, other people your age who want to change course will be along for the ride?

You give a quick nod, in the hope that it will give you enough courage and uprightness not to stumble and spread yourself like a pancake in a profoundly ridiculous fashion anywhere on campus, and start your walk to its entrance.

You're supposed to meet up with a certain Hobart Brown, who's supposed to be your guide for today - perhaps he's a student representative? 

Whatever the case, you hope the visit won't be too long. Because not only is today your visiting day and the first time you've set foot in your new college, it's also the day when a good deal of your belongings are moved into your new apartment, which is located just a few blocks from the campus.

You'll receive several boxes containing, among other things, your books and the few manuals you've bought in previous years, clothes, your hygiene kit and a mattress to inflate. The apartment would be empty, with nothing but a refrigerator already installed as furniture.

You'd be on the third floor, the last one, as the building isn't very big or wide, with only two apartments per floor. You just hope your next-door neighbour won't be unpleasant. The reason you're hoping the visit won't be too long is that you'd like to take advantage of the delivery men’ presence to help you get everything up to your floor. Since the building is small, it lacks an elevator.

When you arrive at the large, imposing door of your university building, your gaze inevitably falls on a young man with an atypical style leaning against the wall right next to the entrance. Piercings, free hair, punk clothes and an aura of I-don't-give-a-shit to match, you wonder what degree he must be in.

With a toothpick wedged between his lips, he looks up at you, a shiver running down your spine as he tilts his head to the side.

"It's you? [Name] ?" he asks, calling your name, taking the toothpick from between his lips with his fingers.

It's at this precise moment that the realization hits you that the Hobart Brown you're supposed to find was this young man.

"Hobart?" you ask, raising both eyebrows.

"It's my name, but I prefer Hobie. Well," he nodded, rolling his eyes, "Hobie's a derivative of the one I was given at birth. Let's not get into the habit of names please, it's bad."

The scent of the anarchist anti-system was a perfume he nonetheless seemed to wear gracefully.

You pout understandingly, your lips forming into an inverted smile as you answer simply.

"Gotcha."

He smiles, nodding.

"Well, you're here for a tour," he says as he starts walking towards the interior of the building and you follow him, "but that's a particularly broad and useless term in this context. A tour only lasts once, and you discover things. But since you're going to be coming back here frequently, and you're still likely to discover new places, you could say I'm introducing you to the building."

"Are you in Arts?" you suggest as he walks down a corridor which you look at on either side where classes with their numbers are inscribed. "No, let me guess, you're in Philosophy."

"And you're perceptive." he smiles. "I like you, you seem to catch on quickly."

The university is, after all, home to the vast majority of the sciences, including the humanities. So Hobie is in philosophy, which is not surprising. It's interesting that he was the chosen student for your tour - sorry, introduction to the academy.

"Here's a typical corridor, nothing special, you'll come across lots of them," he sighs as he swings his hand in the air as if chasing a flying insect around him. "On the other hand, on this floor there are a few empty classrooms that we use from time to time, and obviously without the knowledge of the professoriate."

"Makes perfect sense," you say with a shrug.

"It's very useful for the meetings we hold about blockades," he informs, turning to you while walking backwards. "FYI," his ring-fingered hand rests on his chest, "I'm kind of the leader of our blockade committee, although being a leader or having one at your head isn't something I endorse. You could say I'm... the spokesman, the one who makes the speeches at our rebellion events, because let's face it, when you get tear gas thrown in your face, it can be confusing."

He seems to look you up and down, weighing up the pros and cons for a few seconds.

"Would you like to join us?" he finally said, with a jerk of his chin in your direction.

You crossed your arms, looking up at him.

"I'll think about it," you reply simply.

He smirks before turning again and walking straight ahead.

"Now, let me show you what will really matter here for you. You're in 'real' science, aren't you? You like playing chemist? Toying with vials?"

Hobie's little prejudices make you smile and laugh slightly.

"If you're nice, the one who toys with vials will show you how to make a better assortment of components to respond to tear gas."

He turned to you, laughing heartily and pointing at you as he walked to the staircase at the end of the corridor. 

"I like you," he repeated as he led you upstairs.

"This is the second floor, in case you can't count. I don't know all your stuff and your complicated scientific words for this or that or such-and-such subject," he says, his head tilting this way or that, "but one thing's for sure: this is where you'll have most of your classes."

In the hallway in question, coming from a room that had just been locked by her, a lovely dark-skinned lady with gorgeous afro hair was walking towards you.

"And you may well find yourself in class with Mrs. Drew," he said, almost raising his voice and smiling as you walked towards her.

She walked slowly, unhurried, chin high as she smiled at the young man's call.

"Hobie, convincing one more person to tag the campus lawn with a capital A?" she said in a voice that was half sigh and half sneer as she came up to your level.

"You know me at this point, you know I never do the same thing twice," he says with a shrug before plunging his hands into his back pockets. "But for once I'm bringing in a bright element that will go into your side." he turns to you.

"A new student?" asks Professor Drew as her eyes settle on you.

"Nice to meet you, I'm [Name]," you smile simply.

"Welcome, miss." she says, inhaling heavily. "I hope you'll get used to the rhythm here, it can sometimes prove to be merciless."

"Jess, don't be so hard on a new arrival, you'll scare her away," warned a new voice.

A slightly disheveled man with light brown hair came towards you.

"This," Hobie began, "is Professor Parker. You're going to have to put up with him too."

"Eh, I'm not someone you 'put up with'," commented the aforementioned Parker, imitating a finger-crunching reaction to the use of words, "it's not my fault your religion is Spinoza and mine is Mendeleev."

"It's crazy how you're both so distinctly the same mental age," Jess sighed. "Anyway, welcome to our midst miss." and she headed off down the hall.

"Oh, so you're new!" realized Peter, "welcome to ASP."

"Stands for Appearant Soporiphic Problem," Hobie sneers.

"Does Freud have an acronym too?" puffs Peter.

"Of course," he says before raising his hand as if viewing an imaginary title in the air, "MI."

"Mission impossible?" asks Peter, frowning.

"Mommy Issues." corrects Hobie.

"Very funny," laughed Peter falsely, "I hope that as a reconversion option you've chosen the circus?"

"I'm already there. "

"I am fully convinced you never graduated kindergarten." This little chat lasted a few more minutes before Peter in turn left to go home and the visit continued. Ten minutes later, the visit was over.

You told Hobie that you were new to the city, and that everything was a bit of a discovery. You learnt that the building was very old, just like a few others in the town, and that many changes of direction had led to it being rebuilt over the years, while preserving its charming, slightly old-fashioned setting. "Well, I've shown you the parts that are important to you here," says Hobie as he descends the few small steps leading to the building's main entrance. "You mentioned that you were new to the city, so do you need a mini 'tour' of it too? Just the surrounding area, to familiarise yourself a little", he suggests.

Here's your first choice! Select the option you want.

Choice A: Decline and go straight to your flat. Choice B: Accept and take a short tour of the surrounding area.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ . ★ . ჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻

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