#the piece of media in question is certainly not more or less '''respectful''' than the strawman fan you are building up in your mind

[normalbrothers]

old song and really no biggie on a personal level when they just block and don't harass anyone, because everyone should be allowed to moderate who interacts with them, but i still find this subset of fans baffling who watch a piece of media that clearly dabbles with incestuous under or overtones and then go freaks dni and also loudly whine about being forced to share the same fannish space with these people. how do you even watch the thing in the first place

[familyabolisher]

Apologies for bringing up a topic you've already discussed at length, but I've read through your posts on "anti-intellectualism" and completely agree with you on all counts. But I'm just now curious about how you'd define the increased culture of outright rejection of critical analysis (vague though the term is) as opposed to simple disinterest. Situations like people dismissing any deep analysis of systems, media, texts etc with "It's not that deep", or hostility towards fuller and in depth responses to statements (especially on social media with the ever prevalent "not reading that"), with the result often times being that anything requiring slight effort to engage with, or that isn't entertaining is dismissed completely.

Although I understand that these are just peoples reactions on the internet, and not systemic or material issues, I'd love to know your thoughts on how that cultural behaviour and trend could be classed, if not as anti-intellectualism.

(there are obviously a huge amount of external reasons (the attention economy, media, education etc) for people to react in that way, so I'm not blaming people personally, nor do I think everyone needs to go read Hegel and become a master critical thinker, but I do think it is a trend that has some damaging effects, especially as a response to any criticism of capitalism)

talked a little about it here—i guess i would ask what you're actually seeking to accomplish with the word "define," because there's no one explanation that can neatly account for every individual rejection of the practice of critical reading, and nor should we be seeking to find one. certainly 'anti-intellectualism' doesn't cut it, so i would just reiterate the point i made in the initial piece—how people feel about critical analysis, what their base skill level in critical analysis actually is, how that skill level is articulated, what their relationship is to the work or works in question & the respect with which they are willing to treat it are all highly contingent questions which cannot be easily explained away but instead merit thorough materialist investigation. ultimately as marxists we have to be materialists; our investigations should seek these material explanations, which means interrogating normative epistemes, education & academia, how we define "literacy" & its social use + social distribution, who benefits and who winds up disadvantaged. the "anti-intellectualism" position is broad enough to be near enough useless when it comes to articulating actionable responses; i also find it cruel.

also tbqh whilst i do get impatient when people don't "want" to engage with challenging narratives in ways that i find intellectually stimulating and would rather watch marvel film #47384 or whatever, i think it's good to take a policy of, like, blocking and moving on, curating your feed, and remembering that you don't + shouldn't have access to that person's relationship to the media landscape and the sorts of analytical tools that they may well only ever have encountered in a hostile educational setting, as well as working towards showing that engagement with "difficult" works is a) possible and b) fun and worthwhile. often people's reluctance to engage with works that have a (perceived) higher entry barrier (however ethically questionable that perception might be) simply comes from the fact that they lack/believe themselves to lack the right tools for engagement, and don't want to be made to feel "stupid" by not "getting" it—they preemptively go on the 'let people enjoy things'-esque defensive to counter this. the more candidly we talk about critical practices & the more digital airtime we give to less "mainstream" work, and the more space we give people to not understand things/to ask questions/to communicate and share ideas rather than participating in the big pissing contest of who can be the most Media Literate, the closer we get to resolving these sorts of tensions, imo.

[hyperpotamianarch]

So. I... didn't actually get around to fulfilling my promise of writing a new Dæmonverse Judaism post. My Camp Nephilim PJO post got more likes than the original DVJ one, so the terms have been fulfilled. I've been having trouble writing what I wanted to, though, so this is my stand in for what should've been here - an attempt to explain why Dæmonverse Judaism is important to me and why I took on this project.

Part of this is the basic lack of Jewish representation in Fantasy. I'm not going to get into it too much here, since it will be a digression, but as a general rule Jewish representation in fantasy tends to be limited and uninformed. A good example for one that is actually good is probably Spinning Silver, but I can't say I encountered much else that does as good a job in that respect. This is also why I wrote the Camp Nephilim piece - but that one's also based on a bunch of other stuff I thought of, and this post isn't about it.

The fact I really liked the concept of dæmons also helped, I guess. Even in my advanced age of 23, I'm still somewhat obsessed with the idea of self discovery, and I think dæmons can be very interesting through that lens.

I had interest in how Judaism functioned in the world of His Dark Materials for a long time now. Considering how a Christianity-adjacent religion was pretty much the main villain, it was more or less inevitable for me to think about it. At first, my excuse as to why the criticism of the book didn't matter for Judaism was simply that Judaism Isn't Like That. And while not entirely wrong, such a statement ignores the details that can still be relevant. Judaism might be in many ways interested in pursuing knowledge and not suppressing it, but it didn't stop certain rabbis from banning the study of philosophy and science. Judaism might not currently be a dominating world religion that scrambles for power, but that's something that can be subject to change and there can always be people who would want to use it for such purposes*. And while accepting at face value the worldbuilding of HDM as if it's real is certainly heretical, a. No one asked me to do that and b. It still has legitimate criticism, even if I think most of it applies to tyranny more than just religion.

Either way, I was curious as to where were the Jews in a world where their religion might also be a sham just as much as the magisterium is (though I preferred assuming the Authority hijacked a religion that had basis in truth, because I'm still a believer and prefer not to look at the world as if my faith is a huge lie), but they were still oppressed by the selfsame system upholding the word of (supposedly) their Authority. Which, if we're dissecting that, I think even if we don't accept my hijacking theory it would appear that the Authority preferred Christianity over Judaism. I think if Pullman wanted to criticise Abrahamic religions in general he should've done things differently. Either way, the question of where the Jews are and what they do seemed interesting to me.

I'd like to say that it's an interesting question in any manner of parallel universe in literature or media. It kind of reminds me of something I've seen once - a person telling all the people romantacising the middle ages that they wouldn't have been the knights living in castle but the peasants and serfs. And the thing is, I know the general status of my ancestors in medieval times. And I want to see them. Point being, I know my rough equivalent in a fantasy world won't be the high lord nor the poor peasant, and I'd like to see who they will be. I guess that is where Spinning Silver excels.

Going specifically for HDM, though, the concept is very intriguing and with interesting consequences. I know for a fact I'm not the only person to have looked up "what's your dæmon's settled shape" quiz on the Internet. Somewhere on the Internet there's a whole community for Dæmonism - people who (kind of) manifest their dæmons using their imagination. There's a whole genre of fanfiction that's just "x, but with dæmons". It's an intriguing concept unto itself.

It's not only that, though. For certain, it's a large part of why I started the original post - perhaps even half of it, considering it covered the point of Judaism in a world with dæmons and not necessarily Lyra's world in particular. However, the history of this world is also interesting in that respect - a fact I'm not sure my posts on the topic were persuasive enough on. There was, for example, a direct mention of the Office of Inquisition as something that could be reactivated in the modern times of this world (Northern Lights/the Golden Compass chapter 7: John Faa). And historically, the Inquisition and Jews didn't get along well - though to be fair, the Inquisition's problem was with the new converts, as it was directed toward Christians. You can probably see, though, how such lines could lead me to assume the things I did in my post exploring the alternative history.

I don't actually have any problem with Pullman not representing Jews in his books. As I mentioned in the post I keep referring to, considering his point of deviation it makes a lot of sense for Jews to not be in any of the places Lyra travels to. I don't really know what's going on in the Secret Commonwealth, so I might be wrong, but even then - both Lyra and Pantalaimon are probably a bit too busy to bump into random Jews. But in this vast world he created there's definitely still space to explore it ourselves. That's what fanfics are for, after all. Which neatly leads us to the catalyst for me trying to actually work on the topic - Dæmorphing.

Now, I have much to praise this fic for. Good Jewish Representation is actually not one of this fic's major strengths. The fic is great from many angles, and I enjoyed it greatly long before any hint of Jewish representation appeared. When it did, though, I enjoyed it as well. And when I got to the part where Poetry added a Psalm about dæmon settling to the lore, I thought I could maybe take on it. I really like the Tanach (Hebrew Bible), after all. I read Psalms in particular on a regular basis. So I thought I was familiar enough with the matter to write such a thing myself, and so asked Poetry for permission. From there, things... Didn't actually go too well.

There isn't much to tell, really. I have a rough draft of this Psalm written in Hebrew, but I am yet to complete the transliteration and translation (which I persuaded myself to include), and am not entirely sure I'm satisfied with what I have. Working on it on and off for the past year and a half or so, though, caused me to delve somewhat more deeply into the topic of Dæmonverse Judaism. I pondered the topic for quite a bit, and the posts you've seen are the result - mostly the dæmon-focused ones, at least. The historical part was a little more recent.

You see, the thing is that when searching Judaism and His Dark Materials on the Internet, you are way more likely to find something about Metatron and the Judeo-Christian myth of Enoch than anything of the sort I'm talking about. I've only managed to find one post discussing the alternative history consequences, and the actually interesting part of this post is no longer available. It's one of the posts I linked in my original DVJ post - maybe I'll insert a couple of links here as well later. So, you can imagine my frustration. I'm sure that if I'll look I'll find in ao3 many fanfiction exploring Judaism and dæmons to certain extents, and I'd love it if you could turn me to such fics. I still think, though, that there's a lack of fics actually exploring Lyra's world. I know it will require a mostly OC-only cast, something that might not attract much audience, but still. So I guess that this is what I was trying to do with the Jewsade idea - which I might have to drop, because I'm not sure I know how to write it. Essentially, what I wanted to do was to make it so the next person to look up what I did on the Internet will find something more interesting than an article getting excited over a book's use of Jewish lore. (That gets to one of my pet peeves regarding Jewish fantasy in general, but that's probably a post for another day.) I mean, sure it's interesting, but that's not what I was looking for.

Hopefully, you found this post enlightening on my mission statement on His Dark Materials and Judaism. If not, I'd guess the rundown is: I'm Jewish, I find dæmons neat and would love to see myself in a world with them. I would also love to see my brethren in Lyra's world, and would like for such things to be common enough to be found in a Google search. Also, random point: if anyone in the audience is a fan of His Dark Materials and is familiar to a decent extent with Psalms in the original language, I would love some help writing this dæmon-settling Psalm. Really. I don't have much to the side of beta readers at the moment and I really want some advice.

On that note, thank you for reading and have a good day! Shana Tova to sll the Jews reading this, as well!

*note that this nearly edges towards an age-old antisemitic conspiracy theory. So to clarify again: no, Jewish people do not control the world and most of them aren't interested in doing so whatsoever. But no group is homogeneous, and there are going to be people using every tool they can get to get into power. That's not related to their descent, it has more to do with hubris and narcissism, I think.

[coldlytics]

Outbound vs Inbound Marketing: Which Works Best?

Every business figuring out how to grow has to navigate the same question: what’s the right marketing mix for us? Because the options are endless, narrowing your focus to the few best options can take a lot of work. After all, every marketing strategy has worked for someone, right? 

Perhaps you’re leaning towards running ads on Facebook, but someone you respect says it has to be Google. You might consider placing a billboard on a busy freeway, but then you read a case study about how buying ad space in an industry newsletter single handedly built a small company.

You’ve probably heard of inbound and outbound marketing, both of which are proven to help companies generate quality leads. However, understanding their distinct benefits and challenges can help you settle on the right growth strategy.

What is Inbound Marketing?

Inbound marketing focuses on pulling customers towards you by providing helpful and engaging content. Done right, this content builds a connection with your prospects and establishes your business as the solution to their needs.

Brands often use content at every stage of the customer journey. Consider a brand that attracts new leads through a major keyword with its homepage ranking #1 on Google.

While on their homepage, a lead downloads a white paper to learn more about the product. Then, they’re sent an email with even more information. After they speak to a sales rep, they get a text message with a link to a testimonial video.

Here are a few examples of popular inbound marketing strategies:

Website/blog - The goal is to create SEO-optimized content that ranks on Google for high-intent keywords. 

Videos - These can be testimonials, product explainer videos, webinars, or purely informational.

Social media - Clever social media campaigns are a surefire way to get people to fall in love with your brand.

Newsletters - Informational newsletters, especially round-ups of what’s happening in the industry, are increasingly popular. Every dollar spent on email produces an average ROI of $36 - $42.

Podcasts - 464 million people listen to podcasts worldwide, a number that has been growing and is expected to continue to grow.

Pros and Cons of Inbound Marketing

While inbound marketing can be highly effective, it also has drawbacks.

Pros of Inbound Marketing

High lead quality - Your leads have searched you out and generally will have consumed high-intent content before talking to a sales rep.

Versatile - Content can be used to generate new leads, nurture prospects, and increase conversions during the sales process.

Less pushy - A great piece of content leads people to the sale, but in a natural and educational way.

Cheaper - While you certainly can spend big on inbound marketing, it’s easier to produce on a measured budget than to run ads.

Cons of Inbound Marketing

Lower quantity - You’re limited to people who seek you out.

Longer adoption - Creating a top-notch lead magnet or webinar can take dozens of hours.

Harder to pivot - Because it’s so time-intensive to create, it’s much harder to change course later. 

Harder to track - It’s difficult to quantify the impact of a YouTube video or a social media post on conversion rates.

What is Outbound Marketing?

Outbound marketing involves actively reaching out to where your prospects are and delivering your message. This type of marketing has been around forever, as evidenced by door-to-door salesmen, radio and TV ads, and telemarketing.

Of course, digital outbound marketing is now massively popular, with more than 5 billion people plugged into the internet. Users tend to give plenty of signals about their preferences through websites they visit, groups they join, and information they give out (such as on social media)—making it easy to target the right people.

Here are a few examples:

Offline advertising - Billboards, direct mail, TV ads, 

Online advertising - PPC ads on platforms like Google, Facebook, and Amazon; display advertising on websites, ad space in a newsletter, podcast ads, and many others.

Door-to-door sales - Perhaps the oldest form of outbound marketing.

Cold email and phone calls - You procure a list of potential clients and reach out to them. This strategy is only as good as your data. Many new businesses grow their businesses this way because it’s inexpensive and you can see results immediately. 

Pros and Cons of Outbound Marketing

Let’s dive into why companies love outbound marketing, but also where it falls short.

Pros of Outbound Marketing

Fast implementation- You can set up cold emails and run them in short order. Cold calling can happen as fast as you can get a list of targeted prospects numbers.

Scalable optimizations - If you send out a cold email that doesn’t get results, you can test different versions of the email the following day.

Hyper-targeted - It’s easy to find and reach out to people nearly anywhere in the world that are exactly within your ICP.

Measurable ROI - While it’s hard to measure results on a radio ad, strategies like cold email give you an incredible amount of data to trace returns on.

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Cons of Outbound Marketing

Competition - Everywhere you look there are ads interrupting your day, your message will need to stand out amongst the crowd.

Requires continuous optimization - What works this week can change the next and cold outreach strategies require constant monitoring for changes and optimization. It’s not a “set it and forget it” strategy.

Additional sales effort - Cold leads require additional trust building as they’ve liekly never heard of you before.

Is Inbound or Outbound Marketing Right for You?

Of course, established companies with big budgets spend a ton of time and resources on both inbound and outbound marketing.

But what if you’re like most companies trying to gain a foothold in a crowded market with limited resources?

While inbound marketing is often a tremendous long-term strategy, it’s usually not viable for a new brand seeking growth right away. 

Imagine trying to get into the personal finance space and fighting with Investopedia for the #1 search rankings. Or, being in vacation rentals and hoping people pay attention to your social media with Airbnb around. Competing with publicly traded giants isn’t a viable short-term strategy for building a small business.

Grow Your Small Business with Outbound Marketing

While inbound marketing is a terrific, long-term strategy, it’s unlikely to help you here and now.

That’s why we recommend cold emailing to targeted lists of prospects. It’s worked incredibly well for us and our clients who have shared some of their strategies for success publicly.

Cold email success starts with two things: 

High quality lists - “fish where the fish are”

Implementation - a list is only valuable if you USE it

Let’s say you want to grow your digital agency that provides SEO services to dentists. You’ll likely want to target smaller practices that don’t have much marketing in place. You’ll also want an email address that gets right to the decision-maker, not a general office email or one that’s no longer in use. The same goes for other industries, from originating deals as a business exit advisor, to scaling corporate sales teams. Growth is at your fingertips with outbound marketing.

At Coldlytics, we don’t build a list until you request it—and our email addresses go to the person at the top. Create a free account today to see how our lists have helped many small businesses grow.

[unknownentry404]

Unpopular opinion, but I feel like engaging with “opposite” queer media, can be a “safe” way to interact with queerness when you are still young and figuring yourself out. Like look! Being a teen and like: “ I like [insert heteronormative response relating to the gender you were assigned at birth]. I’m not queer! It’s okay!”

Like, obviously that’s not everyone. But some people definitely love fic because they’re queer, some because they’re young and questioning, some love it just to love love and interesting story dynamics not found enough in media, and some do love it because they’re cishet it is hot for them. And yes, that last group can make you uncomfortable and it’s fine to be so, but fic is so varied and writers are such a spectrum, so I think it is deeply unfair to blanket sweep all fanfic and fanfic readers/writers as “fetishists.”

I mean, god. Look at tumblr and how queer we all are on here. Those two audiences often overlap you know? I certainly don’t find many other ficcers on other social media sites (rest in piece LiveJournal my beloved). Fic has a deep and storied queer history and that should be cherished.

TLDR: a cishet person writing/reading mlm/film/etc is not inherently bad/your-problem. BUT if you meet someone that makes you uncomfortable because they are cishet and “obsessed with gays/yaoi,” you are allowed to feel uncomfortable and even call them out. But also, don’t go looking for fics and/or writers to hate on? You have no idea WHO is writing the fic you hate: it could be a 12 y/o queer/questioning teen or it could be a conservative mom with a fetish for the “forbidden” or some bullshit, etc.

Fanfic. It’s not curated, it’s not monetised, it’s not professionally edited nor written by a professional writer. (I mean I’m sure some golden gems are, but they are not the norm nor the starting point).

You’re allowed to be squicked out about it if it relates to you (and you’re not just an Ally making unnecessary fuss on what doesn’t concern you), but don’t go looking for trouble and attacking/shaming people you don’t know. But obviously, if someone attacks you with shit that is deeply triggering to you? In person or online? Go ham. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Once again I’m just asking for nuance.

(AND also for the pro-ao3-censorship people to reconsider: please understand that banning/censoring stories of any kind is a rabbit hole that never ends well. I mean look at the republicans! They tried to censor books in schools in Utah, in the “name of keeping porn from children,” but with the not so subtle agenda to get rid of queer and critical race theory books. And it backfired when the Bible got pulled. Trying to censor fic will just eventually lead to the banning of some legit queer/minority works of art and stifling creativity. Book burning/banning is NEVER the answer.

(As I always say: there is NO such thing as a bad story premise, just bad execution. Some topics are obviously more taboo and/or tricky to do respectively than others, but that doesn’t mean they can never be done well? Especially when it’s done by people who’ve survived such trauma trying to work through it in their story telling. Not to even mention that those people don’t need to out themselves or even be good writers for you to “justify” their work’s existence.

(And yes, by god is there undoubtedly some disgusting fics out there, in ao3 and published work alike! But that’s what makes ao3 so beautiful. Tags are beautiful. The culture of authors putting Trigger Warnings in notes are beautiful. More information not less. Look, it’s like the banning of porn on tumblr. It didn’t make porn less common, just made it more likely to stumble across when you could no longer blacklist nsfw. .

Essay clear.

[ . . OP, why did you turn off comment replies, my lack of a character limit made me go off the wall, I apologise. :’)c I’m too passionate about this. But it’s also such a hard topic to discuss concisely. Also: stating I’m so gay I’m straight here, to give perspective to my voice, (transmasc, loving the fems/enbies, etc). And have been reading fic for over a decade and a half, in all parts of my queer journey. . . Confession time: I grew up in such a small town and had such a controlling Homelife, that I came across “gay stuff”/“representation” for the first time with Yaoi when I was like 14. Was it a good starting off point? ABSOLUTELY NOT. But it also helped me break down that block of “don’t think-about/acknowledge gay people or you’ll turn gay” mindset I was brought up and brainwashed in. It made me not scared/“phobic” of just the very “concept,” which in turn eventually made me more open to learning when I went to uni and then eventually discovering myself in the years following uni. People are messy man. Love and compassion and good faith is the answer. Unless someone is actually coming for you, and has reached the point of no return: THEN punch em in the face. :3 But the world is too exhausting to go looking for hate. Take care of yourself, and be careful not to inadvertently hurt yourself or others].

[ali-gator]

On What Respect Really Means, Whose Responsibility It Is, and What a Difference It Makes When Students Feel Liked

*This post is in collaboration with two young people (H and C) from my transfer school, ages 21 and 18. One is an alumni and one is a current student. They wanted to contribute after talking about the subject and the current student received extra credit in a summer school class for his contributions.*

There is an anonymous quote that’s been going around the internet for years, and it’s sometimes how I start classes as we start to build our community. When I started talking to my kids about what they wished they could tell educators, what they felt people needed to understand about them and transfer school students in general, they reminded me of it as a place to start. H and C, in particular, sat and spent time with me analyzing this piece of text, and what it meant to them, and what it reflected about their experiences in school. 

“Sometimes people use ‘respect’ to mean ‘treating someone like a person’ and sometimes they use ‘respect’ to mean ‘treating someone like an authority’ and sometimes people who are used to being treated like an authority say ‘if you won't respect me I won't respect you’ and it sounds fair, but what they mean is ‘if you won't treat me like an authority, I won't treat you like a person’.”

So, like the brilliant students that they are, H and C knew that in order to analyze what this text meant, they’d have to break it down and define respect first, get us all on the same page. They immediately began to equate respect to social capital - something you can trade on. Kids, maybe especially urban kids, know this instinctively - as every “street” trope in media exemplifies. C explained “respect is something you can have even if you got nothing else, and it gets you stuff, like through doors, and safety, and even things sometimes”. H picked up explaining that respect is kind of like power, and becomes more important the less material resources and actual power people have, as their sole protective factor and asset to their name. 

So then we had to consider how people get respect - I asked them the age old debate question - should respect be immediately given and then is people’s to lose, or should we take the more cautious approach and wait for respect to be earned? H and C both first jumped to respect needing to be earned. This feels justified if we’re thinking of respect as a type of currency. I’ve always tended to lean the other way though - that we end up with better overall interactions if we give respect freely, so I pushed them a little. H, who is wise beyond her years and should probably teach my classes for me, paused a minute and then told me she thought I was using a different definition of respect than the one we’d just talked about. She said, correctly, that what I was talking about was kindness. Respect, she continued, implies a level of trust and knowness - that’s why it works as collateral. She’s right of course, certainly right in the way urban teens define and experience respect, and this makes it a precious commodity, not something that can be demanded, even without the sneaky power differential the quote exposes. 

This type of cultural reciprocity (Ladson-Billings, 1995; Lim & Renshaw, 2001) where teachers and students can work together as equals on large scale ideas is invaluable for many reasons, including because of how it allows us to define our terms together - something we always harp on students to do but may forget to do ourselves. Taylor (2017) expands on Mezirow (1981) explaining the way our frame of reference defines our experiences and influences our behavior. If my frame of reference has me equating kindness with respect, it makes perfect sense to walk into a classroom and list it as one of the things we should all show each other at all times. If my students do not share my frame of reference, instead perhaps hold the same definition as H and C (likely), then I’ve just asked them for something appalling - for their blind trust and personal assets, with no proof I’m good for any of it. In this way, even unintentionally, the cruel power dynamic of the original quote can start to be manufactured. You can picture it playing out - a student protests, the teacher starts to form an opinion about a student who disagrees with offering kindness (if that’s her frame of reference), and suddenly every movement by this apparently purposefully unkind student is suspect… Stitt (2021) shows the level of extra harm that befalls students when they are put under extra surveillance due to being viewed through a negative lens. 

This is all before we even start to look at power dynamics. H and C said the original quote immediately made them think about the police - how when they get stopped cops say things like this, but in reality they are expected to be wholly submissive just to “earn” not coming to bodily harm. This we see regularly, and deserves separate attention. But for the sake of this blog, I asked them if they felt it related to any of their experiences at school at all. Both immediately jumped in that it did. C exclaimed, “H— yes! At my old school, before they expelled me, they used to act like we was animals. Just like the cops. Everything we did they thought was us being bad and mean and dangerous. They said we had to respect them cause they was the adults, and what they meant was we had to do exactly what they said or they’d kick us out and lock us up. It was like they was afraid of us,”. H jumped in and explained she too had often felt like the adults were afraid of her, some even said it - that she was dangerous and had no business being in a regular school. This, she said quietly, hurt her feelings and made her want to give up. She continued that she felt the adults at the two previous high schools she had attended considered anything remotely disobedient as disrespectful - so every offense always ended up counting like two. Any display of individuality or questioning of authority seemed to render the offender sub-human. She recounted being told she’d never amount to anything, that she was dangerous and even her previous first alternative school didn’t want to deal with her anymore. 

 Fuhr (2017) describes the idea of bildung as a core lynchpin of learning – a learner’s quest to know themself and better themself and the world around them. Immodrino-Yang (2016) explains, “it is literally neurobiologically impossible to build memories, engage complex thoughts, or make meaningful decisions without emotions,” (p. 18). In short - we need to be whole selves with feelings in order to learn. And yet we set up education in a way that straight asks students to give up their selves and blindly obey. In this way, not only do we set up the cruel power dynamic of the quote, but we negate it: only by giving up personhood: autonomy and agency, will you count as treating the adult as an authority, and so then they don’t even have to do the bare minimum of treating you like a person. 

One thing H and C both brought up was how hated they felt by the adults at their previous schools, and how it added to their stress levels and made them afraid to ask for help and want to give up. H brought the conversation back to this by explaining, “like when you were thinking of respect like kindness, Miss, that I do think we should always give people unless they prove otherwise. But like it’s hard to give anything, even kindness, when you can’t even move or speak without them thinking it’s you wildin’.” Her posture slumped back and she shrugged. She makes a fair point - in a hierarchical system, everything comes from the top down, which means only what is valued by the top will be present – if kindness, much less respect, are not what comes from the top it will be physically impossible for those at the bottom to show it. It will be blamed on them not having the desire (which to be fair, it’s hard to want to be kind to people who are mean to you), but as H explained, it will actually be because they won’t be trusted enough to be given the space to offer anything, kindness included. Banks et al. (2001) explains that a school’s structure has to have a more level playing field to create a culture of care and collaboration and explains that top-down administration rarely if ever creates equity and transformational education. 

H and C both jumped on this, explaining that kids grow up monitoring adults around them to see how to behave, not just in terms of learned behavior, but in terms of what is valued, what gets them the best treatment, etc. We know this to be true from Bowlby’s discussion of the attachment styles (1969, 1982) and Winnicott’s (1960) true self vs. false self theory, and Kohut’s (1989) discussion of empathic attunement - children are constantly reading their parents and tuning their behavior. Winnicott discusses this further in his discussion of the formation of false selves - that children will do what it takes to have a connection (even negative) with their parent, and so will throw tantrums, or perhaps become a model silent child, whatever gets a reluctant parent to interact with them in some way. Beyond that, not only is this attunement to adults how kids figure out to behave, but it’s how they get their senses of self. Self-concept is developed primarily through interactions with other people - initially parents and then others as our circles expand (Dermitzaki & Efklides, 2000). Since children spend so much time at school, much of their self-concept is created by the way they perceive their teachers’ beliefs about them throughout their schooling (Brown & Bigler, 2005; Cornelius-White, 2007; Cushman & Cowan, 2010; Fall & Roberts, 2012; Lane et al., 2004; Rubie-Davies et al., 2006; Szumski & Karwowski, 2019). Children who are punished for any action - even picking up a pencil that falls without asking (an anecdote C told from his time at a no excuses charter school), become frozen. Kindness and respect, and especially learning, are all active processes that require action. 

All this just to support what Banks et al. (2001) describe - schools administered from the top-down in a strict hierarchy will not create collective and participatory systems, in large part because the level of control exerted to keep the hierarchy in place crushes students’ self-concepts. Students’ self-concepts—particularly their senses of self-worth—have been shown to play a big role not just in academic achievement, but in overall decision making and life direction (Cushman & Cowan, 2010; Fall & Roberts, 2012; Lane et al., 2004; Rubie-Davies et al., 2006; Szumski & Karwowski, 2019). We talk a lot about grit, resilience, and student responsibility and motivation (generally with the connotation of them lacking these things), but not nearly enough about the ways we systematically go about breaking students. This breaking is exponentially increased for students of color, whom society sees as dangerous and in need of being controlled (Giroux, 2010; Goff et al., 2014; Kennedy et al., 2017; Males, 1996; Mitra, 2008; Takanishi, 1993 Wilson et al., 2017). As Banks et al. (2001) state, schools reflect and perpetuate society’s “underlying values” (p. 202), and so students of color are at terrible risk, not just academically but of coming to extreme harm emotionally and physically via the school to prison pipeline. My school is a “last stop” along that highway, and we see the cruelty that befalls kids and the harm it causes daily. The amount of terror and self-hatred induced in these kids that society is terrified of and hates, is staggering.

By this point H and C seemed a little dejected - somewhere between furious and resigned, and their faces showed real sadness. I asked them if it’s hopeless, and to their immense credit, they jumped back to life. “Of course not!” They exclaim! And of course it’s not, because here are two of “these kids” - one with a criminal record, both having been expelled several times and labeled violent degenerates, brilliantly, enthusiastically, analytically, supportively, and kindly helping me with a doctoral program assignment. Here they are, engaging with ideas, theories, and studies. Here they are engaging with me - one more on the long list of “little white lady” teachers they’ve had - a list which by this point should have conditioned them to fear and hate the lot of us, just as they are clumped, feared, and hated. And why? Not for credit - C is getting extra credit but doesn’t need it - he already has an A and is half done with his final paper. H is an alumni and just stopped by to chat after her overnight shift when I told her the convo I was going to have with the class. They are doing this because they care deeply about the world around them, their fellow students, the systems and dynamics and disasters of society. And beyond that, to their immeasurable credit (although not remotely unusual in my students), they care deeply about anyone who is remotely kind to them, who lets them be and think and supports them, who in their words, “likes” them. (And I do like them, very much. Not just because they are my babies, but because I value and admire their thinking, their analysis, their empathy and compassion, their work ethic, their humor… These are people I’d choose on a team to do anything…)

This “liking” becomes the thing they run with, now several hours into conversation. “Miss, you know we’d do anything for you”. And I do, and am immeasurably grateful. (This is a credit to their characters, not anything I’ve done to earn it). In fact, they’d do anything for any adult who has “liked” them along the way - much the way kids do anything for a parent who has shown the least bit of care. Much the way Maté (1999, 2003, 2020) explains that attachment is the number one motivating force in the world for all humans. Much the way Immodrino-Yang (2016) explains the necessity of emotion (and therefore connection) for complex thought and learning. To like a kid offers them safety - when you like someone they can screw up and will get another chance. It means there’s something inherent about them that maintains worth, no matter what else happens. This is critical, especially for kids who haven’t had enough evidence of that blind inherent worth. 

In discussion both H and C, who are always doing a hundred times more to bolster my confidence and feelings of self-worth than I’ve ever done for them, sweetly tell me how I was the first to tell them they are smart, which is outrageous since it is indisputable. It makes me think about current pedagogical insights, and how right now it’s considered incorrect to praise kids’ innate intelligence - they think it will harm intrinsic motivation and create a fixed mindset – which makes sense to a degree - and certainly praising hard work goes a long way too. However, I think in urban ed, especially by high school, it is worth remembering how crushed and torn many of our kids' self-concepts have been, and it may be worth offering positive pieces of self-definition. They know hard work, cyclical poverty breeds generations of hard work that gets nowhere. They are well aware they can (and will have to) work hard. What they are often less aware of is that they deserve a positive result from it. A fixed mindset isn’t a good thing, but a fixed sense of self and self-worth that can’t be changed by the negative opinions and treatment of others is an invaluable thing to go through life with. It’s why Erikson (1963, 1968) put so much emphasis on the importance of the early stages of psychosocial development. 

In a world that wants to crush our kids, we owe them help building an impenetrable safe around their sense of self-worth. What so many people read as entitlement in kids is so often a sense of nothing to lose, which is pretty common when you have nothing… Additionally, Becker’s (1973) Labeling Theory explains that labels become self-fulfilling prophecies, and when we make kids feel they are worthless and can never do anything right, they don’t feel capable of working hard towards betterment - so they may as well, and in fact it necessitates them circumventing the usual systems and potentially behaving in ways we frown upon. I think it is worth telling kids they are smart. Tell them they are good. Tell them you like them. None of it has to be testabley proven; all of it is true enough in the way that all individuals have an intelligence about them, a goodness about them, and inherent worth. When you tell them this is who they are, who you see them as, it makes them safe in your presence - because we protect who we value, and as Maslow (1943) makes clear, it is only when we are safe that we can do anything else.

H and C offer some advice and explanation to teachers, which seems like it should be obvious, but based on their experiences and the experiences of most of my students, it clearly is not. “Try to like us,” they say. “Try to like us, and I promise we’ll step up to make it easier”. They remind us we have the power, so whether a classroom is frightening or warm and comfortable, whether there is space to earn and offer respect, whether there is safety to pursue ideas and growth, is really up to us - but they’ll help us build it given half the chance. They just have to be allowed, because they are in too precarious a position and have too much to lose to try to force the issue, and as Banks et al. (2001) said, there cannot be collaboration with such an imbalance of power. We owe it to our kids to like them - to believe in their inherent worth, and try to make light of and laugh off their childish screw-ups. We owe it to them because that is what gives them enough safety to make mistakes, and mistakes are how we all learn. 

Most of us have heard Rita Pierson’s (2013) viral TED talk in which she talks about her colleague who said “they don’t pay me to like [the kids]”, and Pierson shakes her head and says the colleague's year will be “long and arduous”. And it will. So we probably also owe it to ourselves to like our kids; but as the adults in the room, the ones with power at least for as long as schools remain largely hierarchical, the ones we really owe are our students. In taking a teaching job we are signing up to act “in loco parentis” - in place of parents. We have that same responsibility to raise our students - to instill in them a sense of worth, of safety, of possibility. So like your kids, so that they know they are worthy. Tell them they are smart so they can take the risk to think. Tell them they are valuable and deserving so they are bolstered against a world that tells them otherwise. Tell them you appreciate them and trust them, and maybe they’ll come do your grad school assignments for you.

[audreydoeskaren]

In reference to your recent Hanfu questions you’ve received from people and cultural appropriation, I have a question: I genuinely want to know where the line is drawn between someone who has educated themselves on the cultural significance and taken time to ensure that they are wearing Chinese cultural clothing respectfully and for people who don’t, and how there will often be people (regardless of race, cultural identity, or national origin) who will take issue with someone who is white wearing said clothing, regardless of context. My partner of five years is Chinese, like, was born and raised in China, and I am a white woman from the USA. I speak Mandarin and have lived and studied in China. I never wore hanfu or qipaos before my boyfriend took me to a shop while in China and said he wanted to buy me one, that he had always wanted to see me in a qipao. Not once in China did anyone ever make a comment about me wearing my qipao when I was out with him on special occasions. The one time I wore it in the US, for an event he came with me to, I had people of multiple racial backgrounds get in my face and accuse me of appropriating Chinese culture just for wearing the dress, their reasoning being “it isn’t my culture” and “I’m not from China”. I read the additions to your recent analysis commenting on the role that racial tensions between countries play in this, and while racial tensions certainly exist and don’t help things, would that mean that even though I’ve taken extra care to wear a qipao (or other hanfu) appropriately and respectfully according to the advice of Chinese friends, family, and hanfu sellers in China before wearing it, that it would never appropriate for me as a white woman in the USA to wear a dress that my Chinese partner picked out for me just because other people are racist or prejudiced? I understand fully that cultural appropriation is a legitimate thing and that respect should always be shown to the culture or cultures involved, but there must be a line in the sand somewhere and I want to understand where so I can show respect at all times. Thank you.

tw racism

Hi, I think you could more or less piece the answer together from my previous replies, I'll just summarize here.

What you were doing doesn't sound like intentional cultural appropriation on your part, but it still came off as inappropriate to some people because of ethnic tensions in the US. I think a new conclusion I've come to in the past few days is that cultural appropriation is not just defined by what the person wearing the garment is doing, but also how it is observed (somewhat like quantum physics??); if nobody calls you out for it cultural appropriation isn't real but if somebody does, it is. There are myriad reasons as to why some Chinese people are not ok with white people wearing cheongsam, all of them are valid because of the legacy of colonialism and ongoing racism against Asians in the West. Never ever think that Asians are “too sensitive” for being offended and white people are entitled to wear cheongsam despite their complaints, it builds on a tradition of trivializing racism against Asians.

Since you've taken care to wear the garment properly, Chinese people within China wouldn't have a problem with it because 1) most people in China like it and are positively surprised when foreigners appreciate our culture 2) Han Chinese people are not oppressed in China by white people so there are no power dynamics involved. On top of that, a lot of people in China have never heard of the term cultural appropriation, so they don't have the words to describe something they might be potentially feeling.

However in the US it is a different context. Now, I don't know the ethnicities of the people who told you off for cultural appropriation, if none of them were of Chinese descent they had no right to lecture you on that?? They could point out to you that they felt like you were doing cultural appropriation, but at the end of the day if they were not Chinese they didn't have the power to decide whether it was ok. If some of them were Chinese however, you need to stop wearing cheongsam, at the very least not anymore in their presence. Respect for Chinese people always comes before respect for Chinese culture. Even though you had completely good intentions and just wanted to show appreciation for Chinese culture, it's always more worth it to honor the voices of local Chinese people than to defend yourself regarding cultural appropriation. It's not a matter of life and death for you if you don't wear a cheongsam, but it’s very detrimental to Chinese Americans if their opinions are dismissed; their complaints don't exist in a vacuum, but rather on top of a long history of oppression and abysmally bad representation of Chinese people in Western media.

So my two cents on your personal case is that you could wear cheongsam in China whenever you please since the locals are fine with it and you're also connected to Chinese culture via your studies and partner, but do refrain from wearing it in the US in a crowd that doesn’t just include your Chinese friends and family. You could try explaining to people that your partner is Chinese and encouraged you to wear it, but if they're still not sold on the idea, just wear something else next time, it's easier for everyone. This is not just about cultural appropriation but also human decency.

Oh and I forgot to add, it’s really adorable that your boyfriend picked out a cheongsam for you to wear. Blame colonialism and racism for ruining a sweet story :(

I think this is the last I will post on cultural appropriation because this is not what my blog is for. However my ask box and messages are always open if people need to vent about colonialism, Orientalism or racist shit in general :))

[olderthannetfic]

Ah, I do see your points, anon. I'm not going to post all your asks publicly because if you really feel that unsafe, it's probably best not to have a bigass chunk of your text for people to analyze and try to guess your identity from. I think one of the best points you made is about how close to home it hits when the non-fave is not only your fave but is similar to you in some way like demographic. You're not wrong for having those emotions. I do wonder if they make it hard to see how some other people feel similarly embattled on other axes.

TBH, I think one of the big problems here is that the large aggregate patterns you're talking about are racist, but most individual fics and fans are not really the problem. It's hard to know how to talk about this or who to tell to "fix" it when we're looking at free, hobbyist art.

A lot of people's tastes are certainly formed by shitty society, but once they're formed, they don't change fast if at all. Asking someone to rewrite their libido is a big ask, yet tumblr does it all the time as though it's as simple as snapping your fingers.

This leaves me with the sense that a lot of tumblr is... like... the political lesbians of porn fic or something: desire is not real, only choosing based on logic and politics. Or maybe people are so asexual that they just don't understand the lizard brain's "YES!" at some porn things and complete indifference to others?

I don't think it's great if great swaths of people feel like bottom!Nicky is super hot and top!Nicky fundamentally isn't, but I also don't think they can necessarily just turn it off like flipping a switch.

(If someone reading this doesn't like their current tastes and wants to attempt to alter them, I do think it's possible. What you should do is line up a large slate of media that prominently features characters of the ethnicity or whatever that you don't find hot/interesting. These should be leads whose emotional development drives the plot and is supposed to be central to the audience's enjoyment of the media. Watch/read/etc. this media all the time. All. The. Time. Try out many pieces because you won't like every character or every show, and we're looking for genuine enjoyment, not the fandom equivalent of a pity fuck. Spend enough time on this, and your unconscious sense of who's hot and interesting will eventually shift somewhat. This is a project you should expect to take a few years.)

But I digress.

The one tweet thing is a very toxic pattern. If TOG fandom is doing that, guys, please try to be more conscious of holding the actors of color to a higher standard (or the women or whomever). I know this often comes from a place of paying more attention to our own and wanting to set a good standard, but the effect is that minorities can't fuck up ever while white dudes get infinite passes.

Okay, on to the fic thing... Gotta say, my instant reaction to that description is "Ooh!"--as it would be for the same scenario with the characters reversed. (Ships who start out trying to kill each other are my favorite! x1000 if they're resurrecting style immortals and they literally do.) I can see how it would feel like slamming into a brick wall if you aren't kinky in just the right way and you didn't know it was coming though.

Part of why I react so strongly to a lot of discourse that runs along these lines is that I am a naturally extremely kinky person. It's not so much about what I do (which as a deeply lazy person in a long distance relationship is essentially nothing), but it's absolutely how I'm wired.

And I can tell you that my quotidian experience in fandom is sharing something I don't even realize is a big deal only to have someone I like, respect, and trust react in horror and tell me that it's triggering and awful and should not be allowed in fandom spaces because it makes "people" unsafe. It's such an instant, kneejerk reaction they don't even realize I was sharing it because it spoke to the very core of me. Lesson learned, friend. Lesson learned.

That sounds a bit off topic, I know, but bear with me: The point of that anecdote is that it's pretty common for me to get people trying to raise my awareness of things I have already thought deeply about while denying my essential humanity and not even realizing. As a kinky person who likes to make my fave the top (and generally a conflicted sadist), this constant request to explain and justify is exhausting.

I doubt most of the top!Joe fans have this precise problem simply because people who make their fave the top are much less common in fandom than people who make their fave the bottom, but I see a similar pattern with fans who are just fundamentally wired for rape fantasies (one of the most common fantasies that exists) vs. fans who just don't get rape fantasies at all. Or substitute your BDSM/kinky/messed up fantasy trope of choice. Covertly radical feminist attitudes towards kink and power are on the rise in fandom, and as a naturally kinky person, boy do I notice it!

I know that it feels like crucial activism to share these insights about why the ratio of top!Joe is hurtful, and the pain you feel is real. But it's also the case that it's a big ask to want people to listen. (Not me. Obviously, I routinely choose to engage with discourse. I mean overall.) The reason for that is that you're only seeing a fraction of what they do or who they are, and you don't know how many previous people they've listened to how many previous times. It's a very different situation from someone whose job is making some major TV series or movie or something. That person does, in my opinion, owe you some amount of listening.

Now, I'm not saying no top Joe fan was ever a jerk. I'll bet they were. There's a tendency to be rude and to publicly air your schadenfreude when you feel like everyone has been yelling at you. What I am saying is that a lot of the problem here boils down to conflicting needs, and that means there isn't a good solution. It's a situation where people are genuinely hurt, but I don't necessarily agree that other people have harmed them.

I like that you did an actual count of the explicit fics, btw. It's good to look at the real numbers. I see too little of that in these situations. My off the cuff reaction is that 2/3 to 1/3 is not a bad ratio at all compared to many fandoms, but yeah, it definitely shows a strong trend, and that can be painful. (I have a fandom where I think there's maybe like 1 bottom so-and-so fic in the entire zine era fandom. One. It's pretty extreme.)

I guess my thinking here overall is: What is the practical solution? What are we hoping to gain? What is reasonable to ask of people?

And it can't be "Well, if they would just listen..." That's just a sneaky way of saying "If you haven't done it my way, it's because you haven't listened to me yet."

So the question I would ask of people is this:

What does a non-racist fic where Joe tops look like?

What does a non-racist sex pollen, dubcon, or even noncon fic where Joe tops look like?

And if you say the latter is impossible... well... sadists exist everywhere in the world. So do doms. So do people who prefer to top in a purely physical sense. People with rape fantasies where they're the rapist exist (people who are not actually rapists, I mean). None of this is restricted to any one group. We can't categorically say fic like that about Joe is coming from a place of racism without denying the fundamental humanity of kinky MENA people who'd want to make Joe like themselves or like their ideal partner. (Yes, I agree this won't be the majority of fic writers writing top!Joe, but this is a place to start for figuring out what the better version would look like.)

IDK, maybe you're that kinkster yourself, but your asks gave me the vibe that you don't really get the drive towards those darker kinds of fics and what might be motivating it besides stereotypes and shittiness.

If we can answer these kinds of questions, we can better critique the way people write what they write without telling them all of their taste is bad and they should just stop writing. Even if we think the latter is true, it isn't going to get us anywhere. Figuring out how to make Joe more multidimensional in the fic they already want to write or finding very specific wording that should be avoided might actually work.

Beyond that, the actions I think are productive would be running prompt fests, exchanges, or other events for bottom!Joe or for top!Joe where he's the main character and the fics are required to be from his POV. Themed collections and recs lists are great. (I've seen a bit of this going around in TOG fandom in the past, and that's an excellent approach! Keep it up!) Positive actions tend to work better here. Make more of what you want. Promote what you want to see.

I don't mean this in some fluffy magical thinking way: you aren't going to change that ratio radically just by the power of positivity. But I've seen this kind of thing play out in many, many fandoms, and going after the people who write what you don't like, even in a well-intentioned effort to educate and even in a polite, kind way doesn't do much. A few people feel guilty. A few feel defensive. A lot ignore you. The overall fic doesn't change. It's not a good use of your limited time and energy.

I'm off to look up that fic to see what I think of it in practice, but I'm going to post this before tumblr manages to eat it.

[only-johnny-deppp]

“Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...” 

 Johnny Depp’s NEW INTERVIEW!

Last saturday, August 14, The UK Times, released a new interview with Johnny for the Sunday Times section. It was realized sometime earlier this month, in London, probably on the same day he and Andrew Levitas were recording for the Q&A for the “Minamata” release in UK. This is Johnny’s first interview since the UK trials in London last year, and released three years after Johnny’s major interview for the British GQ Magazine. Here Johnny and Andrew Levitas speaks about “Minamata”, his future as actor and a thing or two about his personal life, although he cannot talk about the court case.

For those who couldn’t read yet, here is the FULL interview:  Enjoy.

***

“I’M BEING BOYCOTTED BY HOLLYWOOD”

Johnny Depp has a new film out this week. In the opening scene his character, the real-life photographer W Eugene Smith, says, “I’m done. I’m tired. My body is older than I am. I’m always in goddam pain. I can’t trust my f***ing dick any more. Constantly in a foul mood. Even the drugs bore me.”

I ask Depp if Smith’s despair resonated with him. Depp stops. Rocks back and forth. “That’s interesting,” he replies with painful hesitation.

“I didn’t approach playing Smith in that way… Although you bring your toolbox to work and use what is available. Having experienced...” He stops again. Depp takes any questions that might refer to his calamitous libel case last year slowly, in a mumbly, croaking drawl. “A surreal five years…”

In the film Smith needs to revive his reputation. In real life Depp’s task is even more daunting. Thanks to the judgment, everyone can call him a “wife-beater”. Now he must convince a Hollywood still convulsed by #MeToo that he’s not toxic — and that any attempt to rebuild his career is a risk worth taking. This is Depp’s first interview since the case.

We are speaking over Zoom, Depp in his London home, in front of a gold-framed painting. The 58-year-old is wearing a lot of clothes. Earrings. Floppy hat. Sunglasses. Bandana. Scarf. Checked shirt over a T-shirt with an indiscernible slogan. If you saw him on the Tube*, you might think he was off to work at the London Dungeon*, to play most of the characters.

PS. For those who are not familiar with British words: * Tube = British slang for London Underground, the subway trains. * London Dungeon = is a walk-through experience that recreates scenes from London's scary history in a mixture of live actors, special effects and rides.

Depp resumes, talking in broken sentences about the new film, Minamata, in which Smith, via Life magazine, exposes the brutal mercury poisoning of Japanese villagers in the early 1970s.

“How do we do this?” he asks rhetorically, meaning how to speak about the elephant in the Zoom. “Well, there’s no way one can’t recognise the absurdity of the mathematics.” He grins. “If you know what I mean?” No. “Absurdity of media mathematics.” He talks in riddles. “Whatever I’ve gone through, I’ve gone through. But, ultimately, this particular arena of my life has been so absurd...”

He trails off again. He is holding a big brown roll-up of some sort. “What the people in Minamata dealt with? People who suffered with Covid? A lot of people lost lives. Children sick...Ill. Ultimately, in answer to your question? Yeah, you use what you’ve got. But what I’ve been through? That’s like getting scratched by a kitten. Comparatively.”

Last July, I went to the High Court in London to watch Depp on another screen — a video from the socially distanced court where the Hollywood star was losing a libel action against The Sun after it called him a “wife-beater”. It was the grottiest showbiz trial of the century. There were photos of the actor passed out in a foetal slump, socks on show. One lengthy exchange involved faeces. Another urination, inside or outside a house, after a violent night with his ex-wife Amber Heard.

This had all been going on for a while. In 2016 Heard applied for a temporary restraining order against him. The couple had long endured a narcotic, booze-filled, childish relationship, but that does not matter — 12 incidents levelled against Depp were proved, said the judge, and abuse is abuse, regardless of how badly they both behaved. Depp wanted to appeal, but the court said no. Next April in the US he has a $50 million defamation case against Heard relating to an opinion piece she wrote about being the victim of domestic abuse. It may be his last roll of the dice.

In the 1990s Depp was a sensitive heart-throb. Cooler than DiCaprio, edgier than Pitt. In this past year he has been stripped of his status and dignity. On day three of the trial Sasha Wass QC, representing The Sun, asked Depp about daubing a penis on a painting. He could not remember. “That would be quite a big thing, painting a penis on a picture?”  Wass asked. “Quite a big thing?” Depp asked.

It was a well-delivered line, but Depp was on show. Performing. Now he is more timid, less lucid. His people say he cannot talk about the court case given the looming US trial, yet it hangs over everything. The director of Minamata, Andrew Levitas, is also on our call — as a pub trivia aside, Levitas is married to the Welsh singer Katherine Jenkins.

The two men clearly get on. “With regards to journalism, it was important for us to put across in the film the power of truth,” Levitas says. Depp nods. “The responsibility of journalists to look after citizens of the world. [Our film] coincided with the moment important publications had to put Raquel Welch on a cover to get enough eyeballs to sell enough ads in order to put something meaningful inside. A result of that is clickbait — it’s destroying the purpose of journalism,” Levitas continues.

“You said it beautifully,” says Depp, one of the world’s most pinned-up men, who built a career on magazine covers. “I couldn’t say it better than that.”

Last month Levitas wrote to MGM, which bought Minamata for the US market but decided not to release it. He accused MGM of being concerned that “the personal issues of an actor in the film could reflect negatively upon them”. Then the letter got really strong. Levitas accused MGM of failing in its “moral obligation” to release the film and said it needed to explain to the victims “why you think an actor’s personal life is more important than their dead children”. He then attached Smith’s photos of ghastly deformities that shocked the world 50 years ago.

“It’s important that the movie gets seen and supported,” Levitas says. “And if I get an inkling it’s not going to be, it’s my responsibility to say so. Where it goes from there? I don’t know. But we have responsibility to these victims . . .”

You can see why he’s passionate. The film is good. MGM bought the film because it is good. Depp is good too. He disappears into the role, far from his more recent pantomime parts. It’s being released worldwide, just not in the actor’s homeland.

Depp, who also produced the film, interrupts. “We looked these people in the eyeballs and promised we would not be exploitative. That the film would be respectful. I believe that we’ve kept our end of the bargain, but those who came in later should also maintain theirs.”

“Some films touch people,” he adds. “And this affects those in Minamata and people who experience similar things. And for anything…” He pauses, as he does. “For Hollywood’s boycott of, erm, me? One man, one actor in an unpleasant and messy situation, over the last number of years?” He trails off. “But, you know, I’m moving towards where I need to go to make all that…” Again, he trails off. “To bring things to light.”

The fact, as I think Depp knows, is that for his career, the court that matters is not one of law, but public opinion. On social media, where a lot of minds are made up, Depp’s good reputation will always outweigh the bad, thanks to his frequently blinkered fans.

Outside the High Court, as Heard arrived, I saw Natasha, 30, yell: “Get hit by a truck, Amber!” She is extreme, but the persistent way his fans demand that others think their idol is a saint shows a career revival will happen. After all, most filmgoers do not follow his private life at all. To them, he is Jack Sparrow, Edward Scissorhands. To them, he is a star — and a star can take an awful lot of heat before it burns out.

“They have always been my employers,” Depp says of his fans. “They are all our employers. They buy tickets, merchandise. They made all of those studios rich, but they forgot that a long time ago. I certainly haven’t. I’m proud of these people, because of what they are trying to say, which is the truth. The truth they’re trying to get out since it doesn’t in more mainstream publications. It’s a long road that sometimes gets clunky. Sometimes just plain stupid. But they stayed on the ride with me and it’s for them I will fight. Always, to the end. Whatever it may be.”

Depp will talk like this for ever — about his “truth”. Minamata is the last film Depp has listed on the industry site IMDb, where actors usually have half a dozen in development. So, yes, fans of the actor can see Depp in a new role now — it is a return, but is it a relaunch? The film was finished in 2019, way before last year’s court case. Is that it? His last film? He thinks and looks off to his bookshelves, at biographies of Betjeman and Olivier.

“Er...no,” he says, eventually. “No. No. Actually, I look forward to the next few films I make to be my first films, in a way. Because once you’ve...Well, look. The way they wrote it in The Wizard of Oz is that when you see behind the curtain, it’s not him. When you see behind the curtain, there’s a whole lot of motherf***ers squished into one spot. All praying that you don’t look at them. And notice them.”

I would ask him to explain, but I am not sure he is an explainer. Watch this space, I guess, but he is already taking a first step back. After we speak, it is announced Depp is getting the coveted Donostia award at the San Sebastian Film Festival next month. Some people are just too famous to fail.

~ Interview by Jonathan Dean, in London, for The Times UK (released on August 14, 2021)

[littleoddwriter]

Heavy Heart | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

Another Vent Fic, sorry. This time with Arrowverse!Roman Sionis (Batwoman Season 2), though. The episodes still aren’t out here, but I think I’ve seen enough Clips to at least get his voice and feel right. Sorry if not (in case anyone even ends up reading this).

summary; You’re struggling with personal issues, regarding your interpersonal relationships. Roman unexpectedly shows up at your doorstep and you have a heart-to-heart.

notes; Male!Reader; Reader has Borderline Personality Disorder; Favourite Person (FP); Rejection; Abandonment Issues; Spiralling; Mild Dissociation; Self-Harm (Scratching and Cutting); Blood; Hurt/Comfort; Unexpected Visit; Love Confessions; Soft Kisses; Hugs; Little Dialogue.

It’s only been a couple of months, since you and Roman have started dating. Honestly, you’d never expected it to happen at all. You’ve been his assistant at Janus Cosmetics for over two years at that point, while you’ve been silently crushing on him the entire time. So to say that you were ecstatic about the fact that he liked you, too, would’ve been an understatement.

Naturally, as it always happened, Roman has become your new Favourite Person all too quickly and crushingly. Of course, at this point in your still blooming relationship you couldn’t care less, because you were happy, you were on top of the world when you only thought about him and the way he kissed you and wrapped his arms around your waist.

Still, in the back of your mind, this tiny voice kept reminding you that every time you’ve had an FP in your life, it didn’t end well; and it never lasted very long – a year tops, maybe. So, you were cautious, like you always were. You were hyper aware of everything you said and did around him; how often you texted him; how fast you responded to him; how many gifts you made for him and how much time passed in-between them. All so you wouldn’t fuck it up by being too much or too little. You were desperately trying to find this golden balance between it all.

The last time you had a Favourite Person wasn’t too long ago, actually. They had still been it when Roman has asked you on your first date with him. But not even a week afterwards, they had suddenly stopped responding to your texts and ignored you. They had never tried to contact you again and you were far too afraid and anxious to do it on your own accord after too much time has passed already. After all, you had already convinced yourself that they had lost interest in you and hated your guts all of a sudden.

Of course, you had tried to forget about them, which was made a little easier by the fact that your entire focus was on one Roman Sionis. Still, it didn’t prevent you from thinking about this supposed friend at least once a day, if not more, and wondering where it had gone wrong and if the same would happen with Roman very soon. It was bound to happen after all, and since this particular friendship had ended so very suddenly after not even four months, you could only fear how long your relationship with Roman would last.

Every single day, you tried your damnedest not to ponder too much and let anxiety overtake your body. Instead, you attempted to just focus on Roman and how much you loved him, which was a whole lot and far too much, to the point where it caused your chest to hurt. Often times, you wondered if it would be acceptable of you to already say those three particular words to him, or if that would ruin everything. You were incredibly uncertain, and he never seemed as though he was going to say them any time soon. Either way, you forced yourself to be patient and not fuck everything up again.

The fact that Roman had asked you out, even though he very much knew about your BPD diagnosis had shocked you to your core, but it somewhat calmed you down to know that it wasn’t a secret between you two (you had even checked in with him if he really knew upon his question). Still, you often wondered if he was truly aware of how much baggage you had on your shoulders and just how exhausting it could be to be in a relationship with a person who had this particular disorder – not only for you, but for him as well.

As the months have stretched on with barely an incident between you two, you had allowed yourself to get a tiny bit more comfortable. Whether or not you should regret it was beyond you, when your best friends have suddenly ceased to respond to your texts and more and more people around you have seemed to ignore you. At first you’ve given it all some time and tried not to jump to conclusions, because you knew they were all busy with their own lives and weren’t always in the mood to talk or text – and you respected that, you knew exactly what that was like.

But as two days have turned into four and essentially a whole week, you couldn’t help yourself anymore.

Feelings of utter loneliness and rejection overcame you in waves. You’ve been short of crying every couple of minutes; your chest hurt so much; your skin felt so tight – you desperately wanted to claw it off.

Then, you started to isolate yourself more and more. At work, you acted mostly normal, just like always – putting on this mask of being fine and a good worker – when in reality, your entire world was falling apart piece by piece.

None of it went past Roman, of course, he was way too perceptive for that. But when he asked you what was wrong, you deflected the question and said that it wasn’t important, it would be okay in a few hours or days anyway.

That wasn’t the case, though.

It didn’t get better at all. The feelings just wouldn’t go away. Every time you looked at your phone and saw all the unanswered messages you’d sent out to people weeks and months ago made your heart heavy and your chest tighten painfully. The more time passed, the worse it got.

Eventually, you also just couldn’t help wondering about Roman and doubting his interest in you. Was he truly interested in you at all? Would he have enough of you soon? Would he drop you gently or harshly? Would you even still have a job when he did? Fuck, it certainly wasn’t the best idea to date your boss, was it?

As you sat at your desk at home, preparing Roman’s schedule for the next week, your phone suddenly pinged. Immediately you took it into your hands to see if it was Roman – he was the only one who you were talking to at all anymore, after all. But then you saw that it was your previous Favourite Person, the one right before Roman. They had reacted to something you had posted on social media. They had commented on it as though they hadn’t suddenly stopped talking to you months ago.

As soon as you saw it, your eyes burned with tears that suddenly pricked them, your heart clenched so painfully and your skin was crawling. You were hurt and confused. It was all too much.

Just half an hour before that you had exchanged a few texts with an acquaintance you had on social media, which was as unfulfilling as it always had been. They clearly didn’t care about you, since they would never once truly ask how you were feeling, but in fact only talked about themselves and their life’s struggles. You were nothing but a tool for them to vent their worries to without an ounce of care in what you had to say in the least. It was a role you’d been very much used to, but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

So, naturally all of this was a lot for you to process – too much, really – and you felt so many negative emotions all at once. They were crushing you. You were in agony.

As the urge to hurt yourself to relieve the emotional pain and exchange it with a temporary physical one overcome you, you forced yourself to take a few deep breaths and distract yourself first, before you did something you would later regret.

Unfortunately, it only lasted for a few minutes at a time, as the urge became bigger and your anguish stronger.

Only a few hours later, you decided to shower and as soon as you got dressed, you couldn’t even think twice before your fingernails met your neck’s skin and scratched it open. You stared at yourself in the mirror as your hands just kept on moving, all across your neck and collarbones, scratching away intensely until it was bright red, irritated and bleeding.

For a moment, you inspected the fresh wounds.

It still wasn’t enough.

You quickly disinfected the irritated, scratched-open areas and then proceeded to take out the small blade you kept in the drawer below your bathroom sink. Then, you pressed it against your inner forearm and drew a small, deep line with it, causing blood to well up instantly as sharp pain shot through you. You set the blade down and squeezed around your wound, forcing out more blood. You desperately needed to see it flow out of you.

A few seconds passed and you took the blade back into your hand and rested it a few inches below your fresh cut.

You hesitated.

Shaking your head, you put it back into the drawer and instead nursed your still bleeding wound.

After all, you’ve already done more than enough damage.

The loud and sudden ringing of your doorbell startled you and you quickly, but quietly, walked towards your apartment door to look through the peephole. Roman stood in front of your door.

Were you supposed to meet him and you forgot amidst all the pain you’ve been in?

Nervously, you opened the door and smiled at him. It hurt to smile. You could only guess how strained it must have looked, not to forget the angry red and mildly bleeding wounds on your neck that you had no way of hiding, then.

“Roman, wh- what are you doing here? Sorry, uh, come in first, maybe,” you stammered out your awkward greeting, stepping to the side to let Roman into your apartment, while your heart violently hammered against your rib cage.

“I’m sorry for suddenly coming by, but I’ve actually been in the area and thought I could pay you a little visit. I missed you,” he replied as he walked past you and hung his coat on the hook on the wall, “Besides, I tried to let you know by sending you a text, but I suppose you were busy showering by the looks of it.”

“Oh- yeah. Yes, sorry. It’s okay, though. I missed you, too. I’m glad to see you,” you responded softly, nervously looking around the room and avoiding his eyes.

Suddenly his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you close, your bodies flush against one another. His left arm travelled up and around when he cupped your cheek with his hand and gently stroked his thumb over it, before he leaned in to kiss you on the lips. You were entirely too overwhelmed and still a little beside yourself, but you reciprocated the chaste kiss automatically and put your arms around his shoulders.

When he broke the kiss, he looked you over. You could feel the shame crawling beneath your skin, making you feel far too hot.

“I didn’t catch you at a good time, did I?” he inquired quietly, grazing his fingers over the wounds on your neck so very lightly so as not to hurt you more.

Because of how tight your throat felt, you could only shake your head and avert your gaze.

Roman heaved a deep sigh and kissed your forehead softly, “It’s okay, sweetheart. You don’t have to hide from me,” he murmured against your brow, “May I ask what’s caused this?”

Hesitating, you opened and closed your mouth a couple of times, so short of crying again, as you thought about whether or not it would scare him off if you told him the truth. In the end, you nodded, though.

“Let’s sit down first, please. Can I get you something to drink?” you said brokenly, daring to look at him for a second.

“Water, please.”

Quickly, you walked into the kitchen and got Roman a glass of water, while he sat down on your couch in the living room. Your hand was shaking when you passed him the glass and he looked at you with such a soft expression that it took your breath away.

Why wasn’t he up and running already?

When you sat down next to him, he set the glass down on the table in front of you two and put his arm around you, once more pulling you close against him. Your sides pressed together and you allowed yourself to rest your head against his shoulder.

“You can tell me as much or as little as you want, okay, my sweet boy?” he told you softly and kissed your temple shortly.

Nodding, you inhaled deeply and exhaled a shuddery breath. Then, you started to tell him everything that’s been going on lately and how much it all hurt. Sometime into your explanation the tears that have burned your eyes started to flow and run down your reddened face, leaving painful streaks behind. All the while, Roman was quietly shushing you and rubbing your upper arm soothingly, and peppering gentle kisses on the top of your head.

When you were done talking, you squeezed your eyes shut and pressed your entire body into Roman’s side in an attempt to both vanish and be close to him one last time, before he would leave you (at least that was what you’ve expected to happen anyway).

Instead, Roman wrapped his other arm around you as well and embraced you tightly, lovingly.

“I’m not going to leave you, baby. I’m not going anywhere. It angers me to know how much pain people have caused you in your life, especially as of late, but I won’t be one of them, alright?” he assured you and kissed your temple once more. “I love you, Y/N.”

Stopping to breathe altogether, you could barely believe what you’ve just heard.

Despite your disbelief, you choked out a quiet “I love you, too, Roman. So much”.

The issues that caused you so much pain in the first place may not have been solved with it, but you felt a little more secure in your relationship with Roman now, at least. That way, you could now quiet down these nagging thoughts in the back of your mind that kept telling you that he was going to drop you any second.

Sighing deeply, you relaxed a little and wrapped your arms around Roman’s middle as you pressed your face into his chest.

For the time being, you could pretend that everything was going to be alright.

[fishmech]

tbh it's pretty unrelatable to me when people are I like "I realized I was trans because of porn" or "I realized I was trans because of this piece of media"

because for me it was like just a steadily increasing presence of out and semi-out trans people irl and online. like starting when I was like in freshman year in high school and someone who was an op on one of the IRC channels I was in decided to come out and change their name on chat and like, she didn't answer many questions but her fellow ops made sure the people who were angry about this had to keep their mouths shut and respect her, and she just continued to talk with this channel of most luck tween and teen webcomic nerds and just, be a person even tho it had been illegal to even be gay in some states just months before she came out to us.

of course before then, before I was 13, there had been people I'd heard of who were trans. People who ran websites or made art or whatever, but none of them were like people who I could just talk to. They certainly weren't people I'd already talked to before or sent silly little jokes on their birthday. So I never really connected my feelings on gender that eventually led to me being a nonbinary trans woman to any of them. But @sarah letting us know that after being @deadname (don't ask me why so many of the "staff" across the forum and chat preferred to use their real first names, when most of the user base preferred typical internet names, it was just a thing to do with these (late gen x/early millenial? in fact at those times today's oldest millenials were considered young gen x) people even tho it was kinda old fashioned) she was still just as good a part of the community meant a lot to me.

and afterward I'd find myself in a lot of communities where a lot of people eventually ended up coming out as trans. Practically every community I was active in in the 2000s led to a bunch of trans spectrum people happening and I'm no exception. The "Sarah moments" just kept happening more often - and with less backlash and eventually no backlash. That's what drove me, ongoing friendship and companionship, not any mere attraction to particular people or being a fan of something.

And tbh it's also why I don't relate to or even like a lot of stuff that purports to involve like people who are transitioning or have transitioned but only recently like, I know it's of course things people relate to today but it speaks very little to my own experience at best and contradicts my experience as like a valid thing to consider at worst.

Cuz I ended up having deep involvement with lesbian friendship/relationship/no not that ex the other one/etc networks way before I allowed myself to think of my presence as being more than token "straight" "guy" ally who happened to to relate hard to the shit people were talking about. I ended up being someone guiding maybe a total of hundreds of trans people in different directions through biomedical and social transition before I could accept I should do it. I gave an easy dozen people new names of which half have kept them, before I could name myself.

It's always about experiencing a community for me, not something simpler where frankly I could have figured out earlier.

[princess-of-disappointment]

Favourite Ex

Hi Hi!

This was not a request. I actually was just listening to Favourite Ex by Maisie Peters and this idea crept onto me. I love this song and even though I can’t say I personally have an ex or a favorite ex, I can say that it gets me in the feels EVERY SINGLE TIME. I hope you all enjoy this piece even if the song isn’t what you usually listen to or you’re not a fan of angst.

Now I must remind y’all that this is a work of fiction. In this piece both y/n and Corpse do bad things. I just wanted the story to fit the story that the song had presented so things happened… In other words, he’s more of a character in this fic. This is not what I think he would be like in real life, but for the sake of the story and the song, this is how I portrayed him. This is just a story of fiction and nothing that I wrote into this character portrayal of Corpse is what I seriously think he could be like.

Now with that out of the way, thank you for understanding and, again, I hope you enjoy this fic.

-----

Favourite Ex

Pairing: Corpse Husband x Reader (y/n)

Warning: ANGST just pure ANGST, TOXIC (both parties in the relationship showcase toxic behaviors or thoughts)

Specific Warning: Cussing as it just fit the vibe so I went with it, the end of a relationship, cheating, alcohol, TOXIC

Summary: You both knew the end was coming soon, you just didn’t know it would be this painful.

Song: Favourite Ex by Maisie Peters

Word Count: 1,754

-----

It was open and closing

And hopelessly hoping for shore

We were here, we were ghosting

Both of us coasting on 'just give a little more'

You both had been able to see that it was the end before it happened. Neither of you seemed to be happy anymore with each other and how things were. Most nights, you weren’t even sleeping in the same bed as one another, him opting for the futon in his recording office, if he were to get any sleep that night.

Even though neither of you felt as though your relationship was as it was anymore, neither of you wanted to admit it. So you took these changes and marked it all down to a rough patch that you would eventually move past.

You still folded his laundry at night and he still made your coffee in the morning.

You avoided stepping on one another’s toes and everything was fine.

It was all out my hands when you pulled the trigger

And I kissed your friends 'cause your friends said you kissed her

And I didn't flinch, and the lights didn't flicker and I

I fell apart

Until it wasn’t.

It eventually got to the point where neither of you could deny the change anymore, but when Corpse had pointed it out one dreary Wednesday morning, you were more than unhappy that he had pointed it out. You had thought that you both would continue ignoring it and that everything would go back to normal after just some time.

You had believed that all you needed was some time. But when it became revealed that same Wednesday that there was more going on, you were beyond heartbroken.

After your spat about Corpse pointing out the change that morning, he had gone to shower leaving his phone on the kitchen counter. Normally you wouldn’t think anything of it, but when it kept buzzing and buzzing, you couldn’t help but look over. Once you caught sight of the messages, you knew you couldn’t turn back to how things were before.

From: Dave

What the hell dude?

- Picture included -

When the fuck did this happen?

Does y/n know?

The picture in question? A picture of Corpse kissing someone who certainly wasn’t you.

And you fell apart.

You were my best nights and worst fights

And couldn't care less

You were my gold rush to cold touch

Favourite ex

And all of the others cancel out each other

And it's always you left

You were my no sleep, cried for weeks

Favourite ex

Neither of you left the house often so you were able to pinpoint exactly when this happened - just a week ago when he had told you he was going to go hang out with the boys. Did he see them at all that day or was it all a big cover-up?

As you heard the shower turn off, you wiped your tears and grabbed your phone before heading out the front door. You had no intentions of leaving, you just couldn’t bring yourself to confront him and fight once again today. So you took yourself outside and decided to sit on the porch and watch the moving traffic of the street ahead of you. You just wanted time to process.

By time you came back in, he was in the kitchen. You had grabbed the mail on your way back in and set it down on the counter next to him. He looked over at you, “You didn’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine I was out there and figured I might as well grab it.”

He smiled slightly and kissed your forehead, but then went back to frowning a bit when he felt your brows furrow against his lips, “Are you still mad about earlier?”

You turn to look at him square in the face, “I’m not mad about earlier.” You weren’t lying about that fact. The spat earlier was nothing compared to what those messages on his phone made you feel, “I think I’m going to go lay down for a bit.”

“Okay. I’ve got a stream in like 10, so I’m going to go get ready for that.”

And with that you fled to the bedroom. It took everything in you to not run down the halls to get there so it felt as though every step taken took an eon to get there.

While you sat on the bed with the door closed, during those 10 minutes that you could hear Corpse getting ready for his stream, mentally, physically, and emotionally ready, all you could think about was the fact that he had kissed a girl - someone who wasn’t you.

It was stabs in the back

And the nice things you said when you were wasted

I was looking for something

And changing the one thing you hated

You think back to that night. What happened when he had gotten home that night.

Both of you had a bit to drink that night, but you were both happy. So fucking happy for the first in a long time. He had said all the right things that night that made your heart beat faster and he had made you feel as though you two were the only two in the world.

With this new intel you had, it made you think back on the night and wonder if any of it was real. Did he mean anything that he had said that night? Or was it all an excuse to make himself feel better for the mistake he had made earlier that night.

You weren’t sure and honestly, it felt as though a knife was tearing through your back straight into your heart and you couldn’t stand the fact that someone you loved so dearly made you feel this way.

Since day one, you had made changes to fit his needs and what he wanted from you to feel comfortable. He had done the same, but to see all that effort just for him to cheat? It hurt. It hurt a whole lot. You changed socially for him: unlike with past relationships you weren’t as bent out of shape about not going out for dates because you knew it was difficult for him. You changed emotionally for him: you focused more on making him feel better about himself than yourself because you knew he struggled with his self-image than you did. Yet these changes didn’t seem to be enough in the long run.

It was all out my hands when you pulled the trigger

And I kissed your friends 'cause your friends said you kissed her

And I didn't flinch, and the lights didn't flicker and I

I fell apart

In the heat of the moment, with racing thoughts you made up your mind.

If he had kissed someone else, I should too.

Was it the best of decisions? No, but once you had gotten on that train of thought, you couldn’t stop yourself. You picked up your phone and left the bedroom, grabbing your keys as you slipped on your shoes before heading out the front door once more.

You aren’t sure how or why it happened. Perhaps fate was playing a nasty trick on you and Corpse as by the time you had walked your way over to the local coffee shop, you happened to have run into one of Corpse’s friends. What better way to get revenge than to kiss one of his friends?

Before you could even process what you had done or what you were doing, you were pulling your lips off of Corpse’s friend’s and staring at them in horror. What have you done?

And you were my best nights and worst fights

And couldn't care less

You were my gold rush to cold touch

Favourite ex

And all of the others cancel out each other

And it's always you left

You were my no sleep, cried for weeks

Favourite ex

By time you had made your way home, Corpse had gotten a message from his friend about what happened and he was fuming.

You two hashed it out that evening with both infidelities now out in the open.

By the end of the night, you had packed up your things and left leaving your house keys on the kitchen counter next to the mail that you had brought in earlier.

My favourite ex

(2...3...)

It’s been a year now since that night. Even though you two haven’t spoken since, you can’t help but look back on it often.

You often wondered how the situation would have been different if you were to have confronted him about seeing the messages in the first place.

You wondered what his excuse would have been.

You wondered about what if you had never seen those messages in the first place.

You wondered what would have happened if you had left that morning.

You wondered if he had seen her again.

You still checked in on him on social media often and despite your separation, it made you proud and happy to see him flourishing despite your parting. It made you happy to see that he was able to move on and be happy despite the hurt that you both had endured a year ago.

You were my best nights and worst fights

And deepest breaths

You were my gold rush to cold touch

Favourite ex

And all of the others cancel out each other

And it's always you left

'Cause you were my no sleep, cried for weeks

Favourite ex

Even though a year ago this man had caused you so much pain, you couldn’t help but remember all the good that came out of the relationship.

You were stronger now and before the end had come, he had treated you better than any of your previous exes. He had respected you and you could tell that he had genuinely cared and listened to you when you talked. He had treated you like royalty and no other ex had ever made you feel as loved as he had.

Although it ended in pain, you couldn’t help but think you wouldn’t trade meeting him for the world. Sure, the end sucked, but you had so many memories together that meant so much to you. Your relationship with him lasted three years of your life and together you two had grown, but you also had grown apart. People do sometimes grow apart.

And despite it all, he had to be your favorite ex.

[rosy-cheekx]

I Want To Be A Real Fake

@kaiserkorresponds said: Black and White + "I want to be a real fake" + formal clothing <3

Prompted fic that I haven’t been able to stop thinking about since I received it! Hope you like it, Kaiser!

-

Jon would not consider himself fashionable. He has a distinct sense of style, yes, but that style lately has been Tired-Academic-Works-in-a-Cold-Office,-Steals-Sweaters-When-Necessary-core. Not exactly suitable for the business casual dress code The Magnus Institute “requires” (no one seemed to pay attention to the Archive staff’s choices of attire), but certainly not suitable for the small rectangle of cardstock Elias Bouchard hands him, on a quiet spring morning in the Archive.

“What’s…what’s this?” Jon asked, staring at the neat, printed text as if it was Greek. (If it were Greek, at least, he could decipher parts of it. He was an English Lit student, after all, and he had really enjoyed etymology.) The card was a stiff black and white, with the black owl logo, the symbol of the Magnus Institute, printed in the top middle. Glancing down at it, he saw a date, and the words: “black-tie.” Shit.

“My apologies, I forgot how tired your position tends to leave you.” Elias’s voice was prim and polite, but Jon still winced inwardly. “As a head of a department, you are now strongly encouraged to attend the fundraiser I host in April each year. Our donors are fascinated by our departments, and especially the Archives. Gertrude’s disappearance has raised questions as to her successor, and I trust you can assuage the concerns of our donors at your accomplishments in the position.” Jon chose to believe that Elias’s keen eye didn’t sweep the mountains of paperwork that surrounded his desk as he surveyed the small, poorly lit office. “I’m certain you’ll be able to find appropriate attire for the occasion.”

He turned on a heel, halfway to the door before seemingly considering something. “Ah, and Jon, one more thing. Gertrude always requested she bring an assistant. Would you like to do the same? I am happy to accommodate one more for the catering count.”

Jon snapped his mouth shut, utterly dumbfounded by the responsibility just thrust upon him, and nodded mutely, before clearing his throat. “Ah-um, yes, I would appreciate that. Does it matter which one?”

“Someone who can make a pleasant impression, please.” Elias raised an eyebrow, nodded almost imperceptibly, like he had made a decision, and rapped his knuckles on the doorframe on the way out. “I trust your judgement.”

Jon counted to thirty, to be certain Elias wasn’t coming back, and slouched into his office chair, scanning the save-the-date again, without the immense pressure of Elias’s eyes on him.

“The Magnus Institute Fundraiser Gala,” it read below the embossed owl, within a thin black border. “23 April, 7-10 pm. Black tie. Catered.” Jon traced the owl with the pad of his finger, flipping the card over to see, in Elias’s thin cursive: Make a good impression, Jon.

God, this is going to suck.

-

“Sasha, come on.” Jon wasn’t one to beg, but desperate times and all that. He had cornered her in the breakroom, while Martin was on a research trip and Tim was getting takeaway from the chippie down the street. “It’s only three weeks away, and you’re the one I trust the most. Please.”

“Jon,” Sasha sighed, smoothing her skirt patiently. “I would if I could, I swear to you. But my sister’s wedding has been planned for months, I’ve already requested time off, and I can’t undo all that for a work party.”

“Fundraiser,” Jon corrected instinctively, even as he signed in resignation. “Fine. I just really didn’t want to go alone.”

Sasha scoffed, shaking her head to herself as she opened the fridge and pulled out her bagged lunch. “You have two other assistants you know. What about Tim? Or Martin?”

Jon wrinkled his nose at the thought of bringing nervous, rambling, doe-eyed Martin to the gala. “God no. Martin would be too much; I need someone who can handle themselves and hold a decent conversation. I need someone who can attend a black-tie gala and look more at-home than me.” A withering look from Sasha.

“So why not Tim, then? He can do all those things.”

“Do all what things?” Jon jumped and spun around to see Tim, carrying a grease-spotted bag in one hand and a paper soda cup in the other. He surveyed Tim in a moment: the button-up shirt, red and printed with tiny black balloons, sleeves rolled to the elbows. Sunglasses pushed to the top of his head, dark black hair artfully mussed. High cheekbones dotted with freckles, and what Jon swore could be the faintest bit of eyeliner.

“Tim, would you like to go to a fashionable, catered work party with me?”

“Boss,” Tim lowered himself to a knee and held out his soda solemnly. “I thought you’d never ask.”

“Tim, that’s backwards. The kneeler isn’t the one who accepts,” Sasha chuckles helpfully.

“You’re just jealous of our love, Sash!”

Good Lord.

-

Jon was really hoping the food would be good. He was in Tim’s flat, in the toilet, checking himself in the mirror one final time. His hair was carefully braided, courtesy of Tim’s deft hands and coiled into a thick bun at the base of his skull, gold and emerald hairpin snugly in place. His suit was nice: a respectable white shirt, dotted with tiny lime-colored flowers he had to strain his eyes to see, under a dark green suit jacket and matching trousers. The suit itself was cut in a rather androgynous style, pulling tight at Jon’s waist in a way he rather liked, and contrasted beautifully, he thought, with the smooth brown of his skin. He flicked an invisible piece of lint from his thigh and, satisfied, stepped into the hall to tell Tim he was ready to go.

“Tim, I’m all-woah,” the exhale was accidental. Tim’s suit was certainly not subtle. He was wearing a deep blue turtleneck, hair perfectly coiffed. Over the turtleneck, the suit jacket was white, a spray of water-color flowers in all shades of blue and purple shifting with every movement. The navy blue heeled suede boots on his feet accentuated his already-tall frame “Tim, you look good,” Jon breathed.

“Ouch. No need to sound all surprised. I know I clean up well; I dirty pretty damn good too.” Tim chuckled and adjusted his sleeves. “You don’t look so bad yourself, Mr. ‘I don’t want anything too crazy.’”

Jon grinned shyly, rocking on his heels of his own, less intimidating dress shoes. “I like it, I think. It feels nice.” The excitement over how good he felt in the clothes had, all too briefly, suppressed the impending doom he was feeling about the evening’s events. “Are you ready for tonight?” he asked for what must have been the fiftieth time, spinning the solid black ring he wore around his finger.

“Yes, Jon. Talk about the reorganization process as a structural renovation, converting files to audio formatting for future accessibility, don’t talk about artefact storage even a little, don’t get caught up with anyone too pretty, I get it.” His voice was flat, bored by the repetition. “This is going to be fine.”

“What-what if it isn’t, though, Tim? What if they ask about Gertrude or how their money is being used, o-or how the restructuring is going? I can’t bloody well tell them I’m using a tape recorder that’s probably older than I am.”

“Jon,” Tim’s well-manicured hand was on his shoulder, nails the same blue of his turtleneck. “Take a deep breath. For Gertrude: be honest. It was a tragedy, and you hope she’s found, but until then you’re doing your best to act on her wishes as her replacement. And for the rest, be vague. Restructuring is going ‘as well as can be expected’ or ‘is running quite smoothly with the help of your three wonderful assistants.’” He winked. “And tell them you’re using a multimedia system, that’ll confuse those old boomers enough to move topics. And it is technically true. Laptops and a tape recorder are multiple medias. Anything else we can riff, you know? I can talk with the best of them.” He eyed Jon meaningfully. “This will be fine. It’s one night. And we’ll get chips after. Promise.”

Jon nodded and closed his eyes, breathing steadying. He was grateful Tim had been available. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

-

“So, how did you know what black tie meant?” Jon asked, eyeing Tim across the seat of the cab. They’re on their way now and Jon’s hands are steepled tightly, pressing his fingertips against each other until it hurts to do so. “I had to Google it last week when I went shopping, in case we had to wear literal black ties.” He needed to talk about anything, anything but this stupid fundraiser they drove steadily towards.

Tim grew silent for a moment, considering his words. “My brother was an extra in a movie once and started dating a stylist for one of the leads. He fibbed his way into getting us tickets for premieres, so I’ve made my way through a few high-fashion events.” He shrugged, fiddling with a thin silver bracelet along his wrist, were Jon knew the letter D was carved in delicate cursive. “I like it, too, you know? Dressing up for events. It makes me feel debonaire, like a spy.”

Jon shook his head in disagreement. “Makes me feel fake,” he mumbled, eyeing the lorry floor beneath them. “Like everyone knows I don’t belong. I hate having their eyes on me and knowing they’re better than me.”

Tim prodded Jon with his elbow gently, raising his eyebrows in a comforting manner. “That’s it though, isn’t it? We aren’t fake. We worked our way here. Hell, you’re the boss of an entire department, Jon. We’ve gotten to where we are in the Institute because we deserve to be here. And anyways, everyone at that party next week is gonna be fake. They’re pretending to care about our jobs, and we pretend to care about their money, and they pretend they’re even the ones who write the checks and not some snooty financial advisor in Wales.”

Jon shrugged, trying to keep himself from biting back that he wasn’t enough, didn’t earn this spot, that Sasha deserved it more than he did and was doing nothing to prove to Elias he was up to the monumental task of being the Head Archivist. He didn’t, though, and instead took a steadying breath, nodding to Tim’s comforting words.

“And anyways,” Tim continued, shrugging. “Even if we have to be fake for a night, it’ll be fun. We get to be a part of ‘the queen’s high society,’” he added in a high-pitched, overly fake RP accent, eliciting a chuckle from Jon. “And Rosie said the catering Elias orders is divine. Apparently we should keep an eye out for tiny samosas?”

As if on cue, the cab shuddered to a stop. Jon thanked the driver, paid, and followed Tim out.

-

The Institute looked different under the pretense of wealth and success. It was still the same building of course, but the floor was clear of the rain mats and the smooth marble floor paved the way to the library, the main sitting room of which had been cleared as a rather respectable grand hall to host a party. Tables lined the cordoned off books, hot plates and silver trays steaming slightly. Bottles of wine lined a bar, behind which a vested individual with slicked-back hair was pouring small glasses and taking orders. A quiet orchestra completed the scene, cello and piano in a delicate duet. Before tonight, Jon couldn’t have imagined this many people in the Institute alone, least of all the library. Not that it’s packed. There’s maybe thirty or so well-dressed individuals milling about, the din of conversation white noise in comparison to the floating of the music.

Tim’s hand is on his back, pressing kindly into his spine. Oh yes, he remembers dimly, and nods, allowing Tim to guide him into the library and hand him a glass of wine. They stand out a little, two beacons of color around what is a pretty drab spectrum of black and grey, save for a few spectacular dresses in the crowd. Jon finds he doesn’t mind it, except that it may lead to unwanted conversation. It’s not his looks he fears being judged on, but that he be found wanting when it came to his capabilities. He was always selectively self-conscious like that, some things utterly meaningless, others inexplicably important.

Jon isn’t a huge fan of wine, but he finds himself clinging to the glass as a lifeline as he and Tim meander through the crowds, largely ignored. The music is intoxicatingly simple; he finds himself caught up in the deep reverberations of the cello as they walk, feeling it deep in his chest. There were, in fact, samosas, as well as small cannoli, and he and Tim piled plates as high as they could without garnering stares.

There weren’t many people Jon recognized; he didn’t even see Elias as he scanned the crowd for faces. Wine in one hand, a plate in the other, he thought maybe the night wouldn’t be too bad.

Jon shivered, the sensation of being stared at prickling the back of his neck. He spun around, trying to appear casual, and spotted Elias at last. He was standing with a large man, broad and wearing a deep blue suit, scruffy beard a mix of tawny and white. Elias crooked his finger, smiling primly. As Jon made his way over to the pair-who he could’ve sworn he hadn’t seen previously, he was intercepted by a short bald man in a plum velour suit, leaning heavily on a cane.

“Ah, Archivist,” he smiled warmly, extending a hand to shake before seeing Jon’s hands were full, and nodding his head instead. “Congratulations on your promotion. Elias has told me he expects great things from you.”

Jon smiled politely, glancing over to see Elias and the other man gone again. Regretfully, he turned his attention back to the man. “It’s a shame about Gertrude, yes, but I’m hoping I can do her proud,” he said in a practiced tone. He glanced over his shoulder. Where was Tim? He was just with him.

“Of course, of course. I was hoping I could have a word?”

“W-with me?”

“Yes, you see, I was rather concerned when I heard Gertrude’s position had been left open. When Elias said you yourself where at the junction to take over, I wanted to meet you for myself. I worry about the Archivists in your institute, so many of you do such monumental work for so little recognition. Do you worry your work to be meaningless?  Your name insignificant when it is all said and done?”

(It is this conversation he remembers, months later, when he demands to record Prentiss’ attack. He refuses to be another mystery, a name on a placard to be wondered about.)

“I-ah, yes? No?” What was the right answer here? Jon stammered out a half-assed reply about doing his best, midway through when he felt a hand firmly on his shoulder, where his neck and collarbone met. Glancing to his peripheral, he saw a golden ring, an eye, and was frustratingly grateful to hear the cool tones of Elias Bouchard over his shoulder.

“Now Simon,” he said, voice even, “you aren’t trying to scare my dear Archivist, are you?” He gave the shoulder a squeeze but remained put. “Jon, I believe you’ve heard of Simon Fairchild, a significant donor to our establishment.”

Jon nodded wordlessly, not really listening to the two bureaucrats delve off into some topic or other, craning his neck to look for Tim. The music had picked up, he registered dimly, a orchestral melody led by a violin, sharp and whimsical.

“Jon?” Another squeeze to his neck, and Jon tried not to wince. “Wouldn’t you agree,” Elias asked, voice patient at surface level. “That the best way to move forward is to restructure the Archive?”

Jon nodded, trying to recall the answer he had rehearsed. “Yes, ah—my team and I have worked quite hard at recording the statements a-and organizing them in a way that will last long-term.”

“Ah, what a delight,” Simon—Mr. Fairchild—said warmly. Jon was reminded of the voices adults would use when they spoke to him as a child, when his inane facts about space or etymology had moved from endearing to obnoxious.

The conversation lasted for what felt like days, Jon feeling rather like Mr. Fairchild’s cane: a statement piece, contributing nothing to the conversation but unable to find a smooth exit. Leading questions from Elias led to thankfully rehearsed answers before Simon found his own exit and walked away smoothly, eyes wide and taking the room in.

“I-I really should find Tim,” Jon muttered, glancing around the room anxiously.

“Nonsense. He’ll be back,” Elias said, releasing Jon’s shoulder and taking his elbow in turn, “I would like to introduce you to a few dear friends of mine. I believe Tim is keeping one occupied at present.” Jon sighed inwardly (and maybe outwardly as well) and allowed himself to be led around the room. His wine glass was empty, as was his plate and he found it snatched away by a member of catering. He had nothing to cling to, to keep his hands busy, and was struggling not to pull out his delicately-placed hair pin just so he could fiddle with something.

Jon was taken on a tour of old rich people of England. Names flew past him, conversation buzzed around him, and still Jon felt like nothing more than a well-dressed trophy to be ogled at. Did Gertrude do this every year, he wondered dimly. No wonder she disappeared. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, nodding and smiling at the appropriate times, speaking when needed, and feeling the swirl of the orchestra build up in pressure behind his eyes. The music was beautiful but hard to listen to. Something about it was ugly, hiding a dark secret behind the innocent melodies.

Eventually, the evening was so much of a blur that he couldn’t even begin to fathom how much time had passed. It may have been weeks, may have been merely twenty minutes. Jon glanced down for his watch before realizing he had taken it off at Tim’s flat and never strapped it back on. Pity. It only added to the dreamscape reality he seemed to be participating in.

At last, Elias led him towards the large burly man that was suddenly in view (hadn’t he always been? Jon wasn’t quite sure. The wine must have affected him more than he thought with the nerves) and Jon saw Tim, similarly trapped in conversation as he had been. He smiled apologetically as Jon and Elias approached and the larger man smiled warmly at the newcomers.

“Ah, Archivist. I hope you don’t mind I stole your companion away briefly. I was curious about the nitty-gritty of your Archive. Timothy here was very informative.” Tim winced at the use of his full name and a part of Jon smirked, relating to the sentiment of being called Jonathan or worse, John.

“I’m glad he can answer your questions.” Elias spoke before Jon could open his mouth. “I’m quite proud of the Archive staff. Jon chose well and I am sure the four of them are going to do great things together. Jon, you remember the Lukas family?”

Jon nodded, confused for a second before the man in front of him extended his hand. “Peter Lukas, at your service.” The hand was cold, and a feeling of dismay washed over Jon as he shook it. He couldn’t help the feeling that the shake of that hand was a seal of his fate.

The orchestral music had picked up, a swirl of strings and piano, ascending in pitch until it grated at Jon’s ears. No one else seemed to react to it, however, as the manic notes pulling at something inside Jon’s brain, something he couldn’t explain. It was almost like a migraine, but sharper and deep in his spine and in his ears. Elias let go of Jon’s arm at some point during the conversation with Peter Lukas, a discussion about boats, maybe? Travel? This was the conversation Elias was so keen on Jon being a part of?

As Jon felt that grip relax, the glint of the ring on Elias’ finger seeming to wink at him, Jon took a staggered step backwards. “Mr. Lukas, ah-Peter, it’s been a pleasure. Elias, ex-excuse me.”

Jon turned and dashed out of the library, feet carrying him on instinct through the winding halls and down the stairs of the institute, deep into the Archives. He stopped when he felt his feet echo against the cold, solid lino of the archival storage and bent over, hand on the wall, gasping in shallow, rapid bursts. It was too much, it was too much, he thought he could do this but it was too much and he wasn’t enough for them-

“Woah-boss.” Tim was there. When did Tim get here? Was he speaking out loud? Shit. “Jon, yeah-hey, Jon. I’m here. You’re okay. Take some deep breaths, okay? You’re going to black out if you’re not careful.”

Jon felt his suit jacket being shrugged off of him and the newly allowed freedom of his shoulder helped. He took a deep, sputtering breath, the sweet oxygen flooding his system and sharpening his thoughts.

“The-the music and the talking,” he said under his breath, Tim craning to listen without infringing on his personal space. “Too-too much.”

“The music? Jon, hey, hey, just focus on calming down, okay? That was a dick move of Elias to separate us immediately. I was talking to that Lukas guy for way too long. Not even sure what we talked about. I think he’s just one of those guys.” Jon smirked to himself as he focused on the floor beneath his feet, breathing slowly until his heart rate had resumed a normal rhythm.

“Says you,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he pressed his warm cheek to the cold wall.

“You bastard!” Jon felt a light swat on his shoulder. “I listen to people! I have meaningful conversation; just ask Martin and Sasha and Alexa from Library and Calvin from Artefact Storage. I am practically a professional listener.”

Jon smirked, satisfied with his jab and turned around, now pressing his back to the wall. “God, Tim, I do not want to go back in there.” It was hard to admit out loud, even if the evidence was written all over his face.

“Okay. So, we won’t.”

“What?” the answer was so mind-bogglingly simple, Jon reeled.

“We don’t want to be here. We’ve talked, we’ve eaten. Let’s just leave. I can tell Elias I had an emergency and you had to escort me home, like a true gentleman.”

“Lie to Elias? I feel like that cant end well.” The offer was tempting, Jon hadf to admit.

“I mean, Sasha has keys to my flat. I could ask her to start a fire, if you think that’s sufficient?”

Jon barked out a laugh at that. “Ah, no, lets save a fire for something big. Yes. Let’s-let’s go, Tim. And-er, I suppose I should thank you. For coming tonight. I know its not an ideal way to spend an evening.”

“Are you kidding?” Tim did a twirl, Jon’s own jacket slung over his shoulder. “I look hot. You think I’d pass up an opportunity to dress up like this? You’re dreaming.” He smirked and took Jon’s arm, leading him back up the stairwell. It felt different than Elias’s touch. That had been a cold tug, directional and leashed. This felt…snug, more like a link in a chain than anything else. Comforting, reassuring.

(Luckily, they weren’t laughed out of the Nando’s they popped into late at night. Lemon and herb and spices covered their hands, but they were careful to keep their jackets clean. Jon, when looking back on the evening; remembers this moment, talking and laughing and letting the fresh night air was over them. Elias, Lukas, and Fairchild be damned. He’d deal with that tomorrow.)

[ddaenghoney]

Series: Flora

Part 24

masterlist link in blog description

After spending more than a decade establishing a career as an acclaimed actress, you decide to go on a sudden hiatus while also discreetly moving to a new townhome, renting out the second room to your old friend from high school: Kim Taehyung

Pairing(s):

Kim Taehyung x Y/N

ft. Lim Jaebeom x Y/N

disclaimer: any character depicted do not represent the actual personality of the respective idol in real life.

Series warning(s)/genre(s): Social media/Fake Text AU, Roommates au, somewhat Slow Burn relationship (or is it more oblivious to lovers ?), Actress!Y/N, Flower shop owner and model!Taehyung, fluff, drama(bc it’s me), romance, angst (updated as needed)

Necessary story written piece beneath the cut!

wc: 4017

Chapter warning(s): Heavy themes of loneliness and quite a bit of angst. Emotional breakdown by means of a lot of crying and a small moment of nearly hyperventilating. Optimistic ending. 

You look down at the ended conversation displayed on your phone, thumbs hovering over the device but you know you have nothing more to say. Sighing, you let it fall to your phone and glance your head out at the grey outside that the car travels through. The clouds took a break from the constant showers that covered the city, but you do not doubt they will continue again, probably the second you step out of the vehicle.

“You can just take me home instead of stopping by that food place.” You speak up to your manager’s assistant who has recently been driving you around for scheduled activities. When Manager Yang is not able to attend things with you, the assistant is definitely there instead. You wager to make sure you don’t do anything more to grind the nerves of the company, but you never have asked the question directly.

“Are you sure? The weather doesn’t seem as bad as a few minutes ago.”

“Yeah, I have some leftovers at home I’ll eat instead.” The explanation exists only to pacify his confusion, because after that conversation you really have no interest in eating anytime soon. Without conviction your eyes search between passing buildings for signs of the sun breaking through any of the clouds, but as you expected there is no such light. If there had been any hope of the storm ending, the production team would not have called off shooting for today.

You don’t mind the weather for that fact, but at the same time it leaves a bitter taste in your mouth that you can only rely on unruly weather to give you a dent of the day back to yourself. If you try to think about how long it’s been this way, your mind would skim back years and years. Early on when you were still in high school and quickly garnering all of the roles in films you could, you didn’t mind the workload at all. Everything was still new, and admittedly going through that part of your life with fame attached to it felt like a grandiose thing.

The glittering of it all wore off a while ago, and letting your head fall back against your seat cushion, you realize just how exhausting it all is. But what else is there?

“Thanks for the ride.” You wave to the assistant as you exit the vehicle in front of the small gate that surrounds the townhome. Your company may know the address somehow, but you certainly are not willing to give out the gate code, much less a key, so you get out on the curbside. You’re relieved when he doesn’t loiter to make sure you get in safely, because the sooner you can stop thinking about everything the sooner you can have a semblance of a clear head.

To your surprise the rain comes again after you’re under the cover of your entryway instead of starting to pour directly on your head. Standing there for a moment, you watch the droplets fall in a humid frenzy that is familiar for this time of the year. This odd hour of the day is much earlier than people head home from jobs, so the neighborhood is quiet with inactivity, only seeming to be populated by you and the millions of droplets that see only a moment of you before they’re gone from your sight into puddles on the ground.

You stretch out your arm to breach into the shower, feeling the water collide with your skin as you continue watching the spectacle of it all. Almost, you’re able to enjoy it completely; take in the beauty of nature, and the serenity of your tiny front yard that’s enclosed in its own bubble. But as your eyes scan the area, your arm tenses when you catch the well-tended to flower beds that line the front gate.

You remember everything you wish is not reality.

Pulling your arm back, you turn on your heel and type the code to your door, entering in haste. The lights inside are off, and the space is quiet, almost without the sound of the showers outside. Without consideration you simply allow your bag to fall beside you on the floor while you flick your shoes haphazardly in the same general direction. It’s not unusual for no one to be home in the middle of the day, but as you step deeper the space feels uncharacteristically empty.

Miscellaneous items are decorated in their little mess around the area, but they’re all your own things that clutter. In your moment of recollection, you glance back to the front door as you realize you didn’t trip over any of Taehyung’s shoes on the way inside. Your lips part at the knowledge and your hand clutches against your top as you turn to walk into the kitchen.

Your line of sight wanders over the countertops, then to the small table beside the door out to the back, but you find nothing. You turn back and stalk into the living room once more, eyes searching quickly to the coffee table, then end tables-- any surface of space you could.

In that instant of finding nothing your eyelids grow hot, and your throat hitches, but you hold back any noise by biting your lip. You don’t have the right to be this upset if he’s already gone without a word of goodbye. You made your choices-- you’re living the consequences.

Air nonetheless escapes your mouth in a high, choppy gasp. You thought there would be more time than the four days it's been since you told him he should leave, since you typed all of those things you didn’t mean and left tears all over your phone screen. You shake your head, forcing everything back again, because you don’t have the right to feel upset about this. You don’t, and you keep repeating that to yourself, but what difference would it make if you started bawling about it here anyways?

You put your hand to your face, rubbing your eyes to stop tears from beginning, but when the sentence plays in your head you’re unable to stop them when you inevitably mumble to yourself,

“I’m all alone now.”

Only a couple escape your ducts, before you take in a deep inhale and remind yourself that this is for the best. If Taehyung has nothing to do with you, then his reputation will not be bothered further, his flower shop won’t run the risk of being singled out on a gossip form, and  his life will continue in its peaceful path just like he wants.

You rub the tears from the corner of your eyes, finding sight of his mug in its usual spot beside the couch. As you take a step towards it, your eyebrows knit wondering if he forgot it but you find a beverage still within it, though mostly gone.

The front door’s entry alert causes your shoulders to jolt in surprise, and your body to turn as it opens wide to let the melody of the rain flood your ears once more. From the cloudy outside that’s a lighter blue than the inside of your house, Taehyung’s figure seems enveloped by a dull brightness.

The hollow feeling in your chest fills with the thrum of your heartbeat. You watch as his lips pout while he looks down at your discarded items, then his head lifts up upon the recognition, startling with a sound of surprise when he sees you.

“I didn’t know you were home,” His words stumble out while his hand searches on the wall and successfully presses on the light switch. “What are you doing?” He asks, frowning in confusion of the certainly odd situation he wandered into.

Taehyung knows that you are not the most organized person on the planet, but your shoes finding their way to the designated closet is the example for him that he never manages to follow. So to see them in a mess on the floor beside your bag, Taehyung thought the placement to be abnormal and maybe somewhere in the back of his mind before he looked up he even felt worry.

“Ah, I just,” You start in a small voice, before dipping your head away from his view. Taehyung takes notice of the aversion, then latches onto the remembrance of your last text conversation. “I got off work because of the weather, so I’m here. Forgot to turn the lights on.”

“I see.” He responds simply, with the slightest nod of his head. Taehyung slips off his shoes finally, and enters deeper into the house, trying his best not to let questions in his head breed into a field that will be left unanswered by you and filled in with guesses by himself.

“What about you?” Your words come making him stop just beyond where you remained as he followed the path to his bedroom. Taehyung can’t help glancing towards you, just a couple feet from him, but appearing so far away as your head faces at a downward angle to the couch beside you.

“I closed the shop early today.” He explains in a low voice, because he does not want to say why he’s come home. He still doesn’t want to think about everything falling apart. And for a moment that fact causes him a burst of frustration because of all of those unanswered questions so his tone shifts coarsely when he gives a curt reply, “Going to sign a new lease.”

Taehyung expects nothing from the sentence, but watching your hand  tighten atop the couch makes him hesitate from going to his room. It’s the smallest action, and nonverbal at that. He knows everything you said about distrusting him and about his importance being nothing more than an irrational measurement you never meant, so why does he still cling on to the smallest sign. One that means nothing.

He shakes his head softly, feeling consumed by the tension. He walks down the hall to his room, leaving you there. Turning away just in time for the sparse rain drops in your eyes to drip in silence onto the leather your hand clings to.

Rather than reaching to wipe them away, you simply let the tears fall, thinking it better to ignore them so they altogether stop. For all of the relief that built in your chest at seeing him again, it ripped back away at his statement. You want to tell him he still has two weeks that he could stay, but you know that would only serve unnecessary confusion, and that it’s better if he leaves now while you’re still able to hold yourself back from confessing the insincerity of all the hurtful things you messaged him.

“Do-” Your shoulders tense at the pet name he stopped himself from uttering. Your lips tighten into a line, forcing away a frown as he continues after a moment, “Y/N, are you okay?”

Considering everything, you wonder how Taehyung even asked you that, knowing well that you’ve given him every reason to stop caring about you to even the smallest extent. But he’s sweet and gentle like the flowers he tends to. You muster a smile at this thought, and nod your head even though you’re facing away from him still.

Taehyung’s hand curls in response to your demeanor, wondering if you really have to look away from him. Does it bother you that much to even be around him? Because things were different only a week ago, it is nearly impossible for him to accept the situation at hand, but ultimately he just sighs, and starts a walk back to the front door, wearing a fresh shirt that’s different from the type he typically wears to work in the flower shop.

As he heads to the door, you recall the countless times he’s walked in and out, wandered around the house familiarly, like a necessary puzzle piece to the space. You can think of the many failed recipes created in the kitchen that led to races to the front door to get the food deliveries afterwards. And you can remember the time you held the door open for him when he struggled with his arms full of little flower starts that would bloom soon if they are maintained after he leaves.

He’s leaving.

“Tae,” Your voice barely sounds like anything but a weak squeak because of the emotions clogging up your throat. He stops to turn back towards you like a habit-- his eyes focusing on your person easily, though the irises are admittedly not as cheerful as all the times of the past. “You-” Your nails dig into the leather of the couch, like the logic you’ve taped up in your mind tries desperately to stay together. But the throbbing pain in your heart wins over your mouth, “I’m so sorry.”

“What-” Taehyung’s sentence drops away as he notices the glittering on your cheeks, and he turns completely. With every nerve on his body beginning to prickle in worry, he takes a step in your direction on impulse, pausing only when you shake your head, releasing more tears down your skin.

“I’m sorry. I’m so selfish-- I really can’t do this.” The words dribble out in a frantic mumble as you finally begin to wipe away at the tears. “I know I need to let you leave-- I know you should; I can’t do this though. I don’t want you to go, I really don’t-”

Your breath hitches as you’re all the sudden pulled into a strong embrace. Without hesitation your arms cling to his shirt, while a sob muffles into the fabric. Taehyung’s arms encompass you with the same feeling that living with him gives you: safety.

“Calm down, Y/N.” Taehyung soothes your trembling frame with his fingertips clutching tightly on your shoulder blades, fastening you to this space that was stable. Giving you a place to belong again.

“I didn’t mean any of it, Tae,” You croak between gasps as your lungs fight for air amidst your sobs. “I trust you more than anyone-- you’re the most important person to me, Taehyung. Please don’t go.”

“Then why,” He starts the question, but then your rushed sentences finally register to him properly. The fact that you said you know he needs to leave. Taehyung breathes in as the realization of it sets in. You were trying to get him away so he wouldn’t be involved anymore. For his benefit, not because you ever wanted that.

“I-,” You cough, clutching onto him tighter as the sobbing leaves your throat thick. You want to explain everything, and make sure that he hears your apologies as many times as necessary, so desperately you try to speak up again only for Taehyung to hush them away.

“Stop for a bit, dove.” He tells you, causing you to find a grasp at peace just from him addressing you with endearment once again. “I’m not going to walk away-- you don’t need to rush. Let’s sit down, okay?”

As you sit on the couch with your fingers rubbing onto your temples, Taehyung stands in the kitchen fiddling with objects that you hear clatter around. You think little of it, simply counting seconds with the inhales and exhales of your breaths, elongating them so as to ease away the rampant swarm of tears and emotions. The prickling in your head must be from a mixture of shock and embarrassment, you decide, becoming increasingly aware of how vividly everything came flooding out.

When Jaeboem texted you days earlier, you had to stop replying. You feel bad still for leaving his series of texts pleading with you out of worries for being left on read, but when he verbally acknowledged how alone you must be, you couldn’t look at the words any longer. That aspect of your lifestyle needs to be kept in check or else you would have to look at everything that’s hollow in the world that you made for yourself.

For following a dream that you were passionate about, in the past you anticipated a cover of happiness washed over your life once you reached the level of notoriety that would keep acting jobs flooding in. But for years of your work and efforts to simply amount to you walking into a lifeless house, with the few people around you about to walk out, you couldn’t let yourself see that because it would be the one thing too much to bear. Even if you enjoy acting, the present gives you no sense of fulfillment outside of your job, which in itself is starting to be cracked with holes as well.

“Here.” Your eyes break from their lack of concentration to watch Taehyung settle a mug that matches his on a coaster in front of you. The steam filled with the warm scent of honey and tea leaves. “Does your head hurt?”

Meagerly and barely do you nod, finally removing your hands from putting pressure on your temples to take hold of the mug. Careful to keep your skin from directly touching the hot ceramic, you balance it inches from your lips to blow gently.

“Thank you.” You mumble, taking small sips so as not to burn your taste buds. The drink is light, but soothing to your throat that is ravaged from your outburst. “I,” Your head jolts as you recall, nearly sloshing around the scalding tea, but Taehyung’s hand aids you in steadying the mug as you speak in worry. “I stopped you from meeting the leasing office-- I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Taehyung shakes his head, very slightly nudging the mug so that you drink more. As you finally give in despite your frown, he continues in a quiet voice. “It’s not like I really wanted to go anyways.”

As you glance towards him with an uncertain hope glinting in your eyes, Taehyung smiles gently and is unable to stop his thumb to graze over your cheek where tear treks remain. In the void of words, the shower outside rages on with a hum of thunder only relaxing the tension in your shoulders. As his hand leaves your skin, you break eye contact to again sip at the beverage while Taehyung eases more into his seat beside you.

Without speaking, he simply rests his head on the cushion, letting you revitalize yourself with the drink. He arranges his thoughts with his newfound information, and is almost upset that he never contemplated any of it before. His friends too had commented repeatedly how strange and out of character all of the texts you sent him were, especially Jeongguk who was fully convinced the connection between you and Taehyung could only be genuine. Taehyung thought the same, and he could blame the surprise of it all for letting his rationality falter, but ultimately he feels disappointed in himself for not considering that this was the only way you found yourself able to protect him.

It’s true that if he continued to believe your words, the hurt would have been enough to start a gap of separation from you, and perhaps even if he reconsidered later down the line he may have pushed the thoughts aside to keep you from having to bother with the whole thing again. Or perhaps it is more accurate, he decides, that he may have not been willing to risk hearing you say everything to him all over again.

“Now you don’t want me to leave?” Taehyung breaks the silence with the small question, the corner of his lips quirking as the empty mug clatters on the coaster from your surprise from the bluntness. With furrowed eyebrows you turn to look at him, so clearly upset with yourself, that Taehyung doesn’t have the heart to tease you any further. His lips part to speak but in a small ramble you beat him to it,

“I never wanted you to. I just didn’t know how else to keep you from getting dragged into anything more than you have been. I know you don’t want anything to do with fame, and,” You shake your head as once again those texts replay through your head.

“Dove.” Taehyung’s hand covers over the top of yours as they fiddle on your lap, bringing you back down. “I understand now.”

Your frown remains, and your chest feels heavy once more because you know you really did hurt him, and yet he’s sitting beside you still and giving you a chance at explanation. You don’t deserve that.

“I should have let you go though.” Your eyes fall to your lap, watching as his hand squeezes over top of yours. You’re sure he doesn’t like your sentence. “Taehyung, I know you say that you don’t mind any of the baggage that comes along with getting linked to me in rumors, but you don’t know what it’s actually like to go through any of that. To have thousands of people you don’t know critique all the choices you make and constantly put their judgement on you just because they don’t like you or are bored-- it’s exhausting. Especially if you’re not even gaining anything from it. You don’t want to get into this lifestyle--and that’s fine, but it’s even more of a reason for you to distance yourself from me. I can’t control any of this as much as I want to, and you’ll just end up dealing with trouble because of it all.”

Without thinking, one of your hands turns upwards, taking a grasp of his gently.

“I do gain something from it all.” Taehyung says, ready for his eyes to meet yours when your head turns in confusion. “I’ll still be in your life.”

Your jaw clenches; heart beating too happily at his affirmation of it all. It’s idyllic and frankly all you would want to hear from him. Such a simple thing, yet the implication causes new, touched tears to collect in the corner of your eyes. Warmly Taehyung smiles at you, tugging you towards him so he can hug you, which you allow without hesitation.

“I know that you’re worried about me, dove, but what you’re telling me I’ve considered too. I may not have been that involved when I was a trainee, but I know the media can be ruthless and cruel, but I’d still choose dealing with that than not being with you anymore.”

“But why,” You pull a bit from him to look up at his face, frowning. “No one’s ever wanted to go through all of this crap just for me-- I don’t understand why you always pick to stay.”

“How many times do I have to tell you that I care about you before you believe me?” He asks with a smile, cutting off any of your uncertain remarks by simply hugging you tighter and chuckling as you make a noise of surprise from the action. “Dove, I’m happiest living here with you. You mean so much to me, and there’s nowhere else I’d rather be. No matter how many times you ask me, you’re going to get this for an answer. You’re my friend, Y/N. You’re dear to me.”

Your hands meddle their way from between your torsos so that you can wrap your arms around him tightly. Taehyung smiles at the reciprocation, settling his forehead atop your head when he feels your body rumble from some muffled cries that somehow have an air of happiness to them.

You’re willing to accept his answer, no longer frightened of all the repercussions as you cling onto Taehyung as if he’ll drift away. Now you realize how content the world becomes with even one person willing to stay. Without the attachment of jobs, or the necessity to save face in front of cameras, Taehyung wants to remain where he is. You’re so thankful for the fact, but can’t properly express the gratitude through words, but he hums in response anyways, keeping you enveloped in his arms as he tells you peacefully,

“I’m not going anywhere, Y/N. Don’t worry.”

If you enjoy, PLEASE let me know!!

Tag(s): @atulipandarose​e @jaienn​ @lemonteacyst​@swanboysuga​ @kennedaddy00​  @cribabieee​@betysotelo18​ @sherizaraiyah​ (if you would like to be tagged send me an ask to let me know!)

[arcticdementor]

Imagine that the US was competing in a space race with some third world country, say Zambia, for whatever reason. Americans of course would have orders of magnitude more money to throw at the problem, and the most respected aerospace engineers in the world, with degrees from the best universities and publications in the top journals. Zambia would have none of this. What should our reaction be if, after a decade, Zambia had made more progress?

Obviously, it would call into question the entire field of aerospace engineering. What good were all those Google Scholar pages filled with thousands of citations, all the knowledge gained from our labs and universities, if Western science gets outcompeted by the third world?

For all that has been said about Afghanistan, no one has noticed that this is precisely what just happened to political science. The American-led coalition had countless experts with backgrounds pertaining to every part of the mission on their side: people who had done their dissertations on topics like state building, terrorism, military-civilian relations, and gender in the military. General David Petraeus, who helped sell Obama on the troop surge that made everything in Afghanistan worse, earned a PhD from Princeton and was supposedly an expert in “counterinsurgency theory.” Ashraf Ghani, the just deposed president of the country, has a PhD in anthropology from Columbia and is the co-author of a book literally called Fixing Failed States. This was his territory. It’s as if Wernher von Braun had been given all the resources in the world to run a space program and had been beaten to the moon by an African witch doctor.

…

Phil Tetlock’s work on experts is one of those things that gets a lot of attention, but still manages to be underrated. In his 2005 Expert Political Judgment: How Good Is It? How Can We Know?, he found that the forecasting abilities of subject-matter experts were no better than educated laymen when it came to predicting geopolitical events and economic outcomes. As Bryan Caplan points out, we shouldn’t exaggerate the results here and provide too much fodder for populists; the questions asked were chosen for their difficulty, and the experts were being compared to laymen who nonetheless had met some threshold of education and competence.

At the same time, we shouldn’t put too little emphasis on the results either. They show that “expertise” as we understand it is largely fake. Should you listen to epidemiologists or economists when it comes to COVID-19? Conventional wisdom says “trust the experts.” The lesson of Tetlock (and the Afghanistan War), is that while you certainly shouldn’t be getting all your information from your uncle’s Facebook Wall, there is no reason to start with a strong prior that people with medical degrees know more than any intelligent person who honestly looks at the available data.

…

I think one of the most interesting articles of the COVID era was a piece called “Beware of Facts Man” by Annie Lowrey, published in The Atlantic.

…

The reaction to this piece was something along the lines of “ha ha, look at this liberal who hates facts.” But there’s a serious argument under the snark, and it’s that you should trust credentials over Facts Man and his amateurish takes. In recent days, a 2019 paper on “Epistemic Trespassing” has been making the rounds on Twitter. The theory that specialization is important is not on its face absurd, and probably strikes most people as natural. In the hard sciences and other places where social desirability bias and partisanship have less of a role to play, it’s probably a safe assumption. In fact, academia is in many ways premised on the idea, as we have experts in “labor economics,” “state capacity,” “epidemiology,” etc. instead of just having a world where we select the smartest people and tell them to work on the most important questions.

But what Tetlock did was test this hypothesis directly in the social sciences, and he found that subject-matter experts and Facts Man basically tied.

…

Interestingly, one of the best defenses of “Facts Man” during the COVID era was written by Annie Lowrey’s husband, Ezra Klein. His April 2021 piece in The New York Times showed how economist Alex Tabarrok had consistently disagreed with the medical establishment throughout the pandemic, and was always right. You have the “Credentials vs. Facts Man” debate within one elite media couple. If this was a movie they would’ve switched the genders, but since this is real life, stereotypes are confirmed and the husband and wife take the positions you would expect.

…

In the end, I don’t think my dissertation contributed much to human knowledge, making it no different than the vast majority of dissertations that have been written throughout history. The main reason is that most of the time public opinion doesn’t really matter in foreign policy. People generally aren’t paying attention, and the vast majority of decisions are made out of public sight. How many Americans know or care that North Macedonia and Montenegro joined NATO in the last few years? Most of the time, elites do what they want, influenced by their own ideological commitments and powerful lobby groups. In times of crisis, when people do pay attention, they can be manipulated pretty easily by the media or other partisan sources.

If public opinion doesn’t matter in foreign policy, why is there so much study of public opinion and foreign policy? There’s a saying in academia that “instead of measuring what we value, we value what we can measure.” It’s easy to do public opinion polls and survey experiments, as you can derive a hypothesis, get an answer, and make it look sciency in charts and graphs. To show that your results have relevance to the real world, you cite some papers that supposedly find that public opinion matters, maybe including one based on a regression showing that under very specific conditions foreign policy determined the results of an election, and maybe it’s well done and maybe not, but again, as long as you put the words together and the citations in the right format nobody has time to check any of this. The people conducting peer review on your work will be those who have already decided to study the topic, so you couldn’t find a more biased referee if you tried.

Thus, to be an IR scholar, the two main options are you can either use statistical methods that don’t work, or actually find answers to questions, but those questions are so narrow that they have no real world impact or relevance. A smaller portion of academics in the field just produce postmodern-generator style garbage, hence “feminist theories of IR.” You can also build game theoretic models that, like the statistical work in the field, are based on a thousand assumptions that are probably false and no one will ever check. The older tradition of Kennan and Mearsheimer is better and more accessible than what has come lately, but the field is moving away from that and, like a lot of things, towards scientism and identity politics.

…

At some point, I decided that if I wanted to study and understand important questions, and do so in a way that was accessible to others, I’d have a better chance outside of the academy. Sometimes people thinking about an academic career reach out to me, and ask for advice. For people who want to go into the social sciences, I always tell them not to do it. If you have something to say, take it to Substack, or CSPI, or whatever. If it’s actually important and interesting enough to get anyone’s attention, you’ll be able to find funding.

If you think your topic of interest is too esoteric to find an audience, know that my friend Razib Khan, who writes about the Mongol empire, Y-chromosomes and haplotypes and such, makes a living doing this. If you want to be an experimental physicist, this advice probably doesn’t apply, and you need lab mates, major funding sources, etc. If you just want to collect and analyze data in a way that can be done without institutional support, run away from the university system.

The main problem with academia is not just the political bias, although that’s another reason to do something else with your life. It’s the entire concept of specialization, which holds that you need some secret tools or methods to understand what we call “political science” or “sociology,” and that these fields have boundaries between them that should be respected in the first place. Quantitative methods are helpful and can be applied widely, but in learning stats there are steep diminishing returns.

…

Outside of political science, are there other fields that have their own equivalents of “African witch doctor beats von Braun to the moon” or “the Taliban beats the State Department and the Pentagon” facts to explain? Yes, and here are just a few examples.

Consider criminology. More people are studying how to keep us safe from other humans than at any other point in history. But here’s the US murder rate between 1960 and 2018, not including the large uptick since then.

So basically, after a rough couple of decades, we’re back to where we were in 1960. But we’re actually much worse, because improvements in medical technology are keeping a lot of people that would’ve died 60 years ago alive. One paper from 2002 says that the murder rate would be 5 times higher if not for medical developments since 1960. I don’t know how much to trust this, but it’s surely true that we’ve made some medical progress since that time, and doctors have been getting a lot of experience from all the shooting victims they have treated over the decades. Moreover, we’re much richer than we were in 1960, and I’m sure spending on public safety has increased. With all that, we are now about tied with where we were almost three-quarters of a century ago, a massive failure.

What about psychology? As of 2016, there were 106,000 licensed psychologists in the US. I wish I could find data to compare to previous eras, but I don’t think anyone will argue against the idea that we have more mental health professionals and research psychologists than ever before. Are we getting mentally healthier? Here’s suicides in the US from 1981 to 2016

…

What about education? I’ll just defer to Freddie deBoer’s recent post on the topic, and Scott Alexander on how absurd the whole thing is.

Maybe there have been larger cultural and economic forces that it would be unfair to blame criminology, psychology, and education for. Despite no evidence we’re getting better at fighting crime, curing mental problems, or educating children, maybe other things have happened that have outweighed our gains in knowledge. Perhaps the experts are holding up the world on their shoulders, and if we hadn’t produced so many specialists over the years, thrown so much money at them, and gotten them to produce so many peer reviews papers, we’d see Middle Ages-levels of violence all across the country and no longer even be able to teach children to read. Like an Ayn Rand novel, if you just replaced the business tycoons with those whose work has withstood peer review.

Or you can just assume that expertise in these fields is fake. Even if there are some people doing good work, either they are outnumbered by those adding nothing or even subtracting from what we know, or our newly gained understanding is not being translated into better policies. Considering the extent to which government relies on experts, if the experts with power are doing things that are not defensible given the consensus in their fields, the larger community should make this known and shun those who are getting the policy questions so wrong. As in the case of the Afghanistan War, this has not happened, and those who fail in the policy world are still well regarded in their larger intellectual community.

…

Those opposed to cancel culture have taken up the mantle of “intellectual diversity” as a heuristic, but there’s nothing valuable about the concept itself. When I look at the people I’ve come to trust, they are diverse on some measures, but extremely homogenous on others. IQ and sensitivity to cost-benefit considerations seem to me to be unambiguous goods in figuring out what is true or what should be done in a policy area. You don’t add much to your understanding of the world by finding those with low IQs who can’t do cost-benefit analysis and adding them to the conversation.

One of the clearest examples of bias in academia and how intellectual diversity can make the conversation better is the work of Lee Jussim on stereotypes. Basically, a bunch of liberal academics went around saying “Conservatives believe in differences between groups, isn’t that terrible!” Lee Jussim, as someone who is relatively moderate, came along and said “Hey, let’s check to see whether they’re true!” This story is now used to make the case for intellectual diversity in the social sciences.

Yet it seems to me that isn’t the real lesson here. Imagine if, instead of Jussim coming forward and asking whether stereotypes are accurate, Osama bin Laden had decided to become a psychologist. He’d say “The problem with your research on stereotypes is that you do not praise Allah the all merciful at the beginning of all your papers.” If you added more feminist voices, they’d say something like “This research is problematic because it’s all done by men.” Neither of these perspectives contributes all that much. You’ve made the conversation more diverse, but dumber. The problem with psychology was a very specific one, in that liberals are particularly bad at recognizing obvious facts about race and sex. So yes, in that case the field could use more conservatives, not “more intellectual diversity,” which could just as easily make the field worse as make it better. And just because political psychology could use more conservative representation when discussing stereotypes doesn’t mean those on the right always add to the discussion rather than subtract from it. As many religious Republicans oppose the idea of evolution, we don’t need the “conservative” position to come and help add a new perspective to biology.

The upshot is intellectual diversity is a red herring, usually a thinly-veiled plea for more conservatives. Nobody is arguing for more Islamists, Nazis, or flat earthers in academia, and for good reason. People should just be honest about the ways in which liberals are wrong and leave it at that.

…

The failure in Afghanistan was mind-boggling. Perhaps never in the history of warfare had there been such a resource disparity between two sides, and the US-backed government couldn’t even last through the end of the American withdrawal. One can choose to understand this failure through a broad or narrow lens. Does it only tell us something about one particular war or is it a larger indictment of American foreign policy?

The main argument of this essay is we’re not thinking big enough. The American loss should be seen as a complete discrediting of the academic understanding of “expertise,” with its reliance on narrowly focused peer reviewed publications and subject matter knowledge as the way to understand the world. Although I don’t develop the argument here, I think I could make the case that expertise isn’t just fake, it actually makes you worse off because it gives you a higher level of certainty in your own wishful thinking. The Taliban probably did better by focusing their intellectual energies on interpreting the Holy Quran and taking a pragmatic approach to how they fought the war rather than proceeding with a prepackaged theory of how to engage in nation building, which for the West conveniently involved importing its own institutions.

A discussion of the practical implications of all this, or how we move from a world of specialization to one with better elites, is also for another day. For now, I’ll just emphasize that for those thinking of choosing an academic career to make universities or the peer review system function better, my advice is don’t. The conversation is much more interesting, meaningful, and oriented towards finding truth here on the outside.

[jadethest0ne]

35! Go for it! ✨

Oh right, for this ask game! I had nearly forgotten about it XD

35. Ramble about any fic-related thing you want! 

If there was one fic-related thing I’d want to ramble about it’d be specifically being a comic artist, and the different things I experienced going from the Pokemon fandom to the RotTMNT fandom as a comic artist.

I spent 5 years creating a Pokemon comic called “Liberty”, based on a nuzlocke playthrough of Pokemon Soul Silver (basically pokemon on hard-mode with permadeath involved for those of you who don’t know what a nuzlocke is). Meanwhile, it’s been just over a year since my first foray into creating comics for the Rise fandom.

The Similarities

The Disparity between Fanart and Fanfiction

Being a comic artist is odd sometimes because I basically do both fanart and fanficiton at the same time. I can understand and vibe with what a lot of both fanartists and fanfiction writers go through and deal with. This is why I feel like I can answer a lot of these fanfiction questions despite a good chunk of my story-telling being visual.

I am also aware of the disparity between fanart often getting a lot more eyes and attention than fanfiction. Deciding to write a piece of fanfiction instead of draw it out in comic format is often a calculated choice on my part, because writing prose takes more energy from me and often gets less rewards via views and interaction from readers. But despite it taking more energy, it takes less overall time for me to write something out than draw the same story, so I often factor that in when deciding which medium to create a story in.

I feel bad that a lot of fanfiction writers don’t get the attention that they deserve because of this disparity, so may I remind readers to please please PLEASE support your fanfiction creators and interact with their work! It seriously means a lot to them! Even a little message or a reblog will do! The main similarity between these two fandoms is this disparity, and I think it’d be awesome if we could get the number of interactions between fanart/fancomics and fanfiction to be more equal.

The Differences

I’m more popular as a Rise artist?

So, as I said, I spent 5 years making a Pokemon comic and 1 year creating a bunch of Rise comics. And yet I think I got more (or at least the same number of) viewers on my Rise comics in that one year than on my Pokemon comics in 5 years. I certainly got a similar number of followers, despite the differences in time. One of the main reasons for this is likely due to the social media platforms I posted on. I posted “Liberty” on deviantart and on the Pokemon Nuzlocke forums, the latter being particularly niche. As for my Rise comics and artwork, I branched out to other sites including here on Tumblr, Instagram, AO3, and Twitter (though insta got fewer comics due to the image size restrictions). The number and popularity of the sites I posted Rise artwork to are more than deviantart and that is likely a big reason. The other reasons for my increase in popularity may be for some of the other differences...

There aren’t that many comic artists in the TMNT fandom

I could probably name only a handful of consistent comic creators in, not only the Rise fandom, but in the TMNT fandom. And I mean the long-running, over-arching story type of comic creators. There aren’t that many of us. There are tons of artists and fanfic writers out there, yes, but very few that combine the two.

Meanwhile the Pokemon community has TONS. Especially the nuzlocke community. Heck, the Pokemon nuzlocke community started and was named because of a popular comic detailing the events of the creator’s nuzlocke challenge playthrough of Pokemon Emerald. You get a little bit more lost in the crowd amongst so many other comic artists in the Pokemon community, but at the same time have more people to learn from and relate to in that way.

My involvement with the Fandoms has been different

There’s been a lot of collaboration and working together among creators within each respective fandom. I feel like personally, a lot of my collabs with Rise creators has been a lot more direct and more personal than the kind of things I did in the Pokemon fandom.

For example, in the Pokemon comic fandom, it was really common to cameo each others’ characters in your comic, or include each others’ comics or characters in memes. This wasn’t always a planned thing, though we would ask each other for permission. I joined a Pokemon comic discord, but most of my interactions there and on other platforms involved brainstorming help. Not only that, but sometimes the community was a bit more competitive as well. For instance the Nuzlocke Forums would hold an “extravaganza” every year where folks voted on various categories to vote for the best nuzlocke (I won “Best Pokemon” and “Most improved” in 2018 :3 ).

Meanwhile with the Rise fandom, I did more things like art trades, collaborative art pieces, and zine work. These were a lot more direct and planned out and involved a bit more trust and interaction with other artists. I also became close friends with the folks in the discords that I joined as part of a Rise server, beyond just “fellow creator”.

As a result, I found myself doing a lot more serious artwork and even created other fics for the Rise fandom beyond just my comics, while when it came to Pokemon I stuck mainly to my “Liberty” art/comics.

More eyes, less interaction and visa versa

Again, this could be mainly a differences in what social media I’m using, but a big difference I found between readers of my work is that I got A LOT more people commenting on my Pokemon comic than on my Rise comics. I may be getting more views on my TMNT comics, but boy did I get more interaction with my Pokemon comics. I would get at least 5 people leaving these in-depth analysis or guesses of what would happen on each page for my Pokemon comic, not to mention the dozens of other reactions I would get in the comments. And despite that comic being on hiatus for a year, I still get some comments on it!

So, unless I know the commenter personally, I feel a little less involved with my readership with my Rise comics than my Pokemon one. Which is a little sad. I do appreciate you all who appreciate my work, but I feel like I appreciate you from afar and can only go “awww” at the things y’all leave in the notes or on the anonymous asks I get, instead of being able to thank you more directly.

Rise readers are a bit less patient

I get lots more people asking me “when the next page is coming” on my Rise comics and fics much more often than on my Pokemon comic. This virtually never happened with my Pokemon comic. Granted, I was way more consistent with “Liberty” and it had a set schedule, whereas my Rise comics/fanfics never have. But still.

I really DO NOT like those kinds of asks/comments. Please do not ask me when the next one is coming out. It makes me feel stressed and ashamed and pressured, which can create negative feelings around my work and make me less likely to finish them. I get that you’re excited, and that’s cool. But literally no one likes those kinds of comments.

For perspective, “Liberty”, my Pokemon comic, has been on hiatus for nearly a year and I’ve gotten maybe two comments to that effect, and they were newer readers who weren’t around at the time that I announced my hiatus and the reasons thereof. My “Liberty” readers have been so patient with me (bless them), and I feel a real loyalty to that kind of readership. I don’t know when, yet, but I really want to get back to “Liberty” someday, not just for myself or that story that I lovingly crafted, but also for them.

Pokemon was a hobby, Rise is a passion

Likely due to the fact that I have made a lot of close friends within the Rise community, and the fact that it has helped me immensely through this really tough year, I feel so much closer with the Rise creator community. Pokemon was a thing that I did for fun as a side hobby. My TMNT related comics and art have pushed me so much further in my art, gotten me involved in various projects, gotten me into creating animations, holy heck was I sucked into this fandom in such a short amount of time, and I love it so much.

I have been a fan of Pokemon since I was a kid, and I never thought I’d find a piece of media that would capture my attention and adoration as much. I think at a point when I was shifting from the Pokemon to the Rise fandom I said something along the lines of “I feel like I’m cheating on Pokemon with Rise”/j but it’s kinda true, haha!

In the end, both fandoms and the people in them mean a lot to me, and I’ve grown a lot from them as an artist and a person. I will be forever grateful to the other creators, readers, artists, writers, friends, collaborators, etc in both.

Thank you all very much!