#i try to seek out critique but like... please let me focus and work so i can do my best and THEN tell me what needs to improve

[practically-an-x-man]

man my sfx instructor is super talented and amazing at what he does

but he also is the type to just hover around while you're working and offer constant critiques, which is incredibly stressful for me

[homopsychology]

Ways to help if your loved ones are caught up in gender ideology

I was reading about ex-conspiracy theorists and how they got out of their rabbit holes and so much of their experiences resonate with my time identifying as trans and being involved in gender ideology. I know a lot of women have loved ones caught up in the trans movement and I found this post on Reddit about helping Q Anon believers out of their ideas and a lot of it can apply to gender ideology. I’ve adapted the advice outlined in the post about conspiracy theorists to fit trans-identified people and others who are caught up in gender ideology.

 1. Common negative emotions trans-identified people suffer from: Fear, Anger, Helplessness, Hopelessness, Frustration, Delusion. Yes, mostly what you see is pig headed arrogance, that's certainly present, but there is so much negative mental baggage that goes with getting involved in the trans community and taking on this identity. Trans people are constantly told that their life expectancy is 30 years old and that they are highly likely to face physical violence. Realize that behind the obsession, arrogance, and certainty is a lot of repressed fear and hurt. There’s also a lot of emotional problems and insecurities that lead people to identifying as trans, such as internalized misogyny or seeking attention and approval from peers.

2. Help them focus on the here and now that matters. Practicing mindfulness and connecting with oneself does help foster a healthier mindset and a better connection with the real world. Many people who are deeply involved in gender ideology are disconnected from their daily lives (hence our jokes about them being unhygienic), so encouraging them to focus on what’s right in front of them can help them regain their sense of self and control. Gender dysphoria (whether rapid-onset or not) also leads to sense of disconnection with one’s body. Helping them connect to themselves and the world can alleviate their distress and bring them closer to themselves.

3. Try not to get to engage with them too much on trans topics. If the trans person in your life starts going on about gender ideology, just politely reply and go straight back to whatever you were doing. This makes you a stable place for them if/when they move beyond gender ideology. This might be a trickier one to handle if you have a trans-identified person in your life who expects you to validate them. In that case, it might be easier to listen with compassion. I do think that remaining a place of stability will make it easier for your loved one to discard gender ideology because they know you will still be there for them.

4. Realize you likely can't argue the trans-identified person out of their beliefs. This is the hardest thing to admit. The trans community has created an Us/Them narrative of the world with trans people and their allies on one side, and then TERFs and transphobes on the other. People often build their lives, identities, and sense of self around identifying as trans. Being trans also provides a community that your trans person might hold dear. Attacking their beliefs head on will be met with excuses and rationalizations, but likely not honest introspection. My peak trans moment was brought on by tiny moments of doubt that built up over time, not by straight forward critique of my beliefs. The moment someone tried to discredit trans ideology, I would shut down and become defensive. However, don’t think that you challenging trans ideology in small ways isn’t helpful. Those challenges become little pockets of doubt that remain hidden until the person is comfortable confronting the inconsistencies of their views.

5. Explore their doubts. Maybe there is something that your trans-identified person doesn't understand, or doesn't make sense. What is it? Asking questions is not the same as confronting and if done well might have a chance to crack some of their ideas. This is a big way to break down belief in the trans movement. For the general ideology, asking about cases like Barbie Kardashian and Jonathan Yaniv can help. Bring up transracialism. Of course, also asking “what is a woman/man?” is useful. For trans-identified people, here is a thread on the detrans subreddit that discusses useful questions. I particularly liked “What does it mean to "feel like" a man or a woman? Do you think the other gender never has those feelings? If someone of the other gender had the same feelings, would it make them trans even if they were perfectly happy in their birth gender? If it wouldn't, why not?” “If you could change anything, but NOT your primary or secondary sex characteristics, what would you change?” and “If the whole world went genderblind, what would you change or explore?”

6. Love them, be there for them, but set boundaries. If nothing above works, you need to protect yourself, and manage the potential damage and fallout on the relationship. If it's taking a toll on you, you may need to make it clear that you just can't engage with them about this anymore.

7. Recognize and call out Thought Terminating Cliches. This is a phrase or sentence used to prevent the mind from scrutinizing its own beliefs. Common in religions and cults. Examples: Trans women are women. A woman is anyone who says they are a woman. Etc. These are everywhere in the trans movement.

I hope this helps in someway! Let me know if there's anything I should add or clarify. I know from my family and friends how emotionally exhausting it is to deal with a trans-identified person, so please take care of yourself. Best of luck to you!

[asktheheirofslytherin]

My lord,

I am a freshman in college, seeking higher education. I’ve just finished my first set of peer reviews, just four of my classmates. We did an image analysis on the image of our choosing. But I am disheartened, shocked, and frustrated. I really came close to banging my head into the wall.

Only one person cited their sources. ONE! Another put their images at the bottom of their piece which means reading in order involves discussion on pictures I haven’t seen yet, their piece was okay other wise. The next though didn’t include any image, no image whatsoever in an IMAGE ANALYSIS ESSAY! On top of that the thing he was analyzing was an ad. Which would be fine, the one before him did, but that would only be so if he analyzed details of the image. But he analyzed the ad, what it was trying to portray, and had only one detail about the image it self being of a specific body type that is not average…

My first one took me three hours, it was great. It analyzed an image, obviously didn’t have sources, but was, unfortunately for me, written by an English second language student. It was full of grammar and spelling errors, very tedious. The last one was great, just a few small errors and a definite relief. They actually cited their sources!

But I’m exhausted and my brain is fried. I know I’ll have many more to do in the future and I have no clue how to cope with that truth, nor how to handle them when I encounter them. Today was exhausting, I’m just lucky I’m good at being factually blunt, but also encouraging. I managed to find a few positives even in the worst pieces I’ve encountered in my life. Give me advice, please.

Yours,

H. and my dogs

First, let me offer my congratulations on your acceptance into higher education. I can tell you have a solid work ethic and a resolve that will get you ahead.

That said I can commiserate with your frustration. Many people, for various reasons, come into higher education settings with a range of skill sets and competencies. Things you take for granted of knowing may have been neglected in the education of another. At this point in the game, I would take these errors and omissions with a grain of salt. Perhaps they were not taught properly. Perhaps they merely require practice.

If some of these errors persist beyond the first semester or two, then it becomes less of a knowledge gap and more of some sort of inability or unwillingness on their part to follow the instructions. Luckily, you job is not to be concerned with why they are like this- your job is to offer critique.

Now, onto the critique itself. First - while I have never had to do an image analysis, I have had to read the essays and assignments of others, and I can assure you, the more you do, the faster you will be able to do. The more you will be able to filter out the unnecessary and instead focus on what matters - your comments will be more insightful, but at the same time you will learn to skim the material. You will find a balance between efficiency and thoroughness.

Second, I am pleased you have discovered the art of finding enough positives to balance with the negatives. This is a secret I learned in my years of tutoring as a Prefect. You must instill the confidence in them to fix the errors, not dishearten them entirely.

Also, as time passes, in theory, everyone's work shall improve, so reviews will be easier in that regard. So you shall have the combination of enhanced ability to perform a review and better work to review as well.

It gets better, and after a while, you may even find it fun. I enjoyed tutoring the younger students by the end of my tenure as Prefect, to the point in which I had seriously considered becoming a professor.

Best of luck to you, and feel free to consult me with any additional inquiries regarding your academic career,

-Lord Voldemort

[ifbrd]

Not Sugar-Coated, ToBecky Critique from a ToBecky Shipper

Let’s talk about Tobecky and it’s toxicity! And for once, let’s not hold back! I think what I’m gonna do for this post is focus on the dynamic they have in the show, mostly criticizing my own misogyny but calling out the fandom in general as well, as I’ve seen other’s do these same things. Later I will reblog it on the Word Up blog and continue my thoughts on the ship and how it affected Word Up.

The first thing I will say is that I am a Tobecky shipper, ever since Tobey’s first shorts when it was revealed he had a crush on WordGirl. I started watching this show as a kid, I would have been 9 or 10 when it started airing on PBS. If I were to get into this show today, however, I don’t think I would be shipping tobecky, because as an adult I can recognize its toxicity which I didn’t have the proper knowledge or understanding to do back in the day. And I think the real reason I still ship today is purely nostalgic. Though I won’t deny that their dynamic is interesting and that likely affects my shipping brain too.

As a kid, I think I shipped it because, well it seemed inevitable. It seemed like the only endgame option. How many romcoms start with a girl liking one boy, only to realize later she should be with a different guy, usually an underdog the audience is supposed to root for. How many romance stories start with the two not liking each other, ranging anywhere from minor annoyances for each other to full-blown enemies, only to later understand it was all a guise to hide their true feelings. It seemed obvious that Becky/WordGirl would end up with not Scoops, whom she had a crush on, but instead Tobey, the underdog she always was fighting or arguing with. Factor in Tobey’s crush, my very underdeveloped ability to think critically, and the fact that the writers in early seasons seemed to really take the time to focus on the potential chemistry between these two (their interactions in “Department Store Tobey” and both of them having a good time together in “Have You Seen the Remote?” etc) and it seemed there was only one boy for Becky to logically end up with.

The first time I can recall really questioning this ship, I mean really questioning it, was sometime in probably my sophomore or freshman year? Maybe my junior year? I recall my health teacher teaching us about healthy vs unhealthy relationships. In this unit, I realized several of my favorite ships across various fandoms were unhealthy but that’s a whole other topic. At one point I remember him giving his two cents about the phrase “opposites attract” when being applied to romance. He said this can be true, but only if the two are “opposites” in personality, and not “opposites” in values. If a couple’s values, their morals, don’t align, they probably aren’t going to make it. And in all honesty, I think Tobey and Becky have the worst possible combination for this.

They have very similar personalities, and while this isn’t necessarily a bad thing, it can make it easier for them to encourage their negative traits instead of helping them overcome them. The traits they both share like pridefulness, attention-seeking, and being a bit obsessive, have the potential to be the traits they bring out in each other. The best counter-argument for this is the fact that Becky is willing to and would call Tobey out for everything wrong or ridiculous he does, and try to help him. But that doesn’t matter if Tobey is not willing to listen to her when she calls him out, or accept her help when she offers it and he needs it. And it’s especially worthless if he’s not willing to help her back.

Meanwhile, the biggest weakness for this ship is their opposite values. Their morals couldn’t be more apart from each other. Get these two together for long periods of time and a morality war would easily ensue. And then combined with if their similar personalities do end up bringing the worst in each other, then any relationship they could have would be disastrous.

The worst issues with their pairing all go back to Tobey. I love Tobey as a character, don’t get me wrong, but we need to be honest, and please excuse the language--Tobey is a piece of shit! He is disrespectful to everyone around him, except his mother, and that’s only because he’s scared of her He thinks he’s better than everyone else and has no issues expressing that opinion, even going as far as to try to define words for WordGirl. He goes as far as to belittle her in “Tobey or Consequences” criticizing her word choice. He has been shown on multiple occasions to lose his mind when he doesn’t get exactly what he wants and will do anything to get it, without regard for others’ property, feelings or safety. He’s manipulative as seen in “Tobey Goes Good” and “Have You Seen the Remote.” He’s unwilling to take responsibility for his actions, as demonstrated when he attacks the candy factory for making candy because he got a cavity, instead of realizing that he should have taken better care of his teeth.

And worst of all, despite what he and the audience often believe, he clearly doesn’t give a single shit about WordGirl. If he cared about her he would have acknowledged her disinterest, if he cared about her, he wouldn’t have tried to force Becky into admitting she’s WordGirl in “By Jove, You’ve Wrecked My Robot.” If he cared about her, he wouldn’t have pretended to be good or trick her into spending time with him or forced her to read poems about him. In the Halloween special he thought Violet was WordGirl just because she was wearing a WordGirl costume, failing to acknowledge that Violet is blonde and white and WordGirl is clearly not.

The episode “WordBot” makes it very clear what kind of relationship Tobey wants from WordGirl--and it’s not a relationship. It’s a dynamic where she simply showers him with never-ending adoration and does whatever he wants. Tobey cares about one person and one person only and it’s not WordGirl, it’s himself.

And I’m not even counting “Go Gadget Go” in any of this! That episode put him in such a bad light that most fans pretend it doesn’t exist because his behavior is so inexcusable. And yet even without that episode, we have plenty of toxicity coming from Tobey’s end.

I once saw someone say they hate the tobecky ship because the argument for it often is that Becky will be willing to put up with Tobey when they’re older. First of all, if that’s your argument in tobecky’s favor you need to go take a good hard look at yourself. Becky putting up with Tobey’s messed up behavior is essentially hoping she ends up in a horrible, toxic, unhealthy, relationship that would be borderline abusive if she didn’t stand against him. Secondly, while I don’t deny the existence of this argument, (I once read a fanfic where the two were married but still a hero and villain who battled regularly) I disagree with the idea that this argument is most often used to justify the ship. Instead, the most common argument to justify it is the idea that Tobey has it in him to change. This is certainly a better argument, as Tobey changing is really the only hope for this ship.

But I think it’s really easy for us, myself included, to struggle with the line between finding evidence that Tobey could change vs excusing his actions; the line between finding an explanation for his behavior vs finding an excuse for him. It’s a very easy line to accidentally cross without realizing it. And it really says something when, as discussed in another post, we are not giving other villains like Victoria--who have more of an “excuse” --the same treatment. It’s incredibly misogynistic.

I’m not going to try to argue that Tobey doesn’t have the capability to be good, of course, he does. We can see this in the cute note he leaves in Becky’s backpack in “Trustworthy Tobey” and in the very last moments in the Thanksgiving special, and of course in our favorite example, “It’s Your Party and I’ll Cry if I Want to.” I’m also not saying that Tobey’s actions and psychology aren’t the product of the environment and circumstances he faces daily. Of course having no father figure present, a single mother who is always working, and no friends is going to affect a child. What I want to question is when is Tobey responsible for his own life, choices, and actions? Maybe not now at age 10-11, but what about when he’s 13? 16? 18? 21? 40? Where do we draw that line? I also don’t want to discourage looking for the good in people and characters and thinking critically about how their past and psychology is affecting their actions. I want to encourage that in all characters, not just the boy who happens to have a crush.

And while it’s nice to speculate that Tobey will follow a better path in the future, not so much for tobecky as much as for the betterment of Tobey himself, we need to realize that it’s just speculation. We have no canon proof of where his story goes post-WordGirl. He has his moments of hope but overall this kid has a terrible track record. When it comes to others, Tobey makes terrible choices. And that’s exactly what “going good” will be--a choice--his choice.

I also want to take a moment to talk about something @fromtheplanethexagon said in this amazing post you should totally read because it’s great. They commented on how very few people when writing tobecky fanfics takes the time to explore her perspective of their feelings for each other. Where her feelings originate and why she would like him. This is something I am absolutely guilty of and will be paying attention to in the future. After reading that passage from their post I thought for a while why Becky would like Tobey, and I honestly struggled with it a bit, which shouldn’t be happening if I’m trying to write a healthy tobecky story. That’s all I’ll say on this for now because beyond this I would use Word Up as an example, so I’ll save that for later.

The older I get the more I realized how toxic this ship is. Heck, who knows what I’ll realize about it in the future when I’m even more mature. In the past I’ve tried to convince myself it’s okay I ship it because I never shipped Tobey with WordGirl, I shipped him with Becky. I know they are the same person, but Tobey doesn’t know that, and the dynamics between him and each of her egos are very different. The dynamic between Tobey and WordGirl reminds me of Gideon and Mabel from Gravity Falls. Meanwhile the one between Tobey and Becky reminds me more of the one between Jimmy and Cindy from The Adventures of Jimmy Neutron. That’s better right? Even if just a little bit? Well no, not really, because we all know darn well if Tobey fell for Becky instead of WordGirl he would treat Becky exactly the same as he treats WordGirl. He would ultimately have the same “WordBot esc” expectations. If anything he might try to treat her worse. With WordGirl there is a clear power balance, and while it’s still technically there with Becky, Tobey doesn’t know it’s still there and might try to use that to his advantage.

And to conclude I’d like to add to @fromtheplanethexagon above-mentioned post (here’s the link again, seriously, read it!). Regarding their final thoughts that it’s fine to explore the ship, and it’s fine to explore the unhealthy parts of the ship. But we need to be careful to not glorify the toxicity of the potential pairing.

[sarita-daniele]

Hi, angel! Hope you're doing alright 💓 (hola ángel! También hablo español :) ) I was wondering if you could give some advices in starting out in an arts career?

Hola amigx, ¡perdón que nunca vi tu mensajito! I’m not on my Tumblr very often and definitely forget to check my messages. Luckily my favorite causita @luthienne told me you’d messaged me! 

I don’t know what arts discipline you’re in, so feel free to let me know if the advice I have doesn’t apply to you (and ignore it!). There are so many ways to build an arts career, but I’m happy to share some things I’ve learned through trial and error along the way. 

(Outrageously long post below break!)

Educate yourself in arts technique, but also study widely. 

Techniques are important in art, but only as important as the concepts behind them. When I was younger, I wowed people by drawing near-photographic portraits, but that technical talent and skill alone couldn’t make me a professional artist. Memorable artwork has not just a how, but a why. It isn’t just the object but the story behind the object, and the meaning of the object in the world. Art is about what interests you, what makes you think, what you most value and want to change in this world. So as you build an arts career, learn the techniques behind drawing, woodworking, casting, writing, music-making, whatever your discipline is, but take time, if you can, to also study history, sociology, anthropology, ecology, linguistics, politics, or whatever else you’re drawn to conceptually. Study as widely as you can. 

The studio art program I went through (a public university in the US) was very technique-forward; we signed up for classes according to technique, like printmaking or small metals, learned those techniques, completed technique-based assignments. Then I did a one-term exchange at arts university in the UK that was very concept-forward. We had no technical courses, just exhibition deadlines, and what mattered in critique was the concept. Both of these schools had their strengths and flaws, but what I learned was that, to be a practicing artist, I needed both technique and concepts that I genuinely cared about and could stand behind. If I could go back and change anything, I would probably take fewer studio courses (after graduating, I couldn’t afford access to a wood shop, metal shop, or expensive casting materials, and lost many of those skills) and more courses in sociology, Latin American studies, linguistics, ecology, anthropology, etc., because my artwork today centers on social justice, racial justice, Latinx stories and histories, educational access and justice, the politics of language, and community ethics. 

And please know that whenever I talk about seeking an education, I’m not talking solely about institutional spaces. College career tracks in the arts (BFA, MFA, etc., much less high-cost conservatory programs) are not accessible to everyone and aren’t the only way to establish an arts career. You can study technique and learn about the world using any educational space accessible to you: nonprofits that offer programming in your community, online resources, Continuing Education programs. And of course, self-education: read as much as you possibly can!

Know the value of your story. 

I come from a Cuban/Peruvian family and grew up in Albuquerque, New Mexico, USA. My father’s family fled political violence surrounding the Cuban Revolution and came to the U.S. when he was a teenager. My mother was born in Brooklyn to Peruvian parents on work visas and moved back to Lima in her childhood. I grew up with these two cultures present and deeply embedded in our household, in our language, our food, our sense of humor, our sense of history. And yet, some residual assimilation trauma still affected me. I drifted towards the most American things, the whitest things, English authors and Irish music, in part because I enjoyed them but also because those were the things I saw valued in society. I wanted to fit in, wanted to be unique but not different, wanted to prove that I could navigate all spaces. The reality of marginalized identities in America is that our country tells us our identities are only valuable when they can be seen as exotic, while still kept inferior to the dominant, white American narrative (note that this “us” is a general statement, not meant to make assumptions about how you identify or what country you live in). 

But as an artist, all I have is my story, and who I am. I wasn’t willing to look at it directly. For years, I avoided doing so. It turns out, though, that I couldn’t actually begin my career until I reckoned with myself and learned to value everything about myself. To fully acknowledge my story, my history, my cultural reality, my sense of language, and my privileges. So I encourage young artists to look always inward, to ask questions about themselves, their families, and what made them who they are. 

The reason for doing this is to understand the source from which you make art.  Sometimes, however, for marginalized artists, the world warps this introspection into a trap, pigeonholing us into making art only “about” our identities, because that work is capital-I-Important to white audiences who want to tokenize our traumas. This is the white lens, and if anything, I try to understand myself as deeply as I can so that I can make art consciously for my community, not for that assumed white audience. 

Know that your career doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s, or like anything you’ve envisioned up to this point. 

As a high schooler I imagined that a life in the arts meant me in a studio, drawing and making, selling my work, getting exhibitions near and far, and gaining recognition. It was a solitary vision, one with a long history in the arts, rooted in the idea of individual genius. My career ended up completely different. Today, my arts projects involve teaching, collaborating, collecting interviews and oral histories, and creating public installations, rarely in traditional galleries or museums. 

As you work towards an arts career, figure out what does and doesn’t work for you: the kind of art you like and don’t like, the kinds of spaces that feel comfortable and those that don’t. I always thought I wanted to be part of traditional galleries, so I got a job working in a high-end art gallery in Boston during my grad program. Once in that space, however— even though I found the space calming and the work beautiful— I realized that there was something that I deeply disliked about the commodified art world. I didn’t like that we were selling art for over $10,000, that our exhibitions were geared exclusively towards collectors and wealthy art-buyers. The work was often technically masterful, but didn’t move or connect with me on a deeper level, and I realized that was because it wasn’t creating any change in the world. I liked work that shifted the needle, that made the world more inclusive and equitable, that centered marginalized stories (that gallery represented 90% white artists). I liked artwork that people made together, which drew me to collaborative art. I liked artwork that was accessible to everyone, not just the wealthy, which drew me to public art. I liked art exhibited in non-institutional spaces, which led me to community spaces. Since I was in an MFA for Creative Writing, I liked interdisciplinary art that engaged performance, technology, text, that was participatory and not just a 2D or 3D object. Figuring out all of these things led me to apply to my first major arts job: as a teaching artist in a community nonprofit that made art for social change in collaboration with local youth, in a predominantly Latinx neighborhood. 

My career path didn’t look like anything I expected, but I love it. The bulk of my income comes from teaching creative writing and art classes for nonprofits, working as a core member of a public arts nonprofit, and freelance consulting for book manuscripts. I love being an educator and consider it part of my creative practice. I love that I’m constantly collaborating with and talking to other artists. I love working with books and public art every day. I publish poetry, fiction, and literary translations, and exhibit artwork I’ve created in the studio and through funded opportunities. 

Fellow artists tell me often that I’m lucky, that my “day jobs” are all within the arts. But there are downsides to the way I’ve chosen to structure my career. I’m constantly balancing many projects, and my income is unstable. It’s difficult to save and plan towards the future,. I get by, but financial instability isn’t an option for many artists with families and dependents, with debts, medical expenses, and just isn’t the preferred lifestyle for a lot of people. I know artists who worked office jobs for years to support their practice and gain financial stability. I know artists who had entire careers as lawyers or accountants before becoming artists full time. I know artists who teach in public schools or work as substitute teachers. I know artists who are business owners and artists who work in policy and politics. I know artists who work in framing stores and shipping warehouses while being represented by galleries. These are all arts careers, and I admire every one of them. So as you build your career, don’t feel like it has to look like anyone’s else’s, like there’s anything you “should” be doing. Focus on the kind of artwork you want to make and what kind of work-life balance is best for you, then structure your career around that as best you can. 

Any job you use to support yourself can connect to an arts career!  

I get asked often by young people looking for jobs what kinds of jobs will best propel them towards an arts career. I believe that any kind of job can connect to and support an arts career, and I know that some suggestions out there in the arts world (like “get an unpaid internship at an art gallery!” or “become a studio apprentice to a well-known artist!”) assume a certain amount of privilege. So I want to break down how different kinds of jobs can connect to your art career: 

1) Jobs that allow for the flexibility and mental capacity to create. My friends who work restaurant jobs while going to auditions fall into this category. Who work as bartenders in evening so that they can be in the studio by day. Who dog-walk or babysit or nanny because the timing and flexibility allows for arts opportunities. My friends who are Lyft drivers or work in deliveries. These are often jobs outside of a creative field, but they can be beneficial because they don’t drain your creative batteries, so to speak. You still have your creative brain fully charged, and some jobs (like dog-walking) even allow for good mental processing (you can think through creative problems). As long as the job doesn’t drain you to the point where you have no energy at all, these kinds of jobs can be great because they allow time and space for your creative work. 

2) Jobs that place you in arts spaces, arts adjacent spaces, or spaces where you can learn about material/technique. My sculptor friends who work in hardware stores, quarries, foundries, or in construction. My printmaker friend who interned with graphic designers. My writer friends who work in bookstores and libraries, artists who work in art supply stores. My friend who worked with her dad’s painting company and got to improve her precision as a painter, which she then took back to the canvas. My teen students who get paid to work on murals or get stipend payments for making art at the nonprofit I work for. My filmmaker friends who worked on film crews. Friends who worked as theater ushers, in ticket sales, or as janitorial staff at museums. All of these jobs kept these artists adjacent to their artwork, whether through access to tools, materials, supplies, or books, through networking and conversations with other artists, or through skillsets that could enhance their art. 

3) Jobs that deeply engage another interest of yours, that bring you joy or can influence your work in other ways. If there’s a job that has nothing to do with your art but that you would love, do it! First, because I believe that the things we’re passionate about get integrated into our art, and second, because any job that gives you peace of mind and joy creates a positive base from which you can create. My friend who worked at a stable because she got to be around horses. My friends who worked at gyms or coaching sports because it kept them active. My friend who worked in a bike repair shop because he was obsessed with biking. An artist I knew who worked at the children’s science museum because she loved being around kids and planetariums. An artist who worked at a mineral store because rocks made her happy. If you have the opportunity, work doing things you like without worrying about whether it directly feeds your arts career.

Because believe it or not, all jobs you work can intersect in some way with your art. You’re creative— you find those connections! A Nobel-Prize winning poet helped his dad on the potato farm and wrote his best-known poem about it. Successful novelists have written about their time working in hair salons and convenience stores. A great printmaker I know who worked in a flower shop began weaving botanical forms and plant knowledge into her designs. The key in an arts career is to see all your experiences as valuable, to find ways that they can influence your art, and to be constantly thinking about and observing the world around you. 

As for me, I worked as a tennis instructor, a tennis court site supervisor, an academic advisor, an art gallery intern, and a coffee shop barista before and during my work in the arts!

Let go of objective measures of what it means to be good. 

I was always an academic overachiever. Top of my class, merit scholarships, science fair awards, AP credit overload, the whole thing. On the one hand, I grew up in a house where education was valued and celebrated, and my parents emphasized the importance of doing my best in school— not getting good grades, but working hard, doing my personal best, and reading and learning all I could. I loved school. I loved academics. And I’m not saying this to brag, but to lay the groundwork for something I struggled with in the arts.

It is jarring to be an academic overachiever and enter an arts career. I thrived off of objective value systems: study, work hard, get an A. If I worked hard and learned what I was supposed to learn, I earned recognition, validation, and opportunity. 

And then I entered the arts. The arts are entirely subjective. We hear it over and over— great artists get rejected hundreds of times, certain art forms require cutthroat competition, etc. —but it’s hard to understand the subjectivity of the art world (and the entrenched discrimination and commercial interests that affect who gets opportunities and who doesn’t) until you’re trying to live as an artist. That you can work hard on something, give all of your time and physical effort and mental and emotional energy to it, only to have it rejected. That what you think is good isn’t what another person thinks is good. That there is a magical alchemy in the act of creation that can’t be taught, or learned, but must be felt, and that you can be working to find that light while actively others try to extinguish it. That you can be good and work hard, yet still not get chosen for the awards, the exhibitions, the publications. If you chased being “the best” your whole life, you’re now in a world where there is no “best”, where greatness is subjective, where the idea of competitive greatness is actually detrimental to artists supporting each other, and where work that sells or connects to white, cishetero traditions is still the most valued. 

After struggling with this for a long time, I came to the conclusion that the most important thing to me now is making the art I want to make, the art only I can make, whether or not it fits what arts industries are looking for or what’s going to win awards. If I make art I believe in from a healthy mental and emotional place, doors will open, even if they aren’t the doors I expected. So try to let go of any sense that worth comes from external validation. Learn to accept critical feedback when it is given kindly, thoughtfully, and constructively. Surround yourself with friends and artists who who can talk to about your work, who build up your work and help you think through it rather than cutting you down. Don’t believe anyone in the arts world who thinks they get to be the arbiters of what’s “good” and who has “what it takes”. People have probably said things like that to the artists you most admire, and if they’d listened, you wouldn’t have experienced art that changed your life. 

Work to gain skills in basic business, marketing, and finances for artists. 

Many artists (at least where I am in the U.S.) go through an entire arts education without receiving resources or training in the financial side of the arts world. Your arts career will likely involve some degree of self-promotion and marketing, creating project budgets and grant proposals, artist statements and bios, sorting out taxes, and other economic elements. I can’t speak to other countries, but for artists in the U.S., taxes can be extremely complex. If you’re awarded a stipend, grant, fellowship, or employed for gigs or one-time projects, you’ll likely be taxed as an independent contractor and have to deduct your own taxes. Through residencies and exhibitions, you may pull income in multiple states and countries, which can also affect taxation. If you’re an artist who doesn’t have access to resources about finance and taxation in your arts program or who doesn’t independently have expertise in those fields, I recommend finding ways to educate yourself early: online resources, low cost courses, or even just taking your financially-savvy friends out for a coffee!

ANYWAY SORRY FOR THE LONG POST I HOPE SOMETHING IN THIS DIATRIBE WAS HELPFUL I HOPE THERE WEREN’T TOO MANY TYPOS AND I hope you have the most wonderful, fulfilling arts career! <3 

[ryqoshay]

Tri-Arame: A Train’s Delay

Primary Pairing Trio: YuuAyuSetsu Words: ~1.6k Rating: G Time Frame: During their 2nd year in high school Story Arc: Stand Alone

Author’s Note: Writing the last scene made me want to give Ayu’s perspective on the early development of things among the three.

“I’m telling you, the pose will be really cute.” Yuu insisted as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “The fans will love it, so we should definitely work it into your choreography for the next Live.”

“I’ll think about it.” Ayumu conceded.

Yuu’s obsession with school idols had led her to performing a ton of research, so there was little doubt as to the extent of her knowledge. However, Ayumu knew she had to temper the advice with the fact that Yuu called pretty much everything about her cute. Though as embarrassing as it often was, Ayumu couldn’t say she disliked it. And she was in no hurry to tell Yuu stop anytime soon. It just meant she had to gauge things carefully and occasionally seek a second opinion. A critique from someone like…

“Setsuna-chan!” Yuu called suddenly.

Yes, Setsuna was another excellent source of school idol information. And in the newly reformed club she was learning how to be more accepting of other views on the genre. Thus… Wait, she was here?

Sure enough, Ayumu looked in the direction Yuu was already running to find their fellow second year. Having just disembarked her train, she now stood facing them, her dark hair in twin braids and her glasses donned.

A flash of excitement crossed Setsuna’s face as she saw her friends before she visibly quashed it and forcibly reigned herself in. “Please, I’m Nana right now.” She said, giving a quick and nervous glance to either side, as if expecting her parents to get off the next train and catch her in a brief moment of not being the studious and somber girl they expected her to be.

Ayumu felt something wrench at her heart. She didn’t like seeing her friend having to repress her passions, especially since it was Setsuna who had ignited passions within herself and Yuu. She enjoyed watching Yuu be open about her obsessions with school idols, not only because she was incredibly cute when excited, but also because it helped keep her inspired to continue working on becoming more open herself. It was for these reasons that she and Yuu had invited Setsuna to the mall with them the other day, to give her a few hours to be truly open and honest with her interests.

“Ne, Nana-chan,” Yuu effortlessly switched gears “wanna walk to school with us?”

“I’d like that.” Nana replied. “Good morning, Ayumu-san.” She greeted the redhead with a polite bow.

“Good morning, Nana-san.”

Though genuine, the smile Nana offered was far more reserved than those she typically displayed as Setsuna.

“You know,” Yuu continued “Ayumu and I have taken this same train every day since we started high school and we’ve never crossed paths with you. Did you take a different one today or something?”

“No, that was my normal train.” Nana shook her head. “They just had a delay at the station before me.” To prove the point, she held up the delay certificate. “Though I suppose if you two usually arrive at this time and do not suffer punctuality issues at school, I don’t really need this.” She slipped it back in her bag anyway instead of discarding it in a nearby recycling bin.

“So I guess today was just an accident.” Yuu surmised.

“It would seem so.”

Yuu shrugged. “But at happy accident at least, ‘cause we get to walk together now.”

Another reserved smile.

“Anyway, I was just telling Ayumu that she should consider using this pose at the end of her new song at the next Live.” Yuu paused to demonstrate.

Nana stopped as well to examine Yuu thoughtfully. “Ayumu-san.” She said suddenly.

“Eh?” Ayumu wasn’t expecting to be addressed.

“Would you mind taking this position? I believe I might better judge it by observing the correct subject.”

“S-sure…” Ayumu battled the rising sense of unease at the concept of making idol poses in the middle of the walkway while dressed in her school uniform, as opposed to on stage in an idol outfit.

“Hrm… Perhaps if you moved your forearm up a bit more…” Nana reached out to make the adjustment. “And your other arm like this… Turn your wrist… Maybe shift your hips… And your torso…”

Ayumu almost bit her tongue as Nana’s hands slid up her waist to the sides of her ribcage before gently guiding her to the new position.

“How about this, Yuu-san?” Nana took a step back to admire her handiwork.

“That’s amazing, Nana-chan!” Yuu marveled. “Ayumu’s pose is even cuter like that!”

Cuter? Ayumu tried, likely unsuccessfully, to swallow down a blush.

“Indeed.” Nana agreed. “Although, I cannot take all the credit. The pose is only accentuating the existing high level of cuteness.”

Oh no… It was one thing when Yuu constantly called her cute, but now Setsu… Nana was joining in as well? Ayumu felt the heat overflowing from her face, up to her ears and down her neck. Geez… if she was going to survive as an idol, she would have to get better at handling these kinds of things.

“And Yuu-san set up the base work well.” Nana continued. “It is obvious you know much about your subject.”

“Subject? Ayumu? Of course I know her and her cuteness well.” Yuu puffed out her chest as though she believed the accomplishment was worthy of great pride. “But Nana-chan, you really know your stuff when it comes to idols. I may know Ayumu's cuteness, but you were able to help me truly refine the pose to ensure it shined at its brightest. And I'm still trying to learn the other girls in the club. I may have to have you teach me your ways so I can better observe you guys during practice and give better advice after.”

Though clearly enjoying the praise, Nana continued to keep herself reserved. Ayumu felt a bittersweet emotion start to fill her, displacing the embarrassment from earlier as the conversation shifted away from her. She wanted to see her friend like she was when the three of them went to the mall together. Back when the anime-obsessed girl was practically vibrating with excitement like a puppy, so much so that Ayumu had wanted to pat her on the head and scratch under her chin. The girl walking with her now was behaving instead like a puppy being cautious in its excitement after being scolded for doing something wrong.

Except Nana hadn’t done anything wrong, at least not as far as Ayumu could tell. She was merely guilty of having hobbies unapproved by her parents. It was for this reason that Ayumu and Yuu had reached a mostly unspoken agreement to provide an outlet for Nana to be Setsuna and freely celebrate her passions. The idol club certainly helped, but idols were by no means Setsuna’s only interests.

It wasn’t the easiest of tasks. On entering high school, Ayumu had tried to mature and move on from many things of her childhood. Yuu had an easier time picking back up former interests, but it had taken the burning passion of someone like Setsuna to remind Ayumu that it was alright to hold on to some things. In that regard, Ayumu felt somewhat indebted to Setsuna, so she was repaying it by helping her indulge in her interests.

Then there was Ayumu’s jealousy. As club activities continued, she was becoming increasingly aware of such emotions as Yuu lavished her attentions on the other idols. And when Yuu and Setsuna lost themselves in something, it was difficult for Ayumu to avoid feeling left out.

However, the rewards for the task were plentiful. When Setsuna truly let loose, her smile was nothing short of contagious. And Ayumu couldn’t help wanting to see it more.

The trio continued to talk idols and make plans for practice later that afternoon as they completed their walk toward school. Nana was adamant about helping perfect Ayumu’s performance and maximize her cuteness. Yuu suggested bringing in Kasumi, their local specialist on the topic of cuteness, to which Nana agreed. All the while, Ayumu’s thoughts continued to focus on how much Nana was holding back.

“Thank you for allowing me to accompany you this morning.” Nana bowed as the three paused in the front entryway of the school.

“It was our pleasure.” Ayumu assured her.

“Yeah, that was fun.” Yuu agreed. “Maybe your train will be delayed again tomorrow?”

There it was. That was the smile Ayumu had wanted to see. Perhaps Nana felt safer within the school walls? Or perhaps it was a result of spending time with trusted friends? Or both. Ayumu quietly hoped it was at least in part due to the latter.

“See you at practice.” Nana flashed one more smile before turning away and heading toward her homeroom.

“I sent you the link so you can view them later.” Yuu said as she and Ayumu stepped off the train. “Their choreography is amazing! I think we can learn a lot from…” Something caught her attention. “Nana-chan!” She called before taking off.

Ayumu glanced ahead along Yuu’s path. Sure enough, leaning against a nearby pillar was their fellow second year.

Nana looked up from whatever study material she was reading. “Good morning Yuu-san, Ayumu-san.” She smiled and bowed politely.

“Good morning, Nana-san” Ayumu replied as she caught up to her childhood friend.

“Don’t tell me I jinxed you with your train?” a concerned expression crossed Yuu’s face.

“Oh no,” Nana assured “my train arrived on time just fine. I just…” she glanced down and hunched her shoulders a bit “I had so much fun yesterday morning I thought perhaps we might walk together again today? If… that’s alright?” She looked back up with a hopeful expression.

Yuu laughed. “Of course, it's alright, Nana-chan!”

“Yes, it’s definitely alright.” Ayumu agreed. “Let’s walk together again.”

Even in its reserved form, Nana’s smile still managed enough of its contagious nature that Ayumu was compelled to reciprocate. And with that, a new morning tradition began.

Author's Note Continued in Followup Post

[joelmillerthirstqz]

Hello, okay, a PSA first: Joel spends two games super effectively snapping hyoid bones so he’s DEFINITELY not going to be stupid about this or unaware of how easy it is to kill someone, and nor should you!

Don’t put pressure on someone’s larynx. You can snap that shit. Please, please read up on safe practice, talk to your partner(s), keep shears/charged phones/first aid kits nearby.

Here’s a decent resource. Consent is key, have fun, and please educate yourselves so nobody gets hurt.

---------

Joel means to pin your shoulder, heel of his hand on your collarbone when it slips, wrought by your wriggling under him and the consistent slam of his hips as he pounds into you, legs around his waist and back driving into the bed with each impact.

You cough with surprise as he strikes the bottom of your larynx, immediately springing off of you since at least half of his body weight definitely landed. You see stars and your head feels murky enough that you’re still thrusting weakly even as he withdraws.

“Shit, you alright?” he asks, warm drawl drawing you back to him, pads of his thumbs fluttering over your neck.

You take a slow breath and blink at him, his hand coming up to your face.

“You ever try that before?” you query curiously, Joel on his knees at the edge of the bed.

“A little bit, with better aim,” he admits after a pause. You scrape your fingernails through his beard on one side, considering him.

Joel can still be shy of confessing previous experiences (as if you’d care where he’d been) and the heat in his face is beyond endearing. You won’t poke, but you’re so in love with everything to do with him that you can’t help but imagining attempts in his youth. Was it before the outbreak? You can’t imagine him seeking out physical stress after, but if the way you’d dismantle the house when he’d return from a particularly frightening patrol was any indication, this was a perfect space for him to process in. He’s agile and strong, far shy of his years, and it wasn’t uncommon to pass hours at a time learning each other and testing your boundaries. Mostly, thinking about your very separate pasts makes you wish you’d met him decades ago, not to detract from how good your ardent catching-up has been.

“What if I want you to do it again?” you ask quietly.

Joel’s eyes dart all over your face like he’s trying to collect more data on the simple request. He looks thoughtful for a minute. Maybe it’s just endorphins thrumming through you, but you love this face on him. Perhaps just love his face, defined features setting deeper when he’s focused.

“Can I ask why?”

Your sweat is starting to cool and he moves to join you on the bed, hand brushing your thigh repeatedly as he asks the question.

“I trust you and it feels good to see stars,” you shrug and he chuffs a laugh. “You?”

“Want to make you come as hard as I possibly can?” he tries.

“Then put your hands back on me, Joel,” you say, satisfied.

Where you’d usually get a haughty ‘yes ma’am,’ Joel moves slowly instead, kissing you like he did when this had started the first time, downstairs, rolling you under him without resistance. He kisses your neck, grazing with his teeth, stroking your chest with open palms as he works.

“Come here,” he speaks slowly, reorienting you to straddle him, hand on your sternum.

“Afraid of your own strength?” you snip at him, derisive curl to your mouth.

“Baby doll, I’ll make you fuckin’ terrified of it if you don’t shut up and take it,” he growls and you smile in satisfaction you can’t hide, his voice rolling through you as he guides his stunningly hard length in.

You’re already sore from starting at the bottom of the stairs and had made it exceptionally challenging for him to muscle you into bed from there, hence his attempt to pin you. His cock stretches you to what feels like a limit and he sighs before running his left hand flat up your chest. Taking him in laid out like this never gets old, defined musculature and spattering of scars assuredly solid beneath you.

“Arrogant—” you get out, his hand closing on either side of your neck, pressure flooding between your ears until you taste stars. You’ve stopped being able to ride him so he takes over, taking you from beneath with just as much command as any other way he’d have you.

You break the first layer of skin with your fingernails on his forearm, gripping for purchase even as his other hand holds you perfectly fast. Joel hisses in displeasure—it’s too warm for long sleeves and he can already hear Ellie barreling past his boundaries with her questions.

“More,” you try to breathe, actually closer to mouthing it out. He can try to be cautious, but he only has so much restraint when you beg.

“Doesn’t feel like you need more,” Joel comments, watching you with dark eyes as you feel his right hand inch towards your center. His hand hovers just above your slit, thumb ready to smooth through your folds with his left hand flexing around your neck, mindful of your windpipe.

You’re pulsing over him, hips rocking near-mechanically as your head spins. You’d feel entirely untethered if his hands didn’t press into your skin with total familiarity, even in this new way. Joel could do anything to you, and the acceptance of that absolute fact clicks into place as he watches you with his entire focus.

“You gonna come for me?” he rumbles, balancing on his arm behind him to come level with your face, watching your eyes and brushing his mouth against yours. He eases up the pressure on your throat so you can answer, immediately strumming over your clit with his thumb to keep you submerged in feeling.

“Not your best effort,” you snarl and Joel’s eyes flare, flipping you harshly to your stomach and slamming back inside of you in one vicious thrust. There’s no real ego to contend with outside of bed, but he meets your playful critiques with raw demonstration like this every single time. Luckily, all you ever want is for him to prove how perfectly he can rise to your challenges, the same as you do for his.

Joel’s forearms wrap around your front, arcing your back up acutely towards him, exposing your neck so he can watch where his hand falls. Completely pinned, his thrusts almost rattle you into fragments, mouth slack and eyes rolling with the renewed, stronger pressure around your throat. You soak in the sensation of his hard chest against your back, tough calluses burrowing into the delicate skin of your throat and chest.

Joel curls over you and bites the tip of your ear harder than he needs to, making you squirm. You’re too far under to smile but he can read your placid face as utterly content, messily placing a kiss at the corner of your mouth as he plows into you.

You make quiet, suppressed noises as you start to drift, shivering to the edges of your limbs as you begin to come.

“That’s it,” Joel encourages, a smile starting to break as he tries to gather you closer. He’s cocky about this and you’re lying when you say it doesn’t spur you. Squeezing his eyes shut to feel your strained, extended pulses around his cock, he releases your neck when they begin to run together and smooth out.

You cry out without any definition to the sound, Joel holding you up against him, both your thighs slick from your efforts. It sounds a little like you’re sobbing but Joel sits back, not pulling out of you, to let you ride through it in his lap. When air bursts through your chest in normal circuits at least ten times, you turn just to be instantly captured, his mouth ravenous on yours, hips anxiously flexing below you.

You pull off of him and put your knees down on either side of his hips. “Get on your back,” you say, hearing how hoarse you sound now as you shove him onto his back.

“Dunno what you think you’re doing, still shivering like that,” Joel teases, broad hand tucking your hair behind your ear as another aftershock rolls through your core.

“Joel, shut up,” you say, sheathing him inside you and taking his throat in hand. It clearly surprises him by the way his chest expands immediately, eyes going wide.

You’re shaking still but know he’s close enough that this won’t be long. His hand flies to your wrist on instinct and he grips it like an anchor, surrendering to being ridden with his usual victorious air.

Joel doesn’t—or can’t— make a sound as he finishes deep inside of you, hips lifting you both off the bed with this desperate expression on his handsome features that you hope you remember for the rest of your life. It looks like he would be pleading if he could, taken aback by the pull of deliriously spaced pleasure coming in hot waves every few long seconds.

You lift your hand as he starts to slacken, allowing with it a soft moan that you’d never heard the likes of before. Well beyond your ability to stay upright before, you collapse onto his chest and feel a low chuckle begin in his abdomen. You tilt your head up sharply, peering at him.

“Wha—I,” Joel laughs and covers his face with one hand. You crawl up his chest to kiss him, curling into his warmth.

He keeps opening his mouth like he’s going to speak but just readjusts each time he tries. You look up into hazel eyes you never get tired of taking in, content in a mutual appreciation for shared silence. Joel winds your fingers together and rests your hands over his heart, pulse still trying to tell him he’s in danger as you tug the sheets up over you.

“Fuck, oh,” Joel purses his lips, untangling his hand to brush over your bruised neck. “Hell.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll cover it,” you wave off.

“Not worried about that—you ‘right?” the sincere nervousness in his tone is reaffirming. The fact that he enjoyed leaving possessive bites all over you didn’t extend to accidentally bruising you this much.

“Stop fussing,” you complain, kissing him, tugging lightly on mostly black, grey-streaked hair.

“Nope, c’mon,” he pulls back from you, scrambling out of bed. You look up at him expectantly.

“Or stay,” he assents, returning after a rapid hammering of footsteps to the kitchen with a towel full of ice. His own neck is flecked with semicircular wounds instead of pressure marks, but he shrugs it off as he passes the mirror in the hallway, knees shakier than he’d have expected.

Returning to your waiting arms and wreathing your collarbones in the towel, you both settle against the headboard and watch the early evening light creep over Jackson from his bedroom window.

[wintersweetbou]

Glaiveweek 2020- Day 2. This Never Happened

Day 2 of Glaiveweek 2020! @glaiveweek

Prompt: Fun and Games- Prank Wars, Tickle Fights, Hide and Seek Warp Tag

Summary: A glitter bomb in Titus Drautos’s personal office starts a series of shenanigans never before seen in the Citadel. Eyebrows, laundry, and dignity are lost. For a moment, all hell breaks loose. Then the King walks in to check on his glaives. What he sees will never be forgotten.

Titus Drautos stretched, watching heavy raindrops spatter his window. Monday meant training with the glaives, supply forms, meeting with the king, and preparing his budget proposal for the council to approve... He rubbed his eyes tiredly. Getting the money needed to keep the glaive running was like pulling teeth out of those stingy bastards. 

A boom startled the Captain into glancing down below. Lightning flashed as a bunch of newer glaives ran from the safety of the parking garage into their headquarters. The greenhorns whooped at the cold, splashing each other as they ran. The more experienced glaives warped the distance, laughing. Titus smiled, and gathered himself together. Time to address the troops. 

Midmorning combat drills in the arena began with Titus circulating with critique. Nyx was quick, but needed endurance. Libertus had him panting after the first few rounds. Good team- balanced eachother out... Tredd lost his patience and was subsequently thrown by Luche into a wall. Crowe had to be repeatedly reminded that fire did not solve everything, and Pelna lost an eyebrow in her resulting demonstration that fire did indeed solve everything. The only senior members not giving Titus a headache were Axis and Sonitus- just smoothly sparring like everyone was supposed to be. 

The Captain massaged his temples as a resounding boom, flash, and cut off screech filled the arena. Crowe had not only broken through Pelna’s shield, but also managed to dash him against the ground hard enough to knock him unconscious. She was at his side, checking him over apologetically. Nothing broken, aside from some pride, and a probable concussion. 

“I’ll take him to the hospital. Crowe, no more magic in combat sparring! Tredd, if you don’t like the taste of dirt, change your approach! Luche, you are in charge while I’m gone. After drills, run through the warp course- focus on precision. And when we get back, meet in the briefing hall. Crownsguard wants to run security simulations in the castle- joint exercise might be good for us all.” Titus called out, after hefting the noodly Pelna in his arms.

Various murmurs of assent rose behind them as they left. Pelna came to a few minutes later, groggily settling into a seat in a crown fleet vehicle. The trip to and from the hospital was uneventful- Pelna would be fine if he took it easy, it was a mild concussion. The glaive was more embarrassed to have been carried off by his boss after passing out. The paperwork was minimal, and they were out of the hospital in no time. The glaive seemed more steady as time went on, but there was a slight wobble to his movements as they got back in the vehicle.

“I’m sorry for being a bother, thank you for the ride.” Pelna stated, eyes down as he buckled in.

 “I take care of my glaives. Be thankful it is only a mild concussion” Titus stated fondly.

By lunch they were back, and Titus explained the proposed joint field exercises with the crownsguard. The glaives seemed open to the idea. The captain delegated requisition forms work to Pelna for the afternoon, and asked that Crowe check in on him every so often. With peace seemingly achieved, Titus left them to afternoon resistance training and cardio. 

Crowe descended on Pelna the second the captain was out the door. 

“I was out of line, I am so sorry- are you ok?” 

“Mild concussion, just a bit tired. I’m ok, just don’t hit so hard, ok?”

“Yeah...I’ll check on you, no napping while concussed.” Crowe hugged him softly, smoothing his hair where it stuck up and running a finger where his left eyebrow no longer was. Pelna smiled softly, and hugged back. 

“Take it easy, Khara. I’ll be up after the first rotation.” She smiled, lightly tickling him under his arms. He flinched, squeaking, and fled when her smile turned predatory. She chuckled at his swift retreat, and turned to the weight room, where the other glaives had started. 

One rotation later, Crowe trotted up the stairs with a mug of tea to and down the hall to the offices, to find Pelna semi-asleep over a stack of forms and files. She smiled and slid the mug over the desk. 

“Pels? Peeellls? Wake uppp…” A murmur in response.  

“I brought tea, just the way you like ittt.” A grunt. 

“Please? I know it's hard, and my fault, so here is my support. Wake up!” A grumbled five more minutes mom had Crowe tickling his neck. He squirmed and hiked his shoulders up, slapping lightly at her hands. She slipped a hand under his arm and dug into his pit. Pelna squealed and burst into giggles. Crowe grinned as his arms crashed down, trapping her hand there. She kept it up for just a squidge more and then stopped enough for her to get her hand back. “Awake now?” She grinned at his tired nod. 

“Sorry. The lights kind of hurt my eyes, so I closed them for just a sec…” He rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes, groaning. 

“Drink the tea, and there are some energy bars left in the snack drawer. I suggest breaks. It helped me when Libertus knocked me into that rock formation a few months back...I still haven’t repaid him for that…” 

“No more injuries today, Miss Altuis. Please?”

“Very well, Mister Khara. Drink, and eat. I promise no blood will be spilled by me today. But you gave me a lovely idea.” Pelna nodded tiredly and lightly sipped at the tea, letting the caffeinated warmth soak into his bones. Crowe skipped lightly back down the hall. Second rotation was about to begin, she had to hurry. Down the stairs she saw the door ajar and heard voices on the other side. Impatiently she yanked the door open and squawked as ice water drenched her, bucket settling over her head with a solid clunk. Laughter echoed throughout the weight room but stopped when they saw just who they had drenched.

Time stopped as she lifted the bucket, fire coursing through her veins. She scanned the room, looking for the guilty party. There. Libertus and Nyx, trying to look innocent for the amount of time it took for her to cross the room and lob the bucket at them. 

“We weren’t trying to drench you! Tredd was being a dick, and ran to get something...We were supposed to get Tredd!” Libertus said as Tredd burst back in the room, pausing at the puddle in the doorway, and then at the sight of Crowe sopping wet, holding a giggling Nyx by the throat. 

“So unprofessional. Such children. Much wow.”  Tredd grinned and turned back to the machines, continuing his reps. 

Crowe snarled, shaking Nyx, and released her grip on his shirt only to grab at his waist. Nyx yelped and curled in on himself laughing, just as she knew he would. She clawed into the meat under his floating ribs, earning a squeal, and followed as he sank to his knees. Crowe smirked- Nyx never could take side tickles, especially if you got your nails in there just right. Nyx squished himself forward into a tight ball, howling. She plopped down onto his back, searching for just the right angle. He thrashed weakly under her, and cried out to Libertus for help.  

“C’mon, we still need him. Release.” Libertus grunted as he attempted to slip an arm around her, only to be bitten on said arm in response. Libertus jerked back hissing. Crowe found the spot she was looking for, and Nyx broke into what the internet would call ugly laughter. He screeched and pleaded for mercy between desperate guffaws.

All in the weight room were now watching the kerfuffle as Libertus struggled to pry Crowe off Nyx. Libertus was easily the strongest glaive save the captain, but she was fighting dirty- biting, kicking. Calls of encouragement to Crowe, snickers, and fond sighs echoed around the room, training forgotten. Nyx was screeching in tears when Libertus finally hauled Crowe up, only for her to twist in his grip and jab into his ribs. He cursed and folded inward for just a sec, long enough for Crowe to clamber on his back and begin blowing vicious raspberries on the back of his neck where the braids left him exposed.  

“Release! Release!” Libertus roared, violently twisting to shake her off, getting desperate. Crowe never waivered, and continued as his strength waned. 

“How long do you think he will last?” Tredd snickered to Luche from his perch on the rowing machine. Luche leaned against the wall, smiling as Libertus started to snort between his growls at Crowe. 

“Dunno. He’s held on pretty good for a while now. Compared to some, anyway.” Luche gestured to Nyx, still panting in a ball on the floor mats. 

Tredd nodded, chuckling as Libertus broke, still thrashing, into a giggling fit punctuated by snorts of random intensity. Luche stretched, glancing out the one window- the storm still raging, even stronger now, since the rain appeared to be going sideways. Tredd snorted at the scuffle, drawing Luche’s attention back to the present. Libertus tapped out and Crowe relented with a smirk, sliding off his back and landing with a laugh. 

“Cardio in ten, then cooldown and then home.” Luche murmured. Tredd nodded absently, collecting his things, writing down their current weight and reps. The other glaives did the same, slowly collecting themselves and ambling toward the arena for laps and sprints. 

Pelna groaned, stretching his shoulders. So much damn paperwork for such stupid things. Every little thing from weapons to office supplies to toilet paper had to be requisitioned, signed, and returned for financial approval. This fucking sucked. He rubbed his eyes, and glowered at the stack of forms, slightly smaller, but still there. The captain stomped in then, looking worse for wear. 

“How was the meeting?” Pelna tried to appear chipper. 

“Slow. The council wants to challenge every little bit of our budget, and the king had little to offer…” The captain said, the anger in his eyes cooling into exhaustion.

“We're in this together, we appreciate you taking care of us.” Pelna glanced up, re shuffling the stack of papers. Drautos nodded, and walked back to his private office in the back of the cubicles, lightly shutting the door. Pelna shook his head. That. That was worse than doing boring forms all day. He couldn't imagine having to argue for toilet paper and keep a straight face. He turned back to his work, but startled when a loud pop and a shout exploded from Drautos’s office. Pelna shot up in concern, hearing vicious cursing, a second pop, and what sounded like furniture being tossed around. He was halfway across the office floor when the door to the captains office flung open, revealing Drautos, disheveled, wild eyed...and covered in fine, bright pink glitter. 

 “Are you ok Sir?” Pelna’s jaw dropped, then closed as he took in the fury building in the captain’s eyes and frame. The captain wordlessly held up the empty glitterbomb, and pointed to his office. Pelna slowly leaned around to peer into the sparkle blasted space. From the spray, it was rigged to blow when someone opened the main desk drawer, pointed right where one would sit at a desk, chest height. The second charge coated everything else. It was everywhere.The walls, part of the ceiling,the desk, cabinets, couch...the entirety of the floor...it would never come out of the cheap industrial carpet entirely…

The captain shook himself like a dog, shedding a fair amount of pink sparkles, but as with any fine glitter, it stuck to his skin and clothes. Pelna watched in silence as the captain strode over to glare into the mirror by the small kitchenette in the corner. He snarled, and rounded on the backpedaling glaive. 

“You're not the type for this kind of stupidity, Khara. Did anyone come to visit my office?” Pelna shook his head, glancing worriedly at the door. Drautos was not one for outbursts- his control was normally too strong, but the ridiculousness of the situation had worn that away.

“I don’t know who did this, but when I find out who..” Drautos grinned, all teeth. 

Pelna nodded, slowly backing towards the door. It might have been the light. It might have been Pelna’s concussion messing with his sight, but with a boom of thunder the power flickered out and Drautos’s eyes glowed blood red in the dark. Pelna’s heart skipped a beat as the captain laughed, talking to himself about what he was going to do to the prankster. It was too much, the glaive backed slowly out of the offices, turning to warn the others.

The group prepared in the arena, lightly warming up. The usual three laps around the arena for a main workout, and then one lap interval sprints for max overload. Lightning flashed overhead, the carbon dome of the arena showing the storm’s fury on full display. The glaives looked up into the gale. Some sleepy, some calm, some excited, and some indifferent. But they all looked. And the power flicked out. Murmurs of surprise flicked around the group, then of concern when Pelna warped into the arena. He staggered with the landing- stupid to warp while concussed- but he looked like a man on a mission. 

“Drautos is coming! Whoever in the mother of fuck did it needs to run for their lives- stat!”

“Who did what?” Luche steadied the teetering glaive, putting an arm around him for stability. 

“Who did what indeed, my glaives…” Drautos rumbled from the hallway entrance. There was a collective intake of breath at the sight of the captain of the kingsglaive plastered in pink glitter prowling along the edge of the arena. The newer glaives choked back grins, and the more experienced glaives barely held back dropped jaws. Pranking each other was one thing- a common occurrence even!- but glittering the captain? Unthinkable. Until now.  

“Since nothing is sacred, the afternoon cardio session will be different from the usual. I want the prankster. Until I get a name, we are going to play a little game.” The glaives dared not to move as their captain circled, grinning with no mirth. No one said a word as Drautos spun, shedding sparkles like a murderous Tinkerbell, typing in a long string of numbers into a security keypad. The building shuddered slightly, and red emergency lights flicked on every so often. Enough to see by, but not enough to see well. Lockdown. 

“Sir?...” Libertus began in concern, but was cut off by a laugh. 

“Lockdown, as you know, means that the doors to the outside are shuttered and barred, as are the windows, and passageways to the rest of the citadel. We are locked in. There is just the domed arena, and the facilities in the corners- the offices to the north, barracks in the east, armory in the south, and holding cells in the west... I want a name.” 

The glaives glanced at each other nervously. Pelna looked at the most rambunctious glaives- Nyx, Tredd, Libertus, Crowe, Luche...all had the wild eyes of kids being blamed for something they didn't do. The others peered into the darkness, innocence on their sleeves. Pelna’s brow furrowed. Who the fuck did it? 

“Until I get a name, we will be playing unfair hide and seek. For the next two hours, I will seek- and drag those I catch into the holding cells. Those who are caught will run laps and polish the armory for the next week.” A communal gulp spread through the soldiers. 

“Those of you who manage to remain free will have no punishment. If I get a name, all get off free and we forget this happened.” The group inhaled and steeled themselves. Nobody had a name to give, or had the balls to speak up. 

“Very well...you have two hours.” Drautos slid his phone out, set an alarm, slid it back in, and growled at his glaives. 

“One, two, three…” He slapped a palm over his eyes and snarled.

 Reality shimmered in the arena as all glaives present warped away at once, in a wave of effervescent fire, with an incredulous captain angrily counting to one hundred in the epicenter. The fleeing soldiers fanned out once out of hearing range. Pairs or trios of friends slipped into the gloom together, hoping to hide out, or have the option to sell eachother out. Nervous energy crackled in the dark between the red emergency lights. Where to hide? Who would get caught first? Excitement tinged the anxiety, and grins flashed in the maroon glow.

Pelna staggered down the southeast hallway- warping while concussed was awful, but doable. He glanced left- a pair of glaives scampering into the armory- Nyx and Libertus. The armory had crates of gear, weapon racks, a cargo bay, supplies....stacks of things to hide in or behind...not a bad idea. Three glaives slipped him on his right, headed towards the barracks. The barracks was the obvious choice for any seeker to start- rows of lockers, cots spread in small groups, little clusters of couches and tables. Not many glaives used the barracks often, it was just a spot to crash and heal between deployments, or for new recruits who hadn't any outside lodging arranged yet. Rent was fucking cheap, and so was the food brought in from the keep’s kitchens. Pelna stayed a month once, when he first started. It worked. 

An arm wrapped around his waist, and Pelna jolted back to reality, barely managing to restrain the punch to Crowe’s now grinning mouth. She pulled him into the shadows as a panicked shape skittered past. She held a finger against her lips, and pointed upwards. Pipes and vents ran the length of the hallway ceiling, supplying heat, air and water to the facilities. He raised his surviving eyebrow. There wasn't enough room for her to squeeze up there, let alone him, or that the air vents probably would not take their weight. She tugged him along, to the doorway to the armory, and pointed up again. He grinned- the main vent widened and dropped lower as it snaked into the armory. There was enough room for someone to curl up there in the darkness against the ceiling, definitely Crowe, probably Pelna. But both? Not without some severe cuddling. She dropped her stance, hooking her fingers together, gesturing to boost him up. His eyes widened, and he started to shake his head, but approaching footsteps quashed his thoughts. He stepped up, and jumped, boosted by Crowe. Pelna hauled himself up quickly, and slid into the shallow, low space. He spun, listening intently. He heard a grunt, and then grunted himself as Crowe popped up and tucked herself into his chest cavity. He held back a noise of surprise as she pressed her face into his neck, making herself comfortable. Or as comfortable as anyone was going to get wedged between a vent and drywall. The skittish steps passed as a lone glaive darted into the armory. They relaxed. 

“How did you know about this spot?” Pelna whispered.

“Growing up with Nyx and Libs taught me to find little nooks to hide in. Perfect spot to snipe paintballs from.” Crowe breathed, and Pelna felt her feral grin against his throat. 

“Still. How did you know we would both fit?”

“Promise not to tell?” He promised.

“Perfect napping spot. If you go to the office doorway, the hot air return is above the door. I've got a bit of canvas so my skin doesn’t stick to the metal, and some blankets up there. It's heaven.” She smiled. 

“That sounds like heaven. Can I steal a nap or two up there?” Pelna breathed. 

“Sure, as long as you leave snacks as tribute, and keep the secret..” He nodded.

The door below them to the armory crashed open. His arms slipped around her in shock, holding her close, both holding their breath, listening hard. They couldn’t see, but they could imagine.

“Here I am, glaives! Come out, come out, wherever you are…” Drautos called out into the dark armory. Silence greeted the captain, but he knew better. He grinned, settling into the game. He wanted to play with his glaives, a little mind game could give him a name faster as their nerves failed. He growled into the gloom, stalking around the edges, looking for disturbed gear and boxes. Nyx watched from his perch laying flat on the roof of a transport van. The captain was sticking to the upper armory, tapping on storage crates, Nyx was safe for the moment. As long as the captain didn’t come and check the spare vehicles by the loading dock…

The captain's snarl forced his attention back to the present, and Nyx trembled minutely. Drautos was almost to Lib’s crate- he had stuffed himself in an empty weapons crate, the only kind big enough for him to squeeze into. The captain continued along the row, tapping some, opening others….Nyx gripped the van’s roof rails tight. He was almost there. Two crates away. One crate. Libs! 

A choked sneeze echoed through the armory as Drauto’s hand descended towards the crate. The new recruit that slipped in at the last minute. He had dove behind a stack of crates by the door just as Nyx clambered up the van. Drautos grinned madly, teeth shining in the red light. The internal screaming was palpable from all parties but the captain, who personally favored evil glee. Nyx winced at the short scuffle. The captain had the new recruit in cuffs and out the door in under a minute. 

Hearing the two sets of steps pass, one steady, the other not so, Nyx peeped over the van roof. He hopped down, and ran as quietly as he could to Libertus. He tapped the lid, just like they used to do in their treefort back in Galahad before it all burned. Libertus cracked the lid slowly, then opened it fully at the sight of Nyx grinning like a madman. 

“He almost had you! He was right here! If that newbie hadn’t sneezed!” Nyx whisper-gushed. 

“What if he comes back? Get back up there!” Came the whisper-shouted reply. 

“It’s fine! It’ll take at least five minutes to lock up the newb and get back here. We have to stretch when we can. How comfy is that box anyway?” Nyx looked at Libertus, all crammed down in that cube crate. 

“My neck is killing me, but I’m good. Now hide! If we get caught cuz of you…!” 

Twin shadows darted into the armory, and Nyx jumped into the crate with Libertus without a second thought. It didn't quite work though- Nyx was now straddling a kneeling Libertus, their legs stuck solid against the sides of the crate, arms steadying each other. Nyx felt Libertus vibrate in silent fury, and he struggled not to laugh at the entire situation. 

The shadows paused, and stepped closer to the struggling pair. As they passed an e-light, their identity was revealed.  

Tredd snapped a pic with his phone, and did his best not to make any noise while laughing his ass off. Luche wheezed into a fist, trying desperately not to collapse at the sight. They gestured wildly at each other- Nyx waving happily, Tredd curling his hands into a heart in response, Luche pointing at the space under a nearby weapons rack, Nyx giving a thumbs up, and Libertus flipping everyone off. Luche slid under the rack and Tredd hid under a coat rack packed with old cloaks behind the doorway- after helping get the lid over the now officially stuck pair of galahdians in a box. 

Crowe and Pelna could partially see and hear all of the shitshow that happened next. The fact that their screams and laughing fits escaped notice was a miracle. It was fast, maybe two minutes, but the Citadel would never forget the moment when all dignity was lost. Time slowed, yet sped up at the same time. Like a demonic Rube-Goldberg machine on crack with yakety- sax playing in the background. 

Drautos returned to the armory with a sense that others were still hiding there. He threw the door open and bounded in. The door flew wide open and hit a pile of cloaks- something supposedly soft- with a painful clonk and a groan. Something on the far side choked on a giggle, and something close by it thumped in place. Drautos grinned, and advanced into the room uncaring of the poor glaive behind the door. He listened hard, and a large crate in the middle thumped again. The captain braced himself and popped the lid. Then all hell broke loose. 

Libertus shrieked and flailed, tipping the crate over on its side with Nyx cackling wildly plastered up against him. Drautos roared in surprise, then roared in laughter as he realized two of his finest were hopelessly stuck. Tredd launched out of his hiding spot with all the grace and glory of a boosted turkey, sprinting out the door and taking the coat rack with him. Luche gave up on life and howled with laughter, clutching his ribs. And Drautos? He showed why he was captain. 

In a mad dash that would be immortalized in glaive mythos forever, Drautos hauled his crate of glaives over one shoulder, snatched Luche and slung him over the other, sprinting after the sentient panicking coat rack. The captain dropped Luche, gathered every ounce of his strength and yeeted Libertus and Nyx, screaming, at the running pile of cloth. Tredd made it to the edge of the arena before he was blasted with the box-shaped force of several hundred pounds worth of galahdian hysteria. The cloth and soft training floor absorbed the worst of the blow, the glaives landing in a tangled mess of limbs and cloaks. 

Drautos, dragging Luche by the leg, jogged over to admire his work, Luche now sobbing with helpless laughter. The captain gently plopped Luche down with the others and planted a boot on the crate, looking down at his soldiers. Nyx was in much the same state as Luche. Libertus hissed and spat like a cat, frantically trying to claw his way out of the crate. Tredd laid there like a slug, seemingly done with the world- probably examining the life choices that brought him here. Drautos stretched and loosed a puff of glitter on the pile of squirming glaives. 

“Anything to say for yourselves?” The captain growled playfully. 

They opened their mouths to reply, but were cut off by the lights flickering back on and the lockdown features sliding back into normal position. The main door clanged open- the king, flanked by his shield and the marshal strode in. Regis froze at the sight, seemingly unable to believe what his eyes were seeing. Clarus’s mouth worked silently, at the same processing error of his liege. Nobody moved until Cor Leonis coughed pointedly into his fist. Sonitus and Axis strode out uncertainly from behind a column. Pelna and Crowe staggered out from the hall, leaning on each other and still giggling wildly. 

“I take it you found my gift?” The Marshall called. The glaives inhaled deeply before breaking into a cacophony of rage, amusement, and confusion. 

“I have a name…” Drautos pulled himself up to his full height and fixed his eyes on the marshal. He tossed his cell keys to Axis. 

“Release the prisoners. No punishments. This never happened.”

[monotonous-minutia]

So I weirdly actually did a thing I said I was going to do.

Here’s a handy dandy list of Nozze productions to avoid if you, like me, love Cherubino, and believe he is a precious sunflower that needs to be protected at all costs.

After watching about 20 productions of this opera (though not all of them in full) I have compiled the following list.

Truncated because it got pretty long:

*Some of what is written here is subjective so I apologize if I end up disparaging a production you’ve seen and enjoyed. But I tried to stay objective and focus on the specific details that made the production safe or not for Cherubino.

**If you’re morbidly curious and want to know what, exactly, goes on in the first two listed here, perhaps message me first to ask before seeking them out to see for yourself, to prepare.

Salzburg 2006

Do not watch this one.

It’s weird, disturbing, and borderline sadistic. I can appreciate odd productions if they look at operas in new ways, try a different take, or magnify certain elements to bring in a fresh perspective. This production does none of that. It’s just weirdly disturbing for no apparent or forgivable reasons. I’ve spent a decent amount of time searching for answers on this one but none of the critiques I’ve found have any clue what this is supposed to be, so whatever the director was trying to say, their attempts failed miserably and left an atrocity in their wake. EVERYONE in this damn thing (except Cherubino) is a freaking asshole, the set is minimalist to the point of being irrelevant and confusing, and there’s this weird, winged Cherubino look-alike going around controlling people like puppets and making them do weird dance moves during their numbers. Obviously this director did not know how to embrace the concept that some people can just stand still while they’re talking or singing. Also, people hardly ever make eye contact and it’s unnerving, like they’re all zombies. There are a lot of other small, weird details that just keep building to make this thing a terrible production overall. The worst thing about it is poor sweet Cherubino. He’s an innocent, delicate flower that’s abused by everyone in unbearable ways. I don’t even want to go into it. I beseech you not to watch this because it’s honestly kind of traumatizing. Just pretend this one doesn’t exist and you’ll be okay. 

Redeeming factors: absolutely none. Cherubino is adorable and too pure for this world but that just makes the whole thing ten times worse because of all the terrible, terrible things that happen to him.

Dutch National Opera 2016

Proceed with caution for this one. It’s a shame because the production itself is pretty decent, and Susanna and the Contessa are great. The set is interesting—versatile, rotating, lots of doors that are utilized in interesting ways. It’s mostly portraying the somewhat-empty house that the cast is moving into it (at least that’s what I gathered). Reasons to avoid: Figaro is an asshole, the Count is downright gross, and Cherubino is treated terribly by almost everyone (except the Contessa and Susanna, bless them). The only part I like is the Act 2 scene between the three of them where they are all very sweet to each other and Cherubino is delighted to dress up and the kindness he’s shown here by the ladies makes up for some of the other things that happen. The worst stuff I won’t get into; I can’t talk about it without getting super upset. In general, Cherubino is terrorized by the Count on multiple occasions (physically threatened, punched, and thrown around), Figaro is super mean to him, and he doesn’t really get any closure at the end except that Barbarina dotes on him and he clearly loves her so we can imagine that he’ll be okay. It is a joy to watch him being super awkward, dreamy, and cheeky; I just wish he’d been given a better production.

My recommendation for this one, if you do want to watch it, is skip “Non piu andrai” and go right to Act II, although there’s one aspect that’s hard to explain without seeing that. For now let’s just say: there’s a reason Cherubino is wearing a beanie at the top of the second act, and it’s Figaro’s fault. You don’t need to know what else happens. (My rec: skip forward like ten minutes after the last recit, then seek backwards until you see Susanna sitting on a crate holding a remote which is the start of Act II. That way you don’t have to see the scene even in fast-motion.) At any rate please don’t watch that scene. I want to find the person who staged it and punch them. The rest is bearable; just be warned, it’s not fun or pretty.

Honesty hour: Figaro is mean enough too that I want Susanna and Rosina to run off together and just marry each other because their chemistry here is amazing. And take Cherubino with them and keep him safe and loved forever.

Redeeming factors: Interesting set, great leading ladies, insanely adorable Cherubino, and also it’s insinuated that the Contessa actually leaves Almaviva at the end; she even threatens him with his own hunting rifle and everyone else just watches in morbid fascination. She does put the gun down at the last second, but she doesn’t go to him after, so maybe he gets kicked out. We can only hope.

Salzburg 2015

Tbh this one’s just weird and probably not worth your time anyway. The set looks like the wall of the house was cut off so we can see all the rooms inside, upstairs and downstairs, at the same time. It’s an interesting device showing how all of the scenes interact, but it’s no utilized very well. There’s so much business in multiple rooms at one time that it’s hard to focus on the people who are talking and singing at the moment. The cast is mediocre. We get Pisaroni as the Count which should have been worthwhile but isn’t because of the weirdness of the production. It’s honestly hard to tell what or who anyone is supposed to be here. Plus there’s blatant abuse from the Count to the Contessa and it’s hard to watch especially because I’m more used to a huggable Luca and this doesn’t do him justice imo. Additionally, I typically stan gay Basilio, but here he’s got a thing for Cherubino, and Cherubino is super not into it so it just comes across as gross. Mostly Cherubino is just pushed to the sidelines (the Count literally locks him into the closet for most of the end of the first act). So it really minimizes his character in general and is disappointing to Cherubino fans.

Redeeming factors: Susanna is really cute, Figaro is nice, “Non piu andrai” is not sadistic, but this is mostly because everyone leaves the room when he starts singing it so he’s just talking to himself which is weird anyway. At least there is nothing Unspeakable although I do wish I could wipe this Basilio out of my brain. Also Margarita Gritskova as Cherubino being dapper and sweet and I’d say Pisaroni but I’m not a fan of him being the mean old Count when he should be playing those sweet Rossini baritone roles.

Salzburg 1995

Susan Graham is Cherubino and she’s super adorable, although she’s taller than almost everyone else which is awkward and amusing. However everyone is VERY mean to Cherubino. Even Susanna. He gets thrown around a lot which is just sad to watch. The production overall is kind of unremarkable and the picture/sound quality isn’t great either. Watchable but just be prepared for an annoying amount of meanness from characters who should be a lot nicer.

Redeeming factors: Susan Graham is amazing and adorable. That’s pretty much it. Someone tell me what is up with Salzburg and this opera, seriously.

Royal Opera House 2006

This Cherubino is a precious duckling who gets thrown around by everyone, especially Figaro, which is super sad. Honestly so many of these are ruining the character of Figaro for me. This one is watchable and decent except for Mean Figaro. The set is elaborate and detailed but sometimes the background action with the supers gets distracting. The rest of the cast is alright but I wish they would be nicer to Cherubino who hasn’t done one single thing to warrant the abuse. I recommend avoiding it for those reasons but it’s not as bad as some of the others.

Redeeming factors: Intricate, pretty set, Dorothea Röschmann being an adorable Contessa, and Cherubino being gawky and cute.

To balance out the depressingness here are some Nozzes that I highly recommend!

Garsington 2017

My absolute favorite, a pure delight. Though there are no big names here, the entire cast is amazing. The set is glorious, detailed without being distracting, super versatile to fit all the scenes, and the final act is actually in a garden and it’s just so PRETTY. The chemistry between Figaro and Susanna is lovely; they obviously adore each other and are a great team throughout all their plots. The Count is reasonably dislikable without being detestable, so the apology at the end is actually kind of believable (though it’s hard to pull off in general). He and the Contessa actually have an interesting dynamic so you can kind of see how they might make things work in the end (some of their arguments are more banter-y than mean and they actually make out briefly in “Susanna, or via, sortite” as if they’re kind of turned on by each other’s fury). The supporting cast is great too, full of personality and mischief. The staging is lighthearted, genuine, and intricate. THIS is what a Nozze should be! Cherubino is adorable, cheeky, super loveable, a SHAMELESS flirt, and best of all everyone loves him (except the Count obviously). Figaro is really nice to him too and “Non piu andrai” is really cute because he and Susanna are teasing him the entire time but it NEVER gets mean and it’s honestly so refreshing. Highly recommend this one!

Met 1998

Featuring my ABSOLUTE FAVORITE CHERUBINO, the incomparable Susanne Mentzer, as well as my favorite Contessa ever, Renèe Fleming. I could talk about those two forever. They are both individually fantastic and their collaboration is amazing. I died, to be honest. Also features an amazing Susanna courtesy of Cecilia Bartoli and a simply adorable Danielle de Niesse as Barbarina. Figaro is pretty mean to Cherubino especially during “Non piu andrai” (seriously what is it with directors and this number) but it’s nothing compared to so many others so it’s watchable especially because Mentzer is fantastic and she steals the entire scene without even saying anything because she’s amazing. Her Cherubino is just the sweetest, sassiest, most adorable, energetic, and expressive Cherubino ever to bless the operatic stage. She’s exactly what Cherubino should be in every way and the production fully supports it. Watching the entire Cherubino-Susanna-Contessa scene in Act 2 is one of my favorite things in the world. The production itself is classic, detailed and true to the period, busy without being distracting, and the rest of the cast is good too.

Liege 2018

A very cute production featuring a super sweet Figaro who teases Cherubino but is not mean to him. Cherubino is sassy and endearing and very much the flirt with every lady in sight, and is pretty popular among them. The rest of the cast is good too and we get a particularly sassy Susanna (whose chemistry with the Contessa is lovely). The set is simple but very pretty. Another lighthearted, sweet, and genuine portrayal that stays true to the heart of this opera.

Glyndebourne 1973

A classic; lots of familiar names, lush period set/costumes, and staging that’s simple but effective. Featuring the insanely adorable Frederica von Stade as Cherubino. Her smile melts my heart every time. A mostly nice Figaro and great leading ladies.

Obviously there are way more productions out there, and I’ve watched more than this, but these are the ones that to me are most noteworthy from one end of the scale or the other.

This list may get longer as I watch more, but I think I’m going to take a break from Nozze for a little bit (or more likely just re-watch the Garsington one and Mentzer’s Cherubino over and over again).

[brinytrolls]

heyy!! i really like your work and think you're SUPER MEGA cool, and hope you get REALLY good at animating!! drawing is the first step, so making it move is the next haha. (once i save enough for a tablet i'll practice a lot!!) but i have a question: how do you improve as an artist? do you actively seek out critique or does it come with time and sub-conscious decisions to not do the bad thing anymore? what did you do? love you, keep fredding on!! ----some stupid idiot who wants to be anonymous

thank u anon this is super sweet!!! it means a lot<3 

also ive been an animation student for 5 years now so i know a little bit but probably, less than i should.....i do Not practise enough

as for tips! let me try and compile a short list of things that help me! 

• u hear it all the time but its true-practise practise practise!!! sketchbooks, digital, whatever strikes ur fancy. practising is the MOST important thing u can do 

• understand and research the basics. you dont need to be an expert on anything, god knows im not, but its good to know a bit! this includes but isnt limited to: 

colour theory! why colours go together, what colour schemes look good, etc. heres some basics on it! personally

[i also find symbolism of colour just as important. obviously symbolism varies from person to person and culture! but heres a quick guide on the usual symbolism of colour. if something sounds wrong to you though, mess with it yourself!] 

tthe form of subjects-this means drawing basic shapes, and using them to construct [basically] anything! the idea is its much easier to draw and move around a series of cubes and cylinders, than a whole human body. heres a guide on how form works. 

draw a box is a challenge recommended to me by my lecturer for improving on drawing shapes and forms! i highly recommend it!

value and lighting are important! heres an explanation on value. im not sure much can be done to cheat lighting and value, except for master studies (we’ll get to that shortly!) and observation. 

the most useful tip on value ive learned, is to turn your art black and white, and see if it all has enough contrast without colour. if not, time to work on the values! 

composition, babey. how subjects are arranged in a piece. heres a bunch of stuff on it [im still learning this one...rule of thirds i will Die for tho]

anatomy! this is the hardest shit. i still dont get it. my lecturers recommend andy loomis [heres a pdf of his figure drawing book] idt his way was quite up my alley, but u never know! 

• speaking of anatomy-life drawing is an INCREDIBLY useful reference. so goddamn useful, u dont even know. they help u figure out anatomy! this includes gesture studies, and more detailed things. i recommend googling how a typical life drawing class goes down/tips for it

life drawing classes are very difficult to access atm, so here are a couple of online resources! [all of these will obv contain nude bodies]

croquis cafe-contains free videos that simulate a life drawing class! videos are more useful than images. has a variety of ethnicities and body types, which is wonderful!

line of action- a site with a variety of images on figure drawing, animal drawing, as well as hands & feet, expression/face focus, and environmental things. you can set it to play as a slideshow for as long as u like, or set it up to be similar in timing to a real life drawing class

online stock photo artists such as senshistock, who has compiled a useful little list of similar accounts over here!

•  reference reference reference!! references are so incredibly useful, and anyone who tells you using a reference is cheating is wrong on every conceivable level. reference from photos, from movies, from videos, everything. 

something ive had to do in every level of art education is recreations and master studies. 

this means collecting artists work from professionals-be it historic painters, movie screenshots, concept artists, anything! 

it makes you focus on their compositions, how the lighting works, the colours used, pretty much everything. 

this is useful bc it can 1: get you out of your comfort zone and 2: make you use new techniques you might never have considered 

online tools such as designdoll and justsketchme have poseable models for you to pose as you please and reference from! suuuuper useful, especially for perspective poses.

• experimentation! fuck around. use brushes youve never used before, try a new medium, collect every free sample from the craft store and just Do Shit with it. 

•  absorb every goddamn piece of art u have ever come across, and save what you enjoy. 

and i mean save everything you enjoy. u like a movies lighting? a certain shot? an outfit? a random piece of fanart u came across? save it! look at it, figure out what it is u like 

make a private pinterest board or a folder on ur computer, save everything.

absorb and yank bits from art u enjoy. obviously dont imitate someones entire style, but if u like the way someone draws hands, or noses, or eyes, reference it. recreate it. see what u like, and incorporate it into ur own art

art is a big mess of taking things u like and making it ur own 

•  study professionals! animations, artists, illustrators. they know what they’re doing. 

heres a useful resource with a lot of rare concept art from animated movies! i go here a lot.

buy art books, or acquire pdfs of them, im not a cop, i dont care 

• as for critique, i do look for critique, and pay attention to it, but it’s important to know not to take it personally. and i recommend asking people whos opinions you value! 

i think thats all i can think of right now in terms of General Art....

if u want me to elaborate on anything or show me art, ask for help or just talk art stuff [character design is my fav and my speciality, ive been studying it for a while 👀] please dont be afraid to dm me or just send me another ask! 

best of luck anon, i rly hope this helps! :D

[the-desolated-quill]

Joker - Quill’s Quickies (No Spoilers)

Joker is proving to be an extremely divisive film. Some think it’s the best thing since The Dark Knight. Proof that comic book movies can be art too. Others think it’s pretentious Oscar bait with nothing interesting to say.

And that’s not to mention the controversy surrounding the film as people wonder whether this will incite violence in white men (which I’m not going to touch with a barge pole, at least not here. I’ll do a separate Scribble for that sheer nonsense at some point). Needless to say everyone and their mums have an opinion on Joker... so I guess one more, won’t hurt.

Whether you like Joker or not I think depends on your tolerance for a) films that deliberately set out to make you feel uncomfortable and b) films that ask you to feel pity for the devil. (and I want you to remember that word ‘pity.’ It’ll be important later on). Personally, I loved Joker. I think it’s one of the most unique and groundbreaking comic book films I’ve ever seen. If you don’t like it, that’s fine. I can actually understand why to a certain extent. However don’t try to spin this as some ideological thing because that’s just disingenuous and stupid.

Lets start with the obvious. Joaquin Phoenix. Give this guy a fucking Oscar, for the love of God! His performance was truly mesmerising, particularly when he does finally don the full clown makeup. He is the Joker. The mannerisms, the attitude, the nihilism, it all just works. There’s even a monologue near the end of the film that could have been lifted straight out of the comics. This is a film that not only depicts the Joker perfectly, but also completely understands the character too.

The rest of the cast is exceptional too. Robert de Niro plays a chat show host who Joker looks up to and he does a good job. Deadpool 2′s Zazie Beetz plays a small but pivotal role as Sophie, Joker’s next door neighbour and ‘love interest’ and she’s excellent too despite having quite a small amount of screen time. Frances Conroy plays Joker’s mum Penny. Again a relatively small role, but a crucial one and she gives a memorable performance. Finally there’s Brett Cullen as a very different interpretation of Bruce Wayne’s father Thomas Wayne, which I think works extremely well in the context of this film and creates exciting possibilities for this world’s version of Batman, which we’ll probably never get to see because this is intended as a one off. Not that I’m complaining. I wouldn’t want them to do a sequel. This works perfectly as a standalone piece.

As I said, the supporting cast actually play a minor role overall as the film follows Arthur Fleck exclusively. The man who would be Joker. It’s a bit hard to talk about why I think this film works without giving away spoilers, so I’ll focus on how it made me feel.

Joker is an extremely tense movie. Todd Phillips’ stellar direction puts you in the mindset of the character and Hildur Guonadottir’s incredible music really elevates the film’s more disturbing moments. In fact (and I suppose you could call this a trigger warning), I did actually suffer from an anxiety attack halfway through the film because you’re constantly on a knife edge. As Arthur’s life falls apart, we see him become more violent and erratic to the point where he becomes legitimately frightening. Fear is of course subjective. I’m sure most of you have more of a spine than I do. But if you do suffer from any kind of anxiety, I would recommend psyching yourself up before you watch this and maybe have a friend or relative on hand to comfort you if it starts to get a bit much.

Seriously, I’m not kidding. Joker is an extremely uncomfortable experience and it’s unrelenting in how grim and unsettling it is. It’s R rated, but it’s not necessarily gory. It’s not as violent as, say, Deadpool, but its more bloody moments often come rather suddenly and with a lot of tense buildup beforehand. While it does bear similarities to movies like Taxi Driver and The King Of Comedy, those films have the audience on the outside looking in. Joker on the other hand takes the audience and locks them inside the Clown Prince of Crime’s mind for two hours straight, and quelle surprise, it turns out the inside of Joker’s mind is fucking horrible. Viewer beware.

Okay, okay. I guess I can’t avoid it altogether. Do I think this film is dangerous? No. Do I think it insults those with mental health issues? No, in fact quite the opposite. I found the film to be quite sympathetic towards the mentally ill, presenting Arthur as being a dark outlier, not the norm. Do I think the film is making some sort of political statement. Again no. I honestly don’t think it’s saying anything about white people or toxic masculinity or gun violence or anything like that. In fact, if it is saying anything at all, it condemns those who seek to hijack a public figure for their own political agenda (which ironically is exactly what the press are doing with this very movie, but of course critics and journalists can’t see that because they have no self awareness what so bloody ever). The film is what it is. An extremely dark character study of arguably the most famous villain of all time.

Some have criticised the film as being too predictable, which I personally don’t think is a particularly valid critique. Like, yeah, of course it’s predictable. We all know what’s going to happen in the end. The fucking title kind of gives it away. It’s execution that counts, and Phillips and co have done a fantastic job in my opinion. As for those who complained that this film is cynical and nasty and made them feel numb afterwards... I mean... I honestly don’t know what you were expecting. Of course you’re feeling numb. That’s what the film wants you to feel. It’s cynical and nasty because the central character is cynical and nasty. That’s like criticising a comedy for being funny.

Honestly, if I had any complaints, it’s that I think they do paint the story with broad strokes, leaving very little room for subtlety. But having said that, this is based on a comic book about a billionaire who fights psychotic costumed criminals at night whist dressed as a bat. I don’t think subtlety has much of a place here.

Finally I just want to briefly touch on the concern that this film might make the character too sympathetic. First of all, that’s not necessarily a bad thing. Some villains can actually become scarier when we as an audience can empathise with them and understand their motives (see Killmonger in Black Panther). Second, and most importantly, Arthur Fleck/Joker is not a sympathetic character. Yes I did feel pity for him at times, but that’s not the same thing as sympathy. Like I said, this film completely understands the Joker. There are occasions where you do feel sad for the character and wish he could have got the right help, but most of the time (and the film emphasises this throughout) he’s presented as being a deeply disturbed and maladjusted individual and at no point is his behaviour ever justified. Instead it’s presented as being almost inevitable. That in a city as terrible as Gotham, what else could Arthur have become? Joker is a tragic character, but he’s not in anyway likeable.

I would definitely recommend you go and see this movie, especially if, like me, you’ve gotten sick of the slew of formulaic comic book movies and convoluted shared universes. If Joker is indeed going to be the first of an anthology series focusing on telling low budget, character driven, standalone, experimental films, then it’s a very strong start. Whether you liked Joker or not, the fact of the matter is the success of this movie can only mean good things for Warner Bros, DC, the comic book movie genre and the industry going forward, so please go and see this film.

[battlestar-royco]

updated faq

Round 2! I tried to shorten the answers so as not to be repetitive, and I also added new FAQs for your convenience. My past self who wrote my first FAQ annoys me, and this one is more thorough anyway, so here you go. I still can’t believe you all actually interact with me enough that I have to make one of these.

Questions up here, answers under the cut.

anti sjm basics

1. why are you an anti?

2. why are you specifically anti SJM?

3. do you like anything about SJM’s books?

4. terminology and practices

5. why do you hold SJM to a higher standard than other authors?/why do you focus on criticizing this one woman more harshly than you do men?

6. did you see what xyz stan did?

7. are you an anti for non-SJM stuff?

best of (in my humble opinion)

diversity and sensitivity

8. I have a question about writing and/or how to portray xyz identity...

9. can you please tag...?

10. is it okay if I like [x author]/[y series] even if I know they’re problematic?

11. what are your suggestions for aspiring authors who want to write diversely?

personal

12. is it okay if I message you?

13. why don’t you post about books/shows/movies you actually like?

14. favorites?

15. book suggestions?

16. are you a writer/what are you writing/do you plan on publishing?

17. is it okay if I follow you on other social media?

18. fandom research

19. when did you start your blog?

20. how did you decide your url?

anti SJM basics

1. why are you an anti?

I love thinking critically about the media I consume. Though I wouldn’t say I’m particularly “anti” any text or author, some people classify any criticism as “anti.” To respect people in the main tags, I post in anti tags so they don’t have to see critical posts. Otherwise, I love talking about positive, neutral, and negative aspects of books.

2. why are you specifically anti SJM?

The Anti SJM Manifesto

What made you turn into an anti? x x

Rowan/Rowaelin: x x x

The fandom: x x x x x x

3. do you like anything about SJM’s books?

Yes. I like a lot of SJM’s ideas, but I don’t like how they’re executed at all. I highly enjoyed TAB, TOG-HOF, and the witch storyline of QOS. My favorite TOG characters are Manon, Chaol, Nehemia, and Sorscha. Honorable mention for Lysandra, Kaltain, and Asterin. My favorite ACOTAR characters are Nesta, Lucien, and Tarquin. Additional links: x x x x

If you want my positive thoughts on certain SJM characters, look up: “anti sjm: [character name]” and you’ll find them.

4. terminology and practices:

Anti SJM Glossary. Seeing as many of us have had bad experiences with stans and in one case, authors, we censor names so our posts stay in our own tags.

What is soap dick? From August 2018 x x.

Manongate? when KOA came out, Charlie Bowater’s promotional art (x) depicted Manon as Asian. Here’s more on why that’s a problematic and lazy decision on SJM and Bloomsbury’s part: x x.

5. why do you hold SJM to a higher standard than other authors?/why do you focus on criticizing this one woman more harshly than you do men?

SJM alone out of all the biggest YA authors has yet to make craft improvements or display a social awareness similar to what I’ve seen from her colleagues. I give all authors an equal chance, but SJM’s writing and behavior has significantly decreased in quality compared to other fantasy authors despite her books being lauded as complex and feminist works. However, I’m not perfect, so do feel welcome to send me an ask if you think I’m being unfair.

The anti SJM community is focused on women because we all mainly read women. Critiquing women doesn’t mean we are unaware, dismissive of, or silent about the issues in men’s work. The “anti” movements for the likes of GRRM do exist, but under a different name than “anti”–there are thousands of critical meta blogs, book/TV critics and reviewers, Youtubers, etc out there who discuss his flaws in depth. I also have lengthy anti GRRM, anti GOT, and anti ASOIAF tags. Finally, I personally find critiquing and discussing women’s work a lot more interesting, productive, and empowering than doing the same for men, especially because my blog’s focus is on the YA author/transformative fan community at large.

About Leigh Bardugo: x x x x x x x

About GRRM (and GOT): x x x x x x x

About Tolkien: I've only read The Hobbit and a third of Fellowship of the Ring, and I’ve only watched FotR, so I don’t say much about him at all.

6. did you see what xyz stan did?

Probably not, especially if what they did was off Tumblr. I don’t look at stan accounts unless someone informs me that my posts or I have come up in conversation on their blog. Any specific stan urls in asks will be redacted both for their privacy and my own well-being. Stans have doxxed, harassed, and discriminated against antis, including myself, so I’d rather save us all the trouble.

7. are you an anti for non-SJM stuff?

I most often talk about SJM’s books, but I’ve also been very critical of GOT/ASOIAF. Following GRRM, several other YA authors have appeared in positive, neutral, and critical lights. On the more critical side we have Cassandra Clare and JK Rowling, and a very little bit about Victoria Aveyard, John Green, Maggie Stiefvater, Stephenie Meyer, and Veronica Roth. Otherwise, I’ve talked about Susan Dennard, Rick Riordan, Leigh Bardugo, and Marie Rutkoski. Check out my YA critical tag for more. I’m also down to discuss franchises like Star Wars, Fantastic Beasts, MCU, etc, as well as TV shows. Basically anything big in genre fiction media, there’s a good chance I’ve read/watched it and I have opinions!

best of

anti SJM

Are the Illyrians MOC?

Moral Ambiguity Series

Anti Nessian

Lucien or Rhysand?

Chaol or Rowan?

misc.

why are period dramas like... that

White Feminism

a beginner’s guide to fandom racism

diversity and sensitivity

8. I have a question about writing and/or how to portray xyz identity...

First and foremost, check my “writing advice” and “writing advice: poc” tags to see if the question has already been answered.

I am black cis girl with a dual degree in women’s/gender studies and creative writing. I will best be able to answer questions regarding black characters, women, racial oppression and identity as a whole, and most questions about queer characters. There’s a chance I can provide a basic answer to questions about demographics outside of these, but I’ll most likely advise you to ask another blogger or seek out sensitivity readers.

9. can you please tag...?

Yes. Just send an ask and I’ll tag anything. I’ve turned off all Tumblr notifications for this account so I probably won’t see tag requests in comments unless you comment within a day or so of the post.

10. is it okay if I like [x author]/[y series] even if I know they’re problematic?

Absolutely. I’m not the liking-things police and I can’t control whether you like something or not. There’s no such thing as an unproblematic author or unproblematic series, so you just have to like what you like at your own discretion and with a critical eye. As long as you’re aware of the issues and not denying or ignoring them, maybe even seeking out other people whose opinions add to the conversation, you’re good. It’s exhausting to be 100% critical but harmful to be 100% uncritical, so you have to seek out critics you like and figure out how to maintain a dialogue with the text and/or the author. The balance is different for everyone but once you find it, it gets easier to keep up!

11. what are your suggestions for aspiring authors who want to write diversely?

Concepts to be aware of and tropes to avoid: male gaze, the Bechdel test, the Mako Mori test, the sexy lamp test, fridging, Orientalism, xenoface (called “the Gamora Phenomenon” on my blog), black best friend, Spicy Latina, Dragon Lady, bury your gays, disability narratives, queerbaiting.

What not to do when creating a culture.

My advice about writing POC.

Check out these blogs if you like: x x x.

Follow as diversely as possible. Follow multiple blogs, especially writing- or fandom-themed blogs, run by POC (especially women and LGBTQ+), bloggers from religiously marginalized groups, bloggers with disabilities, older bloggers, younger bloggers, international bloggers, plus size bloggers, etc. Everyone has different perspectives and opinions, so it’s best to read from multiple sources.

Magnify marginalized voices in conversations about diversity, and LISTEN to what they are telling you.

Read diversely! Read genre fiction written by marginalized people. Maybe even read some gender, queer, race, or disability theory if you like. I’m personally a fan of Audre Lorde, Anne McClintock, and Sara Ahmed, but I like a lot more.

Seek out multiple sensitivity readers for the specific identity you are trying to represent (ie if you are trying to write a Muslim woman, ask a Muslim woman to sensitivity read for you. Experiences are not interchangeable so don’t treat them as such).

Don’t let the research stop here. This is just the beginning. There are plenty of awesome and accessible resources out there if you want to know more. I started learning about this stuff on sites like Tumblr, Goodreads, and Youtube. The Goodreads review sections, especially for YA books, are so entertaining and full of commentators coming at texts with feminist, queer, and POC lenses if you look in the right spots. There are also podcasts and Youtube videos about feminism, history of queerbaiting, and such. Happy reading/listening/writing!

personal

12. is it okay if I message you?

If we’ve been mutuals and/or we’ve interacted for a while (at least a few weeks or so), absolutely. When it comes to questions about writing or diversity advice in WIPs, I prefer asks (off or on anon is fine; if you’d like to be off anon but answered privately, you can indicate that in the ask). That way, other people with similar questions can join the discussion and I’m less likely to repeat myself. That said, I’m not opposed to messages; I just get shy around people I don’t know :). Regardless of ask or message, please try to ask the full question as clearly as possible so I can answer it to my best ability. Generally, you can expect an answer to your message or ask within a few days to a week of sending.

If you’re looking for a fight and/or if you start using condescending, rude, or discriminatory language, you will be ignored.

13. why don’t you post about books/shows/movies you actually like?

I do! :)

14. favorites?

books: Harry Potter; The Hunger Games; Six of Crows; Percy Jackson; The Winner’s Trilogy; Angelfall; The Secret History; Othello; Jane Eyre; The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe/The Magician’s Nephew; A Storm of Swords.

movies: Alien, Blade Runner 2049, Harry Potter, Wonder Woman, Black Panther, Annihilation, Mad Max: Fury Road, The Terminator 2, The Breakfast Club, The Lion King, Moonlight dir. Barry Jenkins, Sleeping Beauty, Mulan, Tangled.

tv series: Sense8, Battlestar Galactica (2004-2008), Black Mirror, The X Files, The 100, Westworld (season 1 only), Watchmen, Homeland (seasons 1-4 only), Orphan Black, Breaking Bad, The Office, Brooklyn Nine-Nine, New Girl, Fleabag.

15. book suggestions?

Book recs!

Maxine, did you read/watch...?

16. are you a writer/what are you writing/do you plan on publishing?

I hope to publish, yes! I write mostly YA fantasy, but I also love sci fi, crime drama, and certain elements of horror so I have works in or influenced by all of those genres. I want to get my foot in the YA fantasy door first and foremost :). Check out “polysorscha writes things” if you want to know more specifics.

17. is it okay if I follow you on other social media?

As of now I keep my blog disconnected from my personal life, so I don’t share my other socials but feel free to follow me over on my main blog @ripley-stark if you like! It’s just pretty gifs and photos of my favorite movies and shows, social justice, meta reblogs here and there, and rambling in the tags. Don’t feel like you have to follow if you don’t want to; I say a lot more on here.

That being said, I have given my Goodreads to a handful of people who ask, so if you want to track what I’m reading, private message me and I’ll send you the link. In the case that I share the link with you, please respect my privacy and do not repost or share the link anywhere else unless you see me share it on my blog publicly.

18. fandom research:

In March to May 2019, I conducted a survey on my blog in an attempt to gather information about fandom through a social justice–specifically, intersectional feminist–lens. Here are the results and my analysis of the survey x. The purpose for this data collection was to write my final undergraduate research paper in one of my two majors, women’s and gender studies (the other is creative writing!), which focused on diversity and inclusion in genre fiction media and fandom. The final paper is about 11k words. I haven’t publicly published it, but message me if you’re interested in reading it! I also plan on doing more similar surveys to gather information about what audiences want to see in future media, so if anyone is interested, please send messages, asks, comments etc about what YOU want to see and/or ideas about how we can spread the info to creators. This is much bigger than just me and I can’t do it without your help. I love hearing from diverse voices and amplifying them as much as I can. Everyone’s perspective is meaningful!

19. when did you start your blog?

No earlier than the end of April or beginning of May 2018.

20. how did you decide your url?

I wish the Celaena/Dorian/Chaol love triangle resolved in a polyamorous relationship, and that Nehemia and Sorscha were thriving. Seeing as I am black, Sorscha is one of two characters in T0G who represents me. Thus, polyamorous + Sorscha. :)

[jedirisen-a]

[ Oᴜᴛɢᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʀᴀɴsᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ] ---> Pʟᴏᴛᴛᴇᴅ sᴛᴀʀᴛᴇʀ ғᴏʀ @kyloxsoloxren​​

The fleet--- order them to stop firing! There’s still time to save the fleet! She’d been so confident that Ben Solo would fulfill the request considering they had just slain the man who had abused and manipulated him throughout his lifetime. It was his time; Ben Solo was free to be himself again. He was free to help the resistance and finally destroy everything that had ever hurt him, but-- Join me, Rey. Please. He had made his choice. He remained with the First Order and she left to seek out the remainder of the Resistance. They had met again on Crait through their connection in the force, and despite his pleading eyes, she left him behind. She felt betrayed by him and the very sight of him made her heart ache. 

Most of the time she’s spent on Ajan Kloss has consisted of her training day in and day out. She’s forced to miss out on the missions and made to read the old jedi texts she had taken from Ahch To. They’d been beneficial in a way-- she’d been working on a new saber for herself and learning how to meditate so she could attempt to speak to the Jedi in the beyond. She hasn’t had a successful attempt yet, but she continues to try in the hopes that the Jedi will guide her through this never ending journey. Forced to skip another mission with Poe and Chewbacca, Rey remains on Ajan Kloss while she prepares for another test run through the obstacle course her master had set up for her to test her abilities. Her master is unable to attend this particular test run, but she has her loyal droid buddy by her side to record her every movement so that she can review the footage later on with her Master to correct various critiques. “Okay, BB-8. Are you ready?” The droid beeps and whirs in response to let her know he’s ready to record her run, and with the count to three she’s off. Rey sprints through the jungle and hops over any obstacles in her way; branches, rocks, uneven terrain and the likes. She pauses once she reaches a certain point in the obstacle course and blinds herself with a piece of cloth, carefully approaching a tree trunk suspended in the air by a gap in the surface of the terrain. She draws her saber and ignites it as she steps onto a tree trunk, taking a few steps backwards as she tries her hardest to focus on the combat remote moving about the area. She effortlessly blocks each of its blasts with her saber as she continues to step backwards. Everything had been going according to plan until the remote blasts her arm and she’s forced to pull her blindfold down as she hisses out in pain. She feels an energy present that she’s all too familiar with– one she hasn’t felt so strongly since her time on Crait. “Ben.” She whispers to herself as she lays eyes on the remote that blasts her again, narrowing them. Rey growls out of frustration and  leaps towards the combat remote, attempting to strike it down once again. Her efforts prove to be unsuccessful and she’s forced to chase it through the jungle, snarling as she finally strikes it down with her saber.  I left you behind on Crait. What business do you have being in my head? 

[driftingglass]

Your writing is absolutely stunning and I can't help but be amazed by it. I have read all your fic's and I love all of them. I love writing but I believe mine is average and I really want to improve. How can you write so beautifully? How long did it take you to write in such way? ( practicing I mean) 😊❤

First of all, thank you for taking the time to leave this comment in my inbox, and for providing such a thoughtful question to mull over. This is important for any writer to address, and I’m honored you’re seeking advice from a writer like me. I’m always insecure about my skills as a writer and learning how to continuously develop is difficult for anyone, no matter how experienced and well-rehearsed.

There are a few simple rules that I’ll share with you that I practice myself, and other personal beliefs that keep the process moving. 

I don’t have a specific timeline set out because I can’t remember a time where I didn’t write. I was horrible at it, understandably, at first, like most everyone. Still sinking into this new “skin,” so to speak, that I understood was the eventual layer of writing I wanted to reach and hold onto.

Unfortunately, I can’t provide a “step by step” process to achieve a certain kind of style. That, ultimately, is up to you. But we’ll get more into that later.

For one thing, it’s essential to know how much you love writing. 

And clearly, you seem to care quite a lot about it, hence that you love it but you believe it’s “average” and you want to improve. I’m not going to say that average writers don’t exist, because they do. People who tell you that every writer is “good in their own way” are wrong. 

Not every writer is good. Of course, this can be subjective to a point, but the fact remains that there are degrees of separation. And there is, at least in my experience and journey, a main difference between great writers, average writers, and, yes, terrible writers. 

I want to make it clear that I don’t consider myself to be a great writer by any means. Like every creative, we’re always pushing ourselves to be better and hone our craft, and this is no different for me. It’s an endless scope of a process that requires discipline and evolution, and both your own critical eye and that of another. 

One of the most important aspects of being a writer is understanding the amount of time and commitment you will need to carve out for your craft. “Good” and “average” writers only write and read every other day. Terrible writers don’t put in the time at all. 

But you don’t want to be good or average, do you? I doubt you even want to consider yourself “great” at one point. You want to be solid, and the best you can be. Maybe even the best. 

And what I want to share with you is what separates the average from the best.

In order to become that level, or at least improve, you must make the time to read and write every single day. It could be as little as 250 words or as many as 10,000 when it comes to writing. And reading? Well, reading is accomplished no matter what, but reading essays, articles, nonfiction, fiction, it all counts towards something.

It’s important to take the time to both consume from other influences, genres, sentence structures, ideas, plot developmental strategies, etc. just by reading other works. Invest in your favorite genre of fiction or whatever you’re interested in practicing yourself, and watch as even your subconscious works to help you grow. 

My average wordcount per day is 4,000 to 5,000 words. I also tend to overwrite quite a bit, and cut away the unnecessary fat later. My heaviest wordcount taken in one day caps off at 11,000 words. 

I get up early in the morning, go to the gym or run outside to get the blood flowing, write for a solid hour, then leave for work that same morning. It requires a lot of discipline and no, it’s not easy, but it’s worth it. And after work I write as well until I reach my goal for that day. 

Although I might also be a wee bit insane. So take that into account when asking for advice from someone who cares way more about writing than pretty much anything else, save for… coffee, some animals, and a handful of friends.

Regardless, this is something every great writer does. They make the time.

Start small, and grow from there. See how many words you can accomplish in one busy day. Create a routine for yourself. Let the ideas flow and grow into something that even surprises you. 

There are countless writing prompts, exercises and more to draw influence from. With my own ideas I just think of them on the spot, but in college I tended to look for prompts for short story concepts that didn’t require more than one ginormous chapter to set up a plot.

I’m hesitant to give advice about critiquing because I’m ware of how much this is a problem for me personally. I’m very harsh about my writing and can be obsessive about the turnout, leading to an ironic series of burnouts and even stalling. 

However, I can say that being critical, while sometimes dismissed by friends and colleagues, is absolutely necessary for you to improve. If you notice something off about your sentence structure, or if you realize that a character you’ve created definitely would not say “that line,” then feel free to erase it.

One of the best things about writing is that you are in control of your own imagination, and what you put down.

Just remember that it’s normal to feel burned out. 

Writing, like any passion, takes a lot of practice, time and commitment to make into something grand and beautiful. Your style will grow into itself and you’ll find a reflection of you in what you create. I never planned to have a certain style. 

The moment you try to replicate every other writer instead of accepting the type of writer you are meant to be, is one of many mistakes a first-time writer makes. Take it from someone who struggled with this for years before finding the courage to understand that writing is a process. 

Writing is rewriting. Remember this too.

It’s easy to forget how not everything you craft will be perfect. Writing is always imperfect. Even the best writers are far from perfect. Because perfection is, well, impossible to achieve. 

All that you can control is how hard you work at it, what you choose to focus on to improve your craft, and how you choose to approach your inevitable mistakes. 

The fear of failure is one of the biggest reasons great minds stop before they go through with what they want to accomplish. Sometimes it’s truly the only difference separating a published work from an unpublished work. 

Believe me, these upcoming aspects will tie together. I don’t intend to leave you hanging.

J.K. Rowling was rejected twelve times for Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone (and probably even more). Pierce Brown faced rejection from over 120 agents before he was able to sell Red Rising. Stephen King, Neil Gaiman, J.R.R. Tolkien, William Golding, F. Scott Fitzgerald, Rudyard Kipling–and so many more, have all faced rejection.

But rejection is inevitable for anyone who dreams. In fact, let’s move away from just writers for a moment. Would you believe that Walt Disney himself was turned down from his plans of financing the Walt Disney Company over 300 times? 

Success never falls into laps. Real success is made by actions taken. The choice to take those steps and keep moving forward, and never giving up, is one of the most important things about being a writer (and person). 

If you remain in a comfort zone, you will forever be stagnant. Growth only comes to those who challenge themselves and push forward. If you struggle with adapting character, research and figure out ways to make them more personal. Do you struggle with dialogue? Read your phrases allowed, study the character more, and test out different clauses and details.

There are countless ways to approach improving writing. It takes a myriad of steps, and it all comes down to the all-around focus you want to have. 

You know you want to improve. You know that you love writing. And for some, that’s enough of a reason to throw yourself into it and see what happens.

As one last thing to close this off (I could go on and on about this for days), please remember that your style is unique to you. It is a part of who you are, not anyone else. Everyone has writing influences (dozens, even) but their style is meant to be that. An influence. Not a replication. 

It’s a difficult journey and extremely stressful and heartbreaking at times, but it’s so, so rewarding.  

Writing, while something that’s incredibly wonderful to share with the world, is ultimately about you. You should write for you, so write what you want to write, reshape it accordingly, and keep at it until you reach your goal… and then keep going. 

I wish you the best with your endeavors, Anon. Thank you. 

[cutsliceddiced]

New top story from Time: I Let My Child Create Their Own Gender Identity. The Experience Has Been a Gift for Us Both

“What are you having?” I’d be standing in line at the post office or a movie theater, and I’d realize a stranger was staring at my belly. The kind person thought they were asking me a simple question with a simple answer: Is it a boy or a girl?

If you want to get technical, my partner Brent and I had found out our child’s sex chromosomes in the early stages of my pregnancy, and we had seen their genitals during the anatomy scan. But we didn’t think that information told us anything about our kid’s gender. The only things we really knew about our baby is that they were human, breech and going to be named Zoomer. We weren’t going to assign a gender or disclose their reproductive anatomy to people who didn’t need to know, and we were going to use the gender-neutral personal pronouns they, them and their. We imagined it could be years before our child would tell us, in their own way, if they were a boy, a girl, nonbinary or if another gender identity fit them best. Until then, we were committed to raising our child without the expectations or restrictions of the gender binary.

I have a gender-studies degree and a Ph.D. in sociology. In the decade before Zoomer was born, it was literally my job to study and educate others about gender. There was no shortage of gender-disparity statistics, but I felt confident that progress toward gender equity was gaining momentum. In my Sociology of Gender and Sexuality course, I would lecture on discrimination against queer people, the motherhood penalty, men’s higher suicide rate, violence against transgender women of color, and the way intersex people–those born with biological traits that aren’t typically male or female–are stigmatized or completely overlooked. But I also taught about the victory of same-sex marriage equality, more women running for office, fathers demanding family leave, the rising visibility of transgender actors in the media, and the movement to end intersex surgery.

With every new semester, the number of students asking me to call them by different names and use different pronouns than they were given at birth grew. Women confided that they were experiencing sexism from their chemistry professors. Men vented about the pressures of masculinity. These 18- to 20-something-year-olds were feeling crushed by gender stereotypes. I could relate. I was raised as a girl in the Mormon church, and it took a long time for me to untangle myself from the conditioning that the only things I should want (and could be good at) were marriage and motherhood.

I could see the trail of bread crumbs. How gender inequalities get their start in childhood. How girls do more chores than boys and are paid less allowance. How kids are dressed in shirts that say “sorry boys, Daddy says i can’t date until I’m 30,” yet when a child says they’re gay, they’re told they’re too young to know that. How girls are discouraged from running for student government. How boys are discouraged from playing with dolls. How queer and trans youth are kicked out of their homes. People have asked me to prove that gender-creative parenting will have positive outcomes. I double-dog dare someone to prove that hypergendered childhood is a roaring success.

Kids fare better in environments where they are accepted for who they are. The negative outcomes that are often experienced by queer and trans youth are mitigated by supportive families and friends. Parents take precautions to keep their children healthy and safe by enrolling them in swim lessons, teaching them to stay away from fire and cutting food into tiny pieces. Holding space for the possibility a child might be trans or nonbinary or queer is also preventative care.

The goal of gender-creative parenting is not to eliminate gender—the goal is to eliminate gender-based oppression, disparities and violence. The aim isn’t to create a genderless world; it’s to contribute to a genderfull one. We as a society have an opportunity to shake up childhood gender socialization in a way that creates more healthy and equitable adulthoods for everyone. What have we got to lose? The patriarchy? Good riddance.

The summer before I was pregnant, I noticed a young sprints track meet banner fastened to the chain-link fence of the local high school. I can’t wait till I have a little one who can run in that! I thought.

Three years later, I left that track meet in tears after I found out that despite assurances to the contrary, the 2- and 3-year-old girls would run in different heats than the boys. “I not running?” Zoomer asked as we drove away. I felt terrible for leaving. Zoomer just wanted to run. But I also would have felt terrible if I had stayed. It is these moments that plant the seeds that boys and girls are dramatically different, and in the case of track and field, that boys are better. I refused to have our family participate.

The experience was disappointing, if not unexpected. When I was pregnant, I would dream up hypothetical situations with cruel pediatricians refusing to use they/them pronouns and flight attendants treating Zoomer like a stereotype and anxiously think through how I would react to these circumstances. I was afraid that my family members might be so nervous about accidentally using a gendered pronoun for Zoomer, so nervous about offending me, that they would distance themselves from us.

But for the most part, the past four years have not been filled with tears and strife (at least no more tears than you’d find in any home of a young child and tired parents). Our life looks remarkably like a lot of other families’ lives, filled with joy and affirmation. And color. Lots of color.

Courtesy Kyl Myers (4)Top left: February 2016; Top right: June 2018; Bottom left: Father’s Day 2017; Bottom right: March 2016

When people think of gender-neutral, their minds often go to a grayish beige, potato-hued color palette. But we don’t dress Zoomer in burlap sacks, or only give them toys the color of Wheat Thins. We give them options, and they thoughtfully pick what they like the most. For a while, Zoomer’s favorite color was pink; then it was orange. They picked the pink, purple and aqua bedsheets; the fire-truck socks; the outer-space sleeping bag; and the violet climbing shoes. They wanted the Cars Pull-Ups one time and the Minnie Mouse ones the next. Zoomer has a stuffed dog named Dante that goes everywhere with them and a baby doll that they named DeeDee. Zoomer loves Play-Doh and molds neon-colored animals and pretend food. They say, “I’m not going to eat it.” Then I see that their teeth are bright blue, and they have, in fact, tried to eat it.

A common critique of gender-creative parenting is that “the kid will be confused,” but Zoomer doesn’t seem confused at all. In fact, they have a more nuanced understanding of sex and gender than a lot of adults. We teach them to use gender-neutral words until a person tells us about themself. We call kids friends. We have taught Zoomer about their own body without using boy-girl labels. Zoomer understands that some girls have penises and some boys have vulvas, and some intersex kids have vulvas and testes. Zoomer knows some daddies get pregnant and some nonbinary parents are called Zazas. At day care, I tell teachers, “Please snuggle them and wrestle with them. Please compliment their painted toenails and let them get muddy. Call them handsome and beautiful; sensitive and brave. Give them the opportunity to play with the Hot Wheels and the kitchen set.” Because Zoomer has been raised with a focus on inclusivity, they have an instinct to make everyone feel welcome. When a character on a kids’ show says, “Hello, boys and girls!” Zoomer adds, “And nonbinary pals!”

A friend of mine recently told me when she first found out how we were going to parent, she thought, That’s going to be endless work for Kyl. “But now I actually think that you are so lucky and had some great foresight,” she said. “I spend so much of my time tearing the walls down that people are trying to build around my daughters. People aren’t trying to build walls around Zoomer because they don’t know which walls to build.”

I wanted to give my child a gift. The gift of seeing people as more than just a gender. The gift of understanding gender as complex, beautiful and self-determined. I hadn’t considered how much of a gift I’d also be giving myself. While curating an experience for Zoomer to come to their own identity, I inadvertently started taking a closer look at mine too.

One day, Zoomer and I were playing hide-and-seek. They cupped their eyes as I hid in the pantry, then walked around the house mimicking the words we use when we are trying to find them. “Mommy, you in the plant? No … Mommy, you under the couch? No.” As they got closer, they called out, “Kyl! Where are you?”

Gender-creative parenting comes with a giant mirror and forces me to ask myself, “Kyl! Where are you?” I’ve examined my own gender identity and expression more in the past four years than I had in the three decades before becoming Zoomer’s parent. As I’ve tried to create an environment where Zoomer is free from the chains of binary gender, I am working to figure out what about my gender is authentic and what was prescribed to me, and is it even possible to differentiate at this point? I love my body, but I don’t love that I was assigned a specific gender role because of it. In my early 30s, I’m climbing out of the girl box I was placed in in 1986. I’m trying on new labels and pronouns, and giving myself the same encouragement to play with gender that I am giving my child.

Not everyone has the support that Brent and I have. We sprang gender-creative parenting on our families, and they decided to get on board. They shared in the emotional labor and took it upon themselves to educate our extended family and their co-workers, neighbors and friends. They are champions at using gender-neutral pronouns. Some of my friends have not been so lucky. They’ve lost touch with family members or have strained relationships because of their decision to do gender-creative parenting. I know of a grandparent who keeps a stash of clothing, so whenever their gender-creative grandchild comes over, they change them out of the outfit the child picked to put them in something more stereotypically associated with their sex. Some of my friends’ family members have called child protective services, reporting their grandchild is being abused, simply because they weren’t assigned a gender. This is also a reason I feel strongly about being a public advocate for parenting this way—many others don’t have the safety, support and resources to talk openly about it.

Around their fourth birthday, Zoomer started declaring a gender identity and claiming some gendered pronouns. Brent and I are honoring Zoomer’s identity and expression and answering all their questions in an age-appropriate and inclusive way. (I’m using they here because Zoomer is still exploring gender and I want them to have some autonomy over how they share their identity with the world.)

I’m witnessing my child create their own gender—and who Zoomer has become is greater than anything I could have imagined or assigned. Instead of us telling the children who they should be, maybe it’s the children who will teach us how to be. We just have to get out of their way.

Myers is the author of Raising Them: Our Adventure in Gender Creative Parenting, from which this essay is adapted

via https://cutslicedanddiced.wordpress.com/2018/01/24/how-to-prevent-food-from-going-to-waste

[writeawayjake]

Work in progress!!!

So far these have all been first drafts but this one chapter was one I wasn’t really happy with until I went back and re-worked it!!! As always, open to notes and critiques!!!

CHAPTER 1

The Swordsman

How had he gotten here? Shirt half soaked in cheap mead, eyes red with lack of sleep, sitting in a dingy tavern far from anywhere that could be considered ‘civilized’. The glory had faded, the shouts of praise had grown quiet, and the days had begun to blur together. All he had left was the sword and the memories of what he had gone through to get it, what he did with it once he had it. It had been years since he even took it out of it’s sheath.Why didn’t you save them? Why weren’t you strong enough? Why? Why? Why?

“Another” he grumbled to the bar keep, sliding his cup across the bar. The dull candlelight barely illuminating the man's very blurry face.

“You still haven’t paid for the last five, I’ll need the coin ‘fore I pour you another drop.” Begrudgingly he reached back for the coin purse on his belt. Yes, another, keep going until we can’t feel anything. Until it all goes away. Drink. Just that simple act was proving difficult, the room was beginning to spin and his extremities were starting to feel numb. He groped around clumsily for a time until a booming voice startled him.

“IT’S HIM!” The voice bellowed. He, very carefully, turned himself in his stool to see a very large, very blurry, bald Behemoth with several friends around him. He could tell they were there but for the life of him couldn’t make out any faces. Or be positive that he wasn’t just seeing double. “Yer ‘im aren’t ya? The Swordsman. The ‘dawn bringer’ right?”

“I’m no one.” he replied in a grim monotone. You’re a failure. False hero.

“NAH! You’re ‘im! Me and the lads keep hearin’ stories about that sword. Didn’t think it was real.” Turning back towards the bar he tried desperately to ignore the group as he continued looking for his coin purse. He had dealt with enough drunk idiots in recent years to know when one was just looking for a fight. After gaining his current reputation it seemed that every town he visited had someone seeking to test their manhood by taunting him. “I’m sure of it! Yer ‘im! Yer pretty scrawny for a hero, anyone ever tell ya that?” The Behemoth leaned in, “How about it hero? Show us that sword.”

“You don’t want that…” He warned. But you do. Draw it. Draw it, hero. Kill everyone here. That’s all you’re good for. Most dignity had already abandoned him at this point in his life, but he was just drunk enough to do something stupid and self destructive if given the chance.

“Move along…” he repeated, a grim expression beginning to set in his eyes. The Behemoth came around, moving much closer and his face came into focus; a bent nose that had been broken many times, several scars scattered about, and bulbous shrunken ears. Please, he thought. Please don’t make me draw.

You know you want to. Why are you pretending you’re afraid. You want to. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it!!!

“Are you plannin’ on movin’ me?” There was a long silence before the Behemoth scoffed and began reaching for the hilt of the sword. Without warning, the Swordsman's skull slammed into the Behemoth’s face with a loud CRACK, re-breaking his nose. The blow had caused him to fall from his stool and had sent the Behemoth reeling. With his feet now underneath him, the floor felt like it was shifting and swaying beneath him. The Behemoth let out a roar of pain and held his hands to his face as blood rushed down his chin. That’s it! Keep going hero!  “AHM GONNA SHOVE THAH SWORD UP YER ASS!!!” He bellowed. The Swordsman reached instinctively for his sword but his hand recoiled, almost as if he was horrified of it and slowly his arms fell to his sides. You coward.

The Behemoth, still screaming, threw a wild haymaker at the Swordsman’s head and a massive fist landed flush across his cheek, hurling him halfway across the room, as if he made no attempt to dodge it. He threw another, and another, each one staggering the Swordsman but he never attempted to fight back or defend himself. You should just let him kill you. There’s nothing here for you. No one who cares if you die in this shithole. Fed up the Behemoth finally grabbed the Swordsman and hurled him into a nearby table, sending cups and plates flying. The Swordsman slowly stood back up with a far off look in his eyes and blood trailing out of the cuts on his cheek and brow. “STAY DOWN!!!” The Behemoth bellowed as he threw yet another punch. Yet this one did not meet it’s mark and instead the Behemoth received a swift stomp to his knee. A sickening snap and a blood curdling scream could be heard throughout the tavern. The Behemoth began to topple over but before he could hit the floor the Swordsman grabbed his collar,

“No…” The Swordsman said almost in a whisper, before he began slamming his fist into the Behemoth’s nose over and over with savagery and abandon. Over and over again the Swordsman’s fist met its mark, sending droplets of blood flying this way and that. This is all you’re good for. The other patrons who still remained in the tavern looked on in horror as they were sure no one could survive such a beating for long. Kill him. Kill him. Burn the world down! The Behemoth’s friends finally decided to intervene, rushing in to try and save their comrade. Two grabbed the Swordsman’s arms and tried to pull him off, one began punching him in the gut and ribs as the last tried to drag the Behemoth from the melee.

As numb as the drink had made him the Swordsman could feel a rib begin to crack under the barrage. Yes. Yes! Hit us harder. Harder!!! A searing pain ran through his chest as the punches continued. Finally after several mighty blows the friend pulled a knife. A seax that glinted in the dim candle light. There was no way he could have known the kind of mistake he was making. Prior to that, the whole affair had just been a fight to the Swordsman. He’d been able to hold it at bay. He had been able to ignore it, but now, now it was a different matter entirely… 

Poor bastard, he thought. 

Poor bastard. The voice said.