#yes I know the pandemic isn’t over but you know what I mean
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CALL ME WHAT YOU WANT 𓆩♡𓆪
(Book #1 of the Hellfire Gentlemen's Club series)
𝐌𝐎𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐍 𝐀𝐔 18+ plz
strip club owner!eddie x fem!exotic dancer!hargrove!reader
Chapter 002: Wing Man
You start your first night of work. Eddie requests a private show. But not for him; for his friend — a rich and lonely bachelor who can’t seem to get over his ex.
* = somewhat smut
** = smut
↳ chapters: 001, 002*, 003** , 004**, 005 , 006 , 007* , 008**, 009, 010, 011, 012* , 013**, 014**, 015, 016**, 017, 018, 019, 020
word count: 7.2k words
NSFW — lap dance, steve creaming his pants, abusive relationships, talks of trauma, steve and reader trauma dumping lol
pairing: lonely bachelor!steve x fem!exoticdancer!hargrove! reader (and lowkey eddie)
author’s note: yes we get with steve before we get with eddie, but we will get there okay??? 🫣🫣🫦 also don’t tell me you guys wouldn’t homie hop in hawkins because these men are SO FINE
tags: @changemunson , @the-fairy-anon , @ali-r3n
“Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance. Take you down another level, and get you dancing with the Devil” -Wicked Games by The Weeknd
♡
A sultry black set.
A hot pink set with bows. Caribbean blue. Army green for the military men. Some cuffs. Personal wet wipes. Sanitizer. And lastly, a stethoscope to play the part.
“I can’t believe you accepted a caregiving job,” Max scoffs as you both make your way out of Scrubs 4 Less. “Do you even have healthcare experience?”
Your stepsister loved to mask her prying with carefully crafted screening questions. Even if they sounded pessimistic.
“Sure I do,” you shrug. “Remember that summer I cared for Great-Aunt Dotty when she had Parkinson’s? Figured maybe it’d be similar.”
“I guess.”
You take it upon yourself to remind Max that you are certified in CPR. And with that cert, you saved numerous people from drowning as a lifeguard. Of course that was for one year during high school, but it was experience nonetheless.
"Well, what about the heavy lifting?"
"Easy. All in the legs." you pat your thighs. Despite being calm on the outside, you are getting nervous now. About everything.
"Takes a lot of core strength too. And upper body."
It's like she knows what you actually will be going to be doing. However, there are parallels between both professions, and you made sure you made a choice like that so you wouldn't have to lie as much about the physicality of things.
"You seemed to have gotten the job pretty fast,” Max notes.
"Nursing homes are really short staffed. Especially with the pandemic and everyone leaving from all the burnout, they’ll take anybody who qualifies."
"Did they even determine if you do?"
"Are you questioning my ability to take care of people?”
You know you’re being manipulative. You can spot a manipulator from a mile away. But this little white lie is for you and Max’s own good. Even if it means selling her a fake story. Even if it means lying. Living a double life.
“An abusive home life and all-timers isn’t comparable.”
“Have you considered that some people with Alzheimer’s are combative as well?”
“And you had to accept the graveyard shift?” she pries further, ignoring all your valid points.
“It pays more,” you answer sharply, readily. “Two dollar shift differential.”
“Oh my god, we’re practically millionaires.”
The sudden change in Max's behavior is really catching you off guard. She was optimistic on her birthday. A little withdrawn when the weekend was approaching. Now the pain is evident it is almost unbearable. Sure, Billy isn't a problem anymore, but with all of his chaos, Max has found solace in using her hobbies as coping mechanisms. Her body needs that adrenaline, and now you have cut off access to all of it.
Max can't go surf. She can't run around freely just yet because she doesn't know good routes and trails. She doesn't have friends in the area besides you, Robin, and Vicky. She misses Donovan.
Max is hurt. You know she is, but you don't blame her. Still, you’ve had it.
“Hey.” you snap.
Max halts. She knows she went too far.
“I know it's sucky... the situation we're in right now," you sigh. "But I'm doing this for us, remember? It’s temporary. We just need a soft place to land, and this is paving the way towards that.”
At least that’s something you didn’t have to lie about: It’s a sacrifice you were making for her.
———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-
Orientation day comes in a blink of an eye.
Eddie is giving you a tour of Hellfire while discussing how his particular ‘system’ works. You’ve got to give him credit. His system makes sense.
“I don’t ask my girls to pay to dance here,” he explains. “I just think that’s bogus. Also, it’s Hawkins. Not that many competitors, so if I let you dance here, you’re automatically staff.”
You two walk down the hall. Eddie shows you where you would clock in and out, promising you your punch-in code by the end of the week. You learn that everyone gets paid out every Friday, because in Eddie’s words, “fuck that biweekly shit”. Tips go home with you every night, but you are expected to help tip out staff members patrons don’t really see or interact with. Therefore: Jonathan’s girlfriend Nancy whose House Mom, Henry, and Argyle. The boys make their money from bussing and serving. Jonathan earns tips from POTIONS.
“I figured as much.”
You graze your hand along the kukris on the wall as Eddie talks. He stops to take note of it and gives you a boastful smile.
���You like ‘em?”
“Yeah, they’re pretty cool.”
“That’s the perk of owning your own business,” Eddie says exuding a lazy stretch to graze the kukris himself. “You choose where the money goes, when it goes, how it goes.”
He ponders for a while longer.
“Most of the time at least.”
Clearly a majority of the money also went to the chicken wings.
Eddie leads you to back of the house where he then proudly showcases his wing menu to you. There’s the Hawkins Hot Chick for Nashville inspired hot chicken. Chicken Strippers for the picky eaters. And the ‘Hot As Cluck’ buffalo wings with spice scales named after Metallica songs: Fuel (mild), Fight Fire with Fire (medium), Creeping Death (hot), and The Unforgiven (Extremely hot). All are served with one’s choice of carrots and celery or crinkle cut fries on the side.
“Crinkle cut fries are the best kind of fries,” Eddie states. “Ain’t that right, chef?”
“Ay ay!”
One chef. For the entire back of the house. Though that seems like the textbook definition of a staff shortage, the friendly Latino man with long, black hair that he concealed with a hairnet and baseball cap most likely had it covered. He flashes you a kind grin with kind, hooded eyes to match, quite possibly revealing to you that he’s likely stoned out of his mind. But if it helps him through the shift…
“Argyle’s the man,” Eddie explains. “Pitched the chicken wing idea to me when we were both blasted.”
Suspicions confirmed.
“Is it just Argyle?” you inquire waving hello to him.
“Sometimes Eds helps out back here too,” Argyle answers for him. “Like when we’re really fucking shlammed, he’ll come back here and help cook.”
Argyle turns to you. You smile at him.
“But most of the time I got it,” he says. “That man’s got enough on his plate.”
“Yeah, Argyle’s a beast,” Eddie confirms. “Don’t know what I’d do without him.”
While Eddie tidies up back of the house, you and Argyle converse with one another. He’s 28, produces music on the side, and learned how to cook from his mom at the age of three. California native as well. By observing the mini station he has set up, you notice that Argyle keeps a stash of Yerba Mate with him at all times, and some bud in his mini gym bag. You also learn that he and Eddie often take breaks together, hot boxing one another’s vans as if it were some sort of competition. But, as Argyle had mentioned, with how much Eddie currently has on his plate, those joint breaks (no pun intended) have been pushed to the backburner.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Hargrove,” Argyle concludes. “Excited to have you on our team.”
“Likewise!” you shake his hand with a smile. “Looking forward to bugging you for chicken wings.”
“You bug me all you want, mamas,” he insists. “I’ll make you allll the chicken wings in the world.”
“You a flats girl or a drumstick girl?” Eddie questions.
“Flats,” you respond instantly.
You receive a distraught gasp from the cook while Eddie cackles.
“Atta girl,” Eddie smirks patting your back. “I knew I liked you.”
“BLAS.PHE.MY!” Argyle screams. “Drumsticks are where it’s at bro.”
The three of you argue back and forth about chicken for the next couple of minutes, Eddie sticking beside you through and through. Though play-fighting with your new coworkers seems meniscal in the grand scheme of things, you reveled in it. It’s the first time in a while you felt a sense of community outside your sister. You wanted to savor it, especially since you know that this is temporary.
“You’re a red flag, Hargrove,” Argyle jokes, clutching his chest. “You were perfect in my eyes until you said you were a flats girl.”
“Well it’s a good thing she’s mine and not yours,” Eddie jeers.
Your heart flutters. Eddie and chicken wings. You’ve GOT to be in heaven.
“Alright, word,” Argyle calls after Eddie as he pulls you away from the kitchen. “Word. I’m still gonna spoil her with food like she’s mine though.”
“He’s such a flirt,” Eddie says to you once you’re both out of earshot. “Endearing and endangering at the same time.”
“All in good nature right?”
“‘Course!” he exclaims. “We’re all about respecting women at Hellfire. Everything’s lighthearted banter.”
And you’ll revel in that too. Especially since ‘respect’ and ‘lighthearted banter’ weren’t things you were able to experience at home.
“Also!” Eddie adds. “Respectfully… Wear something simple but classy on Friday.”
“Ooh,” you chime. “Simple and classy?”
“Yeah, I’m talking neutral tones. Red lipstick also preferred but you can do whatever you want. I’ve got something I need you to do for me on your very first day.”
I’ll do anything for you, Eddie. Your intrusive thoughts are starting to take over.
———————𓆩♡𓆪—————-
It’s Friday night now and everyone is in their respective stations preparing for the rush. Argyle is prepping the fryer while Chrissy flirts with him for nachos. She waves at you with her fingers and gestures that you can have some too. You smile and mouth a, “thank you” to her.
You really like Chrissy. Of all the dancers you’ve seen so far, she is the most memorable. She is charming and sweet, soft but firm with her boundaries. She has regulars lining up for her daily, all with different types of quirks and interests. But Chrissy somehow fits all of their molds, just by how fast she can switch from doe to siren depending on her audience. You want to be just like her.
You and Eddie stop by the kitchen before heading off to finish orientation. There are chicken wings — flats only, of course — on the line waiting for you with a note scribbled on the back of an old ticket order.
“Shy Girl<3”
“Eat up, mamas,” Argyle encourages you. “Gonna need the energy for tonight.”
“Yeah!” Chrissy cheers. “It’s Fridaaay!”
You thank them before heading out with Eddie once again. Eddie steals a flat from you and flashes a thumbs up to the cook before you two leave.
“Mm,” he approves. “Fight Fire with Fire Buffalo.”
You are just about done with wrapping up orientation training and ready to start the first night on your own. That is until Mike Wheeler, Nancy’s younger brother and bus boy, comes along and interrupts Eddie’s train of thought. You walk with Eddie in silence, munching on your food while Mike relentlessly hounds him about bringing his girlfriend into the club. She is 18 but Eddie is refusing.
“But but-” Mike stammers. “The club is already eighteen plu-”
“But nothing,” Eddie interrupts. “This is Hellfire Club. Not babysitting club.”
“Well I’m 19 and you let me work here. Why does it matter if she’s 18?”
“Because you’re a dude, Wheeler,” Eddie hisses in return. “It’s different for the ladies.”
Not willing to risk any liabilities, he leaves Mike with just that. You follow Eddie, fiddling nervously with your hands as you watch him tsk and shake his head in disapproval.
“I can’t have teenage girls in here,” Eddie mutters. “That’s just blatantly obvious right? Or have I lost it?”
“No, right. Totally!” you agree.
Eddie has another rule. No strippers under the age of 20. Anyone under, including ages of 18 and 19 are children to him. He admits that he gets squeamish when guys bring their younger looking girlfriends into the club. You assume it pertained to his colleague’s girlfriends too.
You walk past the bar with Eddie, waving hi to Jonathan as you did so. Dustin is at the bar as well but is too busy to say hello. You manage to glance over and watch him fix his hair, trying to look his absolute best while FaceTiming his Mormon e-girl from Utah, Suzie. After eavesdropping for the past couple of days, you pick up that she insists on video chatting with Dustin every time he is at Hellfire to ensure his fidelity. Suzie wanted to be his “only wifey” to which ‘Dusty Bun’ assures her that she is.
“Uh oh,” comes a voice ever so soft it sounds eerie when it echoes through the club. “Someone’s in a bad mood today.”
Slithering into your periphery is the same tall, lean guy that you ran into earlier last week. Today he's sporting a white tank top that revealed a couple small tattoos scattered around his body, black pants that were tight enough to be yours, a loose wallet chain belt, and chunky work docs. His gorgeous blonde hair looks attainably messy by what you suspect is mousse. He smells of beer and cigarettes tonight, his tired eyes a precursor to his lust-filled gaze. A poster boy for all the men you wouldn’t want to bring home to your parents is none other than,
“Henry Creel,” Eddie says. “Mike’s just picking a bone with me. Have you met Hargrove? She’s our newest dancer.”
It’s seemingly Henry’s first day back. From the first day of orientation to now, you’ve only had run-ins with Jim, the older gentleman who is also a bouncer. Jim spent years with the Hawkins PD, but after a scandal that only Eddie and his peers seem to know about, Jim found a home protecting young women at the Hellfire Gentlemen’s Club. The only place that gave him a chance.
You like Jim. You like everyone here. You are also ecstatic to see Henry again, this time as a dancer. You can see the excitement blooming in his eyes, with a steady increase in his pupil size by the second.
“Well, well,” Henry smirks. “Look who decided to join us.”
You two shake hands again.
“Henry’s my other bouncer,” Eddie explains, but you already knew that. “He’s my right hand man. He’s tiny but mighty. Could snap bones in an instant.”
You peer over at Henry with shocked eyes, to which Henry acknowledges with a dramatic bow.
“You’ll see it,” Eddie hovers a hand over your back. “I sure hope not anytime soon, but there’s always that one douchebag.”
“And they always underestimate me too,” Henry says. “I get a nice kick out of it. It’s a win-win.”
Henry is certainly not beefy, but judging by his muscle tone and sharp upright demeanor, he can put up a fight. Dude seems like he does a lot of the dirty work for Eddie. He can get away with it too.
After bidding ‘see you later’ to Henry, you continue walking with Eddie.
“So,” he starts. “Did you put together a cute simple outfit for tonight?”
“Mhm,” you nod.
“Good,” Eddie says. “I can tell it’s gonna look amazing. I dig the red lipstick and the choker.”
Eddie wanted classy so you gave him classy. Underneath the cloak, you are sporting a lacy black set with a matching black choker and classic red lipstick. Your hair is straightened tonight since beach waves are your signature.
“You want a sneak peak?” you smirk.
Eddie quirks up. “Oh man, do I? Let me at it.”
You take off your cloak to reveal what you have underneath.
Eddie stops in his tracks, taking in the sight in front of him. His gaze is both soft, yet lout. Delicate in the brows, yet carnivorous in the eyes. Slowly, his jaw lowers, uttering a silent gasp as he fully processes the sight of the vixen — you — in front of him.
“Jeez…” he strains. “You look…”
You blush. Electricity whirls through you as Eddie continues to relish in your beauty.
“Showstopping,” Eddie finishes.
He reaches his arms out and you take them, letting yourself fall into his chest as he pulls you to him. During the embrace, he sets his lips beside your cheek, brushing against them delicately as he gives you a verbal kiss.
“Mwah!” he exclaims, leaving you longing for a stronger peck. You feel like you’re on a cloud when he spins you to get a full 360 of your look. “I was expecting like a light color, or pastel…but black — black is your color.”
“Yeah?” you reply. “It’s not too edgy? Choker and all?”
“A lil rough around the edges won’t hurt,” the club owner approves. “He’s gonna love it.”
You follow closely behind. “He?”
Your first client. You had a feeling that’s what Eddie had planned for you today, but reality didn’t sit in until right now.
"Ever given a lap dance before?" Eddie inquires.
"Yeah, but not in this setting."
He seems amused with your answer. Eddie smirks as he gives you a nudge. "Perfect."
You two are walking down the corridor now, down to an isolated room at the end masked by a beaded curtain. You’re unsure if the goosebumps that form on your skin is because of the slight chilliness of the club or because you were walking into a seductive hideout with the boss you had the hots for.
You two stop just a yard short of the curtain. Eddie turns to face you.
"I've got a buddy named Steve. Not short for anything, his parents just... loved the 80s." he chuckles. “You’re giving him a private show tonight. One hour.”
Eddie’s buddy. The pressure is on. The name rings a bell, you believe Dustin was talking about him the first day you set foot in Hellfire.
“Oh,” you say. “I think I heard your friend Dustin talking about him last week.”
As if it were some inside joke, Eddie sighs and rolls his eyes.
“Oh, yeah,” Eddie mutters. “Don’t even get me started on those two.”
Eddie motions you forward, extending his arm to signal an “after you” gesture as you proceed into the private show room. The beads of the curtain carelessly clash into one another as Eddie saunters in.
"Anyway, Steve has been going through it lately. His lady left him for another dude, he lost his job because the city wanted another basic coffee shop instead of a place to rent cheesy B movies…and the last time he worked in the food industry he had to wear a sailor’s uniform, so he’s since opted out.”
You wander around what was going to be your office for the next hour as Eddie aimlessly takes his own path and furthers his lay-down.
“His folks want nothing to do with him because he doesn't wanna be nepotized by them. When he’s not working, he’s babysitting — you guessed it — Dustin and the rest of the boys when they’re not here or playing D&D with me. Oh yeah, and on the topic of girlfriend, he hasn't gotten laid in a fat minute.”
Eddie pauses.
"It's kinda depressing,” he says. “Now that I say it all out loud.”
He makes a sharp turn and walks toward the boombox he kept in the corner of the room.
"That is depressing," you mumble nonchalantly, as if you yourself had not been laid in a fat minute… contrary to your obnoxious brother’s popular belief.
“How do you sleep at night knowing you’re a fucking slut?” Billy’s voice haunts you.
You’ve only had one real boyfriend and Billy knew that. And that boyfriend, shortly after he left you for the girl he told you not to worry about, admitted that you were simply a placeholder for him. They’re happily married now and it tortures you knowing that being the first choice was never in the cards. Billy knew that too and used that backstory to fuel your insecurities. Billy knew you hated feeling used, yet brought it up every chance he got. Making his victims feel small, that was the source of his power. You shudder it off.
You watch as Eddie plays around with the boombox, ensuring that the aux chord was working along with all its other components.
"Tell you what," Eddie begins to barter. "You give him a good show, you can keep a hundred percent of your tips tonight. Consider it a sign on bonus."
“Wow, Eddie really?” you exclaim. “That…helps me out a lot. Thanks so much.
“Of course, doll,” Eddie grins. “Happy to help.”
Eddie finishes up tidying the room before walking back over to you.
“I can’t get over how amazing you look,” he adds one last time. “You’re gonna knock his socks off.”
“Thank you, Eddie,” you thank him one last time.
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.”
He lingers for a while longer before going outside to look for Steve. Meanwhile, heart’s-a-fluttering you try to acquaint yourself with the place, choosing a seductive song of your liking before getting prepped.
Wicked Games by The Weeknd.
More ruckus sounds from outside of the show room. You assume your client has arrived.
“That’s the boy,” Eddie confirms. “BRB-right back.”
You excuse your boss as he makes his way over to his friend. While you wait, your mind begins to race. Does your outfit look okay? Does your breath smell? Do you smell? Despite all the wardrobe and wellness checks you’ve done, your mind is insistent that something else was off. To calm your nerves, you decide to take a quick gulp of Bombay Sapphire, a gin Eddie had provided for the room, before Steve walks in.
Liquid courage. May help with the performance too.
“There he is,” Eddie cheers as the two men greet each other outside. “What took you so long?”
“There was uh, traffic,” a softer voice responds.
“I call bull.”
The two talk a bit more, voices too quiet for you to make out what they’re saying. That, or the sound of your heart pounding against your chest drowned out their conversation. Steve sounds friendly. Timid, but friendly nonetheless.
You listen in on Eddie’s spiel about you. He called you stunning, explained that you just moved from California, and that you are exactly Steve’s type. Whatever that could possibly mean. You then hear Eddie go over the rules. No touching you without consent. No verbal or physical harassment. No sexual intercourse. And to tip generously.
“She sounds lovely. Thanks for the run down, Eds.”
“‘Course. She’s all yours, Big Boy.”
The beaded curtains clash once more.
In walks a man around Eddie’s age, late 20s, early 30s with sleek mahogany hair and slight puffy eyes. He’s sporting a gray North Face sleeveless jacket with a plain black shirt underneath and denim blue Levi’s. He’s a lot more preppy than you thought he would be. Steve’s reaction to you was similar to that of Eddie, despite how different they seem from each other.
“Hi,” he greets you.
“Hi,” you smile. “You’re Steve?”
He nods shyly. “You’re who they call Shy Girl?”
“That’s meee.”
It doesn’t take a body language analyst to see that Steve is guarded. It takes another fragile, sullen demeanor to know one.
“Are you one of Eddie’s shy friends?”
The comment earns a laugh from Steve. “You think I’m shy?”
“Just a little.”
He attempts to mask a gulp. “I’ve just never gotten a lap dance before.”
“You think I’m supposed to believe that?”
You stalk towards him and rest a hand on his chest when proximity and Steve himself grants you permission. You sink your palm in deeper when you pick up he’s receptive to it.
Oh yeah, that’s all gin.
“With your handsome self?”
Steve’s blushing now. “Yeah…strip clubs are kinda not my thing. They’re starting to be though, cuz I always come and support Eddie.”
“What a nice boyfriend,” you joke.
“Eddie and I do have a budding bromance,” he admits with a laugh.
“Boy I’d love to be in the middle of that,” you tease him honestly.
Steve is left stunned and speechless while you grab his hand and lead him to the futon in the middle of the room. He attempts to relax, exhaling the tension out of his shoulders and manspreading as he watches you encompass him. You walked in a slow circle around Steve as the music starts and he peers up at you with curious eyes. Alas, you stop in front of him, cupping his face softly in your hands and synchronizing your hip movements to the rhythm of the song.
Relate to your customers. Talk to them. Build a connection with them, you think to yourself.
“So how’s your day been?”
Steve cracks a faint smile. "Good, how's yours?"
"Good," you chime as you slowly lower yourself onto his lap.
Steve sharply inhales, sucking the tension he had just released right back into his body. You shake your head in disapproval and stroke his face calmly.
“No, no,” you coo. “Just sit back, relax. You’re safe with me.”
“I’m safe with you, huh?” he responds in an is-that-so kind of fashion. “You seem like pure danger to me.”
“Oh, please,” you snarkily disregard his comment. “I’m an angel.”
“In a place called Hellfire?” he challenges you. “I find that hard to believe.”
Steve wants to touch you. So bad. But he refrains. You feel it in his levitating palms, resting just inches away from the small of your back. You start to lightly ride his thigh, hoping to catch his palm in passing as you move your hips about. Instead you’re met with something hard at the base of his pants, an outline and protrusion that wasn’t there before.
Steve looks down and acknowledges it with a shrug.
"Sorry," he chuckles. "It has a mind of its own."
You laugh faintly in return. "It's okay. I'd say it's responding appropriately."
"Yeah?"
"Given the circumstances," you say as you grind slower, deeper. "Yeah."
"Well, that's a relief."
Steve is cute. And a polite man who values your consent was sure to receive it. You two lock gazes before one of you dared to speak again. It all feels like a blind date, and you’re two giddy young adults.
"You..." you start. “You can touch me if you’d like.”
"Really?" Steve asks. "Usually dancers don't let you do that."
"It depends who you ask," you smile. "Consent is subjective...and you have mine. C'mon."
He obliges and starts to graze your ass softly with his hands. You run his hands through his hair, then along his neck without lifting them. A muffled moan is slowly released from his mouth.
"Shit," he sputters. "Feels really good."
He tosses his head back.
"You make me feel so good."
"Aww," you grin. "Me?"
"Yeah you," his voice is deeper now. Huskier. "All because of you."
His hand moves upwards towards your bra and he begins to fiddle with the straps, and then the clasps. You continue your steady grinding, rolling your hips to the beat of the music, tossing your head back for the full effect while Steve holds back the urge to cup your perfect breasts in his kneady hands.
A whimper escapes Steve’s mouth when you find the sweet place to roll, resting a palm over his abdomen for leverage.
“Needy, are we?” you tease him. “Needy for me, Stevie?”
“So fucking needy,” he breathes, a nervous gulp swallowing another sneaky groan. “You’re gonna be the death of me, woman.”
I’ve got my heart right here, I’ve got my scars right here.
Suddenly, you cease the grinding, going from cowgirl to reverse. Grabbing a hold of both his knees with the back of both your hands, you sink down to the floor, knees bent, slightly out turned. Your hands move from his knees to encompass his elbows, accommodating the playful headlock he abruptly decided to have you in, watching you squat down beneath him.
“Mmm,” he hums. “You’re so fucking pretty, baby.”
His arms creep from the sides of your face to the front of your face. You crane your head upwards, peering up at him and refrain from shivering when he brings an arm across your neck. His other hand rests on your face, stroking it tenderly.
“Get up here and, ride my thighs again, please.” he pleads. “It was feeling so good.”
“Okay,” you oblige before standing back up.
“Before you do though, let me get a good look at your ass.”
You stand there for him, bending down ever so slightly so he could run his hands across your back. He grabs a fist full of your hair gently with one hand and strokes your ass cheek with the other.
"Wow," Steve hums as he runs his fingers along the birth mark on your lower back. "I like this birthmark."
"Yeah?" you say. "Some people have said it looks like a tramp stamp."
"It's cute," Steve insists, pulling you onto his lap. “It kinda looks like a bat."
He points to where the wings would be and the fangs and you laugh. No one's admired your tramp stamp-esque birthmark the way Steve did.
"Thanks," you reply. "My brother has a matching one."
You pause.
"Sorry, that didn't sound all that sexy."
Steve tosses his head back and chuckles, hand resting firmly on your ass again. "You look sexy talking regardless, so I don’t mind.”
The chemistry between you and Steve feels so natural. You know if your nurturing heart felt like this with all clients you would be in big trouble. This profession isn’t for everyone and you realize that. But you decide to realize everything else later. Meanwhile, your focus right now is pleasing Steve.
You resume the thigh riding per his request, and chase your own subtle high as you did so. Steve whimpers and whines, seeming to long for you even more with every stroke of his hair, every brush against his cheek, every steady and calculated grind against his���
"Woah, are you okay?"
Suddenly you’re cut off by Steve abruptly pushing you off his lap. When you peer over at him, his face has gone completely red.
Did you do something wrong? Did you violate a boundary? Millions of thoughts race through your head. You can’t get fired on the first day of your new job…
"Y-yeah, I'm fine, I just..." Steve stammers, flushing a deeper red hue with every word. “I... uh, kinda came in my pants."
"Oh..." you begin.
"I am so sorry," Steve sighs. "Embarrassed is an understatement. I’m such a loser.”
You two start frantically talking over each other, one extremely apologetic, another sympathetic to the concerns. Again, it’s like you two are clumsy young adults on a blind date set up by your bold friends.
"It's been a while... so..." Steve stammers.
"Steve," you stop him.
"And..." he cuts out.
"It's okay," you reassure him. “It’s okay, Steve. If you need a break, we can stop.”
“Sounds good,” he agrees with a resigned sigh, the red colored flush migrating to his ears. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
You go to put your cloak back on again and strut towards the gin. Perhaps offering the man a drink would help loosen up his nerves.
"What should we do with the allotted time left?" Steve wonders eyes following you. He’s rubbing his knees anxiously with his palms. “Eddie has this room booked for an hour. He needs to think you're doing splits on my dick or something or else he won't be satisfied."
Laughter erupts from the deepest parts of your belly at Steve's comment. Steve can't help but laugh as well.
"Hm, we can wait a bit and I can give you another lap dance?” you suggest. “Or a strip tease?"
You weren't used to those words coming out of your mouth, so you attempted to make it sound as normal as possible. Wow, you really just gave a lap dance. And someone came from it.
"Do you think..." Steve inquires. "That we can just... talk?"
----
So you and Steve do exactly that. You talk about your families, and your aspirations, your deepest fears, and your core values. Steve Harrington isn’t the loser he thinks he is. He’s a really cool guy. But deeply misunderstood.
“So you and your brother have similar birthmarks?” Steve questions.
“Yeah,” you confirm. “Except his is on his belly. We literally took the term identical twins to a whole new level.”
He laughs.
“Your brother sounds cool.”
“He was.”
Steve gasps in astonishment.
“Oh, my god. I’m sorry. Is he…”
“He’s not dead. Just an asshole.”
The color returns to his face. He exhales steadily and shakes his head. You find his reaction funny, despite how twisted that made you sound.
“Dead to you though?”
“Pretty much,” you giggle. “Dead to me.”
You two do a cheers to that with your alcohol-filled glasses and take another painful sip. It burns.
“Tell me about yourself now,” you prompt him.
There’s a dramatic pause.
“Well,” Steve begins. “I’m an only child. So eyes have been on me for as long as I can remember. What’s Stevie up to? This is what we expect of him and this is what happens if he’s not what we make him out to be. It didn’t take til young adulthood to realize that I have been living in my parents’ shadow. I don’t even know what I like.”
Steve spurs on about how he has struggled with his identity, going back and forth between if what he was pursuing was a desire of his or his parents’.
“And for a while I thought I knew who Steve was. Until I lost myself again in a girl named Nancy.”
“Aw,” you pout.
“A girl,” Steve pauses waiting for you to catch on. “Named Nancy.”
Your eyes widen. “House Mom Nancy?!”
Steve nods as you slowly piece things together.
“So Jonathan’s girlfriend is your…”
“Ex girlfriend,” Steve confirms. “Small world, huh?”
You suppose it wasn’t good that Hawkins is so small. You’d hate for someone to recognize you when you’re taking a casual stroll outside.
Nonetheless, you push that concern to the side and continue your conversation with Steve.
“What happened?”
“Some petty high school shit,” he explains. “But it’s always been her. She made me a better me. The closest to Steve that I’ve ever felt.”
“Wow,” you say. “So you saw a future with her?”
“Marriage, kids, everything,” Steve confirms. “Then she decided I wasn’t what — who — she wanted.”
It’s silent for a while. Steve shakes his head bitterly and downs the rest of his drink. You slosh yours around waiting for him to speak again. Besides, if you did, you’d end up ugly crying about your ex. And no one wants their stripper trauma dumping on them when they’re supposed to be performing.
Thankfully, Steve is the first to speak again.
“Yeah, Nance. She looks… she looks happy,” he turns to you with dismal eyes. “I don’t ever wanna get in the way of that.”
“Do you ever see her here?”
He shakes his head. “Nah, she’s in the back being House Mom, making sure all the girls are taken care of and all that. And I’m sure she doesn’t come up front because she knows Eddie has been trying to play wingman.”
You chuckle. “With a stripper?”
“With anyone,” Steve chuckles. “God that sounds awful. I sound like a loser.”
“Would you stop saying that?” you snap. “You are not a loser, Steve.”
“I know I’m not a loser. Just feel like it sometimes. Especially when it dawns on you that you’ve been living life for other people.”
“I kinda know how you feel.”
You two lock eyes again. Steve rests a hand on top of yours, intertwining your fingers briefly before he begins playing with each of your fingers one by one.
"I guess…going back to the previous topic…” he proceeds. “If I could change anything about myself, I would've done more of what Steve wants to do. Not what Todd and Marsha want Steve to do. Or what Tommy H. and Carol want Steve to do. Because maybe then Nancy and I would’ve been endgame. Or maybe Allison. Possibly Tammy? Who knows? See? Everyone’s world but Steve’s.”
"Steve," you start. "I hope you realize that I have no idea who any of these people are. It’s kinda hard to keep up.”
"And that is such a relief to hear that," he sighs again, this time in exasperation. "I just feel so free talking about them to someone who doesn't know who they are. Hawkins is small, you know. And it’s good that the only bias you can form is in my favor since you only know of me."
You offer him a consoling pat atop the hand, to which he responds by leaning his head on your shoulder. With how tender everything has been with Steve, there’s a temptation to plant a delicate kiss on his forehead. But you stop yourself.
"I'd like to know you, know you, though,” you find yourself saying.
He gazes up at you. You two smile at each other.
“I’d like to know you more too, Shy Girl,” he answers. “If you’d let me.”
“Duh, it’s what I just said.”
He chuckles. “You’re not saying that for the tips?”
“No. Just human to human.”
You stroke his cheek longingly, running your hand along his stubble.
"It's also been a while since I've gotten laid too," you admit. "And I've got a lot of pent up stress I need to release. You seem like a trustworthy person to do that with.”
The energy changes. Steve’s grip on your hand tightens.
"Oh yeah?" He rubs your thumb with his and soon you find yourselves holding hands.
"Yeah.”
“Sounds like we have a deal then, Shy Girl.”
Before Steve gets any ideas, you interrupt him.
“I don't wanna have sex at work," you admit. "Especially not on the clock."
"Oh, yeah I didn’t think it’d be now. Some people do find that hot though.”
"It's my first day. I can’t disappoint Eddie this early in the game.”
"You're kidding."
You shake your head.
"Wow, I would've thought you've been doing this a while."
You blush. "Thank you. But nope, you’re my Guinea pig.”
Steve continues to gawk in amazement. Then he reaches for his wallet, grabbing a huge wad of Benjamin Franklins and handing it to you.
"Tell you what," Steve bargains. "You buy yourself something nice, get your bills paid, and come through in a couple days. The roomie won't be home so we'll have the place to ourselves. We can get takeout or something too. Whatever makes you comfortable, of course.”
You bite your lip. "I'd like that."
“Good. I’d like that too.”
———-
"So, how was it?" you hear Eddie ask Steve.
"Dude...I just about creamed my pants," he says as you hold back laughter. "You got yourself a good one."
"Nothing's ever too TMI for you, Harrington," Eddie says. "But thanks for the imagery."
"Yeah. I gotta get going now. I got laundry to put away at home. It's been piling so much I think it's going to tip over."
“Roger,” Eddie says before bidding him goodbye. “Oh, speaking of which, did you tip her good?”
“You bet I did. Woman like her needs to be spoiled rotten.”
————
You make your way back to the dressing room after saying bye to Steve and finishing the flats Argyle had specially made for you. At your locker, you subtly attempt to count the hundreds Steve gave you for his lap dance and talk session. The man left you 10 of them. A whole band.
You were stunned. What did King Steve do for a living anyways? It didn’t matter to you. You had enough for groceries, gas, and a portion of your rent, all earned in an hour’s work, and all yours to keep as Eddie insisted.
The realization makes your heart skip a beat. You and your sister were good for the next few weeks.
Knock, knock.
“Don’t freak out ladies, it’s just me!” Eddie shouts from the other side of the door. “Put your cloaks on I’m coming in!”
You watch as the girls scurry to get their covers back on. The amount of respect Eddie has for his dancers is insane. Perhaps it’s common decency but it was such a striking difference than what you were used to. It warmed your heart in a way, but also made you sad. You deserved this respect all your life.
When Eddie finds you, he starts towards you, a look of approval spread wide across his face. As deeply as you wanted it to be because he found you attractive, you infer that it’s because you’re bringing in good business — and that you’re good, given a small amount of experience with the pole.
You two are face to face now. Eddie speaks up first.
“Steve, uh,” he says. “Steve really likes you.”
“Oh really?” you smile. “I’m glad.”
“You’re just a natural, Shy Girl,” he compliments you. “Everyone’s just raving about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Based on what I’ve seen so far and what Stevie told me, yeah,” he confirms. “But I guess it’s no surprise. Shy girls are almost always the freakiest, huh?”
You try not to laugh while you’re witnessing the imagination of your boss running in the complete opposite direction of what really happened between you and Steve. Nevertheless, you let him. You didn’t mind taking up space in your dashing boss’s mind.
“You should come to work a little early next time you’re on,” Eddie says. “I’d like to take you to lunch.”
Heat spreads across your cheeks. “Really?”
“‘Course! I do it with all my dancers as a welcome thing. I’d like to know more about you. You’re more than just a pretty face and someone who simply works for me.”
‘I do it with all my dancers.’
Your heart sinks. Back to square one.
Eddie clears his throat.
“Anyway,” he says. “I’m gonna head out now. Gonna go see the lady friend. I’ve got Johnny boy, Argyle, and Henry holding down the fort.”
The tinge in your heart intensifies.
“Oh, sounds fun!”
“Yeah, I rarely see her cuz she bartends. Even though we work similar hours we work opposite days. But she got first cut tonight so I’m heading over.”
“Have fun, Eddie.”
“I sure will,” Eddie says. “Goodnight, Shy Girl.”
“Goodnight, Eddie.”
Eddie soon disappears out of sight and now your shift seems ten times longer. Regardless, you stuff your tips into your tote bag and prepare to meander around the club, enticing other bachelors for a dance.
Without Eddie around, it seems less exciting.
“Doing it for Max,” you remind yourself while fixing your hair in the mirror in front of you.
You reach for your phone to see the amount of time that has transpired since the private show with Steve. But the clock wasn’t your concern when your Home Screen lights up.
Your heart nearly sinks to the floor.
Billy Hargrove
1 Missed Call
Billy Hargrove
iMessage: 1 message
You open it.
What the actual fuck.
#the babyboyification of steve harrington#daddy eddie#eddie munson fanfic#stranger things#eddie munson smut#Steve#steve harrington#Steve harrington smut#Steve and reader#Eddie and trader
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why joel was right to save ellie bc i have a lot of opinions and by god i’m gonna share em
so since the show has premiered i’ve seen this debate flare up again and a lot of people saying joel “robbed the world of a cure” when he saved ellie but lets be real, the fireflies were never gonna make that cure.
first off in the original game the hospital and operating room were FILTHY. and yes in the remaster they retconned it to be clean but that just seems silly to me. the fireflies had so little infrastructure that they were wiped out by ONE angry old man in a single night, where are they getting hospital cleaning crews? where are they getting the supplies to properly and i mean PROPERLY sanitize a working OR? more importantly WHO were the medical staff? what were their qualifications? to pull off what they wanted they would’ve needed a team of brilliant scientists specializing in different specific fields and i doubt any of them had been to med school recently. the outbreak was over 20 years old by that point, and medicine is a continually evolving field. those licenses were EXPIRED and even if they had experience during the pandemic it likely would’ve been in field medicine, which is not the same as epidemiology or neuroscience or any of the things they would’ve needed specializing in to get a cure. also the fact that they were saying “we’re gonna make a vaccine!” was another red flag, bc fungal infections aren’t even treated w vaccines. it just goes to show they didn’t know what they were doing. they were just reckless and desperate and ellie would’ve died needlessly.
secondly killing ellie especially right off the bat would make NO sense. what if they find out later on they need a live subject or more samples or whatever? well too late your only subject is dead. why wouldn’t they do blood tests? imaging? or if the cordyceps is only in the brain you can still do a biopsy without killing the person. again, these people didn’t know what they were doing. they were grasping at straws and even if they had gone through with their original plan they probably wouldn’t have been able to synthesize a cure anyway. the sample would’ve expired or been contaminated in the dirty hospital or they would’ve fucked up their sample through ignorance. the whole rushing straight to pulling ellie’s brain out was ridiculous. they would’ve killed a kid needlessly without a second thought.
which brings me to my next point. the fireflies aren’t exactly cut and dry good guys either. i may be reaching w this and i need to rewatch the premiere episode to confirm this but they don’t seem all that picky about their targets and civilians seem to get caught up in them a little too easy. the fireflies aren’t super concerned about human life if it gets in the way of their cause, i mean they were recruiting young kids and giving them weapons just like fedra did. there’s a reason tommy left them high and dry. they’re extremists and they don’t care who they hurt or exploit so long as it serves their cause. they aren’t philanthropists and they FOR SURE would not have been giving out that cure out of the goodness of their hearts. they would’ve gatekept it to themselves and they absolutely would’ve used it as a recruiting tool or political bargaining chip.
but more importantly even in the very unlikely situation they COULD make a successful cure AND mass produce it AND move it cross country which they clearly don’t have the resources for, there’s no way fedra would’ve let them get away with it. their fascist control is all justified in the name of preventing infection, if the disease is no longer a threat that’s a massive blow to fedra’s power. they might’ve been chasing around fireflies for setting off a few car bombs or whatever but if you think fedra isn’t going full extermination mode if they find out the fireflies have a cure you’re kidding yourself. and we’ve clearly established the fireflies would be crushed if they had fedras full attention given that they were pretty much eradicated by one guy in a single night.
and if we’ve learned anything from our own covid pandemic, it’s that if you want to effectively immunize a whole population it needs to be WIDESPREAD. you can’t just treat a few people and call it a day, EVERYONE needs to take the cure or the disease is going to survive and mutate until it can come back in a treatment-resistant variant again and again and again. and after a 20 year outbreak the kind of infrastructure you need to make that happens is gone. it just doesn’t exist anymore. fedra is probably the only group with the level of organization and infrastructure anywhere CLOSE to being able to achieve that kind of feat and i doubt even they could, and even if they could they wouldn’t.
so the fireflies were NEVER gonna be able to make a cure in the first place, they were NEVER gonna be able to mass produce and distribute it, they were NEVER going to be handing it out to anyone they weren’t tight with, and even if they had been well equipped philanthropists who could make a cure and were actually giving it out freely fedra would’ve crushed them immediately.
and i’ve also seen people argue that either way it should’ve been ellie’s choice but i disagree. ellie was a traumatized CHILD with severe survivors guilt. she was not mature enough or in the right headspace to make that kind of decision. JOEL was the closest thing to a legal guardian she had, and it was HIS responsibility to protect her until she was old enough to make decisions like that for herself AND HE DID. a kid should not be allowed to make that choice even if they want to because they’re a KID. also the fireflies weren’t gonna let joel live anyway, i’m pretty sure they were planning to kill him even if he complied.
and ultimately it’s not like joel was considering all this when he made his choice, he saved ellie because he LOVED her. like i’m sure he picked up on some red flags and knew things were sketch and realized the fireflies would probably fail and she’d die for nothing but more than anything he went back bc that was HIS BABY and he wasn’t letting desperate assholes sacrifice her for their cause. “save who you can save” remember? maybe you can’t single handedly change the world or make some miracle cure but you can do what you can for the people you love and maybe that’s enough. maybe you can never make the world go back to the way it was and maybe you SHOULDN’T but you can take it as it is one step at a time and you can do it with the family you’ve made. i think that’s a much better takeaway and i don’t like how the “joel was selfish and did the objectively bad and wrong thing” narrative in tlou2 minimizes that.
#the last of us#tlou#tlou hbo#joel tlou#tlou series#tlou part 2#joel and ellie#joel miller#ellie williams
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There's a handful of reasons I relate to Wylan so strongly, but one of them has to be the unique experience of being an illiterate adult.
A few years ago, right before the pandemic, I moved across the world to work in a country where I didn't speak the main language. None of the languages commonly spoken in my new home uses the Latin alphabet so attempting to read and pronounce any letters/words in an unfamiliar writing system has been difficult.
Just don't be ignorant, you might think. Learn the language! For the record, I did. Well, I started to, but then the pandemic hit. My language class stopped and strict quarantines limited opportunities to practice. Two years and two babies later the world opened back up. Work and my tiny dictators, I mean, toddlers have kept me too busy to throw myself into learning the language with the gusto I once had. But over the years I've learned enough to get by with basic pleasantries: hello, goodbye, thank you, yes, no. Numbers 1-10. And how to order food at a restaurant. "How are you?" "Good." Unfortunately, that’s the limited extent of my conversational abilities.
The alphabet still trips me up and I often feel like a kindergartner slowly stringing syllables together and incorrectly sounding out words. Plus, there's the bonus of pronouncing the words but still not knowing they actually mean.
So I relate to Wylan a little bit in having to navigate the world at a disadvantage, one he cannot fully understand. Luckily for Wylan he can speak even though he can’t read, which gives him more coping strategies than are available to me. But you don’t realize just how much is written, especially in the modern world, until you are unable to read it.
Being an illiterate adult is a humbling experience. I cannot emphasize that enough. Book Wylan is a teenager, but was thrown into the “real world” and left to fend for himself as if he were an adult. Show Wylan is an illiterate adult who was also more or less thrown into the wild world. And I’d like to imagine that he shares similar illiterate adult encounters and experiences with me.
There isn’t a moment that I forget that I can’t read the language around me. However, it’s very easy to tune out the writing. To be blind to it and not see signs or labels because my brain stops looking for them, unable to to understand them.
Getting lost. Knowing the name of the place, a building, an address, the street that I'm searching for, but not being able to locate it by sight even though it is right there.
Walking past shops and stores unable to read their name and wondering what’s inside. What do they sell? What business do they hold? There’s no way of knowing unless I go inside myself.
Shopping and buying items based on the image on the packaging. Trying to figure out if there’s any difference between two items. Occasionally guessing wrong, buying the wrong thing.
Need instructions? Written directions (like for cooking)? Lol, Guess I'm going to wing it and hope for the best.
Being unable to read a written menu and ordering something generic because the restaurant probably serves it.
Putting off chores that require using the skill I don't have.
Having to act overly polite to everyone (regardless of how I feel) because I am the inconvenience when everyone else is just living their normal life.
Being treated like a child because, in my inability to read, I have the skills of a child so people will treat me the same way they would a child. And worse, all the while still having to act so polite about it because again, I am the inconvenience, even though I am being spoken down to like a child.
Accidentally, unintentionally being rude because I can't follow the sign's directions.
Pretending that I can read (or speak). Sometimes nodding along and agreeing with without any context is easier than a admitting I don't have a clue what's happening.
And in the modern day... I rely heavily on my cell phone to translate the way Wylan would use speech to text features. And there are times when there's no cell service, the phone or app stop working correctly. The translations/transcriptions are imperfect and confusing. It's scary when those safety nets stop working.
So yeah, being an illiterate adult is quite the experience. It can be exhausting. I am incredibly lucky that in my case it's due to living in a multicultural world and that given the time and patience, I could became literate and fluent in another language. The entire experience gives quite the insight on the hurdles and experiences Wylan might face.
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Midnights thoughts
Is it too soon? It is. Imma say it anyway? Yes.
This is the first time I honestly fear the album themes and narratives.
Like, I know we still don’t know anything but from the titles, the notes of explanation, the promo moves I see going on already… idk man.
It’s like.. i really hope “revenge” isn’t gonna be about petty revenge concerning scooter, Kanye idk WHOEVER.. lavander haze, which was the most suspicious and the one having more chances to be associated with inconvenient thems, was soon enough straight-bent into the oh-so-well known narrative that her love story is scrutinized by social media…like cry me a River it’s 2022, you’ve been in this relationship for like 6 yrs and 3 photos of you two exist, which by the way, have always conveniently surfaced at your benefit in strategic moments.. what are we even talking about?
The William Bowery stunt going over again. I mean, don’t we all know it’s Joe now? Are we five? Can’t you call him with his name and own it? I think if I saw a writing credit for Joe Alwyn and Taylor Swift I’d really be like “look at them thriving and owning it and keeping up with this hobby of writing together, that’s actually cute”! But not like this… it honestly makes me feel like it’s not genuine and authentic. I guess boldness is only to be later re-discovered when she’s gonna edit credits to give him a Grammy? Idk. Plus 2 Zoe kravitz writing credits and the photo op today? Homegirl these are the very things that get your rs scrutinized, not social media or “we live in a world where when you’re happy, outside world wants to take it away from you”.
Like I really mean no hate, I have been a fan since 15 yrs and I’ve literally grown up with her. I just wonder if she’s growing with us too. I really fear it’s gonna give tone-deaf and lack of ability to read the room or the context in a post pandemic world with like different type of crisis ensuing and an audience that’s likely gonna be more mature and probably cynical.
I hope I’m wrong though.
#taylor swift#kaylor#gaylor#gaylor swift#gaylorswift#scooter braun#William Bowery#taylor swift midnights#midnights#folklore taylor swift#karlie kloss#karlie#ts10
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Tagged by @britneyshakespeare nearly a month ago! Thank you, my dear, and apologies, as usual, for both the delay and the positively deranged length of my replies.
1. Are you named after anyone? Yes, I am! My namesake was my father’s granny, who raised him as a little boy while his parents finished medical school. The senior Helena lived to be 90 and I met her many times when I was a little girl. My other paternal great-grandmother never took it very well that she didn’t get a baby named after her, but I thank my lucky stars for that, because her name is… rather anachronistic and unflattering.
2. When was the last time you cried? I… don’t remember? It was definitely a long time ago. Not only have I been quite happy lately, but also one might say I’m rather stunted; by which I mean, whenever something upsets me, I’m more likely to be catatonic, or spend the night awake, than to cry about it. I don’t know what that says about me, but I’ve always been like this, lol
3. Do you have kids? Goodness, no! Sometimes I imagine I might when I’m a proper grown-up, but I am far too young for that now.
4. Do you use sarcasm a lot? I tend to modulate my speech according to my interlocutor, so I guess that depends on whom I’m talking to; I think I’m more likely to use deadpan, dry humor than sarcasm per se, though.
5. What sports do you play, or have played? Tennis, on doctor’s orders (this sounds like a ludicrously old-timey thing to say out of context, but when I was in my early teens my physician insisted I get some exercise, and tennis was the sport I hated the least; I am not athletic in the slightest and I still suck at it, but I do play it).
6. What’s the first thing you notice about people? I had to ponder this question for a while. I suppose I’m always inclined to look for something to like in anybody I ever meet; usually something that we have in common (it needn’t be something big; even a converging taste in shoes is enough for starting a conversation). This may be a bit narcissistic of me, but isn’t it easier to build a positive rapport with someone when you recognize something of yourself in them?
7. What’s your eye color? Dark brown, on the verge of black.
8. Scary movies or happy endings? When it comes to movies, I always prefer a comedy. That being said, I’ve been getting a taste for horror lately. I blame Rosemary’s Baby for pulling me into that rabbit hole.
9. Any special talents? I’m often told I can be very eloquent and persuasive, which is a useful skill to have as a law student. I also have a great affinity, and an above average facility, for learning languages (I am fluent in three, pretty decent at an additional two, and know a little bit of many others). Oh, and, not that anyone cares, but I’ve also got a good memory for literary quotes (this may be the worst party trick ever, but I can recite entire stanzas from Les Fleurs du Mal and Byron’s Don Juan)!
10. Where were you born? Rio de Janeiro, Brazil.
11. What are your hobbies? As I said, I enjoy learning languages (I’ve been teaching myself Russian and Yiddish since the pandemic; I can already form complete sentences and read simple texts, but I wouldn’t say I can actually speak them yet). I also read a lot of literature, some culture history and biographies and a bit of history, political economy, and philosophy. I like keeping up with current events, too (is “like” the right word for that? It may be more accurate to say that I feel obligated to do so). I watch some TV and movies, especially classics, and I’m always listening to music on my air pods when I’m out and on my headphones when I’m home (I own a record player, too, but that is for special occasions). Besides all that, I also really enjoy singing, but I only get instrumental accompaniment when I have guests over, or during choir practice (I wish I could play the guitar, or the piano, but I’ve always been too woefully uncoordinated for that).
12. Do you have any pets? Three rescue cats, the youngest of whom we rescued ourselves!
13. How tall are you? An embarrassing 1,6 meter (about 5’4’’ in Fahrenheit, or whatever the strange measurement unit it is you use in the USA), made worse by the fact I can’t stand to wear uncomfortable shoes that might make me taller.
14. Favorite subject in school? I attended Catholic school despite growing up in a very secular family (long story, lol) and I hated most of it. But my parents were mindful of making up for gaps in my and my sister’s education by enrolling us in several extracurriculars and getting us some private tutors, including a young English teacher I absolutely adored. She’s still one of my closest friends nowadays, even though she moved abroad almost five years ago.
15. Dream job? Heiress. Socialite. Queen consort. Patron of the arts.
Thanks again, Diana, I had a lot of fun with these! I’m tagging @fancycolours, @sneez, @bbbrianjones, @bilbao-song, @david-watts, @chaoticdesertdweller, and anyone else who wants to do this.
#life hack: you can procrastinate tedious chores by finishing tumblr tags that have been sitting in your drafts for ages#btw hi ned happy belated birthday ily#as usual everyone please feel free to ignore the tag if it looks like to much work to you lol#i made my answers WAY longer than they needed to be but alas synthesis is NOT one of my ‘special talents’#tag game
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A rant for freelance writers
My fellow writers, you are being grossly underpaid. I’ve been freelance writing intermittently for over a decade, and during that time the rate for freelance writing has dropped. Yes, you read that correctly. Dropped.
I’ve returned to freelance writing during the pandemic because I need the schedule flexibility and work from home perks (thank you, health issues). I was offered a role that paid $10 per article. Yes. $10. I have over a decade of experience and have worked with some pretty big company names, and yet I was offered the same rate I was given as a new college grad with literally no experience a decade ago - and that was considered painfully low back then. In 2013 I made $10/article, but by 2014 I was making $50-$75/article. By 2015 I was averaging $100 per assignment.
Needless to say, I declined the $10 role.
Content farming websites like Comic Book Resources, ScreenRant - basically every publication under Valnet, amongst others - are taking advantage of you. Here are the rates I was told for an entertainment writer role at CBR. Again. I’ve been doing this for over 10 years and have a Master’s degree.
“The compensation rates for this position are based on a combination of rates for pay-per-post (PPP) and pay-per-view (PPV). PPV rates are applied after every 1,000 views.
News: $10 ($10 PPP) + $0.33 per 1k views
Flash News: $5 ($5 PPP) + $0.25 per 1k views”
When pressed for the average views per article, I was told anywhere between 2,000 to 200,000. Which means you can be earning as little as $10.66 per article, while $76/per is the top end. I made $75/article in 2014 with just over a year of experience. The math ain’t mathing.
This issue isn’t exclusive to Valnet, either. Time and time again I’m seeing roles for writers listed at minimum wage. Some of the higher paying ones are still only offering $25 an hour regardless of experience level. Yet they receive hundreds, if not thousands of applicants.
We can argue that this is just another symptom of wage stagnation, inflation, the recession we’re in that may or may not be manufactured. But, I worry that the rise of AI has led to the devaluation of the writer, much as it threatens the digital artist. Why pay actual humans what an AI will do for free? Just plug in the topic and some old articles and watch as your content is repurposed into something fresh. No one will be able to tell.
In the age of AI everything, the economy has come to undervalue good writers. Our creativity. Our humanity.
I do not have a solution here, except to suggest that folks fucking stop working for Valnet because they’re exploitative. Even then, I don’t hold it against you if you do work for them. As I sit here filling out applications for roles that pay far less than my ending wage at my last position, I’m forced to swallow my pride simply because times are tough. Jobs are harder to come by, even though ‘everyone is hiring’. The longterm effects of COVID are real, and limiting.
I have no solution, but I want you all to know that you deserve better. Your time and expertise have value. Writing is hard.
You deserve fair compensation.
#freelance writer#writer#writing#journalism#entertainment writer#blogger#valnet#screenrant#comic book resources#collider#movieweb#gamerant
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Analyst(hopeful) asked:
World building questions time mostly as an excuse for me to work on my own stuff. sorry for this submit you’re currently my temporary accountability partner. this does not mean you have to respond or put effort in it just means that I have to write something. Even if its only a little bit. Intent is to copy the headcanons into my story world building file although altered to an extent. Need to write the headcanons down before I lose them.
So what does the geography for the Antarctic empire look like? ie which map of the Antarctic do you chose to use? i like this one just because I think it is cool looking (this is not a request for you to use in bloodboon just sharing my thoughts.) https://scitechdaily.com/high-precision-map-shows-what-the-land-looks-like-under-antarcticas-ice-sheet/ There are some older more inaccurate scans of the land beneath that look cool too. (watch out that google search is a rabbit hole)
Compliment: don’t think I haven’t noticed on how some important things are in Technoblade’s perspective more recently. good job. It feels like your switching gears in the story. It makes it more difficult to see what Philza is thinking.
Questions:
How long ago did the Nether have multiple kings before they dueled each other to death? From the sounds of it there was a war in Mightyedge’s time considering he took a total of 3 bloodboons.
Why are avian’s so few?
personal headcanons of Bloodboon:
1. Avains are so few because of a plague (which unfortunately they were the primary spreaders of before they caught on) a lot easier to be a vector when you can fly. And then after that plenty of avians died because governments blamed them for the spread of the plague. (only partly true plenty of people were responsible its just hard to have proper pandemic measures in place when the world can’t get along)
2. The Nether kingdom raids according to and follows the Overworld seasons. They also prefer to raid warm areas it was a famine in warmer Overworld areas that drove Technoblade to chose to raid the Empire. He wasn’t going to drive more people to death because of his raids.
3. joke headcanon avians have carbon fiber bones.
Joke scene in my head. After everything is over and Philza just strongarms his council into not executing Technoblade and then strong arms hypixel (which is an Antarctic empire land but only sort of like Puerto Rico to the US) into giving him land. what follows is A. the potato war and B. a realization from Technoblade
T: interrupts a Antarctic empire council meeting. “Did you get me land in Hypixel to disrupt the potato monopoly that you couldn’t interfere with because Hypixel isn’t actually the Empire?
P: only mildly irritated at the interruption. He thinks its funny.
“Yes. What of it?"
T: "Phil! My sanity!"
And lastly. Its been a while life treating you two okay?
~~~
Wow, that sure is a lot! Glad you’re so interested in our works, but also don’t be afraid to make your own content for whatever spin off you may or may not write ^-^
The Antarctic Empire is based off of SMP Earth, although neither me nor Anchestor were involved with mcyt at the time. As it isn’t really a setting except for a short amount of time, we’ve put little thought and no research into it. Things that are said about the overworld (and by extension the empire) are pulled from either vanilla minecraft or irl logic. It’s a bundle of references and a plot devise more than anything else.
–Pink
The only thing pinned down from the Antarctic empire for Bloodboon is that the capital is a port city. That map looks cool though!
About that POV thing, my general system is to write from the perspective of the one who knows the least about what’s going on. It’s more interesting to have Techno going “Why is Philza grumpy? Is it something I did? What can I do about it?” instead of Philza going “I’m molting and mad about it and Techno doesn’t Get It grrr”. Techno himself isn’t a dangerous mystery anymore like he was in the beginning of the story, so its a lower bar to hop into his head.
I think the piglins coming together under just one king was a process spanning centuries, kinda like how the Roman Empire expanded and collapsed over time. But yes, bloodboons are specifically subjugated enemy rulers. Bonus, with how dishonourable piglins see surrendering as bloodboons is, Mightyedge having as many as three means he killed a lot of people who wouldn’t be subjugated. Ashthorn was also very keen on war, meaning there was someone to fight with.
Avians being rare. I don’t think it was one big thing that wiped most of them out, as much as just a series of small things. The wings make childbirth dangerous, hollow bones are prone to injury, injury leads to infections and death. More importantly, as shown with Wilbur, it's a recessive gene. I imagine avians used to live in small, remote communities, maybe on mountains and such, but as the world expanded, they began to mingle with non-avians, resulting in non-avian babies. A remote community coming in contact with the world at large would also expose them to fun new diseases to which they’d have not developed immunity. It’s a death of a thousand cuts.
Disrupting a foreign potato monopoly by weaponising Techno’s obsessive tendencies is 100% something Philza would do.
Life is decent, I’m gonna be on vacation soon, that’s dope. I wrote a chapter, then we agreed that it’d be better if A Thing happened before that chapter, so another chapter needed to be written before that one could be published. And then I played Tears of the Kingdom for a few weeks ^^ But! Next chapter is gonna come out this week I think, it's in the last bits of editing. Lads are going on a road trip~
-Anchestor
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Between love songs and internet cruelties
A prequel to "between shards and "I love you"s
A/n: This work is part of the "be my valentine challenge" by @bemyvalentinechallenge for the day 11 prompt.
Summary: Eris, Niall’s girlfriend, starts struggling with all the hate she gets from Niall's fans and when he finds out, he has a good strategy to cheer her up…
Warnings: mental health, cyber bullying
I heard Niall unlocking the door and quickly tried hiding my tears from him.
Because we are currently in a world wide pandemic and I worked as an elementary school teacher when I wasn´t singing, I was always home, day and night, every day of the week.
Which, obviously also caused lots of boredom from time to time.
And was there any better thing than reading mean comments about myself and crying?
Niall’s and mine relationship had become official just one week after we met. And the media immediately drew all their attention to us.
Two singers as a couple? That’s something new for them.
And then, there were the fans.
Of course not all of them were mean, but there just simply were some of them, who liked saying that I don’t deserve Niall and his love, that I'm not good enough for him.
Under a video of my performance at the iHeart Jingle Ball last December, I stumbled upon some newer comments, talking about me.
That I was fat, not worthy of love, ugly, too clumsy, weird, dressed too casual…
These comments hurt. They really did.
But if I'd tell Niall about this, he'd anyways just defend his own fans (that’s at least what I'd do if someone said something bad about mine) and wouldn’t believe me. It isn’t his fault anyways.
It probably is my fault because I started dating him in the first place. That´s also what makes living together with him for quarantine so hard, I get constant reminders that I don´t even deserve him, but am still around him for most of my time and have to play it off like everything is amazing.
"Hey baby!" Niall said, taking his bag off his shoulder and placing it on the kitchen counter. "I bought your favorite sweets for tonight! Did you decide for a movie yet? Please don´t let me go through the torture of another enemies-to-lovers story." he said, laughing to himself and still not looking at me. He´s focused on packing the food out of the bag.
Then I saw Chocolat chip cookies in his hands.
They don´t taste as good in the UK as they do back in the US, but it´s better than nothing to make me feel closer to home.
That´s exactly what I needed now, somehow Niall always knew it.
He turned to me and his face changed from happy to serious really quickly.
Great, you could still see that I had been crying. Why did I always cry so ugly anyways?
"Are you okay?" He said, sitting down on the chair next to me. I knew he wouldn´t accept a ´yes´, but I tried anyways.
"Don´t lie to me, I can pratically still see the tears on your cheeks." Niall never failed to make me laugh. "So, what´s going on? Did something happen, did I maybe do something wrong?" He gently touched my arm and stroked over it, to make me feel more comfortable, which actually somehow worked.
Without saying a word, I handed him my phone, where the comments were still visible. It was quite funny to watch to see Niall´s face turn more and more confused and shocked at the same time. He couldn´t believe it.
"First off, why are you reading this?" He asked, still staring at the comments in complete disbelief.
"I don´t know. I just came across it" I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from starting to cry again. "And I know, that I´m not the perfect girl for the fans… I don´t even know why this upsets me so bad." I tried explaining my sensitivity to Niall.
For a few seconds, I wondered, if he even heard me because he was still focused on the phone, but then he said something. "But you´re perfect to me. The fans can´t decide who I date or who I love. You are perfect for me Eris!"
A small smile appeared on my lips. Before I met Niall, I never knew how great words of affection could feel, but Niall was the inofficial king in making me feel better, just through words.
I understood why so many people find comfort in his music, it was truly amazing to listen to it.
"I´m definitely post about this on Instagram, they have to stop." Niall called out and then stood up, probably to get his own phone.
Just minutes later, you could find a new post on Niall´s official instagram, addressing the cyber mobbing against his girlfriend. He knew, not all of the fans were doing this, but the ones who were doing it, should stop. It´s wrong to hurt people like that and he actually thought it was something everyone knew by now.
I loved this man so much, he would never be able to know.
"Let me show you something." he then said, after posting the new text and stood up to grab his guitar from the sofa.
You never love yourself half as much as I love you
You never treat yourself right darling, but I want you to
If I let you know, I´m here for you
Maybe you´ll love yourself like I love you.
I immediately knew which song he was singing there, and quickly added the "You sing". The fans would´ve been proud of me.
I had little tears in my eyes and as soon as Niall was finished with singing, he gently wiped them away with his hand.
Yeah, the fans could say whatever they want, he was my man.
#bemyvalentine2024#bemyvalentineno11#quote#reader x niall horan#orginial character#tw bullying#tw insecurity#tw mental health#maddys fanfic#maddys writing
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Station 19 5x18
- That finale was not as suspenseful as I was expecting it to be - considering they knew that they have a season 6, I thought we’d get a big cliffhanger.
- I enjoyed the green card interview scenes. Of course Carina says too much about the night they first met and Maya keeps interupting - the bickering was cute and finally they felt more in character.
- Also, can I gloat for a minute that when I wrote the first chapter of Serendipity, I made the choice that they didn’t sleep together that night? Ha! (And at least I don’t have to worry that my story isn’t 100% accurate.)
- “We got married during the pandemic and yes my visa was expiring, but at the time we had been dating for a couple of years” ...um, WHAT?! There’s tweaking history and COMPLETELY RE-WRITING IT! 🤦🏼♀️🤦🏼♀️ (Or was she lying…???)
- One part that annoyed me: of all the questions for Maya to laugh at, I don’t think human trafficking was the right one considering how/why Andrew was murdered, but hey. 🤷🏼♀️
- The call out to the bus was decent, but you’d think Hazmat would have a quicker response time than 15 minutes.
- I rolled my eyes when Carina said that Jack could be there when she took the pregnancy test. “I don’t need to be part of everything” - no, Jack, you don’t and I’m glad someone finally said it! 👏🏻
- Is Jack gone? Does that mean we get some peace next season? (After Carina gets over her distress at him not being around, obviously.) Jack leaving means there’s a spot for Andy at 19, so what happens if he comes back? As much as I haven’t liked his role in the baby-making story, I’ve been interested in his (own) family arc and it doesn’t feel like he got a proper resolution to his story. Where is he going? What’s he going to do next? Will he get to know his biological family? I have so many questions!
- Are they stepping back from the baby storyline a little? Jack gone, no pregnancy test, a chance for something to change... do we get our hopes up that there are conversations happening behind the scenes about how to tell this story in season 6 or am I a clown? 🤡
- So Travis is going to run for mayor, can he do that at the same time as working as a firefighter? Tbh, I’m not looking forward to this being an add-on to the show next season. Give me fires and scary rescues, please! 🔥
- Maya threatening Chief Ross to get her job back feels like a bold move, not necessarily a good one, but then what choice does she have? Playing by the rules - which is fundamentally who she is - hasn’t got her anywhere, so it’s interesting to see this side of her and I’m curious about what that means for her next season.
- I’m glad they wrapped up Andy’s storyline and there’s no drawn out trial.
- Enjoy the hiatus, folks! 🥂
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sarah's non-comprehensive Shortbox Comics Fair rec list
hi hello have you heard about the Shortbox Comics Fair? It's an annual digital comics fair that runs through the month of October and showcases over 100+ amazing shortform digital comics from a whole host of supremely talented comic artists which means it's about to end in like A DAY. Pls go check it out if you haven't, this tableau is seriously kickass and it's fun and good to support rad indie artists!!!!
anyway to show my appreciation for these amazing stories i wanted to pull together a quick rec list of some of my favorites of the ones i've picked up, although i just want to say i honestly and wholeheartedly loved every single story i picked up and also dearly wish i had the budget to pick up more! i truly believe this fair has something for everyone but hopefully this list can serve as something of a starting point [mind the content warnings]:
Adversary by Blue Delliquanti - Minneapolis, 2021. Curtis is newly out, single, and ready to take his life in a different direction. Anton is a mysterious young man who recognizes Curtis from their pre-pandemic lives and reacquaints himself in a way Curtis isn’t entirely prepared for.
Hoo baby this is an intense one but so incredibly worth it. The visual storytelling through the coloring and the shading is chef's kiss, the characters so fully realized in such a short space, the story so darkly compelling and yet with an current of hope under the simmering rage and hurt that's practically leaping off the page with every incisive line of dialogue. definitely one of those stories you need to sit with for a bit after you finish it. [i also highly recommend the completed webcomic O Human Star and the YA graphic novel Across a Field of Starlight by this author, they're one of my faves!!]
Between Sand and Sea by C.A.P Ward - A call to the sea, a call to the shore, a call home. When their family leaves the coast, a youth struggles with life away from the only home they know. Their longing calls the sea inland until a choice must be made, tide the changes this brings, or chart an uncertain path to find what it means to come home.
god what a gorgeous coming of age story from start to finish - beautiful art, beautiful writing, beautiful characters, a beautiful resolution, just everything about this!! i love the mythic quality of the storytelling and i love the quiet yearning for home and belonging and meaning that suffuses the whole narrative. and you know a bitch is weak for sea metaphors of birth and belonging!
Chamber by Chamber by Ryugere - An executioner grapples with the guilt of killing an old friend as they take care of an abandoned child.
Yes all the characters in this comic are snails. No none of them have faces or facial expressions. Yes it completely fucked me up regardless. Highly recommend for the subtle but gutwrenching world-building, the expressiveness of the characters [turns out you don't need faces to accomplish this to devastating effect jesus], and the complexity of morality the main character grapples with throughout the story.
Cynosure by Jessica Peng - If two women were trapped on a spaceship and one was a malfunctioning AI and the other is trying to kill the former with a hatchet would that be fucked up or what?
oh you know this is exactly my type of shit. it's the doomed narrative and the homoeroticism of antagonism and the two lonely people reaching for each other despite everything of it it all! i LOVE the way the story of this relationship unfolds through the story through the alternating povs, each chapter somehow throwing everything that came before it into a new and startling light.
Hourglass by Barbara Mazzi - The Hourglass is called many things: the perfect machine, the source of all life, the fountain of youth. It promises immortal comfort to the privileged, but it also looms over its creators, making them slaves to its tics and gears. Martel knows that there are other simple, inexplicable things that give life meaning, way more valuable than eternity. A system built on rejecting such principles is beyond fragile - it is a ticking time bomb.
The richness of the world-building in this story, my goodness. it really ticks all my boxes: impeccable steampunk vibes, searing social commentary and portrayal of structural inequality through fantasy allegory, endlessly charming characters from two vastly disparate worlds forming a fragile but profound connection. And that ending! What a read!
I Am Of Two Hearts by Val Wise - Emissary Thresa will be executed on return to his King. Before his death, he visits the temple of his birth
I don't want to spoil anything but this one. it really hit me somewhere tender and aching. Thresa is a thoroughly captivating protagonist and following his emotional journey through this comic honestly left me breathless. i'm going to be thinking about this one for a long while.
#sarah.txt#webcomics#comic recs#shortbox comic fair#looking at the summaries of these comics i have compiled like man have u ever been more on ur bullshit sarah lol#i promise tho there are so many different kinds of good comics here!!#horror comics and experimental comics and slice of life comics and sweet romcom comics and it's all so so good! check it out if you can!!!!
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Two thoughts about Persuasion (2022)
With the caveat that I haven’t seen it.
Thought one is just a quote from the end of this essay in the Washington Post:
After two years of the pandemic, perhaps “Persuasion” fans are not feeling playful. We’re feeling sad and grief-stricken, and tired and taken for granted, clear-eyed about what we’ve lost and the stakes of the time we have left. And we want to see our own melancholy reflected back to us.We know what Anne Elliot has been through. Because we’ve been through it, too.
Thought two is inspired by the two images going around of Anne saying she’s going to listen to Beethoven with a bottle of red...
They’ve got Anne’s age wrong. Not from a purely numbers standpoint, but from a cultural standpoint. Being 27 in 1816 was not the same as being 28 in 2022. I don’t mean from a life expectancy angle* but more from a social expectations range. In terms of marriage, professional life, etc.
For a concrete example: in the 1980s and 1990s you could walk into any party store and there’d be stuff in the birthday section with tombstones and canes for “over the hill.” Which was 40. I haven’t seen that in ages.
I would say, somewhat anecdotally, that an unmarried woman of 27 in the period when Austen was writing would be more like a woman in her mid 30s today. She looks like she has her life together and has made career choices, but maybe she has doubts and regrets. Neither she nor her social circle are regularly staying out until 1 or 2am partying. She’s realizing she needs to actually start planning for retirement - in fact, maybe she’s a little late!
Which is why the Anne of this new film, at least as she appears in the trailers and screencaps, doesn’t work for the story. This is supposed to be someone who thinks “Shit, I missed my chance to do the thing. I was going to be a novelist and now I’m a paralegal.” And then the universe pulls out the “Oprah started her career in her forties!” meme.
----
*Look, historical life expectancy isn’t “they all died in their 40s,” although yes the average for women is lower because of the dangers of pregnancy and childbirth. But you still get people of all genders living into their 70s, 80s - even in excess of a hundred years.
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I am so tired for Louis. Look at all the articles because he made a flippant comment about Up All Night (which really is my least favourite 1D album, I like a couple of songs from it but I think the other albums were better overall) and also, Louis - and the other boys too, they have also said things that pointed at this - clearly didn’t completely love the direction of early 1D, hence why he fought for the boys to have more of a say, for them to write more and have more to do with the music side of things. Which they did. All these articles about that comment, yet none of them wrote about a world-record livestream with proceeds donated to charities and his crew, the Away From Home Festival from last year, the fact that the Away From Home Festival 2022 sold out in a few days, nothing really about Walls reaching #1 on iTunes a second time (which I think is actually pretty impressive), a successful solo world tour. And people outside of Louis’ fans think this is normal? It’s not. Niall had more articles about his livestream and he sold less tickets than Louis. I don’t want to compare the boys but doing so just tells you how rotten things are for Louis. I’m just sick of this entire thing and people are using those new articles to drag Louis again - and the comment happened over a week ago! The timing just seems off, but then they always do with negative press about Louis and actions against Louis. It gets disheartening. I also admire him so much for being able to keep moving forward and keep trying, because he knows what has been done to him and he still keeps going when it would be easy to give up and just completely lose faith. How do you deal with the anger towards and the disappointment in the industry which has not been kind to Louis in many ways, if it’s something you feel you can answer?
Yeah, I saw the negative articles and negative comments on ssome of them. Thankfully, despite those articles, it doesn’t seem to have gotten too much attention - not anything like what happened with Liam a couple of months ago. I also think while the general public is hating on him, fans overall agree with him and understand why he would say that. Billboard tried to post about it and fans just bombarded the quote RTs and replies saying he spilled. 😭
I’m not sure if it was a targeted effort or just the media acting like the media, but this yet again makes it very clear that Simon Jones does NOTHING for Louis to help him in the UK press and the rest of his team does nothing to help him elsewhere in the world. He has nobody trying to get him good press and nobody trying to lessen the impact of negative press. Like you mentioned with the livestream and the upcoming AFH Festival, there isn’t even a bare minimum of normal press coverage of those things, but any flippant comment that can be twisted to make Louis look bad, they’re on it. It’s ridiculous and not anything you see with any other artist at Louis’ level.
To criticize Louis slightly for a minute though (and his team again too) - I do think that he needs to go through a fresh round of media training. I don’t want him to be a robot in interviews, but I think it’s clear that after so much time away from having to do them (first with 1D ending, then with the long break from him releasing music after Miss You, then with the pandemic), he seems to struggle with them a bit. He seems very nervous and uncomfortable in many of them, and I actually think that contributes to him repeating the same phrases over and over (”do you know what I mean?” and “to be fair” are said like 10x per interview if not more). He swears even when it’s not appropriate - for example, on U.S. radio and TV shows where it’s not allowed. I have no issue with swearing, I do it all the time, but obviously there is a time and place. And comments like the UAN one - while yes, the media will absolutely always find something to criticize, I do think there are certain things that Louis says sometimes where it’s pretty obvious that it will be used to make him look bad and I think some fresh media training would help prevent him from saying those things or help him to say them in a better way where it’s less likely that it would be twisted.
A strong team that wanted the best for him would help Louis with these things so he would feel more comfortable in interviews AND better portray himself to the general public so he could gain a larger fanbase. Louis is so intelligent and kind and big-hearted and his interviews (and the subsequent press coverage, when it actually happens) rarely reflect that. It’s so frustrating.
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Please, please, please take your mental health/your loved ones’ mental health seriously. It’s just as important as one’s physical health. We all know the direction this post is going so…yeah.
1. An almost 24 year old (yes, I will continue to mention his age because he is still a baby) cancelled his world tour today because of his mental health. I don’t know what he’s dealing with mentally, but it’s obviously something. I know he has anxiety/an anxiety disorder, and that can be brutal to deal with. I deal with this 💩 on a daily basis and I’m not a celebrity.
2. We (as the general public) are only seeing what Shawn wants us to see-and that’s him appearing happy and ok. He most definitely is not. If he was, he wouldn’t have cancelled a world tour. Like him, I can look fine but I am mentally fragile and can have a breakdown at any moment 🙃
3. I don’t have a clue what his comfort level is being near/around so many people after the pandemic. His anxiety may rise knowing there’s a real chance of him catching COVID from one of his shows. As a singer, him getting COVID wouldn’t be good. He can’t afford damaging any respiratory organs.
4. People have been giving Shawn 💩 for being in Costa Rica and recently California. Apparently if you’re working on your mental health and taking time for yourself, you shouldn’t be going places 🙄 Uhm? No. He SHOULD be doing this. He needs to be around friends/family/a support system at a time like this. Staying holed up isn’t going to help. Traipsing around the world being away from his loved ones definitely isn’t going to help him heal. Let Shawn heal in his own way ✌🏻
5. Being a celebrity doesn’t mean he can’t have mental health issues. He’s human. He’s young. He’s almost 24. He’s essentially been touring since he was 15. Let the guy have some “him” time that didn’t include being quarantined/self-isolated for over two years. He finished a world tour in late 2019. Then the pandemic started. He spent the majority of that time in quarantine and away from family and friends. Now everyone just expected the guy to embark on a world tour and spend even MORE time away from everyone? Ya, he has a lot going on mentally now.
6. Yes, fans are going to be mad/disappointed/upset. But Shawn’s mental health is number one. It takes priority over his world tour. It’s not fair for him to sacrifice his mental well being to satisfy the needs of his fans. I‘d rather he takes off as much time as he needs to heal and be mentally stable than to continue his tour and burn out and have another mental breakdown or worse.
7. Don’t say he’s being a wuss and that he needs to “be strong.” Him cancelling the tour is strength, whether you think it or not. He didn’t make this decision lightly. Just because he’s a male doesn’t mean he can’t have mental health issues/anxiety.
I’m super happy he has made this decision. I can’t say I didn’t see it coming. He went on tour too early after the pandemic and I’m glad he’s realized that. He needs to put himself and his needs first. The stigma surrounding mental health NEEDS to be broken and even more when it involves males. They’re just as sensitive (and Shawn is a sensitive dude) and fragile as females and they need to have their mental health taken just as seriously. NOTHING will change my opinion on this and I will continue to stand with Shawn because I know what he’s going through. I have been in his position just on a smaller scale. I’ve had to increase the dosage of my medication so I can properly function. I still get major anxiety being in/near/around large groups of people and ironically the last large event I attended was a Shawn Mendes concert. It would have been his third last show of the tour.
I hope all the best for Shawn and I just want him happy and healthy ❤️
#my post#long post#shawn mendes#mental health#pretty much a compilation of my previous posts#take care of your mental health#this is a hill i will die on
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Hey guys! As promised, here is a holiday drawing! However, there will be more to come! As I continue to answer some of the asks I’ve already have in my ask box, you’ll see where I’m getting at. However, even if the holidays are over… there is something else approaching…. The New Year! It’s weird how time goes by so fast….. this year has been a rough ride.
!TRIGGER WARNING!
!TRIGGER WARNING!
I will like to say now I will be explaining some triggering stuff that involve self harm/ or death. If your not into reading that, than please don’t read the following words and read the third paragraph instead. For those who are okay with that kind of stuff, Then yes… this year did take a beating on me. Through this whole pandemic, I had to give up 2 years of what would have been my high school experience. I’m not saying I’m the only person who had to go through the same things I did, I’m sure there are others who can relate or probably had to sacrifice more than me. But yes, for those 2 years of being away from my friends and hardly getting any physical contact from others that are not in my household, it took a toll on my mentality. I will not get into too much details for the sake of not wanting to bring out old wounds, but I did try to harm myself. I was at my deepest levels of struggling to graduate as well as keeping a happy face so others couldn’t see I was practically falling apart. I wasn’t only emotionally drained, but I was restless, I would sacrifice hours of sleep just to do school work. To give you the idea of what kind of hell I put myself through, here is a rough summary. There are 24 hours a day, Get up at 5am, work until 12pm, take a 30 minute break, work until 12am, sleep, repeat. Sometimes I would get up at 3am instead of 5am if I failed to do some stuff I was already behind on… and clearly… you can see that isn’t really healthy. When barely functioning on a few hours of sleep, as well as running on any energy drink I could get my hands on, it was making me tip on my breaking point to lead me down that dark path….. It was one of the darkest points of my life…. However… I overcame those inner demons…. I made the choice of getting help. As much as it really wasn’t help, it really did break me away from that dark area I was in. I even experienced some personal lost as well, family, family friends, even strangers that I know from their content. It was truly a wild fire…. There are more stuff I wish I could say but I rather leave that be….
! Trigger warning over !
! Trigger warning over !
After all of that, here I am now, a college student. A college student that is focusing on building their future, as well has getting adjusted to family roles. Even when there is death, there is life. I’ve gained 2 new family members, which I now will have to see to it that I give them the support that they need in the near future that they’ll need whenever they need me. Not only am I going to support these new bundles of life, but as well to those who I’m already familiar with. My friends, my little sibling, and to YOU. Yes you…. Yes the one that’s reading this…. I’m talking to you. I may not know who you are, but if there is something bothering you, don’t be afraid to reach out to me. If you need someone to hear your rant, I’m more than happy to lend you my ear. As much as I wish I was given the support I needed when growing up, even now, I’m more than happy to give someone else that support that I needed when I tried looking for it. If there is anything that I can take away from this year, is don’t be afraid to ask for help.
Asking for help doesn’t mean your weak, We’re all human. We all breathe the same air, we all bleed, we all walk on the same earth, we’re human. We grow and learn, so don’t ever feel ashamed when asking for help. Asking for help is the most human thing that you could ever do. If it does make you feel weak or your hesitate on doing so, just do it. it doesn’t hurt to try.
As I’ve said before, this year has been a wild ride, and hopefully next year won’t be so different. Next year, hopefully, I’ll be in university, maybe get a tattoo or a new piercing, meet someone, go on a trip, who knows what the year has in store for me. Who knows what this new year has in store for you…. As we say goodbye to this year, I want you think about everything that’s happened to you this year and embrace this new year approaching us. Say goodbye to your last years self and welcome the new year you… if that makes any sense lol. I know I’m still going to be running this blog, I still have so much I want to show you all. Hopefully I’ll get better at drawing too lol. I can’t wait to see what this new year could bring, hopefully I’ll even get to know one of you out there as we begin our new journey. As for now, I hope you know you are loved, and that you make me so proud. Love one another, treat everyone equally, spread the love, drink some water, and get some rest, and I’ll see you all on the flip side!
#asktheforgottenpony#theforgottenpony#doctor whooves#ask#mlp oc pony#asks open#mlp ask oc#ask me stuff#mysterypony#ask away#mlp ask blog#mlp oc#mlp ocs#ask blog#doctorwhooves#mlp oc ask blog#mlp#the master#triggering stuff#personal rant#just ranting#new year
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[Naughty, twisted] Because some thoughts occurred to me.
So, here’s the Yahoo! slash Buzzfeed article that half-inspired some things from me today. The article itself is SFW enough, so here you go:
https://www.yahoo.com/lifestyle/people-sharing-2022-fashion-trends-051602107.html
And well, I do have some few thoughts about this, but they aren’t most people’s cup of milk, tea, coffee, energy drink, microwaved chocolate cake OR fruit salad, so yeah, maybe skip the bit below the break if you don’t wanna know how strange I can get. :)
Now, let’s talk turkey. I’m an occasional weirdo. Occasionally perverted, and mostly harmless. My current health and lack of resources literally don’t let me DO things, even on the internet, as I once did. Even if Tumblr or its cliques would let me fly my freak flag? I really can’t follow through much on the material I have left from my old Mad Scientist days. I can’t do much ASFR or “science experiments” on willing women (mainly with hypnosis) anymore. My own health and conscience keep me from going over the edge to get an edge (as some unethical hypno-kink people do online), and if I don’t do that, too many women just see me as too old and pathetic to be bothered with.
So keep that context in mind. :) Keep that context in mind: I can’t act on the shit I’m about to say, in the slightest.
Now, let’s consider this first thing people want to be rid of next year: obsessive, “overdone” makeup:
I hope you’ll pardon the awkward screen capture. :) The article mentions how the overuse of foundation to wipe out facial features and bury them under new layers of highlighting and brightening really “has to go.” To which I have to say: But what about the women (and wlw types) who identify as “glitches from The Sims?” Never mind the “think of the TikToks” counterpoint, truth is some women (born that way or living it) actually do look better with that half-plastic wannabe mannequin look. Add some sealer to it so that nothing gets it off for 12-24 hours and you’ve got somebody’s new obsession. They’re stuck, with a really plastic/artificial face. :) I mean if the hair’s that fake, why not?
Now this one was put under “corsets” even though the image below shows a thing that is BARELY a long-line bra? Yeah, and people say feminism isn’t an influence. =)) I’m teasing, sorry.
My point is that no, I’m not expecting women to go right back to “hard clothes” post-pandemic. Most of the time that won’t happen. But you’re telling me NOBODY has a “special occasion” outfit that rather demands that their tummy get snatched, and/or that their breasts get lifted and managed? Please. Some women are always going to have THAT outfit. The one that makes sitting down interesting. The one that is that snug, on purpose, because they want to feel it, on purpose. She wants to feel dolled up even if she never puts it that way.
And then there’s this thing. It might, itself, “go away” just from hygiene or itch concerns, I’ll give you that. But trust me, the next thing is coming up that’s going to make a lady of whatever sort’s body parts feel . . .out there? Objectified? Something like that.
So yeah, maybe not this specific thing. Maybe not the thong-butt so much, but something will replace this. Maybe shiny legs will come back. Maybe some dark force will corrupt the Jog-Bra. Trust me, there will always be something to make women at the gym look toyetic, whether that’s their intent or not. Yes, some people obsess over The Step Aerobics Doll as a fetish. Oddly enough I outgrew that. It’s not really easy for me to go to the gym for its proper purpose while also being a freak. I can’t multitask that and I’ve never been able to. (*shrugs*)
Then there’s this thing. And I’ll just admit it right here: IF this weren’t so flagrantly a Kardashian Thing (tm), I would personally dig the look. On other women, who aren’t Kardashians. I know, it’s ironic. I’m INTO women like toys, really, but there’s a LOT of something about how the 3K Crowd does “self dollified”, particularly if you go back to the old “baby voice” material of theirs, that’s just off. Some current Kardashian material and a LOT of the older stuff just comes off as manipulative. As if the thought process was “all men will lose it when they see us DO THIS, am I right??” It reminds me of a phase my sisters (well the older one mainly but also my next, younger one) went through, where they were all about puppeteering the guys.
So, yes, this is a LOT. =)) The boots part of the outfit has to blend in with the rest of the bodysuit seamlessly and still be so tight that the woman/wlw wearing the suit gets Legit Mattel Toy Hips up front, or close to it. The waist is snatched and everything else is tight enough that if it weren’t for the texture on the suit, you’d likely see ribs, collarbones, and the like.
And yet part of my brain (somewhere in the limbic system down south of conscious thought, but it counts) looks at this and is like, “Yup, this is casual wear for a controlled woman on her way to Being a Barbie.” Everything is there: the smaller waist, the shoes that don’t come off, meaning eventually the lady gets stuck on tiptoes (as dolls do), perfect breast control and objectification, perfect posture, and all you need really is for the hair, makeup and circle lenses to get done so that the lady/doll matches all the other ladies/dolls.
This will NEVER be anything resembling mainstream fashion, I get that. I mean, you can’t look at someone dressed like that without thinking either a) a Kardashian, again? or b) wow, she really wants to be a toy-toy, doesn’t she? So absent any proof of “mhmmm Fank Yew.” you can’t see the lady here as anything but a doll. It doesn’t parse. She’s both extremely artificial and as doll-naked as it gets (keeping in mind how blank dolls are supposed to be). And yet she moves and is sort of life-like. :D
But yeah. This ought to clue you in: with the right obsessive swoony thing, anyone can turn anything into a turn-on. It’s not even an issue. You can sanitize as much as you want, but the imagination of a human adult is what it is. You’d have to turn it all into a dictatorship of the Arab Peninsula to BEGIN to stifle that. And yes, women do it too--why not, they’re human beings too.
(which means I may have spent some time trying to get some hormonal poison out of my body today. No big deal, right? I know what I need to do--or the barest minimum of it, including post-hypnotic triggers unique to me, that are as old as the hills and placebos more than anything. I know what I need to do to simulate what I can’t actually get. No big deal . . .)
(except for some reason, I didn’t actually GET THERE. I blame a piece of Tumblr for that, you know who you are, and it’s absurd. No really, if you’re going to empathize enough with your “doll fantasy material” of choice that you’d briefly might consider joining her? The least you could get from risking a dollified state “with her” is a proper climax, right? Nope. Apparently I’ve a) been through too much stress lately, and b) didn’t consider how weird the whole Kardashian thing really is)
(but yeah, one thing I did learn was that not getting there, in a half-altered state of mind? Is a quick way to get stuck, a little? :) Of course I have ways out of that--it is not safe in the slightest for me to openly be a freak in my apartment building--but for liek 3 minutes? Liek OMGzz. *giggle* But yeah. Snapped out of that. Snapped out of it with prejudice. Because my building ain’t it. Not happening here. No thank you)
(And in general, as long as we’re at risk of Tumblr getting all weirded out on me? I’ve mentioned this already but it bears repeating: if you have a House of Living Dolls at your disposal, real or imagined or narrative? You have to maintain discipline. You can’t give in and completely join them, that’s the whole point. Everyone who joins the House gets House Odds, and the odds are you’ll get turned into an identical toy-toy, same hair, face, eyes, teeth and voice, as everyone else there)
And on that one? Let’s have a Happy New Year. =)) If you know you know, and add your own damned tags!
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alive in it
i’m burnt out.
it's not new, i've felt this but i haven't really known it. so now i have the knowledge to accept that it’s here, sapping me. it's an autistic thing. it’s a trans thing, a PTSD thing, an autoimmune thing, a work thing, a poverty thing, a pandemic thing. these things will go on because there is no support. (assistance, as it stands, comes with ever more surveillance.) the pandemic, and the pandemic as a perfect excuse for governments to rain new or continued fire on us, is taking a huge toll on everyone i care about. emotionally and physically. for others who live radically differently from me, it has smoothed over into inconvenience. and watching that from the sidelines comes with grieving too.
i always think about what my friend Jules said, that we all talk a lot about how to prevent disability ("do this, not that") but not about being presently disabled. if under capitalism we're just trying to shift how its rules affect us here and there, we can't actually work healthily-- and there is absolutely no way for a disabled person to work healthily. so we fade from view. and what then?
this is the first year where i have to really consider whether or not i can keep going.
it feels awful to say that! as though i'm throwing it in the face of everyone who has ever been (much too) kind to me. that kindness spurs me. who doesn't want affirmation, warmth, to be recognised and welcomed? i am grateful in a way where i have basically no idea how to contain it or return it in kind, it's so huge to me. i'm at a loss for words, at least creative ones. i wish i could spend more time on it. it's sometimes too much and i have to come back later. i wish i could do better and the goal is that i will.
and of course to me, it's not a question: "yes! Forever, yes! i love this! i need this!" but my body and my circumstances, specifically how my circumstances don't allow for more or faster work currently, forces me to question it. the way my work is treated, and myself as the person making it, and where i put it, and how "present" i must be--
i mean, why the fuck did i go back to work immediately following an emotionally devastating legal battle? it doesn’t feel good or victorious. it's not a new lease on life, it’s just buying time. why, in a pandemic, am i so worried about keeping up a palatable public appearance? (other than that my income relies on it?) i take a long time to talk and i have a lot to say. historically, people don’t care to hear it, so i try to read the room every time to know exactly how much to say and in what way, and even if i try to do exactly how all the real people do, there is some gross intangible quality to me that taints it and implies permission to pick it apart in bad faith or dismiss it entirely. i know it's not the fault of one thing, and it's the result of many elements coming together neatly. but i know that because i have to.
being trans and being autistic are pretty similar to each other in that regard-- you can always count on supposed allies to use one part of you to justify the other’s eradication, or, in polite conversation, their utter disinterest in your point of view or needs. because there's something too fucking weird about you! can't quite put our finger on it, but you're just kind of a little bit gross? (There are papers about the neurotypical reaction to neurodivergent people, if you want to read about it.) sorry. Love what you do for us but you are too exceptional. no one feels the way you do and it’s not enough that you feel it.
it's exhausting. it’s much easier to be quiet than risk it all. literally.
with my work being veritable outsider art, i’ve always cared much more about entertaining myself and having company. i don’t want to be lonely in it, and i care about that more than the impractical idea of making a fat stack off of comics. in this economy??
this isn’t a guilt-tripping “wah, i wish people engaged with me more.” honestly, what is engagement, anyway? “interaction.” to me this isn’t about numbers. this isn’t about clout. it isn’t about x number of y rewards. it doesn’t matter how many people, or where. it’s about watching myself sink. it’s about being treated fairly. ultimately, i think i am food. i think this because i’ve been told it. i’ve been told i’m some sort of stepping stone. that this is what being “brave” is, and people take it and run with it. i think i am a blank slate for common use. bad or good, i've only given enough to be misconstrued. if i have been brave, that’s not what’s being seen here.
these feelings are substantiated all the more when i see similar behaviour (or lack thereof) repeated in how people approach trans artists (just casting the widest net here, obvs it changes per other factors!) considering how trans people are constantly pulled apart and rewritten by the public, this should bother people much more. whether it’s our lives that are taken, our bodies and relationships examined, our housing and medical and job access litigated and limited, our histories renamed, our work uncredited, it should be unacceptable. and given that we’re spoken about with genocidal sentiment, the shit i’m concerned about really shouldn’t be the biggest concern.
but you want proof, evidence you understand, you want me to make you see things which you are, even with best intentions, fundamentally opposed to seeing. the burden is on me to be righteous and sweet in response to petty, punitive games when something far worse looms. it’s all connected, anyway. and nothing is ever good enough-- if you don't even believe i could be abused, or have/ought to have autonomy, that i could be sick or suffer (and that there is no speedy cure the way there might be for you,) that i could be the gender/s i am because of xyz... that i can or can’t be attracted to so and so... that i don’t deserve to live... that i don’t deserve to complain... what can i make you see, really? and why should i try?
i’m the type of person who naturally enjoys learning about the context for the work and stories i see/read, and i presume other people do, too. i don't like having that taken from me. i don't like feeling as though i can't talk about myself honestly, seriously and/or with levity. i worry my own interests aren’t interesting to my friends and that this is perceived as a negative quality rather than a neutral one. if i act out of line i will lose my entire income in a moment. no care, no questions.
i am proven over and over that i am worth as much as i work, that my worth is derived only from what viewers find in my work, and, naturally, they find themselves-- they don't find me there with them, nor do they want me in there with them. people say don’t interact if, and they list things about me. yet they feel exceedingly comfortable entering MY space without seeking or wanting me in it. it's strange. because i reference myself and my experiences repeatedly. i reference my body. hair, scars, big bazongas, fantasies and realities. how do i make something like that more literal than just depicting it? i reference photos of myself in an effort to love what's there. with the physical comes too the intangible framing. through presentation my work can end up divorced from the experience or labour of making it, it does feel good to know i am alive in it.
i used to think that if all the confronting and unsettling work by weirdos were to disappear, that people would look around and miss what it brought. but now i’m not actually sure if that’s true.
“representation” isn’t just being done FOR trans viewers. the trans shit that you find, that shit that really shakes and builds foundations, is BY (or at the very least was touched by) trans people. many kinds. all kinds. (who of us then is it okay to kill?)
we all come into ourselves through different means, but i think many will agree it can be a real gift to find this stuff. for me it was an early internet, sequestered but borderless. for many now, it’s mainstream media properties or platformed independent work (whatever independent means in regard to having safety nets.) but i wish that what we have now, and what we have when we look back on earlier expressions of trans/queerness, was treated with more care, more slowly. i wish the humanity of the person mattered more. i, personally, whether i like or dislike something, have a hard time extracting the person from it. they are an encapsulation of a time, conditions, qualities.
what is important art? who decides? can it just be important that i feel joy? yes, with so much suffering, large and small, it is important that i feel joy. and i derive joy from stupid bullshit and from articulating, in literal metaphors, many types of despair.
rage. vengeance. hopelessness. selfishness. terrible mistakes that hang in the air and all you can do is swallow and try again. psycho meltdowns and lashing out with displaced grief because the grief is too big, wanting it to become a hammer or a spear, something to break it. the dread and the quiet, out of body compulsions that come in the dark bathroom mirror. a violent hunger when you're denied food for being too fat, when you're asked if you can just be pretty, can you just try. wanting to become smaller and smaller to feel powerful when bigger and bigger is reviled. bigger deserves mercy killing, it's only right. fear from having your body pried apart, vivisected. wanting obsessively, tearfully to have the rage and agony fucked out of you. a thing, a monster, a "girl", a boy, a shadow. when you don't want to die-- or you do, but wish you didn't have to. the way that stubbornness sticks like useless knife. and what being property does to a person. but hey, if your aggressor thinks you're someone else, maybe then it's okay, maybe then what they do isn't really happening to you :) maybe it doesn't count. maybe you can tell yourself that enough times.
emotions and expressions that other people may find challenging, that they’ll tell you to suppress. and equally suppressed, the methods with which you regain yourself. the art i make rejects that faux-concerned suppression and it will evolve as i learn more about myself. it's important that i have a place to speak. especially a place that isn't dependent on the exact most precise words for hundreds, or thousands, or millions, or any amount of hypothetical eyes and itchy fingers.
i've always felt like art-- or at least my art, or at least, some of my art-- shouldn't be fueled by spite because spite, the emotional space and energy of it, is a resource that can be depleted. i don’t only want to make art through a single set of conditions and if i only source the one thing, i can easily find myself spent.
but sometimes i am so angry at the way art is consumed + simultaneously scrutinised with conspiratorial fervour for any potential of hidden moral failings while very real violence, at a state or corporate or even industry level, is dismissed. i hate that i was advocating for the safety of myself/my family in an unmasked courtroom in an unmasked courthouse while being painted as insane or vengeful by an active abuser-- an abuser who, legally, must know my home address.
I hate that for court i have to carefully pick which clothes might make me most empathetic from various angles. For the doctor, I have to look like I give a damn, and I guess by fretting over it, I do. If I'm going to share photos of myself, whichsometimes I do to remember I am not so far away, I better find the right lighting conditions to suspend disbelief. Don't be too fat or (after ~9 years HRT) too "in transition"-y. For court, which tone or pitch is most like a victim? Or the better question: is my natural way of speaking too stupid or mean? Which tone commands the appropriate respect? Well, I probably won't notice in time anyway.
I hate that I have to be referred to by some other name because I can't trust anyone-- certainly not the government-- to safely use the one I call myself, and I hate that I care about my name at all as a source of self-affirmation.
I hate that i need a perfect, but not too aggressively confident, memory of my own mistreatment. I hate that there's no burial site for memories of home, no ceremony i can trust to put them to rest. The present eats and dissolves the past. There is no time. (And there it is again: eating. Devouring. Gobbling it up. What an ugly and uncouth thing to do! Unless your body nourishes another.)
In the car to and from court, i find myself wondering if my art will ever play a part in this case, or a future case, and wonder if the people posting my work on hate sites will somehow play a part in this case, and wonder who, of the people currently enjoying my art, will turn on me and either recreate or align themselves with this traumatising system.
i hate that art is called "important" when it's so clearly not: it's a commodity that as a practise/purpose is devalued. it’s a Thing. it’s Candy. there is little to no education on how to receive or create it. i don’t just mean higher education. culturally, in western society, we don't prioritise the historical and modern education necessary to value art or to value workers broadly. things arrive to us ready-made and then we own them. the people who make art, even or especially people doing so-called "important" work, are treated like shit. by their bosses, by the industry, by the audience.
and so, holding out hope that the work/impact might outlast your own brief life is a magical comfort, and how tightly it's held is entirely relative to you & your community’s bleak conditions while living. maybe i will matter when i’m dead. but how is that possible if my work lasts for all of the 30 seconds that someone looks at it? how can i matter when i’m dead if some of those viewers would rather me dead now? i think about how my work might be used, or forgotten, and i don’t even have enough money to be deadnamed on my headstone.
it's like i'm crafting heavens when i think that, maybe, while i might languish and die unknown, my dirtbag pervert transsexual JPGs might outlast me. maybe someone will trace it in their notebook or something and when the automatic action is done maybe they'll try to remember what it ever meant. the trans boy fagdyke butch daddy watersports (or w/e) might not imprint on their memory-- but if they find themselves "fooled" into enjoying it, i hope they’ll have the decency not to blame me for their gift of knowledge. pleasure and comfort is not my sin.
lol: i’m thinking about what Mr. Wheatus (of the band Wheatus) said on the pod. that people are usually agonisingly aware of their own insecurities and shortcomings, and when an artist is able to point to them in a sloppy, human/humanising way, through the gauzy or challenging space of art, people love it. doing something perfectly isn't what matters, because perfect isn't relatable. some people hate seeing something close to them and some people hate seeing something far away. but i’m sick of being clean and tiptoeing around my own humanity in case someone finds it disappointing or disgusting. in real life i have no choice but to live in this body, or occupy it, and be disgusting the entire time. so if that's true then i'm sick of allowing myself to be flat and nothing for ease.
and if i am nothing: okay then! that’s exactly what i’ll give.
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