#there's still like 40% worth of salt within me

[zukkacore]

Idek who in my audience would still be on the h*p bandwagon but tbh I say this as a pitch both for ppl who still have nostalgia for the property and ppl who enjoy being haters (I mean, if you can withstand the salt without also getting just so so so burned out hearing about JKR’s bigotry, I know it hits me sometimes too), the Shrieking Shack Podcast is excellent in terms of critical analysis of the wizard books while also just being extremely funny. I swear the hosts xeecee and Liz have a wire tap into my brain, in terms of sense of humor and just voicing the problems I have with this stupid franchise.

I understand the stance of people who are avoidant of the franchise completely, but I do think having a better understanding of how and why the books ultimately failed and veered off in quality definitely helped me demystify the franchise as this like, untouchable thing of quality I was too attached to to ever give up but instead as a flawed work that I had grown out of and was far more at peace with letting go. I also think it helps me articulate to other people why the artist is not separate from the art. Her worldview is imbedded into her books, and especially later on, that’s why they were so mean-spirited and awful. No matter how much I liked the series as a kid, I think the distaste for the pernicious aspects of the franchise has been an… effective deterrent for me going back. And while I don’t have the energy to get into terminally online arguments, I think critical analysis is useful as a skill to give people who also have a skewed and nostalgia colored view of the franchise.

I will addendum that their perspective on the first few books is a lot more charitable and while I do agree w their thoughts, hearing nice things abt the franchise might feel distasteful in this climate, (I know it is for me) so if that’s the case and you have no problem starting in the middle I recommend starting around book 4! That’s when you start to get much more of a mixed bag.

And if you wanna hear basically nothing but wall to wall dunking, start with Deathly Hallows. Jumping in cold to a seventh season is rough but I promise it’s so worth it. I re-listen to the podcast All The Time when I’m between interests, and I tend to skip the early seasons and just go straight for the bad stuff. I’ve probably gone back to the DH season so many times. It’s brutal yet somehow completely earned. I’ve never seen anyone so thoroughly articulate my long held feelings that DH is a failure of a capstone on that franchise on all levels structural, thematic, and moral. This is not me pretending I had clairvoyance into the future bc there was plenty of shit that snuck past me as a kid (hello, book 4 was my favorite for forever) but when I read that book in like 5th grade I could just feel something was deeply wrong.

Also they just wrapped up the season where they were reading midnight sun and twilight at the same time and it’s been great. It’s way more lighthearted which has been a nice palate cleanser & I do think they’re a bit charitable toward twilight but the thing I appreciate is that their critique is more substantive than just the common reactionary low hanging fruit talking points & they have actually brought up the neglected topic of racism within the books

Also if you’re just starting and the news topics + freebies / goofs segment they do at the beginning and ends of the episodes throws you off , I get it. I love shriekcast & I do find the segments funny but they’re not everyone’s thing, and I do scrub through that stuff sometimes bc it can be long winded. For reference It usually lasts abt 30-40 min sometimes shorter and occasionally way longer.

[dothwrites]

Destiel + "can I hold your hand?" uWUWUWUWUWUWu

---

Dean’s too excited to be invited to Charlie’s party to remember to ask who else will be there. He regrets his short-sightedness when he walks into her house. It seems as though the entire population of their high school is located in her living room and Dean recognizes no one. 

An all-too familiar anxiety settles in his bones. He should be used to this by now; he’s been the new kid at school too many times to count. He and Sam hardly believed Dad when he said they were settling permanently in Pontiac, Illinois, but three weeks in and Dad hasn’t made noises of moving yet. Which is fine, but having a permanent mailing address means Dean actually has to make friends. Sam, the little freak, already has a host of buddies attached to him by the end of his first day (it’s not weird that Dean watches his little brother from across the cafeteria, all right, he’s just being a good brother and making sure Sam is fitting in), but Dean remains woefully unattached. 

Enter Charlie Bradbury, tech genius and actual human ray of sunshine. Seeing Dean’s pathetic attempts at creating lasting connections, Charlie had taken him under her proverbial wing and introduced him to her impressively wide circle of friends.  

Dorothy, Kevin, Jo, Benny, Gilda, Victor, Hannah, Inias, Anna, Gabriel--the names and faces flew past him. Only one stuck. 

Castiel. 

Dean knows he stares when Charlie introduces Castiel, but who could blame him? With those big blue eyes, sharp jaw, and a voice that sounds like he’s been gargling gravel even at seventeen, Dean’s willing to bet a lot of people stare at Castiel. It’s too bad that Castiel doesn’t seem interested in making the slightest overture at friendliness. He’s not rude but also not interested. Every time Dean tries to start a conversation, Castiel answers him in as few words as possible before making an excuse to leave. Dean’s fairly certain his last one was I have to clean the gutters. And Dean’s not stupid, he can take a hint (even if takes him about five times to figure it out). Castiel’s not interested in being friends (or anything more god forbid). 

Which is fine. Dean has plenty of friends. 

Too bad he can’t find any of them at this party. 

He forces his way through the crowd, ignoring the elbows and red solo cups thrown his way. The music (some awful Top 40 pop crap) blares, and Dean makes a note to take over the speakers at Charlie’s next party. 

Dean would love to give Charlie shit about it now, but he can’t find her anywhere. He makes his way from the living room into the kitchen and still finds no sign of his friends. The door to the back porch calls to him like a siren song and Dean slips outside before anyone ever has a chance to notice he’s gone. 

Dean closes the door behind him, thankfully shutting out most of the noise and the godawful music. Outside, it’s not nearly as humid, less so when a cool breeze drifts by. Dean sighs in relief as the sweat cools on the back of his neck. It’s only then he realizes he’s not alone. 

Sitting on a bench at the edge of the patio, illuminated by the weak glow of a porch-light, sits Castiel.  Dean’s mouth goes dry as he watches Castiel take a deep sip from his solo cup, throat working as he swallows. It’s only when Castiel lowers the cup that he catches sight of Dean. He sputters on his last swallow, coughing as his lungs reject whatever liquid he just tried to give them. 

“Dean,” he finally rasps, carelessly wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “I didn’t...I didn’t think you would be here.” 

Amazingly, Dean feels disappointed. “Why? Did you think that I was too lame for this?”  

Castiel blinks. “No,” he says, surprise in his voice. “I thought...weren’t you going out with Anna tonight?” 

Dean vaguely remembers Anna hinting that she and a few of her friends were headed out to see a band downtown, but it hadn’t sounded like his scene. He does think that Castiel might have been standing in the background of that conversation, but he hadn’t thought the other boy was paying attention. 

“No. I mean, she asked, but...no.” 

“Oh. Well, all right then.” There’s something pleased in Castiel’s eyes as he ducks his head. Dean thinks he catches a hint of a smile. 

“Wait,” he says, feeling like he got this whole thing very wrong. “Were you...Cas, were you jealous?” 

“No,” Castiel says, a little too quickly. “You can do whatever you like.” He punctuates the statement with another drink, swift and furious. 

Dean walks over to the bench Cas is sitting on. He sits down and notes the quick dart of Castiel’s eyes to the minimal distance separating them. “So why aren’t you inside?” Castiel finally asks, his eyes on the few stars visible from the suburbs. 

Dean shrugs. “’S too hot in there. I don’t know anyone. Shitty music.” A disheartening thought strikes. “Why? Do you want me to leave you alone?” 

“No!” Cas answers a little too quickly. “I mean...no. Stay. Please. I like talking to you.” 

Dean scoffs. “Dude, you’ve said like...three full sentences to me. Kind of takes more than that to have a conversation.” 

“I’ve said more,” Cas protests. When Dean levels a stare at him, he relents. “You’re...very distracting sometimes.” Cas’ eyes flick down to Dean’s lips. “All the time,” he amends, his own tongue dabbing at his lower lip. 

Warmth blooms in Dean’s chest. “Cas...do you...” He grins for a moment as a world of new possibilities opens up to him. “Do you like me?” 

“We don’t have to make a big deal out of this.” Cas draws his knees up to his chest, obviously resigned. “I mean, I’d appreciate it--”

“Hold up,” Dean interrupts. It looks like he and Cas are going to have to get a hell of a lot better at this communication thing; they both misread this situation so badly. “What if I want to make a big deal about it?” Cas looks towards him, his forehead creased in obvious misery, and Dean sighs in frustration. “Not like that, I just mean...Look, can I hold your hand?” 

The skin of the back of Dean’s neck prickles with a blush (amazing how much of an idiot Cas turns him into), but it’s worth it for the look of slowly dawning realization on Cas’ face. Even better is when Cas stretches out his hand, palm up towards Dean. 

Dean’s hand slides overtop Cas’ before his fingers lace smoothly between Cas’. He wraps his fingers onto the back of Cas’ hand, something pleased jangling in him at the look of their clasped hands. 

“I thought you kind of hated me,” Dean breathes, transfixed by Cas’ palm, dry and warm, against his. 

“No,” Cas agrees, his own voice faint. His thumb presses daringly into Dean’s skin. “Quite the opposite.” 

“Oh.” Dean grins and Cas matches his expression, his lips spreading in a wide, gummy smile. Inside his chest, his heart performs a series of Olympic worthy somersaults. Somewhere, a choir sings a hallelujah chorus. “Well, that’s good I guess. ‘Cause I really like you.” 

They stay there, ignoring the music and sounds from within the house, their hands clasped together on Dean’s lap, and watch the stars late into the night. 

---

tags underneath cut--message/reply to be added or removed <3

@screamatthescreen @queenvee08 @dizzypinwheel @rogerslouis @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @stay-inside-the-salt-ring @deansbff @spaceshipkat @espejonight28738 @proccastinate @organicpurplepants @apieceofurmind @good-things-do-happen-dean @thewolfatmydoor 

[zandracourt]

And now for something completely personal...

I have unfollowed Misha on social media, which makes me sad. I appreciate anyone who wants to keep talking, but I had to turn it off because Misha’s words tonight were hard to hear from someone I thought had a better understanding of the community he is advocating for. And perhaps what we are seeing is just the reality of being an ally versus actually being part of the community. In the same way that whites just end up sounding defensive and tone deaf when trying to explain why something racist really wasn’t.

My story is of being bi. I have a daughter who is pan, and I am het-married because that happened before I fully understood my bisexuality. I’m out now and I have had F/F experiences, but I have not moved in the world with a full-time female sexual partner, so I don’t know the full weight of queer oppression and I think that is important for people to know.

But what I do know really, really well is what it’s like to not fully understand being bisexual until my late 30s-early 40s because of falling for my best friend. I understand that it takes time to process and even believe in the feelings you have. It can take years. I understand having to come to terms with queerness when you’ve lived your life very convincingly heterosexual. I understand the sense of hypocrisy and denial you feel inside. And I understand what it means to know that a life you might idealize just can’t be the life you live. So I profoundly understand Cas making a confession of love and having Dean not be able to reciprocate, whatever his reason. What I don’t understand is why you took a situation that could have been a true gift to the queer community and literally salt and burn it to ash.

The damage SPN did was in being unwilling to operate from any kind of queer perspective while deliberately using queer tokenism to manipulate a fanbase for profit and longevity. The problem the show cannot escape is that the world has changed tremendously in 15 years. Queer viewers no longer have to accept scraps. We have shows that give us queer characters right up front in many genres. Not saying they all do them well, but representation is higher than it has ever been. And that is exactly why all this schlock by the CW, the desperate attempts by the actors to smooth it all over, and their repeated comments that they just have no idea why everyone is so upset just feels like they are reacting to not being able to continue to use queerness for profit and not out any actual caring for queer people. They just don’t want the bad press and they don’t want to be called out for their homophobia because that damages their reputations. They had a chance to be a landmark in queer storytelling and ended up as a enormous example of everything wrong with homophobic storytelling and queerbaiting.

Destiel is not new. It’s not fringe. And it’s not our fucking imaginations. It’s not. And if you can’t see it, chances are you are hopelessly, painfully straight. You will never get queer stories and I feel bad for you honestly, because the depth and vitality that queer characters and queer romance brings to storytelling is incredible.

Cas loved Dean, yes. And he finally got the courage to say so and promptly died. It DOES. NOT. MATTER. Why he died. It doesn’t matter that we got word he was brought to heaven or that it was written by a gay writer. It IS a bury-your-gays, devastating, repressive, horrible message because Cas never got to be fulfilled as a queer character. He never got to discover how to be queer and find happiness even if Dean doesn’t love him back. He became canonically gay and died within seconds. That is NOT supporting the queer community or queer stories. It’s literally killing them.

As for Dean and whatever he said or didn’t say, again, the conspiracy theories around it demonstrates exactly why people are so upset. Because they were cowards. They were cowards in an era when everyone is fucking done with those who cannot take a stand and instead flounder in the “there are great people on both sides” ethos. It is the same level of GTFO attitude I have for any one who says “gays are fine, as long as they are not gay here”: be that church, a restaurant, on a television set, or any where else. To echo Justice Ginsberg, there will be enough queer stories on TV when they all are. And it is exactly SPN’s fear of “going there” with Destiel YEARS ago that brought them to this miserable end. Destiel only became a risk worth doing when they believed there was no cost to them; when they could kill everyone and never show anyone being queer so they never had to actually deal with queerness at all. After all, Buffy didn’t truly love Spike, but she still told him she loved him and held his hand as he sacrificed himself for her in the final episode. *That* is the trope of a sacrificial romantic death. And now they are paying the price for their lack of integrity to their own show and story telling.

As a final note, I’ve been thinking about the fact that as a fic writer, I’ve had no desire to fix this ending, despite having written many Destiel fics over the years. The embers were still burning on the McDanno dumpster-fire last April when I started to write that fix-it fic and that was my first ever fic in that fandom! That’s how badly I needed to change that ending for myself. After Endgame, I needed better closure for Steve, so I wrote one. But after SPN, I’ve had no desire to write Destiel at all. I haven’t even wanted to read any SPN fics. I have lost my joy for the show and everything attached to it.

I don’t give a shit about CW or most of their programming. I *have* cared about the actors and the fan spaces because there are amazing people there and Misha has been an incredible role model in so many, many ways for not just the fandom, but for human beings in general. Until tonight.

Nina Simone said we all have to learn to get up from the table when love is no longer being served. That was exactly how I felt when I saw Misha’s message on Facebook. He is so much more than this fandom and after some time, I know I will probably follow him again in the future because he is a truly fine person who is doing incredible things in this world. For now, though, I can’t.

So to the network, showrunners, and as painful as it is to say, actors, here’s the hard, cold, truth: Destiel fans have not caused any of this. The show did. And sadly, there is nothing you can do to repair the damage you have done. That is your legacy now and we all have to live with it.

[theautisticgamer]

A Familiar Frontier (Opinions on Pioneers of Olive Town [Story of Seasons])

First off, kudos to Nintendo and Marvelous for making this game part of Nintendo Switch Online (NSO)’s Exclusive Access line-up. It was a great idea! (From 09/22-28-2021, the game was available in its full form, and those who played this ‘unlimited demo’ and purchased the game could play right where they left off without so much as juggling a save/cloud file). After my horrible experience with Story of Seasons: Friends in Mineral Town, I couldn’t afford to jump back into this series with a blind eye. I needed to make absolutely certain the game was worth investing $40-50 USD* into. After all, if I wanted to play a really good farming sim, I could just replay Stardew Valley that cost a better price of $15 USD. Do not take this as me calling the game over-priced; farming simulators, as long as they’re well-made, are usually a great value. Games like these tend to get players greatly invested, loaded with content, goals, and customization. Friends in Mineral Town missed a lot of these marks for me, and it was impossible to invest in a hollow experience. I’m pleased to say Pioneers of Olive Town is nothing like its predecessor this way, full of content galore.

The Town Itself: Olive Town is a different setting than I’ve seen before in farming sims. While still embracing the rural routes that make these games such a refreshing form of escapism, Olive Town is a coastal pier town with dreams of becoming a tourist destination. While I live nowhere near the coast myself, I do live in a tourism town for one of America’s biggest cities. Still embracing the rural traditions of my rural home while observing the influx of city immigrants and license plates from other states, I can’t help but appreciate Olive Town as a second home. Even those who can’t relate to this economy can find it refreshing. As you help Olive Town develop, you’ll get more businesses in town and see more tourists wandering the streets.

The Locals: While many players complain about repetitive dialogue from NPC’s**, it’s much more unique than in Friends of Mineral Town or other games such as Animal Crossing: New Horizons. The people themselves are also interesting, racially and culturally diverse (there is even a racially-blended family). There are also different roles than I’ve seen in other farming sims. The mayor’s son is a lazy sloth that tries his best and always comes up short; there is a young and wealthy noble from a ‘distant land’ that is overseen by his guardian (who is himself a cultured yet humble gentleman), a park ranger, a food critic, an amnesiac ancient spirit, and so on. These people are very interesting to talk to. As you gain friendship points with these characters, you’re rewarded with cutscenes not only based on their interactions with you, but interactions with the surrounding townsfolk (such as that character’s family members, employers, and friends), fleshing out not only these characters but fleshing out the community within your town.

Never a Dull Moment: The farm has a surprising variety of tasks to do. While mainstays like crop-growing and livestock-raising have rightfully returned, there are shorelines to collect sea creatures and rock salt on, puddles to be cleaned up with buckets to collect clay (which can be used for bricks and mortar, which the games finds usefulness for both of these), sump-pumps can be placed in larger puddles or ponds to collect sunken treasure, and more. I never find myself wondering what to do next even when I’ve accomplished easier crop and livestock maintenance; there’s always something to do.

It’s a Big, Big World Out There: The farm is way bigger than I expected, even when hearing about its sheer size in reviews. You get access to greater stretches of land as you progress, and these new areas always have new kinds of resources to collect, as well as new kinds of livestock to raise. You also have a lot of freedom when it comes to organizing and decorating your farm, and that is always appreciated.

Mining: Lots of farming sims have well designed mines; Friends of Mineral Town wasn’t one of these. I’m pleased to say mining makes much more sense in this title, and is much more rewarding. A small thing, sure, but worth mentioning as it was my biggest fear in buying the game.

Quality of Life Updates: Even Stardew Valley would envy these upgrades; when you run out of storage, tools can be stored in an extra tool bag that you receive on day one in the game. This is priceless in the mines and while foraging. There are no longer tools needed in your inventory for milking, shearing, or brushing your livestock either; these are done automatically by the game. Just walk up to your animal and take care of them without worrying about rearranging your inventory. The shipping bin is also available all day instead of until only 5pm, which has been in other farming sims already but is a worthwhile update to Story of Seasons. Day cycles also feel like a nice length, 40 minutes, and while AutoSave returns for when you put your avatar to bed, you can also manually save your file at any time of day. No lost progress when you have no choice but to stop playing (be it battery life or life’s obligations).

Now That’s the Spirit!: Earth Sprites are a Quality of Life Update worth their own discussion. Story of Seasons has long had a system called Sprites. In Friends in Mineral Town, Sprites were elves that could be bribed to help you with chores, and this was a complete slog, as you had to waste time in your in-game day to seek their help, and then deciding what these Sprites should do for you was a hassle. Pioneers of Olive Town set things on a better course with the new Earth Sprites. As you do tasks on your farm- any tasks- Earth Sprites will be rescued and you can alot them to various categories; the Sprite Leaders of these categories will give you prizes like resources and ‘Sprite Coins’ when you (optionally) visit them, and as these leaders level up from more sprites assigned to them, you can get better prizes from them. These sprites also offer optional minigames to earn more Sprite Coins if you desire. Sprite Coins (which the game gives generously) can be spent on harder-to-get resources of your choice, and are valuable in a pinch (all these resources can be obtained without Sprite Coins just by playing the game). Earth Sprites are also much cuter than the elf-looking Sprites in previous entries. These bear a great resemblance to the collectable toy “Squishmallows” and the leaders have cutely patterned bodies related to their task. Of course, cosmetics aren’t everything, but they make a big difference.

Small Gripes: Many people have mentioned the farm will lag often once the farm has expanded. For people who are obsessed with their framerates, it may ruin the moment. Loading times are also slow between the farm/mines/town, about five seconds, but considering just the sheer size of data being unloaded and reloaded, this is forgivable to me. Not only have I frozen for a full second on my farm numerous times, though, once in Olive Town I froze and found unloading and reloading in new locations, some of the characters were different characters entirely. The other problem I have, though small, is the museum. While the photographing mission here is nice and small enough not to be cumbersome, a statue full of local animals leaves much to be desired. The treasure you can put on display looks lackluster, and you can’t get a very good look at the sea-life you donate. Unlike Stardew Valley, you can’t see in your menu what you’ve already donated to the museum, either, and having to go to the museum just to check every time feels like a waste of time. My last gripe, though it’s common in farming sims, is just how far away the town’s bulletin board is from the farm. It’s in the back of town, and in the back of the large town hall on top of that. It’s a hassle to go there and as a result, I’m not checking out the bulletin board as often as I’d like to.

Value for Your Money: While I discussed the great value of this game already, I do love to play with numbers and statistics. According to the site How Long to Beat, players played for an average of 74 hours and and 39 minutes***. Now, value from there depends on the price you are paying. Albeit, it doesn’t vary by much, only a few cents.

$40.00 (standard asking price): $0.54 per hour

$50.00 (premium edition’s asking price): $0.70 per hour

$35.00 (standard version if Gamestop Pro Rewards [$5 discount] are applied): $0.47 per hour

Many players have gotten more than this time out of their copy of the game in a single playthrough, and the game has replay value too. So like most farming sims, you can really get the bang for your buck out of Story of Seasons: Pioneers of Olive Town.

Premium Edition Comments: I had bought the Premium Edition for this game, so I’m also able to discuss the bonuses, which were a small plush toy of a bull and a cloth poster.

Those who pre-ordered Friends in Mineral Town had received a small plush toy of a Strawberry Cow, and the Bull is fairly identical in size (can fit in your fist). It’s cheeks are slightly bigger, the material is slightly softer, and the detailing on the stomach is stitched (the Strawberry Cow had a sticker on its stomach; the stitch-work looks much better).

The cloth-poster is very vibrant in color but it is flimsy. The ends aren’t sewn in any way and so they are a bit frayed. A paper poster may have been the better option, but it still looks nice hanging up.

As discussed, the game is a great value with any version, and if you like getting little goodies with your games, I’d say it’s worth the extra $10 spent. If you don’t care about these items though or are tight on funds, you won’t be missing out on much. With how common the Premium Edition copies are, there isn’t any collector’s value or resale value here.

Conclusion: I didn’t set out to write a review, but this was a really good game and I had a lot of fun talking about it. I’m having a lot of fun playing it, too, and would definitely recommend this title to anyone. Thankyou for reading my post and if you have anything to say about the game or any questions about it, I’d love to talk to you some more in the comments.

Notations Index:

*: United States Dollars **: Non-Playable Characters ***: These statistics were from October 26th, 2021. At the time, seventeen players had been surveyed (fifteen played the Switch version; two played the Steam version).

[proxylynn]

Underfell: File Name not Edgy Enough #26

Chapter 26: Misery

WARNING: I WANT NO RESPONSIBILITY OVER SPOILING THINGS FOR OTHERS. THAT BEING SAID, THIS IS HOW FILE NAME NOT FOUND WOULD FUNCTION IN THE AU OF UNDERFELL. BEFORE YOU READ THIS, UNLIKE THE NICE TIME OF UNDERTALE, THIS WORLD IS KILL OR BE KILLED. THIS STORY WILL BE GRAPHIC, GORY, USE SWEARS LIKE NOBODY'S BUSINESS, AND DEAL WITH SENSITIVE SUBJECT MATTERS. FOR EXAMPLE, THOSE OF YOU WHO HAVE READ THE FILE NAME RELOCATED SPOOF WILL KNOW HOW I PICTURE THIS VERSION OF LYNSIE COMING TO THE UNDERGROUND. IT IS NOT AN ACCIDENT. IT IS NOT BECAUSE OF SOMETHING DUMB. IT IS BECAUSE SHE CHOOSES TO END HER LIFE. SO TAKE THIS WITH A GRAIN OF SALT. I MADE IT BECAUSE I NEEDED TO LET SOME OF THIS EDGINESS OUT OF MYSELF. WHICH I GUESS MAKES UNDERFELL LYNSIE EVEN MORE TRUE TO WHO I REALLY AM. ANYWAY, ENJOY. ^_^

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 2 MOMENTS BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Mettaton zooms through the air, the speed makes it hard to try to look for anything I can lock-on as a potential landmark. The worst part, I can't tell if Flowey is able to follow or can reach this far safely. Who am I kidding? Flowey has the best odds of making it around here without a scratch. Unlike my dumbass.

"THIS WILL DO."

He lands faster than expected. The shock shacks my insides uncomfortably. I gag trying to keep my stomach from flying out.

"SORRY, DARLING. I'LL ATTEMPT TO BE GENTLER IN THE FUTURE."

He puts me down, my legs buckle like a baby calf's but I manage to stand.

"N-No worries. Just...Just give me a moment."

He chuckles and gets ready to blast off again.

"SO CUTE. NOW LISTEN UP...HOTLAND IS LEVELED OUT IN THREE PARTS. WE WERE ON LEVEL ONE. THIS IS LEVEL TWO. FROM THIS ROOM, MAKE A RIGHT AND CONTINUE ONWARD. YOU'LL NEED TO REACH THE ELEVATOR TO PROCEED. THINK YOU CAN DO THAT?"

I wave at him.

"Go right. Got it. *heavy sigh* Um...Are there more vents?"

He doesn't say anything.

"Metta?"

"TOODLES!"

He blasts off and I roar our swears. Oh well. No point fussing on that. If I'm lucky Flowey will have heard my shouting and come to help me. But this room...The path leading out is glass. The land isn't connected. Flowey would have to dive deeper to find a joining point, most likely it would be too deep and the heat harmful. I need to leave and not look down. I take a step but fumble, grabbing a random signpost to stop the fall.

"Damn it...Is this what jet-lag is?"

The sign's writing makes me curious.

[Art Club: Meet here! Next meeting: October 10th, 8PM]

Huh? Wait...What is the date and time? Argh! I have no sense for time anymore. Toriel has an out-of-date calendar that she refuses to change which doesn't help and the cellphone had the closest thing to a clock yet there's no telling if it was on time.

"Ahhhh!!! I'm late!!! I'm late!!! I'm so sorry!!!"

From seemingly out of nowhere, a doughy butterscotch colored monster in a black fedora and vest comes rushing towards this spot with papers fluttering away from him. He's in such a damn hurry that he trips and ends up crashing, skidding to a stop inches from my feet.

"*grumble* Son of a..."

He picks himself up and quickly grabs what papers he can. He looks odd. I'm getting weird neck-bread vibes off him. It's probably the fedora. Maybe if he took it off and let his brown hair free...What the fuck, am I thinking like a girl? Ewww! Stupid girl thoughts! That's my once per month. No more.

"So stupid! Why am I so clumsy? I hate being such a klutz!"

Poor guy.

"Need some help?"

He flinches. Did...Did he just realize I was here?

"W-Who are you? This is my spot! Get out!"

"Whoa! Chill. No need to be so harsh, kangaroo-boy."

His eyes widen.

"Kangaroo..."

Ah...shit. I know that look by now. My blue soul comes out.

"I'M A BUTTERDRAGON!!"

[WRONG ENEMY !? begins to play in the background.]

...Fuck my life. Wait...What the fuck is a butterdragon?

[You're blocked in angrily!]

"I come here to find something to draw. And what do I find? Some ignorant bitch that wouldn't know a masterpiece if it smacked her in the face!"

Is he referring to himself?

"It's time someone taught you a lesson! Consider it a gift. Let me look in my vest!"

He spins around and swings at me with his tail. It's coated in light blue magic. Fine. I don't move. It turns orange. I jump over it. It turns blue for two more swipes before turns around.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

"Oh! Whoops! That had to hurt! So sorry, I must have..."

He freezes seeing nothing happened to me.

"You...You're fine?"

I shrug. No point opening my mouth. He talks enough for the both of us.

[The enemy looks nervous.]

"Ummm, I...I couldn't find anything I want to give away. *softer* Not that I wanted to give you anything. *normal* Wait, wait! *laugh* I've got my notebook! I can draw you a picture in it! I'm quite the artist, you know. I'll draw you a GREAT picture!!!"

"It's not your turn."

He flinches.

"Oh...Right."

I look at my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

What even is that button? Eh...I don't need it. Not with this guy.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[SOMETHING]

What's with all the weird shit? Just be simple damn it.

[CHECK selected.]

[SO SORRY (REAL NAME, SAMAEL "SAM" D. BUTTERDRAGON) – HP: 1100  ATK: 9 DEF: -6 – This creature is definitely in the wrong time and space!]

Time and space...How the hell does he have negative defense?! That's a thing?!

"My turn!"

My thoughts are broken. He turns around to draw in his notebook, attacking once more with his tail. Blue swish. Orange swish. Blue swish. Blue swish. Orange swish. Orange swish.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Again he doesn't understand how I got away with no damage. Dude, I can't help that you're attack is obviously telegraphed.

[The enemy looks anxious.]

"S...sorry...The drawing didn't come out very well. Wait! I know the problem! I just have to find a better piece of paper for it!"

"I'm not sure that's how drawing works. But you do you."

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

"I don't want your pity."

Was worth a shot considering the way this fight's going.

"I'll settle on a draw-ing if that's better."

I emphasize the pun with a teasing wink. He gets a little frazzled.

"Uh...Don't do that again. Like...ever."

Screw it. I want to have some fun.

"Why? Are you gonna pun-ish me?"

His right eye twitches.

"Stop it."

"I have an ink-ling this is getting to you. But trust me...You paint seen nothing yet."

Getting frustrated he yanks at his hair before turning around and chucking crumpled balls of paper at me from over his shoulders. Finally, something I need to dodge that will take effort. Each toss has three balls and he does this ten times. The dude's wasting perfectly fine paper. Shameful.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm starting to think he's getting bothered by his inability to hurt me.

[The enemy looks perturbed.]

Called it.

"N-None of my papers are good enough to use..."

[SPARE selected.]

"It's not the tools. They don't create. They are but aids. It's the artist. Their skill and heart. That is key. Anyone can draw. It's as easy as breathing. But if you stress out and push too hard, if you forget to enjoy yourself...Then even what you'd call your masterpiece will never be good enough."

He looks at me funny.

"My advice, Mr. Butterdragon...Don't try to make something as others expect it to be made. Create something as you want it to be. Only then will you be happy with it. I would know. I'm a dabbler at doodling and there's something so...interesting...in being able to take a pencil and transfer an image that you only saw in your head to paper. Though I can never seem to get hands just right."

I look at my hands.

"Weird flesh sticks. Why are you so hard to draw?!"

He thinks for a moment. But then...

"THAT'S IT!!! I know what I can do!! I'll use my magic pencil! It has to be under some of these papers somewhere!!!!"

I take it he's still bent on attacking to prove he can draw. He goes back to tossing paper and by this point, I found a spot to just stand in where nothing falls near, so I wait till he's done.

"Here! I got it! My magic pencil is amazing! Everything I draw with it looks..."

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

This fight is so boring. I mean, I'm grateful to not have my ass kicked or beaten within moments of death's door, but...Is he really trying? Froggits try harder than this.

"Why aren't you hurt?!"

I cover my mouth in a yawn.

"Dude, can you let me spare you already? I need to get to level three before Mettaton has a fit."

[SPARE selected.]

He didn't like hearing this.

[The enemy taps his fingers together like jackhammers.]

"I'll show you. I'LL SHOW YOU ALL!! I AM A REAL ARTIST!!"

With pencil in hand, he scribbles into the air and much to my understanding of reality he adds two horned demons doodles to fight on his side.

[DOODLEBOG – HP: 100 ATK: 8 DEF: 999 – Art lets your wildest fantasies come to life!]

"Like I was saying...Anything I draw with this pencil becomes COMPLETELY REAL! But in your case, a little too real!"

I can't help the odd smirk that crawls across my lips.

"Finally..."

I stretch and pop some joints.

"I was starting to fall asleep. Show me what you've been holding back. Let the creativity flow!"

Both Doodlebogs launch eight doodle orbs in circle formations at me. The good news, there's room to move and enough spacing to do some fun maneuvering. The bad news...It's still freaking easy! They shoot this move twice before their turn ends. And still...

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm disappointed. And so is he.

"What...How...?!"

[The enemy is confused.]

I shake my head. Seems that's all he's got. Though, to his credit, those drawings need to go. But how do I do that? Hmmm...Maybe...

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[DRAW]

[SOMETHING]

What's this? Oh...Oh hell yeah.

[DRAW selected.]

"W-Wait...You can't..."

I grab my soul, not sure what else I'm to use, and trace out a large cat that glows like my soul.

"Sketch-kitty, pounce the Doodlebog on the left!"

The cat does as commanded, pouncing at the Doodlebog and they tussle off the side to the heat death below. He panics.

"How dare you use art against me! Don't just stand there, kill her!"

The remaining Doodlebog fires the same attack as before but done three times in rapid secession. I harder move yes, but one that still leaves spots open wiggle on through.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[The enemy is desperate.]

"H-Hey now...There's no need to do anything crazy. I-I shouldn't have attacked you. That was dumb. W-We good?"

Huh...I don't know if he's being truthful. I try to use MERCY but the button doesn't push in. Something is locking it. I wonder if it's because of the doodle? Is it affecting the battle conditions? To be safe, I'll return things to how they were.

[DRAW selected.]

"You're cheating! You have to be! No one can be this good!"

I roll my eyes while tracing out a massive snake.

"Sketch-snake, put the squeeze to the Doodlebog."

It strikes with the speed of a viper and coils the doodle like a constrictor. The doodle fights back, clawing at the sketch. The sketch knows what its mission is. It throws itself and the doodle over the edge, so now it's only the two of us. He is at a loss what to do.

[The enemy uses a hypnotizing 3D-tush-wiggle attack. Smells... furry.]

I think he's freaked out and out of options. His strongest move, an insane trump card, and I not only countered it but bested it.

[The enemy is apologizing to its visions of the Reaper.]

...What?

"I've messed up. I've really messed up. Oh no. I'm so dead! No...No. I won't let you kill me."

"Dude, I'm clearly not trying to kill you."

"I won't let art die!"

"And you're not listening."

"I'll use this regular pencil! I'll use 100% of best! There is no way you'd kill the maker of such a fine piece!"

He turns around and scribbles furiously. His tail swipes quickly and paper balls fly like crazy. This creates difficulty because trying to dodge the balls is made harder when trying to either stand still for light-blue attacks or move for the orange ones. Orange tail, orange tail, blue tail, blue tail, orange tail, and blue tail. This is how he should've been going at me from the start. It's a good attack.

[HP ███████████████████████████ 27/40]

"Are you ready!? I just finished! Here's your picture!"

He's so proud of it that he doesn't even notice that he finally did damage to me. The picture is a heart.

"What do you think!? It's a representation of your deepest essence... It's great, right!?"

I don't say a word. What did he mean by that? How is a heart my deepest essence? Is it a picture of my soul and souls are the essence of life? How the fuck did he being about so much thought with a heart?! My silence has him become uncomfortable.

"... (They think my art is terrible.) Well! I'll leave you with that thought! Goodbye! See you later! Sayonara! Nice knowing ya! Hasta la vista. ... I should leave."

He attempts to leave but he freezes when I quickly grab his tail.

"Um..."

"That image...You poured your heart into and it shows. It made me think. Art does that. It makes you think and feel. You did that to me. ...10 out of 10."

His eyes widen.

"R-Really?"

I nod and let his tail go...only to get a sappy hug from the butterball.

"Thank you!"

I made his day. He was trying to kill me and is now hugging me over a compliment. I think this is over.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 318 gold.]

Holy shit! I'm rich!

The battle music fades out as he lets me go. My soul returns to me.

"Did you...Did you really like it?"

I nod.

"You gave it your all. That makes it special. Keep that spirit and don't be afraid to try other styles. You'll be amazed at what you can do if you try."

"Like your animals?"

"Animals have always been easy for me. It's people that are my weak-link. Um...Can I see that pencil for a sec?"

He hands me his notebook and normal pencil, to which I make two different drawings. One, a traditional European dragon spouting flame. This is my specialty, I can make these almost with my eyes closed. But the second one is my try at an anime version of myself. I use the eraser a lot on the face, hands, and chest. It never looks right to me once I'm okay with another part of the body. Yet I know I can't spend ages on this so I hand it over when I believe it looks okay.

"See what I mean now?"

"What are you talking about? These are great."

"Exactly..."

He's confused.

"Even when it's good, I still think I suck. But it's that negativity that spurs me to try harder. One day, I shall get those parts down and be happy with it without erasing whole bits out of frustration or doubt in ability. So...yeah...Keep those. Let them help you. Inspire you to be better in spite of others and yourself. Refuse to give up. And never surrender."

He gives me a funny look and I rub the back of my head with a nervous laugh.

"Heh...I have no idea where I was going with that. I tend to ramble when trying to be positive."

A small smile comes to him as he takes a few steps past me.

"I think I get what you're saying. If it's all the same to you...I think I want to be alone with my thoughts for a bit. Might see what ideas come."

I smirk.

"Take care, buddy. May the Muses inspire you to greatness."

I leave the butterdragon to his thoughts and not look down at the glass path that must be crossed. Yet it's doing so that alarms my brain. The land is not solid rock. The land is being supported by thick metal pipes and trussed beams that don't look like they're meant to be used here. I'm conflicted, I feel safe and unease at the same time. It also doesn't help I don't have Flowey with me. I need him. I don't like proceeding without my bro. So...

"Flowey! Bro, I'm up over here! Hurry up!"

Not expecting a response, least of all right away, I aim to head out slowly in hopes that he'll catch up to me before I really need him. But the path actually branches like a 4-way intersection and I get confused. Left is probably back to level one but what's the forward path? I shrug and check it out. Not like I have a killer robot to appease because I'm on TV. Thankfully, it's an empty spot of land. Scratch that. An empty spot of land with some trash on it.

[There's an apron lying on the ground.]

Really? That scrap's an apron?

I inspect the ragged thing and find it's in better shape than it looks.

[Will you take it or leave it?]

This option leads me to believe it's a human item. Probably pairs with this frying pan. Yes, I want it.

[You got the Splattered Apron.]

...Do I wanna equip it? Ugh...I tie the apron around my waist but backwards so it covers my ass.

[You equipped the Splattered Apron.]

[You gain 11 Defense.]

[Are the splotches from food, an enemy, or the former wearer? You don't want to know. Heals 1 HP every other turn.]

Wait...Did it say...?!

[HP: 40 ATK: 45 DEF: 38]

Holy shit! Score!

"So...Does that only work in fights?"

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Huh. Guess not. Yet it said every other turn so who knows what that counts as.

I leave to continue all while paying half-attention to my HP. 1 point healing is better than nothing, though it's gonna be a while before I'm healed completely.

It's warm on this level. Still hot but not as bad as level one. Digital cords pulsate with energy from deep down to high above me. And in the distance...a massive mechanical structure. It sits in the lava like a slumbering leviathan. Imposing, mysterious, and giving off the vibes of "STAY THE FUCK AWAY". I better not have to go there.

After a short stroll, I come upon an obstacle or, as monsters put it, a puzzle. There are two conveyor belts, one going forward and the other back towards me. The forward one has three of those thick metal pipes near it and each pipe has a switch. At the end, there's what looks to be a Tesla Coil set up to prevent safe passing. Putting the bits together is easy. I step on the belt and keep walking, flipping the switches as I go. The third flip turns the current off and I can progress.

I regret this.

Literally forty feet away I'm met by those fucking vents. However...beside the vents is a large conveyor belt made of three merged ones. That's moving at the same speed as the one I was just on. Idea time. I dash jump across the belts. Leaping just in case someone somewhere decides to mess with the speed. Lucky me, no dick moves were made and I avoided doing my scarier backup plan of climbing on the support trusses. At least the path is clear now, which is good.

The heat begins to climb as I approach pumping stacks of hot gas. It makes the air thick and hard to breathe. The sooner I get past these things the better. Part of me questions why I don't hoof it on a crawl and then I have to remind that part that the land is inclining upward so it's bloody pointless. My throat is drying out, my lungs burn, and my eyes sting even with the tears trying to soothe the pain. Even the sounds of gears grinding in the background is starting to irritate my senses. But all this just makes me strive forward more to get back to some form of normalcy. Augh...What's my HP at now?

[HP ████████████████████████████████ 32/40]

Not bad. Not bad at all.

"Keep moving, slowpoke."

My blurry eyes spy a white speck among all the orange-brown.

"Bro?"

Something wraps around my wrist and pulls me slowly, leading me like a child helps an elder cross the road. Soon the air is clear and wiping my eyes lets me see Flowey. A very welcoming sight indeed.

"Bro!"

"Good to see you too."

"How did you get up here? The land is broken."

"Not all of it. I pretty much climbed up one high point, crossed over to another, and repeat till I got here. Did you forget how nimble I can be?"

I smack my forehead making him snicker.

"Sometimes it scares me to think how you've managed to not die."

He gets a chuckle out of me.

"Same."

We move on...only to be blocked by two heavily armored guards. One is a rabbit or hare and the other is more of a dragon than butterball was. Adorning fierce, brutal, and intimidating black armor bearing the blood-red Deltarune insignia. On their helms, shoulders, and wrists are jagged threatening spikes. But the real danger that has my attention are the very large swords.

"Are you shitting me?"

"They...aren't supposed to be here."

I look at Flowey funny and he flinches.

"I mean...They don't usually..."

"*mumble* Timeline bullshit. *normal* Fuck it...Yo! Can you two move? We need to reach level three...please?"

I'm sure that saved it from all my attitude.

"Human..."

Nothing good has ever happened to me when someone says "human".

"You're late."

Oh. Well, that's different.

"For...?"

They point their swords at me.

"Your funeral."

"Really? Was that the best you could come up with?"

The rabbit shrugs.

"I thought it was pretty tough."

The dragon punches his arm.

"I told you it was weak."

"It's not like we had a lot of time to come up with something better."

"Right. All the direction Mettaton gave us was 'stall her' while he does stupid crap."

"Let's just get this over with before the Captain finds out."

They rush towards me...then stop. But not a normal stop. They're frozen in place. I look at Flowey, he's stuck in mid-sink into the ground. The hell is going on? It's as if...as if time stopped?

"Sans? Sans, is this you? Where are you?"

White noise, like static on a TV. It pierces my ears as if it were stabbing my very brain. Covering my ears does nothing to stop it. I drop to my knees.

"Sa҉ns͏..̕."

A voice barely solidifies in the sounds assaulting my hearing.

"H͞è's n̢ot he̡r͠e,͟ l͡i̡ttl͡e ͜on̴ę.̨ He ͞can'͏t ̸in̵tęr͜f̛ere҉ w̧i̧th o͝úr̨ f́u͟ņ."

I muster the strength to turn my head and am confronted by a grayed-out monster with a blacked-out face holding a smaller face in its hand. The face looks at me with a small creepy smile. My eyes widen. The face spoke. And it speaks in rhyme. What the fuck?!

"What the hell are you?"

"M̛e? I̕'҉m͠ ͡a ̨f̡o͢l͜l͘ow̵er ̡of̶ ͘the g͠rea͝t Royal͏ ͟Sc͞ien͘t͝i͝st͟,̢ D͜ơc̢tor̕ ̵W̛.D. ̵Gast̀e͞r̀.͘ On̵e day͞,̨ h́e ͝va͝n͞i͡sh̀e͜d͘ w̷itḩou̕t̡ a҉ t́r̶ąc̛e.͝ T̛hey͞ ͠s̡a̢y҉ ̷he ҉s̡hat̕te̶r̷ed ͝ac̛ross̡ ti҉m͠e̴ an͘d̢ ҉s̨pac͘e. Ha H̷a͞.͝..̡ho͠w ̧c̸án I͞ s͠ay̢ s̸o͏ wit͟ho̴u͘t ͘f̶e͟a̸r͘?͝ ̸I'm h̸o͜l͘ding͞ a ̴p̵ie͘ce҉ ͜of̡ h͡im ̶r̶iģht͢ ͢her͞e."

This...This shit right here triggers something primal in me...I get genuinely freaked out. Fleeing like a puppy that just met the big noisy vacuum for the first time. And yeah, this was an overreaction. I've dealt with some insane shit at this point, you'd think I'd be hardened like a soulless speck of dirt. But no. That made me too unsettled and any tough wall I had crumbled. I zoom past the few other frozen in time monsters along the way till I reach the elevator. I spam hit the button, praying it will ignore the fact time is dead and let me in something that I can pretend is safer than out here.

*BING*

A sound other than static? There is a god!

The doors shift open and a grayed-out bird monster with terrible posture along with a grayed-out small humanoid monster stop me in my tracks.

There is no god!

"D͏r.̡ G̴as͝t̶e͠ŕ..͝.͡H̛i͞s brìllia͢n͝cé w͡a҉s̸ ͞irr̷e̶p͞l͞ac͢eabl̨e̶.̷"

"҉W͢hat͏ a̡n ̢áct to ̴foll̕o҉w͟! T́h͘e̷y ̨s͠ay̨ ͏h̶ę c͢r̨eat̛e̴ḑ t͜h͜e͜ ͞C̕O͜R̷E̶."

"Hoẁe͘v͢e̕r, h͜i͏s ͞life҉..͝.̸was ͠c͡u͡t s͘hort."

They say ominously together.

"O͡ne̕ ͟d́a͢y̕,͝ h̵i͟ś ҉ex̵pęri͜m̨e̵ntś w̧ent̡ ̸wr̢on͜g̢, ͡an̡ḑ..̀."

"He̴ fe̸l̢l̡ ̕i͞n̴t͜o ̀hi̵s͡ cr̷eat̀i͢ón̢."

"Węll,̴ ͝w̡e҉ needn̨'͡t͠ gos̕s̕i҉p.̧ A̷f͢t͠e͟r al̵l͏,̷ ҉i̸t'ş ̧rude to ̀tal͡k̨ ab͏o̢u͠t̛ s҉o̵me̢o͘n҉è w̛h͢o̕'s l̷i̕s͢te̡n͢ing.̸"

They grab me and pull me in before my body chooses to run.

"*snarls* Let go you creeps!"

"D̵o̵n't ̕st͠r̴ưg̷gle̵,̧ l͡i͞t̕t̛l҉e o͟n͡e.́"

"̸Yo̷u ͝d͞o͠n͏'t̴ w͡an̸t ̴harm to co͢me̛ to̷ ̡t̀h̢e̵ flo͜wer͞.̡"

Oh fuck...I left Flowey with the creepy face-hand thing. I cease my fighting.

"G҉o͡od͞ ̷ģir̡l."

The doors shut with a quickness.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

They watch as the human and flower are confronted by the two Royal Guards. And of course, they do as they've been trained. Attack the human. But something weird happens. The guards begin to attack and the screen of the TV glitches into static before the picture returns. Only now the guards have stopped their action and the flower, which was retreating from danger, pops back out in confusion along with everyone else. The human is gone. It happened within the blink of an eye. One second she was there and the next she's not. And now the screen cuts to a "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" image. What is going on?

[HOTLAND: LAB]

Undyne and Alphys are equally as perplexed as everyone else that's tuned in.

"Alphys, where did the human go?"

Undyne irritatedly asks through her teeth. On her end, Alphys is switching through camera feeds like crazy.

"I'm looking! I'm looking!"

The screen swaps from camera to camera and multiple different angles. But there's nothing. Sure, there are monsters. Some just going about their lives. Some slacking around. Even an embarrassing shot of a Pyrope shoving a sandwich into the top of a Vulkin. But no sign of the human on level two.

"Where are you, damn it?!"

"Stop!"

Undyne's shout makes Alphys jump.

"Go back five clicks."

And so she does. The feed is an odd far shot from the gas stacks. It can just barely view the guards let alone the flower who suddenly ducks away. The guards seem even more confused.

"What are we looking for?"

Undyne points at the screen and Alphys sighs.

"If I can't see it on my end, you pointing from a distance does nothing for me!"

Undyne growls.

"Look up, genius!"

Alphys leers at the fish-woman before leering at the view she has on her monitor. Due to the far away placement of the camera, it can see up to the platform of level three. And there, dangling over the side, is a pale white arm that stands out over the red platform and gold LED lights scheme.

"The hell...?"

She switches to the level three cameras.

"Ha! I knew I saw something."

With the better view, they now see the human face-down just a few feet from the elevator.

"How the hell did she get up there?"

Alphys gets out her phone and sends a quick text. When there's no reply she presses a button and a moment later is sent a reply. A few messages are sent as Mettaton zooms on screen.

"What? Why's the tin can there now?"

Undyne is out of the loop as usual.

"Who else do you know can zip over there as fast?"

Mettaton pulls the human to the center of the path, away from a stupid falling to death, and checks over her seemingly lifeless body. Her eyes are open and empty as if someone replaced her peepers with billiards cue balls that glow. Marks on her arms look like bruising but weren't there before nor gained in her earlier fight. Then...Alphys gets a text.

"Hmmm..."

"What's up?"

"Vital signs are still going but her breathing has stopped."

She texts back to Mettaton.

"So...She's dead?"

"No. Not yet at least. According to Mettaton, her HP is full and not depleting. However, if she doesn't start breathing, her HP should drain and she will die."

"Then wha...?"

"Look at the TV, dear."

Undyne looks back at the screen to see Mettaton performing chest compressions in patterns.

"With her heart still pumping it means all other functions are still working. It's likely something happened in whatever event that caused her to get up there to give her trauma. The trauma probably made her brain fail to send the right signals to her lungs and thus, she's in respiratory arrest. So I've instructed Mettaton to force her body to restart her breathing manually with basic CPR."

They watch the robot press into her chest for a good couple of minutes before the human suddenly bolts up violently. Mettaton restrains the hysterical woman as the life returns to her eyes, sight restored settles her down some but she appears terribly shaken.

"Ask him if he can get her to tell him what happened."

"Already sent and awaiting reply."

Mettaton appears to speak with her but she either says very little or nothing at all. She merely holds her self in an attempt to cease her trembling and looks out at what bit of the CORE is still visible from that point.

"Huh...He says she isn't telling. At most, she said it's nothing and it just happens sometimes."

"Super vague and avoiding the subject? That kind of shit ain't normal."

Alphys agrees but it's not like they have the human in custody to interrogate for answers. She sends the text.

"The hell?"

Mettaton offers some concern and encouragement before blasting off, leaving the human alone.

"Why's he leaving her?!"

"He did what was needed. Now the show can continue as planned."

Undyne glares.

"That's twice now. You could've let her die."

"I still need more data. Something odd happened and I need to figure it out."

Undyne huffs softly.

"Fine. You know...You can only string someone along for so long before that string breaks, Alphys."

The lizard-woman chuckles.

"Worried about the human? That's cute."

"I wasn't talking about the human."

Undyne guzzles her remaining ramen and Alphys isn't sure how to respond.

"For your sake, the human better be worth all this effort."

She lifts her bowl.

"More."

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3 BEFORE GOING LIVE]

Static. Everything is static. Static is all I see and hear. I can't feel anything. Am I dead? Is this what death is? If it is...It's incredibly boring. At least Hell would have a wicked soundtrack to drone out to while being tortured. Suddenly, I feel something. And it hurts. Like something is bouncing on my chest and pauses a bit before doing it again for longer.

Please...Leave me alone...Let me be...I don't want to go back...Don't make me go back...Please...

"*gasps and coughs*"

My lungs burn in this reawakening but my sight is still static. Purgatory. Pain before Heaven. The sins must be suffered away. This must be what's happening. Hands. I feel hands and panic, stress levels at critical. I take a swing at where I think they are.

"D̕͡oņ͟'̕͝t ̨̀͝to͝͏uch̷́͝ ͘me͘͜!̴̵͝"

There's hesitation before more force is used and I'm pinned to what I assume is a floor. I thrash harshly.

"L̸̀e͢a̡͜v̴͟͢e ͘m̵e͞ ͝al҉̀o̷̴n̴̨e̶̢!̡͞ ̡͡Ḑ͞o͝n̶͝'̨̕t ̢͏̡I ͜s̸̛u͜͜f̵͝f̷͠͝er̛ ̧e͏͜n̢o̵u҉͢͢g̶͡͡ḩ?!͏"

"CALM...I...LYNSIE."

A voice? A normal voice?

"DON'T...ME...RELAX."

The struggling I was doing ends. And as I settle down the static that had blinded me subsides. My location is unknown. But I know the one holding me down.

"M-Metta?"

Seeing I'm normal, Mettaton helps me get back on my feet yet I'm unsettled by...things.

"ARE YOU ALRIGHT, DARLING? WHAT HAPPENED?"

Flashes of memory flicker in my head. Those...things...Followers of Gaster...The things they did...

I hold myself and fight the tears trying to come to my eyes. I don't say a thing.

"LYNSIE...HOW DID YOU GET UP HERE? WHY DID I FIND YOU NOT BREATHING?"

I rub my eyes.

"I need my phone. *shaky inhale* I gotta talk to my mom."

"YOU KNOW I DON'T HAVE IT. AND IF I DID, I'M STILL UNSURE YOU WOULDN'T CALL OUT TO YOUR FRIENDS."

He's not wrong. I wasn't going to call Toriel. I was going to give Sans nightmares with the shit done to me.

"NOW COME ON. YOU CAN TELL ME WHAT'S WRONG."

"...N-Nothing's wrong. This...This just happens sometimes."

He's not buying it. I'm doing a piss poor attempt to play off that I'm fine.

"DARLING, YOU'RE OBVIOUSLY NOT FINE AND ABOUT TO CRY. JUST TALK TO ME. WHAT HAPPENED? YOU VANISHED FROM SIGHT AND ENDED UP HERE AT THE START OF LEVEL THREE COMPLETELY UNCONSCIOUS."

I don't say a word.

"DID SOMEONE USE MAGIC ON YOU? IS YOUR SOUL OKAY?"

I flinch at the mentioning of my soul and refuse any further interaction.

"LYNSIE...?"

I refuse to look at him. He sighs.

"IF IT MEANS ANYTHING, DUE TO TIME CRUNCHING, THE THIRD ACT WAS CANCELED. BETWEEN YOUR STALLING FROM HEIGHTS, ALL THESE RANDOM FIGHT ENCOUNTERS, AND EVENTS OF THE FIRST AND SECOND ACT...CHANGES IN THE PROGRAM HAVE BEEN MADE. HEH...ORIGINALLY, THE THIRD ACT WAS GOING TO HAVE YOU DEFUSE A SERIES OF BOMBS PLACED AROUND THE AREA WITHIN A TIME LIMIT. YET EVEN I THOUGHT THAT WAS UNFAIR. THAT AND THE SCRIPT FOR IT WAS JUST AWFUL. NO WAY AM I DISGRACING MYSELF WITH SUCH A POORLY DIRECTED SHOW."

I guess that is some good news. It's probably why he had those guards posted there to stall me.

"BUT...I DO HAVE SOME BAD NEWS."

This gets me to look at him.

"FROM HERE, IN THE NEXT ROOM YOU WILL FIND A SEEMINGLY CHARMING SPIDER NAMED MUFFET. SHE'S A CUNT."

Well, that escalated quickly.

"SHE'S THE LEADER OF THE SPIDERS IN THE UNDERGROUND AND RUNS A SUPPOSED BAKERY. IT'S A FRONT. SHE'S AN EXTORSHINISH. SHE'LL SAY AND DO ANYTHING IF IT MEANS SHE'LL GET GOLD. CLAIMS THE MONEY IS NEEDED TO SAVE THE SPIDERS IN THE RUINS OR SOMETHING STUPID LIKE THAT."

"It sounds like you don't like her very much."

"NO, NOT REALLY. I COULD CARE LESS WHAT SHE DOES. THE THING THAT PISSES ME OFF IS THAT SHE PREYS ON MY WORKERS, KILLS THE ONES THAT CAN'T PAY HER OUTRAGEOUS FEES, AND, WORST OF ALL, SHE REFUSED TO DEAL WITH ME!"

I tilt my head.

"I HAVE TRIED TIME AND TIME AGAIN TO GET HER TO SELL FOOD UNDER MY BRAND. BUT SHE SAYS MY NAME WOULD ACTUALLY MAKE HER LOSE GOLD. SERIOUSLY? THE AUDACITY OF THAT BITCH. I PRACTICALLY OWN HOTLAND AND SHE HAS THE NERVE TO UTTER SUCH SHIT!"

His screen flashes for a moment before he calms down.

"YET DESPITE THAT...KNOWING YOU AND HOW YOU HANDLE DIFFICULT MONSTERS, I'M CONFIDENT YOU CAN GET BY HER WITH LITTLE ISSUE."

"...You have that much faith in me?"

He spins on his wheel.

"WOULD YOU TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED IF I SAY I DO?"

My dower expression answers him for me.

"WELL, IT WAS WORTH A TRY."

His wheel retracts to fly.

"WE WILL MEET AGAIN FOR THE FOURTH ACT...PROVIDED YOU SURVIVE THE SPIDERS. YOU'RE NOT AFRAID OF SPIDERS, ARE YOU?"

"I was when I was a kid. I got over it."

"GOOD. YOU SHOULD BE FINE THEN."

He comes over and, to my surprise, gives me a small embrace.

"I BELIEVE IN YOU, LYNSIE."

My throat tightens, I couldn't speak even if I wanted to. He takes off and I wait for when he's out of sight to breakdown.

[SNOWDIN: Skeleton House in present time]

The "We Are Experiencing Technical Difficulties" screen cuts away. The human has been located. She appears to be on a different level and is a wreck. Down on her hands and knees, sobbing intangible pleas. Something has happened and it wasn't good.

Toriel gasps softly.

"tori? what's wrong?"

She covers her mouth and points. Sans sees it now. Papyrus even spies it before Grillby. The hands. The harsh imprints darkening the snow colored skin.

"Those marks...They would sometimes appear in her sleep. Why are they there now?"

Grillby shoots a look at Sans and he decides to get his buddy off his back.

"she had those marks while with us too. but if you look closely, these marks are different. there's no hole in the palm. plus...there are two sets."

"HMMM...AN AMBUSH PERHAPS? BUT WHAT KIND OF MAGIC CAN ALLOW FOR SUCH A SNEAK ATTACK AND THEN VANISH ELSEWHERE?"

Grillby continues to leer at Sans.

"what?"

"Sounds like teleporting to me. Anyone you know can do that?"

Sans glares.

"no. only i can teleport."

"Are you sure?"

"yeah. i'm sure. knock it off."

Papyrus cocks his brow. This might require his attention if things escalate.

"I'll knock it off when you come clean."

"i ain't hiding shit."

"Bullshit. You've been holding back so much that even your brother doesn't know just how much you do. If you don't know, then you don't know, but if one thing we've figured about you tonight...It's that you hide what you know all the damn time. So you've got to give us something better if you want us to believe you."

Sans balls his fist.

"us? or you? don't start connecting dots to points that don't exist because you want answers that no one can give to make yourself feel better."

"Then tell me who it was that hurt her before. Maybe they know who did it this time."

That line. That line got heads to turn.

"Sans? You know who has been harming my child?"

It's times like these Sans wished he was able to RESET.

"no, i don't."

"That's not what you told me."

"i only said what i did to get you off my back. ya were all upset about the marks and..."

"Of course I was upset about the marks! What guy wouldn't?!"

Papyrus snarkily lifts a finger, admitting his lack of concern but not wanting to get involved in this.

"maybe instead of pointing fingers, you should question why she didn't tell ya about'em herself. because if she doesn't even tell her mom about shit like this, what makes ya think she tells me?"

Grillby had to pause at that.

"Is it that one of them hurt you?"

"What?"

"You're ignoring them, but that doesn't make them invisible to anyone else. Did they do this? Papyrus I can believe, but I have doubts on Sans. But if they did this to you..."

"They didn't. This is a whole different issue."

"Don't defend your abuser."

"I'm not defending shit. It's my problem, I can deal with it. Don't make this a big deal."

"It is a big deal!"

"*wince* You're hurting me."

"..."

"Like I said...That's a different issue that I will deal with. Not you. Are we clear?"

"Y-Yes."

Maybe Sans had a point. Knowing how others would react keeps one from talking about such things, especially when it's not a reaction that is easily dealt with. Toriel and Grillby have proven to overreact when it comes to the human. She probably thought it best to keep such pain to herself to avoid added damage. But still...Something didn't sit right with Grillby. Sans knew something. What it was he knew not.

"IF YOU'RE DONE WITH YOUR POINTLESS BICKERING, THE HUMAN IS ON THE MOVE NOW."

Attention once more fell back to the television.

[HOTLAND: LEVEL 3]

My body aches. The crying did little to ease me. Sure I vented, that's always good. But I don't feel any better for doing so. My arms stings. My soul throbs in agony. My every nerve demands relief that will never seem to come. I look at the bruises. I can still feel their hold. I don't know how long it happened for or how long after till I was found, yet I can still feel their filthy hands. It's too much. Make it stop!

I take my gloves off and dig my nails across the full stretch of my arms. I don't care about bleeding. I just want to stop feeling their hands. The strange energy begins to crackle around me as it did once before.

[HP ████████████████████ 20/40]

It...It finally went away. That's good. Now if only the memory could be removed. Can't claw my brain unfortunately. Oh well. Perhaps I'll find something to bash my head against. Won't that be fun?

I take my leave. Flesh under my now gloved nails and blood trickling down my arms, making a trail behind me.

A few short steps have me in a more inhabited spot. The monsters here give me strange looks. Maybe it's because of the self-mutilation. Or maybe it was spine chilling wailing. Or both. Or random other shit. Either way, I keep to myself and press onward.

"Oh, yoohoo, human~..."

Ah, fuck my life with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole!

"You look like you can use some healing items. Come, I don't bite...well...maybe ONE little nibble~."

...Why do I attract the kinky weirdos?!

This is the spider-lady Mettaton was talking about. She has periwinkle or lavender skin, five eyes, six arms, and two legs. She wears red rompers with yellow buttons in the front, a red ribbon across her chest, as well as large wild twin pigtails in her black hair tied by red bows. She is also holding two teacups with her top pair of hands and two teapots with her middle pair, her bottom pair of hands hide under her little table.

"Welcome to our parlor, dearie~. Interested in some spider pastries? All proceeds go to real spiders~. Check out the webs to make a purchase~."

I'm so not in the mood for this.

"Ms. Spider..."

"No need for formalities, dearie~. Call me Muffet."

"Muffet...I'm gonna be nice yet blunt. So I apologize in advance if I tick you off at any point because that's not my intent. *shaky inhale* I have been battered, beaten, abducted, blasted, and brought near death more than usual today. And normally, I'd roll with it and let you do this 'thing' it is you're gonna do...But not now."

She opens her mouth to speak and I slam my hands on the tabletop.

"I have just spent an ungodly amount of time trapped in that elevator over there having my soul violated by people that don't even exist anymore on this plane of reality. I have clawed my skin off to stop feeling their hands on me. So, please...Not now."

I can feel that energy get stronger. The odd display bugs her yet she continues.

"My, how dreadful. That's a terrible tale you tell, human. And such a silly one to explain your disappearing act."

My eye twitches. Does she...Does she think I made that up?

"That Mettaton is certainly putting more effort into his effects for this show. It's about time too. That metal moron can't act to save his batteries."

I want to hit her.

"Anyway...Can I interest you in some of my 100% all-natural treats? Food made by spiders, for spiders, of spiders!"

...Wait a second?

"Of spiders? So...You're killing your own kind...for pastries?"

She simply smiles innocently.

"...Are they at least dead or dying ones?"

Her giggle is not reassuring.

"Go on, dearie~. Have a nice donut and wash it down with some cider. You'll heal faster than ever before. And all for the low low price of 9999G...each."

My nerves are shot. Were they always called donuts and not doughnuts? What the fuck?!

"Lady, that is the biggest crock of shit I have ever had the misfortune to step in."

All of her eyes glare at me.

"Beg your pardon?"

"This same 'bake sale' is being done by the spiders in the Ruins. Do you wanna know what the prices are there? Donuts are 7G and Ciders are 18G. Where the hell do you get off charging that much for food that works on cannibalism?"

I point at her in judgment.

"You're sick, lady! This is fucked up."

She hisses at me.

"Seems humans are awfully stingy with money. Don't know a good deal when it's in their face."

I look at her cockeyed.

"Stingy with money? Bitch, did you not hear the words coming out of my mouth?!"

She laughs in my face.

"Ahuhuhuhu...You think your taste is too refined for our pastries, don't you, deary?"

"...Sure. Whatever. You're not listening anyway."

"Ahuhuhu...I disagree with that notion. I think your taste...Is exactly what this next batch needs!"

She stares at me creepily and licks her lips.

"Oh hell nah!"

I flip the table on her and run. She's not happy.

"Get back here!"

"Fuck you!"

I look back to see if she's following and crash into a guy.

"Hey, watch where you're going."

"Sorry. I was just..."

My blood runs cold seeing the monster I've bumped. This guy...This guy is a dead ringer for the creepy gray dude with the face in his hand. The only difference being he's in color.

"*scoff* Weirdo."

He walks to where Muffet is but I can't move. My heart begins pounding. Flashes of memory play before my eyes. I can't breathe fast enough. Gaster, for all the shit he does, isn't as bad as the Followers.

MAKE IT STOP! M̴A͝KÉ IT͜ S͢T͡O͜P!!͘ MA̡̛͜K̶͢E͝ ̢I̡͝T̡҉̧ ́͠S̷͡T͝OP̵!!̛͏! M̢̡A̸̧̛͞͝K̢̨҉É̶̡̢͏ ͜͝͡I̸̧̨̕T̴ ̶̕͞S͜͢T̵͡Ǫ͝҉҉҉P̨̛͞!̶!̕͘͟!̷̨͟͝͡!̕͟

[WARNING]

[SOUL destabilization detected]

[HEARTBREAK immanent]

W͏ai̕t̸.̀.̢.̸Wha̧t doe̴s̛ t̨ha͝t ̨meàn̶?͡

[HEARTBREAK is the condition in which the SOUL will damage itself due to instability or loss of HOPE]

[There are three levels of the HEARTBREAK condition]

[Level ONE: the SOUL forms a crack, it starts small which can be healed easily]

[Level TWO: the crack on the SOUL spreads, damage taken is increased and needs intensive care to be repaired]

[Level THREE: the SOUL shatters and death accrues]

...Serious?

[Current status: PENDING HEARTBREAK]

[PENDING HEARTBREAK: the SOUL weakens and its color dulls]

[Most MONSTERS in the UNDERGROUND have this state due to a loss of HOPE which is the main trait in MONSTER SOULS]

So...I can die from my soul hurting itself because of my inability to cope with the shit that happened?

[Correct]

...Fuck. Well...I should make a last will. Because I'm gonna die.

*STATIC* DARLING? ARE YOU OKAY? YOU NEED TO KEEP MOVING.

Mettaton's voice in my ear causes the shackles of trauma to release me...for now.

I slap myself. Gotta focus. Do this and get to go home. Concentrate. Don't fuck up! The energy around me slowly dissipates.

"Human!"

Looking back I see Muffet coming at me.

"Someone's stealing from the register!"

Her concern for money outweighs her need to kill me and I use this to escape. Much to my annoyance, this part of the path ends with more of those damn vents and they of course split off into three ways, one being a big as hell closed door.

"...I fucking hate Hotland."

I sigh. Taking in the vent platforms and noting that the gap between them is the smallest size ever. No need to run, jump, or use them. I merely walk onto the next platform and can do so for all of them. I choose to take the right side first. Why not? Not like it makes a difference. It leads me to a conveyor belt that has three blue lasers. I ride it to the end without harm. I guess Metta's budget for puzzles is running low if this is what I have to deal with. This leads me to a familiar room with, what a surprise, the same shooting puzzle from the last time I had to unlock a big fucking door.

"Now this is just lazy."

I look for the instructions.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

Well...Maybe that's something.

This puzzle has the blocks in a four by five state. Eleven blocks are solid and four can be moved around. The four moving blocks move all at once like they're connected. The open spaces are pretty fair if I have to give it some credit. I move to the right, up, right, down twice, right twice, down, left, down, and finally end it by firing through the clear path.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"Don't tell me it's the same on the other side."

I head out and take the other conveyor belt back to the vents, passing a random cactus in the process. I swear if this shit keeps up I'm going to lose my mind. No! No...I need to calm down and relax. I don't need the stress. My soul is in rough shape as is. Now it's at risk of damage without my conscious input. I wish I had my music. That would really help. Maybe a little Green Day or Linkin Park. Oh! My Chemical Romance!

*BONK*

It would seem I didn't pay attention and walked into the puzzle room, kicking the machine by accident.

(Shoot the opposing ship!)

(You have just one shot.)

"God dingle damn it bull honkery."

I hate copy & paste design. The board is larger, five by five. Ten solid blocks and six movable ones, everything else is empty space. Right, up, right, down twice, right, right/up, up/right, up twice, right, up, and fire.

(CONGRATULATIONS!)

"...I'm so sick of this crap it ain't even funny."

I shove my hands in my pockets and leave...only to see two diamond-headed monsters just hanging out, one light-purple and the other a super light-green. Did I really walk by them?

"I've been thinking about getting a sick skateboard."

"Really? That's cool I guess. ...So...What's your fave Mettaton Moment(TM)?"

"My fave Mettaton Moment(TM)? Right when everything looks the baddest, he poses dramatically. Like when he's on a cooking show and the eggs don't turn out right. But! Then he says...Even if you suck at cooking, you can always buy an MTT-brand Glamburger! Then he eats one! Everyone loves it!"

"...How does he eat it without a mouth?"

"Uhhh...well...Watch the show!"

"Well, my fave Mettaton Moment(TM) is when he beats up the heel-turning villains! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a quiz show. Oh! And I like when he tries on all kinds of different fashionable outfits! Even if it's during what's supposed to be a newscast."

I wonder if I can get a chuckle out of these two.

"Sounds like you two really know your stuff about Mettaton."

They turn to look at me, they look like teenagers based on their clothes.

"Totally."

"No one's a bigger fan than us."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah! He's currently broadcasting live. And with a Human! We can finally get to the surface!"

"On the surface, we'll be able to watch all kinds of TV...But, I bet none of those shows are as good as Mettaton's!"

"You don't say. Then...Could you describe this human? I don't want to miss seeing it."

The green one goes for his phone.

"Let me see if it's back on and we'll show you. Some crazy stuff happened and the feed cut off a bit ago."

I smile and wait for it. I can't read their faces, but it's very clear when the green one goes to his buddy and shows him the screen. Looks are shot at me. I merely give a friendly wave.

"Dude..."

"We're on TV!"

At least someone's happy about it.

"Wait...Then that means..."

"You're the human?"

I shrug.

"What...What happened to you?"

"You're like all messed up and junk."

I shrug again.

"You know...Messed up crud. Being human ain't all that and or fun. But don't worry about it. Just enjoy the show. Metta's doing his best to make it epic as hell."

I walk past them.

"Oh! Before I go...Don't copy any of the stuff aired at home. You'd probably get in trouble if you blast people for getting trivia wrong or use chainsaws while cooking."

I give a thumbs-up as I go. Vaguely hoping to look badass. With the door open it shouldn't be long till all this nonsense is over and I can go home. I wonder though...Can Flowey get up here? The floor is artificial, so I don't know if he can traverse it. I hope he's okay. Poor fella's probably losing his mind wondering where I went. Then again, he's a clever cookie and knows his way around the Underground better than anyone.

[The smell of cobwebs fills the air...]

Huh?

*sniff*

"What smells like freshly baked tarantulas?"

...Oh shit.

The room past the door is littered with webbing and spiders are dangling from the ceiling.

"...Fuck my life."

Smelling a trap I attempt to get through this room as fast as I can. But the webbing on the floor accumulates on my shoes and eventually, I'm unable to take a step. Struggling only made things worse.

"Ahuhuhuhu..."

Damn it! Damn it all to hell!!

"Did you hear what they just said? They said a human in tacky clothes will come through."

"Well, fuck you too."

"I heard that they hate spiders."

"What?!"

"I heard that they love to stomp on them."

"That is a bald-faced lie!"

"I heard that they like to tear their legs off."

"Slander! The levels of bullshit in here are off the charts!"

"I heard..."

Muffet comes down like a Charlotte's Web reject onto a large web. Smaller spiders dangle beside her and block the path ahead as well as behind me.

"...that they're incredibly stingy with their money. Ahuhuhuhu."

My fucks are all gone.

"You're mom was a hoe and ate your dad."

Her face blanks before burning with rage.

"You're fucking dead meat!"

[SPIDER DANCE begins to play in the background.]

My dull yellow soul comes out.

[Muffet traps you!]

"Oh, like this is fair. I can't move and you bring out a freaking gang. I mean, what are the damn rule anymore?!"

"Oh don't look so blue, my deary~."

She spins silk to entangle my soul then bites the end of a strand, her magic venom flows down the strand and coats the heart. Forcibly changing the trait and color.

"...I think purple is a better look on you! Ahuhuhu~."

This feels so wrong.

"Why is everyone messing with my soul today?!"

Her spider underlings draw webbing in strings in horizontal lines. These lines are also infused with the purple magic and attract my soul.

[You're trapped in a strange purple web!]

"Here's the deal, dearie~...A spider will appear to the right between each turn, holding a sign that presents the density and type of attack that will come after your turn. Now while you can't move, your pretty little soul can, and you'll have to move it along or switch between the three strings to avoid attacks. There will only be three strings. No more, no less. How's that for fair~?"

I mull it over.

"...Not bad actually. Who goes first?"

"You. I want to see what you can do."

She's a smart one, I'll give her that. Let's see my options.

[FIGHT]

[ACT]

[̴͝SP͜͞E͡L̵͜L͟͠͏]͘͢

[ITEM]

[MERCY]

That button is giving me weird vibes the more I see it.

[ACT selected.]

[New options available.]

[CHECK]

[STRUGGLE]

[PAY 10G]

Pay? Fuck that! I earned this gold. Mine!

[CHECK selected.]

[MUFFET – HP: 1250 ATK: 38.8 DEF: 18.8 – If she invites you to her parlor, excuse yourself.]

And she's better in the stat department than the butterdragon.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. The hell does that mean?

"Why so pale? You should be proud~."

"With the amount of blood I've lost today it would make me look like a corpse. But be proud of what?"

"Why...Proud that you're going to make a delicious cake~! Ahuhuhu~!"

Spiders begin crawling across the threads. It's like a weird form of Frogger minus hopping to safety. It's a simple move and I come out of it fine.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

Sweet, my HP is full. I love this nasty apron!

[All the spiders clap along to the music.]

It is a catchy tune, no lie. But I need to get out of this. It's not like all of me is unable to move.

[ACT selected.]

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet covers her mouth and giggles at you.]

...Bitch.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider. Okay, I know what that means now.

"Look at you. Trying to break free. It's so cute~."

"Would it help if I asked nicely? Please let me go?"

"Let you go? Don't be silly~. Your SOUL is going to make every spider very happy~~!"

Spiders cross the lines and it oddly seems like there was less this time. Making it easier.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet does a synchronized dance with the other spiders.]

"You know...Someone warned us about you...Offered us a LOT of money for your SOUL."

This gets my attention.

"What?"

"Oh yes~. They had such a sweet smile~ and...Ahuhuhu~. It's strange, but I swore I saw them in the shadows...Changing shape...?"

The hell? Wait...She can't mean one of the Followers...Can she? Stop it! Don't think about them! Don't!

"Oh well. It's not like it matters anyway. Your move, dearie~."

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet laughs and claps her hands.]

"Still trying, huh? Still thing. Don't you know spider silk is five times stronger than steel?"

I can not get a break today.

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of two spiders. What?

Double the spiders come on the strings at the same time. It's somehow a new move yet works too similar to the normal attack to be tricky. I dodge it fairly well.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

[Muffet pours herself a cup of spiders.]

...I didn't need to see that. No one needs to see a large spider drink smaller spiders like they were tea.

"*sip* With the money from you SOUL, the spider clans can finally be reunited~."

I tilt my head.

"What do you mean?"

"You haven't heard? Spiders have been trapped in the RUINS for generations!"

Obvious thing is obvious.

"Can't they, you know, squeeze out through the door?"

"*scoff* Even if they go under the door, Snowdin's fatal cold is impassable alone."

It is pretty cold there. Then they'd have to travel through two zones to get here. Damn, that sucks.

"But with the money from your SOUL, we'll be able to rent them a heated limo~. And with all of the leftovers...? We could have a nice vacation~! Or even build a spider baseball field~!"

What little sympathy I was gaining dies at that.

"Now you're just spending to show off."

"But enough of that...It's time for dinner, isn't it? Ahuhuhu~."

*Growls*

I look around and see nothing. I don't like this.

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Nothing happened.]

"Don't struggle too much. You'll make yourself all sweaty. No one wants a sweaty donut."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a spider and a donut?

The spiders come crawling faster than before even if their numbers aren't as much, then they are followed by random donuts being thrown by the spiders blocking the pathways. This almost had me. Came close, but no cigar.

[HP ██████████████████████████████████████████ 40/40]

I'm proud of my dodging skills. I've come a long way.

[Muffet tidies up the web around you.]

If you don't like crumbs, don't throw food. It's very simple.

*Growls*

There's that sound again. I really don't like it. Muffet does though.

"You look concerned."

"Are you saying you don't hear the growling?"

She giggles.

"Oh, how rude of me! I almost forgot to introduce you to my pet~."

I'm puzzled. What kind of pet does a spider have?

"Oh, my pet~...Looks like it's time for dessert~."

I can hear rapid heavy skittering. Not good! Not good!

[STRUGGLE selected.]

[You struggle to escape the web. Muffet is so amused by your antics that she gives you a discount!]

"Tell you what...If you survive my pet, I just might consider sparing you."

"R-Really? That might actually be the f...Holy fucking shit!!"

*Roar*

An abomination appears. A hideous cupcake spider thing emerges from the webs.

"What the fuck is that thing?!"

"This is my pet. Have fun, you two~."

A spider drops down and holds a sign...It's a picture of a cupcake. I don't like this at all!

So many spiders speed by in an unchanging pattern of fear and with good reason. The freaky food beast climbs down and begins eating the strings, pulling my soul towards its hungry maw. This causes spiders that were already on their way to fall prey to this creature as I desperately do my best to not get hit or be dragged to what I assume is instant death. But I'm too panicked to be perfect in my dodging.

[HP ████ 4/40]

Six...I took six hits. I'm gonna die.

[Your soul can't take much more of this.]

No? Really?! Like I couldn't fucking tell!

"You're still alive? Ahuhuhu~...That's impressive~."

She calls her pet to her side.

"Got way too worked up...*gag* I think...*gag* I think I'm gonna puke. *hic*"

"...Please don't. Do you know how hard vomit is to clean out of webbing?"

I take a moment to settle down.

"*sigh* Don't lie...Spiders eat their webbing when it gets messed up."

She cringes.

"Yeah...I don't know everything about spiders. But I do know random gross stuff like that."

I shake off the impending dizziness.

"So...Are you going to spare me?"

She thinks for a moment.

"I will..."

Maybe there is a god?

"For the small fee of 500G~."

Nope. God's dead.

"Are you kidding me?! I'm fucking broke! "

I ain't telling her I have money.

"Then I guess we're going to be spending more quality time together, dearie~ I do hope you're feeling comfortable trapped in that web. Ahuhuhuhu~! Because I don't mind keeping you here for as long as it takes~!"

Damn it. I don't have time for this crap. Wait a second...Time? Heh...This gives me an idea.

"Say, Muffet...Who's watching your bake sale stand while you're here?"

She folds her upper arms.

"A loyal family member. Why do you ask?"

I chuckle softly.

"Oh, no reason. Just checking."

Her eyes cock.

"Checking?"

"Well, we've been here a long time. At least, you have because you got here before me. And we're far from your stand too. It would be a real shame if someone took your 'donations' while this fight was happening."

She sneers.

"Dearie, you're not going to fool me again with that trick. No one would dare steal from me."

I smirk.

"That's the thing...It's not YOU they'd stealing from now is it? It's some other weaker spider."

Her expression gains some worry.

"Even if that spider is loyal, can you honestly say it can defend the money if, let's say, a group stormed the table?"

Concern crosses her face and her pet nudges her as it picks up the vibes.

"Then...Then I'll kill you quickly and return before some fool even tries!"

I shake my head at her.

"Yeah, that would be a thing you could do. But...You can't."

"Wha...What do you mean I can't? You have four HP left! One more hit and your SOUL is mine!"

I put my hands in my pockets and rock on my heels.

"True. So very true. Yet...It's not your turn."

Her eyes widen, finally picking up on my little plan.

"Here's the thing...I've been in enough fights to understand how they work. It all functions on a turn-based system. It's a very fair means of doing combat. No one can attack at random, only when it's their turn. Heh...But the kicker is, and I think you know where I'm going with this...There's no time limit on turns. So if I want to...as long as I don't do anything...my turn will never end. And we'll be stuck here, locked like this...forever!"

Now it's her turn to feel panic.

"You're bluffing."

I grin.

"How much are you willing to bet on that? Because I wager your clan won't take losing all their hard-earned gold due to your negligence very well. They may think a new leader is needed if that happens."

I yawn and stretch to get cozy, showing I'm more than willing to stay put. She twitches with nervousness.

"So tell us, Muffet...What's it gonna be?"

Based on my understanding of Muffet, she's a greedy, stingy, intimidating, malicious, and somehow hypocritical monster, although having a courteous and sweet way of speaking. She won't stay. The odds don't favor her.

Her pet looks at her, the spiders turn to her, the pressure is almost visible as it smothers her. She balls her six fists and stomps her foot in a fit.

"Fine! I'll SPARE you!"

"For free?"

She grinds her teeth.

"Yes, for free! Just quit stalling and confirm it!"

[Muffet is sparing you and refuses your money.]

I can be super evil when I have the chance.

[MERCY selected.]

[SPARE selected.]

[YOU WON!]

[You earned 0 XP and 0 gold.]

The webbing around my soul dissolves. As does the stuff around my feet. My soul turns a dull orange and returns to my body.

"There, you're free. Now get lost!"

"I'm glad we could have such a fun time together, dear."

She snarls and hops onto her pet.

"Next time, you won't get away so easily."

"And maybe next time you'll be paying me for my amazing entertainment skills."

I think channeled Mettaton for a moment. She bites back some harsh unladylike remarks and rides off. I look at the spiders that block my way out.

"Move...please."

They're hesitant but do so.

"Thank you."

I take a few steps but stop near them, pulling out a small handful of gold.

"I don't know if what she said was true, but...here."

I put the gold on the ground and take my leave, pulling a bottle of cider from my inventory to heal.

"Consider it an addition to the amount I've already paid in the Ruins."

The spiders are confused but I hear them take the gold. I can be evil, yes. But it's not true to my nature. I drink the whole bottle as I enter a new, hopefully lacking in spiders, area.

[HP ████████████████████████████ 28/40]

Not bad. I'll fully heal up soon. This new area appears to have the same material as the Ruins. I'm getting homesick. I miss Toriel. I miss Flowey. I miss my bed. I want to go home.

My melancholy blinds me to my current surroundings. I only come out of it once a spotlight hits me.

"The hell...?"

Things look funny. No doubt it's a setup by Mettaton. But I'm unsure what this act is. I mean, it looks like a receptionist's waiting room. A desk and some random chairs.

"GOOD EVENING, LADIES AND GENTS...!"

Mettaton zips in wearing a red suit and shoves me in a chair as he takes center stage.

"FIRST AND FOREMOST, WE HERE AT MTTTV WOULD LIKE TO APOLOGIZE FOR THE LACK OF ME OVER THE COURSE OF THE PROGRAM. DUE TO THE LACK PREP WORK WITH MY COSTAR HERE, WE SADLY HAD TO FORGO A THRILLING ACT BACK IN LEVEL TWO INVOLVING HUNDREDS OF EXPLOSIVES!!"

I so freaking called it. I should let him have his moment...Nah!

"I thought you said that act was shit anyway?"

He extends an arm to cover my mouth.

"FORGIVE HER. SHE'S LOST A LOT OF BLOOD AND NOT ALL THERE MENTALLY."

I leer at him flatly.

"BUT...DARLING HERE IS GOING TO MAKE AMENDS WITH US ALL RIGHT NOW. IT'S TIME TO ANSWER SOME BURNING QUESTIONS."

I'm so confused as he lets go and leaps onto the desk, posing dramatically.

"IT'S TIME FOR..."

A large neon sign shaped like him drops from the ceiling.

"BURNING THE MIDNIGHT OIL WITH A KILLER ROBOT! THE LATE NIGHT TALK SHOW HOSTED BY YOURS TRULY."

Huh. Not a bad title.

"I thought you were working on a courtroom trial program?"

He scoots to now sit behind the desk.

"UNFORTUNATELY, WHILE I DO HAVE THE FUNDS, I DON'T HAVE AVAILABLE WORKERS TO MAKE SUCH A SET. SO...WE'RE DOING THIS INSTEAD."

"Heh...Must be hard to meet your expectations."

"DARLING, YOU HAVE NO IDEA."

A tense dramatic score plays.

"SO, DARLING...ARE YOU READY TO TELL ME EVERYTHING?"

Ah. I see now. Fine, Metta, have it your way. Just be careful what you wish for. You may not like it. Now don't get me wrong. I know my limits. I'm not about to tell him EVERYTHING. I'm not that stupid. But if he wants truth, he's going to get a version that's missing some characters and other junk.

"As you wish. You wanna know the truth? You want to scar the entire Underground? Sure. Why not. What else do I have to lose at this point since you exposed me? So congratulations! I hope you like the prize you've been longing to get. Because I sure as hell don't."

Let the show commence.

[alwaysanotherrainbow]

my boyfriend never texts first

Remus just wants to not be the first one to send a message every once in a while. That’s not too much to ask, right?

relationship: romantic remrom, background remy and emile (also romantic)

warnings: major character death, extended mourning (secondary warnings- brief discussion of religious holidays, brief underage drinking mention, a lot of all-caps) notes: unrelated, human, hs/college au. virgil, emile, and remy are here too. If you need anything in the secondary warnings (or one of those latter three characters) edited out, please let me know and I can put that up for you!

____________________________________________________

Remus always texted him first. Always. It didn’t matter the situation, didn’t matter the time date place name face. Who what when where why. It first started when he texted hi roman :) when they first got phones; for whatever reason, Roman just never texted first. Either he’d call or they’d talk in person.

No matter. Remus could cope.

May 1:

8:37 PM tody i saw you by my locker 8:39 PM *today 8:42 PM why didnt you say hi?

May 2:

9:30 PM a teacher talked to me today 9:30 PM wanted to talk about how i’m doing after 9:52 PM well you know. he’s a sick bastard

Really, it wasn’t too much to ask for, was it? He just wanted to see him text first once in a while! May 7:

3:32 PM: by the way idk if you got this last time 3:36 PM: my class ring size is the medium 3:44 PM: hopefully you order it by the deadline :P 4:03 PM: no idea when the deadline is 4:20 PM: bLAZE IT 4:24 PM: sorry i have like 0 money so i got it from the consignment shop 4:31 PM: i hope you like synthetic rubies!! leaving them with ur dad 10:40 PM: update. i cried for four hours with your dad.

June 2:

7:30 AM: gRaDuAtIoN dAy!!! 7:32 AM: there’s cookies in the reception menu 7:35 AM: snickerdoodles your favorite [eyes] 10:02 AM: i’m getting some for u 10:05 AM: [kissy face] 7:40 PM: the announcement was Weird 7:43 PM: anyways i have the snickerdoodles (Remus couldn’t go over to where Roman was staying, so he left them in the living room. He knew Roman would appreciate them. Hopefully he’d come over (wait, probably not, given...))

Well, actually, he could understand why he never texted first. June 11:

12:14 PM: roMAN 12:16 PM: [Attachment: Remus_Picani-Kleitman_Acceptance_Letter.pdf] 12:18 PM: YEAHHHH 12:24 PM: I’m sure you got in too SEND ME YOURS WHEN YOU GET IT 12:32 PM: WE MIGHT SHARE A ROOM YEA 12:35 PM: [Attachment: celebration.jpg]

Everyone was probably saying that he ought to just move on, but to be honest, he couldn’t... Actually, to be honest, no-one had told him to move on to his face yet. In fact, everyone was surprised he was doing so well, given how bad the circumstances were! The situation was stressing him out so much, even his dads were gently advising him to rethink things. (Well, that was part of the territory with one of them being a therapist and the other being a barista.)

“I got y’all some kouign-amann from the cafe,” said Dad, putting it down on the counter. His shirt had SLEEP scrawled on it with a Sharpie; it was the one that Remus had made for him as a joke. He still wore it. Huh.

“Sweetie, what’s a queen amahn?” asked Papa.

“It’s a... er, it’s like a... this is kinda like a croissant that had dreams of a muffin tin and salted caramel. One for you, babe.... then one for Doodlebug-”

“Can I leave some for Roman?” asked Remus.

They exchanged a glance.

“Of course you can,” said Papa with a smile. “Your candle’s on the table. Also, I got the news about being accepted into university? Good job, kiddo. You know, that was your father’s alma mater.”

“Are you sure you want to go to school right away after...? No problem taking a gap year.”

Papa glared at Dad. “Be nice.”

“I’m sorry, Remus, it’s just...” Dad put down his coffee. “If you’re not ready, if you need more time-”

"I’m sure,” said Remus with a grin, trying to get rid of what he just remembered. “Trust me.”

“Please find a good way to put away the snickerdoodles, they’ve been there since last week!” shouted Papa.

June 12:

12:12 AM: its twelve twelve make a wish 12:15 AM: hey when does your phone bill go out? 12:20 AM: im just saying that would Explain some things 12:22 AM: i know your dad pays Everything like a year in advance 12:34 AM: tell him i say hi 12:34 AM: 12:34 MAKE A WISH

July 12:

3:30 PM: guess who’s a double major in bio and theatre!! 3:32 PM: marine biology babey 3:53 PM: it’s good for the SOUL 4:04 PM: this cute octopus reminded me of you by the way 4:10 PM: [Attachment: for_roman]

August 14:

6:24 PM: moving in is the Worst 6:32 PM: by the way i got a single 6:35 PM: no roommates 6:41 PM: still have the bunk tho 6:44 PM: also got ur favorite pillo

August 30:

2:12 AM: roman it is like two o’clock in the morning what the Heck are you doing here, 2:15 AM: if u see me wave Hi 2:32 AM: ok >:c 2:42 AM: dont mind Me just studyin on top of the planetarium 3:15 AM: tbh i didn’t even know we go to the same campus? haven’t seen you around or anything 3:17 AM: shit phones gonna di

September 28:

2:20 PM: i failed my test 2:22 PM: idk what to d 2:24 PM: *do

September 29: 7:30 PM: remember that octopus you gave me that eats negative emotions? 7:32 PM: it works!!

October 3:

1:10 PM:  You’d like the theatre program, really 1:15 PM: just so u know they’ve listed your name as an ‘honorary member of the class of’ 1:19 PM: that’s really nice of them. idk if your dad knows

October 23:

9:45 AM: i had to explain one of our inside jokes 8( 9:52 AM: i can’t Explain the deodorant thing that was One Time 9:55 AM: also why i’m called The Duke 9:56 AM: its bc you said it. not my fault 9:58 AM: its still cute pls call me that still 9:59 AM: pancake brunch pancake brunch pancake brunch October 31: 6:12 PM: sun’s down! joyous samhain 6:15 PM: i remember when you sewed me that octopus btw, the one that eats ucky feelings 6:19 PM: how long did it take you to get the laurel sachet into it?? 6:34 PM: also thank you thank you thank you for helping me find a friendly church to celebrate all saints day 6:47 PM: that year was a NIGHTMARE because you forgot to get your white candles and carnelian, and i forgot my holy water, so we were driving around town like Madmen 6:59 PM: it was worth it though 7:03 PM: i left you a script, i think you’ll like it.

November 9:

11:19 PM: i miss you so so much.

November 10:

12:20 AM: ignor this i drank like 12:24 AM: a lot 1:15 AM: i’m sorry i should’ve been with you 1:22 AM: i shouldve been there With You. 1:45 AM: but i wasn’t 2:20 AM: i didn’t know thered be a 4:11 PM: shit i just saw these. Sorry to bother you December 2:

10:10 AM: hey roman, been a bit. yea sorry about last time. too much of the Alcohol 10:13 AM: gonna go over to my parents’ house 1:00 PM: if you wanna come over, you can. dad’s making snickerdoodles and papa’s gonna watch atla (yes i still have that dvd you got me do not @ me it’s with your candles on your table just like everything else) 1:03 PM: that was on the dot, i’m happy.

December 21

8:34 AM: hey, it’s snowing 9:13 AM: couldn’t help leaving you some hot cocoa. and snickerdoodles of course 10:12 AM: i love you Remus went to go help his dads with making breakfast, but by the time everyone was done cleaning and they had finished watching some shitty Hallmark movie, he remembered that he had left his phone upstairs. Going upstairs and looking at it, he felt something in him break.

[2 Unread: Roman <3, bf’s dad]

10:22 AM, Roman <3: Why are you texting this number? 11:15 AM, bf’s dad: Remus, disregard that last, I’m so sorry. I just found his phone and I saw only the recent message first

The phone started ringing. Remus answered it as quickly as he could.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Sanders I didn’t know that someone was actually getting these messages I thought the line was out,” he said within a few seconds before the person on the other side sighed.

“No, it’s quite all right. And Virgil’s all right, by the way, if you prefer. I... I was just looking through his things for the first time. You know, it being a holiday and all... Memories, things like that.”

“Yeah, I understand.”

“I just turned the phone back on, I’m getting a lot of messages.”

“Oh.” Remus stared at the wall, trying to come to terms with everything. “Well, I--”

“I’m not going to stop paying for his phone. I’m sorry, I just... I still have his voicemails on it, and I can’t stand the thought of it going offline either.”

“Right, I... I listen to it too.”

“I happened upon the last one he sent to you.”

“You looked at the messages?”

“I only looked over when I stopped getting new ones, but I saw the last question he sent you. For your ring size.”

“Yeah? He asked my ring size so that he could--”

“There’s no easy way to say this, but.. I found something of his. Can you come over?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t, but can you please tell me what it was? Please?”

“I really think I should tell you this in person.”

“Please, Mr. Sanders. Please, I... I can’t manage that.”

He sighed. “All right, Remus. I found an early acceptance letter to SJAU, and... and a ringbox.”

Remus felt his grasp on the phone grow weak. It fell onto the bed, Mr. Sanders’ voice still clear.

“I think he was going to ask for you to....”

“No, we... We were just out of high school, I-- that doesn’t make sense.”

“He always was one for those romantic gestures. There’s some poems here, too. A life-plan. I’m not sure exactly what malacology is, but--”

“Mollusks. Like octopi and squids.. Sorry for cutting you off, what was that?”

“Some of it’s in your handwriting, but one of the entries is ‘ask him’, for the day after... you know.”

God, he could hear his sad smile through the phone. He knew exactly how Mr. Sanders looked right now just talking to him, probably wearing that hoodie that was too big on him, in a dusty room full of things that used to belong to the most vibrant person that Remus had ever met.

But then Roman had died.

He was the most wonderful person, and he had just died.

“I’ll come over to deliver the ring to you. Is that okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, that’s... that’s fine. Uh, call my dads first, though. They’re still not convinced I’m doing okay.”

“I understand. I’ll talk to you later, Remus.”

“Thank you, Mr. Sanders.”

The line went dead in his hands.

Remus held himself and wept.

December 28:

12:30 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: Mr. Sanders, would you like to come over for our New Year’s party? 12:34 PM, Remus Picani-Kleitman: It’s a tradition we had. You don’t have to if you’d rather not. 12:45 PM, Virgil Sanders: I’d love to go.

January 1:

12:00 AM: HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!!! 12:05 AM: [Attachment: :)] 12:07 AM: we are all smiling in this photo and for that i think we deserve a hug. 12:10 AM: this rings the most beuatifl thing i’ve ever fuckign seen. thank you,, 12:14 AM: never gonna get rid of it <3 12:16 AM: it looks Good on my finger 12:30 AM: jsyk your dad’s asking my dads for the kouign amann recipe 12:32 AM: thats a pastry, i left those for u a while back 12:39 AM: okay i’m crying a bit but honestly, i love u 12:44 AM: I love you so so so much, Roman

Somewhere out there, whether it was from some wonderful paradise or beyond the veil or even only in wishful thoughts, Remus knew that someone was saying I love you too.

[stereostevie]

The Rap Grammy Nominations Are Weird As Hell | Nov 25, 2020 11:12 AM BY TOM BREIHAN

The very first time that the Grammy Awards recognized rap music, it was an utter fiasco — a clear case of an aging pop-music establishment failing to understand this vital new youth music that had sprung up and rewritten the rules. For the 1989 awards show, the Grammys added one rap category, Best Rap Performance. DJ Jazzy Jeff & The Fresh Prince won it for “Parents Just Don’t Understand,” beating out LL Cool J and Salt-N-Pepa and Kool Moe Dee and JJ Fad. The show didn’t deign to recognize Public Enemy, N.W.A, EPMD, Slick Rick, Big Daddy Kane, Eric B. & Rakim, or Ice-T, all of whom had released classic albums within the voting window. The award wasn’t televised, and most of the nominees, Jazzy Jeff and the Fresh Prince included, skipped the show, attending a “Boycott The Grammys” party instead.

Since that night, the history of rap at the Grammys has been a series of baffling, embarrassing decisions. It’s Steely Dan winning Album Of The Year over The Marshall Mathers LP. It’s Gretchen Wilson winning Best New Artist over Kanye West. “It’s weird and it sucks that I robbed you.” It’s also a history of rappers getting angry over the Grammys: “I never let a statue tell me how nice I am,” “You think I give a damn about a Grammy?” In 2019, Drake showed up to accept Best Rap Song. In his acceptance speech, he talked about how the Grammy voters weren’t necessarily the right people to define rap success. The broadcast cut him off mid-speech. Earlier this year, Kanye West, a man who once cared more about Grammy Awards than anyone else not named Neil Portnow, tweeted a video of himself pissing on one of his Grammys. (The Grammys still nominated West this year, for Best Contemporary Christian Music Album.)

Yesterday, the Grammys nominated Freddie Gibbs and the Alchemist’s Alfredo in the Best Rap Album category. That’s great! Freddie Gibbs is a great underground rap success story, a guy who bet on himself and kept doing great work in his own lane even after multiple major-label situations fell apart. Gibbs has never made a hit song in his life, and he’s gotten himself into a position where he doesn’t need to make hit songs — where he can just follow his instincts and keep his own style intact. Alfredo isn’t my favorite rap record of the year. (Even in the field of Alchemist-produced 2020 rap albums, I’d give the slight edge to Boldy James’ The Price Of Tea In China.) But the nomination for Alfredo is still a very cool surprise, the kind of thing that I would’ve never expected to see from the Grammy nominating committee.

And yet Gibbs’ nomination doesn’t exactly announce a new golden age of Grammy rap consideration, a time when Recording Academy voters are finally figuring out how to approach the genre. Instead, his nomination points toward something else: An institutional recognition of middlebrow, middle-aged, respectable rap music.

All of this year’s Best Rap Album nominees are Black men between the ages of 35 and 47. The oldest nominee is Nas, who is now on his fifth Best Rap Album nomination and who has never won the award. (The Best Rap Album Grammy didn’t exist in 1994, when Nas released Illmatic, but there’s no way in hell that Nas would’ve won it anyway. The Academy would’ve given the award to Coolio’s It Takes A Thief or something.) The youngest nominee is D Smoke, a former high school Spanish teacher who is also the brother of the TDE R&B singer SiR. D Smoke made his way into Grammy contention after winning the first season of Rhythm + Flow, the Netflix rap-competition show. (Two of the three judges from Rhythm + Flow, Cardi B and Chance The Rapper, have won Best Rap Album themselves. T.I., the other judge, has been nominated three times and never won.)

D Smoke isn’t exactly a revered or popular rapper, and I have’t seen anyone calling his perfectly-OK album Black Habits a masterpiece, though the man has certainly done better than anyone could’ve expected from a rap reality-show winner. But D Smoke raps exactly like a diet version of Kendrick Lamar, so his nomination works as a clear indication that the Grammy voters really, really wish they had a Kendrick album to nominate. D Smoke is also up for Best New Artist, alongside fellow rappers Chika, Megan Thee Stallion, and (I guess) Doja Cat. Presumably, Megan’s Good News would also be nominated if it had come out early enough to be eligible. Meanwhile, Chika hasn’t released an album, and Doja Cat is nominated in the pop categories, not the rap ones.

Instead, then, we’re looking at five guys hovering around the age of 40, all of whom are respected technicians with boom-bap inclinations. Jay Electronica, who’s nominated for A Written Testimony and who should probably be considered the front-runner, is technically a New Orleans native, but nobody thinks of him as a Southern rapper. (Jay-Z is all over A Written Testimony, to the point where anointing Jay Electronica feels a bit like throwing awards love to Jay-Z in a year with no Jay-Z album.) All the albums up for Best Rap Album are, at the very least, solid. A couple of them, Alfredo and A Written Testimony, are very good. But this is still a remarkably stodgy list — one that shows that the whole middle-aged respectability fetish that’s long plagued the Grammys is now embedded in its rap voting wing.

Freddie Gibbs and Nas and Jay Electronica and D Smoke and Royce Da 5’9″ are all gifted rappers who have done great work. Most of them could justifiably be considered legends. But none of them really show the world where rap music is, let alone where it’s going. By recognizing those albums, the Grammys have pointedly elected not to recognize something like Lil Baby’s My Turn, which is probably 2020’s most popular album in any genre and which is also a fine example of the 808-heavy depressive melodic-goo rap music that currently dominates the genre’s mainstream.

Other hugely popular, artistically important albums are also absent: Lil Uzi Vert’s Eternal Atake, Roddy Rich’s Please Excuse Me For Being Antisocial, Polo G’s The Goat, Gunna’s Wunna, Rod Wave’s Pray 4 Love. Instead, the rap albums getting nominated are the 2020 equivalents of the Steely Dan album that famously beat Eminem. That’s not an indictment of the nominated albums. It’s an indictment of the stuff the Recording Academy values. It’s also a cautionary look of how things might look if the Recording Academy ever gets its way, if rap comes to rely on accepted ossified skill-sets instead of its current state of constant, furious stylistic evolution.

As someone who’s around the same age as this year’s Best Rap Album nominees, I’m not all that amped to see emotionally troubled, pill-gobbling 20-year-olds dominating rap music. But those kids are crucially moving the genre past whatever old men like me might want it to be. Fortunately, there’s at least one Grammy category that has done a pretty good job capturing where things are right now, and that’s Best Rap Song. The list of nominations there — Lil Baby’s “The Bigger Picture,” Roddy Ricch’s “The Box,” Drake’s “Laugh Now, Cry Later,” DaBaby’s “Rockstar,” and Megan Thee Stallion’s “Savage” — isn’t necessarily perfect, but it’s a fairly accurate representation of the kind of rap that moves people right now. I don’t know why the division between the Best Rap Album and Best Rap Song nominees is so stark. Maybe it’s a signal that the album is increasingly irrelevant. Maybe it reflects two different voting bodies. Either way, it’s striking.

Look, the Grammys are weird. They are always going to be weird. Fiona Apple’s Fetch The Bolt Cutters should’ve been the biggest lay-up in the world, but it isn’t up for Album Of The Year. Instead, the Academy’s voters went for Coldplay and Jacob Collier and a deluxe edition of a Black Pumas album that didn’t even come out in the eligibility period. “Rockstar” and “Savage” are both up for Record Of The Year, but Post Malone’s Hollywood’s Bleeding is the only album that’s even rap-adjacent that’s nominated for Album Of The Year this year. I thought for sure that Lil Baby’s My Turn would be the token rap album that would inevitably lose to Taylor Swift. Instead, we didn’t even get one of those, and My Turn got snubbed even in its own category. Nothing makes sense.

But this year’s Best Rap Albums nominations still show a weird alignment between Grammy Voters and a certain streak of real-hip-hop rap conservatism. Watch out for that. Nothing good, except maybe a Freddie Gibbs Grammy win, will come out of that.

FURIOUS FIVE

1. Roc Marciano – “Downtown 81” It’s not on streaming services yet, but Roc Marciano’s new album Mt. Marci is out in the world now, and it is marvelous. (I can’t tell you whether the digital download is worth the $40 that Marci is charging on his website. Make your own financial decisions.) Right now, the only song out for general consumption is one of the few that Marci didn’t produce himself. (It’s a Jake One beat.) But otherwise, “Downtown 81” is exactly the sort of laid-back, intricately worded deadpan splendor that you can expect to hear on the LP, whenever it goes wide. So maybe that’s worth the price of a full tank of gas.

2. Meek Mill – “GTA” (Feat. 42 Dugg)

Meek Mill released his Quarantine Pack EP on Friday, and the track currently getting the big push is the downbeat Lil Durk collab “Pain Away.” But the real thrill here is in hearing Meek and 42 Dugg getting bracingly urgent over a Detroit-ass bassline.

3. Chief Keef & Mike Will Made-It – “Status” Sosa and Mike Will have evidently chosen to name their new song after this column. Gentlemen, I see this tribute, and I appreciate it. I love you too.

4. Willie The Kid & V Don – “Mother Of Pearls” (Feat. Eto) This is pretty.

5. Statik Selektah – “Play Around” (Feat. Conway The Machine, 2 Chainz, Killer Mike, Allan Kingdom, & Haile Supreme)

Once upon a time, maybe 13 years ago, I was apparently such a recognizable and influential part of the New York rap press that Statik Selektah noticed me at an MOP show, introduced himself, and tried to get me to listen to his mix CD. All these years later, Statik is a globally acknowledged boom-bap specialist with enough juice to put three of the world’s greatest middle-aged rappers on a track together. I’m proud of Statik. I bet he gets nominated for a Grammy someday.

[anne-lister-adventures]

Sunday, 12 April 1840

6 10/’’

10 5/’’

Ground covered with snow – But Reaumur 10º on the table close to my sofa bed at 6 1/4 – All ready and breakfast at 7 20/’’ to 8 – Did not sleep – Stomach very cold – Got up – Relighted candle – Took a teaspoonful of brandy about before one and afterwards slept till 6 having wrapt China crepe shall and shalloon cloak round my stomach – 

1/2 hour’s pother in paying our Persian Maître de Poste – At last counted all out separately in Silver – Pragoni i.e. pay for the horses, for the borrowed wheel one S.[Silver] R.[Ruble] and for greasing 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] till even the Courier said it was too much and the man then returned the 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] and took 25 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] as paid before – He then saw that, as I had told him, he lost 46 1/2 Kopek cuivre by his pother and making me pay in Silver – Both George and the Courier laughed and the man himself laughed and asked for a pour boire – No! said I – But you will know me better another time and I will give you something then – Not now – I am glad you have paid for all this pother – Then gave an additional 10 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] to the soldier of the house making 60 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] instead of the 50 I should otherwise have given – This seemed to give great satisfaction as turning the laugh doubly against our Persian – The about 1 good English gill of milk we had last night gone sourish this morning = 15 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] – Ccarce and dear here – 

Off from Dushet (pronounced Dōōshĭt) at 8 50/’’ – Clouds hanging over the mountains – But fine back view upon the largeish good looking Town and its large squary castle-like fortress, and the portico of its long earth covered flat roofed Gastinoi Dvor, and little white Gurien church and old ruined square Tower at some little distance on the hill side above – The brick church not quite finished but that will be handsome is Armenian – And close to the church are some goodish houses building à la Russe – One finished with gallery round au 1er[premier] looks neat and comfortable – 

A street or 2 in progress – And the underground curious old Gurien cottages will a few years hence be replaced by neat Russian cottages and houses – Went into one last night – Descended into the sunk porch (inclined plain no steps) then a sort of kitchen – Then a middle room to put things away in, then the 3d.[3rd] and sleeping room – 3 breadths of carpet on the floor and a fire place – Thick gravelled road over all these cottages that carts go over – One could not imagine houses beneath – No light but from the sunk porch, and from one little round hole in the top of the sleeping room opposite the porch – 

In the kitchen was the oven at the end on the right (on entering) like an English 40 gallon iron brewing pan sunk up to its brim – They make wood a fire in this and cover it over – Then take out the fire when the sides are red hot – Put in the cakes ant they are baked in 10 minutes – But inquire more about this at Tiflis – 

Smoking Semovars in the Gastinoi Dvor and soldiers drinking hot mead looking tea without milk in the shops (Gastinoi Dvor) much natural rock salt in large pieces of greyish spar-like rock – Eggs – Mutton fat (Tallow) much small bacon – Persian dried large prunes and cherries and salts and the bean (small kidney, reddish) one has seen everywhere from Astracan here – Onion tops, and rice (not real rice said George groom here) – Cotton printed handkerchiefs and narrow white cloths linen or cotton – But the most striking are the wine shops – The bullock hides, en outre, apparently hair left on inside full of red wine sold at -/20 Kopek en cuivre per about an English pint – One shop quite Élégante had a bottle of Donskoi champagne-wise and ditto ditto Tiflis wine at 1/40 the bottle assignats or 40 S.[Silver] K.[Kopek] or 2 Georgian abash –

Off from Duchet at 8 50/’’ – The handsome square fort, a round tower at corner, at a little distance left as we ascended the down-like hill – The handsome looking white monastery at a considerable on the hill behind us to the right – Duchet stands well and picturesquely on the side of the hill in the largeish fine open valley – The Town on one side the valley the fortress on the other – 

The castle at Dusheti, which is probably what Anne calls a “castle”.

Our road a sort of field-road up and over the hill top a high plateau of good land between wooded hills near left – Considerable distance right – descend (but keep high up along the right side) into nice high valley and at 9 40/’’ – Picturesque old round Tower and 2d.[2nd] village and reed thatched village (probably there are under ground cottages not seen?) and stream with rather broadish bouldery bed – Capital land on the high plateau and all along – They might grow anything but barley the chief corn at Duchet and all round about – Saw some in winnowing last night it looked pretty fair – Tolerably plump grained and very clean – Thrown up in a shovel, and the wind winnowed it in falling – 

At 9 40/’’ our 2d.[2nd] village on knoll at head of this charming little valley – The 1st poor or less was at the verge of the high plateau – 1st vines at this our 2d.[2nd] village in the bottom – High sticks or rice props and some transomed supports as at Astracan –

But soon after here the bottom full of wood – Pollard oaks or willows or what and brush and tangle and bouldery stream – Soon after 2d.[2nd] village gather yellow St. John’s wort like flowers (5 petals and many stamina) and little pink hepaticas and smell less violets and cowslips – And at 10 Descend into main valley the fine valley of our Aragna (which we had left after Ananoor, and see again now 1st time) – 

On each side beautifully sillonné rounded wooded hill – Broad bouldery streamy river – Wind along with the river close left on its high perpendicular conglomerate gravel bank and at 10 35/’’ make an elbow to the right into the now still wider valley of our Aragna – A fine broad bouldery streamy river occasionally in one good stream – 

At 10 40/’’ pass a little rather Russian like wood cottage or farm right, and at 11 7/’’ little village of huts in basin-like opening out of valley and neat white plastered little Government Station House – Little drizzling rain now and for the last 1/2 hour – 2 feet deep of capital warp soil shewn over the high conglomerate bank of river – All the trees all along our valleys lopped higher or lower – Our great valley (Val d’Aragna) a mile broad? 

No horses at Tortiskar – Our wheel to send back and to our own 3 ‘il faut mettre des bracelets’! – Till now 12 3/4 have just written all but the 1st 3 lines of today – Coolish air and clouds darkish – Threatening rain? Great many of the queer elephantic camel-gaited cattle hereabouts they hold their heads poking forward and walk very much in the camel-style – Got out of the Kibitka to look about me – A few drops of light rain which however soon blew off – Government House – One might sleep here very well – A good room front one on each side the door for travellers – And the back rooms for the family – 

Longish job of paying – 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for repairing the wheel pour mettre les bracelets 2 or 3 thin shreds of lead-like iron that were worth very little and the Maître de P.[Poste] would have 2 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] for the loan of his wheel (which he would not sell for 20 S.[Silver] R.[Rubles] tho’ it hardly lasted us to Tiflis) – Necessary – Nothing to be said – 

Off at 1 31/’’ – Magnificent – (vide + and ≠ above) The opening out is another wider valley from East to West that traverses our Valley d’Aragna something like the diagram as I do it from memory now Monday 13 April 6 p.m. at Tiflis the little o meant to represent the Station House on a knoll in the neck of the transversal valley and to reach which we crossed over little wood bridge and stream just below the house and amid Georgian (Gurien) ground-huts –

How many always difficult to tell and they are so like the ground itself – Soon after leaving the basin-like opening our road a deepish cut thro’ indurated sand, and then thro’ hard sand rock – Like my Bairstow quarry sandstone and at 1 50/’’ pass under the old ruined castle Prēajnēa Krepost, (Prēēajnēēa Krēēăpost) close left, and at 1 55/’’ Georgian church (Byzantine) very pretty and picturesque near right, and walled monastery at a little distance left, and wood bridge over the broad shallow bouldery river and on high point of ridge of hill just above very picturesque old castle – Valley here little more than road and river – 200 yards broad? – 

Alight at the monastery at 2 to 2 55/’’ – They call it Nānt-Shĕt – Vide p.[page] 113. Mtsketha line 9 from the bottom –

‘The fortress remains’ – The old walls are with an old remain of Tower or 2 are very picturesque from without, but as to fortress all is ruin within, as was till lately the fine old Cathedral; but now it is all under repair, the exterior finished, and the interior will be this summer – Except on close examination, and seeing the few morsels of ancient sculpture carefully spared, it is like a handsome new church in the old Byzantine style standing amid a mass of ruins – 

In some of the old building within and up against the old fortress walls are several Gurien families of peasants and labourers, living in comparative darkness as usual – They were shovelling very decent brown wheat (rather long and thin in the grain) down a round hole not more than 18 to 22 in.[inches] in diameter into a granary in the ground – So near full of corn I could not judge of the depth – No entrance – No way of getting the corn out again but by the round hole – How this savours of remote antiquity! If one is perpetually reminded of ancient usages in the Pyrenees, much more is one reminded of them here – The houses, ovens sunk in their house-floors, dress (the bourka) – Cattle-skin outres of wine let out at one of the legs, boats scooped out of the trunks of large trees – Are surely sheeps fleece without and felt within, impenetrable to rain, is surely the very same one sees on ancient medals thrown over all the heroes of old who used to wear it as they do here with its opening turned from the storm be it in front at the back or on either shoulder – 

Among the old sculpture of the Cathedral St. George and the Dragon – Over the Great East window a Greek eagle – A Tiger – 

Eagle and tiger detail from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

And below 2 horse-heads – Several mouldings of cornices and of window frames and doors &c. of very well done tracery cruciform flowers and lilies – Angels – 

More details from the Svetitskhoveli Cathedral. (Image source).

2 birds eating (something like, in the style of, the diagram? but well done – I had no time to make any sketch on the spot) –

There always among the flowers the sun flower or what we call marigold? – One large window in the East end and on each side of it a deep empty niche nearly the whole heighth[height] up to the square of the roof – The first instance I have seen of this – Effect very striking and good – 

No entrance but at the West end with porch – They said the doors could not be opened – Went up to one of the 2 priests standing by – Took him by the arm – Held out my purse – The door opened – 

A nave and 2 narrow aisles a curious little old stone shrine-like little place in the South aisle where the relics are kept –

The whole of the interior has been painted in fresco on the South side opposite the dome is an old Zodiac with a boat instead of the Sign Pisces – The whole of the painting is to be renewed the new to be an exact copy of the old – 

The zodiac fresco, after restoration. Photo by Diego Delso, delso.photo, License CC-BY-SA. (Image Source)

Over the East end – Over the Sanctum Sanctorum is a chapel as also over the West end a small ditto a 1/2 length figure of one covers the whole East end included in the chapel which seems to take up 1/2 the whole height of the building – This gigantic painting is very striking, and the effect is good – It is the first instance of the kind I ever saw – 

The gigantic fresco Anne mentions. (Image Source)

The church is dimly but sufficiently lighted principally from the dome, a 16 sided Tower? with a long lancet window in each side – Effect very good dehors – Did not sufficiently notice it within – Must go again? 

55 minutes there – Long for post horses to wait – In the cottage we went into the people dining – Some sort of greens (onion sprouts? they are sold in all the shops) and the large dried Persian cherries and some sort of bit of meat? 2 strong tree post supported the heavy beams that carried the straw spars that carried the earth covered roof and left a hole in the centre of the room over the bit of fire for the smoke to escape – A pair of large stags horns nailed to each post and on the antlers narrow boards laid across for shelves think of this at Shibden – Gamba says there are 200 houses here – Probably – It is a large Gurien city – 

Off from the cathedral at 2 55/’’ – Walked down the steep pitch, along the rock-girt Kur which here at right angles pours it deeper narrower stream into the Aragna and runs in its course and drowns its name in that of Kur – ‘Tis here just above the junction that one crosses the Aragna by the long good wooden bridge that certainly shews no trace of Pompey (vide p.[page] 113) – 

The remains of Pompey’s Bridge, Mtsketha. (Image Source)

Wine shop and one of the large outres lying on its back the 4 legs sticking up, and from one a glass of red wine pouring out – Then tied up again – George says the hair is left on inside and this covered with pitch or the skin would not hold – A bloated red dead cow or ox was lying in the Kur – George declared the skin would be made into an outre – Was it merely the skin lying macerating in the water by way of preparat? 

On the strand of the Kur at its junction with the A-[Aragna] lay 3 of the river boats – Cut out of the trunks of immense oak trees (I think) 2 of them pitched inside and outside the other merely hollowed adzed out, and not yet pitched – I think they 4 or 5 yards long and the narrowest 2 ft.[feet] wide of hollow at the top – The largest 2ft.[feet] 6 in.[inches] or more? – 

Off from the bridge at 3 – At 3 1/4 valley sand rocky and bare and 9 Troglodite houses in the sand rock right, and right bank of Kur, not far from us, and at some distance ahead (left) a sort of little alum bay (Isle of Wight) different coloured strata of sand but not quite so perpendicular -

Crowned with low building which afterwards seemed to be a low ruined square tower – Kur like Calder between Salterhebble and Elland as to breadth white greenish muddy stream close right deepish here at 3 1/4 between its highish rock banks – But soon after widens into broad bouldery stream between low banks of sand at 3 1/2 our bracelets des roues coming off – 

Stopped a minute or 2 to hammer up, and tie on with rope! – As we have done before – And at 3 40/’’ at old ruined square castle and village 12 v.[versts] from Tiflis – Probably Mtsketha is about 6 v.[versts] from Tortiskar and ∴[therefore] about 21 v.[versts] from Tiflis – And Tiflis in sight at 4 35/’’ – Descend – 

At 5 5/’’ shew podorojna – At 5 13/60 cross the river – Somehow our drivers take us one way and George driven him another, and before he could come to us our stupid fellows had had us all but on the ground a parcel of men in the street prevented and heaved us up again, and then tried to turn instead of backing – Broke the fore axle main bolt – That the near fore wheel under the carriage the shaft horse down and we had a terrible to do during which George came – He walked with us and the servants Kibitka followed to the Inn (came in at 5 40/’’) we took our rooms one large and 3 smaller one at 2 1/2 Silver Rubles a day, and he then went back to Nikolai – We went out in 3 or 4 minutes just as they had got our Kibitka to the door and thrown it over and broke off the door – Left with George -/70 for his driver – Would give ours nothing – They had done too much mischief sauntered about to the little fountain and peeped in at the gate of a nice large garden near the fountain – Curious – interesting – To us novel Eastern-like Town – 

A view of Tiflis in the 19th century. (Image Source).

Came in at 6 20/’’ – Tea at 7 25/’’ to 8 50/’’ – Had Domna – All the skin will come off her face in consequence of passing the mountains to Kaishaur (Kāsh-ă-ŏŏr), and her head is rather swollen, and she complains of much headache – Sat reading Dubois till 9 3/4 – 

Finish day for the drizzling rain did not last long and the few drops at 4 p.m. blew off – Whistling wind tonight, and oddish smell of damp? in our large cold, 6 windowed (single windows very far from air-tight) room – Something with the stove flue – Could not have a fire till tomorrow – Reaumur 7 1/2º on my table where I sat writing at 9 3/4 p.m. ∴[therefore] did not venture to undress, but taking of gown and shoes thick over stockings slept flannel jacket and in my Chelat as usual when we cannot regularly undress, and as we have done from Astracan to Kislar[Kizlyar] and from K-[Kizlyar] to Vladicavkas and from V-[Vladicavkas] to here – still cold enough –

[symbols in the margin of the page:]         +          ≠          +

[in the margin of the page:]            Dushet

[in the margin of the page:]            Cottage

[in the margin of the page:]            oven

[in the margin of the page:]            Mead, i.e., hot water and honey

[in the margin of the page:]            1 Abash = 20 Silver Kopek

[in the margin of the page:]            Mtsketha

[in the margin of the page:]            vide p.[page] 113.

[in the margin of the page:]            Mtsketha cathedral

[in the margin of the page:]            Granary

[in the margin of the page:]            All savours of antiquity

[in the margin of the page:]            Bourka

[in the margin of the page:]            Gigantic painting of Xst[Christ]

[in the margin of the page:]            16 sided dome?

[in the margin of the page:]            Shelves on the antlers of stag’s horns for Shibden

[in the margin of the page:]            vide p.[page] 113

[in the margin of the page:]            Outre

[in the margin of the page:]            Boats

 Page References: SH:7/ML/E/24/0082 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0083 and SH:7/ML/E/24/0084

[pikachu-musical-alarm-clock]

we can do so much better: a thread on the gaping holes in the us social safety net

“

This is why poverty is cyclical. Can’t get benefits without a job, can’t find a job that pays better than your benefits, can’t get better benefits without a kid, can’t work a job once you have a kid. If you could work AND get that $1,000 a month a lot more people could escape systemic poverty and being on welfare. Everyone wants to say that welfare is a safety net, it’s not. It’s a glue trap that’s impossible to get out of.

“

full transcription under the cut

Okay you want to talk about a welfare safety net? Let’s talk about a welfare safety net. A thread on welfare, from a kid who grew up on food stamps. 

There are 83 overlapping federal welfare programs, and all of them together make up the largest budget item in the US. This is all means-tested welfare that excludes Medicaid and Social Security, the total comes out to about 1.03 trillion.

For comparison, Social Security cost $725 billion, non-war defense cost $540 billion, and Medicare cost $480 billion. (All of these numbers are from a Senate Budget Committee Report in 2011)

With all of these programs, and all of this spending, this system must be working well, right? Well not really. Let’s look at a breakdown of four “welfare” programs, TANF, SNAP, WIC, and SSI.

Temporary Assistance for Needy Families (TANF) is the program most people refer to as “welfare.” In 2016, TANF assisted only 23% of families living in poverty. On average, it gave families of three $447 a month, but depending on where you live...

...that number can be as low as $170 or as high as $1038. For a single person on TANF, you’re lucky to get about $300. And despite this help, many families still lived below the poverty line. So TANF is ineffective.

Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program (SNAP) is more commonly known as food stamps. The average person on SNAP received between $126-$134 a month. But this is food stamps, which means you cant use this money on: soaps, paper products, pet food items, vitamins and medicines, hot foods.

So if your car breaks down and you can’t get to work, or if you have to buy your kid shoes to walk to school, or if you have to pay a bill, you’re out of luck. I’d like to point out you cant buy alcohol or tobacco on SNAP, so please quit with that ‘lazy drunk poor’ stereotype. 

Special Supplemental Nutrition Program for Women, Infants, and Children (WIC) is sort of like food stamps for mothers. You can only be on WIC for a year after your child is born, and it gives you vouchers for specific foods, mostly for your infant.

This program is worth somewhere between $47 and $61 on average to women. Yeah, that little. You can get WIC if you’re pregnant, postpartum, or if you have a child under five that is at “nutritional risk.” So, you can’t help your kid until they’re starving.

Finally, let’s look at Social Security Income (SSI). To get SSI you have to be 65 or older, or blind, or disabled, and you must have limited income and resources. The difference between SSDI and SSI is that SSDI is available to those who have accumulated a sufficient... 

...number of work credits. SSI is for individuals who have never worked or haven’t earned enough credits. The average payout for someone on SSI is $536 a month for adults, $647 for kids.

So let’s say in some crazy scenario, you manage to get on all these programs at once. (Which would be near impossible). Your monthly income would be $1,033 - BEST CASE SCENARIO. And  $195 of that is mandatorily going to pre-approved government food items.

This doesn’t take into account scenarios where a family of three is getting $170 on TANF. It also doesn’t take into account how long it takes to get on these programs:

TANF - 45 days

SNAP - 30 days

WIC - up to a week

SSI - 30 days to 2 years

Normally, it takes longer.

I remember hearing that on average it takes 2 months for people to get full benefits, which would fit in with my experience but I can’t cite that, so take that with a grain of salt.

So where does @AndrewYang UBI fit into this? Well, a $1,000 a month is only $33 less than our imaginary scenario where you are a geriatric or disabled pregnant woman who has waited two months to get benefits. Most likely, you would be getting $1,000 or less currently.

So let’s talk about this last thing. If you read all the descriptions for the programs, you would notice a trend. All of these programs you can only get if you are making too little, if you don’t have a job, or if you have kids.

So let me ask you, why would you risk losing your benefits that you’ve waited months to be on, for a 40-hour work week at minimum wage, which would get you $1160 a month? That’s assuming you have transportation, and that you somehow landed a full time 40 hour work week job.

Which is hard to find if all you have is a high school diploma, or a GED, especially if you have kids. If the minimum wage was raised to $15 you could make $2400 a month, again, at a miraculous 40 hour job, within transportation distance, even with a child or infant.

This is why poverty is cyclical. Can’t get benefits without a job, can’t find a job that pays better than your benefits, can’t get better benefits without a kid, can’t work a job once you have a kid. If you could work AND get that $1,000 a month...

...a lot more people could escape systemic poverty and being on welfare. Everyone wants to say that welfare is a safety net, it’s not. It’s a glue trap that’s impossible to get out of.

Finally, raising the minimum wage won’t help, because companies will get around it easily by automation, moving to other countries, or paying only for part time work in part time positions so they don’t have to pay benefits. Again, you can’t get welfare if you’re working.

A federal jobs guarantee would be great if it wasn’t inefficient, and didn’t force people to work for the government to live. It also doesn’t help those who are on disability and can’t work, which is another argument I see against Andrew Yang’s UBI...

..even though his FD would stack on OASDI, UI, SSDI and VA disability. The FJG does not help the people on these programs but a UBI does help. So please please please stop defending the “social safety net.” It doesn’t help.

[rosaeus-archive]

i hate tumblr.

[kas-e]

Cyclones & the Road

Vanity won't stop this new school vagabond from shamelessly admitting acts of vagrancy in coffee shops across America while either writing, working on my photography, or just getting a hot cup of coffee and a meal while speaking with strangers and introducing them to the man behind the green & wild bloodshot eyes.  I've become an expert at stealing moments of their time to share some skunky smoke, give them some wide smiles, tell them a few bad jokes, and remind them that there is indeed still soul out there in this plastic & tragic country.  The corporations can flood the world with tech of all sorts, phones, laptops, computers, etc, but after this past year I've realized that there are still some people out there like myself that are unable to be pacified by the plastic.  

The road is still the home of the true individual... the hyper-inspired, so-called insane ones.  Though a dying breed it seems and some may say, I beg to differ as there are still souls out there like me who live truly free, who are working on perfecting the art of a pure and true underground life, the subterranean version of the American dream created by the anarchists and travelers and artists and poets who found themselves in the soul sucking period in time of America in the 40's & 50's.  The similarities are striking to me... the current version being reinvented in a strange, sleek, and subliminal strain easily adapted to our current age in time.  Over the past few years I believe it is now safe to say that the times have undoubtedly mirrored the old days of a bland, restless, post-war America - the very scene that initially caused the underworld to bubble with activity, originality, drive, and creativity and later spawn the subculture which still remains the root of every movement towards pushing the the boundaries of intellectual progress, creative expression, and a free-form style of living absent of requirement save the unspoken law which is absolute freedom and originality - of which all in the tribe silently abide.   Such a law is quite difficult to articulate, but I'll take a crack at it regardless.  The mantra is to Go, with a capital G, but Go in a direction never gone before, pave the path instead of tracing another, stay true to your sister and your brother when you meet them along the way, live by the laws of karma and understand that the only catalyst is the Dharma and that God lives in the eyes of every person you meet, give without the phrase "on the arm" and expect nothing in return & receive with great gratitude and grace, and leave the rest up to the wind, the world, and the driving force behind this strange thing called life that we are all so lucky to be a part of.  Be Here Now & practice the art of living without expectation while keeping the body healthy, the mind active and innovative, the soul open and transparent, all while remaining conscious of just how detrimental the energy we put out into the world actually is to those who we come in contact with... to be mindful and free simultaneously is a feat in itself, it is a challenge to even the most weathered veterans of our fringe underworld. 

While on the road, driving clear across America for the second time within 2 years, I found myself entranced by the painted lines which naturally set my mind spinning in a manner that only extremely long stretches on the road can cause.  I thought a great deal about the cycles of this life, and about how similar moments become during a persons phases while in times of transition.  Today as I write this, marks my 38th year on this planet, and at this time in a man's life if you don't start to not only notice - but also brood on these things - then you are not paying attention, or of the type who simply never makes it to the deep end of the pool.  The fact that this was going to be one of the big mountains I'll have to climb during my time on earth both terrified me and inspired me at the same time.  I was as alone as a man can be, as troubled as a man can be, yet at the same time I realized I was as free as a man could be.  It was an interesting dichotomy, a confusing thought to think on, but instead of switching gears and avoiding such a complexity the road allowed me to continuously peel back the layers of this onion and really go deep.  It is this realization, it is the fact of facing the fear of such thoughts that has since been my anchor in the face extreme desperation, intense struggle, and pestering suicidal thought patterns that would strike during times of weakness.  If you are reading this, and you ever find yourself in such a headspace, always remember these very personal cycles that we go through as humans... and if you find yourself fighting with these things, if you find yourself fighting a battle that feels impossible to ever win, I beg of you to focus on the reality of these cycles.  Meditate on this reality.  Know that if you have reached a low of this magnitude, it either means you are at the tail end of a high of equal magnitude - or how I like to believe, that you are currently paying your dues for the next high which will peak sometime in the near future after fighting your way back up to the top.  Hindsight allowed me to visualize this, and I feel the greatest thing about getting older is the ability to view the past through a clear and concise lens, and rest assured that this too will pass as it has in the past.  Don't lose faith.  If the world has it's foot on your throat and your back pressed upon the pavement, understand that it is because you are not just another humdrum monotonous drone of a human - it is because you are one of the few that pushes the limits of progress and strives for greatness, and if you want to achieve greatness in this life, well then it is only right that you will also have to endure great struggle in order to do so.      

The same idea can easily be applied to society, our existence as a society is also unarguably cyclonic.  As the wheel turns we now find ourselves at a very pivotal moment in human existence.  The incorporation of technology has genuinely thrown a monkey wrench into the rusty gears of the Great American Experiment.  Birthed at the turn of the century with the prominence of the PC, it is now almost 20 years later and we are all essentially cyborgs with perpetual connectivity in our pockets, super heightened intelligence thanks to our good friend Google, and eagerly watching as the once enigmatic Artificial Intelligence gets it's footing in the world of reality.  I subscribe to the theory that we are on the brink of truly strange times to come, and that during this age in time we could possibly undergo a total revolution of our everyday life as human beings due the arrival of a new, synthetic consciousness that we are in the process of creating.

If this age in time were a human, the human would be taking their first steps on their own as I type this...  and the fear among those following this strange progression naturally lies in the unknown.  The question is, what will this human do when it is not only able to walk on its own - but when the human no longer needs us to survive?  The latter question, in my opinion, is a non-issue, but with the smartest people walking the planet, for example Sam Harris and Elon Musk both harboring such a fear, I think it's only right that any intellectual worth their salt entertain the theory and follow the progression of this very strange matter.  

All of that said, I think it is very important to note that as creative individuals the addition of technology must be delicately balanced and incorporated in our work.  I find it essential to resist the misuse of these machines, and always remember, they are simply tools to us - use them as such.   The very worst thing that you can do is resist the technology entirely, because the sad fact is that if you do, well, you will be left in the dust as the rest of the creative community masters these tools and marches forward.  Take them for what they are, a means to create, a means to communicate, a means to make your work more polished, and a tool which allows your methods to be more fluid and your process to become more seamless.  Most people are either consumed by the technology, or work so hard at resisting it that it really does hinder their quality of life.  An artist must not subscribe to either of these camps, and instead do what artists do... take control of what's in front of you, and manipulate it to work for you thus enhancing the final product of which you create.  At one point in time, artists across the world sat with canvas and charcoal, today we sit with laptops and photoshop, and I honestly believe that the difference between them is near non-existent.  

[ceciliatan]

Writing the Other: Conflict and Inclusion Panel Discussion Recap from #ICFA40

Writing the Other: Conflict and Inclusion ICFA 40 Panel with JR Richard, Keffy Kehrli, Usman Malik, K. Tempest Bradford, Nisi Shawl

This panel did not have a description in the online schedule, but I marked it of obvious interest to me! What follows in this post is my attempt to capture what was said. I believe I caught about 60% of the remarks, so this is not all of it, and sometimes I may have mis-typed, mis-heard, or misunderstood what was said, so please do not take these as direct quotes. They may be paraphrased. Please check with the individuals here before you quote them based on this pseudo-transcript.

The panel began with the panelists introducing themselves:

Nisi Shawl: I am a writer and editor, and increasingly this year a teacher! And I coauthored a book called Writing the Other with Cynthia Ward. I teach classes on Writing the Other with this woman to my right…

K. Tempest Bradford: I am a sf/f author and I’ve been co-teaching for Writing the Other workshops, and I admin the classes we don’t teach ourselves. We’ve been doing this for 4-5 years and it’s my fault Nisi is teaching more classes!

Usman Malik: I am a writer of sf/f, subspecializing in horror.

Keffy Kehrli: I am a sf/f writer and I only have shorts stories out. And I edit Glittership, an LGBTQ magazine We dont restrict to LGBTQ authors, so I get a lot of people “writing the other.” I’m also getting PhD in genetics so if I space out I’m probably thining about genes.

JR Richard: I’m a sf/f writer and playwright and I teach creative writing, playwriting, design, and slam poetry to school age children.

Nisi: The first thing I wanted to ask the panel for are some examples of inclusion and conflict in writing the other.

JR: I think that for me, it’s about educating ourselves: as someone with privilege and someone not with privilege—I am female and queer and I go by she/they, but I’m white. And in a previous panel someone said writers go “oh, I have awoken! so now I have learned and it’s done!” And that’s not how it works…? You are always evolving and learning. I have learned what is my lane and what is not my lane. I have learned when people are faking it. I am also Jewish and just read a musical that was written by people who aren’t Jewish and they got what a mitzvah is wrong. Being wrong can be hard for those with privilege. Conflict is hard for people with privilege to accept. When they say “I don’t even see color, I don’t care if people are pink and blue…” they are skirting a conflict that makes them uncomfortable.

Nisi: But do you have some examples?

Keffy: Specific works to cite… I’m trying to think. I tend to forget things that really piss me off. So I have trouble citing examples. There are two things I see a lot when it comes to conflict and inclusion. If you’ve read a lot of sf/f—especially older stuff even beyond just Tolkien—a lot of the models you get for conflict in fantasy works tend be to problematic. They tend to include the other as the enemy. So if you base inclusion on how you read it as a kid, it may be problematic to start with. Tolkien is a great example of how not to do it. The second thing is if you have come up with a villain and you realize you have a very white, straight story, and now you decide oh, I’m going to make this character black, you will possibly run into a very serious stereotype without having realized it. If you put in a queer character without considering how the intersection of that identity with stereotypes you will run right into a problem with them. I see it in submissions where someone decided to make a character queer without seeing how it impacts the story.

Usman: My thought process over the last few years has been A) when I write a story I don’t write the other, I write ME. But you need people who have lived that role. If they write that story, they write about their own experience. That is your cement block for me. We need representation in every sector you can think of, every art. B) Great writers or anyone worth their salt are trying to be authentic. Authenticity is the heart of all good art. It doesn’t matter if you need to know intersectionalism — it’s great if you do, but you don’t need to know any of that if you are working with authenticity and honesty. I have a story set in inner Lahore, Pakistan. I have lived in Lahore, Pakistan, but not in inner Lahore where my parents had lived. So I went back home and visited people there and then I wrote that story. Those are my people and I still felt I had to go and study them. In the Internet, in what I call the Troll World, the ones who are complaining are inauthentic to what they are doing. They are bad writers. That’s how I think about it.

Tempest: There are a lot of conversations about authenticity but also Own Voices writing, people writing within their own identity category. They are from the identity and they are writing that identity. But there becomes a conflict in which their authenticity is challenged by people whose idea of that identity comes from inauthentic things! (laughter) Kate Elliot gave a really great lecture on this about a review of Ken Liu’s book Grace of Kings. This one reviewer was like “when I set out to read this, I thought I would find an authentic experience of Asian culture, like what I saw in a movie I saw one time.” (audience groans) They have this view of what is “authentic” which is often a stereotypical or really offensive view, and if you do anything else, the audience is very against it. This also causes a problem with people who are trying to write the other and have actually learned the lesson and are doing it well. Say they write outside of their racial cultural whatever, and it’s very nuanced and layered and great, and they send it to an agent or editor. They get told “but you’re white, so you can’t write about Native Americans or black characters” or whatever. Or the editor will say this is not realistic because the black people are not in a gang. The Native Americans are not alcoholics. You didn’t write those stereotypes, but because it’s not what they expect they think it’s wrong. So the conflict comes when what do you do when your editor tells you something like that? We tell them: don’t let them make you put racist nonsense into your book. You may need to call an expert in the subject who has some clout. This happens a lot.

Nisi: I think, Usman, you do write the other when you write someone from a different economic class. You also wrote about orphans. Those are not you. But I take your point about your representation of the other. Recent someone was telling me how “diverse” the cast was from Crazy Rich Asians and I was like: it’s not diverse at all!

Tempest: They’re all Asian! Using the word “diverse” to mean “not white” is every problematic.

Nisi: Who is writing what and who’s including whom—in their anthologies and their publishing stables—those are questions we’re asking.

Keffy: I can say for Glittership I try to be as inclusive as I can, but it’s always a caveat because you can’t be perfectly inclusive. Because there are a limited number of stories, but there are an unlimited number of intersections. Usman gave a perfect example. It’s OwnVoices because it’s Pakistani but it’s not OwnVoices because it’s not inner Lahore. I have one benefit over anthology editors in that Glittership is ongoing, whereas an anthology is out. If you fucked up and put no women in it you’re stuck with it. Inclusion is a process. I’m always trying to reach out to people I don’t have represented. Sometimes though they send me something that I just don’t like. I try to write the nicest rejection letter I can so that they’ll send me more. One of my problems is that some of the groups I don’t have enough fiction from is that I don’t have enough authors sending them to me. Part of it is that there’s a perspective that LGBTQ fiction is very white and that you can have all the types of queers as long as they’re white. I have to be very specific I want more writers of color.

Nisi: But can you clarify? The authors you reach out to are …?

Keffy: I don’t publish any fiction that isn’t queer. There are many authors who I would love to have, but they haven’t written anything fitting for my magazine. I will literally just email people and say “yo, send me stories.” It’s so easy for poeple to get into the idea that if they don’t see a story from people like them, then they think they shouldn’t send theirs either. Sometimes as an author you don’t want to try. No one wants to get the rejection that is like “well, but none of them are drug dealers.” That’s rejection and getting stabbed in the heart. It’s on ongoing process. I go through Fiyah Lit Mag and email all their contributors “Hey got ay queer stuff?”

Tempest: I really feel like in sf/f we have a giant problem where there are not enough editors who are not white cis men. This is especially a problem in anthologies. Most of the major year’s bests are compiled by white cisgender men. The exceptions are like Ellen Datlow, which is great, she’s there because of her seniority, but sometimes there’s not a lot of new people being brought into that. Every time I hear about a new years best it’s edited by John Q Whitefellow. When it comes to talking about stuff like World Fantasy and them not inviting and black people or women to be guests of honor for example. They just invite NK Jemisin and if she says no, they just go back to John Q Whiteguy. They say there aren’t enough others around. (They’re wrong.)

Nisi: When I edited an anthology, Nalo Hopkinson was asked to do it first. And she said no, you should ask Nisi instead. One thing we can do is keep pushing off the requests to someone else you know. I have edited three anthologies now and helped edit a few others. I make a spreadsheet and I track where are things coming from, what races are they, are they bi or queer or cis, et cetera. I don’t go for a quota but I am very conscious with trackable data about who I am getting.

Tempest: It’s good we have some editors who make an effort to understand things outside their understanding. I think Neil Clarke and John Joseph Adams do a good job with that. JJA does a good job because as the SERIES editor for a year’s best he brings in annual editors who are from more diverse points of view. He’s had Charles Yu and NK Jemisin. And then that influence rolls on.

Keffy: I do see a definite impact of my identity on my submissions. I see many more trans and nonbinary stories and authors than I did at Shimmer magazine. There I saw many women who were driven by the female editors there. As a transman I know that is impacting who feels comfortable submitting to me. But so is the fact I’m white. People want to hope they’re sending to a warm, welcoming place for them.

JR: The situation in my hometown in the theater community is very segregated. Nebraska has about a million people and it’s ridiculously segregated. There was busing when I was in school. I produced a show called Woman in Omaha. The show had women each given 5 minutes to do a thing under a pink tent. I told them I went to Omaha Central High School and I haven’t done anything at The Union, which is in the middle of the black area of town. Me and my husband were the only two white actors they had that season. I asked my friend Beau if she would co-produce with me. Most of the theaters in town will completely whitewash a cast. The white producers keep saying [non-white] people don’t show up to auditions. But it’s because they think they won’t be welcome in that space. Denise Chapman tells a story that a guy came in to audition with his dreads inside a hat like he was trying to hide it. She told him, look be yourself, and he just began to glow once he could be himself. I think A Woman in Omaha was really great and a moment of intersectionality. Anoterh example, we were doing Bubbly Black Girl Sheds Her Chameleon Skin; it is all about being a black woman in musical theater. And in the Q & A after this white woman in the back stood up and said “well, but why aren’t all of you auditioning at the Playhouse?” It’s because the Playhouse’s idea of being inclusive or adding diversity is to do The Color Purple and Raisin in the Sun.

Nisi: Which is like 60 years old. Let’s talk about is conflict inherent in inclusion? Does inclusion automatically mean exclusion?

JR: I hope inclusion doesn’t mean exclusion! I think it means I can walk into a room with people of diferent faiths but all have a respect from what each of us are doing. Discomfort in inclusion, when you have grown up as white as the default in Omaha, Nebraska, it can be uncomfortable to step out of that and realize white is NOT the default and then be scared to mess up and not be inclusive. If you’re not uncomfortable in a situation either you are not pushing yourself enough or you are comfortable in your little box.

Keffy: I think conflict is inherent in inclusion but it’s also just as much in exclusion. Conflict that has been externalized I brought inside and you have to deal with it. I think that’s where a lot of the discomfort comes from. It’s not about whether black actors get in the door, it’s about whether they’re being treated correctly once they’re inside. That’s part of it. It’s a reframing of the conflict that already exists. I don’t think inclusion automatically means exclusion, but sometimes inclusion just moves the exclusion line elsewhere. Like with the expanding acronym of LGBTQ etc where do you cut off the letters? Who is left off when the bus leaves the stop? I try to be aware of that. Being a queer magazine there are people who don’t think they’re being excluded.

Usman: Exclusion versus inclusion — usually exclusion is a variant of colonization. If someone is doing that, the end result is always supremacy of some sort. Whether it happens by set mechanisms or systemic change, conflict is going to happen. The other thing is you know we were talking about editors and submission before. ICFA and the sf/f world is very different from the MFA world and the horror world. A horror antho came out by a well-known, big-time writer and I was reading the TOC. Out of 27 stories, one was by a woman. That editor is a friend of mine. I brought it up, and he came on my page and got mad. I don’t think people are deliberately being evil. But people are too arrogant to admit that things should change. There is a lack of humility on the people who are perpetuating the system. Even in the LGBTQ community there can be that arrogance. Another thing when you are a 16 or 20 year old brown kid sitting out there, they don’t know what we’re talking about. This is a very European and North-American centric discussion. We are already excluding 90 percent of the world.

Tempest: Then people who are rarely excluded claim that inclusion makes them excluded. Like if there is a “slot” for a woman in an anthology they feel that slot might have been taken away from them. I had a conversation with a co-worker that every country has one representative in the U.N. He felt America should have a bigger say. But why? Why should that bother him? I was like: what are you talking about. Of course it should be one each. But he was thinking America is the best, we deserve more etc because that’s what he’s been taught. So in his mind automatically America should get more seats in the UN. But in anthologies they’ll say yeah these are the “best” even if they haven’t made any effort to reach out to other cultural contexts. They’ll say “You can’t ‘exclude’ these (white authors) because that’s exclusion!” There’s a weird sense of fairness to these people. When I did the reading challenge. This one guy was like “oh you’re right I’ve only read one women in five years!” But when I suggested he read only women for a year he was like “But that wouldn’t be fair!” like that was going “too far.” As if one year versus five would swing the balance too far toward women even though he just admitted that only reading one woman in five years was too little.

Nisi: I was doing a reading at a place in New Orleans through a college there. We went to a home in a neighborhood. Outside black kids were playing with their bicycles and baseballs and the organizers told me I want those kids to come to this reading because I don’t want them to think this isn’t for them.

Keffy: Many things have been improved by the Internet. In the days of postal submissions I would not get stories from Nigeria. So there is more outreach than there was. But I run into the problem that there are countries where if an author sent me a story they could be putting their life in danger. The Brazilian elections recently, they elected an extremely anti-queer president. He’s Super-Trump. But right after that, I went through my submissions and I had submissions from Brazil. There are people who are going that far to get their message out. Most of the people of color who send me things are part of a diaspora in some way, and rarely from the indigenous countries. It’s hard to reach out.

Usman: I think the organizations are very smug. SFWA and the others, they feel they are doing a lot of outreach. They don’t get a lot of funding. Arts have lost their funding. But we have Codex and SFWA and ICFA, but how connected are we with the rest of the world? When is World Fantasy going to be “World” Fantasy? It’s taken ten years for the most briliant writer in India to get a reprint into Nightmare magazine. The way we know about Vandana Singh and Maryanne Mohanraj is because we’ve MET them. They’ve been at the cons. What about all the out of the country writers?

Nisi: Yeah. A lot of the people I know are from Clarion West.

Tempest: But that’s where the whole rolling down the hill thing happens. You open the door a little wider each time. But for people outside the US it’s a different trajectory. The staff on the Writing Excuses cruise give a scholarship for writers of color. It’s a networking opportunity. We have all these people now in our network. Con or Bust is another organization that was started because of POC being economically disadvantaged.

Nisi: I tried to talk about this in an essay I wrote called “Unqualified.” One way you are made to feel unwelcome is by a high economic bar. Lowering that bar proves you are welcome. One who is really reaching out is Neil Clarke who is reaching out to people of different nations. About the cascading effect of when you open opportunities to clueful allies, if you open up to people of color, then again we can further that. Alex Jennings, Ghita, all of these are people stamped with the approval of science fiction credibility, and they can now open the road further for other people.

JR: I also want to talk about elitism here in the US that I see a lot of with my students. I run a playwriting workshop in a special ed program. Often they have never had a creative writing class of any kind, ever. I also work in low income public schools. A lot of the time there are refugees or kids in low income families and there is such a gatekeeping. You have to have a cover page. You have to use Times new roman font. Etc. Stories are rejected for these gatekeeping reasons. I have one refugee kid from out of the country and he had written a beautiful story. He had written it on his phone. We had to figure out how to get it off his phone. We had to figure out how to get it out of there and reformat it and all these things (and then it wasn’t even accepted). I went to an MFA program but not everyone can do that.

Nisi: Not everyone can take 6 weeks out of their lives for Clarion even if they get a scholarship.

Keffy: There are such problems with so-called standard manuscript format. I don’t really care. I get things in all kinds of fonts. It’s in Word. I just change it. There is no standard anymore. With postal submissions there was a high barrier to entry. But do any two magazines have the same format now? I had to copy my whole story into a notepad file to submit it in plain text into on magazine’s submission form… I decided never to do it again. Some of it is just… ugh. The thing is, I didn’t know anything about any of this until I started going to conventions. I would go to panels of editors, some of whom will remain nameless, but they would go on these tears about the (sarcasm) horrible things writers did like using the wrong font and how can anyone take that writer seriously? I have anxiety disorder so I was so worried I didn’t get absolutely everything right. I was afraid I didn’t speak the right lingo. So I am trying to make my submission handle-able for me and my co-editor. We have a submission form to make it doable for us, but it’s important when you are curating anything which things are really barriers to entry.

Tempest: What information someone has access to so often gets brushes aside. Someone types something into the Internet and they don’t know where they land has the wrong information. There are a lot of scammers out there. The people who get taken advantage of is because they accidentally landed in the wrong place. They weren’t dumb or not savvy. The only reason I know anything is I once opened the right promotional email and ended up here instead of the wrong place. and it must be even easier to land in the wrong place if you’re not from North America.

Keffy: Like JR said, there are a huge amount of places where they don’t have computers but they all have mobile phones. There are kids right now writing full novels in the back of the English class on their phone.

JR: There was a teacher at our school who was holding back giving notebooks to the kids because they had to “earn” them. Me and my boss were so mad at that. They are only reading white men from the 1930s and so if we go into the class and we say we’re going to write poetry they go “yuck! ugh!” because they think of writing as something that is for “him” and not for themselves. And I say no, we’re going to write what YOU want to write.

Nisi: OK, let’s open it to questions since we’ve got 45 minutes left. Oh no wait, only 15 minutes left! Where did the time go!

Tempest: We got talking.

(Then came questions from the audience but my fingers are cramping so I’m going to stop typing.)

from cecilia tan https://ift.tt/2Hp1KkE via IFTTT

[dragonshost]

Two’s Company

Look at me, doing my own challenge like a nerd.  I love 50 sentence challenges, but this is my first attempt at one.  It took a long time to finish, but I’m proud of and happy with the result.

Fandom: Fairy Tail Pairing: Minerva x Max Challenge: Link Dedicated to: @ahumanintraining & @lucienn​

1. Frisky

That Minerva was even capable of being frisky was not something that Max would have ever thought possible before the Grand Magic Games, but somehow knowing that even her playful side had a somewhat cruel tinge to it made it much more believable.

2. Eye

Discount train fares were slapped proudly into Minerva’s outstretched palm, much to her shock; Max’s eye for bargains was not to be underestimated, she decided, and something she would have to make use of if they ever went on another joint job.

3. Cat

“I’m sorry,” Minerva apologized, running a lint roller over her evening dress, picking up red cat hairs galore, “but this is probably going to take a while – what do you think about eating in, instead?”

4. Rose

It was a cliché, certainly, but Max had always been a sucker for the classics… and more to the point, it seemed that Minerva was as well, if the blush rising in her cheeks as she inspected the dozen long stemmed red roses was anything to judge by.

5. Guilt

As a spoon rapped upon his knuckles, Max let out a yelp and guiltily withdrew his hand from the bowl of batter Minerva viciously guarded.

6. Heroes

Minerva envied Max his view of the world – so bright and full of heroes to look up to, whereas her own childhood had contained only villains.

7. Spell

He wasn’t anything special to look at, painfully average even – so how was it that Minerva found herself so thoroughly under the spell of his smile?

8. Flawless

A flawless gem of any decent size was more than a little out of Max’s price range, but maybe something flawed would be better suited for them, anyway.

9. Badge

There was a small scar on Minerva’s eyelid – a hardly noticeable, tiny thing, a memento of her time as a demon – that Max would place a kiss upon every night; a badge of merit worth more to Minerva than any the Council could ever bestow.

10. Foam

Minerva stood in the surf, her arms gripping Max’s, as she tried not to giggle at the tickle of foam around their legs.

11. Believer

Most of her days with him were spent waiting for the other shoe to drop, for the day Max would inevitably figure out that she was damaged and not worth the effort, because one day it would, and she had never been a believer of fairy-tale happy endings in the first place.

12. Dancer

Lucy’s impromptu lessons way back when had not really improved Max’s capabilities as a dancer, as Minerva’s sore feet soon found out.

13. Eastern

Max thought maybe there had been a little more enthusiasm than necessary in their kiss for the fake couple act they were trying to pull off for the eastern border patrol, but he wasn’t so sure he minded.

14. Obsession

The rate at which the scruffy Fairy Tail mage was overtaking her daily thoughts was beginning to border on obsession, much to Minerva’s frustration.

15. Gift

An accounting tome hardly seemed an appropriate gift after all the wonderful memories and happiness he’d given to her over the past year, but he certainly did seem extremely excited when he unwrapped it.

16. Plaid

Plaid was definitely not a style Max wore well, but he did wear it proudly, legs akimbo, as Minerva laughed herself silly at his ridiculously scrawny limbs sticking out of the kilt.

17. Weak

To love was to be weak, Jiemma had told her many times, and to be loved was to be pitied – though she was finding that Max’s love made her feel strong, instead.

18. Judgement

This scruffy Fairy had no right to sit in judgement of her, of the things she’d had to do to survive.

19. Fight

An inter-guild brawl was truly something else, Max thought, carefully sweeping bits of the fight debris away from the comatose former combatants, but the warm light spilling from Sabertooth’s kitchen was good company, and so was the gentle humming emanating from within.

20. Monarchy

Max couldn’t help but think it was a bit rich to hear about the faults of monarchy as a government system when it was coming from someone with a former king-complex.

21. Purple

It may have been a faux-pas of the highest order to don the color of royalty at a party which boasted attendance of the genuine article, but Max thought Minerva looked truly stunning in her dress all the same.

22. Crawl

The whispered words of her many detractors didn’t usually crawl under her skin this much, though Minerva suspected it only did so now because she had changed for the better, even if only a few people acknowledged that fact.

23. Hook

It was a strange feeling, of hooks sinking into his very being, and Max sort of wished that his heart had chosen someone a little less dangerous to fixate upon.

24. Rebel

The strength it must have taken for Minerva to rebel against her father in all the little ways that she had was something Max would always admire in her.

25. Feather

Feather-light kisses trailing up her neck, Minerva believed that there was no better place in the world to be than here and loved so much.

26. Ocean

Max inhaled deeply – the breeze carrying with it the scent of the nearby ocean – and he rejoiced that he and Minerva were able to spend their vacation in such a lovely location as this resort.

27. Cryptic

Puzzling out the cryptic reasons behind Minerva’s seemingly unprovoked rages could be a chore and a half; the labyrinth of Minerva’s horrible upbringing hiding more monsters within it than Max would probably ever be permitted to fully understand.

28. Disorientation

Minerva woke up violently, her heart hammering in her chest, cold sweat plastering her clothes and hair to her skin, and found herself in a place she didn’t immediately recognize; it was only upon seeing Max’s sleeping face that the disorientation left over from her nightmares faded, and she was able to calm down once more.

29. Aquatic

Monsters of the aquatic persuasion and seafaring criminals, Minerva discovered, were a lot easier to deal with when one’s partner could create a sandbar anywhere and beach them with ease.

30. Mysterious

Max’s ability to talk about nothing for hours on end would never cease to be bafflingly mysterious to Minerva.

31. Scheme

Concocting a proper scheme to surprise Minerva for her birthday was a tricky proposition at best, but Max was more than willing to rise to the admittedly daunting occasion to make it the most memorable one for her yet.

32. Horizon

Their future together had always felt a transient thing, much like the setting and rising of the sun over the horizon, and yet… it always seemed just as inevitable, as well.

33. Pale

“You need to leave your shop and get some sunlight once in a while,” Minerva lectured her beloved, “and don’t even try to convince me that you already have because you’re paler than Yukino’s hair.”

34. Cheerful

It was an unspoken rule in Sabertooth that under no circumstances were Max and Sting to be left alone with each other for any length of time, or else their equally cheerful dispositions would lead the guild into something catastrophic for them all.

35. Opposition

“How does it feel to be dating the opposition?” Jason inquired of the pair, his enthusiasm for the topic only damped slightly by Minerva’s glare and prior threats upon his person should he even consider uttering the word, “cool,” again.

36.  Daydream

Sometimes, Minerva allowed her mind to wander to the future, her heart and soul filling with pleasant daydreams of a life spent happily with her favorite scruffy Fairy and children they might one day have.

37. Sprites

Malicious sprites were stomping all over her stomach, and Minerva wanted nothing more than to throttle them into submission, but that would have to wait until after she was done emptying said organ into the toilet while Max held her hair back for her.

38. Heartbroken

Her first miscarriage struck her harder than she ever thought possible, leaving both her and Max both utterly heartbroken, and unable to function for a long time; the second and third were, if anything even more painful.

39. Mother

Minerva wished that she had gotten to know her own mother, and some days she wondered if the woman was still somewhere out there in the world – and if maybe she’d be excited to know that she’d become a grandmother.

40. Birthmark

There was a small birthmark behind Max’s right ear that Minerva discovered one day – the blemish rendered extra fascinating by virtue of being in an extremely ticklish place for Max.

41. Amulet

It eventually came to pass that Minerva carried a small locket with her everywhere – an amulet of protection, containing the images of the people she loved most in the world: her husband and their child.

42. Metallic

Blood, metallic and warm, filled Max’s mouth – the unfortunate consequence of accidentally biting his own tongue in the middle of an impassioned retelling of how he’d met the mother of his child and a wound that Minerva would then proceed to tease him about for days.

43. Imprint

Their breaths hung in the air in pale clouds as they walked down the street together, bathed in the gentle glow of streetlamps and their feet following the imprints of frozen leaves on the cement laid out before them to mark the way to the guild celebration that awaited them at the end of their chilly trek.

44. Salt

It was a playful joke in their household that Max was generally discouraged from cooking meals due to his tendency to accidentally over-season anything he made rendering it inedible – though not with salt, but with the fine grains of sand that always stuck to his clothing.

45. Hybrid

Dread filled the pit of Minerva’s stomach – a gross hybrid of worry and foreboding clouding her thoughts as she ruminated endlessly on how Max should have come home from his job long before then, the feeling only alleviating when the welcome sight of his scruffy visage appeared in her doorway.

46. Ginger

Great surprise had consumed Minerva and Max at the sight of their newborn child, and the strange ginger-colored fuzz that covered the infant’s head; although it fell out eventually and was replaced with the same sandy blond as Max’s locks, they never figured out where that first shade had come from.

47. Bittersweet

Chocolate was best served up bittersweet, in Minerva’s opinion, but she would concede to making sweeter batches to suit Max’s tastes for Valentine’s Day, at least.

48. Tree

Flower-viewing beneath the rainbow sakuras was a must for the couple every year; Max insisted that the brightly hued petals sustained the soul and sitting beneath their splendor, Minerva was disinclined to doubt his words.

49. Bewitch

Although the flush of youth had long since faded from their bodies, Max found that Minerva’s smile could still utterly bewitch him.

50. Genuine

In a world where so little had been good for Minerva, the love and friendship she’d found in Max had been the most genuine thing she could wish for, and even at the end of it all, she knew she wouldn’t have changed a thing that had led to it.

[muthary]

Photosyntheticfox’s Questionnaire // PART 2

31. What do they identify as?

Genderfluid.

32. Do they have any allergies?

Nope! Nothing worth noting, except for maybe a plain response to seasonal pollens native to Vesuvia. That fades the longer they spend in Vesuvia though. Side note: they never just sneeze once, and hold their sneezes in. So when they sneeze, it sounds like tiny squeaks and their whole body jumps.

33. Do they have any other medical problems?

Just that they wear glasses! Such light eyes aren’t fit for the Vesuvian sun. They magic themselves better vision most of the time, but they definitely own frames.

34. What about mental health issues?

They show signs of depression, but not much else. It’s light after their revival because a lot of their trauma was forgotten.

35. What’s that personal hygiene regimen like?

Baths in the nighttime, sometimes midday, always with herbs, oils, and salts. They enjoy soaking in hot water and always wash their hair pretty frequently. They do shave and pluck their eyebrows, but usually on days blocked out for general self-care. Their hair takes up a lot of their time because of the braiding, plaiting, and hair jewelry. They brush their teeth and toothbrushes get replaced pretty frequently because of their heavy hand and sort of sharp teeth. They make their own soaps and body oils!

36. Favorite rock or gemstone?

Probably clear quartz for is universal use. Rose quartz as a close second because it’s pretty and helps them calm down.

37. Favorite tree?

Alder!

38. Favorite type of weather?

Quiet, crisp, misty mornings. The quiet sort where the fog is sort of thick and is good to hide in. During that sort of weather, anyone would have a hard time tracking Diorbhail down, since they’ll be the first person out on a day like that. If they could have it their way, there would be whole days like this, and they’d be the only person around for miles.

39. Least favorite type of weather?

Violent snowstorms.

40. What is their favorite season? (remember winter is summer and spring is fall)

They hated getting used to Vesuvian seasons. To keep their head from spinning, they still maintain that their favorite season is autumn, or at least when the weather is more on the cold side than the hot side, when the leaves change color, and when it’s time for Samhain.

41. How many languages could they speak before the memory loss? How many do they currently speak?

For ease, before the memory loss, they could speak “common” (the language everyone in Vesuvia seems to speak), gaeilge, and old norse. Gaeilge is only really spoken by the aos sí these days. After the memory loss, they still speak “common”, and because Asra attempted to reteach them their native languages from old books they had in those languages (as someone who could not understand a lick of any of them), Diorbhail has shaky, but sort of instinctual grasp on those other two languages. They can’t carry a conversation like they used to, but they’ll still use runes.

42. Do they sing or play any instruments?

They have a very soft, tremulous sort of voice that they used to sing old songs from their home country. Poetic Edda and old folk songs are what they’re good at. They’ve got a good voice for lullabies! As for instruments, they play an ocarina and a fiddle. The talent for the ocarina sprouted from the time they spent playing with reed whistles in the forest. 

43. What do they tend to joke about?

Nothing much. Sarcasm tends to rely on other people to work. They do like to tell old folktales and laugh about them because who on Earth thought that putting on a hat backward would keep you from getting taken away by fairies!

44. After a stressful day how do they relax?

A bath, incense, and a nap until they wake up near midnight, get a snack or a drink, and fall right back asleep!

45. Guilty pleasures?

They collect bones-- Animals bones, that is. Sometimes they’ll buy them, sometimes they’ll find in the forest already cleaned, sometimes they’ll visit a rotting corpse until it’s done decomposing and they can clean the bones left behind. Their room holds their collection. They’re used to odd looks whenever it’s somehow brought up, so they don’t ever discuss it with anyone. A bit more acceptable but still something they don’t like sharing: they have stuffed animal parts they keep, like tails and a rabbit paw. For charm reasons. The coyote tail and pelt they have on their person are things they made.

46. idiosyncrasies?

They can wriggle their ears without using their hands or changing their facial expressions! They also seem to be a very disorganized person but in a mess of random stuff, they know where every single thing is, or at least it’s general location. They notice the smallest bug or animal no matter where it is, as if they can hear the little larvae beneath the dirt as they wriggle around. They have a habit of staring, sometimes at people, sometimes at barren corners, and they space out while doing this. Lastly, they’ve got no issue with gore. 

47. How do they act when they first meet someone new? How quickly do they warm up to them?

At first, they’re quiet, observant, and very careful. Since they tend to have impeccable instinct, they’ll decide whether they want to continue talking to someone within the first couple minutes of speaking to them. If they decide they sense something off or annoying about someone, they’ll become terribly passive-aggressive and prickly to drive them off. If they decide someone is worth keeping around, they’ll enjoy friendly conversation, but it’ll take months or a year before they’re comfortable with a hug. Of course, there are outliers, but this is the general pattern they go through. Once they’re close enough to someone, they’re a big proponent of physical affection.

48. In what order would they prioritize Love, fame, money, power, and knowledge?

Knowledge, love, power, money, fame.

49. List four or more things they love to do

Sleep, nature walk/explore, forage in the woods, sculpt, weave, and read.

50. List four or more things they hate to do

Go to crowded places (this includes parties), argue with people, speak or sing in front of a large group of people, or organize themself according to someone else’s standards.

51. List five or more things they have said that sum up who they are

“Julian, you’ve got three seconds to get off your sorry arse before I haul you up myself.”

“I’ve grown real sick and tired of running around for others all the damn time.”

“I’m fine. Stop asking.”

“You can always choose your family.”

“Of course he’s bitter. Who would like coming back as a shriveled, hideous old goat man who’s missing an arm? Although, I suppose it isn’t much different from how he was in life.”

“Keep staring at me like that and I’ll show you how savage I can be.”

52. How do they react to (both verbal and physical) conflict?

Verbal conflict they don’t care for. They’d rather avoid it because it’s always a lot of hot air flying about. Physical conflict they’ll avoid as well, but if they must be involved, they won’t lose. They’re a bundle of brute force and stubbornness.

53. What kind of bad habits to they have?

They mumble to themself when doing everyday things and bite their nails when they’re nervous or just idle.

54. What kind of character faults do they have?

They’re stubborn and unwilling to accept help, especially for things involving their personal life. They’re also self-sacrificial and can be very rude for the sake of ending a conversation immediately, or keeping someone from getting too invested in them. In very specific situations, when they begin to see red, they don’t listen to anyone and may even lash out at anyone who may stand in their way, even if they only intend to bring Diorbhail back down to earth before they can hurt themself.

55. What’s their best trait in their opinion?

That they aren’t dependent on others. This is a misperception of themself though, since they do sometimes need others so they don’t self-destruct.

56. What do they think of their appearance?

They think they’re the most drab thing out there. If you said they were cute, they’d instantly deny and change the subject. They don’t like talking about themself. They also get a little self-conscious about their scars when someone points them out.

57. How do they interact with people in a position of authority?

Very tentatively, but they never show belly. If they deem that this person is a moron and undeserving of their authority, they’ll quickly begin acting defiantly and coldly. They never follow someone’s orders blindly.

58. Who did they look up to as a kid?

A curious fellow named Buile Suibhne. He healed their wounds when they were a child, and taught them to hunt and steal and listen to the trees. 

59. How do they interact with kids?

They're quite motherly! Very patient and playful with children. They’ll tell stories and teach them new things, too, like weaving or writing or natural correspondences.

60. Do they want kids of their own someday?

They worry if they’d make a good parent, but one day they might like a child. Two at the most. They sort of flip flop between daydreaming of a distant future and being convinced they’d ruin their child so they should just die an old, lonely crone.

61. Are they religious? If so what god/goddess or gods/goddesses do they worship?

They’ve interacted personally with the entities they pay their respects too, so yes. A lot of their magic is done with specific correspondences to spirits and gods, and they celebrate sabbats in the name of their corresponding deity. They worship Celtic and Norse gods, and reference them plenty whenever they feel that those gods are near.

62. What do they think the meaning of life is?

Just to exist. There is no ultimate goal to life. It’s just to exist and be a part of nature as you would.

63. What would they want their last words to be?

“We’ll meet each other again. Take care of yourself.”

64. What do they want to do before they die?

Return home to the forest they grew up in.

65. What/how do they want to be remembered for after they die?

A kind friend. A free spirit. Aside from this, they wouldn’t mind being forgotten.

66. How do they express affection?

In small gifts, in taking others needs into account, or in physical affection like hugs and kisses to the cheek or forehead.

67. What do they normally eat for breakfast?

Nothing! But if anything, bread and juice. They like a good croissant in the morning.

68. Do they like spicy food?

Yeah! They put hot sauce over their rice. You couldn’t really get spicy food where they’re from, so Vesuvia really opened their eyes to spice. They’re immune to capsaicin now.

69. Favorite fruit and or vegetable?

Diorbhail’s favorite fruit is a banana! Again, they only got to try one after getting to Vesuvia. Their favorite vegetable is a carrot.

70. Do they like sweets?

Yeah! They’re sorta picky about what sweets they eat, though.

[webuyhousessanantoniotx-blog]

Sell Your House Fast In San Antonio Texas

If you do not understand the foreclosure or probate process, then let us help as we are very experienced in both areas as we have been buying houses for 9 years. Let us buy your Bexar County Texas property now, regardless of it’s condition. We buy property fast in most any area of Texas. To sell your house fast in San Antonio Texas go to The Best Cash Offer website now.

Can't thank him enough for all he did to help us relocate to San Antonio, Texas. TEXAS TOP DOLLAR HOME BUYERS is RATED 5 STARS by REVIEWERS on YELP! Whether the continual payments are too high or a homeowner finds himself experiencing financial hardship, having your home seized by the courts is a real possibility. Even if a real estate agent isn’t able to sell your house, we’re still able to help! Moreover, hiring an agent will take the edge off of the stress that is commonly felt by both parties in the midst of a divorce settlement. This eliminates the potential for further disputes and can help in fast-tracking the sale of the home as the couple prepares to move on after a divorce. If your spouse keeps the home, don’t expect it to be smooth sailing in getting a mortgage for another home. Every day that goes by without selling your home, can result in additional expenses that YOU owe; more property taxes owed, another payment coming due and, of course, vacant houses are subject theft and vandalism.

Sell Your House Fast In San Antonio Texas

Our way of paying cash for houses is an advantage in its right. We’ll but it in 30 days or less, in cash. You can leave the repairs and renovations to us and get prepared to get instant cash from us. If husband and wife agree that an agent is not the quality person that they were hoping for, then it never hurts to get another opinion. Avoid agent fees, staging costs, open houses and other hassles. My name is Jacob, and We Buy Houses Anywhere In San Antonio And the Surrounding Areas at Any Price. We’ll buy your house in 30 days or less. If you have any questions about how I work, what the process of selling a house or just want to learn more, don’t hesitate to contact me anytime! If this is granted the executor does not have to ask permission from the court to sell the house named in the will. If the house is in terrible shape and you don’t want to (or can’t) fix it up… NO problem, we’ll deal with it for you. To sell your house fast in San Antonio Texas follow the link.

If you don’t desire to use the extra area on your own hard disk drive to hold the program, don’t overlook that one could delete the program when you have the important information. If you still have questions about our process…just give us a call at (210) 920-9000… or fill out the simple form on this site. And if you’re still not happy with what you find - give me a call. Individuals who become an executor may find different types of property that needs to be dealt with. Selling a San Antonio property is sometimes the only option to recover from a financial struggle. Though San Antonio is the ideal location for many homeowners, sometimes life can cause long-term residents to relocate. If the tenant doesn’t comply then the Sheriff’s department can step in. Selling your property can be incredibly frustrating…but it doesn’t have to be. You will not have to wait months for closing when you call us.

The beans and Mac were very tasty, both needed salt but I would rather have to add instead of too much! He knows so much about this university. Don't hope click here to get foreclosure help now. Are you at risk of losing your home to foreclosure? It’s true that you can often get a higher price for your home if you go through a real estate agent, but that higher price comes at a cost. We understand that there are as many reasons for needing to sell a home as there are homes for sale. Another option is to sell your house to a house-buying company. The total number of homes sold has consistently increased, as well as the median house price. Macaroni Chicharron: Well seasoned and the chicharron gives a nice crunch and meaty flavor, but is a departure from more traditional mac and cheese. Then we are here to make it happen. Appraisals are not cast in gold. If this is not possible, then when determining the sale price this should be taken into consideration. Buick Enclave Summit White GO FOR A TEST DRIVE!

You Decide If It’s A Fit or Not. This is applicable when a will was left but there were no debts secured by real property. We will never ask you to clean or paint or pay a contractor to do anything. I'm moving and want to get rid of my TV. Want to avoid big consequences of selling your investment property? By getting the right answers from this article and further research, the transfer of ownership should go smoothly. I call: Quality service! The tv comes with the original remote and can be tested before purchasing. Contact Us Today for All Your Real Estate Needs at (210) 920-9000! It's a class organization, and love the way they do things. Well, 11:30A on a Saturday was too late - all sold out. I've reached out to a few of them. When homeowners sell, they gain standing in an otherwise powerless situation. COACH HENSON: You thought I was watching film and interviewing coaches? It was barely used. That’s because we aren’t limited to our own resources. It features MagicTune, MagicBright, MagicColor. We proudly serve the communities of Corpus Christi, Dallas, Houston, Austin, Seguin, Alamo Heights, Olmos Park, Terrell Hills, Hildebrand, Riverwalk to the Alamo and beyond.

How to Make Your Home More Appealing to Sell Quickly

Sometimes, selling your house is not as simple as it sounds. In fact, this can be downright difficult if you do not know very well what you are carrying out. Even if you provide an agent in your favor, there isn't any guarantee you are making a procurement soon. Although you may be frustrated in doing what you've faced previously and the way to move forward down the road, there is no better time than now to really put more hours in the sales process.

Selling Through Auction This can be an obvious route that lots of would think about last measure. Indeed it probably ought to be a final option as in an auction you'll probably receive one of many lowest market values on your property. At an auction buyers are usually using cash or expensive bridging loans, for this reason they can be seeking to achieve a 40% discount to the present market value for the home. Also, approximately 50% of property's for sale at an auction are bank repossession's so you have to bare in your mind you are competing against stock how the banks are effectively dumping. Auctions may well not allow you to get the best return however they enables you to off load your premises quickly and completion typically takes place within four weeks.

Another common mistake made by home sellers in the present companies are in thinking that because their house appraised for a certain amount, they must be able to ask exactly the same amount when selling. The home appraisal process is much from perfect. It is based on comparable sales inside recent past although an appraiser may justify a better price with relevant comps, it is usually possible to justify a reduced selling price with comparable sales as well. Ultimately, any house is only worth what an able buyer would prefer to pay for it knowning that decision will most likely be according to additional options that exist in the area.

Before you position the house up for viewing depersonalize the spot. If buyers can be found in to see the best place filled with personal belongings and family pictures about the walls, they may struggle to picture their stuff there. You want the folks viewing your house in order to picture themselves living there and which makes it their property, and in most cases the simplest way to do this is usually to create a blank canvas.

By raising the sufficient funds from a quick property sale you'll be able to settle your mortgage and loan arrears. This provides a handy way of solving your financial troubles and in some cases has the benefit of selecting to be able to stay in your property and pay rent being a tenant from your period which is decided between you and the buyer. For those of you that are only in the difficult finances momentarily you might even have the chance of buying back your house in the foreseeable future when it's possible to to sustain a home loan again.

For more details on how to sell your house fast in San Antonio Texas go to https://www.moneysupermarket.com/money-made-easy/top-ten-tips-to-sell-your-home/.

[newstfionline]

‘We Are All Accumulating Mountains of Things’

By Alana Semuels, The Atlantic, Aug. 21, 2018

It’s easier than ever to buy things online. It’s so easy that Ryan Cassata sometimes does it in his sleep. Cassata, a 24-year-old singer/songwriter and actor from Los Angeles, recently got a notification from Amazon that a package had been shipped to his apartment, but he didn’t remember buying anything. When he logged onto his account and saw that a fanny pack and some socks were on the way, he remembered: A few nights back, he had woken up in the middle of the night to browse--and apparently shop on--Amazon.

He shops when he’s awake, too, buying little gadgets like an onion chopper, discounted staples like a 240-pack of gum, and decorations like a Himalayan salt lamp. The other day, he almost bought a pizza pool float, until he remembered that he doesn’t have a pool. “I don’t really need most of the stuff,” he tells me.

Thanks to a perfect storm of factors, Americans are amassing a lot of stuff. Before the advent of the internet, we had to set aside time to go browse the aisles of a physical store, which was only open a certain number of hours a day. Now, we can shop from anywhere, anytime--while we’re at work, or exercising, or even sleeping. We can tell Alexa we need new underwear, and in a few days, it will arrive on our doorstep. And because of the globalization of manufacturing, that underwear is cheaper than ever before--so cheap that we add it to our online shopping carts without a second thought. “There’s no reason not to shop--because clothing is so cheap, you feel like, ‘why not?’ There’s nothing lost in terms of the hit on your bank account,” Elizabeth Cline, the author of Overdressed: The Shockingly High Cost of Cheap Fashion, told me.

Shopping online also feels good. Humans get a dopamine hit from buying stuff, according to research by Ann-Christine Duhaime, a professor of neurosurgery at Harvard Medical School. “As a general rule, your brain tweaks you to want more, more, more--indeed, more than those around you--both of ‘stuff’ and of stimulation and novelty,” Duhaime wrote in a Harvard Business Review essay last year. Online shopping allows us to get that dopamine hit, and then also experience delayed gratification when the order arrives a few days later, which may make it more physiologically rewarding than shopping in stores.

Sites like Amazon have made it especially easy to shop. In 1999, the Seattle retailer patented a one-click buying process, which allows customers to purchase something without entering their shipping address or credit card info. It launched its Prime program in 2005, and now more than 100 million people have signed on to pay $119 a year for “free” two-day shipping. As a result, most other major retailers offer free shipping too. Returning stuff is a little more difficult--shoppers usually have to print a label and then go to the post office or a UPS or FedEx site to return packages. Many wait too long, or decide the hassle isn’t worth it because the stuff was cheap anyway. A recent NPR/Marist poll found that nine in 10 consumers rarely or never return stuff they’ve bought online.

Justine Montoya, a caregiver in Los Angeles, buys all sorts of stuff online--baby formula, clothes, household goods. She estimates that she shops online twice a week. “It’s just so easy--you click a button, and it’s on its way,” she told me.

In the last few months alone, I bought an $18 smart watch from Wish.com that I will probably never use, a second Kindle because it was on sale and I am worried my first Kindle is going to die soon, an electric space heater I no longer need, and a pair of wireless earbuds that I had hoped would allow me to charge my iPhone and listen to music at the same time, but that instead just fall out of my ears whenever I put them on. I also bought, on Amazon, a (used) book about hiking in the Sierras for $1.99, only to find the exact same book in a box of my stuff in my parents’ basement. I didn’t return any of it.

In 2017, Americans spent $240 billion--twice as much as they’d spent in 2002--on goods like jewelry, watches, books, luggage, and telephones and related communication equipment, according to the Bureau of Economic Analysis, which adjusted those numbers for inflation. Over that time, the population grew just 13 percent. Spending on personal care products also doubled over that time period. Americans spent, on average, $971.87 on clothes last year, buying nearly 66 garments, according to the American Apparel and Footwear Association. That’s 20 percent more money than they spent in 2000. The average American bought 7.4 pairs of shoes last year, up from 6.6 pairs in 2000.

All told, “we are all accumulating mountains of things,” said Mark A. Cohen, the director of retail studies at Columbia University’s Graduate School of Business. He sometimes asks his students to count the number of things they have on them in class, and once they start counting up gadgets and cords and accessories, they end up near 50. “Americans have become a society of hoarders,” Cohen said. Montoya said she has more stuff now that she has started shopping online: “It’s easier to accumulate more, and it’s easier to spend more.”

At the same time we are amassing all this stuff, Americans are taking up more space. Last year, the average size of a single-family house in America was 2,426 square feet, a 23 percent increase in size from two decades ago, according to the Harvard Joint Center for Housing Studies. The number of self-storage units is rapidly increasing too: There are around 52,000 such facilities nationally; two decades ago, there were half that number.

Of course, not everyone is a part of this hoarding revolution. There are people who can’t or don’t shop online, because they don’t have credit cards or because they are barely making ends meet. Only about 29 percent of households with incomes under $25,000 are members of Amazon Prime, according to Kantar Consulting. Some people are embracing the zero waste movement, or have followed the example of the author Ann Patchett, who published a widely-circulated op-ed in The New York Times about how she resolved to stop shopping for a year. When she ceased buying things like lip gloss and lotion and hair products, she started finding half-used versions of them under the sink, and realized she hadn’t needed new things after all. “The things we buy and buy and buy are like a thick coat of Vaseline smeared on glass,” she wrote. “We can see some shapes out there, light and dark, but in our constant craving for what we may still want, we miss life’s details.”

But most Americans are not curtailing their shopping habits. And as consumers demand cheaper clothing, electronics, and other goods, manufacturers are spending less to make them, which sometimes means they fall apart more quickly. The share of large household appliances that had to be replaced within five years grew to 13 percent in 2013, up from seven percent in 2004. Cheap clothes might lose their shape after a wash or two, or get holes after a few tumbles in the dryer; electronics become obsolete quickly and need to be replaced. While some of this stuff can be recycled or resold, often, it ends up in landfills. In 2015, the most recent year for which data is available, Americans put 16 million tons of textiles in the municipal waste stream, a 68 percent increased from 2000. We tossed 34.5 million tons of plastics, a 35 percent increase from 2000, according to data from the Environmental Protection Agency. Over that same time period, the population grew just 14 percent.

“Sometimes, people sit down and cry when they see the amount of garbage we produce in a day,” said Robert Reed, a spokesman for Recology, which handles recycling for West Coast cities like San Francisco. Centered in America’s tech capital, Recology has seen an increase in discarded electronics, including products with lithium batteries, Reed told me. In 2016, a lithium battery fire burnt down a waste management facility in San Mateo.

The 16,000 students who live in dorms at Michigan State University left behind 147,946 pounds of goods like clothing, towels, and appliances when they moved out this year, a 40 percent increase from 2016, according to Kat Cooper, a spokeswoman. The university packs up these goods and donates to them to its surplus store, so that incoming students can buy used, rather than new, stuff. In recent years, dorm cleaners have been finding so many packages of unopened food and toiletries that the university started a program to get students to donate leftover food and toiletries to local organizations like food banks when they move out. This year, it collected 900 pounds of personal care items and 4,000 pounds of nonperishable food items to donate. Pomona College has seen the volume of packages delivered grow by 325 percent in the last 12 years, according to Patricia Vest, a spokeswoman; it, too, asks students to donate unused goods to a resale program. This year, it diverted 42 tons of clothes, furniture, and office supplies.

The Internet has also made it easier to recycle some of the stuff Americans buy and no longer want. Online consignment shops like thredUP and Poshmark help people buy and sell clothes from their closets. Secondhand stores like Goodwill have moved online, too, selling the growing pile of goods they get on the Internet.

But the ability to easily get rid of stuff may be making people feel a little better about buying things they don’t need, and motivating them to buy even more. On a recent weekday, I stopped by the massive warehouse where workers from Goodwill of San Francisco, San Mateo and Marin sort donations to Bay Area stores. Some of the stuff that’s been donated has never been used. Near the front of the warehouse stands a rack of clothes with their original tags on--a $245 blue Nicole Miller cocktail dress, $88 Kit and Ace pants, a pale green J. Jill blouse. “We are seeing items that have been barely used or not used, because when people shop online, it’s a lot of work to return it,” William Rogers, the president of the Goodwill, told me. Rogers himself is guilty--when we met at the warehouse, he dropped off four wall sconces he’d bought a year ago on Amazon. He had tried to put them up, decided they didn’t look good, and brought them to donate.

Secondhand shops can’t resell all of the donations they get. Cline estimates that 85 percent of the clothing that is donated to secondhand stores ends up in landfills every year. Just nine percent of plastic that ends up in the municipal waste stream gets recycled, according to the EPA, and only 15 percent of textiles get recycled. It can be difficult to take apart clothes and re-use the fabrics, Cline said, so lots of clothing in the waste stream gets sent to the developing world, used for rags, or sent to a landfill.

Fifty years ago, the science fiction writer Philip K. Dick coined a phrase for these “useless objects” that accumulate in a house: “kipple.” In Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep?, which served as the basis for the movie Blade Runner, he theorized that “the entire universe is moving toward a state of total, absolute kippleization.” Kipple reproduced, Dick wrote, when nobody was around. The ubiquity of mobile devices and the ease of online shopping have made Dick’s prediction come true, with one small tweak: Our kipple does not just multiply on its own, every time we turn away. We grow it ourselves, buying more and more of it, because we can.