#unmethodized

[bgbrry]

what's the deal with protocol and dice.. where is this leading, this cannot be accidental

[dev1lm4n]

familiar face

ko-fi | series masterlist

pairing: porn star!joel miller x f!reader

summary: you're wicked fantasies' number one fan, who would've guessed that he'd be a part of your host family.

word count: 3.9k

warnings: explicit (18+), pre-apocalypse, masturbation, internet porn, age gap (joel's in his mid 30's and reader is in her early 20's), reader is an exchange student but nationality is not mentioned

notes: this is set on 2013 like the game, but characters are potrayed like how they did in the series. send me a req or chat me!

To say you’re obsessed would be an understatement to the severity of your addiction. 

Enslaved to this certain habit of yours, your mind was wrapped around it like a wrapper to a gas station lollipop. Tacky and overzealous. A constant revolting urge that needed relieving, tension that made guts throb and lungs squeaking out for dear life when not pleased. This addiction of yours wasn’t as customary as slender rolls of cigarettes and weed brownies, it was a little odd and shameful to admit to. Still, it was a part of you. Even when you’d rather shuffle it into a dark corner than be confronted by it.

You couldn’t remember how it all started, but it seems to have taken on a life of its own. Would it be shameless if you openly admit that you always open up a schedule for it? It became a routine. Perhaps the unfinished papers, the impossibly low marks, and the frequent suffering was what drove you to it. It served as an easy release. No hassle. No awkward ha-ha-has and faking ah-ah-ahs. No mindless chattering over football or the current state of the government to earn what you truly want: a good fucking orgasm.

This addiction comes in the form of a man. 

A man who exists within the confines of your 13-inch laptop. More precisely, within a specific site that begins with the abbreviation for pornography and ends with hub.

Your eyes cruised over the edge of your lousy laptop, which still continues to emit a weird helicopter noise despite your latest visit to a technician, to find the time. To your pleasure, it marked precisely 11 PM, the exact time in which you promised yourself to put an end to your essay despite how unmethodical it looked. A silent smile made its way to your lips as your cursor quickly pressed the x button, before surely making its way to create a new tab.

“P”

Just the single letter quickly brought up your most frequent website. A simple website predominantly black with splashes of yellow accents, though what was exceptionally appealing was the instant stimuli given from the front page. Your eyes twinkled like a starved pervert. What greeted your eyes first was a lady facing your way. Preppy rounded glasses with a shade of mauve lipstick you’re quite fond of, dressed in what you could only assume to be a dollar tree medical gown. She looked like she’s in pure bliss, like the curved cock stuffing her cunt was enough to leave her boneless. “Creepy Doctor Convinces Young Asian Medical Intern to Fuck to Get Ahead” - what an odd title you remark internally.

You scrolled lower with two fingers on the track pad as if it’d get interesting - you knew it wouldn’t, but you couldn’t help feeling curious at what other people jerk off to. “Amateur FOURSOME have FUN. Rough, wet, & sloppy” was what caught your eyes next by the sheer visual it played out as a preview. Two girls were slobbering on two separate weeping cocks. Blinding porn lighting harsh against their faces as they forced their heads down it with overdone expressions. You knew it didn’t feel good. Not when he’s rubbing her labia like a DJ. Not when he’s pistoning in her like he’s a horse in heat with no tempo whatsoever. Were you being way too tough on porn production? Unreasonably so.

Just like you’re programmed in your line of codes, you typed out his channel next.

“Wicked Fantasies”

His channel popped up on top with 150K subscribers, 4.1K friends, and 50.7M video views. For a minute, your mind raced to imagine if you’d stood out to him compared to the rest of his 149.999 subscribers. If he'd like you. If you're pretty enough to join his selected pick of co-stars. It’s stupid, you’re painfully aware, to fantasize about getting personal with a porn actor. You shook the silly thought away immediately as you slowly glided your fingers across your touchpad to admire his works. He was just so.. breathtaking in every single video despite the lack of face in some. A diverse line of co-stars - pale, tanned, dark - did nothing but help put his devilish charms forth.

You let your fingers stroke the inside of your thigh, the part that’s lightly exposed. It’s shameful to admit that you’ve watched all his videos, but you did. Each and every one of them with no fail. Despite the familiarity, every footage presented on his page does nothing but rile you up, sending you to a frenzied madness. You let out a small longing sigh. Your gentle fingers slowly brush over the thin material of your panties, over your throbbing hole, feeling the moisture grow there.

“20 year old Babysitter takes a rough fucking for extra cash Watch her face when it goes in!” appealed to you more than anything. Partially because you’d wish you could babysit his children if it meant you’d be able to get that kind of method of transaction, you practically salivate at the thought alone. The preview played. Short clips compiled together to compel watchers and god damn was it working. Your breath grew shallow as if the oxygen surrounding you was as good as solid matter. Still, you worked your way down the page to evaluate all your options thoroughly.

“Please cum in my pussy. Sweet May earns a huge creampie after a deep sensual fucking” was what you settled with. His promise was what drew you in, to cum in her pussy and show his masterpiece. The way you clicked onto the title was feverish, even more when you had it on full screen. Your laptop was cushioned on a haphazard of pillows, allowing you to get into a more accommodating position. You laid on your side, before shuffling off your shorts from the waist band. A nervous puff of air barely escaped your lips as you clicked play.

The video ran.

Your throat bobbed nervously.

His videos were always edited in a way that shows his age. Cursive letters noting down his and his co-star’s name - with a font you knew only people over the age of thirty would use - entered your screen for a split second before it quickly cuts off to another scene. What you could only describe as a reassuring grunt seeped through your cable earphones and onto your nerve receptors, causing your hole to twitch impatiently.

You could see him clearly now.

Well, not all that clear, but you could see his half hard cock prodding the girl’s soft lips. Her dirty blonde hair framed her face prettily as she took him in with such expertise. He molded her mouth to the shape of his cock - slow but sure - right to the very hilt, before pulling her back out. A sloppy wet trail left behind to gleam under the dim lights. It’s incredibly sensual, none of the obviously fake porny moans in motion, and it left you wondering if he’d morph your chaste mouth to the size of his as well. Would he like that? 

Another scene cuts through the view. This time he was gently running his calloused fingers down her core, barely over the thick stripe of hair, then it went over her hip bone and back to her thighs. May, who you knew by heart from all the videos she had with him, didn’t say a word. Not even a small hitch in her breath. If you were there, you’d sure to be a whimpering mess just by him touching. Just by that throaty chuckle he lets out when he's amused.

You’re five minutes into the video when he finally relieved you of your suffering. He was on his knees, bending her pliant body down on her fours. His large hands gripped over the skin on May’s hip for support as he sheathed himself in one go. It went deep, you know that for sure from the way she let out a satisfied moan. Her face contorted when he pulled back and thrusted all the way in once more. You could feel it now; the way your pelvis spasmed at the sight even when you’re barely hovering your palm over your clothed center. She was the one getting fucked, but you could feel his phantom thrust pounding slowly. Over and over again.

He was cut off right by the shoulder, but he made an appearance when he slightly leaned down to gather her hair into a loose bundle and he was a dream. Dark hair with light speckles of grays you could barely make out from the quality of the video. His brown eyes pierced into the camera - as if he’s watching your needy expression, making fun of the way you couldn’t help but rub your fingers over your sensitive nub because God does it feel good. It sent shivers right down your spine,  

You were entirely sure he was trying to edge you, because the next scene had you bucking your knees forward to add that extra pressure. He had May down on her back with his camera hovering over her, capturing the way in which he forced his way in. His ruddy tip nudged her hole as if it was a gentle knock to a neighbor’s door. It wasn’t enough anymore, you had to pull your panties to the side. With your bare cunt exposed, you gently tapped your clit with the tip of your finger, feeling the sensitivity start to build at the directness.

Your unoccupied hand slowly slipped under your shirt, tracing over your oversensitive skin before it nestled around your nipple, squeezing and running your fingers right on the center of the hardened lump. May didn’t even resemble you, but you could fantasize yourself in her position. He abandoned the camera spotlighting his close-ups to bend her in a nicer position. With her legs up together facing the ceiling above them, in order to create a nice tightness for him to make use of. May bit her thumb in exchange. A chorus of soft, feather-light feminine moans followed his every move. You could hear him now, breathing terribly unstable as he found a way to insert himself deeper.

“Such a smart girl,” he whispered.

He had her in a mating press. His large forearm supported the rock of his hips and you obsessed over it, how it’d perhaps feel when he held her by the thighs. How it’d feel if it found its way around your neck to constrict it, to choke you as he bullied his cock in your leaking pussy. You let your pointer finger spread the slickness down your heat, making its rounds around your clit, before probing it right inside. Just one because that's all you managed to get confident in. The cushy feeling was way too familiar for you and you wished it was someone else’s finger - maybe a larger one like Wicked Fantasies’ - but you’re well grateful with yours.

“Yeah. You like it deep?”

He asked with that Texan twang of his. The teasing lilt of his voice does well to compliment the skillful way in which he stretched May’s hole. You could barely see him in frame, but you’d catch glimpses of his boyish grin each time. It drove you to pump your finger faster, In and out, in and out, steady to the way he moved his hips.

“You feel it in your tummy?”

He attempted once again, but the helpless girl could only moan out a barely there response. You were reacting frantically though. So turned on by the sight alone that you had to dig your canines onto the tender skin of your hand. You wanted him so badly, it’s making you spill all over. Slick ran down your thighs to your unmade bed, drool spread across your hand as you continued to muffle out your pathetic noises.

“Please cum in my pussy,” May could hardly whimper. The desperation in her voice made you grind your pelvis onto your palm in an equally desperate manner.

“You want me to cum in your pussy? Want me to fill you up?”

Yes, please, please fill me up, plagued your mind. You curled your fingers inside, a pathetic attempt to stroke that sweet spot inside. 

Over and over again as the man in the video groaned lowly. When he let out an almost animalistic growl to end his rodeo, you faltered quickly. Your leg twitched as your orgasm began to taper. Quickly like a full sweep on a bowling course, knocking down all that’s left of your dignity. You managed to keep your voice low, but you couldn’t say the same about the absurd amount of wetness soiling your bed sheets. The scene cut off to him showing off his pearlescent load deep inside of her and it almost made you cum a second time.

Wicked Fantasies had 149.999 other subscribers, but you’re sure you were the filthiest out of all of them.

Austin was nothing like you’d expect. The vibrant blue van you’ve rode in for an entire day or so slowly rolled to a stop in front of a classic suburban home. Empty roads and loud calls of cockerels audible even from within the confines of metal walls. The van’s engine hummed softly as it idled, tinted windows reflecting the honeyed rays of the morning sun. This was your stop. A house of character with an eye-catching letter eleven hammered sloppily down the porch, a lone pick-up truck parked right down the center, and a red mailbox that was stuffed to the very brim with spam.

As you stepped out, you were quickly enveloped by warm air, causing beads to form evidently on your forehead. The humid climate was a good reminder that you’ve stepped into another realm, a new page to your life which held Texas’ scorching sun and faint whiffs of leather. You looked rather.. constipated standing on the very end of the driveway. Like a knock-off salesman with a large tote slung over your left shoulder and a suitcase tight against your right. The look on your face didn’t help either, a concoction of sleep deprived and nervous.

You willed yourself to march towards the front porch.

That went well.

What came next was to knock and you swore you get entirely weak in the knees when the realization came sweeping in.

After a series of pacing back-and-forth and tugging at both ends of your lips to train a polite smile on, you knocked on the large front door. Once. Twice. Then, one last time. Wooden doors always sound incredibly heavy and imposing, you cringed at the mere sound.

A few hurried thuds echoed to where you’re standing and you’ve never felt more desperate to make a run for it before someone made it to the front door. What if they’re a sleazy nasty couple who’d want to traffic you into some weird foot-fetish chain? What if they’re a pair of delusional flat earth believers that unironically declined the existence of climate change? What if-

The door swung open in one grand motion. 

You had always been a pessimist - the world always seems to fuck you up in the most creative way possible - but what met your gaze was a young girl. Her hair was like coils of pure earth, softly reflecting the light of the sun; each curl trembled subtly in a humid breeze, a compliment to her doe eyes. She greeted you with a gentle smile. One that speaks language the two of you understood without fail. In return, you tilted your head in a friendly manner as you adorned a sheepish look.

“Hey. You’re the exchange student, right? Come inside!” She invited you in with an astonishing amount of energy considering it’s barely past six. “I’ve been waiting for you all morning, y’know.”

You nodded surely as you awkwardly shimmied your way around her lithe figure. It’s taking all of you to not do a full head-to-toe scan of what she looks like out of sheer curiosity, but you thrive in the short glances you could catch of her. Was she the daughter in this family? It’d be nice to have someone you could relate to, maybe.. maybe you could even paint your nails together and relish in fun girly activities.

“Sorry. Our van broke down on the highway,” you gave your lousy excuse.

“No need. My dad’s not even up yet,” she spoke with a small sigh. Her long fingers massaged circles on her knotted temple as if emphasizing her irritation. “Just put your bags down here. I’ll sort ‘em out for you this afternoon.”

With her confirmation in mind, you pushed your suitcase over to one side of the hallway, along with the tote which weighed more than you do. Without the accessories you’ve been holding onto from the very start of your trip, you felt naked and exposed. Unsure of how to position your arms and legs. It wasn’t a good look, but you stood entirely still like a Barbie display. Both of your eyes stared down at the younger girl as she swayed her hips to the light music, cooking up something skillfully with the flip of her hand.

“What’s your name?”

“Sarah. Sarah Miller. I know what yours is from my dad,” she looked over her shoulder cheekily.

“Sarah’s a nice name.”

“Is it? I think it sounds aggressively Texan. Like I’d go yeehaw, howdy young lady with cowboy boots and a good plaid shirt on,” she chuckled. “Oh and then I’d lasso you real good.”

Her remarks were as refreshing as a summer breeze even when they’re a tad bit snarky. You already knew that she’s going to get along incredibly well with you. Witnessing her shimmy her shoulders carelessly made you unaware of the heavy thump steadily making its way down the stairs.

“There’s the genius who landed me the name,” Sarah whistled out, pulling you out of your hazy daze.

You turned your head in a one-eighty motion, every last inch of self-control being betrayed at the motion of being finally able to see the man who’d house you. The head of the house who’d you continue to see for the rest of the year. There was a lot of expectation you bore on your shoulders, but what fell beneath your eyes exceeded everything. You weren’t even doing a good job in pretending you’re not entirely taken aback, wide-eyes bulged out of your sockets and you looked more like a cartoon sheep more than anything.

He was beautiful. 

“Hey, babygirl,” he greeted Sarah with that rugged voice of his. You could hear the weight of his step as he made his way over to his daughter. Every move that he made, even the part where he hastily tucked his shirt in his worn-out jeans, made your blood drain. At his arrival, he wrapped his large forearm around her shoulders before landing a sweet kiss on top of her head.

“Our guest has arrived, hm?”

“Yes. You were rude not to greet her in front of our door,” Sarah protested openly as she took hold of the plates she cooked up. She made a double trip from the kitchen to the dining table for the first time in forever since they’re finally upgrading to a three person party.

“I’m so sorry, sweetheart,” he offered her a gentle apology before taking a seat in front of the piping hot plates. His legs spread out enough to occupy two leg spaces, though he was left in a masculine position that was charming enough to have you forgive the action. Sarah placed a carton of orange juice on the table aggressively. Some of the containings spurted out and left a pooling mess right by his plate.

“No coffee for you today, dad,” she huffed. Sarah was impatient in starting her breakfast, cutleries already in hand as she dug into the charred sausages.

That was until she realized that you were still standing there on the edge of the room, as out-of-place as ever, looking down at the two as if you’re watching a live sitcom show.

“You’re invited to breakfast too, y’know,” she laughed good-naturedly.

“Oh yeah. Sorry,” you muttered out a brief apology at that before making your way over to the empty seat between the two Millers.

For once, you hoped Sarah wasn’t observant enough to notice the way in which you had your eyes stuck to Mr. Miller’s face with every step that you took. He had the kind of face that stopped people in their tracks. You guessed he must get used to that, the sudden pause in a person's natural expression when they looked his way followed by overcompensating with a weak, embarrassed smile. It didn't help that he wasn’t so modest with it. You weren’t sure if you’re imagining things, but you swore his every movement held intention. What his intention was you couldn’t figure out just yet.

“So you’re in your third year of college?” He attempted small talk. You knew it was small talk, but the way he looked in your eyes with such grave intensity had you faltering.

“Yeah. I am.”

“Thought I’d bring a college gal in to bring good influence to this naughty daughter of mine,” he grinned. “She’s been slackin’ off as of lately.”

Sarah beamed him a petulant pout, in which he responded with a handsome smile. His dark brown hair bounced around seamlessly and for a second, just for a split second, he looked rather.. familiar. Was he an old neighbor of yours by chance?

“What d’ya major in?”

“Computer science. I know. Real nerdy, but I swear I’m not a nerd,” you explained before stuffing your mouth with a generous amount of scrambled eggs.

“I don’t know. You’re not all that believable,” Sarah teased. “Bet you read weird comic books for a hobby.”

You jutted out your lips playfully at her response, which earned a hearty set of snickers from your side. Mr. Miller was thoroughly amused by the banter you’ve played out in front of him and in response, blessed you with an array of gruff chuckles. One in which you swore you’ve heard before. The memory was right there on the back of your head, but you could barely reach out for it at the moment.

“Such a smart girl,” he spoke mindlessly.

It was the exact phrase that made your mind slot in the last piece of puzzle to what you’ve been searching for, a reason of why you think he was oddly familiar when you knew for a fact that he lived miles away from you. You weren’t hallucinating, nor were you delusional. 

You knew him.

Far better than you knew anyone else.

He was the man you’ve been watching every day of the week, whether in the depth of the evening or the early mornings. He was the exact man you’ve fantasized for years on end, stuffing your pussy with your fingers or even your toothbrush if you’re feeling adventurous to the thought of him ravaging you. You knew every part of his body, every beauty mark and calluses. You knew which things he liked the most, how he enjoyed being licked on his tip or how he enjoyed plunging into the very hilt. You knew the noises and praises he’d let out.

You knew him in the foulest manner possible.

“Are you okay?” Sarah’s voice brought you back into the real world. The world in which you’re sitting across your porn star crush, eating a good plate of breakfast as if everything is normal. 

“Yeah,” you breathed out the palpable tension.

“Yeah. I’m okay.”

pls reblog n comment if u enjoyed this!

[pilferingapples]

LM 1.5.6

The old man was caught in the wheels. The fall had been so unlucky that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast. The cart was quite heavily laden. Father Fauchelevent was rattling in the throat in the most lamentable manner. They had tried, but in vain, to drag him out. An unmethodical effort, aid awkwardly given, a wrong shake, might kill him. It was impossible to disengage him otherwise than by lifting the vehicle off of him. Javert, who had come up at the moment of the accident, had sent for a jack-screw.

I've seen a lot of versions of this, but I've never seen one that made it clear to me why people couldn't do something--start lightening the load, shove some planks under the cart and try to lever it, etc. like, the ground is super muddy, there's gotta be things that could be used as levers? Half the town seems to be around here, maybe no ONE person could safely move it (except The Mysterious Mayor) but all of them together? There's no options? It seems unlikely!

And it seems even less likely once Valjean starts doing his Jean the Jack thing and :

They rushed forwards. The devotion of a single man had given force and courage to all. The cart was raised by twenty arms. Old Fauchelevent was saved.

There is some power here! But for some reason everyone's utterly forgotten that fact until Valjean reminds them.

And thinking about it, I blame Javert.

Not Javert personally in this case, or not just Javert Personally, but the general fact of him having assumed the role of Authority in this situation, and then...basically going into Passive Doom mode. He sends for the jack, knowing it will be too late, and then proceeds to not only do Nothing, but dump hopelessness all over the very idea of doing anything. Javert has a certain passivity to him; when he's done what he thinks he Should, he sorta Quits , and also discourages others from acting. He's like all the stopped carts; he acts to block the road. And because he's An Authority, albeit a pretty petty one in this setting, people who accept his guidance join in that sort of passive roadblock mode. They're all The Cart.

...and here's the Spoiler part that makes me put this under a cut : this reminds me of Javert and Valjean taking Marius home after the barricades, and Javert insisting that Marius is dead. There's a lot of ways to interpret that insistence, but I think one of them is this here: Javert, as we've been told already, defaults to damning people. He sees the worst possible outcome and just rolls with it, in the weirdest ways. Even in his one semi-heroic moment in the Gorbeau house, he doesn't actually act to save Fauchelevent from harm,. but to punish the criminals in the middle of a crime he could easily have stopped from happening at all.

Which I guess is all just a roundabout way of saying: Cops don't help, they never HELP, they're punishment and not Preventive Care, and Javert's really absorbed that. And then he passes that on to others.

--also Fauchelevent is possibly my favorite old guy in the book. Lookit him, all nearly dying and still telling the only guy who's even trying to help him to save himself instead. What a solid dude ;__;

[dathen]

Gotta say it’s very aro culture of Bertie to be all “but the girls you’ve fallen in love with have nothing in common with each other!” as I have it on good authority that apparently attraction can be unmethodical

[roomwithanopenfire]

Six Sentence Sunday

Happy Sunday! I still have no fancy banner (i should get on that). Thanks for the tag @run-for-chamo-miles!

So I'm still working on the same Natasha Pitch Lives AU/Simon Saves Baz from the coffin/ and I swear, I keep thinking I'm nearly almost done and then look at my outline and realize that it's going to be a lot more words. The document is still titled Long-One-Shot and it's pushing 40k now 😭😭

It's so hard to pick just a little bit to share but here's six sentences from the first time we get Simon's POV.

It would be such a Baz thing to do. Hide away in the forest to drive me crazy. He’s probably got some spell figured out so he can watch me, laughing at the haphazard, unmethodical way I’ve been searching. I’ve tried the Catacombs and the ramparts for some reason. I’ve looked down every abandoned hallway.

Not much of a Chosen One if you can’t find one missing vampire, I imagine him saying, a sneer on his face, looking down on me. 

Also still been working on my Ronance WIP. Snippet from the chapter I'm posting tomorrow below the cut.

“What’s with the sunglasses?” Nancy asked.

Robin grinned. “What’s with the naked eyes?”

“What?”

“Hang on a sec.” Robin rummaged into her bag for a moment before pulling out an identical pair of sunglasses. “Aha! There they are. We’re going on a road trip, we should be roadtripping in style.”

“I’m pretty sure road trip is not a verb.” Nancy said, but she took the glasses anyways.

“Verbs, shmerbs.”

Tagging people makes me anxious so just 🙈

@facewithoutheart @raenestee @onepintobean @shrekgogurt @prettygoododds @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @rimeswithpurple @sweetronancer (I'm assuming you'll like the little ronance snippet loll)

[fieriframes]

[Unmethodized.]

[badly-drawn-doflamingo]

Doflamingo are you a brook fan??? OMG???

*the entire Donquixote family is surrounding me like a break dancer as I drunkenly, unmethodical, Peter Griffin style spin to New World by Soul King*

[seven-stars-in-his-palm]

6, 11, and 37

(that rhymes!)

okay im doing this Not As Late as Usual lets GOOOOOOOOOO

6) What’s the last line you wrote?

my technical last line has to br kept a secret since its for a bang (im doing like 4 rn so while it doesnt look like im writing. oh god i have so much to share when its time) but the last hing i did for a non classified fic was…..

He had reluctantly come to this conclusion after the sixth demonless pub, because at that point, the strategy had started to fade and the unmethodical panic had started to take hold.

:)

11) Do you write scenes in order, or do you jump around?

if im feeling SUPER inspired i’ll jump ahead, but i usually do it chronologically so ik exactly what happened before the current scene im writing and so i can feel like im making progress. if i dont have a method ill literally flop over and die

37) What fic has been the hardest for you to write?

mmmmmm do you remember hanging up the stars only bc its 1) so long and 2) has a lot of heavy topics i need to sort of Dwell On and Study before i put it to paper bc i want it to be Perfect. i wont be updating it for a while since (again) i have a lot of events rn that im really passionate about snd wanna get done before deadlines, so i probably wont be updating any fic for a decent few months . except for the failed bullet catch ! im definitely gonna finish it before the silence. jmmegdhsbshe THANK YOU FOR THE ASK!!!!!!!

[seva-khusid]

Old worldbuilding map

I felt the need to unwind a little and remembered that I have this little (10x18k pixels) labour of slow and unmethodical love. The setting behind it has been brewing in me for almost nine years now, and will take some more time before it, if ever, becomes anything publishable.

Such timeframe has made it unwieldy at times. Back in 2014 I carelessly lifted themes from every game I was into (mainly Warcraft and HoMM3), and this approach remained as my interests changed. Instead of poorly drafted epic tales I moved to poorly drafted conlangs and histories.

Eventually themes of empire and expansion emerged at its core. Is conquest ever justified? Do the cultural scars it leaves ever heal? For the last semester I kept pestering my professor who taught Displacement in Roman Literature class, asking about creative applications of literature on space and displacement. This passion project was among my main reasons.

It is still a work in progress: for every empty spot on the map there is a dozen conceptual gaps. Most of all, I am struggling to assign a form and an audience for it. I'd ran one and a half pseudo-D&D adventures in it, have several different drafts for games - a Zeldalike and a (T)RPG - but these have to be localized stories. But the main thing I like in this idea is the view through its ages, a discussion about cultural development.

This too has solutions. The Zeldalike draft is narratively focused on its characters seeing how their respective cultures shaped them and learning to overcome it; and the D&D adventures had been placed in different times with metatextual intent. But who on earth would play this?

[zealctry]

@kinslain , continued from { here }, because dumblr hates me.

a WASTE? had he been privy to the other’s thoughts, Hidan’s glee would have undoubtedly boiled over, instantaneously morphing into wrath ( a disastrous outburst ; the sort that soaks the whole of your vision in blood, leaving no room for inconsequential matters such as rationality ). in truth, few things can claw their way through to Hidan’s softer, more vulnerable parts, enough to cause him genuine upset. one is the ( idiotic, yet common ) claim so many make ( sometimes even believing it to be true ) : that they could, would, cut his life short( laughable! ). and the other is. . .. . .. . . .  you see, the deceptive sloppiness, the deceptive lack of planning ( as if it were uncoordinated, unmethodical, just a fortuitous happenstance ) we’re at the very core of his fighting style. a purposefully guided dance, fueled by provocation ( so easy ). a honeyed trap, a false sense of security leading you to place a hand inside the wolf’s maw, willingly.

the fallout from having such an affront, spoken aloud, . . . well. it would have been rather… problematic. but fortuitously, Hidan is no mind-reader, and Itachi chooses not to speak of it ( utterly boring, how the only cloth Uchihas seemed to be cut from was smart. well. if the past is to be believed. it isn’t as if they were all that numerous anymore. whose fault is that?? )  instead, he allows Hidan the enjoyment of this battle, at least for a little while. and enjoy it, Hidan does ( laughing, his grin genuine and unfaltering ). and clearly, he’s proud enough  –and this is not, for once, misguided arrogance—of his skills to not mind an audience ( which is to say: he pays it no heed to Itachi whatsoever, his aim being neither to impress nor to obfuscate any attempt at analysis. he doesn’t really care, one way or another. after all, each murderous dance is its own weaving, based on a foundation of improvisation and scrutiny. unique.)

be quick! —— ugh! Itachi was truly a poster child for common sense ( boring sense ).

the Uchiha's voice carries, despite its unhurried and not particularly harsh modulation. and despite not being called to by name, Hidan catches its drift upon the wind and turns to it as one would to a chime. he toys around with the idea of not acknowledging the call, if only to prove a point to Red Eyes. ( see, I'm not your dog ). and yet, after a split-second of contemplation, he discards it. in two swift hops, he lands by Itachi's side, the tip of his sandals resting quite comfortably upon the injured shinobi's ribcage, the three-bladed scythe lowered uncomfortably close to the face of that body-soon-to-be-a-corpse. it twitches in response. Hidan clicks his tongue, and presses his foot in harder, although his attention remains upon his supposed partner. it's strange to be reminded, from the sudden proximity, that their heights are relatively the same ( their ages, too, and that’s right about where the parallels end, if one is iffy about including the slaughter of one’s family into the mix ; even Hidan’s loose tongue avoided any mentions, until now. it’s just that the Uchihas were rather infamous. )  –––  thus, it makes it easy for him to stare the other Akatsuki member right in the eye. unblinking. unwavering magenta gaze to endlessly dark pools.

Hidan’s mouth quirks, just for a moment.

well, well, well.  Red Eyes was looking just a touch worse for wear. that was. . . . interesting. yet in the aftermath of curiosity came frustration, and in its footsteps, bile.  was he really trying to force Hidan's hand into babysitting his idiotic ass? fucking damn it. while Hidan wouldn’t, in all truth ( and the truth is so relative, so subjective, so malleable and prone to change. truth is plasticine in the shinobi world ) slay a ( supposed ) ally ( that he cared little for ) — he was not opposed to standing by idly as they expired.

( shinobi die all the time, after all. he can merely remind dear leader of this FACT if any questions were to arise. )

still. odd. Itachi can’t possibly have been dumb enough to use any taxing jutsu, let alone Tsukuyomi or its ilk, for no reason whatsoever. . . ..  could he? ( why would he!? ) a frown etches itself into Hidans features, a companion to the displeased turn of his mouth.  ( he has an unclear notion of how much of Itachis chakra may be consumed by such use — but he has enough sense to know that one of the most powerful genjutsu in existence would, by necessity, impose some amount of drain on its user. had he not told him to sit. it. the. fuck. down? Jashin grant him some fucking patience before he kicks the idiot in the shin. or impales him and leaves him as feed for wildlife. )

he doesn’t have much time.

( he hasn’t forgotten the warning, nor been oblivious to Itachi’s attempt to guide his hand. once the initial spike of adrenaline, of alarm that knifed him through the gut, subsided, the thought of it makes him snicker. )

he doesn’t have much time.

“ . .. .hmm. do YOU? ” a taunt. laughter ( steeped in cruelty, its sharp edges still curling the corners of Hidan’s mouth into unforgiving lines ) may not be spilling from his lips just then, but it clings to the feverish light at the back of his eyes. it’s a barely-covert message, dripping with intent. but this time, Hidan raises no weapon in the proximity of Itachi's throat. count your blessings, weasel.  instead, he extends his free hand towards the other. almost solicitously. almost. the movement is certainly both languid and careless, even as his fingers spread out, palm up, as if testing for raindrops. ( blooddrops. well, just in case Itachi’s body decided to give up on him, and bleed all over with little to no reason. how fucking amusing that would be.  . . … . )

“ I could always put you out of your misery, I-ta-chi. you'd be a worthwhile replacement~ ”

[chiwi-la-capybara]

Yall ever think about how Herman Melville pioneered the trope there was only one bed?

“Landlord,” said I, going up to him as cool as Mt. Hecla in a snow-storm—“landlord, stop whittling. You and I must understand one another, and that too without delay. I come to your house and want a bed; you tell me you can only give me half a one; that the other half belongs to a certain harpooneer. And about this harpooneer, whom I have not yet seen, you persist in telling me the most mystifying and exasperating stories tending to beget in me an uncomfortable feeling towards the man whom you design for my bedfellow—a sort of connexion, landlord, which is an intimate and confidential one in the highest degree. I now demand of you to speak out and tell me who and what this harpooneer is, and whether I shall be in all respects safe to spend the night with him. And in the first place, you will be so good as to unsay that story about selling his head, which if true I take to be good evidence that this harpooneer is stark mad, and I’ve no idea of sleeping with a madman; and you, sir, you I mean, landlord, you, sir, by trying to induce me to do so knowingly, would thereby render yourself liable to a criminal prosecution.”

“Wall,” said the landlord, fetching a long breath, “that’s a purty long sarmon for a chap that rips a little now and then. But be easy, be easy, this here harpooneer I have been tellin’ you of has just arrived from the south seas, where he bought up a lot of ’balmed New Zealand heads (great curios, you know), and he’s sold all on ’em but one, and that one he’s trying to sell to-night, cause to-morrow’s Sunday, and it would not do to be sellin’ human heads about the streets when folks is goin’ to churches. He wanted to, last Sunday, but I stopped him just as he was goin’ out of the door with four heads strung on a string, for all the airth like a string of inions.”

This account cleared up the otherwise unaccountable mystery, and showed that the landlord, after all, had had no idea of fooling me—but at the same time what could I think of a harpooneer who stayed out of a Saturday night clean into the holy Sabbath, engaged in such a cannibal business as selling the heads of dead idolators?

“Depend upon it, landlord, that harpooneer is a dangerous man.”

“He pays reg’lar,” was the rejoinder.

...

“Landlord,” said I, “tell him to stash his tomahawk there, or pipe, or whatever you call it; tell him to stop smoking, in short, and I will turn in with him. But I don’t fancy having a man smoking in bed with me. It’s dangerous. Besides, I ain’t insured.”

This being told to Queequeg, he at once complied, and again politely motioned me to get into bed—rolling over to one side as much as to say—“I won’t touch a leg of ye.”

“Good night, landlord,” said I, “you may go.”

I turned in, and never slept better in my life.

Upon waking next morning about daylight, I found Queequeg’s arm thrown over me in the most loving and affectionate manner. You had almost thought I had been his wife. The counterpane was of patchwork, full of odd little parti-coloured squares and triangles; and this arm of his tattooed all over with an interminable Cretan labyrinth of a figure, no two parts of which were of one precise shade—owing I suppose to his keeping his arm at sea unmethodically in sun and shade, his shirt sleeves irregularly rolled up at various times—this same arm of his, I say, looked for all the world like a strip of that same patchwork quilt. Indeed, partly lying on it as the arm did when I first awoke, I could hardly tell it from the quilt, they so blended their hues together; and it was only by the sense of weight and pressure that I could tell that Queequeg was hugging me.

[biglisbonnews]

Terri Joe Isn't Iconic, She's Psyiconic In 2022, TikTok found its unlikely host: a “devout Christian, Caucasian, heterosexual woman” by the name of Terri Joe. Even though Terri Joe found fame and notoriety on the platform, she was not too pleased with what she saw there. TikTok, after all, is overwhelmed by a constant flow of foolishness: Fleeting trends, trauma dumps, the whole world in synchronous and embarrassing choreo. Terri Joe was there to wake the TikTok community up from its sinful, silly slumber. Sitting coolly in front of her shabby floral wallpaper, adorned with not much more than a wig and a glare, Terri Joe goes on TikTok Live roughly between 10 PM and 2 AM CET, usually four days per week. Don’t worry if you miss it live, though. A dedicated community of stans watches every stream and posts all the best moments for posterity — highlights that largely consist of Terri Joe decrying the many “hommasexyuhs” (see: gays) who torment her. Clips from Terri Joe's Lives with Madonna, Doja Cat, Hunter Schafer and other celebrities have helped turn Terri Joe into a perennial meme and catch the eyes of everyone from Ziwe to Lizzo. But even as her brushes with the rich and famous have supercharged her ascent, it’s Terri Joe herself who’s the main attraction. Whether she’s talking to Bob The Drag Queen or a giddy normie, all who enter a Terri Joe Live receive the same treatment: a southern belle’s righteous flogging, interrupted only momentarily by the slight quiver of her lip before she finally breaks character. Keeling over to the corner of the screen, Terri Joe lets out one cathartic laugh before she returns to form. Related | Met Gal Behavior With Hal BaddieTerri Joe is no true preacher’s daughter. She spawns from the mind of Kelon, a shy, bubbly 27-year-old hailing from Houston. Kelon worked in tech before going viral on TikTok, but now he’s a full-time internet personality with more than a million followers on his main account @_psyiconic. And while Terri Joe is his most famous character, you can also find him on Live as Terri Joe's cousin Jeorgia Peach, an LA party girl perpetually blessed with a neon pink glow, or as her doppelganger Amethyst Jade, a goth girl vampire currently haunting Salem, Massachusetts.PAPER talked to Kelon about life before TikTok superstardom, the mechanics of the improv and the method behind the madness — one that appears to be refreshingly unmethodical. The “Terri-verse,” as fans have dubbed Terri Joe’s cinematic realm, is sprawling and complex, but it truly is created “on the fly.” In fact, Kelon doesn’t even think about the Lives during the day. When he goes on Live, he “blacks out” and lets the story flow. Nothing, not even the most absurd interaction, seems to faze him, let alone his interfacing with superstars.Which is probably why the whole thing proves so consistently thrilling. In an era overrun by hyper-strategic influencers and “content creators,” maybe the most genuine thing you can be is a person in a wig with a haphazard knowledge of the Gospel and an unflinching commitment to the bit.Welcome to the Terri-verse. Like our own, it’s ever-expanding.Describe the first time you went on TikTok Live. Were you in character?I have no clue. I started going Live while I was working for this little tech startup job and it was annoying as hell. So it came from me needing an outlet. It was something fun to do after I got out of work. And I'm not even that kind of person. It’s not in my personality to be happy on camera and be doing dumb stuff. Well, I guess it is now. But even right now, like [this Zoom interview] is awkward for me. Not because of you or anything. I just feel awkward because being on camera is weird. But when it's Terri, it’s different, because it's not me. So I really don't remember how I started going on Live. I just decided to do it and then it all snowballed from there. So did the Lives start with Terri? Did you already have the character developed? It wasn't really Terri per se. It was just me in a wig and clothes that I perceived as more feminine. And it was just me talking to people. I was talking in a normal voice and everything. But I never gave the person I was portraying a name until a little bit later. Did you know starting out that this character you were portraying would be a conservative Christian and homophobic?[Laughs] It actually didn’t start off with Terri, but with Jeorgia Peach. It started with that background and with me talking to random people and saying the most random things. And then one day I decided it would be funny to just throw on a grandma costume that I had and a raggedy wig and just go on Live. I think I was loosely basing it off of a character from my favorite TV show True Blood. So I was like, “Yeah, I'm a Christian.” And I think I just was randomly blurting out stuff like I usually do. And it just stuck.Did you ever know anyone in your real life who had those beliefs? No, literally no one in my life is like that. My parents and family members are religious and believe in God, but none of them are devout Christians. They don't go to church every day. I've never met a person like that actually, so I don’t even know where that came from. ​When you started going on Live, did you immediately know that this was something special and would take over your life? I don't even think I’ve even processed that to this day. I didn't expect anything. I never expect anything in life. But I didn’t think this would go as far as it did. I was just turning on the camera and being dumb and people loved it. And then they wanted more. And then they started supporting me financially to be able to do this full-time. That I would say is the biggest impact that this has had on my life. I don’t have to work a “real job,” which I hated. I hated working. So that was the most impactful thing that came from this. When you realized that this could be your professional work, did that change how you acted on live or thought about it? Did it make you more strategic?No. [Laughs] When I do interviews, I feel like people expect me to be more calculated with what I'm doing, but it's not like that. Everything happens on the fly. Everything is spontaneous. Nothing I ever did was thought out at all. It just happens. I think of it as like improv. And I think that's why people enjoy it. They like the unexpected.Terri Joe and all your characters have had some pretty dramatic storylines develop. Are those also spontaneous?Yeah, nothing is planned. I don’t even think about it at all during the day, because I usually go Live late at night. Even the kidnapping things or the stuff about Terri’s dad dying. Everything happens either on the spot or right before. Right before the Live I’m like, “What can I say when I start this live?"What about with some of the people who you go on live with often and have storylines with, like Tyler who Terri “dated” for some time, or Patty Puffs? Do you ever reach out to them offline?I do talk with the people I go on Live regularly with. They’re my friends. We have each other's numbers. We talk through DMs on Instagram, but we never talk about the Lives and say what we're gonna do. It just happens on the spot.Did you spend a lot of time online? Online wasn't even a thing when I was a kid. I spent most of my time watching TV like Disney Channel. I’m 27 years old, so I didn't get my first phone ‘til I was in the 12th grade. I was not really ever on the internet like that. I was really just sitting in front of the TV and watching Disney Channel most of the time, mostly That's So Raven, which I attribute to the things that I'm doing — like character work. [Raven Symoné] would do that all the time: play random characters and do the most random things.What was your life like before going viral?It was almost the same, to be honest. I don't really do extravagant things. Just like hanging with friends on days that I wasn't working. Getting drunk. Basically just doing the normal things that people do.The only difference is that I was actually working a normal job, which was excruciatingly painful for me. I mean it was fine, because the job was not even that hard. It was just driving around in a car, but it got very boring and tedious because you could only drive like 15 miles per hour. You couldn't look in any direction but forward. I was still going Live while having a job, but I noticed that I started getting [TikTok] “gifts” from people and the gifts could be transferred to cash. The money was like the same amount or more than I was making at my eight-hour job. So I was like, Why would I be working? I just quit the same day, no two-weeks notice. I was just like, “Okay, bye.” I took that leap of faith. And the gift money is very fickle. But I just trusted that it would work out. And it did. Were your friends and family surprised by this life pivot? I wouldn’t say they were surprised, because they've always been urging me and encouraging me to do social media things. I would always be like, “That would be so easy for me to do because I’m so likable and people love me.” [Laughs] I’m just kidding. I just felt like it would be like a fun thing to do. I would always be telling everybody growing up that I was gonna be famous one day. And then it happened. And I've said it so much that they were not shocked at all. They were more like, “Okay, you said you're gonna do it and you did it. And that's that.” They ask about it sometimes, but it's just like another job to them honestly. So you weren't an influencer before? Not really. No. I don't remember the last time I posted on Instagram. Like it was in 2016. And I rarely used any other apps. I watched people, but I never really posted, which is why I'm saying this, now, is so out of the ordinary for me. It’s interesting that you always knew you could be big on social media, even though you weren't really on social media yourself.It was more so famous. I wasn't saying I was gonna be a social media influencer at all. It was just that I was gonna be someone.Did you have a vision of who that person would be?No, actually. I just knew it would happen. Once, when I was in middle school, I had a substitute teacher. She was doing roll call and she stopped at my name. She paused and looked at me and she was like, “You're gonna be famous one day.” And I was like, “Okay?” Sometimes I think about that and I’m like, Was she psychic or something?I've always felt like that. I think most kids think, I want to be like an actor. I want to be on the Disney Channel. I want to be like all these other celebrities. I just had that in the back of my head. And I kind of manifested it.TikTok is where your work happens. But the clips are all over Twitter and the internet. Do you remember when you started realizing that your characters were having a life outside of TikTok? Yeah, I started getting texts from my cousins and other friends who were like, “Is this you?” They were sending me videos of me on Twitter. And I was like, “Wait, what?” I literally didn't even have a Twitter. I have Twitter now, but I don't ever use it because I really don't know how to use it.People would send me videos that were posted or reposted on there. And then people in the comments were like, “Who is this? Where can I find this person? This person is so funny.” And then I saw my Reddit, and all kinds of crazy things. I still don’t understand it, to be honest.Have you spent any time on your Reddit board?No, I'm scared. I don't even know what Reddit is. I didn't even have an account. One of my friends tells me what he sees on it. But I never looked at it for myself. I just made a Discord because my fans made a Discord [server] for me. And I was not in it for the longest time, but then I went in there and was just seeing what they were talking about, which actually is kind of a secret because I don't want them to know that I'm in it, but I am. You periodically get banned from TikTok. Do you understand why?I know exactly why. [Laughs] I mean, it makes sense. I'm never upset about it. I say the most outlandish things. I say very crude things and very sexual things all the time. So it makes a lot of sense that they ban me every time I go live. It comes with the territory. That's why I have like eight accounts. When I get banned, I just hop to the other accounts.You're such a staple of TikTok, though. You would think that TikTok would want to keep you happy. Has anyone from TikTok reached out? Yeah, I have a TikTok Live manager or point person. She works [at TikTok] and she talks to me about the Lives sometimes. But we never talked about me being exempt from being banned because it wouldn’t be fair. I do violate the community guidelines, and if they do it for me, they have to do it for other people, too. So I don't really mind.Your interviews with celebrities helped to bring your work to the wider world. What was the first one? And how did you start going on Live with more celebrities? I think Doja Cat was the first celebrity I went Live with. I was just on Live one night and that’s when I was literally having like 2,000 people on my Live. People were commenting, “Doja Cat is here!” And I was like, “Yeah, sure. And I'm Beyoncé.”I thought they were lying, but then I saw her commenting, and I was like, “Wait, what?” So then I just added her to the Live and when I added her, her following came to the Live and they were watching us interact with each other. And then she joined again a few more times. That's where it snowballed, because her following came to me and they enjoyed our interactions together. And then they posted it everywhere, and then others slowly saw it and were like, This person is funny. I want to go Live with him as well. Or that’s what I assume, because I don't really have any contact with any of them beforehand. They just show up and I add them.Were you nervous when you first got on camera with Doja Cat?Yeah, the first time I was, because I was like, Wait, this is literally Doja Cat and she's here. But I wanted her to have the experience that she was looking for, which was just going back and forth, the banter. I didn’t want to be like, “‘Oh my God Doja Cat!” the whole entire time and be annoying. And I honestly don't even see celebrities like that. I'm not a fanboy type of person. They're just people. I may like their music. I may like their work, but I'm not going to attack them. And I think they enjoy that aspect as well.Was there a celebrity who you had an especially good time with and you felt like really got it?Doja Cat. She just likes to talk. She says crazy things, too. The back-and-forth just works. I don't ever feel like there's a moment where I'm trying to force the conversation with her and force it to work, you know? It doesn't feel like work. It just flows. I was so gagged when Madonna did poppers on camera with you.Yeah. I thought that was so funny because I was like, “Wait, what?” I saw her while she was doing it and I was like, “Wait, are you literally doing poppers on Live like, what is this?” And the fact that she didn't get banned for that was hilarious. Yeah, that was amazing.One of my favorite things about the Terri character especially is it seems like she knows every lyric of every song ever. Is music really important to you?I wouldn't say that it's that important, but I do like music. If you notice, there's a running theme with what I say. I do enjoy things, but I don't really delve that far into it. I do enjoy music, but I think what people are intrigued by is the music that I'm singing. I'm interested in all kinds of music, almost every genre. So I feel like that's where people are like, “Wait, how do you know these random songs? It doesn't make sense.” But I've always been like that. I've always listened to the weirdest music. Or not weird, but eclectic.​You’re always singing Lana. It’s my favorite part of your Lives because it’s such a dramatic and funny juxtaposition with Terri, who’s usually more uptight. Are you not a real-life Lana stan then? Oh, yeah, for sure. With Lana, I know every single one of her songs and I know them all by heart. I was just playing a game with my friend where I guess the song they're playing when they’re shuffling through all of her discography. It was like two seconds of them playing a Lana song and I could guess which song it was. Yeah, I’m a really big fan of hers. But I'm not like a “stan” person. I don't even know when her new album will come out. But I know that she is coming out with another album, and I will be listening to it. But I'm not looking for it and searching for it.Do you dream of interviewing her? No. [Laughs] I want to, sure, but I'm not like, “I need that to happen.” Actually one of my followers is friends with her and she showed [Lana] my videos. And she was filming her. I don't remember what she said. I don't think she said anything. She was just laughing. But yeah, I would love to go Live with her one day if that was possible. But if it doesn't, that's fine as well. So you don't have a dream interview? You don't think about that? No.Most people you go Live with are just random people, and most of the interactions are pretty surreal. I was on one a few weeks ago where some guy kept asking to marry Jeorgia. Lately, I don't even remember. I just black out whenever I go Live. So people will tell me, “Oh, this one was so funny.” And I'm like, “That happened?” So nothing pops up in your mind from one of your Lives that is particularly crazy or memorable? Well, I do have one I just thought of right now, but it's not safe for work at all. But there was one time I went Live with this guy and he was wearing gym shorts and nothing under. And he was jumping around. I'm sure you can deduce what was happening while that was happening.Yeah, people can get pretty wild on your Lives. I guess they have an expectation of what the experience is going to be like, and they come in with a certain energy? Yeah, I think it's just that most of the people have never seen me before, but when I click to add their Lives, they can see how many people are in my Live. I think that's where that energy comes from. They’re like, “I have to be crazy. I have to get these people to like me. I have to have this be a funny or shocking thing.” I think that's where it comes from.Do you have an internal sense of how to keep things entertaining? Is there a signal that’s like, “Okay, it's time to move on or this isn't working?”It's only when I get bored. When I get bored from talking to a person, I'm just like, “Okay, bye,” and just go on to the next one. You can see it in the comments as well. People are like, “Next!” So I’ll be like, “Let's do a battle.” I'm like, “Want to do a battle?” and I just end the Live, because they think I'm going to press the button to do a battle, but I'm actually ending it with that. I feel like that's the least awkward way to end the Live. So now that's been a signal from the comments to me. They're like, “Battle! Battle!” But I don’t really listen to them most of the time. If I still want to talk to the person, I'm going to. But yeah, usually it’s when I get bored or when I see the comments and people are like, “Okay, we’re done. Let’s go to the next person.” Which actually pisses me off.Talk more about how you react to your viewers' comments during your Lives. It sounds like you follow their directives, but you also feel complicated about it?Sometimes it upsets me, because I’m just like, “Shut up and enjoy the show!” But most times when they’re like “This person is boring,” I’m like, “Yeah.” Usually, when they’re feeling it, I’m feeling it, too.Is there a certain trait in people you look for when you go on Live and know, “Okay this is going to be good?”It’s usually — and this is horrible to say — like older people. Like people in their 30s and above. They just really don’t understand what’s happening. They’re a little confused and I just play off them being confused and say the most outlandish things to them and try to get their reaction. The people I enjoy going on Live with the most are the people who have no clue what’s going on. They’re just going with it as if I’m a real Christian person who’s saying these things to them. I like their reaction to that.Okay, so you’ve built this whole Terri Joe Cinematic Universe — I don’t even think I built that. The people built that. I just gave them the material and they did the Terri-verse thing. I went along with it. I give them credit for that.But do you have active plans about where it’s going to go? Is your work going to expand off of TikTok? Are there any plans you can share? I would like to see it stay on TikTok but also expand, because something that is stagnant for a long time gets boring. I would like to see it travel further than that. I know some people have concerns about that. Like if you go to a network or a different platform, they’re going to try to dull everything down and ruin everything. But I personally wouldn’t work with anybody where I couldn’t have almost full creative control. That would be dumb. I’m already doing what I’m doing now, so I wouldn’t relinquish the reigns of what I’m doing to someone just for them to fuck it up. I would like to see it go somewhere else and I’ve been talking to some people about that, but there’s nothing definite. Is there a dream form for the characters? A TV show? Movie? Podcast? No. I feel like all of it! Why not all of it? I feel like I could transfer it to a lot of things, it’s just how. We haven’t figured that out yet.I want to put in my two cents for a club night somewhere hosted by Jeorgia. I mean, it would be fun. I’m just terrified to be Jeorgia anywhere because she’s like, “I have a BBL,” and I show up and I’m like [hunches his shoulders] built like Zoidberg. [Laughs] I guess that would be funny as well: for her to have all this surgery and then I show up looking crazy. I think that would be funny, but I don’t think people enjoy her as much as Terri. I know there are people who do, because people are always like, “Are you going to do Jeorgia tonight?” But I feel like there are more people who like Terri than the other characters. But I would do that because that does sound fun.Stand-up?I don’t think I could ever do stand-up. I think I would cry actually, because you have to set up jokes and nothing I ever do is set up. I don’t think I could even do that. Everything I do is on the fly. I never tried though, either. I think I have stage fright. I haven’t been on a stage in forever, but I’m pretty sure I have stage fright.​Are people recognizing you now on the street? Does that also make you nervous? It makes me a little nervous, especially if I feel like I don’t look how I should look in the moment. If somebody asks for a picture, I’m like, “Yeah, sure,” but in my head, I’m like, No! But people do recognize me and I always say, “Yes,” and I always try to give them the best experience or the experience they want from me. I think there are some people who are a little scared to come up and talk to me. They think I am how I am on the internet and will be rude to them, but I’m literally the complete opposite. I’m a very sweet and nice person if you meet me in person.Going off of that: Are there any big misconceptions you’d like to clear up about how you are as a person outside of these characters? That would be the main one. I think people know that now, but the biggest one is that they think I’m a horrible person or a rude person or a mean person or that I’d judge them if they came up to me, but I’m literally not like that at all.Terri Joe doesn’t exist in your mind?No. Not at all. I was literally like — wait I can’t say that. Wait I can! [Laughs] This interview is literally for PAPER and I was like, “I can’t talk about PAPER!” But [the PAPER team] was asking me to do these little videos here and there of me being Terri or saying something Terri would say, and I was like, “I don’t even know.” It’s just whenever this camera or this little setup is on and I have that wig on and I see myself in the camera, she takes over and I’m not even there anymore. I don’t even know what I talk about, to be honest. I think that’s the biggest misconception. The characters are not me and I am not them. They may be a piece of me, but I’m my own person.I feel like what you’ve done is really inspiring. You’ve made this whole thing happen and had so much fun doing it. Do you have any words for someone who wants to put themselves out there and perform and make art or comedy, but may be nervous to do so? I would say, “Just do it!” Me being Nike. [Laughs] Because most people want to do things. I’ve been saying I want to do stuff on social media for years, and the day I started doing it was the day it took off. People get in their heads about how it’s going to be perceived, but you need to not worry about that and just have fun with it. And the people who like it will come and the people who don’t like it can die. I’m just kidding! But just start and when you start, keep doing what you want to do. Don’t try to change what you’re doing to appease other people, because that will take the fun out of it away from you.Photography: Oscar OukStyling: Abby BencieHair: John NovotnyMakeup: Christyna KaySet design: Seamus SlatteryPhoto assistance: Alex KalbStylist assistance: Kelsey LoganProduction assistance: Em Marie Canon, Noelle Heriveaux, Gabrielle NarcisseEditor-in-chef: Justin MoranEditorial producer: Alyson Cox https://www.papermag.com/terri-joe-2659305290.html

[knuckleduster]

The binary approach of this research does not capture the knowledge of platform producers, neither platform employees nor everyday users; these producers’ income depends on successfully negotiating visibility on proprietary platforms. As such producers, beauty vloggers are sources of algorithmic knowledge whose feminised output positions them outside of the technical, yet whose work is contingent on algorithmic visibility. Their knowledge about algorithmic processes is shared and enlivened through gossip, defined as loose, unmethodical talk that is generative: gossip lies at the ‘median point between random and agenda-driven’ (Adkins, 2002: 216). Not only is gossip an important and under-studied form of knowledge production, it is ‘embedded in traditional ways of knowledge production’ (Adkins, 2002: 223). Gossip, particularly when associated with women, is dismissed for its bias, intimacy or as violation of privacy (McRobbie, 1982). Yet, gossip is an important resource and method for knowledge exchange, particularly for marginalised groups. In this vein, I define algorithmic gossip as communally and socially informed knowledge about algorithms and algorithmic visibility. [...]

[...] Organisational studies research on gossip can serve as a useful starting point to understand the function of gossip as knowledge production. For example, Kathryn Waddington (2012) points out that ‘organisational gossip is a relational, reflexive communicative practice through which individuals engage in sensemaking and knowing’ (p. 2). She takes a broad approach to defining gossip, attempting to shepherd multiple forms of reflexive evaluative talk under this umbrella. However, feminist accounts of gossip demonstrate how the term has multiple negative connotations, and thus can be ignored for a number of reasons. First, gossip is unruly and difficult to track. As feminist scholar Angela McRobbie (1982) observes, ‘in the use of words, the tension arises between the anarchy and all-pervasiveness of talk and the order and formality of written words. We all talk, all of the time’ (p. 50). McRobbie argues that women’s forms of talk, of knowledge sharing, are located outside of institutionally sanctioned research practices, and are under-observed, and ghettoised. Similarly, Karen Adkins (2002) argues oral histories are often considered ‘trivial’ compared to the ‘real stuff’ of research – but argues that this distinction is ultimately ‘false’ (p. 215). Adkins (2002) draws attention to the erased role of talk in scientific or mathematic discovery, arguing ‘women’s ways of knowing are simply part of how all humans come to knowledge’ (p. 215). Taking talk seriously enables us to synthesise accounts of gossip with algorithmic studies, to make visible how knowledge about algorithms is often not verifiable, but informs how producers navigate and manage visibility on YouTube.

Sophie Bishop. Managing visibility on YouTube through algorithmic gossip. 2019. new media and society Vol. 21(11-12) 2589–2606

spreading misinformation is a traditionally feminine hobby (gossiping just being a derogatory gendered term for it) so actually telling women and nonbinary femmes they cannot lie on the internet is so misogynistic

[noelbobby]

Here we have a woman named Karen Sudo. Karen is a rather unmethodical person. Though not because she can't be methodical, she was very meticulous about her transition, for instance, its more that she can't be bothered to be methodical unless it is something as important as that, especially since Karen is a firm believer that the funnest things in life are spontaneous. Sexuality statement time, Karen is a lesbian.

[lesmislettersdaily]

Father Fauchelevent

Volume 1: Fantine; Book 5: The Descent; Chapter 6: Father Fauchelevent

One morning M. Madeleine was passing through an unpaved alley of M. sur M.; he heard a noise, and saw a group some distance away. He approached. An old man named Father Fauchelevent had just fallen beneath his cart, his horse having tumbled down.

This Fauchelevent was one of the few enemies whom M. Madeleine had at that time. When Madeleine arrived in the neighborhood, Fauchelevent, an ex-notary and a peasant who was almost educated, had a business which was beginning to be in a bad way. Fauchelevent had seen this simple workman grow rich, while he, a lawyer, was being ruined. This had filled him with jealousy, and he had done all he could, on every occasion, to injure Madeleine.

Then bankruptcy had come; and as the old man had nothing left but a cart and a horse, and neither family nor children, he had turned carter.

The horse had two broken legs and could not rise. The old man was caught in the wheels. The fall had been so unlucky that the whole weight of the vehicle rested on his breast. The cart was quite heavily laden. Father Fauchelevent was rattling in the throat in the most lamentable manner.

They had tried, but in vain, to drag him out. An unmethodical effort, aid awkwardly given, a wrong shake, might kill him. It was impossible to disengage him otherwise than by lifting the vehicle off of him. Javert, who had come up at the moment of the accident, had sent for a jack-screw.

M. Madeleine arrived. People stood aside respectfully.

“Help!” cried old Fauchelevent. “Who will be good and save the old man?”

M. Madeleine turned towards those present:—

“Is there a jack-screw to be had?”

“One has been sent for,” answered the peasant.

“How long will it take to get it?”

“They have gone for the nearest, to Flachot’s place, where there is a farrier; but it makes no difference; it will take a good quarter of an hour.”

“A quarter of an hour!” exclaimed Madeleine.

It had rained on the preceding night; the soil was soaked.

The cart was sinking deeper into the earth every moment, and crushing the old carter’s breast more and more. It was evident that his ribs would be broken in five minutes more.

“It is impossible to wait another quarter of an hour,” said Madeleine to the peasants, who were staring at him.

“We must!”

“But it will be too late then! Don’t you see that the cart is sinking?”

“Well!”

“Listen,” resumed Madeleine; “there is still room enough under the cart to allow a man to crawl beneath it and raise it with his back. Only half a minute, and the poor man can be taken out. Is there any one here who has stout loins and heart? There are five louis d’or to be earned!”

Not a man in the group stirred.

“Ten louis,” said Madeleine.

The persons present dropped their eyes. One of them muttered: “A man would need to be devilish strong. And then he runs the risk of getting crushed!”

“Come,” began Madeleine again, “twenty louis.”

The same silence.

“It is not the will which is lacking,” said a voice.

M. Madeleine turned round, and recognized Javert. He had not noticed him on his arrival.

Javert went on:—

“It is strength. One would have to be a terrible man to do such a thing as lift a cart like that on his back.”

Then, gazing fixedly at M. Madeleine, he went on, emphasizing every word that he uttered:—

“Monsieur Madeleine, I have never known but one man capable of doing what you ask.”

Madeleine shuddered.

Javert added, with an air of indifference, but without removing his eyes from Madeleine:—

“He was a convict.”

“Ah!” said Madeleine.

“In the galleys at Toulon.”

Madeleine turned pale.

Meanwhile, the cart continued to sink slowly. Father Fauchelevent rattled in the throat, and shrieked:—

“I am strangling! My ribs are breaking! a screw! something! Ah!”

Madeleine glanced about him.

“Is there, then, no one who wishes to earn twenty louis and save the life of this poor old man?”

No one stirred. Javert resumed:—

“I have never known but one man who could take the place of a screw, and he was that convict.”

“Ah! It is crushing me!” cried the old man.

Madeleine raised his head, met Javert’s falcon eye still fixed upon him, looked at the motionless peasants, and smiled sadly. Then, without saying a word, he fell on his knees, and before the crowd had even had time to utter a cry, he was underneath the vehicle.

A terrible moment of expectation and silence ensued.

They beheld Madeleine, almost flat on his stomach beneath that terrible weight, make two vain efforts to bring his knees and his elbows together. They shouted to him, “Father Madeleine, come out!” Old Fauchelevent himself said to him, “Monsieur Madeleine, go away! You see that I am fated to die! Leave me! You will get yourself crushed also!” Madeleine made no reply.

All the spectators were panting. The wheels had continued to sink, and it had become almost impossible for Madeleine to make his way from under the vehicle.

Suddenly the enormous mass was seen to quiver, the cart rose slowly, the wheels half emerged from the ruts. They heard a stifled voice crying, “Make haste! Help!” It was Madeleine, who had just made a final effort.

They rushed forwards. The devotion of a single man had given force and courage to all. The cart was raised by twenty arms. Old Fauchelevent was saved.

Madeleine rose. He was pale, though dripping with perspiration. His clothes were torn and covered with mud. All wept. The old man kissed his knees and called him the good God. As for him, he bore upon his countenance an indescribable expression of happy and celestial suffering, and he fixed his tranquil eye on Javert, who was still staring at him.

[seoulshine]

it might've been a selfish act, to leave without as much as uttering a goodbye. they'd been good to her. they'd been family. but it's with that in mind, that cindy had come to the conclusion that they'd be fine without her. better, even. the loss of a comrade would be taxing, for a while, but they'd get around to repairing the hole in the crew one way or another. it's a good thing she stayed. luffy never failed to surround her with warmth, with his silly words and his unmethodical actions: the tight hug had tears dancing on the brim of her eyes, falling only when the siren's eyes tightly shut. the sobs were choked, quiet, hands trembling at her side, before circling around her captain to return the embrace. it's a good thing she didn't leave.

it was a complete shock to see cindy try and leave, especially with everything she’d been through, when she probably needed been the most. and if his timing had been any later, he probably wouldn’t have had the chance to persuade her. when she signs, he looks at her hands, before forming a response himself. you’re not useless, nobody’s useless. we wouldn’t be complete without you in the crew, voice or no voice. he signs, almost instinctively pulling her into a tight hug afterwards.