#who am i to stifle a kid’s Creative Vision …

[oflgtfol]

im becoming the designated sunday craft person which i like bc i love being paid to just do crafts for 2 hours AND i like doing crafts AND its making me get better at interacting with kids. im still awkward but im also just an awkward person in general so i feel like im becoming less Uniquely Awkward Around Children because of this

[mimithings97]

ABSTRACT ft BOB ROSS (M) - JJK

Summary: Paintbrush in one hand, joint in the other and you sitting on his dick is what Jeongguk wants. And what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

Genre: smutPWP, timid crack, established relationship

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: jeongguks horny! getting high, body painting, fingering, oral (both receiving), edging, slight subJK, unprotected sex, cockwarming, masturbation (fem), dry humping

A/N: Jeongguk being on his Bob Ross thing to help us through quarantine had me inspired. Fr Bob Ross was a legend. This gets steamy btw

Also pls stay safe everyone and don’t be selfish. Enjoy x

*Masterlist Link*

*Bold italic is JK speaking Korean*

“Tap it off… and just beat the devil out of it.”

“JEONGGUK FOR THE LOVE OF JESUSSS!”

“Isn’t that fun.”

“...What? Just doing what he tells me to do.” 

And he persists, batting brush to easel with a rate of knots only a testament to how fast he jacks off. It sends diluted paint across the room so you’re left as a life size dot to dot, with splatters lining your lips down to the hem of your shirt and it’s cold and wet, and this isn’t what you signed up for when he said ‘couples bonding’. 

“I’m fucking soaked.” He scoffs, that man sized brain of his conjuring a classic. 

“That’s what she said.” 

You’re four hours deep, and four hours too many by your standards. Jeongguk was always an avid painter at heart, finding joy in the freedom of all things creativity, but he was also a perfectionist, a competitor. It led him from tutorial to tutorial, because, whilst he’s got portraiture down, his landscaping needed a little brushing up - mind the pun - and it was only an amount of time before you stumbled across a Bob Ross tutorial in all things serene and panoramic.

You shake yourself off in some attempt to help the splay of wet paint and to ease your job with the washing machine later, and lean back on your heels to gather your bearings. Yet, Bob still drones on despite your misery, and your boyfriend’s all too eager to comply with his every word.

“Jeongguk!” 

He’s laughing off to himself, easily pleased in the scheme of all things pensioner humour, but murmurs off a halfhearted ‘yeh’ in your direction to ease where he knows you’re about to nag.

“Look at me!” 

He does. And it throws you off a little because he eyes you once over, twice and a third time before settling his gaze on your breasts - easily pleased for many more things than just Bob Ross.

“You’re messy.”

“Yeh fuck I am! You listen to Bob more than you listen to me, cockless.”  

He quirks an eyebrow, and shuffles so the laptop settled between both your easels can be paused, leaving Bob frozen in time and you to deepen your scowl.

“Yeh, um, cockless, cool... Bob tells me how well I’m doing and lets me hit paint brushes on wooden sticks. You don’t even let me feed Sassy nugs of weed when you sure as hell fucking know she’s a stoner cat.” 

Jeongguk was deep into his second joint after he fucked the first two paintings up enough he put a lighter to the edge of each. He even questioned using them as a roach, and you became one step closer to pleading insanity to your landlord and bolting the fuck out of you joint tenancy. But then he got you high and you persevered.  

Four more questionable and highly abstract paintings later, he’s got the hots for Bob, and you're left staggering on your words to rope him into lucidity again. 

“Guk, he’s a virtual man with 4 million followers, don’t take it personally and-.”

“But-” You deadpan, and point your paintbrush with emphasis. 

“And you know full well Sassy gets baked anyways off of fumes. The smoke gets in her fur as well and it was me” he looks innocently at you, muted by your outburst, “who got clawed when she had to be bathed. So tuck your balls away from Bob, and sober up!” 

He’s quiet. As are you. And even Bob lies dormant off in your peripherals. 

The room grows small as you size each other up, paintings left aside with the sole purpose of being witness to argument, and you think he might just look hot with his nipples standing cold against the open air and abs rolling beneath the line of his sweats. 

He’s on the same wavelength: 

“I can see your tits through that shirt.” 

You take a quick peak yourself, eyeing from one to the other, ignorant of the double chin you’re exposing, but all in the name of making sure the ladies stand perky. He’s got a glint beneath the surface now when he eyes your chest, and the paintbrush in his hand falls a little limper. 

“Yeah?” 

“Mmm.” He tongues his lips. Hungry. 

Self control in such a situation as this seems important. The ability to stand your ground no matter where your argument lies on the scale of idiocy. If you curtail into being seduced, he might still make you wash the shirt yourself, figure Bob Ross is a turn on and have Sassy seeing smoke rings by the end of the night. No. You’re not a pushover.

He’s an inch closer when you break the silence, the tumbleweed rolled aside. 

“Turn it around. Let me see.”

“Ey?”

He’s horny and you’re not playing ball, something his brain can’t quite transfer to his dick yet.

“Turn yours around I wanna see how you did.” You give a nod in the direction of his painting. A spout of curiosity as to what monstrosity he’s conjured this time, but also a distraction, something for him to latch onto aside from your chest. 

“I thought we wait til the end. It’s unfinished.” And one thing Jeongguk hates being is unfinished. 

“Baby, Bob’s been overworked tonight and I wanna light the last spliff.” You air a finger and twizzle it, “give it a whirl.”

Being the competitor he is, Jeongguk plasters a smile and spins his easel, the pride practically radiating from him with the way he eyes the two trees and awkwardly sculpted sky. The clouds are askew and the lighting is directioned all wrong, in fact, it’s more a Picasso than a Mozart, blocks of colour screaming attention rather than the realism Bob was hoping for. 

“What’s it abstract for.”

Jeongguk frowns because your tone clearly isn’t close to praise and that’s what he’s learnt to expect. What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. Tonight's seen enough of your short fuse, however, that he’s not in the running for your good books. 

“Jagi-ya,” he pleads, “you know I speak in small English only when I’m stoned.”

You don’t even attempt to stifle the giggle. His eyes are round and his neck’s falling into his shoulders. A defence mechanism he’s well versed in because he knows it gets you in the feels. The jagi too.

“Yeh and this is how you paint when you’re stoned,” he eyes the work he’s made like your words have got him curious, like he’s never seen the capability of a weed induced state on canvas, “your lines get all boxy.”

He shifts, putting criticism to the test as he takes in his artwork from a new vantage point. In the meantime, the final joint lays naked and unused, almost sculpted like it was made for your fingertips. So you appease it’s calling and bringing tip to mouth, lighting the end until the embers begin to wisp away into smoke. Jeongguk breaths in like he wants it, but there’s an epiphany in sights instead.

“Mmm, it’s more like Picasso,” that’s my boy.

“Exactly!” 

“...Bob doesn’t accommodate for high people.” He takes the joint when you offer it. 

“Guk! That was a big word!” And he earns himself a kiss on the cheek, perhaps a hand to fiddle with his shoulders too, because those muscles aren’t gonna touch themselves. 

He drags long and hard. A third joint kind of high taking hold from where his eyes grow thinning and his posture caves into your touch. 

“Heard it on University Challenge,” you scoff at him. Since when was that on cable, “figure if I watch it enough I’ll be just as smart as them.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works, bubs.”

Your hands grow fond of his skin, and it’s only when he leans away to trash the fumes away on a burnt out scrapped painting that you realise he finished all the weed. Guk’s a kid in a pram when it comes to sharing his green goods. He compensates with good sex though. 

And it’s where his mind lies - beneath the thin layer of your white painting top, a scrap piece of clothing donned for only the messiest of times. He seems to find inspiration in the idea. 

“Jagi.” 

“Mmm,” the air buzzes somewhere between stoned and excited with how he eyes you. 

“Let me paint you like one of my Korean girls.” It’s said in a tone laced with enough lust that you ignore the reference and are turned on by the novelty of being painted. And you know he doesn’t mean Jack and Rose kind of style.

You offer him a smirk. 

“How d’you want me.” 

Jeongguk nips at his bottom lip and lets his mind and dick go wild at the thought of free reign. The contemplating drags on, but when his eyes settle on how your pussy lies just south of the hem of your shirt, he’s struck a vision.

“Back, legs spread, and shirt off- wait, no, actually, shirt on.” 

He’s easy to comply with in the circumstances of things stoned and shirtless.

Your head is light, limbs soft when they stretch against the carpeted floor and you’re so prepared to be a canvas you’re wondering if maybe Bob had turned you on a little. And everything grows that bit more ambient, strewn into background noise. The paints you’d used now only exist with purpose of your skin, the Sam Cooke vinyl, now on its fifth round, is merely a melody to curl your toes to and the chiaroscuro lighting serves for the curve of your cheekbones only.  

He’d call you artwork if only it did you justice. 

“It’s cold.” He readies you.

His forth fingertip is crimson red. You think it’s a tester for temperature until he runs it down your thigh. A bold stroke for a starting place, but Jeongguk was never shy with paints.

“Mmm, yeh, cold.” 

“You like it?” He asks like he wants to be in tune with you.

“I can get to like it.” 

What you mean is you can get to like your boyfriend, in his half naked glory, playing temperature torture on your skin. 

He’s beautiful like this. A little lost in the high, but even deeper in the depths of you and your body and your lips and how you lay for him. A shy boy at first now with the pick of the litter. And he’ll take his pick wisely.

“So pretty.” You’ve got enough understanding to writhe in the praise, “Can I ruin your top?”

You are high, careless and ultimately curious. 

“Yeh,” and the shirt was fucked anyways. 

He pulls up the palette next to him, drawing a sketch with his eyes because paint doesn’t allow for takebacks and twiddles the brush in circles with practised ease. 

“Close your eyes for me?” 

“Ey?” You question. 

“Please, just, for now.”

And you’ll blind yourself for the sake of surprise, but now you’re sure you’ll just end up playing guess the drawing through touch alone, a mimic of what Jeongguk does on your naked spine in the mornings when you’re allowed a lie in. 

It’s cold, he’s right, that first stroke. And it dances close to where your breasts hang. 

“Can I touch you down there too?” 

OH fuck yes. Multitasking you can get on board with. 

“Please.”

He’s straight to it. A quirk on the line he was painting down you because suddenly he’s got you pleading and wet in unintentional places. 

“You plead so nicely for me, jagi. So good.” You gush to the tune of his native tongue.

It’s all at once. An overload of the senses. Sam Cooke a soulful prayer in time with your boyfriends hum. There’s a perfect juxtaposition of nimble fingers on your clit and a flat planed brush streaking unabashedly on the cotton against your nipples. It’s cold and hot and light and dark and everything in between. It’s sexy. 

You delve headfirst into the pleasure of it all, throwing an arm over your eyes and allowing the moans to spew and your body to convulse a little every time you’re hit with a newly loaded brush. Your body brews up a tempest and yo-

“DONE!”

Oh. 

You’re panting. Soaked to the bone beneath your silk panties, and when you open your eyes, everything is in disarray. 

The lust felt when in the thrones of your imagination is suddenly scattered, albeit, Jeongguk still looks like a feast. Because Sam Cooke doesn’t sound so harmonic and your skin doesn’t glow as bright when you assess the masterpiece you’d been distracted by. 

“YOU GAVE ME PICASSO TITS!”

Fucking Picasso tits! 

You’re horrified. And Jeongguk looks like he’s won the lottery. 

“Yeh. Jagi! Abstact!” 

“It’s abstract…” you whine.

Tugging and pulling at the hem of the cotton in some attempt to render the mess undone is your stress ball . Something to help it or just unsee it. Anything. But it’s useless, because the display is etched in primary colours only, a demand for attention that your Vanish Ultra won’t even touch the sides on.

Your eyes fume when they meet his crescents, “and you gave me square tits you freak! I have perfectly good tits, underneath, and this top was clean before you violated it!” 

There’s enough rage in you to stand and peel the wet shirt from your body, only to find a coloured imprint on your skin and bra that seeped through the thin fabric. Pick a younger man, they said. It’ll be fun, they said. Hildy can shove fun up her ass.

“Baby, it’s kind of funny.” 

“Its not- its-,” he’s laughing. You’re exasperated. Both high. And maybe Hildy had a point once you let go of the burdens of sensibility and just crave what he’s having. Go, fat, high, fun. 

“Gukkkkkkk.” So you end up whining. And, you don’t resist when he’s off his feet and drowning you in his chest, muscles vibrating to the tune of his giggles. 

“Like, now, whenever we Bob Ross paint, I get to be reminded of the time I squared off your boobs then sexed you real good.”

You scoff from under his armpit, but refuse to depart from the embrace. He’s got a sweaty smell you only like on him and there’s nothing like Jeontits in your face. 

“Never Bob Ross painting again and you’re not sexing anything, perv.” 

“No?” 

“Mm-hm,” he giggles over your dramatic head shaking, a true fan of you when he’s got you swaddled and in that high happy place. Jeongguk also, whilst he won’t admit it, likes owing you something. Likes poking and prodding at your sensitivity until he’s got something to make up for - he’s a people pleaser, what can he say. 

So it’s a kiss here and a peck there. A mouthed map from shoulder to jaw before you’re the one to shift until your mouths align. 

“I’mhard y’know.” Tongue deep into yours because he’s got nothing to hide.

“Mmm, and you’ll stay that way.” 

But he really is oh so hard. His sweats hold little surprise under the surface because Jeongguk forgoes underwear on his days off and there’s a perk to his chest from his lunchtime weights set. It’s a self control that the weed in your brain isn’t quite abiding to.

“Jagi, come on,” the way his stance has a gain on your height means he can find friction where your groin lays. The perfect snuggle for his length to cant up into. He’s teasing himself, and pining for the quirk in you that’ll have him squirming later. 

“Guk. You’ve stained my top. You’re not about to cum on my La Perla panties.” Yet he’s driving himself deeper into a painful withdrawal. And he can’t wait. 

“You wore them without anything on your legs. You should know the risk,” his lips dance from collarbones to shoulder as he indulges in your skin, “You get me so hard, Jagi. So hard it hurts,” he’s biting whilst he ruts, “yet you tease me. How can you do that?” 

Your resolve won’t crumble, but you may indulge a little. Press encouragement beneath his boxers and under the small of his back so he can carry himself away in the friction. He glows in it. 

“Urgh, god.” 

“Mmm, you still can’t cum you know that.” 

Frantic. He nods frantic, and rolls his eyes back harder. He’s got balls so tight from the weed induced delusion that he’s lost in, but he knows you’ll have them blue and him mewling soon.

“Want it.” Submissive Korean sounds almost too good on him. He bows into your shoulder and grunts words, understandable in content, but so much more in context. An unfiltered, raw need he can only express in his way. 

You almost give in. 

Almost.

“Jeongguk, stop- stop.” He stills, and is pliable enough that you can cup his jaw tightly and meet him at eye level where he’s hazy. There’s a smirk nestled deep too because you let him go this far.  And you got riled up in the process. 

You eye him. Hairs flicking out from the thin headband he donned for painting and painting only. There’s a shine on his skin you can’t ignore and he’s so damn beautiful when he glows with want. Your man. A ‘my eyes only’ specimen except you get to touch. 

So you do, hands to peck that draw up and down until you play peek a boo with his tip between the flap of his sweats. It’s the crimson that stains your thigh and the glossy look he’s edged himself to. You’re ravenous. 

“Jagi, don’t just look. I’m dying here.”

You take one final glance, watch it bob when your nails scrape his abs and then quirk a look his way. 

“Mmm, I’m still angry at you.” You’re not. Not really and never were. Just wanted something on him so you’d have him like you do now:

“Take it out on me” He doesn’t stutter. Doesn’t smile, smirk or indicate humour. Ready to risk it all. 

“Lie on the sofa how you want it then… and them,” you once over the material on his legs with your finger, “off.”

He’s so compliant when he’s hard and no one will ever find you complaining at the notion. 

There’s easles to dodge and paints that threaten to brim onto the wooden floors, but your apartment never had ‘perfect’ written on the lease, so you’ll let him settle his clothes haphazardly - teetering on messy. 

You follow the path he’s strewn, bra off to join his boxers, until you settle your knees against his, shadow elongated on his face by the direction of the sunlight and hair swept over to one shoulder. His eyes follow your curves. 

“Will you touch me now?” He’s craving and the concept has your mind whirling and eyes stuck on where he’s hard. You’ve only now come to notice the way he sits on his hands, wrists dug into the sofa from the pressure of his thighs. Filthy. It’s filthy that he edges himself for sport. 

With a twitch at the side of your mouth because there’s a million and one different ways to have him crying, you descend so skin is on skin and he’s captive to you. Drunk in the way he looks. Nervous in the way his dick twitches. 

“How d’you want me to touch you?” 

“Any way, fuck, any way.. Please.” The pleasantries aren’t necessary. He’s at your mercy physically but this boy’s got a hold on you like no other, enough that what Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets.

“Here?” His dick is expecting when he sees your hand move in his peripherals. It’s sure and ready for your touch. But then you moan. Eyes roll back just like when he touches your cl-, “Is here good, Guk?” 

“Oh fuck.” You’re two fingers deep and a palm to your clit. He’s taken note in the way you touch yourself before, mutual masturbation a 2 month-in kind of job, but this is different. Your pussy makes him salivate and the way you touch yourself makes him feel all too primitive. Like he’s never heard a girl moan before. “Jagi. Come on.”  

It’s so damn hot to you that his dick sits there untouched, hips still glued as though he’s unaffected. You’re tuned in, though, to those things that tell you otherwise. The strain on his neck from where his bottom jaw clenches. English sidelined because he can’t think straight. His dick bobbing every time you hit an upstroke into yourself and the squelch rings out. He’s so damn horny, but he’ll wait on you. Knows seeking the end untouched is like drinking water after parching in the desert. 

“So beautiful. You’re so beautiful. The way you touch yourself is beautiful too.” His eyes are fluttering and he can’t look away from you. It has you shamelessly moaning. “God I’m hard.”

You laugh, knuckle deep and feel the spasm of your walls. He’s really hard with precum immodest and when you meet his eyes again he’s vulnerable, too thirsty, maybe, for what he’s subjected himself to.

You’re left wanting, “I really wanna taste.”

“Jesus.” Jeongguk whispers under his breath, throws his head back for good measure because he’s got a visual before the main course has even happened. “You can’t be so shameless, it has me thinking things.” Vivid, things. 

And his imagination plays out in real time when you descend onto the wooded floor. He stutters, splutters on his tongue when you’ve got long nails all up in his groin.

“F-fu- wait, Jagi, wait wait wait, jagi.” You’re an inch off, breath catching his tip and so close you can smell him. God you want a taste. “I’m- You can’t just.”

Ohhhh. 

“You’ll cum?”

He’s not ashamed, embarrassed or anything in between. Just the longing for more, eating away at him, and knowing he’s a gonner in less than a minute if you’re to lick him. 

“Just, fuck, Y/N. Just kiss me.”

You do. The head of his dick too appealing not to offer a peck to. 

“Fuck.” He hisses it between his teeth and seeks refuge under an arm as to not concern himself with the way your tits look under him. “Not ther-” but not all cravings can be fixed, and you’ve got a mouthful. 

His hand jerks out from where it situates beneath him. The dilemma as to whether his dick can handle the back of your throat, seemingly easier to combat if he can claw at his thighs. But you’ve fallen into a rhythm despite the discomfort of hard floorboards and empty walls, and he’s keening for it, low moans and harsh breaths when your throat constricts. 

“Jagi, I real- oh shit, I really might cum.” You want him to. But the look that glazes over him when he’s edged is too good to wait for. Hit hits your throat deep, “fuck fuck fuck fuck,” hands thrown into your hair because he thinks maybe he wants you to stop.

But there’s the edge, and for a second he thinks he’s too far past it, balls tightened and his chest caves at the promise of lodging a load in your throat. 

“Fuck!” You’re off him and shuffled back before he can cry wolf. Jeongguk helplessly grasps at his base, and screws his eyes tight to curb the feeling of blood rushing everywhere. 

You’ve got a vantage point like no other. A vista genuinely for the ‘my eyes only’. 

His chest violently rises and falls and his thighs shake at the same rate. It’s hard to reserve yourself from kissing up his legs, so you don’t, soft nips where the seam of his trousers would run and even though he was driven to maximum sensitivity, he wants you as close as you are.

You litter the expanse of his body until he can vent the lost orgasm into your mouth. A rage of tongues and spit that has your centre warm again. But he mellows out into you and plays seduction. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm,” you speak amongst the twine of lips. 

“Let me kiss you.. Down there.” His eyes plague with sincerity. A wholehearted desire to taste you and taste you again, and you’re one to oblige. 

The sofa, whilst a two generation hand-me-down, offers more comfort than the floor and you bask in being pampered when Jeongguk lowers your front to it, situating a littered pillow below you to accentuate the curve of your back. Your behind sits bare with panties discarded and you look beautiful enough he’ll tell you. 

“Look at your body Jagi. How can you be mine?”

It’s unnerving being like this. Subject to alien words and a stare you can’t dilute. But it’s a package deal and Jeongguk doesn’t take long to offer the incentive. 

“Smell nice too.”

He traces the curve of your back with his palm the same way he strokes you between your legs. Fluid and warm and...

“Goddd, that’s good.”

Jeongguk basks in all things praise. An inflation to his own high. So he hums approval into you as you begin to writhe. 

You bite back the urge to push into him and seek a salacious end, frantic in the heat of lust, but Jeongguk keeps a controlled hold on you and eases the pressure away from the good spots, just so it’s better when he comes back for more. 

“Mmmm, good, good there.” Where he’s spreading you and planting muscle deep. He doesn’t resist the temptation to go north either and explore tighter areas, and he hums a smile when he garners an entirely different noise from you because, fuck, that’s sensitive.

“Jeongguk, oh- I might cum.”

“Yeh?” He’s in you and around you and kneading at your cheeks like he’s rallying himself up. He is. Running his body in time with your movement so there’s a subtle rut to edge himself to.

“Yeh.”

“I want that. Bad.”

You’re loud and knocking on the door of something breathtaking, now that he’s left romance for dead. He wants you to cum, and hard 

Fumbling an arm behind you until you can grapple onto the hairs of his head does little to prevent the sensation, the quaking and the tightening. He’s sinking a thumb against your rim and a tongue in your pussy and you indulge in it all.

“Shitshit oh my fucking god.” 

He moans when you strike gold and pulse from every point of your being. Entrapped in that disembodied feeling where everything’s too good and all at once. It lags and Jeongguk’s hands purchase hard when you clench on his tongue. 

“Shit.”

He lets you down easy though, mindful of all of the places that could be a cause for over-sensitivity - save that for another day - and nuzzles into your thigh. 

The need to move lingers whilst you carry yourself away into the thrones of exhaustion, mind fizzing as you boyfriend sucks the meat of your ass with tempt. He’s wanting and you’ve got a craving to see him cum, but everything's numb. 

“Jagi.”

“Mmm.” 

You feel him before see him crawling up you, his front flush to you just as a means of exaggerating where he lays hard and in wait. He let you edge him and made you cum, a cause for a gold star among other things, so you flip over, careful not to knock him where it hurts, and pull at the straggling hairs the band can’t accommodate for. 

“I want you. I want you really bad.” He feels selfish for feeling like it’s his right to claim an end. But there’s a genuine cause for concern that he’s been hard for so long, and will be as long as you lay bare and beautiful, and the biology of the situation isn’t just coincidental with his want. 

But he kisses you soft and the sense of obligation dissipates into the desire to see him undone. 

“You gonna fuck me?” He’s desperate to, and you laying pliant beneath him has his lust escalating quickly. 

“Yes, yesyesyes jagi.” But as to not cum to quick he settles into stroking his length between where you’re wet. The sensitivity has lessened, but the rush of blood still is a cause for a grimace. Jeongguk kisses it out of you, settling into a rhythm of tongue then teeth then tongue then teeth. You’re lost enough, he’s sinking into your walls unhinged. 

“Fuck.”

“God, how can you feel like this every time.” He’s driven to the edge of insanity with every feel of your walls, like a first time every time, uncharted territory he wants to explore as soon as he’s explored. 

You grapple from the sweaty hairs that line his neck to where his muscles contract and sink now that he’s easing you into compliance. Not that it wasn’t easy to. But your walls, spent previously, make the glide a little harder in the promise that it’ll make him cum quick. 

“You good? This good?” He caters for you in a strained plea. 

“Amazing. God. A little faster.”

He’s sure to combust, purchasing his mouth on your neck and choking grunts into the skins there when his hips begin to snap and balls begin to ring an echo onto the four walls.

“Fuck jagi. Thank you. God, thank you.” He prays to your pussy as his abs clench in the knowledge that he’s teetering on the edge. Every run against you has him keening. 

“Hold me.” He nestles his cheek to your hair until your breaths are synced, “don’t cum yet. Please, god-hm,” you choke, “don’t cum.”

“Oh god, oh god,” he’ll get you there, but he’s sweating out the urge to spill into you. He wants to see you done, hear you moan, have you every kind of euphoric. So he licks his thumb quick and has it in between you and on your clit quicker. A pressure and nothing more because he knows what hurts you. 

He’s hissing at the strain, but you’re left in hopeless moans. 

“Cumming, baby, cu- fuck.” There’s nothing stopping the assault of your walls on him as everything tightens and then releases. You quiver into him. 

“Oh, you got so tight. Fuckfuck, oh god.” Jeongguk gives into it, too, when his body shudders and he pulls you tight, “ah,” spilling everything and it’s so hot but he’s heady enough that none of it matters. 

You bask in that feeling for however long, lulling his shakes with a trail of nails through his hair down to his back, and nuzzle where your cheeks meet. 

His back rises and falls and rises and falls and it’s all things soothing. 

So you whisper lowly, “Guk.”

He shifts fractionally and huffs at the exertion of it all, body pliable and soft in and around you.

“Baby, we can’t fall asleep here.”

You know he’ll ask for a few more minutes, the true post orgasm baby that he is. 

“Just a few more minutes.” 

You laugh in the way of your predictable boy and snuggle him further now that he’s cocooned, the tingles in your toes eases and he might lay heavy on you but it’s comforting that his body moves to the puff of your chest. It’s like watching the clouds in the sky morph from one figure to another. Like the soft ticking of a metronome. Like counting sheep. And it’s easy to let ‘just a few more minutes’ trickle on and on. 

What Jeongguk wants, Jeongguk gets. 

[zankivich]

The Arrangement: CEO’s Son/Dom!Shawn x Black Sub Reader Chapter 13

Merry Chrismukkah or whatever you celebrate, or just happy Saturday if that’s what floats your boat. Shawn is still dumb. Perhaps dumber. But these are my babies and they deserve the best. Just keep that in mind okay? K bye.

*Shawn’s point of view*

The New Year was a wonderful way for very rich people to throw very elaborate parties to tell people how rich they were. In his early twenties, he’s been roped in by the booze and the women and the occasional party drug or two. Something about twenty-four made him crave the serenity of naps, staying in, and home cooked meals. It could have been the maturity of growing up, sure, but he wasn’t exactly that naive. All he had to do was wake up wrapped around her to know that the only thrill he was going to get was by being with her. Y/n was the least industry, industry person he’d ever met. So, when she told him she had no plans to attend not one even one of the many she’d been invited to, he wasn’t disappointed in the slightest. He was happy to stay in. Or so he thought.

They were going to see a movie at this theatre in Manhattan that always showed the upcoming independent films of the year before they ever made it to the indie film festival. He really liked indie films, so y/n bought them tickets for a matinee showing. While y/n was in the shower getting ready his phone began to buzz and he was left without a choice but to answer it for one specific reason. It was his father. Or the Devil. Semantics.

“Yes, dad?” He sighed.

“Your mother is flying in for our annual New Years Eve party. I need you to get her here on time, and make sure she takes the uppers and not the downers this time.”

“Dad, Mom hasn’t been on pills since 2014. Remember the whole rehab thing?” He huffed. “And I’m absolutely not coming to that thing this year.”

“You absolutely the fuck are. The entire senior management team will be here, and I won’t have you make me look bad because you insist on being a child. You’re coming and you’re bringing your mother.”

His hands turned to fists  and he pulled the phone away from his mouth just long enough to curse his father back to hell for once.

“I already have plans, dad!”

“Cancel them! The party starts at nine, I expect you and your mother here by ten at the latest. Put on a suit for Christ’s sake too, none of that skinny jean bullshit.”

His dad hangs up without another world and he collapsed back onto the bed to question how he had managed to be conceived by one of the worst people ever. Really, what were the chances?

“Baby do you wanna do chinese for dinner after the movies?” y/n called from the bathroom.

And that’s when he began to cry.

“Boy, what in the hell is the matter with you now?”

He uncovered his arm from his face to see her standing at the entryway to the bathroom wrapped in a towel and looking as soft as cocoa butter. He really wanted to cry.

“You know the crime shows where the kids kill the parents and you’re like, holy shit that’s fucked up? Well I’m starting to sympathize with ‘em.”

“Sorry, that’s a little too close to white nonsense for me. Why, what happened?”

She stepped over to where he was on the bed and he sat up to fall a little pathetically into her arms. She smelled like flowers and that whole cocoa butter business he was thinking of earlier. Jesus, life was so unfair.

“My dad is making me pick up my mother and go to this stupid fucking new year’s eve party so he can pretend that they haven’t not lived together since before I graduated high school. No options. I’m going.” He reported glumly.

Her fingers were cool from having dried after the shower and she ran them soothingly through his scalp. He nestled himself more firmly against her and tried not to purr too loudly.

“Hmm, well that sucks. I guess there go our plans huh?”

He peered up at her, chin resting against her chest.

“Absolutely not. We’re gonna go see our movie and then we’ll...just go drink my dad’s booze and maybe find a janitor’s closet to fool around in.” He shrugged.

She snorted. “How romantic. I told you I’m not taking my underwear off in a janitor’s closet ever again, Shawn.”

“Who said you had to? I can get creative, baby.” He grinned.

“Of course you can. I think you’re forgetting the part where your dad doesn’t know we’re together.”

“Oh hell, who cares y/n. I’m not going without you. Why would I spend new year’s without my girlfriend?”

“Because...Manny is Satan and would try to ruin my career?”

“Hey, he wouldn’t. Y/n, I swear he wouldn’t do that to you.”

She smiled down at him sadly and scratched at his scalp again.

“I don’t really think you could make that promise, sweetheart. It’s okay. I’m not mad about it. I understand.”

“But I don’t! I want to spend the day with you, not at some dumb party! I had a whole plan about us making love in my bed with the curtains open while the fireworks went on, dammit. I hate him!”

Her chest began to shake and he realized that she was indeed laughing at him. There’s no love in this world.

“This isn’t funny.” He whined.

“It’s a little funny.”

No. Love.

***

“Hmm you look good enough to eat.” She murmured from behind him.

Her arms came to wrap around his waist and she reached up on the tips of her toes to rest her chin on his shoulder as he adjusted his suit. He could not have been less excited.

“Good enough to eat, not good enough to keep me home, aye?”

She rolled her eyes. “You are about as dramatic as they come you know that? I’m trying to keep the peace. Now you just make sure nobody touches what’s mine and you bring your ass home right after that ball drops.”

He turned in her grasp, pulling her more tightly against him. She was in nothing but his sweatshirt and a pair of underwear that surely would make him drool if he stared long enough. He loved her.

“What was it again that’s yours? I just wanna make sure I have all my bases covered when I inevitably get hit on.” He smirked.

She reached quickly for his jaw and tugged him forward so she could kiss him with dominance and love. Why in the entire hell was he going to this party?

“All of it.” She whispered eyes lifting up and down to drink him in. “You call me if you need a reminder.”

He nodded dumbly, lips parted and ready to drool.

“Yea. Okay.”

Leaving her is nearly impossible, especially knowing that he won’t have an ounce of fun the rest of the night. His mum is half way to sloppy drunk by the time he arrives to pick her up and the party's at stifling capacity by the time they arrive. But as long as his dad is happy that’s apparently all that matters. It’s all that ever matters.

“Look you just stand against this wall and I’ll go get you something with bubbles in it.”

His mum only giggled and leaned harder against the wall.

“Okay!”

He goes to the bar and gets her some cranberry juice mixed with soda water. She was drunk enough that it wouldn’t matter, and he was hopeful that by the end of the night she might sober enough for him to get her back to her hotel without incident. By the time he returns from the bar, he sees his dad wrapping his arm possessively around his mother. He starts talking to some old guy in a hat that isn’t doing enough to cover his balding head, and it’s about as sickening as can be. The worst part is that his mum completely plays into it. Her head rests on his shoulder. Her fingers play with his hair. They play the happy couple so well, it almost has him fooled. Almost.

There used to be a day when he would have tried to defend her honor, a day when he thought he was strong enough to fight his dad. He’d gotten knocked on his ass enough times to know that was simply not the case. And that’s how he ended up hiding in a corner with a double scotch texting his girlfriend while everyone around him looked like complete and total jackasses.

Shawn: I miss you. This is dumb. My dad is literally the worst.

y/n: You are so cute when you complain like a sixteen year old.

Shawn: I am delicate, y/n. You cannot be mean to me in my current state.

y/n: You poor, poor thing. What can I do to make it better?

Shawn: Rescue me?

y/n: We’ll see. Go place nice with the fragile men who never lived up their father’s visions for them.

Shawn: I think I’d rather die.

The party really is dead. It’s all the people who kiss his dad’s ass on a daily basis. Most of them were in their fifties or older. It wasn’t even the artists themselves, just the people who made money off of them. If he didn’t know any better he’d say it was his dad’s way of fundraising for investors. And he definitely knew better.

He’s sitting at the bar counting down the minutes until he gets to go home. It’s maybe thirty minutes until the ball drops, and everyone around him is hammered to pieces. He hasn’t seen his dad since he got there, and his mum was probably being dragged around by that asshole as nothing more than a trophy piece. God he wanted to go home. And then the elevator doors opened.

She’s wearing the dress that he bought her after he accidently ripped the other one. It’s black and sleek with a thigh slit that has his lips parting even now. Her hair is tied sleekly up in a bun and the second she steps into the room the entire atmosphere shifts. She’s gorgeous. Every inch of her. They lock eyes from across the room and he just knows that he’s beaming, couldn’t stop it even if he wanted. She’s here for him and no one else, and that means the world to him. She means the world to him.

He orders her her go-to drink and goes to find his girlfriend only to find that she’s already been stopped. It’s one of the guys from his dad’s team. He’s on the younger side, maybe in his early thirties, probably drives an eco friendly car or something. He’s dumb is the point. Dumb. And ugly. And stupid. And talking to his girlfriend.

“You look beautiful tonight. I didn’t expect to see you here. You and Manny don’t really get along.”

She giggled. Why was she giggling?

“That’s certainly one way to put it. But a good old-fashioned rivalry never hurt anyone, did it? Especially not when I win.” She grinned.

“You know…I find that kind of confidence in a woman to be incredibly sexy.”

Her eyes widened and he leaned in to place a hand on her waist. He made sure to step between them before it got that far.

“Vodka cran right?” He interjected pulling her not so subtly against him.

She rolled her eyes but smiled up at him.

“Yes, thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Who are you chatting with?”

“Shawn it’s Mike. We--We work together?”

He placed his hand on her lower back barely sparing him a glance as he led her away.

“Oh yea. Enjoy the party Mike!”

“You are not subtle in the slightest you know that?” She laughed.

“Yea, whatever. Only person who get’s to call my baby sexy is me, dammit.”

“I find your possessiveness to be both sexist and oddly stimulating. I will combat my feminist guide and get back to you.”

He snorted. “While you’re at it can you ask the feminist guide what it has to say about your whole, ‘it’s all mine’, shtick?”

“Hmm...you may have a point.”

He leads her onto the dance floor. Dancing is innocent. It can mean anything, and isn’t inherently tied to being in a relationship, so it acts as a safe space for the two of them. The party was too large for him to place eyes on his dad, so he had to just believe that they could occupy space together and be okay. No kissing. No waist touching. Certainly no ass touching. He really had to just hold onto his drink and soak her in. The good news is that soaking her in is better than not having her there at all. So he holds tight to the idea that he could have her there with him.

“You came here for me.” He murmured in her ear. “Why?”

She shrugs her shoulders and shimmies her hips to the beat of a Khalid song, ironically.

“You asked me to.”

“I know but...what about my dad?”

“Your dad is...always going to exist. No matter how long we’re together. If I let him stop me from enjoying New Year’s with you than I’m giving him power over our relationship. He doesn’t get to have that. Only we have that.”

It’s another one of those moments where if he looked back on his life, he could have identified it as a shift in their dynamic. This was y/n pulling down the final brick in the wall. She had chosen him fully and irrevocably in such a way that she was willing to go all in. His dad no longer matter mattered. Nothing really seemed to matter. Because they loved each other, and as long as they loved each other everything else would work out at some point. He had always been hers, but now he got to be her’s in broad daylight. Well, kind of.

They find a corner to shove themselves into away from the crowd. She crosses her legs and shows off more thigh than anyone has the right too, which reminds him that he hasn’t kissed her in hours. And so he sneaks a kiss on her cheek and hides his face in her neck, because he just wants to go home. He really wants to go home.

“I can’t touch you here.” He mumbled. “This is basically my own version of hell.”

She sighed. “Yea, I know. Usually your horniness is excessive, but this party is drier than Milania Trump’s pussy. Sheesh.”

He laughs because she’s funny and it makes him feel lighter, happier. He still doesn’t know how she does it.

“My dad is somewhere showing my mum off like she’s a thing and not a person. To him everything is a commodity, something for him to own and do with what he pleases.” He mumbled reaching for her hand. “I just want you to know that you could never be that for me. I would never, ever treat you like that.”

She smiled softly at him.

“I know. You’ve never treated me with anything but kindness, Shawn. You’re not your dad.”

He nodded. “See I know that, and yet still it feels good to be reminded sometimes.”

“You just let me know whenever you need reminding then.”

“Mkay. I will.”

“Shawn.”

The two of them looked up as his father ascended with his mother hanging onto him, eyes barely open. Y/n moved as far away from him as physically possible. He had to hide his face to pretend it didn’t hurt. It did hurt.

“What now?” He grumbled.

“Your mother is incompacitated. Take her home. Now.”

He stands up immediately, y/n remaining seated in her chair. She played coy incredibly well, bringing her drink to her lips and settling back deeper into her chair.

“Y/n,” Manny dipped his head. “So glad you could make it to our little suarey. Are you enjoying yourself?”

She smiled. “You know I was. I think I enjoyed myself so much that I’m gonna have to take a very long nap to deal with all the excitement.”

He catches the thinly veiled anger on his father’s face at Y/n taking the piss out of him as he reaches for his mum. She was in worse condition than he left her in, her eyes barely remaining open.

“Jesus, dad what did you do to her?” He hissed.

“She’s a grown ass woman fully capable of making her own decisions. Now get her out of here before she embarasses me further.”

“I do really enjoy the playful family banter. It’s sweet.” Y/n interjected. “And not incredibly cliche at all.”

He looked at her with pleading eyes to not make his father any angrier than he already was. If the look on his face was anything to go off though, his father wasn’t ever going to be happy when y/n was present. Manny sent y/n a scathing look before grumbling off to be with the rest of the crowd. His mum on the other hand was practically snoring on his shoulder. He hated the holidays.

“Looks like I’m gonna miss the ball drop. I gotta get her home.” He sighed.

“It’s okay. We can ring in the new year when you get back, okay?”

“Promise?”

She smiled up at him. “Promise.”

“K. I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Neither of them noticed Manny watching them from the bar. Nor had they noticed the way he had watched them the entire night. In fact as Shawn was pulling his mother towards the elevator, Manny was calling for the party planner for the event that night.

“Can you look up a name on the guest list for me?” He asked.

“Of course, sir.”

“y/f/n y/l/n. She on there?”

The party planner flicked through the list twice before shaking her head at Manny.

“No sir, I never sent any invitation to a y/f/n y/l/n.”

Manny looked back over at the couch where y/n and Shawn had been sitting. She was already gone.

“Yea, that’s what I thought.”

***

*y/n’s point of view*

The fact that Shawn becomes a regular at Lenny’s Tavern is only a testament to his love for music. He went every Friday it seemed, to the point where he turned out to be a celebrity of the pub. It was his place of joy. You never saw him smile harder then when he was up there with a guitar in his hands. It was a blend of covers and originals, and when he’s up there getting the entire crowd to scream sing “Hit Me Baby One More Time”, you know that there’s something special there. He knows how to command a room, at first with his presence, but now with his talent. Something that could take years to teach an artist, Shawn was sitting there with it by the boatload. And so every night is a little bittersweet, because you know Manny and you know if he has his way Shawn will never get anything more. But, the smile on his face every time he asks you to go is enough to have you taking the forty minute drive out the city on Fridays.

He jumps down from the stage to ravenous applause. The smile and the light in his eye is exceptional. You watch him get stopped by a few women, an increasing occurrence at Lenny’s Tavern, who asked to take a selfie with him. The smile that he puts on for them is more calculated, more mass sex appeal. Honestly, he was a music exec’s wet dream. And not because he’s good at it, but because he does it with this sort of authentic happiness that no amount of money can buy. He’s just got it.

“Did you like it babe? I tried the falsetto on the ‘suit and tie’ cover just like you said.” He beamed at you.

You wrapped your arms around his waist and kissed his nose.

“You sounded amazing. Just like you always do. My baby’s kind of a star.” You grinned.

“Yea, only because of you. Can you imagine my life if you’d been my manager instead of my dick of a dad?”

“You’d be wildly sucessful for sure...But I don’t fuck my clients so…”

He frowned. “Then let’s just stick with this reality, aye?”

“Sounds good to me. Let’s go get me a drink.”

He trailed you to the bar, his hands playfully on your ass and hips. His unwillingness to quit touching you was much appreciated in just about every instance of your lives together. Why go through life not being touched by your significant other? It just didn’t make sense.

“Hey Shawn!” Ronnie, the owner of the bar, called.

“Hey Ronnie, man, what’d you think of the set?”

“It was amazing! You’re always amazing, you pretty bastard, and you know it.”

You peered up at your boyfriend as you took a sip of your drink. His cheekbones were more sculpted than yours and perfectly flushed. His curls were like the swirl of an ice cream cone off pinterest. The fucker really was pretty. Rude.

“Hey, it’s just an honor to get up there man.”

“Really? Cause see I had one of my buddies from Atlantic come see your set and he asked me to give you his card, but if it’s all about the honor then…”

“What?!” Shawn and you screeched in unison.

Ronnie stared at the two of you with a big grin on his face.

“Yea! Same way I got our little Niall to where he’s at. When the sets are good, they come to check out the talent man. And you’re better than good. Here.”

Shawn took the card and stared down at it. You could see the fear, but also the light in his eyes. It was about as tragic as can be.

“No man, I--I can’t take this.” He mumbled handing the card back to Ronnie.

Ronnie refused it.

“Keep it. You deserve it man!” He exclaimed before walking away.

Shawn turned to you with wide eyes and a terrified look on his face that had you reaching to wrap his giant frame up in your arms.

“It’s okay. Hey, don’t stress yourself out. Just don’t call the number.”

“But my dad does so much work with Atlantic. Like five of his artists are co-signed through them. What if he finds out somehow?”

You shook your head. “He won’t cause you’re not going to call...unless that’s what you want.”

“Huh?”

You ran your hands up his arms and over his shoulders trying to quell some of the tension.

“Look I’m just saying that, yea you signed with your dad when you were fifteen but that contract expired the moment you became an adult. That’s probably why he asked you to work for the company the moment you turned eighteen, so that he could retain this hold he has over you.”

He frowned at you. “But...but my music.”

“I know baby. You made a lot of music that means a lot to you, and I want nothing more than for you to have ownice of it. All I’m saying is that if you can’t get the music back, that doesn’t mean you can never create again. It doesn’t even mean you can’t make music for a living. Any label would kill to sign you. I know because I’d be right there fighting with ‘em.”

He released this big breath, face twitching with anxiety. You could tell it was getting to him, that the moment was becoming too much. You didn’t really know how to ease him into it anymore than you already had.

“I don’t wanna talk about this anymore. I wanna go home.”  He mumbled, face red.

“Okay, I can be okay with that. Let’s go home.”

“Can we go to your place?” He asked head dipping down closer to yours.

You smiled. “Of course.”

***

*Shawn’s point of view*

Everything makes sense when they’re making love. It’s something about the way she tastes, or maybe is the vibrations of her moans against his mouth when he kisses her throat. His head is never more clear than when she’s in his arms. He loves her. God does he love her. He wants her to have everything, all of him, infinitely. So that’s what she gets.

“Fuck! Oh my god!” She sobbed.

“You gonna cum for me?” He asks reaching to stroke her clit with his thumb.

She nodded recklessly her stomach tensing, thighs trembling.

“Please. Shawn, I need it so bad.”

He flips her onto her back, hand wrapping around the top of her head for leverage as he lays into her. Her body shakes for him and she claws at his back so hard there will be welts later. But it’s her pleasure. It’s the only thing in the world that matters to him when they’re in this space together. So he keeps moving, keeps moaning, keeps holding on for every second that he can if it means she’ll stare at him like he just blew her mind. He always wants to blow her mind. And she bursts for him like an overripe fruit in the summer heat, and he makes sure that he’s right there to slurp it up for her.

“I love you.” He groaned into her ear. “I love you so much.”

The doorbell ringing is literally the last thing in the world that he wants to hear. She’s still panting against his neck and he’s just supposed to get out of bed?

“Let it ring.” She mumbled lips tracing his nipple.

“Oh. My. God, woman.”

She giggled and the result was something so cute and soft on her face that he could feel his exhausted body peak in interest. The line between whether to dominate and whether to cuddle  deeply into the sheets got more blurred by the second with her.

The doorbell rings again.

“Jesus Christ.” He muttered.

“Fuck...look just go answer it. I have to get ready for work soon anyway.”

He immediately began to pout.

“But baby...I didn’t finish my moves.” He whined.

She snorted. “You finished just fine for me, dear. Go get the door.”

He does what she asks. But not without whining the entire time dammit. She puts on his Jimi Hendrix t-shirt and walks off to his kitchen without underwear or a bra. Whoever was at the door probably deserved to die. He didn’t make the rules.

“This better be good!”

He yanked open the door to see his dad standing there with two starbucks cups in his hands and the grin of Satan.

“Dad.” He mumbled. “What--what the hell are you doing here?”

“It’s time to talk to son.” He smiled making his way past him to get into his apartment.

Oh for fuck’s sake.

“Look now really isn’t the time!”

“On the contrary, I don’t think there could be a better time. Ah! Good morning y/n!”

Sure enough there she stood in the middle of the room where the living room met the kitchen with a pan in her hand and the fear of god in her eyes.

“Y/n my...dad is here.” He stated glumly.

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’d managed to catch on, Shawn.”

“As much as I do enjoy watching the two of you prance around with no pants on, I think it’s time to get dressed. Shawn and I have some things to discuss. Take your time. I’ll wait.”

The room is dead silent. Y/n is looking at him like she’s contemplating hitting his dad over the head with the pan. Honestly, it’s not the worst visual he could come up with. Instead they walk side by side back to his bedroom. His hands are shaking and he tugs anxiously at his hair as he watches her get dressed. It’s impossible for him to wrap his head around this moment. Ten minutes ago they were making love, and now his dad knows about them. Just like that.

She tugs her shoes on and reaches for her keys and his heart spasms painfully in his chest. He’s got no choice but to reach for her.

“Hey,” He whispered hands still shaking as he gripped her waist. “I--I don’t know what’s going on right now. I’m freaking out y/n.”

She nodded. “Me too. It’s gonna be okay though. Just come to my place when it’s over. Whatever it is, we can work through it, y’know? That’s what we do.”

“I love you. More than anything. You know that right?”

She smiled at him sadly and ran her fingers through his hair to scratch at his scalp. It was the most calming gesture he could think of.

“I know. And I love you too. It’ll be okay. I wish I could be here with you in this, I do. But we’ll figure it out. I promise.”

He nodded solemnly letting his shoulders drop as she released him.

“Yea, okay.”

The last image he gets of her is when she walks through his front door without looking back. Her head was high, shoulders back, a lot like the first night he met her. Only now he knew better. Now he knew it was a part of her no doubt, but a constructed one too. With the presence of his dad, she suddenly needed to be a version of herself that no one could touch. Not even him. And so the last good image he gets of her is a version of her that’s not his, not hers. It exists outside of everything that they’ve become together in the months of their love. It’s a protective shell put up to hide. That’s the last image he gets.

***

*y/n’s point of view*

He doesn’t come over. And he doesn’t call. At first you thought maybe something happened. Maybe Manny shipped him off to Novasokia or some shit. But a woman left to sit in her apartment for hours can only come up with so much. By the time it was dark out, you got the feeling that he wasn’t coming over. All your text messages and calls had gone unanswered. You worried sick, and sad as all hell. You skipped work to wait around for him, and then couldn’t bring yourself to do anything but lie there all day. So when he doesn’t show up it’s a day wasted. And when you wake up the next morning to nothing? Not a facetime, an emoji, not even a fuck off? Your heart just sort of breaks.

“Hi, uh. I don’t really know what’s going on. And I don’t know what he could have said to you to make you not come over but...I’m scared, Shawn. I--I miss you. And I just want to know that you’re okay. Please call me. Bye.”

You showed up to work an absolute nervous wreck. It had taken you all morning to convince yourself not to go over to Shawns’ apartment. If he really didn't want to see you, then you probably owed that to him. The rational part of you was trying to come up with a solution. So, you convinced yourself that Shawn must’ve gotten into a really terrible fight with his dad and he had gone off somewhere to play music and blow off steam. It wasn’t the craziest scenario. In the time that you’d known him, Shawn had definitely fled the world to hide in a room somewhere with his guitar. This was just the first time, he’d shut you out too.

You walked onto the floor of your office and Tiana was waiting there with a hot tea for you and a very sad, anxious look on her face. It just so happened that you didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with anyone else at the moment.

“Hey Ti,” You mumbled. “I just need the day okay? I’m gonna go work on some stuff, but I really don’t want to be bothered.”

“I know sis but… you’ve got a visitor.”

Your eyes widened and quickly moved to get to your office.

“Is it Shawn? Did he say anything to you?”

“Y/n it’s not Shawn!” She called after you. “It’s Manny.”

You froze where you stood peering at your office door with confusion.

“What?”

“He was already here when I got here. He said that he had something to tell you, and that you’d be interested in hearing from him.” She explained. “But, I can kick him out if you want. I--I didn’t know!”

You swallowed and turned back to your friend.

“No uh, it’s okay. I’ll just...I’ll go in there.”

There’s a moment where you stood outside your office and took a huge breath. The truth of the matter was Manny had scared you for years. In the midst of your come up in the industry there were plenty of men who didn’t like you. Didn’t like your ideas, didn’t like your success, didn’t like your unwillingness to bow down to them. That you’d grown used to. But Manny seemed to feel all of those things at a level that no one else did. And while plenty of men would be happy to see your down fall not too many of them would actively participate in making it happen. You had known from the day you met him that Manny was the guy who would.

Falling for Shawn hadn’t gotten rid of the fear, but what it had done was shift your priorities. Whatever was on the other side of that door needed to happen, because you needed Shawn in your life. You loved him too much to be without him, and he loved you too much too. You knew that. You had to believe those two facts or none of it mattered. So you schooled your face into the mask that you’d created long before that day, and you walked into your office to meet it head on. Because there were no other options.

“Manny, I wasn’t sure if you knew where our office was located.” You smiled upon entering the room. “I always figured it was too urban of a space for you, not enough upper east side, ya know.”

He sat on the edge of your desk a lot like Shawn had the first time he’d been there. If there was anything to be said about the resemblance of the too, it was that Shawn did look a lot like his father.

“Well you’re right about that, y/n. I don’t exactly slum it unless I have too. I figured today was a good enough occasion.”

And subtle racist remarks all before ten am. This ought to be a treat.

“What do you want, Manny?”

You sat down at your desk and of course he immediately stood up so that he could tower over you. Men. So incredibly predictable.

“It’s over y/n.”

You rolled your eyes at the dramatics.

“And do tell, what exactly is over Manny?”

“Whatever hold you had on my son. It’s done with.”

“Ahhh. That’s what this is about. You’re upset that he started thinking for himself, and that his hands were no longer glued to your ass. I’m sorry but that has nothing to do with me. He’s a grown man; he thinks for himself.”

Manny stuffed his hands in his pockets and began to walk around the room. In retrospect Shawn was just about as dramatic as his father, just less evil.

“I should’ve known when it first started that you’d dig your claws into him. His rush to get me to introduce you two. The sudden trips to Rome on my jet, of course. The push back at work. His disappearing all the time.” He sighed. “I just thought angry pussy was better pussy or something.”

Your anger gets the best of you and a break appears in the mask.

“Excuse me?”

“Well you two really just weren’t subtle at all now were you? Which was fine at first. I’m sure you’re perfectly fine in the sack y/n, but it’s not like he’d ever marry you into the family. But then you started putting your nose where it didn’t fucking belong. That stint at the pub where we found Niall. Did you really think I wasn’t going to hear about that?”

You were absolutely rattled inside, varying on disgust and rage alongside a kind of fear you hadn’t experienced in years. But you couldn’t let it show. You’d rather die than let it show.

“He’s talented. He’s the best I’ve seen in years and I’ve got three of this years top artists under my belt. To block that? To keep him hidden because of your own inadequacies? That’s pathetic and you know it.”

Manny chuckled. “Your generation is so incredibly naive. That’s business, honey. Shawn can do more for me outside of the spotlight than he can inside it. It’s as simple as that.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake. You old wrinkly white men and your archaic understanding of the world. That’s not business, that’s greed. That relentless, self-indulging, disgusting greed you sad, sad little man.”

The smile on Manny’s face dropped as well as the temperature in the room. You were without a doubt one of the only people in his life to challenge him. He didn’t like it at all.

“And what about what he wants? Doesn’t that matter at all?” You asked. “Doesn’t anything but your own self-interest matter to you at all?”

“Not even in the slightest. But it’s okay now. I’ve shifted my narrative in part because of you. So I thank you for that.”

“Jesus Christ you know you sound like a villain straight out of a Spy Kids movie, like at all times? Will you just get to the fucking point?”

“I’m gonna give Shawn his masters back.”

You paused. “What?”

“Yep. All two hundred songs. There his. He can do with them what he pleases. He’ll resign a contract with me of course, and I’ll give him the career he always wanted. He’ll realize that he’s nothing without me. And everyone lives happily ever after.”

“I’m just supposed to believe that a plan you cooked up when he was fifteen years old is over now? Just like that? What’s the catch here?”

Manny snapped his fingers and moved closer to you.

“Oh that’s right. My apologies. The catch is that he has to break up with you.”

At this your stomach and your heart and everything in between just dropped.

“What?”

“You heard me. Shawn can have everything that he’s ever wanted, every song he’s ever written, just as long as you’re not in the picture.” He smiled. “I know my son, y/n. And he will pick correctly and you will be but an unpleasant memory.”

It just ripped you to shreds. It was the culmination of everything that you knew about Shawn, and everything that you loved about him, being exactly the thing to take him from you. And it hurt. You were left utterly defenseless as if he’d ripped your carefully crafted mask right from your face. Your eyes watered, your throated tightened. This was it. This was the end. Manny had banked on your willingness to know Shawn, which meant he knew that you loved him. And perhaps that’s the part that hurts the most. That someone could take the goodness of your heart and use it against you in such a malicious way.

“Why...why would you do this?” You asked.

And he shrugged at you.

“I like to win y/n. And I always win. This time will be no different. And I’ll make sure of it.”

He left the room just as the tears spilled over your cheeks. Because in order for Manny to win, someone would have to lose. He had made sure that only one person would come out of this scathed. You lost.

***

Seeing him on the other side of your door makes the gaping hole where your heart used to be throb. His curls are wilder than ever. There are bags beneath his eyes that are unlike anything you’d ever seen. He looked exhausted and sad and really beautiful even then. When he sees you he pulls up a smile that is so pathetic it hurts. But, it’s honest. It’s him giving all of himself to you, even when there’s damn near nothing left. To look at him now was to be in pain. And so you had to remind yourself that preservation was a Black woman’s armor. It was all you had left.

He smiled sadly as you leaned against your door not inviting him inside.

“Hi.” He whispered waving in his favorite clappy hand like motion that usually made you smile.

Not today.

“Hi.”

“I can explain. And I am so, so sorry that I disappeared but--”

“There’s no need.” You interrupted.

He shook his head. “No, y/n, I swear to you that I didn’t mean to hurt you. I just needed time. I needed to clear my head and my fucking dad he--”

“I know. Shawn I know.” You mumbled. “He came to my office.”

Shawn’s eyes widened.

“He did what? What did he say to you?”

He reached for you and you stepped further behind the door causing Shawn to pause and stare at you. His face began to shift just as the puzzle pieces slid into place. As your lip trembled he raised his hands up in the air in a motion of defenselessness, as if he was waiting for you to spook and disappear at any moment. If only he knew.

“Y/n what’s going on?” He whispered, eyes wide open and scared. “Why won’t you let me touch you? W--Why can’t we go inside?”

You closed your eyes and breathed but it was pointless. The tears came in abundance now. His hand touched your cheek and you wished that it didn’t soothe you. Wouldn’t this all be easier if he didn’t soothe you so well.

“It’s over, Shawn.”

“What?” He mumbled, completely frozen into place. “What?”

You swallowed.

“It has to end. You and me, we’re done.”

“What are you talking about right now? Are you kidding me?” He sputtered. “I--love you. I love you with everything that I am, how could you say that to me?”  

You shake your head to try and dispel some of the sadness with the hopes that you could even get through this whole. The problem was you already felt yourself splintering, and the more room you gave him to fight, the more damaged the both of you would be.

“I’m sorry, but that doesn’t matter right now.”

You can tell by the look on his face that you’re crushing him. This fact only ruins you further, only make the pain sizzle deep in your gut. You’ve got nothing left to give. You’ve gotta give it all to him so that he can go on and be okay.  It’s for the best. It has to be.

“It does matter?! I love you! And you love me. And it doesn’t matter? Why are you doing this?!”

“Because  it...it’s the only way to give you everything you’ve always wanted. And I love you enough to give you that. Goodbye Shawn.”

“Y/n, wait can’t we please just--”

You close the door in his face. Everything is blurry around the edges. You sink down to the floor and cover your ears as if it might cover the sounds of him pounding on your door. The two of you cry and sob for the other. You knows there’s no fixing this. It’s done.

***

Tag List

@simpledomain @liliane106 @thecurlsofgod @xeuphorically-moonstruck @euphoric05 @daijanicole @bruhh-whateven@learning-howto-be-myselfx3@decewill@goldiean@bitchacho25 @bruhh-whateven@justbeingoceana@loveylangdon@iloveshawnieboi@september-lace@valedictorian65 @dimestorebieber22 @MixerMani @lifeoftheparty74@sinplisticshawn @kamahriii@disaster-rose@justbeingoceana@thecurlsofgod 

Arrangement Taglist:

@moonlightmendes22  @cottoncandyshawn @iloveshawnieboi@shawnsblue

@claredolphinbear24@peterbrokenparker@blackharry@shawnwyr @speakingofmari@moniehp@softmendesss@ydolansss @MixerMani @kitykatnumber@chonmnds@cottoncandyshawn @shawnase

[peggingtaron]

Belle & Edward

Pairing: Edward x Belle (Edward Scissorhands x Beauty & The Beast crossover)

Summary: Belle, with a dreamy far off look and a nose stuck in a book, is isolated from the common folk that judge her, and dissatisfied with her life in the small suburban town. Upon exploring the old abandoned castle, far off from the town, she discovers a boy with scissors as hands, living his life all these years in the ancient shadows of the castle. A scissor-handed boy named Edward.

•

Word Count: 2.6K

A/N: I started writing this on wattpad when I was 16 so excuse the occasional cringe

Chapter 1 — Little Town

Once upon a time, by a little town, there was a mansion. In that mansion lived an Inventor. The Great Inventor made many odd contraptions, spectacular devices and wonderful gadgets. But none so odd, none so spectacular and none so wonderful than his creation of a man. He gave him inside, a heart, a brain, everything. Well, almost everything...

The Inventor was old, so very old. He died before he got to finish the man he invented. So the man was left by himself with scissors as hands...Incomplete and all alone.

His name was Edward.

Edward had spent years, alone, isolated in the shadows of the deserted castle as dust and cobwebs collected around him. He knew, in his unfinished state that he would spend all his days without anyone's company. Forever in solitude. Forever desolate.

For who could ever learn to love a beast?

><><

This little town was never an exciting place during the morning. In fact, this little town wasn't the least bit exciting at all for Belle. Belle spent her mornings on strolls around the neighbourhood. She did this everyday, perhaps in hopes to spot even the slightest moments of routines to change. But no, this was never the case. Belle would find men coming out their houses at the exact same time, driving their cars out their driveways in a practised, perfect pattern, children playing on their lawn with the exact same games, women keeping up their gardens in the exact same fashion of their neighbours.

In disappointment of the unchanging cycle, Belle would bury her nose behind a book and everything around her would seem to blur. She didn't regard her surroundings as all she would see were the visions of princes and princesses, pirates and sword fights, fairies and mermaids, all brought to life by the words of her books. The more impossible the story, the better.

Belle would find herself so enraptured by the premise of her story, she never regarded the conspicuous whispers of townsfolk as she passed them. Not that it would effect her at all. You would think by Belle living in this town for most her life, her neighbours would think of something else to sneer at. Though, it was only Belle, and with the exact same whispers as the day before.

"Look, there's that strange girl." "Dazed and distracted as always." "That girl's always got her head in the clouds!" "No denying, she's a funny girl that Belle!" "Shame that such a beauty is so odd." "What an odd child."

Not one comment could faze her. Nothing could make her look up from her book.

It was because of this, that she was rather surprised when she found path blocked by a boy. She looked up from her book with a sigh, rather expectant to see what would be in front of her.

"Bonjour, Belle!" The boy flashed a handsome grin at her.

"Hello, Gaston." Belle mumbled.

Belle was often greeted in French since moving to town, from a small French provincial village. She had no idea why this tickled and amused Gaston and her classmates so much. She was after all, immaculate in her English.

Gaston always held a confident demeanour with him, all too proud of his tall, slender, handsome figure. Many girls of Belle's age envied that Gaston favoured her attention, being that she was such an outcast to people of Gaston's supposed calibre. Belle was not at all pleased with the attention she got from Gaston either. Beneath his superficial pearly white smile surfaced a spoiled, egotistical, empty-headed boy much too pretentious to believe that Belle genuinely had no interest in him.

Gaston smiled down at her, grabbing the book from her hands. He smiled at Belle amused as she tried to reach for it, but Gaston being a great deal taller than her held the book high from her.

"Gaston, may I have my book back, please?" Belle mustered a polite expression as much as she could, while she grew concerned when Gaston fumbled through the pages carelessly and left creases of the book's spine.

"What are you reading this time?" Gaston flicked through the pages of the book and squinted at it. "How can you read this? There are no pictures."

"I know." Belle made a grab for the book unsuccessfully. "But why should that mean it's any less wonderful? You see, some people use their imagination."

Gaston gave a momentary judgemental glance at Belle, before tossing the book aside. With a gasp from Belle, the book landed on the lawn beside them, it's pages sprawled amongst the dirt of the grass.

Belle was quick to gather her book and smooth out the crinkled pages and had barely comprehended what Gaston was saying, as she nurtured the book in her arms like a newborn baby.

"Belle, I think it's time I should see you without a book covering your pretty face." Gaston gave a confident stride beside Belle who had continued walking. He put an arm around Belle, which she immediately shrugged off. "Movies are the new books, Belle. I don't suppose you're busy tonight. How 'bout it?"

Belle rummaged her mind for a response to help her escape. To her saviour, Gaston's little brother, Dirk called after him, running towards them.

Dirk arrived, panting and backed away slightly when he saw that Gaston had given him an annoyed glare for interrupting them.

"What? Did I interrupt something?" Dirk glared back at Gaston.

As quickly as she could, Belle briskly began walking her way back home.

"Wait!" Gaston called after her. "What about the movie?"

Belle continued walking and replied over her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Gaston, maybe some other time, I can't. I have to go home and help my father."

Dirk spitted a loud scoff. "Yeah that crazy old man will need all the help he can get!"

Both Gaston and Dirk bursted into a hearty fit of laughter, Gaston giving Dirk a slamming high five. Belle stopped dead in her tracks, turning her heel back to face them, fuming.

"Do not talk about my father that way!" Belle exclaimed furiously.

Gaston choked on his laughter as he attempted to stifle it, clearing his throat and hitting his little brother in the shoulder. "Yeah! Don't talk about her dad that way." He tried to scold, but a smirk was still visible across his face.

"My father is just as sane as anybody else here." Belle asserted. "Just because he's inventive and creative does not mean he's insane, it means he's a genius! He is not crazy!"

At the moment, a piercingly loud squeal of an explosion bursted from afar. Sounds of crumbling crashes and thunderous eruptions echoed across the street, causing Belle, Gaston and Dirk to flinch. Many people had come out of their homes to look at the source of the noise, but their eyes immediately travelled to Belle.

This was unfortunately a regular occurrence, courtesy of her Inventor of a father, Maurice. Belle did not regard the grimacing looks she got from her neighbours or the return of Gaston and Dirk's giggling fit as she immediately ran home, worried for her father.

Belle ran frantically back to her home. She gasped as she saw the door, leading to the basement, seeping out smoke. She quickly opened the door, violently coughing as a suffocating cloud of black smoke puffed into her face. "Papa?" She managed to call out through the smoke.

Belle sprinted down the stairs as she saw her father groan in pain. "Are you alright, Papa?"

"Merde!" He cursed. "I give up!" Maurice kicked onto the device that was bursting out smoke.

Maurice coughed, wheezing through the smoke as Belle helped guide him upstairs, away from it. "Papa, you can't give up now. You always say that." Belle encouraged as she went to fetch him a glass of water.

Maurice sighed. "No. This time I mean it. Series of failures - one right after another...Who am I kidding? No one will ever need my boneheaded contraptions!"

"Don't talk like that!" Belle sat beside him. 

"Well it's true! Just ask everyone else out there." He gestured to their neighbours.

"Papa, you will succeed, you'll become a world renowned inventor and all those who spoke ill of you here will bow down to you." Belle was beaming with a radiating smile that never failed to warm Maurice's heart. The girl's purity was always something for him to lift his spirits after hours of failed work.

Maurice gave a hearty chuckle. "Well, my dear. That's a bit of an exaggeration, but thank you."

Belle's smile eventually began to fade, her eyes softening and Maurice's spirits were soon depreciated. "What's wrong?"

"Papa...do you think I'm odd?" Belle had a quiver of worry in her tone.

"Odd? My Belle?" Maurice thought the idea was absurd. "Who would ever think that?"

"Everyone." Belle exasperated. "And they're right! I don't fit in here - there's no one to talk to - no one that doesn't look at me strangely."

"What about Gaston? He's a looker." Maurice chuckled. Maurice got up, brought out his tool box and began to fumble around with them.

Belle muttered. "Oh yes, he's a looker - but he's also conceited, selfish, rude, vain and — ugh! Let's just say that, that's one friendship best avoided."

"Well, what about Kim? You seemed to get on with her well." Maurice was still engaged in conversation with Belle despite being absorbed in his mechanical work.

"Yes, I do like Kim. But she hangs out with the wrong crowd, is always with her boyfriend who seems just as irritating as Gaston and...she really doesn't seem like she wants to be seen with me."

"Now what makes you say that?"

Belle slouched tiresomely, feeling slightly relieved that she was venting out all her troubles. "Oh mon dieu, Papa, why did we have to move here?"

"Hey, I rather like it here." Maurice said defensively. "It just takes some getting used to."

Belle groaned throwing herself on the sofa. "There must be something more to this small suburban life!"

Maurice tutted. "That's your books talking -- all those stories about far off kingdoms have gotten to your head. There are no princes and castles here, Belle."

Belle raised her eyebrows as she looked out the window and stared at the marvel of a castle-like mansion far off on top of the hill. "I beg to differ, Papa." She muttered almost to herself.

The castle had always intrigued Belle. It was a magnificent view, that was also seen from the window of her bedroom. The very sight of it from her bedroom window would lull her into a dreaming sleep of fantastically impossible worlds. Whether it be a world where teapots and teacups greeted you for morning breakfast, or a world where magic portraits could come to life.

In school, she'd heard the castle was an abandoned one, untouched since an old inventor had passed away there, though there is still some speculation that his ghost haunts the manor. Although this was a ridiculous rumour, the more time she spent in the dreary suburban neighbourhood, the more she hoped something so ridiculous was true - ridiculous was fascinating.

"I'll be right back, Papa. I think I'll go out for another stroll..." She said as she eyed the castle.

><><

Belle was careful to make sure she wasn't seen going off to the mansion. She couldn't imagine the rumours that would circulate after neighbours seeing a strange girl voluntarily wander into the only bizarre place in this perfect town. It puzzled Belle completely, as to how people had never thought of exploring there before - how nobody had a good sense of curiosity to be fascinated with a house that wasn't plain and identical as every other house in the neighbourhood.

Belle creaked open the gates, wincing at the loud yelps the rustiness of the untouched gates made. The path leading up to the castle was eerie with dark trees hanging over, though eerie in a way that fascinated Belle. Belle was boiling in anticipation, as she observed her surroundings.

She stopped in her tracks as she spotted a light pink car parked in the pathway. She observed the track tyres and noticed that they were fresh and someone had just come here. This was only perplexing as Belle could not think of anyone who would dare visit here.

She briskly walked up the path, growing more eager.

Belle widened her eyes as she saw Peg Boggs, dressed in a light pink outfit with her Avon suitcase in hand. Peg was Kim's mother, and was one of the very few people that treated Belle with kindness. Peg was admiring the splendour of the garden in front of the castle, and eventually Belle's eyes drifted towards the garden as well.

Belle felt an ecstatic grin creep across her face from ear to ear as she marvelled at the sight before her. Bright flowers organised in colourful bunches, topiary plants shaped perfectly into animals some of which were imaginative much like the ones in the stories she'd read and beautiful stems of vines framed around the castle. 

Belle felt the fairytales she'd dream about come to life before her.

"Belle?" 

Belle gasped as she snapped out of her marvelling gaze at the sight. Peg was just as surprised to see Belle there as well.

"Mrs. Boggs, hello." Belle smiled.

"Hello. What are you doing here?" Peg greeted her with a warm smile.

"I-I'm...I...Well, I've always wanted to come up here...The castle, it's...it's..."

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Peg chuckled as she looked back at the view.

Belle's smile returned to its radiant beam. "'Wonderful' is an understatement, it's epic, it's incandiferous, it's...magical."

Belle grew red in the cheeks at her excitement. These sorts of remarks are what labelled her as odd to everyone in her neighbourhood. Belle's smile faltered and her head bowed sheepishly.

Peg chuckled. "There's no need to feel embarrassed, Belle. I find your enthusiasm endearing."

Belle gave a modest grin before returning to her initial confused state. "What are you doing up here, Mrs. Boggs?"

Peg gave a tired sigh, gesturing to her suitcase. "Avon calling. I've had doors slammed in my face all morning, and I'm simply tired of it. I thought it was time that I tried something different, or rather, go somewhere else."

Belle nodded. "Well, this sure is a change of scene." She mused as she looked back through the garden.

Belle's eye was caught by a single red rose, standing out amongst a patch of white flowers. She knelt down to the rose, bringing her nose to it and inhaling it, fluttering with delight at its smell. As she was marvelling at the flower, she felt a strange sensation that she was being watched.

Almost instinctively, her head jerked up to the one of the windows high up on the castle. In a flash of a glimpse she spotted a face staring down at her curiously, though the face disappeared as quickly as she saw it. "There is someone here..." Belle gasped in delight.

"Really?" Peg asked. She began to clutch onto her Avon suitcase and make her way towards the door. Belle wasn't sure why, but she followed Peg. 

"Perhaps I'll join you on this Avon calling." Belle smiled. Her eyes tore away from the window that she fixated on. Little did she know that the face that she saw reappeared at the window, eyeing her in enchantment, as she made her way inside with Peg.

[theletterformallyknownasq]

Ngowo - November 16th, 2019

Ngowo: Growing up as a little girl in Cameroon, where I'm originally from, there were clear expectations of what a girl grew up to be, what a boy grew up to be. I never saw reflections of myself. But it was something that I felt is something that was real. And it was something that I just knew existed deep down inside of me. But I kept it a secret from everyone because you don't see people that look like you, and you don't see reflections of what you're feeling. It's hard to express that to the larger community. And I think [that fear] is all Christianity-based. Going back with my wife, there are Africans in their 60s and 70s, who are so cool with how I present myself to the world with my Queerness. My great aunts are so welcoming to my wife and myself. And they're like, ‘thank you for coming back home’ because it was a time when I stayed away. When I came here, I stayed away for fear of just, you know, the homophobia that can exist in the [African] continent. And not everyone is. But I'm so glad that I got to go back. Because I wanted to experience the continent as a Queer African boi. And there's plenty [of us], and we do exist, and we do live in the continent. We're not out and proud about it, but we're there. And I mean, just this past summer when we were there, I ran into people and, you know, you make that little like eye contact and it's just like, ‘Hey, I see you. I see you.’ You know what I'm saying? So, yeah. Nancy: So, one, you know, who am I sitting across from? Can you tell everyone your name, pronouns, where you're from and what brought you your family to The West? Ngowo: Yeah. So my name is Ngowo Nessa and originally from Cameroon, born and raised til I was 18. Pronouns she/her/hers. What brought me here was my parents felt, I grew up in Cameroon until I was 18. Because my dad wanted us to have that African upbringing. But he also felt like he wanted us to experience another side of the world. So, I came here for college. And that's what brought me here. But what brought me to Minneapolis is work.

Nancy: And what do you do [in life]? Ngowo: I am a senior web designer for Best Buy corporate. And I'm also on the Pride Leadership Team. So, outside of my daily responsibilities of being creative and coding, I'm also a part of a team that is really invested in creating a culture that's inclusive for the LGBTQ community on campus. Nancy: And have you returned back home? Ngowo: I'm going to give you a quick history. So, I knew I liked women in Cameroon, but I never— I did act on it, but I didn't tell anyone. And so when I came here, I reignited a relationship with an old friend of mine. And then it— because I didn't know what these feelings were I knew, ‘okay, I liked women,’ but it's not talked about I don't see other relationships like mine. So when I came here, I figured, ‘oh, okay, you're a lesbian, and you like women, and it's a taboo in Africa. Therefore, if you go back, you're going to get killed or you're going to get in trouble.’ So, I stayed away for like, 10 years. I did go back like after college in my late 20s. But I concealed my identity, you know, I'm masculine presenting, but I tone it down and I just— I was there for three weeks and spent time with my family. That time away was very difficult for me. It was a period in my life where you can't deny where you're from. I felt like I was running away from the core essence of who I was as an African. I told myself— I’ve just felt a pull to go back home. And I said, ‘You know what, you just have to face it. Go back and see it for yourself. And if something happens, oh well.’ So, I went back, I came here, and then I went back five years later, and then I need to go back for like 10 years. And then — yes, that was a huge gap, a really huge gap. And then when I finally went back, I had all these feelings inside of me —nervousness, excitement. I was already living into my, you know, masculine-presenting self. And so I didn't tone it down completely, but I just did t-shirts and pants. It was the most transformative journey I've been on because you hear the stories of, ‘Oh, don't go back. It's illegal. You're going to get killed. You know, folks are going to know that you look different. You'll stand out.’ None of that happened. None of it happened. And it just really affirmed who I was to the core, you know, I got to walk the streets of Cameroon as an African queer Boi, you know what I'm saying? I interacted with the population. I had folks who we would just strike up a conversation, I walk in somewhere and I haven't forgotten the language, it's just something that you don't forget.

Ngowo: So, I would just have conversations with random folks on the street. And honestly, I had to re-learn what it is to be African. Africans are just trying to exist. Folks aren't looking out to see who's Queer or who isn't. And I happen to know a lot of Queer Africans who live in the continent. And so, I think that the homophobia that exists feels, to me — speaking from my experience — feels fear-based. I mean, you're going to get I did get a few looks here and there. But that happens here. It happens anywhere, right? But I never felt unsafe at any point while I was there. And so I actually have visions of going back and living longer than just a vacation. You know, even if it's like a dual kind of thing where I live there part time — like this time of the year was really cold. Run out and get some heat. I mean, like it's something that's in the works where I can go back, you know, in the winter months here and then come back. When you go back, it's like such an eye-opening experience. Like, I'm kind of mad at myself that I took the continent for granted. You know, when you're in college, you're like,’ Oh, it's just home. Yeah, who cares?’ But now that I'm much older, it's like, ‘oh my god, you could have capitalized on way more than you did’. And your dad is right: the quality of life there [is better]. And when you talk about the quality of life, and you talk about just walking around and being seen and not feeling like you're constantly on guard of this feeling of being watched, you know, it's so freeing, you know, like, the minute we land is just like this deep breath of ‘I can finally breathe. I'm home.’ I'm home, right?  It's funny, cuz when we were just there this summer, we were out. We drove like four hours out to this beach resort area. And my brothers had the music playing really loud. And we're at this cabin, and it's like midnight, and Junauda, my sister and I, we're visiting and we're like, oh my god, it's funny how we're all kind of waiting for the cops to pull up and say, ‘Who are these [queer people]? You know, who are these?’ And none of that happened. But that was in our subconscious. You know what I'm saying? And it's not a good place to be in constantly. You know, it's not a good mind frame to be in and I find myself doing that. I find myself shifting, like shifting. You know what I'm saying? I don't want to have to shift. I just want to be my whole self. All the time. Every single minute of the day. That never happens there. It just never happens. Yeah, I have visions. I have dreams of also of doing the dual living thing.

Nancy: Do you know what it takes to be a dual citizen? Are you allowed to be a dual citizen to Cameroon? Ngowo: I'm gonna get a Cameroonian ID so pretty much I'm not gonna present my American passport. But because I was born there, I just need an ID and my birth certificate and I'm fine. So yeah, I'm like, you know what? We're doing that, it's going down. Nancy: You already talked about this. I’m really excited that you framed it in this way. So, I want to talk a little bit about borders and how it can change your definitions of home, identity and belonging. Can you describe a what would a world without borders looks like? Ngowo: Hmm, that’s a good question. By borders, do you mean in terms of expressing all facets of who I am? Or are you talking about the borders of, say, immigration where you're not allowed to maybe transplant to this country because of who you are? Any of it, both? Nancy: How we are bordered and contained but also stifled from moving

Ngowo: I think that's a colonial mastermind. Personally, because I just feel like if all Black people in the Diaspora were allowed to move back onto the continent, we would be one big, massive force to be reckoned with. Do you know what I'm saying? I feel like borders were put in place to keep us apart. Definitely to keep us apart. Because when I go to New Orleans, when I go to the South, even here [in the Midwest], like, we're the same people. We are the same people. My wife and I actually went on the slave trade path in Cameroon. Mind you, I didn't know about that [history about Cameroon]. Like, we never learned about the slave trade in Cameroon as a kid in our educational system. You know what I'm saying? So I personally feel like as Black people, we have to do our own research and really figure out ways of [traveling to Africa]. Even if you don't plan on moving back to the continent, at least go back to visit. Right? Because I feel like borders are limiting. It limits us and we're limit-less folks. You know what I'm saying? Even if you look at the way Africa was divided, there's no rhyme or reason. I'm really curious around what would happen if all the African countries just like the Europeans did become one union. The AU, right. Like, we will be so powerful. Nobody can touch us. No one. And that's where I lament about the borders that have been created. And how we have bought into that idea that ‘Oh, you're from Uganda. Therefore, we can't be cool.’ You know, we're not family. It's like no, my African-Americans folks here, that's my family. You're my family. We're all one Africa. Right? And I live for the day where we can see through that lie. I know that we were born to be great. And that's why there's a consistent policy to keep us down. Right? I mean, we don't see that. Call me crazy, but I have visions of being a president in some African country and just being like, ‘Get rid of these borders. Get rid of it. Now.’ Nigerians, you can move into Cameroon.

Nancy: Intercontinental traveling is impossible. Even crossing our own borders is impossible. And even talking about that, how that distorts our collective identity and history and knowledge of self. Separating, segregating ourselves has taken us all further away from our innate wisdom. Ngowo: It really has. It really, really has. I feel like it's our duty as Africans to figure out a way to get out of that. Get out of whatever it is because it's our duty to go back to the continent and figure out a way to invest in the continent. And that's a problem. Some of these companies are not owned by Africans, and that's another problem. Ghanaians are going back. The British Ghanaians are going back. But I implore every Black person in the [African] Diaspora to [go back]. Like, your dollar will go way further in the continent than it would go here [in the West]. Your quality of life will improve. There’s community there. And don't be afraid of this narrative around, oh, ‘Africans don't like Black Americans and vice versa.’ Nancy: Colonial mastermind? I love that word. Ngowo: Yes. That is just meant to keep us apart. Same with Queerness. Like, when my parents found out that I was queer, my dad was like, ‘Oh, it's just a phase’. Or he went ‘Oh, I know people who were.’ And it's just like, ‘oh, so you know  [Queer] people, you’re 80 something and how long ago was that? You know what I'm saying? And so it's a dual thing where I think Africans are okay with you being Queer if you're not public about it. Which can be problematic, right? Because you're okay with me being this person, but I can't show PDA. Right? Or I can't bring my girlfriend around, or if I bring her around, then that's just my friend. So, I still struggle with that. But again, a lot of that [logic] is Christian-based. Because my dad would tell you that one of his late cousins used to be a pastor. And he said when the colonial masters came to Cameroon, they threw out a lot of the whatever they practiced, and were told to ‘respect this Bible.’ You're no longer practicing — they call it witchcraft — which, I don't know what to call it, so I'm not gonna give it a name. But I know that we weren't raised on it because my parents weren't raised Christian, you know? Nancy: Oh, interesting. they never shared it with anybody? Ngowo: They never shared it because he wouldn't share with me because his great uncle didn't grow up Christian. He grew up on something else. Even as a kid, long time ago, he didn't have a name for the religion because my uncle didn't wanna impart that wisdom onto my dad. But he said that my uncle was like a clairvoyant in the village. And his gift got stifled by the Bible. They were like ‘you're no longer going to practice this. Whatever you're doing, and we're now following the Bible.’ And so all of his stuff got thrown out. All of it. Yes. And that's how Christianity — on my dad's side — he said that's how Christianity came into his family. Nancy: Wow. My parents said the first thing that happens in war is they destroy your museums, your literature, your art, all your religion, then have it replaced with theirs. Yes. I don't hear the personal narrative of what that looks like, and undoing your prior self and then, someone giving you a mask and saying this is your flesh.

Ngowo: I remember as a kid, I was like eight, [my family] had this tradition long time ago where when somebody dies, you'd have a pot to represent that our ancestors are always with us, even though they might be gone physically or spiritually, they're always with us. And I just remember this ceremony where there’s a wooden bowl with dirt representing all the ancestors that have passed away. It is really cool. But it's just sad that none of that was recorded. We do know that stuff was destroyed, we don't know what they practiced but we knew that Christianity was imposed upon them. Nancy: There was a question here that will expand on what you just said. So borders like we were talking about before, they can change who you are the moment we cross them. So, by definition, our identities are inherently fluid. We're all inherently Queer. You know, most times we don't have the agency to define ourselves against power dynamics and outer struggles. And this false sense of security in the West, ‘you leave home to find safety elsewhere,’ even though you find even more subjugation and unsafe conditions where you leave. Which is kind of this  myth around immigration and US foreign policy, how it’s influencing our experiences everywhere on the planet. So, I think now my question is can you talk a little bit about what essentially keeps us [Queer/Trans immigrants] away from home? And what prevents people from being safe in the world? Being with their families and living independent, full lives. What are these kind of elements at play you talk about in Christianity? I’m more interested about the complexity around neocolonialism and how it still festers the world today. Ngowo: I like what you're saying, because the goal was that I would come here for higher education and then go back, right? But it didn't quite happen that way. And the reason is — I hate to say this — but I think that speaking, especially for Cameroon, the economy, some of our heads of states in the continent aren't really ‘there’. They're really puppets. And therefore, that translates into an infrastructure that is non-existent, is not beneficial, is not lucrative to the citizens of that country. The reason I didn't go back is because twofold; I'm Queer, and also finding a job where I felt would be sustainable was not there. But my Queerness is what really kept me away. So I think there's ways that we could move away from whatever political agenda that the West [has in store]. Like I said, we could create our own Africa. And for me, that's my focus right now. Like, I'm not thinking barriers. I'm not thinking, ‘Oh, I'm Queer, therefore, I can't exist.’ I'm thinking it needs to happen now. The future is Africa. If I don't step in, as an Africa or even anybody from the diaspora, if we don't step in to the continent and create what we want to see in the world, someone else is going to do it. And that someone else is not going to look like us. And they're already doing it. So, yeah, China is doing it. Belgium is doing it. The French are doing it. It's sad that we're so rich in so many natural resources. I just found out Cameroon was one of the largest timber exporting countries. Oh, you knew that? I couldn't believe that. I'm like, oh my god, and where does that money go? It doesn't get funneled back into the economy. It doesn't. So, I don't know if I answered your question.

Nancy: You did. You're talking about all these conditions and all the things that don't create the necessary environments for us to live fully. Ngowo: Yeah, that's what I was saying. I was afraid of being my true self as a Queer immigrant in the continent. And for some reason, that’s changing. I think that a lot of it was built on fear. The minute I stepped into the continent, with full ownership of myself, and just being like, ‘here I am, in all my glory, coming in peace and in love.’ I got nothing but love from the people. So like, that used to be my excuse, ‘oh, I can never go back because I could never live into my fullness, I could never live into my queerness.’ And all of that is fear. And I've overcome. It was hard,  mentally, more so than actually living [physically] in the continent. So yeah, I think I'm saying that to say just go see for yourself.

Nancy: Okay, we're gonna pivot at something a little less heavy. How do you define Queerness? Ngowo: Um, for me, I think Queerness is just a way of being. It's about being politically conscious, for me, being respectful to myself and others and also creating space with people that may not look like you. Giving room for that, right? Nancy: And how you define community and what do you think people need it? Ngowo: Well, I think community is anyone that rides for me, for you, you know, folks that are able to celebrate you and have you in their circles but can also give you the hardcore constructive criticism on certain things. It's like family. Community for me is family and family is unconditional love. So, people that will love you no matter what, and they will be truly honest with you about anything and would also celebrate you no matter what. That's community and you need that.

Nancy: You do need it. Ngowo: You do. I mean, like nobody is an island. I can be an introvert sometimes but you still need community. It's uplifting right to feel seen and heard and celebrated and loved.

Nancy: And why do you think immigrants, especially Queer[and Trans] immigrants now need community more than ever? Ngowo: When I tell you folks are not happy that we're out here and we're loud and proud. They're not! The people that I think invested in this whole [idea of] there are no gay people in Africa, church-based folks and it's like, nah, that's not the Africa I know. And that's not an Africa I want to be a part of, you know what I'm saying? And so immigrants I think sometimes might feel like they're the only ones, or might feel like, there’s no one they can confide in, like there's nobody else that would understand these feelings that they're having. So, finding that immigrant community to share those feelings with is so important. And so I'm noticing a lot of Queer immigrant communities and little groups here sprouting out right now. And I think that we're on the verge of impacting the continent. 

Nancy: Yeah. Two more questions for you. Next question is what gives you joy? Ngowo: I think living my authentic self brings me joy. I wasn't always comfortable in my skin. And now I get to put my middle finger up and I'm like this is who I am. Take it or leave it. And that brings me a lot of joy and it's taken a lot of work for me to get here. But I'm glad I'm in this space right now. Family and community gives me love. My wife and my little daughter, they bring me joy. And my immediate family, we went through it. When I tell you we went through, we went through it! But they've come around. So, all of that brings me a lot of joy. But I truly will not feel joyful until all my Queer immigrants and Queer folks in the world can live into the same kind of, you know, their authentic selves, their realness, like I'm doing. It eats me up. It does. Yeah. Nancy: And to wrap this up, final question. So this is about cultural shifts and structural change. So If you could address the most influential public figures and decision makers in the state, what would you say about elevating the standards for LGBTQIA+ immigrants of color in the [Twin] Cities? Ngowo: Man, my goal is to provide housing at some point down the road for Queer immigrants in Minneapolis. Even if it means renting out a room in our house. It's not going to happen now but think that I'm working on something in the near future. And no one should have to experience homelessness just by way of who they are. Especially not in a state where we know that housing can be made available to folks. Right. But I would like to have a program where people could maybe offer up their homes for these Queer immigrant youth that may be homeless. Offer their homes for like three months at a time where they can live with you. How do we create spaces for Queer immigrant youth that could be experiencing homelessness? I don't play the lottery, but if I came up on some money, hey, I would want to buy up a whole block. And just be like, let's Queer it up! You know what I mean? I'm just saying that to say, yeah, I think that we need to take care of our youth. Our youth is the future.

Nancy: Anything else you want to add? I that's all I have. Ngowo: Thank you for this interview. Yeah, I appreciate you. Really. I’m glad I was able to lend my voice some way, shape or form.

[smirkingsolo]

bro you know what really sucks?

The name “Disney” has now become synonymous with corporate greed and chronically fucking people over. Like, corporate aside, i fucking love Disney.

When I say that I am talking about the sheer creative force that is behind some of the most beautiful things created in the past 50-100 years. 

I am so passionate about animation and Walt Disney Animation Studios’ contribution to advancing that field and art form into something that is as equally respected and revered as classic cinema and film is nearly unparalleled.

I’m also so passionate about the Disney Parks man. I worked there for 6 months and I’ve never had a better experience. When you work there and you’re surrounded by gouged ticket prices and expensive ass food and screaming kids and tired parents, you start to wonder why people show up. 

It’s because the people that work there create this environment founded in Walt Disney’s original “magic.” That philosophy is in all these people who have a genuine passion for making others happy and for celebrating the art of storytelling. 

When I think of Disney that’s what comes to mind. I know that this isn’t the experience everyone has had. But it brings me so much genuine sadness to see a company full of people like the creative/artistic/hardworking creators who bring Disney stories to life, full of actors with real talent and passion for their characters, full of working class people who get up and do their difficult park jobs with zeal and joy so that they can create an unparalleled experience for families....be relegated to it’s worst qualities. 

I hate the corporate, monopolistic, stifling nature this company has acquired as it’s grown larger. I think such corporate practices as those that pressure every aspect of the company to be solely about profit have no respect for Walt Disney’s original vision. I know that may be a naive and privileged view of things because the history of the brand, and its failings diversity wise, shouldn’t be idealized. 

But I do wish the original tradition of Disney animation and film as a high point of visual and character storytelling could be remembered and preserved and returned to the forefront of the Disney company's priorities. I long for Disney to be associated with good things again. I want Disney to be a company that supports the creativity and expressive freedom of all who fall under its umbrella of influence. I want Disney as a company to grow, not in size (god no), but grow in self and social awareness. Grow by becoming a company that fights for the best for people in the same way it’s lowest level park cast members do.

People like John Boyega and Oscar Isaac’s criticism of the corporate Disney agenda and what it does to the integrity of storytelling and characters is important. It is valuable and sad and I hope to god someone out there in the hierarchy stops and listens to them.

I know this statement may sound ridiculous, and maybe it is, but I don’t think Disney owning everything is the problem. I think if Disney monopolized the industry but did so with care and respect for individual value above financial profit, it wouldn’t be so bad. I wouldn't mind Disney owning everything if only they would treat every aspect of what they own with the same pride, love, and care that their underpaid, overworked cast members treat their jobs.

I’m tired of hearing the name Disney spoken with spite and disdain. But that isn't on the people who speak it, it’s on this company for earning that ire by forgetting the value of representation, art, good storytelling, and people.

[wbtylerbooks]

Children’s Book Author Stories – Darryl Silver – Poppi the Okapi

About the Author:

Darryl Silver is a TV Producer/Writer/ Creator. Darryl is the owner of The Idea Factory (www.tiftv.com), a production company. I also own a Brand of Tequila called Calavera Tequila. www.calaveratequila.com

Creative Process:

I have always been a creative person and have had some great success in the past and still do today.

This is actually my first entrance into writing children's books and it has been an adventure to say the least.

In my early career I was blessed to have great mentors. One in particular told me, "write what you know about better than life itself." What this means is write about what you know and it will come out honest and real. I truly believe this.

When my kids were little I used to take them to the zoo almost every weekend. I did this to give my wife a break as she took care of the kids during the weekdays. It was at this time that I became fascinated by the okapi. I was actually more obsessed with the word and I created a rhyming game that my children and I used to play when we would go there. This game continues even today as they are all grown up. I always knew that this would make a great children's book and one day I just had to get it out of my head and down on paper.  

About two years ago I finally decided to sit down and write it. The writing process took me about three months and I got a great response from friends, family and educators that I had shown the work too. Since I am a TV producer/writer, I am represented by an agent. It was at this time that she submitted the manuscript to several children's book publishers. We instantly got a great response. However, during the phone calls that I had with the publishers I found experience to be creatively stifling.

My book is long. It's 48 pages long, and, when publishers looked at the manuscript their notes were, "the book is too long", "the book needs to be half the length", "there are too many words on the page" and "some of the words are too big". Being someone who is in control of my creative work in my other business I did not respond very well to these notes. The nail in the coffin for me was actually when I asked them what they thought about an illustrator and they informed me that that would not be my choice – publishers would assign an illustrator to the project.

I decided that If was going to write I book I wanted it to be how I wanted it and not someone else's vision. This is not to say I did not listen to others when they gave me notes, this just means that if your creative vision is going to be decimated then what is the point in writing the book.

It was at this time but I decided that I would go at it by myself and that I would self-publish via Kickstarter.

But, first things first. I had to find an illustrator. I met with a bunch of illustrators domestically and I wasn't overwhelmed with any of their art. The one person that I did think was just okay wanted $170 a page. To spend $8,000 on art, for a first time book writer, was too big of a risk for me to take.  I had had great experiences with my other businesses working with fiverr.com and thought that maybe I could find somebody somewhere else in the world who might be more reasonably priced.

I put out an audition and found about a dozen artists and sent them one page of the book and all I asked them to do was illustrate the page with their style of artwork. I was blown away by the level of quality that was sent to me and the person I finally settled upon was a woman named Mary who lived in Pakistan. I can tell you that her art was far more superior than anyone I had seen stateside. It was then that I hired her to do the artwork for the book at a fraction of the price.

The way I approached her was we started with a few pages at a time and then as we went along I would pay her for between 5 to 10 pages at a time to ensure that she would actually finish the project as sometimes people on this platform either don't finish the work or disappear. I made sure that she sent me the masters with each group of pages so that I always had all the work in my possession.

Because of my inexperience I had no idea that it would take another year-and-a-half to finish the art, but in retrospect 48 fully Illustrated pages done in a year-and-a-half isn't too bad. I was very lucky that Mary was so great because as we went along there were a lot of changes to the book not only the illustrations but with the words. It is amazing how you realize what works and what doesn't as the process moves along.  Mary was amazing and even though there was a slight language barrier we got the job done.

Once the book was finished (or what I thought was finished), it was time to print a sample of the book. It was at this time that I realized that the formatting that Mary had done was completely wrong. This was not her fault nor my fault but just both of our lack of experience. It was during this time that I started speaking with printers in China. I used www.Alibaba.com and had conversations with over 20 different book printers. I settled upon a couple different printers who gave me amazing help in understanding how to format a book. They were extremely patient with me and we just kept going back and forth via Alibaba and Skype until the actual formatting was done correctly.

I'm very lucky that I have a great friend of mine and somebody has worked for me for years Andrew who knows how use Adobe in such a professional way that he was able to sit with me and we were able to go frame by frame word by word and make changes to the small artwork and formatting issues until the book was actually properly formatted. This was NOT an easy process.

I believe it's important for independent book writers and publishers to figure out the most financially responsible ways to get the job done. We are taking on all the risk to achieve our goals.

I also think it is super important for the writers to understand the process from beginning to end. Each time you hire someone to figure out something for you is one less thing that you understand in this very complex process.

A great resource that I believe every independent writer should join is https://www.ibpa-online.org/. This organization was a godsend in helping me in getting the project done and done correctly.

There are no shortcuts to learning how all this is done it is HARD work.

During this process I wasn't afraid to ask for help. I asked family. I asked friends. I went online and asked strangers for help. You would be shocked at how many people are willing to share their experience and their skills with you.

I am now at the point that I am launching the book. I chose to do it on Kickstarter because I have a great social media network due to my television background. I am relying on lots of friends and associates to help me drive sales of the book. I spent a lot of time looking at how other people were launching their books on Kickstarter and found the most successful ones. I am trying to emulate what they did. But there is no easy shortcut. I know that going forward this is going to take a lot of work and the only person who can do that work is me since I am the best advocate for my own work.

The first thing I did when the formatting was done was print one book via www.bookbaby.com. The reason I did this was that in theory you think you know how the books going to look when it's printed but only once you get a copy in your hand are you able to truly understand the nature of what you've done. I would say at this point my book is about 90% done and when it goes to the final printing we are going to be making the final changes.

I've actually partnered with a charity https://www.okapiconservation.org/ and I have found that they have been super helpful and promoting my book as well as connecting me with lots of people in the Okapi community.  They have even connected me with our local zoo who are also going to help me promote the book. I even had the opportunity to meet an Okapi and many other animals in a VIP behind the scenes tour. During all these events I filmed myself to use in my social media for the launch of the book. The Okapi zookeeper even gave me a stellar book review. The more people on camera and in print who give your book a great review, the better it will be for your launch.

I have also spent a lot of time on social media pre-promoting my book. When you settle on a title it is imperative that you get all your usernames locked down for your social media. Well before you launch the book you should be promoting the book and creating a social media community that you think would be interested in the book. As of today I have not sold one book and my Instagram is over 700 people.  It is crucial to create a buzz for your book well before you launch your Kickstarter pre-launch and your final launch page.

I've also been using my television contacts and there's an opportunity for my book to be featured on a children’s show this summer.

I always tell my kids if you are going to do something you should do it right.

You only have one shot to launch a book the first time and you should put all your effort energy and resources into launching that book.

I also believe that it's very important to have great focus groups. Within days of getting my first copy printed I met with teachers, friends and children of my friends to read them the book. I've had the great opportunity to read it to several kindergartens to see what reaction they had. It is never too late to figure out what you did wrong so you can change things before the final printing. I will always consider this book a work in progress and anytime I can make it better I will.

I'm cautiously optimistic for the launch of my book but you never know what's going to happen. I could sell 100 books or 100,000 books. You never know until you try.

I believe that it is important to pay it forward so if anyone reading this needs help...

Find me:

Here is the Kickstarter page for my book: https://www.kickstarter.com/projects/darrylsilver/poppi-the-okapi

E-Mail: poppitheokapi@gmail.com Website: www.poppitheokapi.com Instagram: @poppitheokapi Twitter: @poppitheokapi Facebook: www.facebook.com/poppitheokapi

[mermaidylluria]

Warning to all you mers on Tumblr out there: The purge has officially begun. My account just got flagged, and the only things I have on here are my own event photos (which are all family-friendly & fully clothed), and mermaid art (both classical and new, some of which has an LGBTQ focus- and may, at times, *gasp* in some cases feature kissing). So.. just as a heads-up, the whole Tumblog censorship hubub is a real thing. My hope was that in a page FULL of mermaids, it would be obvious what the space was about- that it was absent of pornographic or ANY kind of child-endangering content, n’ be subsequently left alone.  But it appears that’s not the case.  So now that we know mer art is going to be targeted (after all, “NEKKIT BEWBIES, ER MAH GURD!!”), I suggest we all get ready to either defend our posts (via disputing flagged content), participate in some kind of (peaceful, preferably meaningful & artful) protest, or just leave the platform all together. 'Cause this tells me that they're not only flagging classical art, they're also trying to eradicate LGBTQ content, and NONE of that is okay.  Personally, I’m going to do all 3.  Fight and dispute, while making preparations to move my space elsewhere.  Where that’ll be I’m not sure yet, but if we loose, I want a place for my mermaid stuff to go, and the demigods at Tumblr better be aware, I’m taking my decently-well-known bellydance n’ other blogs w/me too, if I’m forced to leave.

And just for my personal 2 cents on the matter?  Dear gods, not ALL of the internet has to be child friendly. XP Censorship like that happening on YouTube, Facebook & now Tumblr stifles creativity (look at channels like Glam&Gore, who can’t barely do SFX makeup anymore because she keeps getting demonetized), silences valuable artistic and minority voices, removes audiences for burgeoning creators (who, btw, may NOT be engaging in pornographic content in ANY way), and forces narrow-minded, puritanical standards of "decency" (which are by FAR the minority), over others' ability to operate successfully in that medium. This smothers decent, AWESOME things like art, science, expression and SO much more. XS  See, it’s not about the p0rn.  It’s about the CENSORSHIP.  This is the internet. It was designed to dispense and SHARE information, ideas, inspiration, fun, etc. Not be a surrogate nanny for your kids. XS

ANNNNYWAY, if you want to read more about what is and is not allowed on Tumblr now, you can visit: https://tumblr.zendesk.com/hc/en-us/articles/231885248. (And be sure to read to the bottom, where users can find out how to appeal post & entire blog flags under the last 2 questions.)  And if you have a mermaid blog where ANY kind of toplessness is involved, note that "female presenting nipples" is distinctly mentioned, which, as I'm sure lots of you already know, directly impacts classical AND modern art- one of the few things on Tumblr that can be shared WITHOUT a copyright, as well as a TON of mermaid art, classical and otherwise. XP 

What does this mean?  Well.. in simple terms, it means that stuff like Botticelli and Picasso are no longer welcome on Tumblr.  It means that Reubens, Waterhouse and Rodin, if they have artistic interpretations of naked women in their work, cannot be shared on Tumblr.  Even though their works are featured in international museums of the highest callibur, lauded all over the world as legends of innovation, vision, unparalleled beauty, & precision, expression & creativity, and world-famed for their social and economic value.  Those.. are not welcome here now, apparently.  Meanwhile, images & videos stolen from present-day & other modern hard-working artists, photographers, cartoonists, writers and other creators from allll over the world arrre hunky-dory. XP  DaFUQ, Tumblr??? (At -least- they mention mis-attribution & non-attribution on their new guidelines now. That at least, is an improvement. X*)

But now.. let’s see how that’s directly affected my blog, shall we..?  ‘Cause, as I mentioned before, I figured surely since I didn’t actually have any pr0n on my pages, I & other mer pages should be safe, right?  BZZZZZZZT, WRONG.  After getting this e-mail (pictured above), I went through my whole blog and found the 4 posts that were "flagged" as having adult content. *rolls eyes* 

3 of them were reblogs &1 was an original post. 

2 of those posts were queer-positive modern art. 

1 was a photographic collection of pieces FEATURED IN "W" MAGAZINE, 

And the last is a piece of classical style, queer-positive art. XS 

One of the modern pieces doesn't even show nipples, just saggy bewbies COVERED with small seashells. 

The other modern-style piece was a Rackham style drawing, where the tatas are but a mere suggestion of simple lines and dots. 

One was shown in a INTERNATIONAL FRICKING FASHION MAGAZINE SPREAD, which was apparently suitable for SOMEONES' interpretation of public consumption, 

and the last only shows suggestions & curvatures of breasts! (Showing the side and outer portions of the female chest, with no nipples. XP)

-And WHY AM I HAVING TO JUSTIFY THIS???? THIS IS ART. THIS IS NOT P0RN. Again I say "WTF, Tumblr????" XS

As you can see, 3 of my posts were reblogs, so I had no means of disputing those posts.  (According to their new guidelines, the owner of the original post has to do that, and if they are found as having “inappropriate content,” there’s no further means of appeal.)   But one of them, one of the very first posts I ever made in this blog, was an original, so I was able to refute its being deemed as inappropriate.  FIrst, you have to go through allll of your posts to find.. whatever it is someone’s had issue with.  (Whether it’s a person who’s flagged it or something chosen by Tumblr’s algorithms/keyword alert systems, I have no idea.)  But they don't even bother to link you in your notification e-mail, so first you’ve gotta FIND what’s being flagged before you can repeal it.  (I didn’t even know what I was looking for at first.  They never specify.  Would it be a tiny new icon near the Edit and Share buttons at the bottom?  A wee little flag pointer, outside of the post itself..?  Do I got to my posted page n’ try to find it?  Or will it be in my Posts stream, & the whole post be red..?  Who knows?)  But eventually, after enough scrolling, I found what I was looking for.  A big red bar across the affected posts.  -And if it’s a post you can do something about, they give you a button to push on the designated "flagged" work, at the top right. After you hit the "dispute" button, you’re given a largely blank page.  In the center, you get to choose between Dispute, Cancel or Learn More.  No “tell us why you feel this should not be flagged, why it doesn’t violate our rules,” nothing.  Nowhere to speak your peace.  You just hit a button, and you’re done.  You get no say, other than “I object, your honor!”  NOT COOL, people. NOT COOL.  You clearly don’t wanna hear the voices of your content creators, or, at least, enough to allow them to speak for the work they felt appropriate enough to post..

Reading this from another media source?  Please don’t discount this issue if you don’t personally have a Tumblog.  It doesn't really matter whether you use tumble or not, whether you think it's lame or not, etc. The problem is much, much larger than that, and it’s growing.  This is another very large, social media platform that's being affected by censorship in the name of marketing- and thus, be child-friendly.  They want the whole family to be able to come and see all the ads they wanna put here, and without that, they don’t make their money.  So anything not child-friendly, even vaguely PERCEIVED as not child-friendly (by God only knows whose standards), is being wiped out from the whole platform.  Don’t believe me?  It’s happened on YouTube, on Facebook, and likely, many others.  Do some googling and check it out for yourself.  YouTube is a platform that’s being strangled by this phenomenon right this very second.  There are videos on it.  Go see. Now.  ‘Cause if we don’t educate ourselves about this n’ do something to fight it, what’s happening to YouTube is our future.  Not just here on Tumblr, but EVERYWHERE.

Big Brother isn't just watching, guys, he's stealing your open arenas for personal and creative expression, so he can better market to you & yer kids.  He wants EVERYONE to buy his Stuff.   And if the kids can’t see it here, they won’t ask mommy and daddy to go get it for them.  So out classical art, and LGBTQ content, and mermaids go.  Out the door.  (Meanwhile, who do kids love?? UM.. MERMAIDS.  HELLO!!!  What should be educating them about history and the arts?  UMM.. FINE ART, HELLO.  Who teaches them about tolerance and diversity and SO MUCH MORE?  Umm.. THE LGBTQ community!  Who teaches them about what human bodies look like, and that it’s okay to have ANY kind of body?  UM.. BODY POSITIVE ART, THANK YOU.)  

We need to put the kaibosh on this somehow, now. Not just for Tumblr, or Facebook, or YouTube. We've got to find SOME way of letting the Big Boys know this is not activity we will tolerate. 'Cause the places to freely express ourselves are going to continue to diminish, get scarcer, and fewer.. until they're all.. gone.

ART =/= PORN, YOU IGNORANT, PURITANICAL, MONEY-GRUBBING FISHTITS.  LEARN TO POLICE YOUR OWN CHILDREN, MORE EFFECTIVELY POLICE GENUINE CRIMINALS, AND LEAVE THE REST OF THE INTERNET ALONE.  Please.

♥

[dcarevu]

DCAU #11: Two-Face (Part 1)

“All men have something to hide. The brighter the picture, the darker the negative.”

We’ve made it, guys! We’ve made it past the developmental/establishment stage of Batman the Animated Series for the most part, and from here on out, the show elevates to a whole other level. Like virtually all tv shows, there will still be ups and downs, and a few bumps on the road, but it is pretty well known that not only does Two-Face mark the true start of the masterpiece that is this series, but is also one of the absolute greatest episodes.

Villain: Rupert Thorne Robin: No Writers: Randy Rogel (teleplay), Alan Burnett (story) Director: Kevin Altieri Animator: TMS Airdate: September 25, 1992 Episode Grade: A

Oh man, so what do I say about this one that hasn’t been said already? Probably not a whole lot. While not a lot of people set themselves up to look at, analyze, and write about every episode of the DCAU, doing just Batman is more common. And granted, I don’t allow myself to read any reviews of any episodes until after my posts on them are written, I am still for the most part aware of what people’s opinions are with some of these high-profile episodes. So I think the best thing to do is continue just like I intended. Not caring about necessarily writing something that people haven’t heard before, but instead just writing whatever is on my mind for reactions, and also expressing Char’s thoughts as someone who has never seen the series before. After all, most reviews of this show come from people who have seen it prior!

This is Alan Burnett’s first episode of the series, and once he and Dini were both activated, oh man. It is clear that they saw eye-to-eye with Bruce Timm and Eric Radomski, and it was a collection of the right people joining forces at just the right time. Both Dini and Burnett had worked on some pretty basic Saturday Morning Cartoons prior (along with some higher quality stuff), and writing for those types of shows must have felt like interning and doing nothing but pouring coffee for those that hold the job you truly want. They could use their creativity, sure, but knowing their visions for this show, it is apparent how stifled they must have been. Which is fine, they were still doing what they loved for a living, and getting very necessary experience. Maybe without these formative years and working on these cheesy cartoons from the 80’s, they wouldn’t have had the jobs to come up with the beautiful stories that they did. Creativity and writing is something that can get worse without practice and training, and sometimes that training truly does need to work much like it did in The Karate Kid, not being apparent until after it is completed. But while I’m not a fan of everything that Alan Burnett contributed to the DCAU, there is no denying what a valuable member to the team he was. Welcome aboard, Alan. But now let’s talk about the episode itself.

Two of the things mentioned in the series bible are as follows: the villains were to much of the time be human and have motivations, and the show was to be a noir crime drama, sometimes focusing more on everyday mobsters than colorful super villains, and not necessarily being a “monster of the week” type of show. And while Harvey Dent/Two-Face is very much a monster when it comes to appearance, this episode falls right in line with these rules. I had to think a little bit when I wrote who the villain would be for this episode, because yeah, Two-Face is a well known member of Batman’s rogues gallery, but Rupert Thorne is the real monster here. And goodness, what a cool villain he is. His voice actor, his lines, even his motivation, while not as sympathetic as Harvey’s, makes a lot of sense! He’s a mobster trying to do mobster things, and Harvey Dent is a real problem for him. But you also totally wanna see the creep get creamed by Harvey, because damn, you feel Harvey Dent’s pain tenfold. Leave the guy alone, he’s going through enough!

And throughout the episode, things just go further and further downhill for Harvey Dent, exponentially. He lashes out in public. Okay, that’s bad and gets a lot of press. But it’s nothing he can’t recover from. Then we find out it’s a recurring thing that he’s seeking professional help for, and just now getting worse. Then Rupert Thorne gets involved and severely threatens Harvey’s career as a politician. Then we have that god damn explosion, and at that point, you just know that there is no recovery, particularly as he flees the hospital, abandoning any hope for treatment. You feel the pain at the pit of your stomach as you watch, and let me tell you, even though I have seen this episode before (albeit only once), my heart was beating during certain scenes, particularly when he is talking with his psychiatrist and when he is at the “meeting” with Rupert Thorne and his goons. A couple times I heard Char gasp, and when that explosion happened, she had her mouth covered for a good while, hardly able to believe that Harvey Dent, one of Bruce Wayne’s best friends, a surprisingly clean-cut, honest politician, and someone we have seen a couple times now, is the villainous Two-Face that she has heard about before.

It’s not even just his character. It’s the fact that the episodes of this show so far have been good, but not this level. This is a serious, adult episode that I think would actually be pretty intense for children. I made a joke to Char when we were discussing the episode, and I said, “But it’s just a little kid’s cartoon!” and she responded with, “No it is not.” We deal with politics in a way that’s actually engaging. We deal with the struggle of a severe mental disorder and childhood trauma. Gosh jesus, the way this episode handles the mental disorder! Char and I both applauded it. Bruce Wayne telling Harvey how proud he is that he’s seeking mental help just warms your heart, and looking back after watching the episode (along with part 2, which has been watched, but we’ll discuss that next time), it almost brings a tear to your eye. Especially since all that could have been done was done. Harvey was getting help. His finance, who is a great character by the way, gave him all the love and support she could have. Bruce Wayne encouraged him to get better and even stepped in as Batman to try to save his friend. But sometimes with life, you can do everything right and it’s never enough. That is what makes this story a genius tragedy. Much better than what they were originally planning with the character, where they would have had him get acid thrown in his face like his traditional origin, and then develop the episodes. Him struggling with these mental problems for longer than his scars have existed feels so much more real, and adds to what makes this character so complex.

Then we have the style and animation, and it does nothing but enhance everything. Director Kevin Altieri outdid himself here. Some of the shots, including one of the most iconic images ever of his other face being revealed for a second when the lightning strikes, are simply beautiful. There were a lot of other little things like the rain on the window at night, which Char specifically noted. There was a specific close-up shot as well when Harvey was bandaged in the hospital that was extra stylized, but it standing out and being different than the other animation worked in its favor. It fit the mood so well. A different animation studio would do Part 2, which is a bit of a shame, as it didn’t end up looking nearly as good as this one, but I’m glad they blew their load on this one at the same time and made the visuals match the episode concept so well. Animation similar to some of the first episodes of the series would have killed the vibes which they were going for. It was a mini horror movie, lacking any amount of camp (something that Nothing to Fear didn’t do nearly as well). Also, TMS is very well known for being a studio of amazing quality and detail.

Something cool that Char noticed was that Grace, Dent’s fiancé, didn't touch him when it came to calming him down and forcing “Big Bad Harv” away, and it’s evident at another section of the episode that touching him in this state tends to set him off a lot more. This is a cool subtlety, and it shows that Grace is very in tune and familia with Harvey, and is definitely the closest thing to a safe-haven that he has. When he is with Grace, it gives you hope, when he is with almost anyone else, well, Char put it best, you could cut the tension with a knife. I think this is what leaves your heart beating throughout the episode, and what makes it so suspenseful. That tension. But while watching, you hope that the pressure is relieved. Instead, it ends with quite literally an explosion. We’ll see how things resolve next time.

Char’s grade: A Major firsts: Rupert Thorne, Two-Face, a two-part episode

Next time: Two-Face (Part 2)

Full episode list here!

[the-bounce-back]

26 LIFE LESSONS LEARNT IN 26 YEARS

So… ya girl turned 26 back in May. I had originally planned to post this the day after my birthday for maximum dramatics and symbolism, but here we are.

Yes, I am painfully aware that my birthday was over 4 months ago now, and yes, I have already been dragged to the moon and back by both myself and my friends for not finishing the post on time (it’s been chilling in my drafts since, like, late April)… so face your front and mind your business.

All jokes aside, these past months have been insanely chaotic for us all on both a personal level and global scale. Everyone and everything seems to have gone mad. A whole pandemic… having to literally fight for equal rights and justice in 2020... having to watch world leaders single-handedly destroy the countries that they themselves campaigned to govern... and on top of that, being forced to stay indoors and not being able to do whatever you want?! Sh*t, I’m even surprised that myself or anyone I know hasn’t been sectioned yet. This whole year needs to be put in rice, immediately.

I can’t lie, watching everything unfold these past few months - while struggling to come up with ways to entertain myself because of the constant negative news and energy drifting round and stifling my creativity - has had a massive toll on my mental health. Although my coping skills have become a lot better over the years, how in the hell was I (or any of us) meant to prepare for a year of constant chaos, death  and revolt? No one could’ve seen it coming, and that’s why these circumstances have made me feel like my mental health has been dropkicked in the throat. We’re not built to be cooped up at home for so long, and we’re definitely not built to have to consume heartbreaking and traumatising media on a daily basis. No wonder so many people have been feeling like they’ve lost the plot.

On top of that, I’ve also been dealing with a lot of other things - because when it rains, it pours. Not being able to distract myself by doing fun stuff because of Corona has somehow given my subconscious the confidence to go absolutely apesh*t. This, in the sense that a lot of past situations I’ve forced myself to suppress over the years to be able to just function like a normal(ish) human being have managed to claw their way to the surface and demand my attention like a bunch of spoilt and crying toddlers. To put it in the least dramatic way possible, these feelings and memories have been killing my ~*vibe*~... like, a lot. Ya girl’s been going through it. It’s been particularly hard because I promised myself at the beginning of the year to work harder on not obsessing so much over past situations that I have no control over, but due to the circumstances I’ve forced myself to give myself a break and take each thought as it comes.

Yes, this is all very depressing - but despite everything, there have also been a lot of silver linings of this lockdown. Besides day drinking, chick flick marathons and chatting sh*t on facetime 24/7, having all this time to focus on my mental and spiritual health has definitely taught me a lot about myself. I genuinely feel positive and like this time of my life is needed to be able to grow and evolve when I’m not in that negative state of mind. These experiences coming back to the surface and demanding to be felt and dealt with may be hella exhausting, but I’ve definitely done this enough now to know that there is a light at the end of the tunnel, and that one day I’ll be able to fully make sense of it and fully heal.  And when I finally have gotten to that stage, I will definitely write a few posts about it - because no one should feel like they have to deal with this level of headf*ckery alone.

Anyways, there you have it - another long-ass excuse for my lack of productivity. But hey, at least it’s valid. 

Enough with all the dark sh*t - we have more than enough time to revisit that and other fun stuff in another post, don’t worry! Instead, let’s pretend that it’s still the day after my birthday, that I am editing this with a hangover while stuffing my face with leftover cake, that I am indeed capable of keeping personal deadlines and that I haven’t been AWOL for over a quarter of a year. Keep on reading for 26 big and small life lessons I’ve learnt along the way in this dunya, in no particular order. It’s going to be a very long one (tip: scroll and find the ones that resonate the most with you), so get cozy, put the kettle on and get some snacks or whatever. 

1. You are still young - do not compare your journey to other’s.

Okay, so I’m definitely projecting with this one. When I turned 25 last year I had a bit (a lot) of a minor (major) existential crisis because I was very far from where I had always expected to be at 25 years old. Career-wise, fitness-wise, finance-wise and relationship-wise I just felt like a massive failure, and like from that moment on life would just go downhill. I made the mistake of comparing myself to my agemates and people younger than me, and seeing other people’s success when my own life was a mess didn’t exactly make it better.

For this year - despite me now being on the wRoNg side of 25 - I feel very calm and even happy about getting older, simply because I realised that my time will come and that everyone's journey is different. For this reason, comparing your progress to other’s doesn’t even make sense and just puts a load of unnecessary pressure on yourself. Be patient - all the work you’re putting in now will pay off soon.

2. Take time to reconnect with your ~*inner child*~.

I know, I know - it all sounds awfully hippy-dippy, but hear me out. In short, your inner child refers to the subpersonality that still feels, thinks and reacts as you did when you were younger, and reconnecting with that childlike aspect of yourself can be beneficial to your mental wellbeing and psyche for many different reasons. 

The main reasons I have focused on reconnecting with my inner child in the past couple of years have been for a) learning how to tap into that creative, free and spontaneous nature I had as a kid before life got in the way; b) to heal wounds that occurred in my childhood that are still holding me back, and c) to reparent my inner child by unlearning toxic mindsets and behaviours that have had a negative impact on my life. 

In terms of creativity, I remembered how much I used to love drawing and writing as a child, and returning to these passions as an adult has had such a massively positive impact on my mental health in ways that I can’t even begin to describe. Doing activities you used to love as a kid should really be considered acts of self-care, because the childlike joy and excitement that comes from it? Absolutely bladdy priceless.

Then there’s the dark and mildly traumatising side of reconnecting with your inner child. Revisiting and analysing what can be very emotionally painful memories is never going to be a delightful task - but trust me when I say that you have to push through it, regardless of how long it takes. There aren’t any shortcuts or detours involved when trying to heal a wounded inner child, so make sure that you are patient with yourself and take the time you need to heal.

All in all - regardless of if you’re trying to get your creativity flowing, trying to enjoy life more in general or trying to unpack almost a couple decades worth of trauma (my personal favourite!), setting aside some time to really reflect and remember your thoughts and feelings from way back then really does help make sense of your thoughts and feelings as an adult. I’ll even bet money that every single insecurity and doubt you may have about yourself can be traced back to something that happened during your childhood - which is why reconnecting with yourself at that age is imperative if you want to truly heal.

3. Be confident about your creative projects.

One of the biggest lessons I’ve learnt in life so far is definitely understanding the fine line between confidence and arrogance. I can only really speak for myself - although I know that a lot of women can relate - but I was raised to be humble about a lot of my accomplishments. It got to the point where even the slightest self-acknowledgement of my talents made me feel like I was being arrogant, attention seeking and braggy, so for a long time I kept a lot of W’s and my pride in my work to myself. However, this is one of the aforementioned toxic mindsets that I’m currently working on unlearning - because if I don’t hype up myself and my talents, who will?

After speaking to friends about similar topics I get the impression that this reluctance to hype up our own creativity goes - in many cases - way back to a time during which we might not have had our creativity appreciated and validated as children. For me, this makes a lot of sense because I was extremely creative and had a very vivid imagination as a child, but I think somewhere along the way it got stifled by the pressure of making certain family members (who thought anything remotely right-brain stimulating was a waste of time) proud. 

Anyways, it doesn’t matter anymore. Now that I’ve realised that my creative vision is a blessing, and that being confident in the quality of my work has nothing to do with being arrogant, you best believe that I will self-validate every single project I complete, and I hope you will do the same.

4. Love and take care of your body.

I mean this from both a body-image and health point of view. I spent way too many years of my life hating my body and hating looking different to literally everyone around me, and I’d be lying if I said that realising how damaging this self-hatred was doesn’t get me in my feelings from time to time. However, I have been able to get out of this mindset - for the most part - and can now appreciate that my body is beautiful, and that the perfect body I was always striving towards doesn’t even exist.

With that being said, it is important to remember that loving your body goes beyond self-acceptance... It also entails taking care of it through exercise and healthy eating. 

I know, it sucks. I don’t make the rules.

I’ve definitely been struggling with being healthy during my 20s - partially due to my sweet tooth and partially due to comfort eating and other unhealthy coping methods when my mental health was at its worst. As expected, my initial reaction to the weight gain was piling even more self-hate and pressure onto myself, when I really should have been kinder and more understanding to myself during that time. I should have used exercise and healthy eating as a coping mechanism to get better, instead of forcing myself to lose weight in a harmful manner due to feelings of disgust for my body.

CoUlD’Ve, WoUlD’Ve, ShOuLd’Ve… Sigh. Hindsight really is 20/20. What’s important is that it’s never too late to start the self-love journey, and that your body is beautiful regardless of the form it currently happens to be in.

5. Know how to communicate effectively.

That is, with people who are genuinely worth your time and energy. No matter how good of a person you are, there will always be people that seem to be entirely committed to misunderstanding you, twisting your words and trying to make you out to be a bad person. Hell, you might even be that person in someone else’s life... whether you realise it or not (I reckon I probably am). Trying to communicate with someone that has no desire or intention of getting to a level of understanding with you is literally the most frustrating and draining task ever - which is why I no longer do it if I don’t have to. There’s literally no point, and I’m just exerting energy over someone that is probably enjoying the conflict - so why bother?

With that being said, learning how to respectfully disagree, give constructive criticism, set boundaries, resolve conflict, listen to and g-check the people that you do genuinely want in your life becomes more and more important with age. I’m definitely guilty of leaving things unsaid or unresolved in the past - due to fear of offending/losing friends that meant a lot to me at the time - but we’re aDuLtS now, guys. If we can’t talk without constantly having to sugarcoat things, are we even really friends?

The answer is definitely a resounding ‘no’ from me, and since adopting this mindset - along with knowing when to distance myself from people that are literal energy vampires - my life has been a lot more peaceful. 11/10, would recommend.

6. Eliminate fear of failure.

Obviously, no one wants to fail at anything. But I’ve genuinely found that my biggest L’s in life have been the most character building and taught me the biggest life lessons. Although it might be hard to see how the situation is making you evolve when you’re neck deep in the sh*t, once you get into the mindset that failing is a learning opportunity,  you’ll see that your ego won’t be as wounded when things don’t work out the way you wanted them to.

Again, I can only speak for myself, but I feel like many of us with immense fears of failing at something were probably raised in environments in which failure was not an option and often followed by some kind of negative reaction (e.g. undermining of intelligence, disappointment, verbal abuse etc). I think that constantly associating failure with this kind of shame has made us terrified of making perfectly human mistakes. Mistakes that we wouldn’t pay any mind to if someone else were making, but that we beat ourselves up over -  just because it’s us.

Or maybe that’s just me. I don’t know, man. Regardless, teaching myself that failure and making mistakes is okay and part of the process has made me feel a lot more secure in myself and my capabilities - simply because I now know that there aren’t any mistakes that are unfixable and it’s never that deep. At the end of the day, as long as I know in my soul that I’ve done my best, there’s really no need for negative self-talk.

7. Pick your battles.

I.e. don’t sweat the small stuff. It’s so wild to me that a couple short years ago I would let every minor inconvenience, disagreement and disappointment caused by others really get to me and ruin my day. Nowadays I have gotten so good at simply removing myself from situations and people that just bring negativity into my life, because honestly? The stress isn’t worth it. Life is so much more peaceful when you refuse to give energy to negativity and toxic/inconsistent people, and once I got past the feelings of guilt for not being so available to everyone it really became one of the best choices I ever made.

8. Be kind.

This one is a cliche and a no-brainer, but still very imperative. Remembering that literally everyone has their own sh*t going on - regardless of if they speak on it or not - is extremely important, especially in terms of us interacting with each other. Being kind, sensitive and respectful to others literally costs nothing, and positive energy has a tendency to be contagious.

Obviously (for me at least), this becomes a slightly different story when the person involved constantly allows whatever they are going through to affect the way they interact with you. Things like lashing out, self-isolation and self-destructive behaviours are all tell-tale signs that the issue isn’t with you and that you shouldn’t take it personally, but of course everyone has limits to how much they can empathise with these kind of behaviours. As someone that has been on both the receiving and giving end of this kind of behaviour, I’ve found that the best approach for me is to still be kind, but to love and support them from afar - simply because I know that I have a tendency to take things to heart when I’m not even the issue. The bottom line is to try your best to be kind and understanding, but also to know when to distance yourself from toxic behaviours that can end up taking a toll on you.

9. Process your feelings.

I definitely get it. Sometimes life throws sh*t at us that is a lot easier to just push to the back of our minds so we can stay focused on what we have going on at the time. But believe me when I say that whatever feelings you squash, ignore and push past now will come back to haunt you in the future. 

Okay, so this sounds very dramatic and ominous. Your feelings aren’t going to take physical form and beat you up… however, it might feel like this is what is happening. Obviously this differs from person to person, but I’ve found that when I don’t allow myself time to process my feelings as soon as possible after they’ve been triggered, there is a risk of me being re-triggered and snapping again at a later stage - albeit at something wildly unrelated and minor. In other words, small small issues that pile up on top of negative feelings end up becoming the straw that breaks the camel’s back, the drop that spilled the glass, and whatever other corny and related sayings you can think of.

What I’m trying to say is that carrying around the weight of unresolved negative feelings takes a toll on you, no matter how resilient and ~*zen*~ you are. I have no doubt in my mind that carrying past negative feelings, trauma and pain for days, weeks, months and even years has detrimental effects on both your mental and physical health. There is a lot of research to explain this further, and I have also seen these effects on family members, friends and myself when times have been tougher than usual.

With that being said, it might sound like you’re screwed if you’ve gotten to this age and not learnt how to fully feel your feelings. I’ve been feeling that way for about five years now, I reckon. However, it’s never too late to strive for good mental health and to deal with unresolved feelings/trauma - once you get past the fear of being triggered by the bad memories, you soon realise that that’s all they are; they can’t hurt you if you don’t let them.

10. Be ‘selfish’.

So, we’re at that age now where - traditionally speaking - we’re sUpPoSeD to be looking to settle down. Get married, have kids, get a mortgage, be on a set career path… all of that adult stuff that always used to seem so far away, but is now heavily breathing down our necks and killing our vibes. It’s upsetting me and my homegirls, to be honest.

All jokes aside, there is nothing wrong with wanting these things for yourself at this age. However, my point is that millennials/Gen Z (especially women) are put under insane amounts of pressure in their twenties to have all their sh*t together - either by family or just society in general. Meanwhile, many of us are so riddled with anxiety, insecurities, unresolved trauma and lacking a sense of self due to constantly trying to please others and to not be a disappointment to the older generation that we don’t even know which way is up anymore. This is where selfishness comes in.

No, being selfish doesn’t mean to be an inconsiderate d*ck to everyone around you in this context - sorry to disappoint. I mean that it’s important that we take the time to slow down, not be so hard on ourselves and to focus on finding our own path, purpose, dream career etc on our own terms - not to please someone else. Now is the time to unpack your traumas, ~*find yourself*~, and unlearn any destructive mindsets and behaviours you’ve picked up during your childhood and teenage years. Now is the time to learn how to love and accept yourself fully. The way I see it, if you don’t make time for this, a happy, lifelong marriage and strong, healthy relationships with children you bring into the world (if that’s what you want) are a myth - simply because healthy relationships require inner peace. Even if you don’t see yourself going down the ‘traditional life plan’ route, this is still extremely important.

Times are changing; there is nothing wrong with doing certain things later in life if you’re not emotionally, mentally, physically or financially ready to deal with it… no matter what your parents/judgemental aunties/condescending uncles might try to tell you.

11. Take people at face value - not for their potential.

If I got a pound for every single time I’ve told myself this over the years, blatantly ignored it and then ended up getting hurt, I would’ve spent this entire lockdown at an all-inclusive luxury resort on a beach somewhere hot, instead of struggling in a germ-infested London. Honestly. I try not to get mad at myself for this, but it’s very hard not to because it ends up being a cycle that infinitely repeats itself in all my relationships (platonic, non-platonic and family) - leaving me feeling like Boo Boo the Fool for not listening to my intuition.

In my defense, I get myself into these situations because despite coming across as a sarcastic and heartless piece of sh*t sometimes, I genuinely do try to see the best in people and give them a chance to prove themselves as a good and positive influence in my life. This in itself isn’t the problem. The problem is that once I see even a molecule of potential in someone, I very easily latch on to that potential and become Stevie Wonder to the million red flags that pop up over time… and I don’t even realise how disrespected I’ve been until further down the line or long after the situation is over. I reckon that this insistence on riding for people that end up doing me dirty stems from knowing what it feels like to be given up on, or dismissed before even getting to prove myself. It’s a really, really sh*tty feeling, and I think I’m just wired to not want anyone to feel that way because of me.

In other words, my niceness and understanding/accommodating/empathetic qualities might be some of the best things about me - but they really invite sh*tty people to take advantage of me. 

The bottom line is that despite wanting to push people to be their best selves, there really isn’t much you can do unless they want your help. Unfortunately, a lot of people would rather fake a desire to improve themselves instead of just saying that they don’t want help - simply because they enjoy the attention and the energy that they end up leaching from you while you’re worrying about them and their (non-existent) ambitions.It’s literally only recently that I’ve kind of figured out how to combat this, and now I see right through these type of people, and can cut them off with ease. Again - it’s all about protecting your energy, and making sure you only give it to people that are genuinely trying to improve and elevate themselves. You are not a charity - stop allowing useless somebodies to deplete your life force just because their own is clearly not enough to keep them motivated.

12. Be self-aware in a healthy and constructive way.

As you’ve probably gathered from reading this, I am insanely self-aware. I honestly don’t think there is a single negative thing someone could say about me or my character that I am not already trying to work on, or at the very least am aware of. Of course, being so in tune with myself for most of my life used to make me overanalyse everything I said and did - sometimes years after it happened - and I’d be so harsh, mean and critical towards myself for things that weren’t even that deep when I look back on them.

I’m not going to lie, I don’t think there’s a ‘cure’ for overanalysing and overthinking everything. Once you’re aware, it’s very hard to just stop - believe me, I’ve tried. But what I’ve tried my best to do instead is to flip my overthinking into something positive. By this, I mean that when I’m up at 4am and start to deep my whole life and everything I should’ve done differently, I try to focus on what I’ve learnt and how much I’ve grown from the situation, and how much of a better person going through that situation has made me. This is definitely something I’m still working on, since negative thought patterns that have been imposed on you from a young age are very hard to break. But what’s important is that I try, and it has definitely helped me be kinder to myself.

13. Don’t let feelings distract you from your goals.

More projection for ya headtops. Tantalising humans really just pop up out of nowhere when you least expect it sometimes, and when the connection is there it can become dangerously easy to get carried away and lose focus on your own goals. I’ve been very vocal about my opinion about how healthy relationships are meant to elevate and inspire you as opposed to stressing you out and holding you back, so this isn’t exactly anything new to those who have read my blog for a while. 

With that being said… I get it. Meeting someone new is hella exciting - of course you want to make an effort and see how things go. It’s easy for me to come on here and say that you should make sure that you don’t go catching feelings for someone that wouldn’t want you to continue shining and flourishing in your lane while with them, but we all know that a) we can’t help who we fall for, and b) me saying so would make me the hypocrite of the millennium. I’m not sure how or why I manage to attract (and get attracted to) people that I later on down the line realise do more harm to my goals than good… but at least I’ve learnt a lot from those situations, and I’m a lot more picky about who I deem deserving of my time now. 

14. Always make time for #self-care.

There’s not much to explain here besides reminding you that the world and everyone in it is mad, so taking time to yourself and doing something you know will make you feel better during a hard time (or even a simple time, let’s be real)  is crucial in this life.

Get the takeaway. Buy the shoes. Do a cheeky face mask. Have your 3rd bubble bath of the week.

 Life really is too short and too crazy to deny yourself the little pleasures, so do it and do it without any feelings of guilt. If you’re anything like me, I’m confident you’ll think of a reason for why you deserve it - no matter how ridiculous it may be.

15. Get comfortable with being alone with your thoughts.

Okay, so I feel like I’ve discussed this topic to death, so I won’t delve too deep into it here. Instead, I’ll just reiterate that learning how to just sit alone with your thoughts and feelings from time to time - especially at this age - is imperative for your mental health. 

As important as it is to have genuine and supportive friends that you can open up to about your mental, it’s important to remember that there are always abstract thoughts and feelings lurking beneath the surface, that you couldn’t even put into words even if you tried. Regardless of if it’s unresolved feelings, suppressed traumas or an uneasy gut feeling/your intuition, some things just can’t be explained until you’ve been able to figure out where these thoughts are stemming from - and I firmly believe that this “detective work” needs to be done alone to be able to get to the root cause of the thought/feeling. 

It goes without saying that delving deep into yourself to try to figure out what these thoughts/feelings mean can be a very intimidating and triggering task - so I fully understand why a lot of people struggle with facing this alone. To clarify, I am not saying that you shouldn’t turn to friends for support if you need it - I am saying that as great as your friends may be, they can’t read your mind and will never be able to do so. Only you can know for sure exactly what you’re thinking and feeling, and taking time alone to allow yourself to become in tune with your mind and understand yourself on a deeper level is the first step towards being able to put your feelings into words -  and to be able to communicate them to others.

16. Don’t let fear of judgement stop you from doing whatever the hell you want.

This has been a major one for me the past couple of years. As I’m sure you know, regardless of what you do, say, wear or look, there will always be people - sometimes even complete strangers - who will have something snide to say in an attempt to discourage you from trying to do your thing. I’ve mentioned in previous posts how many hairstyle, outfit, blog and creative ideas that I’ve scrapped because of fear of being judged, and I try not to get annoyed with myself for caring so much - because it’s not my fault. I’m sure many of you will relate to being raised in an environment in which you were almost forced to conform to whatever was seen as a rEsPeCtAbLe lifestyle. If you didn’t, you’d be deemed a disruption to the status quo by others… which we were conditioned to believe was a terrible crime. Shock horror.

I’m here to tell you to not give a f*ck about their opinion - because who in the blue hell are they?

After being very concerned about what others think of me for most of my life, finally realising that judgement from others usually stems from their own insecurities, bitterness, jealousy or an otherwise tragic and unfulfilled existence came as a massive breath of fresh air. I even feel sorry for people that feel the need to insert their sh*tty little opinions into things I do, because I don’t even think they realise that it’s falling on deaf ears and blind eyes now. I’ve literally become Helen Keller to the nonsense now, because I don’t have time. And they’re wasting their energy. Poor things. I hope they get some rest soon.

With that being said, it does take time to get to a point of not being phased by judgement. A lot of time - for me, I’d say it’s been a couple of years. I still have a long way to go in regards to not being phased by judgement coming from people whose opinions I still care about too much (i.e.  family members and other people I look up to), but the key for me was definitely baby steps.

17. Learn how to forgive.

As appealing as holding on to everlasting hatred towards someone that did you dirty sounds, trust me when I say that the best thing you can do for yourself in this kind of situation is to forgive them - or at the very least try. Carrying anger, hate and resentment in your heart is extremely emotionally draining, and let’s face it… the person in question is most likely sleeping soundly at night, at peace, snoring, drooling and having happy dreams about living rent-free in your head after all this time.

The thing about forgiveness, I’ve learnt, is that it doesn’t have to mean that suddenly everything is okay again, or that what they did somehow became erased overnight. Absolutely not. Instead, forgiveness has become a tool to give myself closure over a situation, letting myself accept that what happened happened and to reclaim my sanity after being angry about it for a long time. It’s for me and my mental health - not for the person that hurt me.

Additionally, it is important to remember that forgiving someone doesn’t necessarily have to mean that you are now obliged to continue being nice and cordial with the person. If you’re on that level of maturity, honestly… you deserve all the accolades, because I don’t think I could ever do it. For me, most of the time the person in question won’t even know that they’ve been forgiven - and I like it that way. I just wish them the best from afar and keep it pushing once I’ve healed from the situation. Regardless of the choices you make in relation to your own situations, just make sure that you’re doing it for yourself and not out of consideration for the other person.

18. Understand that your ~*purpose(s)*~ may take time to become clear.

Bare in mind, this is coming from someone that still has no idea what the f*ck she wants to do with her life. Honestly, every year around my birthday I try to figure out why I’m even on this planet - and every year I think I have the answer before life comes and humbles me again.

While I’m not particularly interested in getting into existential questions regarding if life even has a purpose, I will say this - just keep doing your thing. Stay in tune with your emotional, spiritual and mental health so you can determine whether or not you feel you’re on the correct path for you. If you’re anything like me, you will feel in your heart when you’re not where you’re meant to be, regardless of if it’s a job, a new activity you’re trying out or even a relationship. If your gut feeling is telling you that something isn’t for you - don’t ignore it. Eventually you should get a fair gist of where you should be going and what you should be doing - even if the actual purpose in itself doesn’t become apparent until much later. 

Or at least, this is what my theory is. As I said, I have no clue. But this is what I’m doing and it’s definitely been working.

19. Don’t feel forced to have a detailed life plan.

Don’t get me wrong here - having goals, plans and aspirations is extremely important. However, having your whole life planned to the minute just isn’t realistic. I have written about how I used to be extremely adamant on being in control of every single situation, and would have a minor (major) breakdown whenever plans changed in a way that I couldn’t affect.

Having a nervy b everytime something doesn’t work out in your favour is obviously a very counterproductive (and hella childish) coping mechanism - if you can even call it that. Nowadays, I just try to stay as open minded and flexible as possible whenever life feels like throwing me one of its cute little curveballs, so I can try my best to adapt to the situation and keep moving forward, as opposed to throwing all my toys out of the pram like a spoilt brat whenever a minor obstacle to my plans presents itself.

What’s more is that having a rigid life plan with hard deadlines for when you should’ve accomplished certain things leads to - in my experience - another unnecessary reason to start criticising yourself, which we at this point know is a waste of time, energy and just bad vibes in general.

Just relax. Honestly. You’re doing great, regardless of if you’re exactly where you want to be or not. 

20. Put yourself first. Always.

I’ve touched on this multiple times in this post already, but I definitely feel like it deserves its own point. I also want to direct this specifically to women - although some of the gems of wisdom I’m about to drop can be applied to men too, I assume. I don’t really care if they don’t though, to be honest - everything else in this world is already for them, so I’m sure reading something that isn’t won’t kill them.

Sis. I know you are exhausted from being strong all the time - yet here you are, still standing and still fighting. For what it’s worth, know that whoever and wherever you are - I am extremely proud of you for constantly picking yourself up and dusting yourself off every time you are mistreated, disrespected and/or taken for granted.

But it shouldn’t be like that.

You may have been taught early in life to always put your own health, happiness, dreams and wellbeing to the side when needed to accommodate and support others - because that’s what women are mEaNt To Do. But this is so inherently f*cked up, wrong and unfair - it genuinely pisses me off whenever I think about it because it literally makes zero sense to me. It reinforces the notion that we only exist to serve, protect, help and satisfy others needs - whether it be in a family setting, at work or in relationships… almost as if we aren’t human beings with feelings.

Yeah… f*ck that. Call it tough love, but I really need you to grow a back bone right now. Too many times have I personally felt/heard about us feeling the need to bend over backwards for people that do nothing to help or protect us from the pains that life can bring, so clearly you need to be there for your own damn self. Think about it - that ex/potential/fwb/mcm that you’ve spent so many sleepless nights obsessing, crying and worrying about, and that you tried so hard to keep satisfied to the point of mental, emotional and physical exhaustion - where are they now? Living rent free in your head and almost definitely not thinking about you.

Yes, I am a little heated. Yes, I am projecting. And yes, if I ever catch you placing a mans needs and feelings over your own, you will catch these hands because clearly you haven’t been listening.

All jokes aside and as cheesy as it sounds - you are a queen, and I need you to step into your power right now. I want so much better for you, and you can’t get better until you fix your priorities. Your focus should always be on protecting your heart and mental/spiritual health - regardless of the situation you find yourself in. It is 100% possible to nurture and care for others without giving up your sense of self and power, so please, please, please find a balance that empowers and benefits you, and you alone. 

21. Learn how to practice detachment.

I have plans to write a post about this in depth in the near future, so I won’t delve too deep into it here. In short, detachment refers to the practice of severing ties to people, feelings and memories that may have meant a lot to you for a long time and had a major impact on your life, but that you now realise are toxic and are holding you back from moving forward and growing as a person. Essentially, it is all about forgiving, forgetting, letting go and moving on from whatever hurt that may still be lingering long after the situation is over - and never bringing it up again.

Sounds great right?

Wrong. Detachment f*cking sucks - but it is extremely important. As I’ve mentioned earlier, I naturally hate giving up on people and I tend to obsessively reflect on past situations. I try to convince myself that all this reflecting and overthinking is helping me heal - which it has, to a certain degree - but the honest truth is that it takes up a lot of time in the present. It’s emotionally exhausting and time consuming. Detachment, on the other hand, basically forces you to not even acknowledge the past pain and hurt someone has caused you, and placing all your focus on the present and the future… so this is naturally a very hard task for me. 

With that being said, it’s pretty obvious that it’s not going to be easy for anybody. Reaching a level of emotional maturity in which you can completely disregard the pain someone that meant a lot to you has caused you really sounded impossible to me at first - especially mixed with the complicated feeling of not wanting to “abandon” the person that hurt you. But I’ve been working on this very hard during the lockdown, and I can confirm that after doing it for a while you begin to realise that the situation's power over you is entirely determined by the importance you attach to it. Once you learn how to remove that importance and your emotions from the equation, you’re one step closer to being able to truly move on.

Anyways. Stay tuned for a post about this because there is a lot to unpack.

22. Don’t be afraid to ask for help.

This is another one I struggle with a lot, because who wants to feel like a weak-ass b*tch who can’t manage on her own? Not I, said the cat.

All jokes aside, I think many of us can relate to not wanting to bUrDeN our friends and family with our struggles and problems, simply because we’re now at an age where everyone has their own lives to tend to and figure out. No one wants to feel like they’re being annoying, or feel stupid and paranoid about being judged because they can’t figure their own sh*t out (more projection for ya!). 

I’ve really been working hard to get rid of the notion that asking for help has anything to do with intelligence or capability, but it’s very difficult to do so when you’ve been raised in an environment where admitting that you can’t manage to do something alone was often equated with not trying hard enough, or not being smart enough. Asking for help was seen as a weakness and a last resort, and I’d often feel ashamed to admit that I was struggling with something.

The funny thing is that while I apply all these rules about not burdening/disturbing people with my problems to myself, I’d literally drop everything in a nanosecond to help a friend out if I could. I’ve noticed this a lot with my friends, too - we’re reluctant to ask for help, but always there for each other if needed. This if anything proves that the fear of being judged/annoying is all in our heads, and that we should be kind enough to ourselves to allow ourselves to be helped from time to time. Yes, everyone wants to be that superwoman/man that has all their sh*t together - but the reality is that we are all human, and life can be very brutal at times. Surrounding yourself with people that care about you and want to see you win is key - and although allowing yourself to lean on someone else from time to time might take a little (a lot) of pride-swallowing, I promise that you will feel better once you’ve shared the load of your problems.

23. Don’t let past experiences poison current friendships.

This is quite possibly the biggest challenge for me right now, and I’m literally only just beginning to get better at this. I’ve mentioned multiple times that my overly empathetic and accommodating personality has attracted a lot of sh*tty “friends” over the years, and for the longest time I blamed myself and thought there was something wrong with me for constantly allowing people to treat me so poorly. As a result of this, I developed hella trust and abandonment issues.

I genuinely didn’t even realise how much these experiences had f*cked me up until I started taking my mental health seriously, and realised how much I had closed myself off emotionally to protect myself. I also realised that I - very unfairly - projected my trust issues onto people in my life that have done nothing but be kind and caring towards me, simply because I allowed myself to be so blinded by the past and assumed that they would do me the same way. I’m honestly just grateful that my closest friends could see through the front I put up and didn’t give up on me, because whew… they really didn’t need to.

The point I’m trying to make is that while it’s very natural to be afraid of being hurt, betrayed and disappointed again, you can’t live your life thinking that everyone is against you - simply because it isn’t true. Yes, it’s very hard to rebuild your trust and confidence in people again... but going through life being paranoid that everyone is against you is just setting yourself up for loneliness and bitterness, and we don’t want that. Again, what’s worked best for me here is working on detachment from the past, and learning to not feed into the feelings of paranoia that arise from time to time. It will take time, but you definitely owe it to yourself to allow good people into your life properly.

24. Step out of your comfort zone more often and just have fun.

Let me be very clear and say that I’m not encouraging anyone to jump out of an airplane - although that would definitely be a massive step outside of anyone's comfort zone. But what’s life without a little thrill? 

Regardless of if it’s as extreme as launching yourself off a cliff and placing all your trust in a flimsy elastic band, or as simple as just trying a new activity or restaurant, life becomes so much richer and more fun when you do something you wouldn’t normally do. It genuinely nourishes and stimulates your right brain - which for me is a much welcomed break from life having to be so f*cking serious all the time. 

It also boosts your confidence to try even more new things, and that’s when life starts to get a bit more interesting. Live it up, b*tch!

25. Make happiness your priority.

Right, so I appreciate that not everyone will agree with this - and that’s okay. You’re entitled to your wrong opinion. I’ve been very open about the mental health struggles I’ve had since my teens, and about the various unhealthy coping methods I’ve tried to deal with it. However, I’ve found that the best way of coping is very simple:

Just do what makes you happy.

Honestly, it’s that easy. A lot of people - myself in the past included - feel a lot of pressure to give their life meaning and purpose by using something outside of themselves to define them as a person. When I was younger that thing was sports, and after uni I thought I’d find happiness from pursuing the career I thought that I wanted. However, I realised a couple years ago that attaching the concept of happiness to an external factor will constantly just make you feel like it’s just beyond your reach - and when you finally reach the goal that you swore would make your life happy and fulfilled, you’re just left with an underwhelming feeling of “...is this it? Surely there must be more to life than this?”

For this reason, I wholeheartedly believe that true happiness stems from inner peace, accepting the past and simply just pursuing things in life that sits right with your mental health and spirit. Building happiness from within sets you up to be confident that you will be fine no matter what life throws at you, and will make you truly unf*ckwithable. 

With that being said, I fully understand how it can be easy to equate our obsession with reaching career/life/relationship/fitness/etc goals to happiness, but let’s say for argument's sake that you do reach every single of your goals that you think will bring you joy. When the pride and elation of accomplishing these goals wears off, are you genuinely happy? Or do you realise that your inner battles are still there, and that the part of your brain that was so focused on accomplishing this goal now just feels… empty and idle?

Okay, so that got a little depressing - but these are questions that I highly recommend you ask yourself. Chances are that you realise that while having goals and ambitions are important, they’re all air if you’re not genuinely happy on the inside. 

If there was a one-size-fits-all path to happiness, I would share it here. But unfortunately, the path to happiness is highly personal - only you can determine what will bring you inner peace and alignment. Personally, I started with reconnecting with my childhood self to remind myself what made me feel happy before life started getting serious, and went from there - maybe that could work for you, too.

26. Understand that everything will fall into place at the time it’s meant to.

I put this one at the end because I feel that it summarises all points very nice-like. It’s extremely easy to get caught up in how you think life is supposed to be like at this age, and even easier to fall into a depressed state when you deep how far away from this ideal you might be. As someone that has had the importance of an established career, rigid life goals and living up to others’ expectations rammed down my throat at a young age, I’ve always had this unsettling feeling that I’m running out of time to accomplish what I need to accomplish in this life - and I’m only 26.

What’s helped me a lot with this unsettling feeling is taking time to ground myself, take a deep breath and reflect on how far I’ve come, as opposed to how far I still have to go. I also force myself to remember that as long as I’m constantly in tune with myself and gently pushing myself to evolve and mature, I’m already winning.

You will find happiness. You will find love. You will reach every single goal that you’ve set for yourself. You will overcome whatever internal battle you’re currently fighting. You will feel like yourself again. You will receive every single blessing you’re waiting for - as long as you’re willing to put in the work and understand what is right for you and your mental/emotional/spiritual health. 

It may take longer than you want it to, but it’s important to remember to enjoy the journey and learn from your mistakes. As uncomfortable as it may be to accept that no amount of control and planning can predict life’s twists and turns, allowing yourself to trust that the universe will give you everything you need at the right time is extremely empowering and calming. 

Keep doing your thing, and you will reap the rewards in due time.

So, there you have it. If you read the entire post from start to finish, you deserve all the accolades because at the time of posting this, even I haven’t read it all in one go. I hope that you found something that resonated with you and will help you navigate through the f*ckeries in this life easier than before.

Anyways. Happy belated birthday to me, I guess. I can’t wait to never do a post like this again!

Love,

Liv

[codywalzel]

The Emoji Movie (And Weak TV/Movies in general)- A Entreaty to Cut the Snark

(In a public forum anyway, if you just want to goof off in conversation with friends, knock yourself out.)

So, if you’re drafting your scathing tweet for whatever the current week’s freshly released and much hated property happens to be:

Please don’t. Take Emoji, for example. First off, I didn’t work on Emoji. I have many friends that did during my time at Sony, but this essay isn’t for their sake. I would have worked on Emoji if offered for reasons I’ll get to later, but for now let me start with this: None of the respectable artists that worked on the film wanted it to turn out how it did. Business people with only a secondary interest in art controlled a product, with which they hoped to make money, and guess what, it worked. I’m not trying to throw executives under the bus here either. Executives, whose job is to make money, not to make “good” movies, don’t always the time or budget to assure quality. And honestly, even for the world’s best filmmakers, with infinite budgets and complete control, quality is never a certainty. So, especially in a time crunch, with a full slate, and unproven filmmakers, quality is not necessarily the best business plan for execs. At least that’s the perception to many of us working on a project, and I can see from their perspective the logic that stance. It’s a, “I don’t care if the fart joke is stupid, kids will LOVE it!” kind of thing. Often, sensationalism and even bad press can actually be a good business plan, because that assures the movie won’t be buried. Kids like poop jokes, and adults want a ticket to the train wreck. The decision-makers on the film probably leaned into the low brow as an allure for the marketing campaign, making it a far more visible film due to all the negative buzz surrounding it. The producers don’t care if they’re serving McDonald’s or filet mignon, they’re playing a completely different game, and it’s about getting butts in seats at any cost. Incredibly talented artists fought hard to make the most of a bad situation, and as is usually the case, were outvoted time and again by money, because money had completely different goals. I’m in no way advocating an acceptance of mediocre filmmaking, or a lowered set of expectations for your media consumption. I am, however, trying to make a case that the culture of snottiness, and smug, side-mouth “witticisms” is one of misspent energy, presuming your goal is to help contribute quality art to the world. 

The reason I say not to waste time crafting some cutting diatribe is, the public negativity won’t ever hurt the execs, they won’t see the criticism, and they don’t care because the movie did fulfilled its financial responsibility as a product. But the artists who try and fail to make good movies take the brunt of all the negativity and snark that gets thrown out there. Even though filmmakers will likely never see your specific post, every bit of nasty amateur commentary contributes to a general culture of creativity-stifling artist bashing. Although we should always hold professionals to the highest standard, you have to try and be realistic about the amount of control they have on a project like this. This is not to say you shouldn’t recognize crappy choices for what they are, go ahead and notice what doesn’t work about a movie. Professional reviewers can and should dissect a work’s failing. But, there’s no point in taking so much glee in throwing rocks in the town square. The world just really doesn’t need another sick-burn Tweet featuring your “hot take” on the movie. We get it. You’re smart and the filmmakers are dumb. Your opinion is the same as everyone else’s, but you worded it slightly differently, so that 160 character Twitter review that starts with “Apparently…” and oozes smarm from there is better off left in the drafts. This type of schadenfreude is among the nastiest behaviors to which creatives regularly subject each other. To be working on a very visible project means that almost every artist on that film or show has legions of fans that adore their original work, and an entire industry to speak to their talent. Yet so often I see the artists themselves, and not just the one work, lumped together in the public eye as “the idiots who made that bad thing.” You might ask, “Why would they take that crappy job then?” For the same reason people who haven’t make it into the industry yet take jobs bagging groceries: to pay rent, to support their families, to pay for classes to improve themselves, or just to get them through to the next, better job. It’s not every day that the Iron Giant or Finding Nemo is staffing up, and you never know what kind of project a movie is going to turn out to be going in. So many huge successes fought their way to greatness after an incredibly rocky start. And many movies at a promising studio, with a great premise and solid leadership, end up being terrible. There’s no way to know going in. If you truly think you’re the exception to that rule, take out a loan and open a small studio, because you’ll be the most successful figure in Hollywood history if you can predict a hit every time.

Everybody knows now that the Emoji Movie is bad at this point. Any of the slew of amateur ”reviews” now will just be a race to the bottom, another rotten cabbage to throw at the guy with his head in the pillory. In these situations it feels like all the sassy internet hecklers, many of whom have little or no relationship with the process of actually making films, are lining up to kick a downed opponent, and make themselves look like a tough guy. Each slam is looking raise the bar on the new meanest possible insult, “_____ (movie) was so terrible it made me want to kill myself with my own ticket stub through a thousand tiny paper-cuts”.  The desperation of scrambling to find a “hot take” on an exhausted property is palpable. So many Facebook Status “Film Gurus”, Youtube Movie Ranters, and the ever scholarly forum commentators, are always at the ready to weave a mixture of diatribe and condescending, film-school-freshman lecturing. There’s this ever present tone of “if they only knew these obvious filmmaking truisms, they’d be smart like me, and make better movies. Please, please when will a producer drift into this forum, recognize my intelligence, and give me movies to make instead?” They then usually proceed to lay out some “rules” they’ve read from various screenwriting books. Rest the rules, because I guarantee you that the artists involved in these films read the same books. The filmmakers are just as big of film buffs as us, they watch all the same shows and movies, and they study filmmaking theory through books, blogs, criticism, and movie absorption the same way we do. Yet, with all their knowledge, you still get this kind of “bad” movie, which just shows you how hard it is to make a movie work. There is a harsh reality to showbusiness’ balance of commerce and art: a businesses’ goal is profit, and Hollywood Filmmaking is a business. Here’s a shortened example of what it might take to get a “good” movie made: 1. Someone makes it through the long and cut-throat-competitive thresher of endlessly pitching their ideas. For the sake of condensing many steps, we’ll cut to the part where the project is the 1% that makes it through development hell, and we’ll say the filmmaker survives their 50/50 shot of being replaced by the studio for someone they like better.  2. The filmmaker convinces the studio that “quality” will be a factor that earns money for this movie, and not one of a many possible marketing directives.  3. The filmmaker is also able to assure those footing the bill that they can achieve quality, and in the process get enough creative control to make the thing work. That often includes either convincing a studio that your ability to execute a vision is superior to theirs, or tricking them into thinking both of your visions of the movie are the same, and quietly seeing how many of their notes you can hide under the carpet while you and your trained creative team actually make it work. (On rare occasions execs are either excellent collaborators, or trusting enough of filmmakers to let them do the creative work they were hired to do.)    4. Assuming the filmmaker is able to settle the control issue, and wrestle the steering wheel from the people whose money they are spending, then the filmmaker must then have been correct about their vision being a good one that will work on screen.  5. Finally, if the stars align, then the millions of moving pieces that make up a film/show are somehow kept from falling apart. If all those fragile pieces work in unison, and nothing major changes with the leadership at studios, or the state of the industry as a whole, the project has a chance of being “good”. Even then, there’s no guarantee that “good” thing will make money.  On every project I’ve ever worked on, even the ones I’m proud of, the whole is so much less than the sum of it’s parts. Sometimes I already follow every person I work with on a project on social media when I come in on the first day. There are usually talented people in every department, an all star team, but the project is almost never an all star result. Sometimes it’s not even something I would watch.

Due to the safety and reach of the Internet, the culture of “critiquing” filmmaking has given every basement dwelling cynic and film school sophomore an outlet for their bitter condescension. I think this has led to the general impression that the most important thing that critics do is tear movies apart. I’ve even seen actual, professional critics resort to a kind of schoolyard rap battle to see who can deliver the most crushing blow to a film. But, the most acclaimed critics in film history spent much their time championing films they love- celebrating successes rather than brutally attacking failures. People like Roger Ebert and Leonard Maltin became legendary figures in film history by using their influence to introduce the world to filmmaking that might have otherwise gone overlooked. Hate what you want. Bash what you want. I’m not going to try and fight some crusade against internet flame culture. But, since so many of the people who so joyfully hate on films online claim a passionate love of cinema, just know that a horde of nasty tweets doesn’t help cinema in any way. Way more terrible movies are made than great ones, that’s both the law of averages, and a sad reality of the business. So, although one can learn just as much from a bad movie as a good one, keep it balanced- If you find that the goal of your criticism is to dog-pile an already hated property, I'm begging you to choose again:

-Be the bold person to articulate dissatisfaction with a beloved movie instead.

-Or champion the strong parts of a despised movie.

-Or even continue in the awesome tradition of Tony Zhou, by doing the hard work it takes to neatly point out successful things a strong movie accomplishes. 

-But most of the time, if you're in such a bitter mood that you want to publicly slam a bunch of strangers, your best option is to bury that opinion deep, deep inside of yourself, log off of your computer, and go deal with whatever is making you so angry.

[limejuicer1862]

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews

I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me. I gave the writers two options: an emailed list of questions or a more fluid interview via messenger.

The usual ground is covered about motivation, daily routines and work ethic, but some surprises too. Some of these poets you may know, others may be new to you. I hope you enjoy the experience as much as I do.

Dah Helmer

Born April 7th 1950, in Herkimer, New York and raised in Ilion, New York, along the energizing Mohawk River, Dah has been a resident of Berkeley, California since 1980.Besides being a prolific writer, Dah is an award-winning photographer, and a yoga practitioner since 1969. He is a certified teacher in two yogic disciplines, Shivananda  and Yoga Of The Heart. From these two schools he developed his own style, Chakra Four Yoga, which he’s been teaching to children in public and private schools since 2005. Dah stopped teaching adults in 2013, only to focus on the magical realm of teaching kids to meditate, to stretch, and to stay in harmony with the natural world.

When Dah is not writing or teaching he stays close to nature and has a great passion for coastal camping along the Pacific shores and backcountry camping along lakes and rivers, as well as cycling, canoeing, and daily long walks in the redwood hills of Berkeley. He also spends many hours in his self-designed and self-built garden meditating or floating into a trance state of deep relaxation, dreams, and visions.

Much of Dah’s poetry exhibits indelible images of nature and,  at times, his poetry can be beautifully melancholic due to the gloomy emotionally and spiritually depleted realms  of humanity, politics, and religion.

Dah says: I don’t always want my readers to feel comfortable in that uncomfortable poetry can create realizations that enable an expansion of one’s imagination and experiences.

Dah’s Books: In Chronological Order

• In Forbidden Language

with an introduction by Eve Costello

Publisher: Stillpoint Books, 2010

http://www.amazon.com/In-Forbidden-Language-Dah/dp/0982874707

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• The Second Coming

with a Foreword by R.H. Peat

Publisher: Stillpoint Books, 2012

http://www.amazon.com/Second-Coming-Dah/dp/0982874715

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• If You Have One Moment (Stillpoint Books, 2015)

Publisher: Stillpoint Books

http://www.amazon.com/If-You-Have-One-Moment/dp/0982874731

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• The Translator

With a Foreword by Elina Petrova

Publisher: Transcendent Zero Press, 2015

http://www.amazon.com/Translator-Dah-Helmer/dp/0692415254/ref=sr_1_1?s=books&ie=UTF8&qid=1437074680&sr=1-1&keywords=the+translator+%2F+dah

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• Say This In A Whisper (Red Wolf Editions, 2017) free ebook download

With an Introduction by Irene Toh

Publisher: Red Wolf Editions, 2017

https://redwolfeditions.wordpress.com/2017/10/01/say-this-in-a-whisper-by-dah/

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• The Opening

With a Foreword by Brenda-Lee Ranta

Publisher: CTU Publishing Group, 2018

http://www.ctupublishinggroup.com/dah.html

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1945791519/sr=1-1/qid=1521314590/ref=olp_product_details?_encoding=UTF8&me=&qid=1521314590&sr=1-1

• Something Else’s Thoughts

With an Introduction by Michael Grotsky

Publisher: Transcendent Zero Press, 2018

https://www.amazon.com/dp/1946460052/ref=sr_1_2?ie=UTF8&qid=1532729143&sr=8-2&keywords=something+else%27s+thoughts

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Email: dahlusion@yahoo.com Twitter @dahlusion

Tumblr: dahlusion

Facebook: Art Of Dahlusion

Google: dahlusion or Dah Helmer

The Interview

WR: Dah, thank you for taking the time out of your schedule for this interview.

DAH: The pleasure is mine Paul, and thank you for inviting me.

WR:  So, what inspired you to write poetry?

DAH:  For me, Paul, it’s more of who than what. The inspiration comes from nearly all of the 20th Century European and Russian poets, along with the Dada and Surrealist writers, which also includes Rimbaud and Whitman. Then, in the 1960’s, Bob Dylan, John Lennon, and Jim Morrison’s poetry/lyrics came around and the complex word-play in their writing has had a powerful affect over my creativity. It was as if a spell had been cast.

WR: Who introduced you to poetry?

DAH: I began focusing on poetry in my early teens due to my ninth grade English teacher.She would begin class by reading poems from Neruda, Whitman, Poe, and others. Something in me clicked with their poetic language and especially with Neruda’s earthy simplicity and Whitman’s sweeping imagery.

WR: How aware were you of the dominating presence of older poets?

DAH: I believe that the awareness is always there, whether conscious of it or not.  It’s understood that, as a young poet, older poets have always had a stimulating affect over my thoughts as a creative thinker. It’s the creative achievements of these older poets along with their ability to string words together into stunning similes and metaphors that, as a fledgling writer, lured my imagination and my interest.

WR: What is your daily writing routine?

 DAH: I would like to say that I have a writing routine, but I don’t have one. I’ve never considered of a writing process. I write when I have something to say. I don’t force words onto paper, nor do I force myself to write. There are those who are convinced that if they don’t write so many words per day then they are failing as a writer, and I find this type of thinking stifling with a side of emotional torcher. I’m completely relaxed about writing and about being a writer. Also, I travel a bit, which creates natural stimulation for my imagination. I write in pencil in cheap composition notebooks which I carry with me all of the time. There’s nothing special in my working technique, no glorified writer’s sanctuary.

WR: What motivates you to write?

DAH: My subconscious tells me when I must write. I never consciously think about it. Many times while walking or driving I have dropped to the sidewalk or pulled my truck over to get a first-draft line or two out of my head and onto paper. Again, there is no specific process or rules for my writing. There’re no deliberate set ups, no special pen, or no particular writing space, or any writers retreats. The only time that I retreat to write is when I open my composition notebook, or when I open a blank WORD doc. Any time that I am writing I have retreated, that is, into my imagination.

Also, I’m a member of the poetry critique group, The Lounge, which is a place where a few of us writers watch out for one another by critique and editing each others work.  It’s an online group that I created in 2013. I keep The Lounge at ten members or less. It’s a comfortable, egoless space to be a writer.

WR: What is your work ethic?

DAH:. To be a good writer one must be an honest writer, a writer of integrity, even if you are making it up you have to be honest with yourself about why you are writing this or why you are saying this.

WR: When you were young, how have the writers you read influenced you?

DAH: In everyway possible, artists influence artists. Ones development as an artist and ones many transformations as a growing artist are connected, in one way or another, to what one reads or observes from other artists. There’s no denying the influence and/or inspiration by those before us. On many different levels we, knowingly or not, establish an emotional relationship with those who have influenced us.

WR: Who of today’s writers do you admire the most and why?

DAH: I read many literary journals and magazines and to be honest there’s not much from contemporary poets or fiction writers that excites me. Currently, there’s an overwhelming deluge of sentimental writers, those who persistently write about their families, or childhoods, or about the dying process of a mother or father, that doesn’t draw me in.

I am a hard reader to please. It’s rare for me to be astounded, or to be left speechless by today’s writers. I am not stating that these are inferior writers I am simply saying that what they’re writing about doesn’t appeal to me. On the other hand, being that W.S. Merwin is still alive, then, yes, I admire much of his earlier works. There’s something visionary in his thinking, something deeply creative in his wordplay, something essential and fresh in his creative language. There is also an up and coming fiction writer, Michael Grotsky, who may be releasing his first collection of short fiction at the end of this year. I’ve read many of his stories, and his imagination is of a higher-level accomplishment. His stories are bold with unique characters, places and dialog. Grotsky’s fiction never fails to take me on a spirited adventure to places that I have not been, or to show me something that I’ve not seen, or to tell me things that I have not heard.

WR: Why do you write, as opposed to doing something else?

DAH: I’m an artist, and creative writing is simply one of my many expressions. Fine art photography has been another of my expressions for about four decades. I also paint, draw, play guitar etc …

WR: What would you say to someone who is asking you: “How do you become a writer?”

DAH:  To become a writer, one must write. There’s no other way to be a writer.

WR: Tell me about the writing projects you have going on at the moment.

DAH: My seventh book of poetry, Something Else’s Thoughts, was released by Transcendent Zero Press in July 2018. My sixth book, The Opening, was released a few months earlier by CTU Publishing in March 2018. Currently, my eighth book, Full Life In The Day Of A Poet: selected poems, is in production with Cyberwit Press. The 100-plus poems in this collection are culled from my first four books. The release of “Full Life … “ should be March 2019. Also, I’m continually submitting my poems to journals and magazines, which amounts to about fifty to seventy of my poems published each year. Over the past few years I have had hundreds of poems published in scores of literary zines, in both academic and non-academic periodicals. In addition to all of these writing projects, I’m sorting through my literally thousands of photographs for my first photographic book. If I stay focused I may even see it to a finished piece of work with about fifty-to-hundred images.

WR: Dah, thank you for this insight into your world as an artist.

DAH: Thank you, Paul, for having me here.

Wombwell Rainbow Interviews: Dah Helmer Wombwell Rainbow Interviews I am honoured and privileged that the following writers local, national and international have agreed to be interviewed by me.

[susantregre]

Give the Gift of Time this Christmas

Maybe you are like me, and you are overwhelmed with the amount of stuff your family is collecting. This year, instead of more stuff we will be encouraging our family to give the gift of time this Christmas.  I will providing you with a list of ideas, but I also would love you to head to the Kids Activities Blog search bar  and type in “10 Things to do with Kids in” because you’ll find great resources to do with kids in a variety of cities across the globe. Maybe you will find your own city there. If you are in the Seattle or Tacoma Washington area, I have some great resources on my site, Meaningful Mama.

Please hear my heart. I am not against toys. I love toys. I walk into a toy store, especially the really cool smaller ones, and I feel like a kid again. However, the truth is that kids can get overwhelmed with too much stuff. I often find myself buying just to buy at Christmas time. It’s what you do. I do believe that we can set our kids at a disadvantage  when they have too much. Buying just to buy doesn’t help. Rather than focusing on one set of toys, I find my kids flitting around from thing to thing without a lot of engagement. I wonder if we are stifling their creativity because of our “too much stuff” issue.

Does your child’s space often look like the picture above? Perhaps you have the problem of having an amount of toys that your child can’t manage well. If you feel overwhelmed with their things, I can tell you that your child feels overwhelmed too but doesn’t have the words or insight to be able to express it.

One solution we have had in the past is that at Christmas and birthday times we have a clean out. We don’t have a big house. We have no space left. We don’t need extra stuff. Therefore, for every gift we are given we try and give one away. This applies to the adults too. There are a lot of great charities out there. Some times we fall into the trap of only wanting to give things away if they are broken, torn or stained. We do this at the cost of acquiring more, often creating chaos in our home. I was super challenged and inspired by a post entitled, “Dear World: Let’s Stop Giving Our Crap to the Poor” by We Are That Family.

What is another solution if you are struggling with the amount of stuff your family is acquiring?

Give the Gift of Time this Christmas

What does it look like to give the gift of time? There are so many great ideas, and I want to be able to explore the possibilities with you today. Maybe you’re not ready to get rid of the idea of giving toys and things completely, but perhaps  this will inspire you to make some of your gifts the gift of time, which really is more valuable than anything you can buy off the shelf. As you can see, below, I’ve compiled a list of ideas that range from super inexpensive to expensive to accommodate all income levels.

The gift of time is a great gift idea for grandparents to give as well. This is a win, win because it becomes not only a gift for the child but also a gift for the parent of that child.

Let’s look at the options for giving differently this Christmas:

Time with You –  Kids need you. They need you to take the time to focus completely on them. We can be so distracted, and it takes discipline to take the time, put the cell phone away and be present with your children. This gift can be fancy and involved or simple. Here a some fun ideas. Create a flyer that you can wrap up that explains the gift of time they have been given.

Game Day – Create a day filled with board games, active games and puzzles.

Zoo Trip

Children’s Museum Trip

Fancy Dinner Date with Mommy or Daddy

Movies

Bowling

Family Vacation – “Hey Kids, Rather than presents this year, we are going to DISNEYLAND!!”

Baking Day – Deliver your creations to friends as a random act of kindness.

Camping Trip

Craft Day

Scavenger Hunt

Wii Play Day

Take a Staycation

Make a Coupon Book with ideas like: “Mom Does Your Chore,” “Get out of Consequence Free,” “Good for an Ice Cream Date,” “Dad will Play a Game of Your Choice,” “Extra TV Show,” or “Dinner of Choice.” You can get super creative with the coupons you make.

Family Slumber Party in the Living Room

Sporting Event or Season Tickets

A Day of Memories – Look at family home videos or pictures. Edit your videos together, setting it to music or create a scrapbook.

Family Nature  Day – Take a hike. Head to the mountains to sled. Go to the beach. Explore the natural world in your region.

Dance Party

Ice Skating or Roller Skating

Bus or Train Ride to the City

Musical, Concert, Dance or Other Performance

Car Races or Monster Trucks

Time Developing their Own Talents, Interests and Activities  – Another way to give the gift of time is to give them the time to explore their own interests and abilities through lessons or passes. Extracurricular activities don’t need to be assumed by the child. It is beneficial for them to see this as a privilege and a gift. The trick is finding their passions and then support them in those pursuits. Here are some ideas:

Music Lessons

Sports

Zoo Passes

Children’s or Regular Museum Passes

Season Tickets to Sporting Events

Season Tickets to the Theatre

Art Classes (crafts, pottery, drawing, painting, sculpting, etc.)

Membership to a Gym that Offers Children’s Classes

Martial Arts Lessons

Cooking Classes

Golf Lessons

Chess Clubs

Science, Math or Robot Clubs

Voice Lessons

Opportunities with Theatre Camps or Shows

Dance Lessons

Educational Classes

Horseback Riding

Swimming Lessons

Time and Focus on Others  – Christmas isn’t about you. It’s about God sending his son to be the Savior of the world. What did he teach us? To serve others. If you really want to focus on the true meaning of Christmas, make this a time to teach your family to focus on others. Use your family time to make someone else’s life better. A motto we are trying to adopt in our family is “Spend Less. Give More.” I say “trying” because it’s hard, and we have a ways to go. Christmas is a great time to put our call to serve and focus on others into action.

Adopt a family – Dress up as Santa Claus and take gifts, cookies or even throw a Christmas party for a family in need. Do this as a family, and let your kids help with the shopping.

Give Life – Did you know you can give a family in need a goat, ducks, medical supplies, clean water and hope? World Vision  produces their Christmas catalog where you can help families who have little.

Make Homeless Packs – A couple years ago my family (my parents, sisters, nieces & nephews) decided we didn’t need to be buying gifts for all the cousins. The kids all agreed that for our gathering we’d buy the supplies, make cards and put together homeless packs rather than opening trinkets from one another. We kept these packs in our car to hand out as needs arose.

Serve at a Food Kitchen

Stuff a Stocking – SOAR International sends stuffed stockings to children in need in Russia.

Adopt a Soldier – Find a soldier to adopt over the holidays. Send letters and care packages.

Help Foster Children – Children are often taken out of their homes quickly, with only the shirt on their back. Contact your local foster child program to see if there are ways you can provide a stuffed animal, clothes or back packs filled with activities for a child who comes into their system with nothing.

Christmas Cookie Delivery – Make up a bunch of Christmas cookies and deliver them to your neighbors. For the past two years our small group has done a cookie baking party and exchange, making up loads of plates to take out to our neighbors with an invitation to church.

Give to Your Local Food Bank – The food banks have a high need during the holiday times. Consider giving over the holidays or throughout the year.

Invite People Into Your Home – There are many people without a family this Christmas. You might know a widow, a single mom or dad, a single person, a college student, or someone in the military who you can invite into your home. You can be the family that they don’t have.

You might be a family that wants to adopt this concept of giving the gift of time as the only method of giving this season. Great. You might want to still give toys, clothes and things to your kids at Christmas. Great. This post is an encouragement to consider cutting back and finding creative ways to give something that is more valuable than things – time.

The post Give the Gift of Time this Christmas appeared first on Kids Activities Blog.

from Kids Activities Blog https://ift.tt/2STd5ei

[airoasis]

Security, Positive Behavior Support, and Intrinsic Motivation-- Ryan Boren

The video itself is only two and a half minutes, but the way they efficiently pack in so much of what is wrong in schooling today is remarkable. To put it bluntly, it was a bunch of behaviorist garbage. It makes the argument that students are animals that need to be conditioned to do what is expected of them through punishments and rewards. This is music to many educators’ ears, because they all know from their teacher training that the foremost priority in school is classroom management. And when classroom management is taken care of, then they can focus on what really matters-test scores.

The punishments and rewards continue to compound on themselves. Chris gets to go to the pep rally later in the day where he can let loose and have fun. Chris is a good boy, and gets to do good boy things. Jill, however, is a bad girl, so she must go to detention instead of going to the pep rally. Perhaps making Jill sit in a room by herself while everyone else is having fun will teach her to ‘act right.’

Hero K12 reaffirms everything that is perceived to be right with Chris, and everything that is perceived to be wrong with Jill. However, what if Jill had a good excuse for being late? Like she needed to take care of a sibling in the morning because of a family emergency? Or what if she works a part-time job in the evening and is not getting enough sleep? It does not matter in the world of Hero K12, though, because only zeroes fail to show up on time.

But when we assume that data points to behavior, and that points to the means to control behavior, we become authorized to create methods, approaches, and technologies that fulfill that promise. I offer as exhibit A this promotional video for Hero K12 a student monitoring system that gathers data from student behavior in on-ground learning environments (aka, the augmented reality LMS).

I’ve shared this video out on Twitter (with a nod to Audrey Watters, who originally shared it here), and the overall response was one of horror. My network was concerned about this level of monitoring, about the reduction of students to data, about the fact that Jill’s home or family situation, her access to transportation, nor any other factor outside of her name and grade level are considered by the Hero K12 human management system. For myself, I am most concerned about the inability of students to fully understand and to resist or change the system. While I have no doubts students are capable of breaking the system, or making it work for them, Hero K12 represents a determinant, one which students must adapt to, one which requires a surrender of their agency. They become their data, and while they may find ways to feed certain data into the system, they have no power to resist their own reduction to numbers, patterns, and statistics.

The LMS threatens the same reduction of human complexity to simple data. I say “simple” because even when data is nuanced and complex, it fails to be an accurate representation of a human being. This is not to say data cannot indicate certain behaviors, nor that it is useless, only that it has limitations. But it is not those limitations that are advertised, not those limitations that we’re trained to observe; instead, we are encouraged to see data as descriptive, not just indicative. And when that happens, a surfeit of data erects a barrier between students, teachers, and administrators. But most importantly, and least spoken about, data as a determinant erects a barrier between a student and themselves.

ABOUT FIVE YEARS AGO, a cluster of new technologies began to migrate through the nation’s schools like a gaggle of fall geese. Schools have long devised policies and procedures to manage and shape students’ behavior. Sticker charts. Detentions. Referrals. Rewards. Educators routinely point to classroom management as one of the most important skills of being a great teacher, and new teachers in particular are likely to say this is one of their most significant challenges. These novel apps, bearing names like ClassDojo and Hero K12, promised to help by collecting students’ behavioral data and encouraging teachers to project the stats onto their classroom’s interactive whiteboard in order to keep students “on task.” It is, they claim, all part of a push to create a “positive classroom culture.”

Skinner’s theories have fallen out of favor in some education circles. Noam Chomsky, for one, wrote of Skinner’s behaviorism that “The tendencies in our society that lead toward submission to authoritarian rule may prepare individuals for a doctrine that can be interpreted as justifying it.”

But of course, that has always been the underpinning of behaviorism—an emphasis on positive reinforcement techniques in order to more effectively encourage “correct behavior.” “Correct behavior,” that is, as defined by school administrators and software makers. What does it mean to give these companies—their engineers, their designers—this power to determine “correct behavior”? How might corporate culture, particularly Silicon Valley culture, clash with schools’ culture and values? These behavior management apps are, in many ways, a culmination of Skinner’s vision for “teaching machines”—“continuous automatic reinforcement.” But it’s reinforcement that’s combined now with a level surveillance and control of students’ activities, in and out of the classroom, that Skinner could hardly have imagined.

Deficit ideology, surveillance capitalism, mindset marketing, and behaviorism are an unholy alliance. My school district has adopted all of them. When we buy into this stuff, we gaslight and harm kids and reward the forces trying to destroy public education. Behaviorists are misbehaving, and the deficit model capitalism of ed-tech is funding and spreading that misbehavior.

“We are breeding a new generation of kids who are well trained to be reward and recognition torpedoes,” Berkowitz writes.

But a substantial body of social science research going back decades has concluded that giving rewards for certain types of behavior is not only futile but harmful. In his book Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, Daniel Pink identifies seven drawbacks to extrinsic rewards: they cripple intrinsic motivation, limit performance, squash creativity, stifle good conduct, promote cheating, can become habit-forming, and spur a short-term mindset. Giving prizes for routine and mindless tasks can be moderately effective, Pink writes. But offering rewards for those tasks that are “inherently interesting, creative, or noble…is a very dangerous game.” When it comes to promoting good behavior, extrinsic rewards are “the worst ineffective character education practice used by educators,” Berkowitz writes.

Many contemporary writers on psychology — specifically the psychologies of work, business, and economics — have written about the value of intrinsic motivation. First observed by researchers in the 1950s, and built upon in the 1970s, intrinsic motivation is often contrasted with extrinsic motivation. The latter is akin to “the carrot and the stick,” while intrinsic motivation originates from internal drives to be good at things and to enjoy them — drives that seemingly have very little to do with carrots and sticks.

People who write about business psychology agree that, in our current economy, fostering intrinsic motivation in workers creates the best outcomes for businesses. Some businesses (and business gurus) call that sort of motivation “happiness.” Others focus on “culture” to foster motivation. But what keeps coming up again and again across all of the business psych books and articles I’ve read (none of which I endorse as products, by the way) are three main concepts that work together as a coherent motivational entity: agency, mastery, and legacy.

Typically, you have to have agency in order to acquire mastery. And you have to have mastery in order to leave a legacy.

Ph.D.s leave academe in search of opportunities for — you guessed it — agency. Then mastery. And then, hopefully, legacy.

The author of Drive: The Surprising Truth About What Motivates Us, Pink has studied findings in psychology and economics, as well as practices in the business world, and identifies three factors as particularly conducive to performance and personal satisfaction:

autonomy, which he defines as “our desire to be self-directed, to direct our own lives”;

mastery, or “our urge to get better at stuff”; and

purpose, the drive to contribute to making something better.

How can we maximize learning? By respecting individuals, by letting their innate curiosity and intense drive to explore and master things do its job. As Sir Ken Robinson and James Marcus Bach have both argued, human development is incompatible with industrial, assembly-line thinking. A far more accurate and helpful metaphor comes from traditional agriculture, where success follows from supporting natural growth processes without attempting to control them.

We’ve built most of our learning environments with sticks and carrots.

We’ve negated the power of choice and the power of letting folks craft an education that is grounded in their aspirations, their vision for themselves.

How do we build learning environments that embrace intrinsic motivation? Autonomy, mastery, and purpose.

Jonathan Mooney offers a great example of intrinsic motivation in this talk. This will take you directly to the relevant spot.