#nuance because i would do work that is unpaid

[leafsbabe]

Justin Herbert - sparks fly (SMUT)

4.3k words, reader is described as not small height wise but the rest is hopefully vague enough

Coming to LA had been a spur of the moment decision but you never regretted it one bit.

You wanted an adventure and one of your friends needed an apartment sitter/somebody to take over their rent for a three month trip overseas so you packed a bag and headed to Hollywood. What you didn’t anticipate was falling in love with the city and so your illegal sublet turned into a small apartment of your own, your vacation into an unpaid internship into a paid internship into a job, and your adventure into a new home.

You didn’t live lavishly like the upper echelon but you could pay your rent, go to large outdoor flea markets on the weekend, and splurge on tacos from the taqueria at the corner while still putting away some money for savings so it was safe to say that life was going pretty damn great.

Justin and you bumped into each other on a hike. Or rather he bumped into you, causing you to stumble, fall, and skim your knee in the least sexy way possible… if there even was a sexy way to get hurt.

But Justin had been sweet, squatting down next to you and making sure you weren't seriously hurt before helping you up. You weren’t a short girl, never had been, but this handsome stranger towered over you in a way that made your thoughts run wild. You couldn’t help but look up at him while he helped you to the nearest bench. He sat down with you and you both drank from your water bottles side by side, sneaking glances at each other from the corners of your eyes.

He was the first to say something, his words stuck in your memory to this day. “Do I know you from somewhere? You look familiar.”

Later you would learn that this was supposed to be a pick-up line and the follow up would have been about him seeing you in his dreams but at that time you had just filmed a scene in a popular tv procedural as scared coffee shop visitor #4 (something you had told everyone back home and no one in LA, because it felt weird to talk about something like that here) so you just blurted that out.

Was it embarrassing? Yes. Did it lead to you two sitting there on that bench talking about shows until the sun started to set? Also yes.

Justin and you exchanged numbers and you even threw caution in the wind and let him walk you to your car, because pretty serial killers wouldn’t talk about the nuances of copaganda for hours and if they did you’d take you chances at knocking him out with your reusable water bottle even if he was over a head taller than you.

That night you sent each other a handful of messages. The next day he even called you after work like a total weirdo. The weekend after he took you to a restaurant in the hills and encouraged you to order something that wasn’t the cheapest salad on the menu because he was going to pay, like a gentleman. You shared a bottle of non-alcoholic sparkling grape juice. Him because he drove, you because you wanted that gorgeous man to absolutely rail you and thought any perceived inebriation might prevent that.

He didn’t fuck you but there was a prolonged make out session in his car where he felt up your tits, so you didn’t even feel bad getting yourself off with your trusty vibrator after he dropped you off at your apartment. 

Your second date took you outside again with a small hike followed by a picnic. He had packed all kinds of food because he wasn’t sure what you liked and had forgotten to ask. Justin laughed about panicking and buying half a store worth of snacks just so that you’d have something you like. It was so sweet.

He didn’t kiss you like he did after the first date, wild and like he had to hold himself back. 

No. His kisses were sweet, hands never wandering above your waist or below you hips. He did accept it when you invited him up to your place for a coffee though. Half a dirty iced chai latte later he had you pressed against your couch, his large hands dangerously close to your ass.

Yet he still didn’t fuck you.

“Next time,” he promised with his head buried in your throat, “after our third date I'll take you home and won’t let you leave my bed for the next three days.”

It was sweet, in a way, and you hadn’t had sex since before you moved to LA anyways so what difference would a few more days make.

“Okay. Tomorrow?” You didn’t even care that it sounded desperate.

“Can’t.” Justin groaned. “We’re leaving for an away game the day after tomorrow and I meant what I said about keeping you in my bed.” 

You felt his lips against your pulse as he spoke.

“When do you get back?”

“In four days.”

Fuck. Maybe a few more days did make a difference.

He kissed your neck again, grinding down and showing you just why the wait would be worth it. Hopefully you would remember to charge your vibrator. 

He took you to an arcade style place for your third date and it was an absolute blast. With so many options of games to try out you barely had time to look at everything. Justin was a gentleman the entire time, a pattern you noticed during your last two dates. Even though you’d worn a short skirt (and safety shorts because tall girls and mini skirts didn’t always get along) and cozied up to him all afternoon his hands remained off your ass and solidly in PG-13 areas.

You were having fun, challenging each other while laughing the entire time, but you were looking forward to the end of the date when you could finally go home with him. You could feel the vibe shift, growing needier as time went on, with Justin reflecting his own desires back at you.

When you accidentally touched a sticky surface and had to go to the bathroom to wash your hands you had the genius idea to take off the shorts and shove them to the bottom of your bag. 

And boy did that idea pay off.

Twenty minutes later you were in the front seat of his car as Justin drove the two of you back to his place with his right hand on your thigh inching higher and higher. He didn’t look at you as it slid under your skirt, eyes on the road, but the smirk on his lips made it clear to you that he knew what he was doing. He was so close to touching you where you needed him the most when the car stopped and he withdrew his hand as you groaned. 

“Patience.” He teased.

You climbed out of the car before he could help you out, downright eager now. By the time you reached his front door you could barely hold yourself back. All it took was a split second, the door closed behind you and Justin unceremoniously pressed you against it as his lips landed on yours. 

You’ve never been a small girl but the way you had to tilt your head to kiss Justin had a way of making you feel tiny. He bent down, lips never separating from yours, and just picked you up, hands under your skirt somewhere between your plush thighs and your ass. You moaned and he continued kissing you, fingers kneading against your soft skin as he turned around and started waking further into his apartment. God, you hoped his hands would leave bruises.

A noise interrupted you and when you looked to the side you saw a cat looking back at you from where it was perched on a cabinet. Justin didn’t follow your eyes, lip finding your neck instead. “That’s Nova.” He mumbled against your skin. “I’ll introduce you two later.” Then he sucked hard and you forgot everything except him. Somehow you made your way to his bedroom, something you only noticed after he let you fall back against the pillows.

With Justin standing at the edge of the bed looking down on you, you felt even smaller. He was breathing heavily, chest rising and falling, showing off his strong muscles. Oh, how you wanted them to hold you down as he took you.

You took off your shirt in one smooth motion, throwing it somewhere to the side of the bed and hoped that Justin wouldn’t mind. Judging by the way he was staring at your tits, he didn’t.

Justin soon followed your lead, stripping his clothes off as you watched. There was no denying that he was smoking hot, his body solid and you couldn't help but press your thighs together in the search of some relief.

“What do you need?”

Need. Not want. You had to take a moment to collect yourself. What did you need?

“I need you to fuck my mouth,” you started, “I need to choke on your dick until I cry and I need you to fuck me until I forget my name and can only scream yours.”

For a moment you worried that it would be too much. That it would be too rough for Justin or that you were too needy. But the look in his eyes showed you that he would give you everything you asked for. 

Justin stood in front of the bed, looking down at you while he stroked his dick. Precum gathered at his tip and a whimper left your lips at the sight. 

“You want it?” He asked, tone just mocking enough to make you close your legs harder, desperately looking for any kind of friction.

You nodded while looking up at Justin, moving on the bed to get closer to him. Finally you could almost taste him. The pink tip of his dick just barely touched your lips. 

“Please.” You begged for him to let you have it. 

“Be a good girl and show me you deserve it.” 

He gave it to you slowly. One hand holding his dick, the other cradling your cheek, as you took it.

Justin felt heavy in your mouth as you took more and more of him. He was big, yes, but you knew you would manage to swallow all of him. You looked up at him through your lashes until his muscles blocked the view and you could close your eyes, fully concentrating on making sure that Justin would give you everything you needed. 

Slowly you pushed yourself to your limit, fitting him into your throat until your lips wrapped around his base. Justin’s dick was a lot to take in and you didn’t know if you could take it should he try and fuck your throat but for a short moment —with him frozen in front of you— you managed to take all of him. 

You swallowed around him once, twice, and began to slowly pull back before Justin moved again.

“Fuck.” His voice was deep and low as the hand that had been cradling your cheek moved to now hold the back of your head instead.

You couldn’t help but moan around him, the vibrations around his dick only making him hold onto you tighter.

“Good girl.” His fingers flexed against your head and the combinations of both made you feel dizzy, happy that you could be good for him. 

With his other hand Justin reached out and trailed his fingertips from your shoulder down your arm until you realized what he wanted and gave him your hand. He brought it to his thigh, letting you lay your palm flat along the thick firm muscle before covering it with his own. 

“If I’m too rough,” Justin started, “or you need me to slow down, if you just want to take a break or stop for any reason, you slap my leg and I’ll stop. Understood?”

Nodding yes didn’t seem to satisfy Justin, instead he used the hand on your head to pull you off him. You barely managed to do that thing with your tongue before he had you looking up at him through your lashes again.

“I need you to say it.”

“Understood.” And oh how wrecked your voice already sounded. There was no doubt in your mind that it would be completely gone by tomorrow.

“Good girl.” He said again, before silencing your whine with his dick.

There was no denying that Justin was strong. He was thick with muscle, powerful, yet you never felt unsafe as he picked up the pace.

He was rough like you had asked him to. Thrusting hard and fast and pushing your head down to meet him halfway. It was maddening. Above you Justin said something but you were far too gone to listen.

It wasn’t until his movements got gentler and he slowly withdrew from your mouth that you tuned back in.

Justin hadn’t come and was still hard, was one thing you noticed, looking between his dick in front of you and his face high above you.

The fact that you had teared up like you had told him you wanted to, was another.

His hands came up to cradle your face and he gently wiped away the tears with his thumbs as you looked at him.

“So pretty.” His voice was soft, gentle as if to not spook you and the thought of him underestimating you made you want to protest but all that ended up happening was you pouting as he stroked your cheeks.

“Aw don’t pout. You can suck it again later. I just didn’t want to come until I got to fuck you.”

He had to bend down to kiss you, this tall man folding in half to reach you where you kneeled on his bed, and the reminder of your size difference made you squirm.

In response Justin kissed you harder, pushing forward until you lost our balance and fell back on the bed. In a fluid motion Justin followed, bracing himself above you as his lips found your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He made his way down your body, leaving behind a trail of kisses as he went. When he reached your chest he departed from his careful line of kisses. The two kisses, sweet little pecks almost, that he pressed to either boob, stood in stark contrast with his hand that bullied it’s way under your body so that he could unhook your bra. He tugged on the bridge until it became loose enough for you to get the hint and shrug it off while he pulled your skirt and embarrassingly soaked underwear down your legs in one smooth motion.

You didn’t even get the chance to think about hiding yourself from Justin before his large hands gently parted your legs enough for him to fit between them. His mouth fit itself against the skin on the side of your knee before he slowly, teasingly, kissed his way up to where you needed him most. Even though you anticipated the first touch of his lips against your pussy it still sent a shock through your body.

Justin didn’t waste any time pretending to tease you any longer. His lips found your clit almost immediately, wrapping around the small bud almost lovingly before sucking. His tongue toyed with it while you moaned his name. Your hands found their way into his hair and you pulled, hard, but not hard enough to dislodge Justin’s wonderful mouth. It took two more moans before he released your clit and wandered lower, dragging his lips along your skin as he moved. The first drag of his tongue was testing, exploring. The second one wasn’t tame at all.

Justin groaned against your pussy and you swore you could feel it through your entire body. He pulled away for a moment and a pitiful whine left your lips at the loss of his mouth, only for it to turn into a moan when you saw him licking his lips before diving in again. 

You got lost in the feeling of his mouth on you, the way his lips moved so similarly to when he was kissing you just moments before. His long fingers joined his lips in bringing you pleasure and you couldn’t hold back anymore, grinding against his face until you came with your thighs wrapped around his head.

Justin continued to mouth at your thigh as you started to come down before he stood up from the bed and you took a moment to just watch him. The aftershock of your orgasm still ran through your body and combined with the picture in front of you it felt like a high you never wanted to end. Justin was breathing heavy, his thick chest rising and falling hard. The last bit of sunlight shining through the curtains tinted the bedroom in a soft light making his face glisten and you realized with a jolt that the wetness on his cheeks came from you.

The fading light painted him golden, with his hair shining like a halo, a statue as a tribute to raw desire. His likeness could grace museums across the globe, giving other marbles complexes but instead of the Louvre he stood in his bedroom, looking down at you sprawled across his bed, waiting for him to take you like he had promised. 

When Justin finally moved it was in determined long strides. He was a simple man that kept his condoms in the first drawer of his nightstand. Part of you wanted to tell him to forget about them, to fuck you bare until you were dripping with him, but you didn’t want to spook him with your eagernes, so you resigned yourself to bringing it up the next time. Justin passed you on his hunt  for protection and you had to crane your neck back to watch him, but the view made up for it. His front was absolutely gorgeous but you had to admit that his backside was quite nice to look at as wel.You were debating whether or not you should reach out to touch him when he turned around, box in hand, before throwing it onto the bed near your head. It still had plastic around it and you couldn’t help but imagine Justin going to the store in preparation of your date, grabbing it not just in case but on purpose. Had he gotten it in preparation for this date? After the second date? After your first? The big box seemed awfully ambitious though. Perfect.

Instead of walking back to the end of the bed and working his way up your body again Justin just skipped straight to holding himself above you and you didn’t waste any time getting your hands into his locks and pulling him down until your lips connected. He kissed you hard and fast while slowly lowering himself until his heavy body pressed yours into the mattress. It felt so easy to let yourself be blanketed by his warmth, his solid body so close to yours that you could feel every inch of his desire.

“Fuck.” He exclaimed as he pulled away from the kiss. Justin didn’t venture far though, staying close enough that you could feel the strands of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Can you…” He nodded towards the box.

You nodded, eager, before reaching for the box and struggling to rip it open. When it finally popped open it did so in spectacular fashion, spilling an avalanche of little foil packets all over the bed and your body.

“Oh.”

You didn’t know which one of you laughed first but it took some time before the two of you calmed down again. Justin helped you clear the mess, swiping the countless packets towards the free side of the bed. It should feel weird, at least a little bit, now that the tension between Justin and you got broken. For a second you feared that your clumsiness had turned him off completely but then he kissed you again, slow and deep and like he wanted to devour you.

One of his hands reached for the pile of condoms while the other moved up your side, cupping one of your boobs when he reached them. His thumb barely grazed your nipple before Justin moved away but he still managed to pull a moan from your lips.

“Ready?” He asked, looking at you with hungry eyes.

“Yes.” You needed him so badly. “Please.”

The first push of him inside you was careful but determined. Justin gave you aloof himself until he was buried to the hilt, pausing once he was fully inside you and giving you time to adjust to his large size. Youwanted to tell him to move,to fuck you until you felt him days fromnow, butbefore you could ask-beg-demand he silenced you with another seering kiss. You learned why when he pulled away from the kiss, still buried deep inside you.

“I need to be careful with you.” He talked low, almost whispering. “Don’t want you to be sore when I fuck you again later.”

It made sense. Afterall Justin had promised to keep you in his bed for days. But with him filling youtube so perfectly, there was simply no room left for logical thinking.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he started to move. Slow, meticulous thrusts that didn’t feel overwhelming at first but drove you wild after just a few movements of his hips. There was something otherworldly in the way he managed to hit all the places that needed to be hit, filling you up perfectly again and again and again. Justin stayed close to you while he fucked you, his hips grinding in deep and putting just enough pressure on your clit to send sparks of pleasure through your whole body.

Your hands tightened in his hair, making him groan before dipping down and encapsulating one of our nipples with his hot, wet mouth.

“Jus- Justin.”

His teeth grazed against the soft flesh of your boob teasingly before his tongue delved down, soothing the hard peak between his lips in gentle laps. Justin groaned when you tugged on his hair and the sensation of it vibrating against your skin just made you tighten your grip further. There was no denying that you needed him. Him and his soft mouth and his hard dick and his strong body pressed against yours. This perfect wave of pleasure just kept building with every single movement but you couldn’t reach your high.

“Just—” He bit down hard enough for it to sting before his tongue traced the slight indents. “Please.”

You weren’t above begging but your fucked out brain couldn’t think of any more words. Thankfully he seemed to understand what you needed even without your saying it.

“Fuck. Okay.” He lifted himself a little bit higher, chuckling when you whined at the loss of his weight and warmth. “You asked for this.”

He sounded just the right amount of condescending when you clenched around him and he rewarded you with a “good girl”.

You didn’t last long after Justin started fucking you properly, rough and fast like you had wanted him to. The power behind his thrusts was enough to move you on the bed, closer and closer towards the headboard every time your bodies connected. He had stopped holding back and made you come with only a handful of thrusts.

When you came to it was with Justin holding himself above your body —breathing hard— and your still shaking thighs wrapped around his hips. Part of you felt disappointed for missing what he looked like when he came but you knew there would be more than enough orgasms for you to catch a glimpse.

It took you a while to feel secure enough to remove your legs from him. After you did so Justin carefully pulled out and disposed of the condom. While he went to get a towel to help clean you up you were left in his bed. It took some energy to sit up but it didn’t hurt. You felt empty but that could be changed soon enough. 15 minutes. Maybe 20. Depending on when Justin wanted to go again.

Speaking of. Justin returned to his bedroom, still gloriously naked, holding water bottles in one of his hands and what looked like a washcloth and a towel in the other. You didn’t feel self conscious as he helped you clean up. He had seen every part of you already anyway.

He offered you a shirt of his to cover up but you didn’t mind being bare before him. There was the hint of a love bite starting to form on your chest and you hated the thought of covering up all his hard work. Still, you made a mental note to take him up on his offer later. You had a feeling that a shirt that fit his large frame would swallow you up and you wanted nothing more than to live out the big men’s shirt moment that had been denied you for so long. 

Instead you curled up with him, his blanket half draped over your bodies while you just laid there, enjoying the closeness between you. The energy between Justin and you continued to be magnetic, even after giving in to your desires, and you found yourself unable to tame a wide smile.

“Happy?” Justin looked at you with a soft smile on his lips.

“Hmmm. Very.” You let your eyes wander for a moment. “Want to make out?”

Instead of verbally answering Justin just cupped your face and brought your mouths together in a saccharine kiss.

[cowboyjen68]

Regarding your most recent post: I don’t know if this is something you’d be interested in, but you could definitely ask for financial support. You’ve helped so many people and I know we’d love to give back, even if it’s just a bit. Everybody needs a hand up sometimes, especially with something as volatile as farm life

I appreciate this. I have been told by many friends to not always compare myself to others. I tend to think that there are certainly others more deserving and in more dire circumstances with me. I have health and more resources and the ability to work for more hours than others, and I definitely don't sit back on my butt and hope for the best.

My friends and family remind me that exactly zero people would be forced to give me financial support and anyone doing it would do so because they either were helped my me, appreciate my presence or see value in my lesbian focused positivity on social media and in real life. Working on social media and real life work helping those in my community does take time and energy that is unpaid. I would never stop doing any of it unless my need to take on another job/more paid hours robbed me of the ability to put in that effort.

Every time I get something in paypal or venmo from someone on line I am amazed and encouraged by the kindness. The stray cat I found got her vet bills paid in under 24 hours. Someone sent me a little towards my water heater and it allowed me to make a small first payment to the company without skimming some off my propane bill, which gives us heat.

Any time I can take on a little less paid work to write or answer asks and DM's or to assist someone in my community who needs a hand is really a bonus for me because it makes me happy to be able to do so.

My linktree has my venmo, paypal, cash app listed in it. My snail mail address is in my bio. Cards, letters etc are always welcome.

I truly appreciate the platform with which I have been provided to tell my experiences and to hear that of others. I am proud of the followings I have garnered because it is diverse and, in general, well behaved. My expectations of how I am received and how my followers interact is created by my real world experiences. I know on- line is not always the same but I strive for that same sort of environment where nuance exists. And where we understand that our experience might not be that of others but that does not prevent us from talking.

If you enjoy my content, if I have helped you, made you laugh or feel better about yourself or if you want and have the means to support lesbian positivity through my work here is my link tree with Cashapp, venmo, paypay.

Look for new merch in 2023. I don't make hardly any money on it but it does put the word Lesbian out into the world just a little more.

[latineslytherin]

It is honestly so refreshing to read someone who actually knows their stuff in gaming development, Fandom, I squeeked in excitement when u mentioned crunch (not bc I like that it's a standard in so many dev cycles and you KNOW that). But yeah. I would love if the whole discussion would be more nuanced. I understand that it's a lot about feelings but it never works when you tell someone that they can't have something (I think a good example would be meat eater vs. Vegan and how THAT vegan person™️ approaches). I am so exited to read more of your block!

I also apologize for any typos or spelling/grammar errors. I rely heavily on my autocomplete to know what it's doing - I am not a native speaker.

I know a few people in the industry and have been a gamer and in fandom since 20+years. I was a volunteer QA for a few games that had early access to alpha. And now I do QA (among other things) for a software company so like - I understand on a basic level whats up in the gaming industry. And if there's something I don't know, I know people in the industry currently that have ranted and vented to me about that I can ask.

The gaming industry is just so much more stressful and red-tape/bureaucracy and answering to shareholders/investors - people have no idea how hard it is to fight for certain features and representation in non-indie game development. So much that when a game DOES have it - its like WOAH who are the game devs who risked their job to bring that up over and over to the point they allocated resources for it? I wanna support that game for them!

Like I'm remembering how Mass Effect Andromeda - how one game writer fought so Vetra - an ALIEN (Turian) character - to be bisexual. The writer then left the ME team at the end of it because she was burned out for fighting for just that little bit that only a small minority of players would even come across! (And also lead writer was an asshole from the Halo writing team). And that's from Bioware - owned by EA who finally gave us insane representation in Sims after I dunno -HOW MANY YEARS?! And if you know the history of how THAT came to be - is just amazing.

Like I get it, we should support indie devs - but not all indie devs are going to be able to give us the kind of game we want that bigger devs CAN and do give us. Because the rep isn't the focus for a lot of games - it's the story (especially in RPG) and the gameplay - and if they can - maybe if they have the man hours/ resources work in the rep. I think about how there was ONE guy who spent hours of extra and unpaid time to make sure the Iron Bull romance was playable for all races/gender in Dragon Age Inquisition because otherwise there just wasn't resources allocated to make that be a thing - and yet because he sacrificed his own time he did it.

Also like the Crunch thing - I understand. In my industry there is crunch - currently I'm in 50+ hour work week crunch time for the next 4 months (I don't get overtime, I'm salaried). But I commiserate with the gaming industry when it's crunch time because I get it and they have it so much worse. So hell yeah I'm gonna support them when I get something - however little.

Anyway yes…people are talking about the gaming industry without like truly understanding the nuance of what its like to work in the industry even a little.

(wow this got long and ranty, sorry about that. also you're good on spelling. I understood.)

[samrobotsin]

it’s not “robots” using AI to make art, it’s humans using AI to make art. saying AI art is “robots making art” is about as braindead of a take as saying art made in Photoshop is “robots making art”

I get there is a lot of nuance here, and I'm not wholly against AI tools in making art but how casual you're being about the uncredited & uncompensated labor of artists is deeply upsetting. Comparing AI Art to anti-piracy politics. I'm pro-piracy, but being pro-piracy as a form of anti-consumerism politics & art preservation is not the same as saying you have the right to sell things you pirated for your own profit. Or even plagiarism. I would hope you can see the difference in piracy & taking credit for the work of others. As lifting the work of others is what this algorithm needs to do in order to function.

Comparing AI Art to seizing the means of production. Writing an algorithm is labor. Painting a picture is labor. After that you're in for much different debate: Who owns AI generated Art? The person who wrote the algorithm? The person who entered the prompts? How about the person who seeded the base data for the peice, you know, an actual artist. Because per usual, the actual artist seems to be the last person to be getting paid. You had a problem with the seeded art being compared to farming but if the people who grew the grain, baked the bread & delivered the materials all deserve compensation, why are you so quick to credit the person who wrote the program, the person who entered the prompt, but exclude the people who created the art that informed the algorithm? They're all necessary to this process but one group is getting shafted. So yes, in the analogy of the farmer, cutting out the artist that made the art that seeded the algorithm is like a robot stealing grain from a farmer. Marx wrote a lot about the quality of the human soul, and the parts of the human experience that get in the way of sheer productivity; these are things Leninists like to ignore. Marx was pretty clear about putting physical demands like food, clothing, & reproduction, over emotional demands, like entertainment, love & joy would be a gateway to fascism. If you're going to coldly say "food is more important than happiness" at some point you have to admit you're just a fascist who loves rugged individualism.

Comparing AI Art to outsider art. We've already had cases where an AI can replicate a single individual's style, only make it just different enough to cut them out. You used marxist rhetoric but you veered offcourse when you referred to money generated by art as "profit." I think you were trying to say its fine to crib someone's work if that person is already rich; but there are a lot of poor artists & the majority of work being seeded in these algorithms was unpaid: And no, that doesn't make a work 'free to steal' either. If we hypothesize about tool-assisted art outside of capitalism, surely the tools to make AI Art would exist, but AI Art itself would not. Because why would it? Its an attempt to maximize profit with as little effort as possible, as seen in those "Family Finger" children's videos that plagued youtube for a while. That "Alice & Sparkle" book is not a genuine expression of anything human. And I can't imagine anything as dystopian as using letting artificial intelligence educate small children.

[faithfromanewperspective]

alright I’m bored and I’m a professional in the field of sustainability so buckle up, nuanced explanation for what carbon credits do coming up.

first off it’s true that they don’t put the carbon back into the ground. obviously, only sequestration projects do that, and those occur over years and decades (think how long it takes to grow a forest). carbon credits can fund sequestration projects though, or they can also pay to conserve a forest or smth that was going to get chopped down to make money some other way—what carbon credits do is pay instead for the owner of the land to conserve it, maybe implement some techniques for it to sequester more carbon than it otherwise would. they put the money where the conservation and sequestration are happening. Put a value to something that was otherwise unpaid labour of both the planet and the people taking care of it. carbon credits often go towards indigenous land management, though they vary on their credibility. some go towards funding the installation of renewable energy that halts the emissions of an area: whatever the area stopped emitting is what those credits cost. you can see how those could be controversial, but also how they are extremely important as a way to fund these transitions when unfortunately there’s often no other way to fund them. overall they do not reduce the total amount of carbon in the sky, rather they pay to reduce someone else’s emissions so it’s as if your emissions don’t make a difference to the total. There are still emissions!! going into the sky. Until we hit net zero as a planet carbon credits are going to be kind of a cop out. and yet they’re also extremely important and their existence is going to get us to net zero faster than otherwise because sometimes you need to fund all the conservation or trees are just gonna get chopped to make money in poor areas. sometimes you just gotta pay for someone’s solar panels cause they can’t front the cost. and emissions do have to cost something!

buying double actually does kinda help because it’s as if your activities indirectly cause a net lower amount of emissions so props for that. it’s something I’ve suggested many times as a more ethical and actually net positive version of carbon credits. actually more helpful.

what I suggest from here is to think about a few things: can you raise awareness of some ways to lower carbon emissions? think indigenous land rights, maybe you can start a business loaning out money to people who can’t afford solar panels upfront and paying itself off and more over a 10 year period (idk who’s reading this, I talk to a lot of business people at work so some of you might be here). do your part bc I promise the system is working against us now but together we can turn it around. campaign for strategies broader than individual action. invest in plant based faux meats and cell culture meats instead of animal agriculture that requires much more land. invest in SEAWEED! seaweed and all forms of algae are the best form of carbon sequestration. share designs of green cities. and also, question how you consume music and art. support your local musicians, then ask them if they were big and famous, how they would like people to behave in order for them to safely access commercial flights when they do fly and go on regular public transport. then petition your local councillors to invest in good public transport that is efficient and attracts the rich while serving the poor. campaign for private carriages to attach to trains again! literally just get creative. heck, send your craziest solution ideas into my ask box. we need more people to think of them.

like I do get that criticism is necessary sometimes and it’s necessary to see even those we adore as nuanced and morally grey and imperfect humans. but I’ve made this point before: the whole private jet saga is partially the fault of fans and critics who can’t be normal about celebrities and I do get it especially from a fan perspective. but I also can think of how overwhelming it must be to be treated in that way, and not at all conducive of being in touch with the rest of us and making good decisions for us all. Remember that morality isn’t a simple decision to make but requires a thousand things to go right around you to enable it. and protest, yes, when you do be specific about what you want and attack that, offer solutions where possible, use science, and don’t use ableist terms out of their appropriate mental health context or demonise cluster b’s to make your point. I’m tired. I’m catching a 14 hr train ride to avoid a 2hr flight tomorrow and flexing that, but there are different reasons people struggle with trains as there are for those that struggle to fly as well. let’s get our facts right as we fight this fight and stay humble.

love swifties defending the private jet pollutant allegations by saying she bought twice the amount of carbon credits like it's so clear they don't actually know what they are.

carbon credits are part of a system designed to incentivise more environmentally friendly processes and habits by attaching a price tag to the amount of pollutants released. they do not make it so the pollutants themselves are neutralised. functionally, all they really are is the equivalent to the penalty for breaking certain laws being a fine, i.e, legal for a price, meaning the rich (which someone who recently became a billionaire most certainly is) can continue to do whatever they want.

[cripplecharacters]

hi! I have a question in regards to "abled savior" trope and compassion fatigue. I am currently writing a story that features someone who cares for a severely ill and disabled family member. From personal experience I know that the stress that comes with caretaking can in some cases cause burnout and depression. While this is of course not to be weighed against the struggles of the disabled character in any way, I would like to explore this dilemma in a way so that does mirror my personal experiences while not shifting the narrative in a way that rehashes old and harmful tropes. Do you have thoughts on that and maybe some things to look out for when portraying fatigue and mental health issues in caretakers?

Hello, and thanks for your question! As you've mentioned, this is a topic which should be treated with a lot of care and nuance, as it can be very easy to reinforce ableist stereotypes in storytelling about caretakers. For context about my response, I'm a chronically ill person who does not have a paid or formal caretaker but my partner and roommate often act as caretakers for me in my everyday life.

You're absolutely correct in caretaking being a stressful and difficult job (especially when unpaid or unrecognized by society as a legitimate form of labour). I have a few general questions that I would encourage anyone writing about caretaking to ask themselves and keep in mind as they write:

Whose perspective is the story being told from?

Does the reader ever hear from the disabled character in their own words?

How much agency does the disabled character have in their life and in making decisions about their care?

What relationship does the caretaker have to the disabled person? How do they feel about one another?

Is the disabled character being portrayed as a burden to the non-disabled character(s)?

My advice would be that the negative feelings experienced by your caretaker character should not be directed towards the disabled person in their care. The disabled character should not be framed by your story as a burden to your caretaker character by virtue of requiring care. Caretaking can be incredibly difficult and thankless, but some of us have no choice but to rely on caretakers and shouldn't be blamed for that.

That isn't to say that your caretaker character can never experience fatigue or burnout--but consider where the character directs those emotions.

In text, you can have your character:

Feel frustration and anger towards living in an ableist society that sequesters disabled people and often leaves us solely reliant on caretakers, when care responsibilities should ideally be more holistic and collective.

Wish that caretakers had more financial, physical and material support to make their responsibilities easier. You can have them lament that other characters in their life don't see their caretaking as genuine labour, or won't accommodate their caretaking responsibilities (e.g. medication, hygiene or feeding schedules).

Grieve whatever the relationship dynamic had been before they became a caretaker, depending on their relationship to the disabled character and whether the disability is acquired or congenital, and working through those emotions.

Access mental health supports and talk to other caretakers about their struggles, or ask caretakers and other disabled characters for advice on making their responsibilities easier for both them and the disabled person in their care.

Talk out any sticking points with the disabled person in their care and have them both confide in one another, and have your caretaker character reaffirm their commitment to the disabled character not just because they have to, but because they choose to.

Negotiate arrangements for others to temporarily manage the disabled character's care if they need to take a break due to burnout (following prior discussion with and consent from your disabled character).

I would strongly, strongly recommend that, if nothing else, you don't make the caretaker character consider leaving the disabled person because they are too much work and they don't want to be a caretaker anymore. Instead, your character might condemn abled people who have abandoned their disabled loved ones in need of care. Again, your character can resent the situation they've been put into by the way caretaking is structured and treated in ableist society, but they should never resent the disabled character for requiring care.

Remember that if your caretaker character is getting depressed, chances are that so is the disabled person in their care. We notice what our caretakers are feeling when they're with us. It doesn't feel good to know that our caretakers are exhausted when we have no choice but to rely on them and there's little we can do to ease their responsibilities. We often worry about whether our caretakers resent us for our care needs, and if they're visibly frustrated or exhausted, that fear skyrockets. This isn't to say you should never depict your character visibly upset, but it shouldn't go unacknowledged by your disabled character.

Disabled people in need of care are told that we are burdens and more work than we're worth, but I encourage anyone depicting caretaking to recognize that we make sacrifices too. We often weigh what we do or don't absolutely need in order to ease our caretakers' jobs a bit, but that can also harm us if all we're getting are the absolute bare necessities for survival (for example, if my caretakers are busy and I need to eat but am bedbound, I might choose to go hungry for longer than I should). Caretaking is always a two-way relationship, and both of these characters should be fully fleshed out and three-dimensional. Your disabled character in care should be making their own decisions and asserting themselves when needed.

My last piece of advice--and this ultimately depends on the genre and type of story you want to tell--would be to encourage you to depict joy wherever you can. Disabled people are worthy of not just care but genuine love and affection, and I would love to see more depictions of strong emotional bonds between disabled people and our caretakers. For those of us whose caretakers are loved ones, they should care for us out of love because they want to see us happy and as healthy as possible. There's a lot of grief and depression depicted already in media that revolves around disability, but we could always use more disabled joy.

Thanks again for your question and best of luck writing!

Additional input from disabled people with caretakers is more than welcome :)

-Mod Faelan

[butch-reidentified]

a type of femininity that is subversive to a degree and specifically is NOT appealing to straight men ] gyn wake tf up there is no such thing youre underestimating the scope of the male gaze

Do you genuinely not understand the nuance in what I was referring to there, or do I really need to break down for you what this statement actually meant? This just comes off kinda disingenuous to me tbth.

Honestly, just a general note to everyone: if you're gonna send me these types of asks in this self-righteous, condescending, semi-aggressive tone, while entirely missing the point & context of my original post... just don't. There's nothing feminist about unprovoked hostility towards other women, and there's certainly no reason or need for hostility in addressing this matter either.

Anon: I am not "underestimating the scope of the male gaze," you are simply removing the context here. Why exactly do you think I said "to a degree?" I am very much aware that the male gaze encompasses all things female - including women who are extremely gnc.

Here is the full paragraph you referenced:

To me, femme identity should be about a type of femininity that is subversive to a degree and specifically is NOT appealing to straight men. It should be more like 《I have intentionally worked through and unlearned much of my performative femininity, but find that I really do like x, y, and z stereotypically feminine things. However, I also refuse to participate in harmful, anti-woman activities like spending a fortune on "anti-aging" products, cosmetic surgery, diet culture, makeup, silencing myself, etc.》

Not participating in any of those things is a pretty significant turn off for most het men, and very few het men will be so turned on by your enthusiasm for hosting dinner parties and crocheting that they'll overlook your refusal to perform aesthetic femininity as expected.

I described my wife as an example there. What part of her day to day appearance is appealing to the average straight male? The "femininity" of her appearance ends at "long hair." She just doesn't really display femininity outwardly. As I described in that post:

My wife doesn't wear makeup or dresses or heels or do up her hair or remove her body hair. She isn't quiet or submissive or weak or delicate. She actually has a black belt and used to teach women's self defense - unpaid on a volunteer basis.

Her standard look is pants or jeans, t-shirt, comfy shoes, no makeup, no perfume, hairy legs and armpits, etc. What I did say is that she enjoys "x, y, and z conventionally 'feminine' things." Those things are not appearance-related. They're personal interests (ie hobbies) which men don't get to see because men don't get a view into our private home and lives. None of these things are performed *for* men, which is what I clearly meant by that statement.

Men will fetishize and lust after absolutely anything a woman is or does, so what is your point here exactly? There are straight men who fetishize the most gnc women they can find. Some even fetishize TIFs who have been on hormones and grown a beard. None of us can escape the male gaze, but the majority of straight men are still disgusted by gender nonconformity in women's appearances, even if she has long hair. Hell, I've had a handful of OSA friends who do wear makeup and skirts and heels and style their hair and paint their nails, but don't shave their body hair, and most men are pretty quick to reject them for that alone.

When we all know the scope of the male gaze is all-encompassing, I figured it would be apparent to anyone reading that post that that bit was about the average/majority of hetero men, and finding ways to enjoy your conventionally feminine interests without drawing male attention. This as opposed to the thread I was responding to, which described femmes as entirely physically gender conforming & appealing to the (average) male preferences.

[artfightdramaconfessions]

/post/690323419270643712/

Re: the notes, I conversely think its WAY more effort to study up for hours (and maybe even years, for people who go to college for it) on the anatomy of a car or hand or wheelchair and the nuances of those items. This is a free event, unpaid, (unmoderated), for both amateurs and professionals. If I wanted to draw a prop bird that looks slightly better than the ones I usually draw, I don’t want to be spending the time learning what every feather looks like for a free piece that may be only looked at once, and I’m not gonna be drawing a bird that detailed again. Because that’s not something I want to do for work, and maybe I just liked this character enough to want to do it justice and a bad bird would ruin it. IDK.. I don’t think studying should be a criteria for art unless you want to be professional about it, and this event is mostly for kids anyway. I’m 22, most of my art looks like theirs and I really don’t want to put effort learning what muscle shows up when you flex where. I’ll give credit where I got it, or openly talk about what open sourced thing I got my reference from, or admit I asked my gf to take an awkward picture of me if you want to know that, but what I do to give better art to specific characters is none of your business. Sorry not sorry.

[remoteviewersdivision]

I could’ve sworn I read a really good post this morning about the vague (and likely unintentional) hints of canon support for jean/judit and the potential for character exploration through that dynamic. I guess OP deleted it, but while I’m thinking about it, I want to add (to this nonexistent post) that I think their canon dynamic supports the interpretation that Jean is at least slightly less shitty than your average RCM officer when he’s not melting down about the Harry situation.

I’ve seen a few posts recently about how liking Jean is a sign of “poor media literacy” and shipping him with Judit is somehow disrespectful to her character and also women in general, and I just... don’t get it. Yes, he’s being an ass to Harry and it’s debatable how much of that is justified. And yes, he stole mustard from a hobo once, and he apparently hates sensitivity training, and he uses some crass language to describe Dora. He’s, at best, kind of a dick who could benefit from some serious therapy and I think we all understand that.

But I really don’t understand some folks’ insistence that Jean is actually an unrepentant misogynistic asshole and any attempt to portray him as even remotely nuanced or likable is just woobification. Look, I don’t know about you, but I would also hate sensitivity training if I had to (repeatedly) take time away from my soul-crushing workload, thus necessitating more unpaid overtime, to sit through a presentation that I know is going to fall on deaf ears. Jean explicitly denounces “male-centric workplace humor” in canon and doesn’t seem to take issue with a subordinate female officer chastising him and addressing him by his first name or a nickname instead of his rank in mixed company. One could also argue that he’s so vulgar about Dora because he’s parroting Harry’s own words back at him, though of course that’s just speculation.

I’m not saying Jean’s a feminist icon or anything, but he’s generally polite and respectful to people who aren’t Harry and I genuinely can’t understand why some folks are so willing to die on the hill that he’s a one-dimensional, unredeemable piece of shit. And like, on the shipping front... sure, he sucks, but look at Judit’s other options: Half a husband, fortunately deceased ex-partner who even Harry thought was a terrible person, dude who shamelessly objectifies women at work and brushes his teeth fortnightly, and a zillion other immature and/or murderous casual misogynists.

All I’m saying is, she could do worse than Jean.

[star-trekkin-across-theuniverse]

Worthy, pt 1 & 2

I stopped and stared up at the building in front of me. Imposing, huge, and a beacon for anyone concerned with clean energy. I had won the internship at Stark Industries research and development division by working my ass off all year, coming up with innovative and exciting ways to utilize the arc reactor technology. I’d been interviewed by Mr. Stark himself when it came time to award the position. I’d never been so excited to work in an unpaid position in my life. It was made all the better by being in New York City. And even more awesome because accommodation was provided in the tower. Even if the internship didn’t lead to permanent employment at Stark Industries after my sojourn there, it would be a resume jackpot. 

I stopped at the main security desk and picked up my passcard. Elizabeth Carmichael. It sounded much more glamourous than Ella did, but I’d never been called Elizabeth in my entire life. Always Ella, except from my Nan, who called me Bethy. I clipped the tag on my blouse and headed to the elevator. The email from the HR department had been clear: pick up your passcard, and report to the main office of R&D on the 55th floor. I pressed the button and waited for the elevator to close. A hand reached in to stop the door and Mr. Stark stepped in. He smiled, like he would to anyone he shared the elevator with, and then his eyes narrowed as he read my nametag.

“Ms. Carmichael! You’ve made it to the city then? Where are your bags? Are you not staying on site?” He spoke so fast I could barely follow him.

“My flight arrived late last night. I thought I would stay at a hotel overnight and then get organized to move into my room, sir.” I felt breathless just trying to keep up with his speech, and rushed through my own explanation.

“We’ll send someone to collect your things. We’re having a little social in the lounge tonight; you don’t want to miss it. Good networking opportunities. There are three of you that earned internships. Pepper was particularly excited about you. Not a lot of women in STEM, you know. So we’re having a meet and greet for the three of you. Mostly Stark staff, but there'll be some others in attendance. Angela will get you organized.” There was even information stored in the nuances of how he spoke. It was going to be overwhelming until I got used to it. If I got the chance to get used to it. This elevator interaction might be the last time I saw Mr. Stark for the rest of the summer. The elevator doors opened, and I stepped out into the bright, clean research and development administrative office. I waited at the desk while the woman sitting there was on a call. Her nameplate said Angela, so I suspected she was who Mr. Stark said would organize me.

“Ella, right?” She swivelled her chair to face me. I nodded. “I’ve already contacted the concierge at your hotel to have your belongings sent over. I’ll show you to your rooms at the end of your orientation and tour. Then you can get settled.”

“I won’t be working?” I was surprised.

“Not today. Today is all about the Stark Industries machine and how you fit into it. So orientation to the labs, meet some of the people you’ll be working under, settling into your suite and figuring out your way around. There’s a meet and greet tonight.” She typed something into her computer and then rose. Without waiting for me, she headed off down a hallway. “This is the administrative floor for Research and Development. R&D takes twenty floors here, from 55 to 75. Starting at the 76th floor, the Avengers Tower begins, and you’ll only end up there if Mr. Stark wants to meet with you. Well, and for the mixer tonight. The 56th and 57th floors are all housing. Our guest scientists are housed on 56 and your suite is on 57. The project you’ve been assigned to is an offshoot of the household arc reactor project, and will allow you to work on one of your proposals. That division is on 60 through 65. Your direct supervisor is Markus Reid.” I scrambled to scribble notes and keep up with her and she led me through a maze of hallways and offices. We finally came to a halt and I was so busy scratching notes into my notebook that I bumped into her.

“Oh, god. Sorry,” I apologized. She smiled and shook her head.

“Relax, Ella. You were the top candidate. Your proposals rocked Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts' socks off. You belong here,” she reassured me. “And I’m going to email all this info to you, so you can put away your notebook.”

“Thanks. I’m feeling a bit small right now,” I admitted.

“The first few days are very overwhelming for every Stark Industries employee. It’s why we schedule nothing work-related on the first day.” She knocked on a door and hesitated just a second before opening it. “I have Elizabeth Carmichael here to sign some paperwork.” She led me into the office, and sat in a chair near the door after pointing to a chair at the desk. Another woman smiled and dropped a sheaf of paper in front of me.

“The bottom half of that is the paperwork for you that explains everything in the top half. But this is a basic non-disclosure agreement. The second one is the follow up to the initial waiver you signed when you applied for the internship, giving proprietary rights to Stark Industries, while maintaining your intellectual property, authorship and development rights. That basically means if what you’re working on goes into production, it will be a Stark Industries product, but you will be credited as the inventor. There’s some tax paperwork and a release for your university.” The woman handed me a pen. I looked up at her while I tried to process everything she’d explained.

“Tax paperwork?”

“For your pay.”

“Oh, I’m here for the internship. I’m not paid.” I thought that would be clear to an HR person.

“No, Mr. Stark pays his interns. It makes the transition when you are hired easier,” she explained.

“What?”

“Did you not read your acceptance package?” She gave me a look that suggested she thought I might be stupid.

“I did. It suggested that if Stark Industries was happy with my performance, I could be offered an extension at the end of the internship, provided my degree was complete.” At least, that’s what I’d understood from reading it.

“And you’ve already provided transcripts showing you’ve finished both your bachelor’s and master’s degrees. There were only three internships offered, Ms. Carmichael. We complete all your paperwork now with the assumption that you will be staying on at Stark Industries. If you’ve passed our rigorous application process, we feel you are a keeper. If you choose not to stay, it will be because you chose not to stay,” She explained. I felt like the wind had been knocked out of me. I knew the internship was prestigious, but I didn’t realize exactly how incredible it was.

“Oh. Well. In that case,” I said and scratched my signature across the papers in front of me. She offered her hand. I stood and shook it.

“Welcome to Stark Industries, Ms. Carmichael.”

XXX

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Angela assured me that her email would include maps, and secret notes and tidbits that would help me remember everything, but I was so floored from the words of the HR person that I really couldn’t focus. Angela led me to the commissary for lunch and ordered for both of us. I didn’t even realize until she handed me a tray with food on it.

“Are you going to be okay?” She asked. I gave my head a little shake to snap back to reality and smiled in apology.

“Sorry. I’m feeling even more overwhelmed than I was when I got out of the cab this morning,” I laughed. She took a seat at a table and nodded for me to sit across from her.

“You should give yourself some credit. You earned your place here. Pepper is really excited about having you. I suspect you’ll be the poster child for gender equality at Stark Industries for some time to come. As soon as you won that internship, your place here was secured. Probably for life,” she grinned. I shook my head.

“What if I’m a dud?”

“You aren’t though. Mr. Stark himself thoroughly vetted your application, and Pepper went through your references with a fine tooth comb. She even tracked down extra references. You deserve this more than anyone who’s ever applied before, Ella.”

“I feel like I might be sick,” I groaned. It was her turn to shake her head.

“It’s first day jitters. Once you’ve settled into a routine and have your nose into all that sciencey stuff you do, it’ll all blow over,” She laughed. I didn’t want to pick a fight so I just focussed on my lunch.

XXX

My suite was ridiculous. I’d understood we’d be provided with a room. In my mind, I had thought dormitory style, like at university. I was quickly learning Tony Stark did nothing by halves. I had a suite. First of all, the whole thing was fully furnished. The master bedroom had the biggest bed I’d ever seen in it, and an ensuite bathroom with a shower bigger than my last dorm room. There was a second bedroom, I’m not sure why. Plus an office, an open floor plan living room and kitchen and a main bathroom. There was a storage closet that I’m pretty sure could have kept a small family comfortable. And a deck with a view of the city. I opened the fridge and discovered it had been fully stocked already. I grabbed a bottle of water and stood at the counter, the overwhelming feeling of just too much washing across me again. There was a bound book on the counter, and when I flipped through it, I realized it was a Stark Tower lifestyle guide, with information about the pool, the gym, the on-site movie theatre, the commissary, and on and on. There was a tablet on the wall that allowed you to order in take-away or groceries. Housekeeping was once a week. I pinched myself to make sure it wasn’t a dream, fully expecting to awaken back in the dorm room at the university. But I didn’t.

I unpacked my bags and checked my email for the details on the get together. Casual evening wear. What was that, even? I grabbed my phone and texted Angela. Whether she liked it or not, she was my new bestie. 

“What does casual evening wear mean?”

“Nothing too fancy. Knee length dress is more appropriate than floor length.”

“I’ve been in university for the last nine years. I have nothing even remotely appropriate.”

“I’m on it. I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

XXX

“I’m sorry, Angela, I just didn’t know who else to ask.” I felt like all I was doing was apologizing to her. She laughed.

“You’re my assignment for the next few weeks. And you are so much nicer than the last new hire I was paired with. I can see actually wanting to spend time with you,” she laughed.

“Really? You’re my personal person?” I arched an eyebrow. She laughed again.

“Something like that. Human Resources likes to pair someone from admin to new hires as an orientation guide. It’s a pretty awesome job, to be honest. I get to meet most of the new people on their way in the door. Make lots of new friends. Meet lots of cute science nerd guys.” She winked. I laughed.

“And yet you don’t mind being assigned me. I must be very special indeed,” I teased.

“You’re little lost puppy eyes sucked me right in,” she giggled. “Come on, let’s get you a dress.” It felt like she dragged me all over town, but the truth was, we didn’t go far, and we only visited a couple of stores. I tried on everything she brought to me, and let her tell me what looked best. I was most comfortable in jeans, a t-shirt and a lab coat, so I trusted her judgement. We were a whirlwind of activity after picking the dress. She steered me over to a shoe store, and then a make-up store. I didn’t even realize there was such a thing as a make-up store. I only kept mascara in my bathroom because my eyelashes were so light you couldn’t see them without a bit of mascara on them. 

When we finally got back to the building, I wanted nothing more than to take a nap. Angela shooed me into the shower and ordered us some dinner instead. She helped me with my hair and then sat me down to eat.

“Do you wear contacts ever?” She asked. I pushed my glasses up my nose and shook my head.

“No, they don’t make contacts for eyes like mine,” I admitted.

“Okay. I can work with that,” she looked at me thoughtfully and chewed on her pizza. Before I knew it, she was rearranging my hair, and applying make-up and amazingly, although I’d honestly never thought I’d enjoy the fuss that went along with dressing up, I did enjoy myself. It helped that Angela kept a running commentary of exclamations about how pretty I was, and how nice my eyes were. I never had thought there was anything particularly special about my brown hair and brown eyes. I changed my mind when Angela let me look in the mirror. My hair was loose and wavy, and cascaded over my shoulders. The red dress she’d found for me highlighted that my hair was more than one shade of brown, and brought out the natural glow in my cheeks. My eyes, despite being framed behind my glasses, looked big and sparkly.

“Wow.”

“You’ll have half the R&D guys begging for your number by the end of the night!” Angela laughed. I blushed.

“I don’t know about that,” I protested. She laughed again.

“Come on. I’ll be your wingman.” She linked arms with me and led me out the door and to the elevator. XXX

The crushing feeling of inadequacy hit me again as the elevator opened up to let us out into the cocktail party. I hesitated at the gap between the elevator and the large, noisy room. Angela gave me a gentle nudge, but I froze, taking in the panorama in front of me. Almost every scientist I’d ever quoted in any of my research was standing in that room, mingling with one another. When Tony Stark isn’t the biggest name in a room, it can make you pause. I’m pretty sure I recognized the most recent recipient of the Nobel Prize in physics standing by the bar. And Dr. Banner was lingering near the door to the patio and pool deck, looking exceptionally uncomfortable. At least he was near an exit where he could cool off and relax if he needed to. His research was what drove me into the sciences. In the end, I decided gamma radiation wasn’t really the area I was passionate about, and pursued research that put me in Stark’s path. But he was still kinda my hero. 

“If you don’t step off this elevator right now, I’m going to push you off, and then you’ll draw a lot more attention to yourself than if you act like a normal person.” Angela had my number already. I stepped into the party tentatively. Angela steered me straight to the bar. “Let’s get a drink into you, loosen you up a little. These people have all been where you are, Ella. What’s your poison?”

“Vodka, rocks.” My eyes were glued to the room, and I just kept recognizing more and more people. Surely they all didn’t work for Stark Industries. I would have noticed that at some point during my application process. Mr. Stark and Ms. Potts saw me as Angela handed me my drink. Ms. Potts smiled in welcome and headed straight to me. I didn’t have time to panic.

“Ms. Carmichael! I’m so pleased to see you. You look a bit like a canary in a room of cats. Don’t. They’re all harmless. And some of them are very excited to discuss your proposals with you,” she took my hand and squeezed it familiarly. It was not at all like my boss was shaking my hand, but more like a friend greeting me.

“It’s nice to see you again, Ms. Potts.” I managed, and took a sip from my glass. 

“Please, Pepper is fine. We’ll reserve the formality for press releases,” she smiled. “Are you settling into your rooms?”

“I am. They’re much more than I was expecting. Everything about this internship is more than I was expecting,” I blurted. I was nervous enough that I took a perhaps-larger-than-it-should-have-been swallow from my glass and nearly choked.

“We’re so pleased you accepted, Ms. Carmichael,” Pepper gushed. “Really. I’m sure Angela has filled you in about the women in STEM initiative Stark Industries is backing.”

“If I’m going to call you Pepper, you’re going to have to call me Ella. Angela mentioned a little about it, but I didn’t realize there was an entire initiative.” The combination of vodka and talking shop with Pepper was starting to ease my nerves, and I could feel the tension starting to melt from my shoulders.

“We’re starting summer and weekend science and technology camps for girls. I’m hoping you’ll be able to find some time to work with me on promoting them. I think Angela has scheduled a meeting for us sometime in the next few days,” she explained. 

“That would be really cool.” I took another sip. There wasn’t much left in my glass. I was going to need to slow down. Mr. Stark was watching the crowd, but I could tell that his head was in our conversation.

“I hope you’ll come out of your shell a little, Ms. Carmichael. You were vibrant during the interview process. I hope that wasn’t a one-off. It’ll be hard to sell STEM as cool with a mousy science nerd girl as the PR star.” He was suddenly back in the conversation full force. I flushed.

“Tony! It’s first-day nerves. We can’t all be the shiniest constellation in the sky all the time,” Pepper scolded him. “Don’t pay attention to him, Ella. Parties bring out the worst of his quirks.” The way she said it, I could almost see the air-quotes hanging in the air around the word quirks. I smiled.

“I promise you, Mr. Stark. I can be just as shiny as you need me to be when surrounded by young women. It’s when I’m in the presence of the likes of Dr. Banner and Dr. McCoy that I tend to get star-struck. And I think, did I see Reed Richards?” I found my voice. Mr. Stark smiled.

“Since we’re all making friends, you may as well call me Tony,” he allowed. “I make sure my best and brightest get a chance to meet the best and brightest.”

“As much as I appreciate the opportunity, it’s just a little overwhelming.” I felt it was only fair to be honest with them, since they were my employers. Pepper squeezed my hand again.

“I have no doubt, after speaking to your references, that you will be everything that we are looking for, Ella,” she reassured me. I took another sip from my glass, and Tony suddenly noticed it in my hand.

“Please tell me that’s not water. We have a strict no water at parties rule here at Stark Industries.” Mr. Stark took my glass away and finished what was left. He coughed and handed it back. “Oh, I think you’re going to fit in here quite well, Mouse.” Angela took the glass from me and got a fresh one from the bar. I reminded myself to go slow. There was no point in getting drunk in front of such an auspicious crowd on my first day.

Angela led me around to a number of people I would be working with, including my direct supervisor, Markus Reid. He shook my hand with enthusiasm and launched into a long-winded explanation of my project and how it would fit in with his project. I found myself lingering with him for longer than was probably necessary. He was passionate about his work with the arc reactor technology and he reminded me of my thesis supervisor, ready to help and happy to share whatever advances he had discovered. It was the lynchpin in making me settle for the evening. If my supervisor was excited to have me, no one else really mattered. Angela’s face lit up and she excused me from the conversation. 

“Shut up. You are not going to believe this. I have someone to introduce to you!” She exclaimed. I followed her as she led me across the lounge and toward the windows overlooking the outside deck. I couldn’t figure out who she wanted me to meet, but the last person who’d been near where we were headed was Dr. Banner, and I was sure she’d seen him earlier. She slowed to a more dignified walk and led me to Dr. Banner. He was chatting with a petite brunette who looked familiar, but I couldn’t quite place her. Dr. Banner looked up and acknowledged Angela as he finished what he was saying to the other woman.

“Angela, you always walk with such purpose.” His tone was warm, and he gripped her hand with both of his. It was obvious from Angela’s relaxed posture that they’d worked with each other a few times.

“Comes with the job. This is Elizabeth Carmichael, one of the new interns here at Stark,” she introduced me. “Ella, this is Bruce Banner.” She paused and turned toward the woman. “And if I’m not mistaken, this is Dr. Jane Foster?”  Dr. Banner shook my hand and nodded toward Dr. Foster.

“So pleased to meet you, Dr. Banner. It was your work that led me into the sciences.” I tried not to gush. I don’t think I was successful.

“Really? My understanding was that physics and engineering were your specialties,” he asked. My heart nearly stopped. He knew my areas of study. My science geek girl idol knew my specialties.

“I got really into green energy during my undergrad studies, and my focus switched,” I admitted.

“And my accident had nothing to do with that?” He raised an eyebrow. I laughed and realized that might not have been the best response. I bit back my smile and shook my head.

“Actually, no. Your accident happened when I was in first year, and I stuck with my studies as a minor. It was when it was time to begin my master’s that I felt I could do more good, with my level of knowledge, if I pursued green energy,” I explained. He looked thoughtful.

“And once again, Bruce, I point out that your accident has significantly less effect on the opinions of others than you think,” Dr. Foster jumped in, and offered her hand. I shook it. “Such a pleasure to meet you, Ella. Tony has been beside himself with excitement about your thesis. I think the other two interns might be getting the short end of the stick.”

“Except that there is no short end of the stick at Stark,” Banner argued. Dr. Foster laughed and nodded.

“It’s so true. I wish these internships had existed when I was struggling for funding.” she looked past my shoulder, distracted. I turned and followed her gaze until it lit on the most beautiful man I think I’d ever seen. He was tall, and blond, and broad, with a big smile and an equally large laugh. And from the way Dr. Foster was looking at him, I realized he must be Thor. “I didn’t realize he was going to be here.” The smile fell from her face.

“I’m sorry, Jane, I had no idea. Why would he be here? He’s not one of you sciencey types,” Angela apologized. Dr. Foster turned to me and shook my hand again.

“It was truly lovely to meet you, Ella. I look forward to watching your project. If you ever need anything, Angela can get you in touch with me. Even if it’s just a woman-to-woman bitchfest. We STEM ladies need to stick together.” She excused herself and made her way quickly to the elevator. Angela and I watched her as the elevator doors closed. I was disappointed, but turned back to Dr. Banner. He opened his mouth to say something, but was cut off by Thor stepping up to us.

“Banner, my friend! It has been too long since we’ve met. You look well!” Everything about Thor was big. He pulled Dr. Banner into one of those one-armed-man-hugs, his massive arms straining against the confines of his t-shirt. He towered over both of us. He released Dr. Banner and turned to Angela and I. If I looked anything like Angela did, I was gawking like a slack-jawed idiot. I nudged her gently and she closed her mouth.

“Ladies, it is well to make your acquaintance. I am Thor, of Asgard,” he introduced, taking my hand and kissing my knuckles. I raised an eyebrow and glanced at Angela.

“Ella Carmichael.” I couldn’t form any other words. There was just so much of him, and it was so close. I was completely star-struck in a way I’d never been about a fellow scientist. He took Angela’s hand.

“Angela Benett,” she breathed. I was so glad I wasn’t the only one on the verge of swooning. The man was truly a specimen. Banner cleared his throat, and I snapped my attention back over to the man who had arguably been the first crush of my science geeky heart.

“What brings you here, Thor?” he asked. Thor turned back to him and smiled his ridiculous, large, beautiful smile.

“I had need to speak to Tony. I’d not realized it was a celebration, or I would have come tomorrow. Twas not urgent,” he explained. “And I am afraid I have chased Jane from her colleagues.” There was regret in his tone. Things were obviously over with them, not merely bumpy or awkward. 

“He said twas,” I whispered to Angela. She stifled a giggle. I’m not sure why it was so amusing, other than that I had finished my second vodka. I’m not sure what her excuse was; I knew she hadn’t been drinking. “I hope we’ll get a chance to talk more about what you’re studying now, Dr. Banner.” I had to excuse myself before I made an idiot of myself in front of Dr. Banner and Thor. Angela followed me to the deck. I stretched out on a deck chair and looked up at the sky. Stark Tower was so high that it seemed to be above the smog of the city. There was still loads of light pollution, but I was reassured that the stars were the same in New York City as they were at home in Washington. We sat quietly for a few minutes.

“Thanks for being my sidekick, Angela,” I sighed. “I don’t know if I’d have made it through the afternoon, let alone this evening, without your assistance.”

“Well, like I said, it’s my job. But paycheque aside, you’re alright, Ella,” she chuckled.

“I’m glad you think so. I don’t know if I can afford Stark wages to keep you as a friend.” Across the deck something caught my eye, and I slipped off my shoes to walk over to it. Angela must have seen it too because she followed curiously. It was the biggest damn hammer I’ve ever seen in my life, just sitting on a low table beside the pool. It was fancy, tooled with knotwork. I ran my hand over it. I wasn’t sure what it was made of. It had the warm feel of vibranium, but it almost seemed to hum under my hand. I slid my hand up the leather wrapped handle. The grip was comfortable. I squeezed the handle, and felt the give of the leather wrap against my hand.

“I don’t know if you should be playing with that, Ella,” Angela warned.

“What do you suppose it is? It feels like it’s got more of a purpose than just a giant paperweight, or decoration,” I thought out loud, flexing my fingers along the handle. It felt like it needed to be held. I might not be describing that properly, but it was almost like it spoke to me. Which clearly suggested I’d had too much to drink.

“I haven’t seen it before, but I don’t get up into this part of the tower much. Is it heavy? Maybe it’s a prop or a prototype or some sort,” Angela shrugged. I adjusted my grip on the handle and prepared myself to lift it, assuming it would be ridiculously heavy. I was surprised when after a slight tug of resistance, I was able to heft the thing in the air. The air around us crackled with static, and suddenly a shock ran through my body, from the hand that was holding the hammer through to my feet.  Everything around me slowed down, almost like slow motion in the movies. I looked up at Angela and saw Thor and Dr. Banner running towards us over her shoulder. Thor was reaching out, his mouth forming some kind of words, but I couldn’t hear them. I felt the hammer tug out of my hand and it flew away from me. The electricity left my body and I collapsed on the pool deck.

“What the actual fuck?” I muttered before blackness overtook my thoughts.

[pumpkinpaix]

You and all the other folks coming forward to discuss the nuances of Chinese language and culture are doing Heaven’s work, and as an unpaid favor; thank you (and I’m sorry. Historically, my people‘s answer to the question “What could be more sinister than damned Wens?” has been “Hold our beer”; MDZS has powerfully moved me to an extent I’m hard put to express, and I’m working on how not to inhabit a fandom I love as a cultural predator.)

hi there!! thank you so much for saying that to me. 💛 honestly, a lot of it is also selfishly motivated--I never had a large english-speaking fandom for chinese media when I was growing up, so this is actually like! very cool! engagement in this fandom has helped me improve my own chinese (both language and cultural knowledge) way more in like one year than I’ve managed for the last two decades or so. and trying to explain and share knowledge, both old and new, is, i find, the best way to retain it. it’s also showing me how much of my life experience i take for granted, and how much I have yet to learn (spoilers: it’s a lot, rip). in terms of self-actualization, that’s been great for me 😆

as much as this fandom tests me every day (pour one out), remembering and seeing that there are people who are interested in learning and understanding is really wonderful! for all that im chary of interacting with non-chinese in a chinese-source space, what I really do want to strive for is cross-cultural exchange rather than identity atomization.

i had a friend once many years ago (who i think still follows me here! i see him around sometimes. if you recognize yourself, give me wave ;)) who asked me how i learned more about social injustice etc. and I said, idk man, I just kinda osmosed it over time by like, being on tumblr? (forgive me, lmfao, and don’t worry, I do learn in other ways as well thank god) and he said to me, I don’t want to spend time in an abusive learning environment.

I think about that a lot in the context of identity politics and social injustice etc. and how I’ve seen patterns of behavior and thought change over my what, 13 years on the internet? but he has a point--there is a viciousness to these spaces, even to people who are honestly trying. i get that it’s not anyone’s job to make things comfortable, and that tone-policing is insidious, but I also think there is a lot to be said for approaching interactions with some gentleness, because that’s how I would like to be treated when trying to learn. (that isn’t to say i don’t sometimes just go oh holy fuck what the fuck my soul is leaving my body--i do. like. every day. LMFAO. but i try not to let that kind of attitude leach into my actions. :’))

well this derailed a little (wow, shocker), but the point is, the POINT is--i don’t consider it an unpaid favor, since it’s also greatly to my own benefit, and I’m certainly no expert. (not to say it isn’t work--it’s definitely work lol) but I really do appreciate earnest attempts to learn and engage, even if those attempts come with mistakes and false steps. so thank you!! i’m so happy to hear i’ve helped you in some way in that process, however small!!!! thank you!!!!

[aseriesofunfortunatejan]

I will be using this queued reblog as a bump, but I would also like opinions on this: does anyone have suggestions of services I can offer other than my icon commissions, when time allows it?

The following are what is possible for me - but I don't know if there'd be any interest in it:

Icon/portrait commissions (already in action when I'm available)

Vocal synth specific art commissions. While I don't think it would make sense for me to offer more than just icons for the most part, I feel a lot of hype about vocal synth songs, covers and characters. It might be easier for me to draw a commission for someone's "original art imitation" VOCALOID cover or anything to do with creating in the vsynth space in general. This would not include "plain" fanart of someone's fave commercial vocal synth character, but could include someone's UTAU. I do not know if there'd be any interest in what I can offer for this.

ENG -> FRA and FRA -> ENG translations. I'm a native French speaker and my English is qualified at C2 level. I have been practicing translating as a volunteer and amateur for roughly 6 years, which means I'm familiarised with the nuance that involves localising tone and vocabulary beyond just "being someone who speaks both languages". (This could involve vocal synth but would not need to be limited to it.) I do not believe anyone has ever expressed an interest in this as a service from me.

Writing commissions (FRA or ENG). I tried to do writing requests some time ago, and while I wrote some fun stuff, I don't believe they gathered a lot of interest. That being said, I am passionate about writing and believe in my ability to write something solid.

Simple design work (including graphics and HTML/CSS). Inspired by my actual ass (unpaid) job. I have an artistic background and I am familiarised with accessibility standards. I don't know if this is something anyone online would be interested in.

I would genuinely like to gather opinions on the plausibility of these options or on other possible options I may have missed.

Please let me know if you'd be interested (in the present or future) in one of these options, or if you're familiar with communities that practice any of those and think I'd have a leg to stand on!

Just as a reminder, if you ever wish to give me a small donation as a thank you for some of my contributions to a community you're in - or an opportunity to send a "fuck you" alongside 3€, that'd be pretty funny - I do have a Ko-fi!

(And if anyone knows how to get this embed to change to the "new" icon I've now had for years, I'd be interested as well.)

This is not something anyone should feel pressured to engage with - especially if you only know me for my Funny Reblogs and stream of thought posts! Since I'm currently working an unpaid apprenticeship and I don't have time to offer my usual icon commissions, it's probably better for me to mention it just in case, as someone who wishes to continue creating and volunteering online (｡･∀･)ﾉﾞ

[rpbetter]

Traditional Writing Advice & RP

I see a lot of people reblogging writing advice posts, and while it pleases me to see people trying to appreciate RP as writing, those pieces of advice don’t always translate from traditional writing to RP writing.

Following the advice for writing a traditional book manuscript you want to have published, you are going to run into some issues if you follow every point of it faithfully in an RP setting.

For one thing, this isn’t just your story, you’re telling it with another writer. In RP, our reading audience and our writing partners are the same. We have to create well-written, engaging stories that are also meant to be picked up by someone else and furthered. For another, even among the most writing proficient RPers, this is a more relaxed style of writing for a reason; we’re writing neither a paper to be graded nor a work to be published, we’re expressing creativity with other people. It can fall flat quickly, to your writing partners and to yourself, if you are writing in an extremely formal manner in RP.

Writing is one of the creative pursuits that has lent itself heavily to what I’m going to politely call snobbery, and that is part of the problem here. The RPC is rather filled with muns who are self-concious, devalue themselves and their work, and can be desperate for the approval of being A Real Writer. If you love writing and you do write, you’re a writer. No, that definitely doesn’t make you a good writer, but following rules not meant for you isn’t going to make you one either.

There is a wrong way to write, actually, there are hundreds of wrong ways to write that make me want to rip my own face off on the regular. The thing is, there is no one-size-fits-all correct way to write any more than there is such a standard in visual art. There are principles that one should know and follow, but your style might be neoclassical or modern or impressionist. Saying that, in my personal opinion, things falling under the heading of modern-style art is horrid, thus inherently wrong and not art, I’d be imposing my personal aesthetics instead of encouraging people to follow appropriate principles, run with their passion and skill, and make art that moves people who are not me. That’s important, in general, but it’s even more important when we’re talking about creative art as a hobby-as a legitimate passion project one isn’t obliged to devote themselves to.

That’s the way we need to be looking at writing as well. Not as an academic and absolute Right Way, but as an art form that has principles, and indeed, literal form. By insisting otherwise, we’ve damaged writing as a hobby and a profession, and it really shows in the RPC where you have a rather stark division of muns who, on the one side, are so ate up with bizarre concepts their professor threw out about never using “said,” forcing the ideology of their personal academic experience on others, and using traditional writing advice as Word of God to shame others and elevate themselves. On the other side, you have a ton of muns who just won’t even bother anymore, and why should they? They’re genuinely not up to par, but working on it means both a process of shaming and killing their own creative experience.

In saying all this, I want to be really clear here: I am in no way saying that shitty writing, an inability to follow basic grammatical principles, being unwilling to use the damn spellcheck that is standard everywhere, and having no concept of things like storytelling, characterization, and word flow is excusable or ideal. 

It isn’t. It’s a terribly destructive force in the RPC, and I’m not in the camp of excusing disinterest in learning, improving, and perfecting one’s hobby because it is an unpaid hobby. In my opinion, it’s part of the blight of the current RPC. However, the snobbery and inability to recognize that there is nuance to learning and writing situations has done nothing but worsen this issue.

So, that being said, some items that are 100% good to use traditionally and in RP include:

Grammar, spelling, and punctuation.

We’re not all native English speakers, and grammar is difficult anyway. It can also turn a story bland with expedience when too properly adhered to. Know the basic principles, but also, be asking yourself about both popular works of fiction and your own favorite works. Chances are, they do not strictly adhere to the rules. Experienced, naturally gifted, and learned writers all manipulate those rules to work for their stories, characters, world-building, and so on. It becomes a personalized writing style, and it’s alright if it takes you some practice to find yours.

Just remember, grammar exists for a reason. Removing or mutating too much will leave you with a difficult to read and understand mess that isn’t a style, just a fucking mess.

If you struggle with grammar, the best way to help yourself is to practice. Additionally, seeing what errors you are making can be quite helpful; Grammarly offers a free add on for both Google Chrome and FireFox that will show you spelling and grammar mistakes. It also explains the mistake, while offering you a suggested fix. This way, you can see the mistakes you’re making in action. {Presumably, there are other such resources, but since I have no experience with them, I’m not the one to recommend them.}

As I said above, spellcheckers are standard now, in fucking 2021. This has been standard on devices and browsers for so long that I highly doubt most people on tumblr even remember a time when you had to use additional software to have them.

You make a mistake or misspell, and if it isn’t corrected for you, it’s underlined very obviously for you to tap/click/float over to correct. If the word is so terribly misspelled that no suggestion comes up {not all spellcheckers are created equality; some do not recognize slang or relaxed spellings, archaic word use, myriad, particularly specialized jargon-legal, medical, technical-and so on}, we also live in a time period where we can highlight the word, right-click that bitch, and select from the menu the option to search for the word. If the word was so weirdly misspelled that your checker couldn’t figure it out, it is incredibly rare that Google doesn’t throw out the correct spelling when you search it. If the spelling was correct, but the word-use is slang, jargon, or archaic, Google is also going to tell you that-you’ve confirmed it is correct, and can now decide if you want to use it or pick a possible synonym for it instead.

There is no fucking excuse for egregiously misspelled words anymore. None. I mean...listen, I spell quite terribly myself, but no one reading my RP replies is ever going to know that fact. Having difficulty with spelling is not, and has not been for a very long time now, an impediment to writing.

Furthermore, we all miss a typo here and there, especially if we write lengthy novella. Those aren’t always going to be caught by spellcheck, and we might edit the reply five times without seeing it. That happens, it’s alright when it’s minimal! Anything other than that, though, it’s just a combination of rushing and laziness. You really couldn’t be assed to take your time with that reply, read it over at least once before posting, and/or to click the underlined word.

There. Is. No. Excuse.

Again, not all spellcheckers are the same. If you feel like yours is lacking, try an extension for your browser. Since I said it above, I obviously have Grammarly on my mine. My replies effectively go through three different checkers, actually. I write all drafts outside of my browser where it is initially checked by Pages, then, when I paste it into tumblr, it’s being checked natively and by Grammarly. It wasn’t my intention, I just wanted to be positive I was never losing a draft or cooking my ancient laptop with Google Docs. However, it’s been nice as hell to get the perspective of multiple checkers, and as such, I definitely recommend it. It isn’t like I’m putting any extra effort into this, and I’m not paying for Grammarly, either.

When you refuse to behoove yourselves of the spellchecker natively available to you, at least, you’re seriously telling your writing partners that they were not important enough for you to click a fucking word. It’s inexcusable.

Punctuation being nonexistent isn’t a writing style or aesthetic, neither is a refusal to capitalize anything. If never using a comma is part of your Aesthetic™, please, rethink your fucking life and the hobby you’ve chosen.

Punctuation is a part of grammar, and I understand that there can be complexities present that might be confusing. That is one of the reasons why you should bother to know the basics as regards when and how to use punctuation. It’s also another way in which telling people that they should adhere to advice meant for traditional and academic writing can be a shit idea. Especially in an RPC known to misunderstand shit and go overboard.

When you tell the RPC that writers use too many commas, the RPC stops using them all around. Especially, when you also attach this to the idea of evil “wordiness.” That’s something that the RPC is desperate to avoid anyway, as the majority of people here are allergic to reading and writing; anything you advise that lessens the word count for them is going to be grabbed and erroneously applied. Someone implies that wordiness and commas equals run-on sentences, and the RPC gets not only believes it, it gets this message, “if I take out the commas, it isn’t a run-on sentence.”

You have all fundamentally misunderstood what a god damned run-on sentence is. It’s not a long sentence, it isn’t a proliferation of commas. A run-on sentence is when two, or more, sentences that should be individual are conjoined without proper punctuation {a fucking comma, for example} or a coordinating conjunction.

Run-ons can be surprisingly short, in fact. As in the example I lifted from here, “I love to write papers I would write one every day if I had the time.“

That should be written with a comma, separated into two sentences, or broken with a comma and the conjunction “and.” It’s also what I see incessantly on my dash from this bizarre idea that we shouldn’t be using commas. That a run-on sentence is a very long one separated only by commas. That is literally not what a run-on sentence is.

You absolutely can use too many commas {if you want to read some examples of how to use commas, go here}, but I rarely see anyone doing so to such an extreme. The extreme being that a sentence becomes a nonsensical string of conjoined thoughts, ideas, and descriptions that could have been written better broken up into fully formed sentences. I sometimes see muns who go a little nuts with commas by putting them in wildly incorrect places in this way.

What I see constantly is either muns berating themselves for perfectly normal, readable sentence structure or muns reactively using no punctuation at all.

It is all legitimate run-on sentences or those made so short and blunt that they become nonsensical, change the tone of the writing, or have no flow together.

Which brings me to...

Sentence flow is a thing, and you should be doing it.

Unfortunately, this good writing advice tends to throw people. We’re not talking about the flow that needs to be present in academic sentence structure, or exactly the flow that is present in poetry. Though it may require practice to understand and apply well, it’s an incredibly simple concept.

You want to balance out shorter, blunter sentences with those that are longer and more flowing. It gives the text a pleasant, natural rhythm. However, it isn’t just about length, a thing that the RPC is weirdly fixated on. Rather, it’s about word use within those sentences as well.

It’s always important to write with a tone that works with your scene and, overall, with your muse. For example, in a tense, aggressive scene, or with a muse who is generally this way, it gets the message across to use short sentences and clipped words. We can feel the tension, annoyance, and threat.

Furthermore, the way your muse thinks about and uses words is relevant. A well-educated muse from the 1800′s isn’t going to have the same approach to words that a modern-day high school student does. You should be making that clear in the way they speak, but also, in the way you express their thoughts and actions. If you are only writing your muse’s personality and emotional tone when your muse is speaking, you’re not giving me the tone all the way through. It can feel like a marked delineation in flow.

However, you should be considering the overall flow of your writing as well. Did you just lay down back-to-back eloquently verbose sentences? If so, you may want to either follow them up or space them with a shorter sentence comprised of simpler words.

This is legitimately good writing advice for any manner of writing.

So is...

Show, don’t tell.

Which is another piece of advice that throws people when they try to make it more complex than necessary. That, and it grates up against the RPC’s need for short, quick writing. The idea that anything a mun gives you that your muse cannot react to verbally or with action is filler to be avoided. That idea comes from some principle advice that translates badly to RP; essentially, don’t wax poetic for three pages when it has nothing to do with the plot, characters, scene-setting elements, action, and so on. Don’t be Tolkien describing every tree and rock in excruciating detail on the way to destroy the One Ring, basically.

That isn’t fully appropriate advice in RP, where we’re having to write tiny chapters to each other to add onto. While it still has some merit, the RPC definitely has taken it to mean that you shouldn’t show anything. My muse’s private thoughts, emotions expressed and unexpressed, stirred-up memories, things they planned to say/do, but that were naturally interrupted by the flow of the thread all become Unnecessary. With...no mind to what they are showing and creating.

This particularly erodes writing muses as legitimate feeling people. As in the last example of what my muse intended to say or do that was interrupted. That’s a normal, human experience. It would be difficult and not enjoyable to read every instance of a muse’s broken thoughts and impulses or intentions, but giving one every so many replies in a natural feeling way keeps my muse presenting as a real person having a real person’s experience. Simple things like this go a long way toward your muse being “believable,” and by ignoring them or refusing to do them, you’re not making your muse very realistic. So much of the human experience is private, unknowable to outside parties.

Look...if you only knew me based upon a sterilized version of what I was saying to you or doing purely within the context of single interaction at a time, you wouldn’t know me at all. You’d have no idea what sort of nuance there is in my words, how I am expressing or withholding an opinion or emotion. I may not have any opinions, emotions, or other experiences that you are not contributing to. That’s very unrealistic, I’m not actually a person anymore. I haven’t any personality, I didn’t exist before you interacted with me.

That is the way it is with muses too. By stripping them of their internal experiences, we’re stripping them of more realistic feeling characterization. {It becomes, or adds to, a disastrous domino-effect of projected, cardboard stand-in style muses that are in no way a joy to interact with.} This is bad writing, makes for bad reading and interacting.

No one seems to understand show, don’t tell. Let me put it in a simple example: don’t tell me your muse is a good person, show me. Don’t tell me your muse is upset right now, show me.

Your muse has character traits you feel makes them A Good Person. They are compassionate, selfless, and genuinely interested in others. Don’t just leave that in the muse’s bio, or relegate it to statement-style lines like, “she cared deeply about others.” Show me these traits in action and thought. You don’t require anything dramatic to it, either. A muse like this should be a good listener, proceed with their love language in a way reflects personal involvement and a desire to comfort, be willing to sacrifice time and personal interests {don’t keep it to dramatic and literal self-sacrifice to show “selfless”}, legitimately doesn’t think of themselves first and foremost and may need reminding to care for themselves, and will be troubled by unfairness and cruelty in the world.

Your muse has been in a disagreement with a loved one, they’re not just “upset,” they are sad, angry, disappointed, and maybe even confused or surprised. While those are more descriptive and defining of the type of complex “upset” going on here, don’t leave it at these words. Don’t tell me that she said, angrily. Show me that she is having thoughts based on these emotions, actual emotional turmoil at her expectations of a loved one being devastated. Paint me a picture of the sadness in her features, the anger in her walk, how her words come out unpolished and jumbled in her surprise and turmoil.

This is what it means to show me, not tell me.

It also extends to scenes and recollections.

If your muse is happy sitting in her garden, don’t just tell me this. Show me why she is happy there, and define the sort of happiness in her thoughts, body language, voice, and expressions. Describe the aspects of the garden in tones of the happiness they bring, draw comparisons between this and her outward expression of joy with similar word use. It ties together both seamlessly in a way that we can relate to and feel, even if we hate the outdoors.

If this muse had a traumatic incident in her past, this is going to inconveniently come up, even if only in her mind. Don’t play coy about it and drop shit on your partners like, “she was thinking of things and stuff that was bad again.” No. Even if you are alluding or otherwise keeping the actual event secretive, you need to be describing how the muse is feeling, how she is experiencing the world around her through an overlay of upsetting reminders. Show me how she is having a visceral reaction to triggering stimuli while having to keep working or talking.

Additionally, even when your muse isn’t experiencing the scene you have set directly, you should show me instead of telling me about it.

Since my actual least favorite PSA on how it’s better to just tell people because no one wants to read “all that” deals with rain, we’re going to as well. Because it doesn’t have to be excessively descriptive to fucking show me it’s raining or has rained instead of just stating the fact.

Not, “it was raining.” Not, “it was wet outside.”

“In between her words, the distant, wall-dampened splash of cars driving through puddles.”

“He passed by windows beaded with moisture on his way to the kitchen.”

Wow, that was so complex, really a lot to read to get the idea that it is, or has been, raining outside without me directly telling you this!

There isn’t anything wrong with being more descriptive than this {nor is there anything wrong with using the word “rain,” so long as you’re backing it up with a description}, some of us do like to read and write about things like oil-slicked puddles in the street if our muse is seeing them or it is otherwise relevant. It’s just that you don’t have to do this, or have to do it at all times, to show instead of tell. This is yet another serious misunderstanding.

It isn’t that the description is often really that excessive, it’s more often that it is irrelevant to the extreme of sticking out weirdly. In the puddle thing, if my muse isn’t seeing it and/or I am not using that description to further experience, their mindset, personality, or tying it to an analogy later in the reply, it feels weird.

Some superfluous shit isn’t bad either, and superfluous can be purely subjective. It is, again, when it is to such an extreme as to leave your writing partner feeling oddly about a point in the text that seemed to ring with importance, but then held none. That isn’t an act of showing or telling, and neither is it your partner trying to show off as a gifted writer. For whatever reason, they just saw or felt that moment with such passionate clarity they had to include it immediately instead of waiting until a better moment for it. That’s literally it, there’s no need to project your insecurity in weird ass ways.

There are definitely other pieces of traditional-based writing advice that are great and either do transfer to RP perfectly or can with small amendments, but these are the most basic, commonly seen, and important combinations. They are also easy to better understand and apply!

When reading writing advice posts, please, ask yourself how they fit into RP. If they do at all. Many times, when it comes to the absolute basics of writing coherently and enjoyably, or developing characters, they’re great. It’s when they get into topics of some nuance that they don’t cross over so well and are outright damaging.

These pieces of advice are often being misunderstood or misapplied already, then are being passed around to a community notorious for its lacking application of critical thinking. Severe misunderstanding will happen, and terrible writing “rules” within the RPC develop from them.

Do be interested in writing, don’t separate traditional writing and RP writing into categories like “real writing and RP,” be invested in learning and improving. Just ask yourself how it applies to cooperative storytelling that is often thematic in nature, and proceed with caution and the mindset that writing is an art.

If you have the principles down and both yourself and others are enjoying your writing, you’re not doing it in an inherently wrong way because it wouldn’t be published. You’re not writing RP to have it published, and that’s not a bad thing. It’s just a difference to keep in mind when reading PSA’s about the Rules of Writing Whatever. 

[transorze123]

Health care field and medical coding

As the population ages, the need for medical coders is growing. The Bureau of Labor Statistics (BLS) expects this field to grow by 21% through 2020, a rate much higher than an average healthcare industry job. Breaking into the medical coding business is not difficult, especially with the demand for skilled coders so high. Because coding is such a detail-oriented position and the coder’s work affects nearly every area of a medical practice, a novice coder can be quickly overwhelmed. When beginning a medical coding career, there are several tips to make the job easier and make your work better. Learn the speciality New medical coders often come out of a generalized educational program. This is a good foundation, but if you are working in a specialized practice, such as a radiology firm, or cardiology or orthopedic surgery, you most likely will need to dig deeper to understand some of the subtle coding nuances. It is common for office procedures to carry multiple codes, and many times the office staff takes for granted that you know what those procedures and codes are. In a training course I was conducting last week, we had both the seasoned coders and the new or potential new coders that were moving from Med Recs to coding, and the seasoned coders had lots of questions on things they already had a point of reference on, but I noticed the new staff had nothing to say. I know part of that silence was because they were taking it all in, but part was because they really didn’t understand the concepts. Spend time with the practice manager learning about the flow of the office and standard procedures so that you do not miss any codes that could prevent the office from being paid properly. Look at previous coding Pull previous superbills (or the EMR patient ledger) and claim forms for the most standard office procedures to see how they have been coded in the past. Do not assume the codes are correct; review the procedures done against the medical record and perform a mini-audit to see if you would code the record in the same way. This often gives you a solid idea of normal office flow and procedure. Note any discrepancies and discuss them with the practice manager. Review the explanation of benefits Review all contested or unpaid explanation of benefits (EOBs) to see if a coding error is to blame. Often transposed digits or simple coder error created the problem. Fix the error and resubmit the record for payment. Discuss large-scale, unpaid EOBs with the billing and office staff to ensure that you are all working as a comprehensive team to get every procedure paid as quickly as possible. Coding materials access Online access to CPT and ICD-10-CM coding books and materials is often included with your school textbook purchases; keep both the books and any online access codes in a safe place so you can bring them to your job. Having quick, reliable access to these materials will help you save much time and frustration as you are starting a new coding position. Make these books your own by using highlighters for language within a code, tab areas that you frequent (out of order sequenced codes), make notes alongside a code that you are not familiar with but see often, and little notes to yourself as to remind what is correct and not correct, e.g. (99152 Moderate sedation- Propofol no, Midazolam/Versed yes). Whatever helps you best understand and remember, do it. It will help you later if you decide to take your certification exam and on the job. Job outlook According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, job prospects for medical coders, medical billers and other health information technicians should be good through 2020. The bureau expects these jobs to grow at a rate of 21 percent, 11% higher than the average growth rate for the American economy. However, the AAPC found that about 23 percent of those holding entry-level credentials reported struggling to find a job in 2016. Remember, the job does not come to you. You go to it. How do you do that? Start cold calling practices. I know it is the most glamorous way to grab that coding job, but some practices just do not have the time to post a job on Monster, or on a job fair website. Also, those sites tend to weed out good candidates, since they only assess what is on paper. Next, put yourself out there. Take in-person coding workshops to network, go to AAPC andAHIMA chapter meetings and network, choose to start in a different department (billing or medical records or even front desk) and then work your way into the coding position. Once the practice sees you are overqualified for your position, you could open a window to move up, or you could decide you like a different branch of the medical office position. Lastly, especially on social media, be smart. Complaining about your lack of job or how a certification entity hasn’t helped you only gets you noticed as a complainer that is waiting for that big break. It also shows a potential employer you have limited skills of propriety. You don’t think physician practices and hospitals are looking at LinkedIn, Twitter, Facebook or Instagram? Think again. I love Instagram, and Twitter, and have had more business generated through social media reach than ever before. Also, write articles and write a lot. A published author opens so many doors for employment because you now have name recognition. Write about what you know. AAPC, AHIMA, Advantage Health to name a few, are always looking for accomplished writers on the topic of healthcare. Oh and grammar counts. Everyone has to start somewhere. There is no elevator to the top floor coming off of a new certification or a decision to be a coder. But you can do it if you have the right mindset and the right understanding of what it takes. Good Luck!

[postsforposting]

Most artists are fine with fanart that isn't being sold for profit. That's the distinction that ao3 and all of it runs on, legally. You cannot profit off someone else's work, it has to be licensed, that is what fair use is defined as. That's what all the actors and writer's guilds are upset about: pay for work done, not being stolen from, not being digitally copied and reproduced as a digital robot for unpaid work.

Ethically and legally, there is no distinction between AI and fanworks, because there is no credit anywhere for what series or who the characters are, you have to track that down yourself, and nobody is paying royalties to the owner of the IP. That's the entire argument against AI: it's theft and lack of payment. Nobody puts on their art labels for who characters are, what the series is, etc. The only reason that stuff shows up on fan fiction, like on ao3, is because it's necessary for indexing. It is generally often not used when fic is posted here raw.

Unless you licensed the work ie paid for your ability to profit off it, there is no way for the IP owner to know you're illegally profiting off their work, unless they go searching for it like Disney is known to do. Very few artists have the power to do that themselves, because they are not Disney with infinitely deep pockets and a whole department dedicated to that.

Sure, fanart tends to encourage more people to go look at the IP, but so does piracy aka straight theft, which ends artists' careers. So would letting people make AI art with your work. It is nothing but the exposure argument, and nobody works for exposure. Again, fanart that is not for profit is fine. Fanart that is profited from is the legal and ethical issue, when we're comparing it to the claimed argument against AI. People being able to use AI to make fanart and derivative works of their favorite artists would have all these same arguments FOR it: after all, it's just fanart, innit? Who cares if they sell it for profit, just like all other fanart? Who cares if someone sells a fanfic commission for pay, in the style of some currently hot author? Or someone who's taken a decade to put out the next book in the series? How about an author who died before completing their work? Who cares if it was written by hand by someone who took a decade to learn how to draw a circle or on a computer or by a robot, it's all the same in the end: the original artist does not get royalties. You want to use their work in a fanwork or in an AI, you pay up. Can't afford it, too bad, yeah?

Just like everyone says about Disney not paying artists. Theft is not ethical or helpful to artists, it's theft regardless of why you do it or from whom. We could say "Oh but if Disney can pay people less or not pay them at all then they could discover/hire more artists and all of them would get more fans and get paid more later!" Doesn't really land too well. Nor does saying that Disney already paid these people earlier, like how fans who sell fanworks paid to see the movie, so they shouldn't have to pay them again, or that Disney puts in all this work (artists learning how to draw and taking a year to do some art thing) so they shouldn't have to shell out royalties and so much salary on top of that when they already own the IP, it's not like anyone would have any jobs without Disney. It's.... condescending. It doesn't make it okay when it's everyone doing it because "Disney can afford it and I can't". That's just theft. Billionaires can afford luxury cruise yachts and I can't, so therefore should I get to steal Ferraris and load up from expensive jewelry stores?

There is no difference between not paying an artist via AI and not paying an artist via profiting from fan works. Both take someone else's work, unpaid, for your own profit. There is no nuance or excuse or justification. People simply are used to doing it with fanworks and piracy, so we've all decided that's an exception and doesn't count because of tradition, but AI is new so somehow it doesn't get that same exception and has to be subject to "the rules". "We've always done this" does not make a thing right or logical or acceptable. If the rules matter, then they have to matter.

Professional artist guilds are actually consistent with their stance against AI, because they do not want people pirating or using their work without paying up, at all. Fanworks without profiting are fine, but not outside fair use. That's consistent. People who do fanworks for pay, and who are against AI, are the people who aren't consistent here. People can't both be against AI and okay with paid fanworks, they're the same thing. The average person needs a better argument against AI, if one exists. You sure can support the guilds being against AI, but once AI pays royalties? There's no argument against it. And there is no argument against AI using fanworks at all, because those by definition can't have royalties. There's no legal argument against it. Just as legally, if you try to sell fanworks, you can be sued into oblivion and forced to pay royalties that bankrupt you, and be forced to take down everything you've ever made. But this rarely happens, so people have decided profiting off fanworks is fine actually and there's nothing wrong with it. That's. Completely the wrong lesson. Not getting caught does not mean what you are doing is ethical or acceptable. Just like piracy. It's still theft, legally and ethically. Same as people claim AI is.

It's really weird to see Tumblr so against ai when Tumblr is the main culprit in not paying royalties for intellectual property via people making profit through fan works. Do you want to steal from artists or not?

[shortskirtsandsarcasm]

Feminism and Respectability in “Daddy’s Money” by Ricochet

I am decidedly not a fan of country music, but I did spend a good part of my rural childhood listening to country music radio and cassette mixtapes of country music that my mother made. An exception to my general distaste for the genre is “Daddy’s Money” (1996) by Ricochet. This song is about falling for a woman that has everything: she’s beautiful and rich, amongst other things that are not always valued in women. Not only is it catchy and fun to sing along to, but it gently subverts the misogyny long present in the greater tradition of country songs, and our contemporary patriarchal society. “Daddy’s Money” puts value on this woman’s fully-formed personality and independence, and is a contrast to other country songs like “Friends in Low Places” by Garth Brooks, which is essentially about a “country” guy showing up and to and ruining his ex-girlfriend’s “classy” party, which is deemed acceptable and even admirable. Other country music that might be deemed “love songs” overtly reinforce patriarchal gender values, such as “Firecracker” by Josh Turner, which is essentially about a woman being desirable because she is good at sex. This exploration will assume that the subjects are heterosexual, since the singer is a man and his ideal partner in question is clearly portraying a woman. Is “Daddy’s Money” the feminist country anthem that it seems? Let’s analyze.

The main praise of the woman in question is that

  She’s got her daddy’s money, her mama’s good looks/more laughs than a stack of comic books/a wild imagination, a college education/add it all up, it’s a deadly combination/She’s a good bass fisher, a dynamite kisser/country as a turnip green/she’s got her daddy’s money, her mama’s good looks/and look who’s lookin’ at me

The speaker here places value on this woman’s appearance and her money, but also on her being smart, educated, and funny. This is a departure from the common [but erroneous] notion that women aren’t funny, or that, if a woman is funny, she must also be unattractive. In addition to being funny, she’s also imaginative, which suggests she might have a creative career or an arty hobby that the speaker will value as their relationship progresses instead of writing it off as way to kill time or earn “pin money” before marriage. I would like to think that the reference to “comic books” means that the speaker is not here for any “fake geek girl” bullshit, but I think that one might be a stretch.

The speaker sees her tertiary education as a bonus along with her natural intelligence, which shows he is not looking for a woman who he thinks might be easier to control due to her lack of education, which flies in the face of that “Men Prefer Debt-Free Virgins Without Tattoos” article that went viral in 2018 for being a gross show of internalized misogyny, especially where “debt-free” was a not-so-subtle code for “without a university degree.” This man appreciates that that this woman has the intellectual capacity for critical thinking needed to obtain a degree and that she is independent enough to live on her own. It is of course entirely possible that she does not have student debt because her family’s wealth covered the cost of her tuition, but unsurprisingly this snappy bop does not specify.

Her talent at fishing is another implication that she is independent. Very literally, she can provide food for herself. Symbolically, she has taken a pursuit men have used to subtly signal that they are a “catch” (pun aggressively intended) in the dating arena and made it hers, thereby subverting the trope of men as providers. She doesn’t need a man, which makes her attraction to the speaker special. She is choosing a relationship with the speaker, and he is excited to be chosen. The flip side of her fishing skills can be taken to mean that she’s a “cool girl,” a fantasy of ideal womanhood that I find best described by Gillian Flynn in Gone Girl. This woman’s fishing prowess can be read as something “cool” and masculine which makes her “not like other girls,” which implies that women in general are weak and uncool. By having a “cool” hobby, she is special because she’s “one of the boys.” She appreciates good [read: masculine] hobbies and does not bother with frivolous [read: feminine] ones.

While these parts of the song subvert common misogynist beliefs about the desirability of women, other parts of “Daddy’s Money” are deeply entrenched in the conservative patriarchal respectability politics common in the United States. Church and God are brought up often in this tight three-minute song and signals the virtuousness, and therefore worthiness, of the woman in question. The first words of the song are “Can’t concentrate on the preacher preaching/my attention span done turned off/I’m honed in on that angel singing/up there in the choir loft,” which shows that both halves of the couple regularly attend the same church, and that the woman is very involved – enough to be in the choir. The speaker does not name church attendance or even Christianity specifically when listing the woman’s desirable attributes, but it is clear that her dedication to the Church is important. Desiring a partner to be from the same religious community is not necessarily a negative thing, but references to organized Christianity is a hallmark of the country genre. In this way, “Daddy’s Money” keeps to “traditional” values touted in country music. Further, the speaker appeals to God to help him win her, even though we know she is already into him: “Lord if you got any miracles handy/maybe you could grant me one/just let me walk down the aisle and say ‘I do’/to that angel with a choir robe on.” In short, she’s “wife material.”

The idea of “wife material” is often an impossible standard for women to determine whether or not they are worthy of the ultimate honor for a woman: heterosexual matrimony. “Wife material” means being simultaneously a strong, ambitious individual and a domestic goddess, attending to their man’s emotional and physical needs. A woman who is “wife material” will put her man first – above her own needs, fun hobbies, and of course, her career – and engage in unpaid labor over things that are not her job in the first place, like that man whose “girlfriend test” hinges on expecting his female partner to clean up a mess he made in his own apartment, entirely by himself. The speaker in “Daddy’s Money” is certainly using some of the attributes of “wife material,” but there is no evidence that he is expecting her to be his domestic or emotional caretaker. Through asking God to help him win her in marriage, he acknowledges that she could choose to be with someone else (or with no one at all), and that he would be lucky to be her husband. He is also acknowledging that he needs to work to be worthy of her – he is not operating from the mindset that he is a catch and that women should be working for his approval. He knows that she has an independent life and it is up to him to find a way to fit into her world; he is not expecting her to shrink for him.

“Wife material” also includes the assumption that the woman in question is not “promiscuous” or “slutty.” This behavior-policing seeks to keep women from owning their sexuality, and thereby control over their bodies. The woman in this song fits this aspect of “wife material” as well. There are multiple references to her being an “angel,” which signals she is not “promiscuous.” However, we also know she is “dynamite kisser” and is distracting the speaker in church, which signals that’s she’s not “frigid” or a “tease.” This woman walks the seemingly impossible tightrope of being sexually available while not being “slutty,” and is therefore worthy of becoming a wife. The speaker values her independence and wit, but ultimately, he is not seeking a partner that is too radically feminist. He enjoys her appeal as a “modern woman,” but still wants to uphold “traditional” values of respectability (and therefore heterosexual patriarchy) within this relationship.

I would love to hail this underrated and catchy country song as a radical anthem in which men discard toxic masculinity and patriarchal values to embrace a feminist utopia where women are appreciated as funny and as providers and in which the ideal [heterosexual] relationship is not predicated on gendered power hierarchies, but there is more to it. It makes no mention of violence, overt misogyny, or tractors, which makes it special and progressive in the context of country music, but it is not radically feminist at its core. It’s catchy and cute, and I still love it. As fellow subversive feminist musical legend Rebecca Bunch would say, “the situation is a lot more nuanced than that.”