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funknrolll · 4 years

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FOCUSING ON JANET JACKSON: THE STORY OF THE ICONIC LEGEND, THE HIGHLIGHTS OF HER SUCCESSFUL CAREER, THE FIERCE AND INSIPIRING MESSAGE DELIVERED THROUGH HER TIMELESS ART

Hi music lovers, today I’m focusing on Janet Jackson, I tried to cover as much as I could with this article. Just know that I will write other articles about her, therefore if you do not find some particulars in this essay, just know that they will be in another future article!! I hope you enjoy this article💜

For 54 years the music icon “Miss Jackson” has and still is paving the path for many artists and inspiring us all with her legacy, talent, grace, and beauty, being the role model everyone should look up to. Today I am focusing on the highlights of Janet Jacksons extraordinary career.

Born Janet Damita Jo Jackson on May 16, 1966, in Gary, Indiana, the artist, was the youngest of ten children, but undoubtedly not the least talented. Indeed, at the young age of 10, she got the part of Penny Gordon on the tv show Good Times and her acting skills were already showing. The young child prodigy also made a few memorable appearances on the tv show Diff’rent Strokes as Charlene Dupree and soon got her role on the renown show Fame as Cleo Hewitt. Though the show business was not all flowers and roses for young Janet, who, even at the age of 10, was already showing her iron will to achieve the very much desired success. Indeed, as the artist recalled, “‘I would set my alarm clock for 5.30am, get myself dressed, and get myself out of the door for work five days a week,’ she says. ‘And for a 10-year-old to have that kind of discipline – there’s a lot to be said for that.’.

Then Janet decided to pursue the music career in the 80s, establishing herself as a singing star of the first order. At the age of 16, she dropped her first self-titled album. The pop, funk-influenced, fresh, and danceable record was the beginning of a glorious and remarkable career. Young Love even reached number six on Billboard’s R&B chart. The following year the artist issued Dream Street. The exquisitely pop album was entirely in the fashion of good 80s tunes. Not to mention the surprise guest artist who lent his signature voice in Don’t Stand Another Chance and All My Love To You.

However, in 1986 came Janet’s commercial, and most importantly, creative breakthrough. The artist teamed up with none other than Minneapolis-based producers Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis to create Control, the game-changing, legendary R&B-pop masterpiece that paved the way for the new emerging sounds of the late 80s. Through the empowering lyrics, the artist declared her independence with passion and grace as she affirmed in the title track, “this time, I’m gonna do it my way,” and she really did it. Moreover, the pure brilliance of this work lies in the extremely self-assured vocals and sleek slamming beat combo that presented Janet as a confident tough-minded artist who is in charge of her life and her choices. In support of her brand-new persona, Jam and Lewis crafted a set of gleamy, computerized hip-hop-nuanced funk and urban R&B backing tracks. The album eventually sold over 5 million copies, establishing Janet as a new influential pop star and role model. With this album, the artist was already showing her immense talent.

In 1989 the artist teamed up again with producers Jam and Lewis and released the hotly anticipated follow-up concept album: Rhythm Nation 1814. With this work, the artist became more overtly political, exploring socially conscious themes and issues, which were the whole fulcrum of the album. The singer took some risks with this Rhythm Nation as protest songs were quite uncommon in R&B, but making those risks paid off as the masterpiece not only assured Janet an even higher artist plateau, but it also had wildly successful results. As the artist sang in the title track “Join voices in protest to social injustice” or “A generation full of courage, come forth with me,” in this work, Janet explores themes such as racism, sexism, and feminism and flourishing as a person and artist in an environment ruled by both issues. However, some nonpolitical songs could not miss, ranging from smooth and silky ballads such as Someday Is Tonight, Alone and Come Back to Me to the pop rock influenced Black Cat, to the funk-influenced Miss You Much and Alright to the bright and romantically-themed Love Will Never Do (Without You) and Escapade. The album was a triumph and was accepted enthusiastically by the audience. In support of this masterpiece, Janet undertook her first tour, and it was a smashing success.

In 1992 the artist, along with rapper Tupac Shakur starred in John Singleton’s all-time classic, Poetic Justice. Janet gave proof one more time of her extraordinary acting skills taking up the role of Justice, a hairdresser, grieving over her boyfriend’s death, who writes poems to get through the sorrow of her bereavement.

Subsequently, 1993 saw the artist fully embracing her sexuality, which was crowned with her breakthrough homonymous album: Janet. The new image was trumpeted with a strikingly iconic Rolling Stone cover picture: an uncropped photo with the artist topless covered by two hands. The picture was then used as the album cover. One more time, Janet teamed up with the iconic duo Jam-Lewis and the outcome churned out did not leave the audience disappointed at all. The powerful trio left the synthesized funk in favor of warm, gently, inviting undulating grooves. The 28 tracked album is the product of the artist’s groundbreaking eclecticism. This masterpiece is a perfect mix of whooping cuts sprawling a sonic extravaganza where only 12 were proper songs, and the rest short interludes. The new quirky sounds were aligned perfectly with the brand-new public persona the artist created. The album shifts from the old school shuffle-beat-pop of Whoops Now to the New Jack Swing of You Want This. The leading guitar of What’ll I Do is a 60s flavored old school-rock hit with a bit of Janet’s signature sound. The danceable grooves of Funky Big Band are spiced up with old-jazz samples, while the erotic moans in Throb are a clear nod to Donna Summer’s Love to love you, baby, with some electro-trance influences I must say. A major sociopolitical hit could not miss on this masterpiece. The pop song New Agenda featuring a noteworthy cameo from rap Public Enemy’s head MC. Chuck D is indeed touching some relevant themes such as gendered racism and sexism, which issues were and still are much present in today’s society. The album is also featuring some enjoyable ballads such as the major hit and R&B Again, which appeared at the end of the movie mentioned Poetic Justice. With The Body that Loves you, Janet shifts to some jazzier, smooth, and silky sounds, while the slow R&B-nuanced Any Time Any Place is a groovy erotic jam. The angry This Time is a successful experiment in mixing rocky inflections with lyrical singing. The centerpiece was the album’s first single, the groovy alluring infectious ballad That’s The Way Love Goes. Not only is the collection a groundbreaking masterpiece sprinkled with revolutionary sounds, but what is striking most about this work is the intention with which it was produced. Indeed, Janet is a clear statement and frank celebration of female sexual liberation, which was and still is considered a taboo topic. Through this album, Janet explores black sexuality and lust, which is something black women have always been stereotyped about. Hence, with the explicit lyrics, the mellow and groovy sounds, the artist unveils these relevant topics making a monument to black lust, ultimately taking the power of her own sexuality back, which is portrayed as a beautiful, liberating act. With this masterpiece, Janet was baptized as one of the first real trailblazers and role models who paved the path for multiple African American female artists in addressing and embracing their sexuality fully. Additionally, the video of If was praised for being a beautiful, uplifting celebration and portrait of interracial lust.

Furthermore, how can we forget when Janet introduced her legendary brother Michael at the 35th Grammy Legend Awards on February 24, 1993? The artist wearing a gorgeous total white look and matching high heels matched Michael’s nestled pearls jacket. Not to mention her iconic, memorable hairstyle: beautiful box braids slicked-back into a high ponytail topped off with a had-band turned ponytail-holder matching the whole outfit. The jewelry was also in harmony with the outfit, as the artist opted for silver medium hoops (which went gorgeously with the hairstyle), a classy silver chained necklace, and of course, a couple of silver rings. Janet stepped on stage with the biggest, brightest, and most gorgeous smile to introduce her brother with one of the most touching speeches ever, beginning with “Before he won 12 Grammy Awards before he dazzled millions of fans around the world with his amazing talent as a performer. Before, he impacted millions of lives with his ongoing humanitarian efforts. Before all of that, he was one other thing, he was my brother”. Then she presented the audience an enlightening book of the instructions on how to become a legend choosing Michael as a guide. But the best part was yet to come. Indeed, Janet expressed her love and gratitude for her brother, and honestly, she had us crying the ugliest tears ever and Michael too “I just want to say one thing, seriously. I just wanted to tell you how proud I am of you and how much you’ve inspired me and how proud I am to be your sister. And how much I love you, I do”. It was lovely seeing Janet and Michael sharing a beautiful moment on stage and joking with each other. It was indeed a beautiful, heartwarming moment to witness.

In 1995 Janet’s came in support of her brother Michael in Scream, the lead single contained on the album HIStory. The duet between the younger sister and Michael finds the pair spitting out tightly wound lines railing against tabloids. The industrial beats and clattering percussions encased an incredible one of the most mind-blowing vocal performances ever. The sense of frustration and rage makes it one of the most vivid and enduring songs. Not to mention the iconic video directed by Mark Romanek housing the siblings in their own hyper-modern spaceship complete with an indoor zen garden, remote-controlled art gallery, and futuristic squash court. The iconic video came in black and white, with the spacecraft flying over the earth and Michael standing in his distress capsule. Then the tv screen flickers and Janet closes her eyes in the distress capsule. A deafening noise reverberates through their headphones, and the siblings scream in pain. An anime comes on tv, and Michael breaks the glass of the capsule. With this intro, the legendary duo begins a mesmerizing and extremely arduous choreography in unbelievable perfect sync with each other. Not to mention the iconic outfits consisting of black and silver PVC pants, silver bikini for Janet, and black or grey spiked shibori crop-tops styled by David Bradshaw.

In 1997 came Janet’s follow-up album, The Velvet Rope, representing the product of her artistic revolution. With this album, the artist is summarizing the essence of the three previous works: the self-empowering messages from Control, the skin-deep social consciousness of Rhythm Nation, and the sexual liberation of Janet. Through the mature and experimental new sounds, the artist takes the listeners on a journey through the exploration of her psyche and sexuality: the outcome leads us to a darker path than the previous works released. Indeed, the singer sought to combine the sensuality of the last record to some more socially conscious parts such as domestic abuse, AIDS, and homophobia. Indeed, Vanessa-Mae’s prog-rock violin solo on the title track is setting the tone for profoundly spiritual work. The bass-heavy house track Together Again was an elegy for AIDS victims, which showcased a poignant vocal and lyric. Furthermore, from the raw and extremely vivid words of What About “What about the times you hit my face?../What about the times you said you didn’t fuck her; she only gave you head?” it is quite clear what the song is dealing with. And the anti-homophobia song par-excellence Free Xone shifts the moods and tempos segueing from a Prince’s Love Symbol (if you know what album I am talking about) like jam to an intriguing masterful sample from Archie Bell and the Drells’: Tighten Up. Extremely popular on the radio was Got ‘Til It’s Gone featuring the rapper Q-Tip and a reggae-crafted beat of Joni Mitchell’s Big Yellow Taxi. I Get Lonely featuring Blackstreet was another tremendous hit that traversed the dark side of desire. Then Every Time is a melancholic piano-based touching ballad (not going to lie this song had me crying ugly tears!!). The edgy rhythms and he drum-and-and-bass lite in Empty are enhanced by Janet’s delivery racing in a staccato. Then the smooth groovy slippery Go Deep is worthy of some of the best Michael Jackson’s jams (can you notice the resemblance with some of Michael’s songs?). Special is another fabulous piano-based ballad drenched in meaningful lyrics, a true anthem of self-worth-discovery delivering an essential lesson “You see? You can’t run away from your pain. Because wherever you’ll run, there you will be. You have to learn to water your spiritual garden. Then you will be free.”. The idyllic song is abruptly stopped halfway by Janet saying “work in progress,” because after all, we are all a work in progress in our journeys through self-discovery and self-love, right? In the second part of the song, the hidden track “Can’t Be Stopped” is a monumental celebration of being Black where the artist is encouraging other African-Americans to have the same pride “You were born with blood of Kings and Queens and can’t be stopped.” Furthermore, through interludes such as Sad and Memory, the artist explores her deepest emotions and grief. For instance with the few words of the album opener Twisted Elegance “It is my belief that we have the need to feel special/And its this need that can bring out the best in us/Yet the worst in us/This need created the velvet rope” Janet is putting into a small number of words the whole purpose and meaning of this monumental masterpiece. The Velvet Rope is, in fact, a metaphor for a place deep inside. We all strive to protect where all our feelings and thoughts lay. Janet, with this album, is courageously unveiling her Velvet Rope, letting herself firstly and the listener beyond it directly into her sacred “spiritual garden.” Indeed, it is not a mystery that the singer chose the symbol of the Sankofa ( which is also the symbol of the Adinkra tribe in West Africa) to represent the album. Indeed, its paraphrase means “You must learn from your past to move forward,” and this is again the whole concept of The Velvet Rope.

In 2000 the artist appeared in Eddie Murphy’s comedy The Nutty Professor II: The Klumps as professor Denise Gaines.

The next year, on March 12, 2001, the artist was honored with the MTV Icon Award, where the glittery talent roster included Beyonce and Destiny’s Child, Stevie Wonder, Aaliyah, ‘Nsync and Macy Gray, to pay their tribute to the legendary icon. To keep the hype of her new upcoming album release, Janet performed All For You the title track of her next album due on April 24, 2001. The singer ascended the stage in a gorgeous stylish all-white outfit and blew the audience away with her enchanting voice and impeccable choreography. After the performance was over, the artist thanked her dancers and her fans, saying, “It’s such a special night in my Life. An amazing night. Thank you so much. Because of you guys, I’m here. Thank you. I love you.”. Needless to say that we love our beautiful, humble queen more.

Moreover, after the super-personal and provocative Velvet Rope, Janet teamed up again with Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis to produce the sparkling danceable 70s/80s-influenced All For You. Come On Get Up (one of my favorite tracks in the album) breaks into a frenzy dance upbeat tempo and synth followed by some joyous and impeccable vocals. When We Oooo is an R&B downtempo percussive-based groovy alluring ballad that takes us to another dimension. The R&B ballad China Love is characterized by an extremely neat yet unique instrumental. The sounds of traditional Oriental chimes delve into the past love connections and other new age ambiguities. The glossy, silky slow ballad Love Scene is a sensual jam, perhaps one of Janet’s sexiest song in the album. Trust A Try is the product of a collaboration with hip-hop producer Rockwilder. The monumentally theatrical vocals are accompanied by a reinvention of the opera-genre rearranged into the rock key with electric guitars and cinematic strings. You Ain’t Right is a brutal attack on a gossipy friend characterized by a groovy upbeat tempo and some prominent vocals. The optimistic and hopeful ballad Better Days is entirely in harmony with the whole theme of the album (such an uplifting gem). The complete instrumentation with the guitar solo and striking strings are having us daydreaming of beautiful and distant places. The album is featuring singer Carly Simon in Son of a Gun (I Betcha Think This Song Is About You), which is mashed-up with Carly Simon’s song You’re So Vain. Another track containing a sample from America’s Ventura Highway is the upbeat synth-based ballad Someone to Call My Lover, such a well-crafted reinvention of the original song. The extra-slow groovy Truth is a typical Janet’s ballad in the fashion of Marvin Gaye’s Let’s Get it On. Feels So Right is another sparkling glossy R&B lo-fi track characterized by a prominent beat and some almost whispered sensual, charming vocals. Lastly, the title track, All For You, is a clear nod to the most memorable 70s funk masterpieces. The alluring upbeat and funk-influenced sound is having the listener daydreaming of the dancefloor at the Studio 54.

In 2004 Janet released her 8th album: Damita Jo again produced by the iconic duo Jimmy Jam and Terry Lewis. The highly anticipated work is another groovy, sensual, erotic, and unapologetic masterpiece, where the artist explores the crucial role of sex in a new relationship. The preponderance to slow-tempo, sensual grooves, sexual imageries, and spoken interludes are now Janet’s trademark. It’s Janet, and she’s unapologetically sexy. The R&B ping-pong rhythms of the title track accompany the sampled bells, the rap inflected scratches, and the mellow vocals perfectly. Sexhibition is alluring the listener with its infectious stuttering beats and the sampled groovy electro R&B chug, along with Janet’s intermittent vocal bubbles. The sensual vocals in Strawberry Bounce are mixed into an effervescent loop over which, if you listen attentively, you can hear elements of Jay-Z’s Can I Get A and Deon Jackson’s Love’s Make the World Go Round. The next track, My Baby, featuring Kanye West, is a regular R&B laidback slow-jam with on-point beats. Spending Time With You is yet another slow R&B groovy jam that sounds exceptionally familiar (of course, if you are familiar with Michael Jackson’s music). Indeed, the prominent beats, the sampled bells, and the mellow and sensual-almost whispered vocals are clearly drawing inspiration from Janet’s older brother Michael. Segueing the slow-tunes mentioned above, All Nite (Don’t Stop) is a pumping electro-funk whose infectious beats allure the listeners to the dancefloor. Yet R&B Junkie keeps the retro 70s funk vibe high with some well-crafted catchy upbeat synths and characteristic inflected vinyl scratching having us daydreaming of the 70s dancefloors. The album shifts into ’60s retro dazzle with I Want You. The squeaky-clean sugary puff sounds in the verve of the best ’60s classics are a clear homage to the glory of Berry Gordy’s Motown Records. With Like You Don’t Love Me, we are taken back to modern R&B, nodding to new soul stylings with its catchy production, the infectious beats, subtle guitars, and keyboard accompanied by the sensual girly crooning. Thinkin’ Bout My Ex is another slow downtempo jam where the artist explores the emotional consequences of heartbreaks. Following Thinkin’ Bout My Ex, the extra-slow Warmth is a swirling erotic jam. Moist is the sequel of Warmth, another down-tempo piano-based track. The next track, Truly, is leaning towards a new soul genre. With its luscious harmonies and silky vocals, the song is such a sublime masterpiece. Slolove is another in-the-verve-of 70s up-tempo jam characterized by meticulous funk beats. Closing the album Just A Little While is an apparent salute to Prince’s Dirty Mind (precisely When You Were Mine) combining effervescent elements of 80s Prince’ inspired guitars and keyboards. The wide variety of music genres and 60’, 70’, and 80s influences on the album are the product of Janet’s revolutionary and eclectic vision showing the artist flexing her musicology muscle.

In 2006 Janet was a 40 years old woman feeling half her age. Her 40th birthday also conveys with her breakthrough as a music icon and legend 1986. Hence, she released her new album, 20 Y.O. The collection is one more time featuring 5 interludes, all of them titled 20. The first interlude is, however, the most relevant one as the singer gives a clear explanation of the purpose and the meaning of this work: “Well, there’s something to... Are you recording?/ There’s something to be said for not saying anything/I’ve talked about racism, spousal abuse, empowering women, children/I’ve talked about a lot of things/What do I talk about this time?/ I’ve covered a lot in my 20 years/, And I’ve uncovered a lot in my 20 years/, But I wanna keep it light/I don’t wanna be serious/I wanna have fun/I know/I don’t know/That’s what I do know”. The first track opening the album boasts a collaboration with rapper Khia. If you listen attentively, you’d also realize that the song is a masterful sample of Rockit by Herbie Hancock. The outcome is an urban R&B synth-based with prominent on-point-beats. The next three songs present some other masterful samples, such as Show Me complemented with Kraftwerk’s Boing Boom Tschak, Get It Out Me with Afrika Bambaataa’s Planet Rock and Do It 2 Me with Brenda Russell’s If Only for One Night. The threads that relate to all these tracks are the playful prominent danceable and sharp beats and grooves. Segueing the steamy rocky-R&B erotic This Body in which the artist adds some sensual vocals that match perfectly the whole theme of the track: the reversal of female objectification. Therefore, the music and the vocals match the intensity of the narrative, and the manic electric guitar replete with steel drum rimshots. After the second interlude, the artist is back again to a classic R&B string-based downtempo mellow jam. Next track Call On Me, boasts another collaboration with rapper Nelly. The song is yet another well-crafted sample with S.O.S Band’s 1983 major hit Tell Me If You Still Care. The sparkle of the sampled bells in Daybreak glides like Escapade and Runaway. The next track, the neo-soul with a touch of retro vibes Enjoy, is a total breath of positivity and fresh air. The ambiance-neo-soul Take Care is a classic silky dazzling ballad in the verve of Come Back To Me. Love 2 Love is yet another sensual slow jam. In the 5th interlude closing the album, the artist states the fugacity of the 20 years, and ultimately she thanks God for the sense of humor. Then she starts joking with one of her old friends “Twenty years/Time flashes by like lightning in the sky/Twenty years of questions come down to ‘Who am I?’/Thank you God for giving us all a sense of humor”… “All right, it’s ten to six/You’ve gotta go, ’cause I’ve gotta go/Oh, now she’s throwin’ me out now that she had her little say/We have some lovely parting gifts for you, Lynette/Thanks for coming down/Haha, oh, she tryin’ to shut me up/ Do do duh do do do..”

The next year we find Janet in Tyler Perry’s movie Why Did I Get Married? The film set in a Rocky Mountain resort follows four couples who meet each year for a therapeutic vacation. The 8 friends converge to discuss their relationships and address their issues. In the movie, we see Janet play the role of Patricia, a well-meaning psychiatrist and writer who helps her friends to solve their marital problems. The sequel of the movie, Why Did I Get Married Too?, came in 2010, but this time it includes a lengthy section set at the Bahamas. The film is one more time an amid portrait of four couples dealing with marital crises. With these movies, Janet is showing one more time her never-ending acting talents, especially in the second one, when she had to bring to Life Patricia’s painful past. It is indeed, that hurtful past with the broad range of emotions that Janet managed to bring to life amazingly well, making the movie even more credible and touching.

In 2011 Janet released her book True You: A Journey to Finding and Loving Yourself, in which she recounters her struggle with weight and confidence. The book is as well featuring letters from her fans. True You topped the new York time’s bestseller list in the following month. The same year Janet was the first female artist to ever perform at the I.M. Pei glass pyramid at the Louvre Museum, raising contributions for the restoration of artworks.

Nine years later, Janet is back with Unbreakable, a profound and insightful masterpiece. In this album, we find a brand-new Janet with brand new sounds more new-soul oriented. The themes of the collection are as well different from the previous ones. In the title track is the artist expresses her gratitude over a relaxed and longing groove. The intensity increases with the dance uptempo song BURNITUP featuring hip-hop icon Missy Elliot. The mood changes with the probing synths and booming bass in Dammn Baby. The next two tracks, The Great Forever, and Broken Hearts Heal, are a tribute to her brother Michael who passed in June 2009. What is mesmerizing about The Great Forever is that Janet sounds almost like Michael. While Broken Hearts Heal is a poignant uptempo ballad with a retro touch that brings us back to the glorious Michael’s 1978 Off The Wall. The subtle crystal beat is exactly giving the vibe of Workin’ Day and Night. The lyrics as well are giving hints that the song is dedicated to Michael “It was a long, long time ago/But I remember it like yesterday/Amazing times while we were growing/’Round all the brightest stars the world had seen/ We made-up songs to do our chores to/And harmonized while we all did our part/Danced and sang our way through most anything/Always felt safe in each others’ love/It was in summer that you left me/The fall and winter never felt so cold/, And Lord knows words can never express it/Life feels so empty I miss you much/Painful tears like never before/We can’t laugh together till we cry/But our love’s ain’t no material thing/ Inshaallah, see you in the next life”. The social-message-song Shoulda Known Better rides on an electro-dance sound and synths to reach euphoria, which is perfectly aligned with the hopeful message of revolution and social change. With After You Fall, Janet lets the listener into her deep thoughts, showing her fragility. The neat and simple arrangement and the gorgeous vocals are flawlessly completing the whole theme and purpose of the song, putting the vulnerability and the grief into sound. The sparkling infectious electro-disco Night is a clear nod to sturdy Minneapolis funk, more precisely Prince’s Sexy Dance (Prince self-titled album 1978). Segueing the effervescent rhythms of Night, No Sleeep is a more relaxed hypnotic downtempo jam. Then Dream Maker/Euphoria kicks in with a Michael-like cry hitting high notes, then settling into a luscious psychedelic groove. 2 Be Loved and Take Me Away are two classic fresh danceable pop songs. The dark nuanced Promise sets the tone for the touching performance of Lessons Learned, where one more time, the singer lets the listener into her deepest fragilities. The dark-tinged new soul Black Eagle keeps the moods sober, unraveling a poignant, beautiful message. The gospel-flavored Gon B’ Alright, is a prominent link to the past in the verve of Sly and The Family Stone and Larry Graham Central Station with a touch of Michael Jackson’s Wanna Be Starting Something.

After the release of Unbreakable, Janet began The State Of The World Tour, which was launched in 2017. The title of the tour set the record straight on the themes addressed during the shows. Indeed, some testimonies from some lucky fans who attended the concerts recall the opening video making perfectly clear the message Janet wanted to deliver. A blood-red clip that flashed the names of unarmed black men shot and killed by police, denouncing white supremacy and ending in a chant of “We Want Justice.” Subsequentially, a giant portrait of the singer filled the screen, her image covered by the slogans “We will not be silent. LGBTQ rights. Black Lives Matter. Immigrants are welcome. Liberty and Justice for all”. Through the concert, the artist highlighted the importance of information with the lyrics from Rhythm Nation “information keeps us strong” and “if you want to be in control you gotta get yourself in the know.” The show featured as well lighter topics, and Janet did not spare herself some slick choreographers.

And how can we possibly forget Janet’s ICONIC performance and INSPIRING speech while accepting the Billboard Icon Award in 2018? The artist took the stage, offering the audience one of the fiercest and most impeccable performances ever of Nasty meshed up with When We Ooo (at the end of the song) and Throb. The singer also sought inclusivity not just with words; indeed, the performance featured a collective of dancers of all sizes, colors, and shapes. Eventually, Janet, introduced by Bruno Mars, graced the audience with an incredibly inspiring and beautiful acceptance speech: “I am deeply humbled and grateful for this award. I believe that for all the challenges, for all our challenges, we live at a glorious moment in history. It’s a moment when at long last, women have made it clear that we will no longer be controlled, manipulated, or abused. I stand with those women and with those men equally outraged by discrimination who support us in heart and mind. This is also a moment when our public discourse is loud and harsh.”. What a beautiful, stunning, inspiring queen!!

Furthermore, this summer 2020, the artist was supposed to start her Black Diamond world tour, but unfortunately, it has been postponed.

With this said, through her extraordinary career, Janet has proved so much and has achieved so much. Her unbelievable work ethic and talent have brought her to become one of the best artists on earth, and this is a fact. Her inspiring music celebrating women, especially African American women, impeccable choreographies, the iconic music videos celebrating, and uplifting black people have paved the path for many artists. With her vast contribution not just in the music business, Janet has become a legendary icon to many women and men. All hail to the queen.

Thank you for your attention💜 G.✨

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fishoutofcamelot · 4 years

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Zombie symbolism in media? Body snatchers? That sounds extremely interesting 👀👀👀

OOOOOOOOOOH ARE YOU READY FOR ME TO RANT? CUZ I’M GONNA RANT BABY. YALL WANNA SEE HOW HARD I CAN HYPERFIXATE???

I’ll leave my ramblings under the cut.

The Bodysnatchers thing is a bit quicker to explain so I’ll start with that. Basically, Invasion of the Body Snatchers was released in 1956, about a small town where the people are slowly but surely replaced and replicated by emotionless hivemind pod aliens. It was a pretty obvious metaphor for the red scare and America’s fear of the ‘growing threat of communism’ invading their society. A communist could look like anyone and be anyone, after all.

Naturally, the bodysnatcher concept got rebooted a few times - Invasion of the Bodysnatchers (1978), Body Snatchers (1993), and The Invasion (2007), just off the top of my head. You’re all probably very familiar with the core concept: people are slowly being replaced by foreign duplicates.

But while the monster has remained roughly the same, the theme has not. In earlier renditions, Bodysnatchers symbolized communism. But in later renditions, the narratives shifted to symbolize freedom of expression and individualism - that is, people’s ability to express and think for themselves being taken away. That’s because freedom of thought/individuality is a much more pressing threat on our minds in the current climate. Most people aren’t scared of communists anymore, but we are scared of having our free will taken away from us.

The best indicator of the era in which a story is created is its villain. Stories written circa 9/11 have villains that are foreign, because foreign terrorism was a big fear in the early 2000s. In the past, villains were black people, because white people were racist (and still are, but more blatantly so in the past).

Alright, now for the fun part.

ZOMBIES

Although the concept has existed in Haitian voodooism for ages, the first instance of zombies in western fiction was a book called The Magic Island written by William Seabrook in 1929. Basically ol Seabrook took a trip to Haiti and saw all the slaves acting tired and ‘brutish’ and, having learned about the voodoo ‘zombi’, believed the slaves were zombies, and thus put them in his book.

The first zombie story in film was actually an adaptation of Seabrook’s accounts, called White Zombie (1932). It was about a couple who takes a trip to Haiti, only for the woman to be turned into a zombie and enchanted into being a Haitian’s romantic slave. SUPER racist, if you couldn’t tell, but not only does it reflect the state of entertainment of the era - Dracula and Frankenstein had both been released around the same time - but it also reflects American cultural fears. That is, the fear of white people losing their authoritative control over the world. White fright.

Naturally, the box office success of White Zombie inspired a whole bunch of other remakes and spinoffs in the newly minted zombie genre, most of them taking a similar Haitian voodoo approach. Within a decade, zombies had grown from an obscure bit of Haitian lore to a fully integrated part of American pop culture. Movies, songs, books, cocktails, etc.

But this was also a time for WWII to roll around and, much like the Bodysnatchers, zombie symbolism evolved to fit the times. Now zombies experienced a shift from white fright and ethnic spirituality to something a bit more secular. Now they were a product of foreign science created to perpetuate warmongering schemes. In King of Zombies (1941), a spy uses zombies to try and force a US Admiral to share his secrets. And Steve Sekely’s Revenge of the Zombies (1943) became the first instance of Nazi zombies.

Then came the atom bomb, and once more zombie symbolism shifted to fears of radiation and communism. The most on-the-nose example of this is Creature With the Atom Brain (1955).

Then came the Vietnam War, and people started fearing an uncontrollable, unconscionable military. In Night of the Living Dead (1968), zombies were caused by radiation from a space probe, combining both nuclear and space-race motifs, as well as a harsh government that would cause you just as much problems as the zombies. One could argue that the zombies in the Living Dead series represent military soldiers, or more likely the military-industrial complex as a whole, which is presented as mindless in its pursuit of violence.

The Living Dead series also introduced a new mainstay to the genre: guns. Military stuff. Fighting. Battle. And that became a major milestone in the evolution of zombie representation in media. This was only exacerbated by the political climate of the time. In the latter half of the 20th century, there were a lot of wars. Vietnam, Korea, Arab Spring, Bay of Pigs, America’s various invasions and attacks on Middle Eastern nations, etc. Naturally the public were concerned by all this fighting, and the nature of zombie fiction very much evolved to match this.

But the late 1900s weren’t just a place of war. They were also a place of increasing economic disparity and inequal wealth distribution. In the 70s and 80s, the wage gap widened astronomically, while consumerism remained steadily on the rise. And so, zombies symbolized something else: late-stage capitalism. Specifically, capitalist consumption - mindless consumption. For example, in Dawn of the Dead (1978), zombies attack a mall, and with it the hedonistic lifestyles of the people taking refuge there. This iteration props up zombies as the consumers, and it is their mindless consumption that causes the fall of the very system they were overindulging in.

Then there was the AIDS scare, and the zombie threat evolved to match something that we can all vibe with here in the time of COVID: contagion. Now the zombie condition was something you could get infected with and turn into. In a video game called Resident Evil (1996), the main antagonist was a pharmaceutical company called the Umbrella Corporation that’s been experimenting with viruses and bio-warfare. In 28 Days Later (2002), viral apes escape a research lab and infect an unsuspecting public.

Nowadays, zombies are a means of expressing our contemporary fears of apocalypse. It’s no secret that the world has been on the brink for a while now, and everyone is waiting with bated breath for the other shoe to drop. Post-apocalypse zombie movies act as simultaneous male power fantasy, expression of contemporary cynicism, an expression of war sentiments, and a product of the zombie’s storied symbolic history. People are no longer able to trust the government, and in many ways people have a hard time trusting each other, and this manifests as an every-man-for-himself survivalist narrative.

So why have zombies endured for so long, despite changing so much? Why are we so fascinated by them? Well, many say that it’s because zombies are a way for us to express our fears of apocalypse. Communism, radiation, contagion - these are all threats to the country’s wellbeing. Some might even say that zombies represent a threat to conversative America/white nationalism, what with the inclusion of voodooism, foreign entities, and late-stage capitalism being viewed as enemies.

Personally, I might partly agree with the conservative America thing, but I don’t think zombies exist to project our fears onto. That’s just how villains and monsters work in general. In fiction, the conflict’s stakes don’t hit home unless the villain is intimidating. The hero has to fight something scary for us to be invested in their struggles. But the definition of what makes something scary is different for every different generation and social group. Maybe that scary thing is foreign invaders, or illness, or losing a loved one, or a government takeover. As such, the stories of that era mold to fit the fears of that era. It’s why we see so many government conspiracy thrillers right now; it’s because we’re all afraid of the government and what it can do to us.

So if projecting societal fears onto the story’s villain is a commonplace practice, then what makes zombies so special? Why have they lasted so long and so prevalently? I would argue it’s because the concept of a zombie, at its core, plays at a long-standing American ideal: freedom.

Why did people migrate to the New World? Religious freedom. Why did we start the Revolutionary War and become our own country? Freedom from England’s authority. Why was the Civil War a thing? The south wanted freedom from the north - and in a remarkable display of irony, they wanted to use that freedom to oppress black people. Why are we so obsessed with capitalism? Economic freedom.

Look back at each symbolic iteration of the zombie. What’s the common thread? In the 20s/30s, it was about white fright. The fear that black people could rise up against them and take away their perceived ‘freedom’ (which was really just tyrannical authority, but whatever). During WWII, it was about foreign threats coming in and taking over our country. During Vietnam, it became about our military spinning out of control and hecking things up for the rest of us. In the 80s/90s, it was about capitalism turning us into mindless consumers. Then it was about plagues and hiveminds and the collapse of society as a whole, destroying everything we thought we knew and throwing our whole lives into disarray. In just about every symbolic iteration, freedom and power have been major elements under threat.

And even deeper than that, what is a zombie? It’s someone who, for whatever reason, is a mindlessly violent creature that cannot think beyond base animal impulses and a desire to consume flesh. You can no longer think for yourself. Everything that made you who you are is gone.

Becoming a zombie is the ultimate violation of someone’s personal freedom. And that terrifies Americans.

Although an interesting - and concerning - phenomenon is this new wave of wish fulfillment zombie-ism. You know, the gun-toting action movie hero who has the personality of soggy toast and a jaw so chiseled it could decapitate the undead. That violent survivalist notion of living off the grid and being a total badass all the while. It speaks to men who, for whatever reason, feel their masculinity and dominance is under threat. So they project their desires to compensate for their lack of masculine control onto zombie fiction, granting them personal freedom from obligations and expectations (and feminism) to live out their solo macho fantasies by engaging in low- to no-consequence combat. And in doing so, completely disregarding the fact that those same zombies were once people who cruelly had their freedom of self ripped away from them. Gaining their own freedom through the persecution of others (zombies). And if that doesn’t sum up the white conservative experience, I don’t know what does.

So yeah. That’s zombies, y’all.

Thanks for the ask!

#dude #film stuff is one of my main hyperfixations #but to be fair i have a lot of hyperfixations #why do you think this blog exists #ask #fish post

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heat0death0of0the0universe · 4 years

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i gotta talk about Narrative Telephone

I. Fucking. Love. It.

when my extreme dislike of second-hand embarrassment takes a loud backseat i can fin so much that i love about it.

but what i love most isn't the humor. or even the continued critical role content. no, i love the allegory and the metaphor of the whole concept.

all my life i loved the concept of watching time move forward. seeing evolution, hearing language change, watching cultures rise and fall. but what i dont like is time and the fact that im along for the ride. id rather watch evolution, not be step 48801 of a process with no end. and sadly most media and general public doesn't like watching time change. no one wants too see how the English language evolves with a rise in Spanish speaking folks and pop culture creating new idioms and words. everyone would much rather watch something with the same animals with the same people walking the same cities speaking the same language, albeit maybe with a few more neon lights and holograms to make you feel like its in some vague ~future~. but narrative telephone gives me the change i like to see. i can finally feel like im watching a story going through the times and changes of a culture.

im gonna need to explain a little more. what better way than to show off all the current episodes.

episode one is simple, pumat and the big bad wolf. the sorry starts with pumat on a stroll through the woods. he finds a talking wolf and they fight. the story ends with the pumat eating a nice mushroom and wolf stew. but the changes to the story are what get to me. i love ashley, trust me i really do. but in this context, she’s basically the dark ages. everything crumbles and the story follows in the crash. this point is when the more brothers grimm tales and nonsense folklore are added in. people dont like the night, so the seen changes to match. suddenly the wolf not only speaks, but has a beak! the fighting through being somewhat vague in the original story now is lost to time and is none existent. taliesin builds off it, changing it ever so slightly from a garbled to a more of a warning story. a story that reflects a change in a cultures thoughts on the woods. when everything was all writings and giant building the woods where just a place to rule over and harvest, but after the fall now its returned to the unexplored. the place of fey and monsters that should never be explored at night. marisha adds winter and gives it just the smallest bit of added context. a man in the woods during night before might have been seen as mad or crazy, but a man scrounging for some mushrooms in a dead forest in winter isnt tempting fate, he’s struggling to live. a shift in view also makes it so that the beaked magic wolf is just as weakened by the winter, and is easily turned away by just a voice. sam is..something. if ashley is the dark ages than id say sam is like a renaissance. specifically a very drunk renaissance. the kingdom was risen and is filled with hubris and pride.its gained a very “man falls for his hubris” greek vibe to it. pumat has gone from scavenging to walking unbothered by cold dead winter. the kingdom has lost its enjoyment of strange creatures, monsters are still around in legend, but most have been replaced with magical people, with a clear rise in “person in an animals skin” tropes. the original fight has been mostly lost, now the story is that of a magic hunter who eyes the mushrooms taken by pumat and gives a chuckle and permission to continue exploring the woods unimpeded. pumat eats just the mushrooms, which now have gained the lupine taste, and the vague description of “he became something more” giving the idea of some sort of curse for his nature. Laura has added back the wolfs anger, but removed the suspicion of pumat. the curse is still in the end of the story though. this could be a change into more of a forbidden fruit trope. because pumat still trusted strange mushrooms in a dead forest with a magic guardian, he paid the price. travis is a sort of close to modernization of the story. its the point in time when its nonsensical nature and magic was viewed as weird and convoluted. similar to when we look at older myths with long intricate plans and think “nice story, but poor pacing”. liam goes for the “granddad telling stories by the fire” vibe. the tale has died down and is being co-opted for new use. now the rather dark tale has turned into more of a children's storybook with messages like not to trust strangers and to not do drugs being tagged on.

ep. 2: jesters ability to say 1000 words a second. pickadors plume is a story in a story. a story about gaining a treasure through a complex and detailed series of events with lots of loaded lore about the world with no clear description of what the treasure truly is. liam is the first few generations. the generation close enough to the original to try and remember, but not enough to keep every detail. the best example is of the ending, where the treasure should be. humans love rewards, so a story with a vague reward isnt enough for people. in liams generation transition to the griffon, travel, and fruit specifically being the treasure begins to lay its foundations. since this is already so long i will also mention that the transition from stone shaped like a heart ---to----> stone shaped like a hut could be an example of a changing dialect and language. sam, travis, and marisha are clear evidence of a shift in culture. jesters complete backstory wasnt introduced till now. and in it comes the cultures want to explain this event. humans love simplifying, but we also love to describe things. if we want to, we will add words just as much as we remove them. the dialect changes just as much. the new word of “schtupping." has either replaced or become a synonym of the word fucking, the name of the plum as even changed too. the treasure has gone from “lost to time” to “there is treasure, i just wont name it”. but fret not, for the mystery aspect is still in the story. for now everything will disappear like it never happened, or did it? though travis specifically specifies that you keep the treasure. humans love rewards, it was gonna come back eventually. matt is the sorta an enlightening moment in the society. at the very least its the point in time where people who know geography and history say “wait, that layout doesnt make any sense”. taelisan and ashley are the beginning of the end. the slow fall into the dark ages. the story becomes vague and small. slowly becoming more of a statement and less of a story. the society is forgetting large chunks and its bleeding out into other legends. there maybe a sort of thanksgiving/ christmas sort of event spawned from or because of the myth, but the story itself isnt going to live every far (hence why its ending in a dark age and not somewhen else)

Ep. 3: boy do humans enjoy rich’s, love, and drama. sam’s story comes from a society that warns against wanting what you wish for without expecting some strings attached and features a evil ruler to boot, just so they can date the legend. the story of a delivery boy who invents a pair of glasses to see through objects and uses them to win rewards and gives them all to a rich woman that only loves him for the money, and really loves the prince. matt changes the story so the two are already in love. but also changed it so that it was the greed of the prince and the wife that lead to the heartbreak rather than the delivery boys naivety. travis changes delivery boy from a clever inventor to just already owning the glasses. both matt and travis with there respective fictional cultures are showing how humans like to remember the stuff they liked in a story, so when they forget when something specifically came in, they just fill in the blank and assume its always been there. travis specificaly begins the stories slow march to a less heartbreaking story by adding a joke to help give the couple a more flushed out relationship. this is also the shift in cultural perspective. the antagonist began his life as a evil prince, but now is simply a rotten neighbor. this could mean the myth was co-opted to fit a better role, possibly after the removal of monarchy or just of a specific bloodline.the rich wife becomes just the wife, no money involved. this is also the beginning of what a full fledged re-write of the story. now the delivery man has gone from giving up to still being in love with the wife and now even standing up for himself. (possibly a mix of when the story was of a prince and used to promote the common folk to rise up against the kings, leading to the theory of a removal of the crown). ashely...oh ashely. this moment in history atleast solidifies the love between them, and even brings back delivery husbands inventor skills. liam is the slow clawing climb back up out of the collapse. he’s still very much in the collapse of the kingdom. but aleast its just before when begin to solidify into the new meta of the era. laura and taelisin’s era is a complete re-write after the collapse of the society. the focus has moved to more of a folk-hero style legend about rising above through theft and cheating (could mean that after the collapse the culture around theft changed from crime to fighting to survive. the antagonist has really changed from being the bad guy to just in the love triangle. the society seems to agree with every polyamourous person when we all say “this how drama triangle could have been avoided if you guys all just got together”. marisha’s only real change a more modernization from “specticals” to “goggles” and that the culture either wants to make half-orcs feel more inclusive or just really dont like goliaths and changed it.

ep. 4: deargodfinallyigottheneedtowritethisoutofmysystemsoletsspeedrunthisshit. liams story is an analogy for the horrors, pointlessness, and sacrifics of war. but over time the story shifts from a “we did this to ourselves” narrative to a “an outside force did this to use”. this shifts the goal from a need for peace to a need to protect everyone for the sake of the many. ill write more later but dear god i my hand might fall off soon

#cr #critical role #narrative telephone #telephone

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butterfly-winx · 4 years

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Eraklyon

Eraklyon is known for its riches, political intrigue and peculiar standing in the magical society. The lavish lifestyle of its inhabitants is supported by the ores and minerals hidden in the crust beneath the country, that has caused many an envious eye to be thrown at it.

Eraklyon is located on Manubra 47, a mid sized planet they share with 27 other countries spread over the continents divided from each other by unique freshwater oceans. Two of their most prominent neighbours are Nishii and the island country Callisto.

Eraklyon, like Magics has the means to supply basic amenities to its inhabitants free of charge, though on Eraklyon they do mean the barest necessities: shelter and water. Nevertheless those two taken care of the general stress level about self-sustenance among the low economical classes is staggeringly low compared to other countries of the Magical Universe.

Just like on Solaria, the favourite trade products are gems and minerals that they gladly share with their more famous business partner. A lot of jewellery is is made on Solaria, but mined in Eraklyon. Though semi- and precious stones may be what they are most know for, their other mining products such as oil and carbon gases is what gets them into tension with their neighbouring countries.

As nice as a life in such a well-off stable society sounds like, Eraklyon has never been the object of envy for most people who know what lies beyond the exterior. The country is almost always locked in war with one or the other bordering region in a never ending conflict over territories and mining rights on ground and on the colony planetoids. Borders have shifted considerably over the centuries, the people being displaced adopting a bi-lingual and bi-cultural lifestyle fluent in both Rak (the language of Eraklyon) and the other language of their residence. The instability this introduces had many people flee overseas to Callisto, or straight up just as far away as possible, onto another planet.

The war at current times is tame. It has morphed, and had to because of the massive causalities it has reaped in the past. Neither Eraklyon, nor Nishii, the two main perpetrators in the fight, are technologically underdeveloped. They had the means to employ weapons of mass destruction against each other and not too long, only two centuries ago they did, nuking most of the people and inhabitable zones of the planet. Magic may not be able to solve all problems, but with the use of the nature core most life was salvaged, the only evidence of it ever happening a scar on the surface that is slowly being filled by the seas. It was a grim reminder to the ruling class, that at the end of they are nothing without the people they are sworn to lead, serve and protect. The very ways of warfare had to be rewritten.

At this point, no one on Manubra 47 is allowed to hold an army at steady whose sole purpose is to lead wars. Military and its deployment are only permitted when the purpose serves the well-being of all people of the country, say an outside invasion or criminal activity, but never for the personal interest of the ruling classes. They are permitted personal protection units, but even those are limited in size. So the tension moved, the stress of being a casualty moved from the people’s shoulders with the war being solely confined to the royals and rulers themselves.

What began there is known as the Bello Sicarii, the personal war of assassinations, hits and extortion among the members of the royalty. This experience is what shaped Sky’s life growing up and necessitated employing Brandon as a body double for most of his life. It is not rare that it happens, because of the specific rules that further define the Bello Sicarii. In the first years, hits had an extremely high success rate, neither party really used to the new rules and the implemented security measures were lacking, leading to a much too frequent change of regents. That left countries destabilised and at the brink of another civil crisis that neither party on Manubra could afford.

The new postulations drafted specified, that in order to retain a ruler for as long as possible, adults would be largely spared but their progeny would not. Children before reaching adulthood were fair game, as interrupting the succession line of a ruler carried almost as much weight as an assassination itself. After an heir has reached adulthood, matters would get much more complicated with the young royal being able to sign contracts, make diplomatic agreements and get entangled in business relations, as to such that their “removal” would have significant consequences for the planetary peace and economy. This is something frankly normal to Sky, but he is sweating up a storm thinking if he had to ever explain that to Bloom in the event that they got married and were thinking of having children. (This is also the reason why Bloom’s impersonation of Princess Varanda of Callisto passed for so long, since Varanda has truly never left the protective hideout she had been brought up in and no one off planet has ever seen her.)

Religion on Eraklyon is a double edged sword. Their main belief is a strong doctrine that aims to lead people down a very predestined, rigid path of moral righteousness. In doing so, painting one lifestyle as supremely right, it has the tendency to demonise anything else that deviates from it. Especially magic.

Eraklyon, like Earth, operates a split society where non-magic people and magic users and creatures live in almost separate societies with a hierarchy of their own. While non-magic Eraklyonites know of the existence of magic and do use it in certain amounts, they fear it more than they appreciate it. Especially witchcraft, which has become a notorious example of why magic is bad in the eyes of religious people. In ancient times witch covens liberally offered trade and magical problem solving to those who were willing to pay a certain price for it. It snowballed into a sort of worship that angered the rising power of religious folk, who protested this kind of exchange because of the missing toil in the magical solutions. In their eyes there was no moral lesson, no growth in allowing oneself to rely on spells and magic alone, so they despised the the craft so much that witches entirely left the planet at some point.

The religious doctrine permeates almost everything concerning social life. The rigidity of it demands clearly defined social classes that are largely kept separate, like castes. Elevating oneself is of course possible, so the spiritual leaders say, if only one behaves according to the path of the right. Otherwise every misfortune that happens to one is justly brought upon punishment. This idea is by the way remarkably at odds with the motto of the country that states, Imbalance is paramount for progress, as it keeps social mobility at stagnation.

Imbalance and asymmetry are also beloved design elements that set Eraklyonites apart from other cultures off planet. They are not as avant-garde as people from Zenith, but favouring rich hand-woven fabric, brocades, taffeta and silhouettes that remind of 19th century Earth fashion. No two sides of a building, dress, or haircut are the same but the overall picture is never off kilter, both sides of the design packing incredibly high detail density. For this reason clothing is still hand-crafted and is not a mass market product like in other countries or planets.

One happy thing though that everyone will be able to tell you about Eraklyon, is that they celebrate a lot. They have 18 religious and commemorative days that are bank holidays, but on top of that they also value birthdays very much. Every person automatically receives the day off on their day of birth and may request other ones off for those of their immediate family - meaning spouse, sibling, children, parents, even up to grandparents. Job applications in Eraklyon typically start with a big wall of birth dates requested to give the employer an idea of when one might not be available to work. For seasonal work, people are preferred whose family doesn’t have predominantly summer birthdays, just to make sure harvesting is done on time without Celebration Delays, as they call that.

Eraklyon is a core member of the Company of Light. Being constantly at war gave them the advantage of having armies at the ready to be deployed to protect people from the Ancestresses attacks, plus their experience in battle strategies has come handy more than once, latest in the fight against Tritannus. The people of Eraklyon are a proud people, infused with blind love and trust in their homeland despite its shortcomings. However, they offer the same fierce love and loyalty to all the people close to their hearts.

#butterfly fic #eraklyon #eraklion #worldbuilding #I think I am going to make a separate post on the magic community on eraklyon -and diaspro by extension- on a separate post

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outerspaceisbetterthannothing · 5 years

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The Girl Who Cried Wolf [Alpha!Cal AU] Part 1

The Girl Who Cried Wolf | Royal Blood | No Love Go | Gimme

Summary: Two wolves can play this game

Warnings: this is smut, kids, nothing gross, but full ass smut, including masturbation, oral giving and receiving and good ol’ dick game, so 18+ oh, yeah, and lack of proofreading ofc

A/N: I have no idea how this came to life. We were just pissing each other off with @bringmethehorizonandpizza one night and whooops, almost 11k of god knows what popped into life. And as a matter of fact, I really love the way it turned. I guess, special thanks and credits go to @flannelpunkcalum for planting an idea of alpha!Cal into my mind. Didn’t know I needed it, Betty, thank you very much lol. Also big heart eyes to @calumspeachy for the moodboard inspiration. Note please, it was supposed to be a one shot, but idek, i may or may not have some ideas, so you can request for the second part ig. Feedback is extremely appreciated. Enjoy!

***

You took a deep breath and smiled. The air was cooling down after a hot day, mild wind playing in your dark unruly hair. The atmosphere around was buzzing with anticipation and music. So many people, so many voices and smells. That’s why you loved to be around humans so much. It was so easy to get lost among them, so easy to forget who you really were. You felt your muscles relaxing more and more with every moment spent there. That was the reason you’ve never missed a party, especially on such nights.

You were standing at a spacious backyard of some house. You had no idea, who was the owner of that house or what was the whole party about. A colleague of yours mentioned they were going to a party earlier that day and you agreed on going way too easily. Though, you had your reasons. This night a party was more of a necessity than a pleasure. You had to be here, surrounded by humans. You had to get drunk and lost.

Your smile weakened as you looked up on the moon. It was round, yellow and bigger than back home. You felt shivers creep up your spine and took a sip of your whiskey in a rather rushed manner. The clicking of the ice in the glass almost as loud for your hearing as the voices of people around.

“So, where did you say you’re from?”

You looked at the guy asking you a question, your slightly dizzy brain couldn't remember his name. Nate? Nick?

“I’m from the north of the country,” you smiled, hoping there were enough details in your answer for him.

“So, came here to warm up a little?”

“Yeah, that’s the plan,” you smiled again and slipped with your eyes to his lips. Just for a moment, but long enough for him to notice. You saw his light-blue irises getting darker, could hear his blood rushing in his veins. He was broad shouldered, pretty tall, with messy fair hair. Cute enough to keep you busy for the night. And even though you were pretty sure sleeping with coworkers wasn’t the best of your ideas, you needed a destruction tonight. You father always blamed you for unnecessary impetuosity. But the memory of him only made you sure you were going to have this guy’s head between your thighs soon enough. You just needed to remember his name.

“Why did you decide to move here?” the girl on the right asked. Her name you remembered perfectly well. Julia worked in the same department and, as you understood from scattered phrases dropped here and there by some people, had been hoping to get your current position. You knew she was a little nasty piece of shit, her look was enough to make your hair move. These were the moments you regretted human society wasn’t actually a pack. You couldn’t turn and show the bitch her place in a decent fight like a true daughter of an alpha. Instead, you had to smile and maintain the image of normal relationship. You liked your new position and this town, you were definitely about to stay. You weren’t jeopardizing all of it because of an envious cunt.

“I mean, we don’t really have people transfer from other branches. Especially people from big cities in the north,” Julia explained after not getting an immediate answer and giggled in such a fake way, you needed all your self-control not to roll your eyes on her.

“Yeah, I just wanted to change everything at once,” you answered with the same smile. You were almost enjoying how jealous she was. Reminded you of a feeling of superiority you used to have.

“That’s cool how some people just stand up and change their life like that,” your blue-eyed cutie snapped his fingers. “Whatever they want, they just go for it.”

“It’s not that difficult,” you mused, looking back at him, your tone getting lower. “Doing what you want is much easier than doing what you have to, actually,” you continued, leaving the emphasis on want. His pulse speed up once again and you couldn’t resist the temptation, saying, “I can show you some time if you want.”

“I definitely want,” he said and unintentionally licked his lips. You could feel how hooked he was already. You did a good job here.

“Hey, Nick! Would you introduce your friend to this gorgeous lady?” Some guy leaned on your pretty boy from the back and without wasting any time started to undress you with his eyes. You swallowed you roar and smiled at him, your eyes narrowed.

“The gorgeous lady would easily introduce herself without any help,” you assured that creep. “If she’d wanted to,” you added, hearing blood in his veins freeze from both your tone and the look in your eyes. You could smell his fear and confusion and almost felt right again. That was the feeling you used to plant in your father’s betas, and you couldn’t help but enjoy it now.

“You’re at my party, honey,” he found enough courage to tell you, “why don’t you try to be polite?”

You smirked and felt your eyes spark with animalistic fury. The guy let go of Nick’s shoulders and involuntary took a step back.

“The party is sick,” you mused in half-whisper, pretty sure he could still hear you.

He dropped some asscrack excuse to the people around and headed back to the house. Your smile grew wider as you understood that Nick didn’t even register his friend’s disappearing, too busy with admiring your hips. You found no guilt of his in that, such hips deserved all the admiring in the world.

You leaned closer and opened your mouth to whisper something promising to him, when a sudden rush of blood in your ears made you exhale. You knew the feeling, could sense the intense look right between your shoulder blades. You took a sip of your drink to mask your confusion and dropped a subtle look behind. You couldn’t really say if you saw him with your eyes or just felt standing there with your whole body. You didn’t even care, all your senses going mad at once and all the instincts screaming to run. The only problem was to understand should you have run away or to him.

He was tall, easily towering over people around. Dark hair and broad shoulders. Boredom and irritation sharing his beautiful face. His hands in the pockets of his black leather jacket. His yellowish eyes on you.

You felt shivers creep up your spine again, as you drew your attention back to Nick. He leaned to you and whispered some half-drunk nonsense into your ear. You smiled, still feeling the burning of that other man’s look on your back.

Or should you have said, that wolve’s look. You could smell him now and with how thick and intense his scent was, you were startled you didn’t smell him earlier. You took another sip of your drink and tried to inhale Nick’s scent deeper to shake that wolf out of your head, but it didn’t work. You didn’t need to look back to see if he was still there, you kept feeling him. And that feeling was too scary for your liking. He was the first wolf you’ve met since you moved here. And even though you did hope for this town to be a wolf-free territory, you were mentally prepared to be proven wrong. But he was also the first wolf you’ve seen in months. And you were surprised to find how easily distracted you’ve got, how little it took to sneak up on you. And you used to be the best hunter in your pack, no one could take you by surprise.

But the worst news was he wasn’t just a wolf, but an alpha. You slightly changed your pose, your legs brought closer together, and felt the wetness between your thighs. Damn omega nature! You could say he was an alpha from the first glance at him. The look in his eyes, his mere posture, everything in him was screaming of power and status. You knew that image. You used to wear it yourself. But the way your body reacted on him left no doubts. He was a damn alpha. And his eyes were still at you.

Now, being more conscious, you felt the second wolf from afar. The guy came out of the house and headed straight to the alpha, two glasses in his hands. He passed you by without even looking at you. That gave you hope that after all these months of staying among people and not shifting into a wolf, you could actually pass off as a human. But the way that alpha looked at you left too many doubts.

Nick bent closer and you felt his lips on your neck. The kiss was soft, like he was asking for permission. But the second one, after you didn’t push him back, held more passion in it. You leaned into his soft body and let his right arm snake around your waist. You were here tonight with one aim only, and you did your best focusing on human’s lips on your neck and the rush of the blood in your ears, so you couldn’t hear anything else.

***

“What kept you so interested?” Ashton asked as he handed one of the glasses to Calum.

Cal took the glass and drank half of his gin in one go, his throat burning of that little omega’s scent. He looked at his friend and turned to the girl again, nodding in her direction. Ashton followed his look.

“Quite hot,” he stated a moment later, looking around the crowd for someone more of his type.

Calum slowly turned his head and stared at Ashton. “What do you mean, quite hot?” he asked with a low groan.

Ashton looked at the said girl, leaning into some dude, kissing her neck passionately. Ash scoffed, finding the scene rather disgusting. “I mean, it’s hard to say about her face, but she’s got a nice butt for a human. Not really your type, if we consider you having a type,” he giggled at this phrase. “Can be not easy to get her from that guy, he looks pretty serious sucking on her neck. But I believe in you, buddy.”

Calum shook his head in disbelief. “Are you pranking me or what?” But seeing Ashton looking back with a total loss written on his face, he added, “Can’t you smell?”

Ashton frowned and looked at the girl again, his nostrils widen a little as he tried to capture any scent his friend could find interesting enough. He huffed and looked back at Calum. “What exactly should I smell? Besides of that dude being horny as fuck?”

“She’s a wolf, Ash,” Calum stated after taking another drink out of his glass. “An omega one.”

“The hell she is!” mumbled Ashton, looking at her again. “Are you sure?” “Of fucking course, I’m sure,” Calum huffed. “Can’t get her smell off my mind.”

Ashton frown grew deeper. “But, Cal, I can’t smell anything. That’s...strange.”

Calum nodded, his eyes not leaving girls back, following every her movement, even the most subtle one.

“So, her smell is what makes you so interested?” Ashton asked a minute later with a smirk back on his face.

Calum shook his head again. “Not really,” he answered and huffed at how obvious his lie was. “Don’t you think it’s suspicious? A new wolf in this town,” he shrugged. “She’s not from my pack or yours. So what is she doing here?”

“Maybe she’s from one of those southern packs?” Ash suggested matter of factly.

“At a human party? In our town?” Calum quirked an eyebrow. “Highly doubtful. Guess, I’ll need to send my guys tomorrow to check who she is.”

Ashton snorted and looked at his friend with a smile. “Well, this here finally sounds like you,” he stated.

“The fuck…?” Calum looked back at him.

“And here was I standing in utter disbelief thinking that you’ve finally decided to give a chance to some pretty omega. Fortunately, the world’s order has been restored.”

“Fuck off, Ash,” mumbled Calum, finishing his drink. “I told you so many times, I’m not fucking interested. And I don’t really see you mating around,” he added in an undertone, looking suspiciously at a group of girls walking past them.

“Oh, I’ll mate the moment I find my omega. I’m just looking for her. But you aren’t even trying!”

Calum sighed to that, looking at the melting ice in his glass.

“Do we really need to have this conversation in the middle of a party?”

“Can’t see any reason why not,” Ashton shrugged. “You’ve got so many omegas at your pack ready to mate with you if only you wish. What’s the problem, Cal? Alpha needs a mate. Alpha needs an offspring. Your pack should see you care about their future.”

“First, no one can say I don’t care about my pack,” stated Calum with anger written on his face.

“ That’s not what I…”

But Calum didn’t give him a chance to finish, “Second, I just don’t like it, okay?”

“Don’t like what?” Ashton frowned, trying to understand what his friend was talking about.

Calum sighed again. “I don’t like how omegas are… obedient and always ready for my attention just because I’m an alpha,” he confessed.

Ashton tried really hard to suppress his laugh. “Aw, Cal, do you want them to love you for who you really are? How sweet!” he cooed at his friend.

“Fuck you, Ash! Seriously.”

“Come on, dude!” Ashton sighed and said, much more seriously this time. “This is how our world works. You can’t blame them for following their instincts. Especially when you’re so unsuccessful with suppressing yours.”

Calum just shook his head looking from his friend to where that unknown she-wolf was standing. She wasn’t there anymore and that somehow irritated him. Or was he angry because of Ashton not being able to drop that mating topic. He could tell so much to his friend, could spend the whole night explaining. Instead he decided to stand there, inhaling deeper that girl’s tailing away scent. It was a shame she left, thought Calum, walking inside the house to get another drink. And it was a shame she was just an omega.

***

You were spread on the cold sheets, darkness around filled with wonderful noises of two bodies caught up in lust. You were deliciously naked, one arm outstretched and holding on the sheet, another massaging your breast.

The way to Nick’s place was short and filled with heated kisses and half-swallowed moans. You felt the driver’s irritation, but with Nick’s big hand gripping on your hips and ass under your oh so short dress, you couldn’t care less. You didn’t remember how exactly you made it from the taxi to the elevator, though you remembered perfectly well ripping his shirt apart inside of it and sucking on his toned chest while his hand found its way to you panties.

“Fuck, you’re so wet,” he hissed above you, your lips moving up his throat. You knew Nick wasn’t the reason of you dripping, but you wisely kept this information to yourself. After all it was Nick’s finger stroking along your wet folds right now. The clinking of the elevator made him stop and pull you into the hall. He managed to open his apartment’s door without detaching from your lips. And as you both got inside you wasted no time and pulled off your dress, Nick only whistled to your eagerness. But his reaction was muffled with his own moan as you grabbed on his hard member and gently pulled him closer, kissing him once again.

Nick’s hands found they way on your ass and you hissed into his mouth at his squeezing. You started unbuckling his belt, your hands shaking slightly with need.

The moment your back hit the wall he lifted you up, you had to let go of his pants and grab his shoulders not to lose balance. You lifted your legs and crossed them around his waist, his hands never leaving your hips and ass.

“Shit, baby, you’re so damn hot,” Nick whispered and bent a little to kiss your neck. You moved your hips forward, pressed them into his lower abdomen as hard as you could in search for some friction, your motion making him hiss. You knew you were boosting his ego a little too much, but the heat you felt inside didn’t let you any other choice. You needed to feel him there and you didn’t want to wait any longer.

“Can’t wait, can you?” he was whispering between sucking kisses on your collar bones, you could feel his lips stretching in a smirk. “Wanna have my cock inside your little pussy? Want me to fuck you right against the wall?”

Your whole body shivered at his words, the prospect tempting for sure. He could feel your trembling too and thrusted his still clothed member into your pussy. You whined and managed to say, breathing heavily between words, “I want you tongue first.” Nick stopped assaulting your neck and looked you in the eyes, trying to get what you were talking about. “I want you to suck on my pussy and fuck me with your fingers first,” you leaned closer and whispered almost touching his lips with yours and looking him right in the eyes. “I wanna cum on your face and then I wanna be fucked by your dick.”

“You’ve a dirty mouth,” Nick whispered back with an amused expression on his face, “is it as good at work as it is at talking?” “Please me and we’ll see,” you stated and pressed your lips to his again.

Nick pushed you both from the wall and moved to where you supposed his bedroom was. Couple moments later you were proved right as he dropped you on the bed. You liked the roughness of this move, the sudden fall stole the last air from your lungs, cold sheets a pleasant sensation against your heated body. Nick bent over you, pulling your panties down in one rushed move. You arched your back and your bra followed, leaving your body to his admiring.

“Damn, girl,” he whispered, kneeling between your spread legs and kissing on your belly. His hands back again on your hips, piercing you down to the bed. You inhaled at the felling of his hot breath on your skin, ran your hand through his soft hair and pushed down your body where you needed it the most. He chuckled softly at how persistent you were and gave in. The first lick against your dripping pussy left you moaning low. He spread your legs more, one of his hands helping him to open you up. Nick wasn’t the best you’ve had, but he was definitely pretty good. He pressed his tongue to your entrance, teasing a little, and then focused on sucking your clit, your legs were trembling uncontrollably. He smiled at the reaction, your clit carefully squeezed between his teeth. You swallowed a roar, whining through sealed lips, and pulled on his hair, loving the pain mixed with pleasure. He kept sucking on the little bundle of nerves, his fingers back on your pussy, stroking between your lips. You bucked your hips up, pressing your core to his face in a silent begging. Nick chuckled again. “You taste too sweet for such a dirty girl,” he said and licked his lips looking at you panting and dying to feel his fingers again. You groaned at his teasing. “Nick, please,” you moaned, dropping your head back on the pillows. This time he listened, his lips back on your clit. You felt one finger slide into you, the sensation so long anticipated, yet still not enough with how wet you were by now. You needed more and he was so slow in giving it to you. “Ah, more, please, need more,” you whined, pulling on his hair again. He didn’t need to be told twice, as he added another finger.

And then it happened. You closed your eyes, panting feverishly, sinking in the wonderful feeling, and that moment you saw him in your mind. Much broader shoulders pressing your thighs apart, plump lips on your core. You could swear you felt his dark bristlier curls between your fingers. You’ve never had it, never thought about another man being in a bed with one. But now you would happily give everything you’ve had to open your eyes and see that alpha from a party between you legs. You felt your walls clenching around two fingers at a mere idea. Your free hand clenched on your breast, imagination helping you to fantasize of a bigger hand massaging your tits.

“You feeling good, baby?” Nick’s raspy voice brought you back to reality, he felt your pussy trembling.

“Yeah, just don’t stop,” you panted, eyes still closed. “Give me more. I’m close.”

He added the third finger, his frictions getting faster and harder, just as you wanted. You pulled gently at his hair, motioning him to get back to sucking on your pussy. You opened your eyes, your lips wide apart in a silent scream at the sensation. His eyes fixed on your face, satisfaction and lust in them. You blinked and your mind showed you a picture of much brighter eyes, glowing yellow in the dark. And that was enough to send you over the edge. You cried out his name, falling back on the pillows, feeling Nick sucking on you through your orgasm. You closed your eyes shut knowing full well they were glowing they real bright blue color.

The bliss was great, yet too fast gone. And you couldn’t help the thought of much darker tone body in front of you, when Nick, god knows when managed to lose his pants, started lining his dick up to your entrance.

***

To say you’ve had the worst beginning of the week would be definitely an overreacting. You’ve seen worse weeks. Much worse. Yet this one proved to be a hard one and that was enough for you.

You’ve been working a lot, often staying late. Being a new person in the department required to learn a lot of new stuff, even though you weren’t new to the company. Being second to the head of the department at the same time required that learning to be done in a record time. And with the ongoing work it was safe to say your ass was on fire in the most unpleasant meaning.

Nick was also giving you problems with not getting any of your hints. The sex was good and you were really thankful for the night. Though after you left his apartment before the dawn, not sparing his resting body another glance, and ditched all his texts and calls the next two days, you thought he’d get the idea. But on Monday he brought you coffee and asked where you’d disappeared for the whole weekend. He obviously got offended with your lack of response and shoving him off saying you’ve had too much work to waste time on meaningless chatting. That didn’t stop him from sitting with you and couple other people at lunch and giving you puppy eyes. You tried to ignore him, hoping maybe that would give him a clue. As cute as he was, he was just a human. And even though you abandoned pack life long ago, you could never date a human, that much you knew.

And on top of it all you felt like you were going mad. You kept seeing him every time you closed your eyes. Not Nick, of course. The alpha. His yellow eyes were looking at you like from inside your soul. You couldn’t shake his scent out of your system either, always feeling him whenever you left the office or was just walking downtown in search for a good take away. You knew it was only your imagination, you couldn’t really smell him. You haven’t seen him since that party and it was almost impossible to cross paths with him again. The town was smaller than what you were used to, but it wasn’t that small after all. Your instincts were just playing with you, as they were toying with your senses every night, making it hard to go to sleep with all the right reactions to a man who wasn’t even with you at the moment. But every night you were hot and bothered and needy, knowing well no human would be able to satisfy that thirst. Damn omega hormones! This was one of the reasons you left your pack. It wasn’t the main one, god knows your father made it almost impossible for you to stay. But it still was the reason. You hated how your body reacted to every alpha who wasn’t your father or brother. And you hated how it was always happening against your will. Although you had to admit that level of reaction you had never experienced before.

So with the enormous amount of work, pouty coworker you probably shouldn’t have slept with after all and the lack of sleep thanks to your horny omega body, it was no surprise you were ready to kill on Wednesday night. You left your company building at almost midnight after rewriting the same report twice because of the other department workers stupid mistake. The road you left your car at was empty due to the late hour, though working street lamps and tree leaves soughing of a light wind made you feel more than just safe. Until that moment.

You dropped your keys on the ground. Of course you’d do something like that, you thought, rolling your eyes and bending down to pick them up. The wind grew stronger, and the very first blow of it brought the scent. You could have thought it was your imagination again, but it was so much stronger that before, so there could be no mistake. He was near. You almost jumped up, keys in your hand, and looked on your left, where the wind came from.

He was standing there, right in the middle of the road. Broad shoulders, head tilted a little back, true alpha posture. He was wearing simple black jeans and a black tee. His left arm covered in tattoos, tugged in a jeans pocket, and his right was holding a cigarette. He was just standing there looking at you with his bright yellow eyes, not bothering with hiding his true nature. You scanned the street with your wolf senses to make sure no people were there to see him. And immediately you felt the urge to hit your own head with something heavy. That damn alpha was standing there like a damn king of his damn kingdom and you were scanning the street in case nobody sees him? Not even starting with how he had to track you down like a dear on a hunt. A low roar bursted out of you. He narrowed his eyes and took another drag of his cigarette, the moving of his hand the only reaction. He wasn’t trying to come closer or say anything. Just looked at you. Like a true hunter watching his prey. You felt your whole body shiver with anger and fear. No wolf had the right to behave like that to you. He could have been a damn alpha, but you weren’t just some omega to fall to his feet at the mere look of his.

You pressed an alarm button, the car signal sounded like thunder in the silence of a moment, walked around the car and got in. You wasted no time with starting the car and driving away in the opposite direction. You could see him standing on the same spot and looking at you car, could decipit his smirk in a rare view mirror, as he was finishing his cigarette. You turned right and soon drove up a bigger street, rushing past each traffic light to get home.

You were not just angry, you were pissed. What right did he have to behave like this? If he thought you were violating his territory borders, he could have just let you know. Any beta of his could have done it, no need to spare precious alpha time. But what if he wasn’t a local pack’s alpha? A strange thought popped up in your mind. Could he be one of your father’s pure bloods? Could he be sent to find you?

You parked next to your apartment building and looked around before getting out of car. The street was empty, no people or wolves. You covered the distance between your car and the entrance much faster than your dignity would require. You could truly exhale only as you closed your apartment door behind your back. You locked the door, thinking how silly it was. If that alpha would really want to get past this door, no locks would be able to hold him.

But could he really be sent to find you? You crossed the living room and looked out of the window at the sleeping town. No, he couldn’t, you understood. You knew all your father’s wolves, you’d never forget the face like that. And he couldn’t be just a pure blood, he was a pack’s alpha. You knew one when you saw him. And if dragging you all the way back north was his agenda, why would he wait? No, the meeting at the party was accidental and there was no hidden meaning to that.

And yet, why was he waiting for you on the street? Why just stood there and looked?

You took off your shoes and jacket and fell into an armchair. You didn’t bother to turn on the lights when you entered the apartment, feeling more than just comfortable in the darkness. And the moon behind your window was still bright enough. The image of him boldly standing in the middle of a road wasn’t leaving your mind. You were so tired and so confused, emotions overloading you with a strange mixture of anger, anxiety and something else you weren’t ready to name.

You felt your whole body shudder. Adrenaline was leaving your system, but your breathing wasn’t calming down. You felt sweat cover your neck like the temperature rose. But the temperature was the same, you were pretty sure of it. You felt familiar pulling in your lower abdomen and choke on your breath. You couldn’t fucking believe it. The fucker was almost following you and it turned you the fuck on?! You groaned loudly and put your hands on your face. But as you closed your eyes, you saw him again, standing on that street and looking at you so intently. You couldn’t help your moan. You could lie to anyone, but never yourself. You were furious with him and yourself right now. But you wanted him, and that was the simple truth.

You pressed your legs together and felt wetness between them. You huffed and slipped out of your jeans, tagging on your panties too. Your shirt followed suit leaving you just in a camisole. You huffed again and moved your right hand down your stomach. It was crazy how sensitive you already were. You slid your middle finger gently between your folds, your left hand already under your camisole working on your tensed nipple. You closed your eyes and let your imagination do all the work for you.

You moved your fingers to your clit, wondering how good at this he might be. Those plump lips looked so promising, must be a sweet torture to be kissed by him. And imagining this lips kissing on your pussy was exactly what made your clit throb. You moaned, almost feeling his stubble brush against your thighs, and pushed one finger down your dripping hole. You were moving it carefully in and out, not to scratch on the walls with your nails. He wouldn’t have this problem, you thought. The image of him, taking a drag of his cigarette popped up in your memory once again. His fingers were so long and thick, like they were made for working a girl up.

You moaned again as you added one more finger, giving yourself a minute to adjust, your left hand restless on your tits. You started to move your fingers, getting a steady rhythm, picturing that alpha again the way he stood in front of you less than an hour ago. His left arm was covered in tattoos and so deliciously well-built, must be so good to have this arm work on your pussy. But to have his torso underneath you, that would be an experience. With this pictured in your mind, you moved and stood on your knees, your chest against the backrest. You lowered yourself back on two fingers and whined a little at the scratchy feeling. Your left hand was clenching on the armchair fabric, your forehead reated on the backrest. You started to move your hips up and down, imagining how you could ride him. Would he, the big bad alpha, let you ride him? Would he submit to an omega? Just picturing this drove you almost mad. The room was full of your quiet whines and moans and whispered curse words. You kept moving your hips up and down on your fingers, imagining his broad shoulders beneath you, his big hands on your breasts, his eyes on your face. Your breath got sporadic, you were so close, yet couldn’t reach the high.

You moved on your back again and put both legs on the armrests. Your right hand got back where it was a moment ago, while you lowered the left to your clit. You gasped at the feeling. You tried to work both hands in the same rhythm, but you were too far gone for that. The fingers inside your pussy were going as fast as you only could, the left hand drawing circles over your clit. Your legs were trembling and you kept gasping for air, as you were getting higher and higher. The picture of him smirking in your rear view mirror was the last thing you saw before crying out. You could swear the darkness was full of stars as yellow as his eyes. You fucked yourself all the way through your high and when you finally got back to earth you stroke your folds gently several more times.

You swore you’d never came so intense from your own fingers before. But one question was still bothering you. How would it be to actually fuck him?

***

Friday night in a bar could have been a great idea to have fun and make friends with some of your colleagues. Could have been, if you hadn’t been so distracted.

You haven’t seen that big bad alpha since that night. And you couldn’t stop calling him big bad alpha in your mind, which annoyed you to bits. But obviously your subconscious declared a war on you, and there was nothing you could do about that. You haven’t seen him, but you started bumping into wolves everywhere you went. Grocery shop, laundry, cinema parking lot. You’ve even seen one in your company, he was from some other department, you guessed. Most of them were betas, but at least seven were pure bloods. And that information left you uneasy. How big was the pack and how powerful was its leader to have more than three pure bloods under his command?

You frowned into your gin. You couldn’t help but question your moving here. It might be rather dangerous to live near the pack you weren’t a part of. Especially when you weren’t sure about their position on tolerating a lonely wolf around. You could have just transferred back. Of course, your hr would very much dislike it and it would probably look not very nice in your personal record, preventing you from moving up in your career for some time. But choosing between career and possibly your life? Your answer to that question was a little too fast.

You smiled to some nonsensical story about a new client Julia was telling. Didn’t even know what it was about, just everybody around laughed, so you followed their example, too deep in your thoughts to register your own actions.

Leaving was an obvious answer, you thought. But was it so necessary? You tried to remember all the encounters with wolves from the passed week. And what really surprised you, they never spared you another glance. You felt like some of them didn’t notice that you were a wolf at all. Not the purebloods, of course. They smelled you perfectly well and followed you with their eyes, but never said a word and never tried to act in any odd or dangerous way. Weren’t you a little overreacting? Maybe you should have just sat on your ass and let them get used to you? Maybe you’d never need to interact with them as they understood you weren’t dangerous to their pack or interested in becoming it’s part?

You huffed, looking at the melting ice in your empty glass. You glanced around in search for a bar counter and excused yourself. You felt him following you and your frown grew bigger. You didn’t need this talk at all, but especially right now. You had enough time to ask a bartender for a second round when he finally came up to you.

“You seem a little off tonight,” he said, stroking your forearm gently.

You moved a little to look at him while talking and also to get your arm out of his reach. “The week was difficult, Nick.”

“Yeah, i guess,” he muttered as the bartender put a glass in front of you. Nick made a move to reach for his wallet, but you already paid. You saw his frown while taking a drink and suddenly felt irritated. Who did he think he was?

“Listen, I actually wanted to talk to you,” he started and you had to suppress your groan. “I don’t know what I did wrong, I actually thought that night was great. And I’m sorry if I did something out of line, but I just…” he stumbled, and it was a perfect opportunity to stop him here and now. Yet you decided to let them speak. It was always easier that way. If they say it all at the beginning, they’ll argue less with what you could answer with. “I just really like you,” Nick found his courage to continue, “and I’d like to take you on a date. What do you say?”

You sighed, looking him right in the eye.

“I’d say, thank you, but no. I’m sorry, Nick. There’s nothing you’ve done wrong, the night was great. But it was just one night. I thought we were on the same page about this.” You saw his face sink, but didn’t feel anything. He was cute for a human. But dating him? There was no second thinking to that. “I’m not looking for anything serious right now.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Nick nodded, avoiding looking you in the eye. “Sorry to bother,” he dropped and, still not looking at you, went back to where your colleagues were seated.

You shook your head. Going back there seemed like the worst idea now. Maybe you should just stick to the bar counter for some time?

“Not looking for anything serious, huh?”

You felt your blood froze and your knees go weak at the sound of that voice. It was so low yet so powerful, and somehow you felt like you knew it. You could swear you’d never heard it before, but you knew it. His smell enveloped you, making you question how you didn’t feel him earlier. You took another sip of your gin, more to give yourself a second to calm down than because you really wanted it, and turned around.

“Well, I’d say it’s wise if we talk about humans,” he continued, looking in Nick’s direction.

He leaned on the bar counter, the same black jeans and leather jacket, some band tee underneath. A subtle smell of cigarettes, short stubble. You made yourself breath in a steady rhythm and met his eyes, dark brown now, without a trace of yellow glow. He was just looking at you, confidently and with a ghost of a smirk on his plump lips. You were looking back, giving nothing away. He was obviously waiting for some reaction and he was getting none.

He chuckled, “Too much sass for a little omega.”

You couldn’t hold back your scoff. “I am not your omega,” you stated looking him right in the eye, “so it’s not very polite of you to point out my nature.”

He shrugged to that and took a sip of his drink, his eyes not leaving your face.

“So what now,” you asked getting a little bored, “you’re gonna ask me dull questions like what’s my name or where I’m from?”

He chuckled again. “I’ve got enough betas for that. Know everything about you.”

“Everything?” you narrowed your eyes at this bold statement. And he accused you of having too much sass!

“Including how many times you screwed that human,” he nodded.

“Should I be flattered?” you mused, feeling the anger rise inside once again at how arrogant he was in getting into your business. He slightly frowned at your question, not fully understanding where it came from. “Well, a big bad alpha’s interested in who I screw,” you explained with a sigh.

He smirked again and again said nothing. Which pissed you off even more. You weren’t looking for this meeting, he came up to you. He could just say what he wanted and you’d be done with it.

“If your betas have done all the dirty work, why are you here now?” you asked, ready to finish this conversation and flattering yourself with an idea that you’d be able to do it.

He scoffed and looked again at where you colleagues were. You knew Nick probably watched the two of you. You had also no idea why it bothered the alpha.

“Come on,” he said turning back to you and moving closer. Not much, half a step, but enough for you to notice. “You know who I am. I know who you are. And we both know you aren’t looking for anything serious,” he mused, his voice somehow lower and deeper. “How about not wasting time on pointless conversations?”

You almost choked on your breath. All this following you and sending betas to track you down just to fuck you? You wanted to push him away, to tell him to go fuck himself. You wanted just to turn over and leave. Instead you kept standing where he wanted you, pinned down by the power in his eyes. You were so angry at yourself, and only more so, as you felt the knot tie inside your belly. You knew the feeling, you wanted him more than you ever wanted anything in your life.

“And what gives you an impression that I’ll agree?” you asked, still not ready to give in.

“Because I know something else, what no beta could tell me,” he said smiling at you hungrily and bending down to your ear. “That every time you’ve been cuming around your fingers this week, you were thinking about me.”

And you couldn’t hold it anymore. You gasped at how bold, yet how true his words were. You inhaled his scent, his flesh so close to you, you could feel the heat coming of him. Your mind got dizzy with his smell and your legs started to tremble. You lost your concentration for a moment, but that was enough for him, as he bent a little lower and kissed you.

You weren’t sure if you’d ever been kissed like this. He didn’t hesitate at your lips opening them and filling your mouth with his tongue. His hand grabbed your waist and pulled you closer to him. Your arms flew to his biceps, merely to prevent you from falling. He was sucking and biting on you lower lip and then pushing your tongue with his again. You felt your lungs burn, asking for air, but kept your lips on his like your life dependent on it. Because at this moment you were absolutely sure, your life did depend on him.

He stopped kissing you as unexpectedly as started, just letting go of you and smirking at your startled expression. He offered you his hand and looked at you with a question in his much brighter now eyes. You hated yourself for what you were doing. But you couldn’t help it. You took his hand and let him pull you out of that bar.

The air outside was chilly enough for your heated skin. Alpha pulled you down the road to the black Range Rover parked further. You thought he was about to open the car door for you, instead he pressed you to the car and attached his lips to yours once again. This kiss was slower and much more sensual, but his hands on your waist as firm as before. You felt his knee push between your thighs and moved them apart, feeling your skirt roll higher. He pushed his body more into your frame and you sank down a little to feel his thigh under your core. You moaned into his mouth at the feeling, grinding in pursuit of friction. You felt his smile with your lips.

“What is it, omega? Wanna ride my thigh?” he mocked you.

You opened your eyes and looked boldly at him. “Wanna ride your face.”

He only laughed to that, then opened the passenger’s door and shoved you inside. You watched him close your door and walk round the car to his side. You had no idea why you did that, a strange impulse making you act so shamelessly. You arched your back and pushed down you panties, crumpled them and pushed down his glove box. You had a mere second to close it as his door opened and he got inside the car, watching with a smirk as you were wiggling on the cold leather seat.

“Eager much?” he asked.

But you just smiled with your wicked smile as you lifted your body and kissed him with all the lust you had inside. You felt his amusement, his fleeting hesitation. A strange idea emerged in your mind. Was he enjoying your resistance and sass?

“Wanna have that thigh riding session in a backseat?” he asked.

You shook your head and licked your lips. “I’m not fucking you in your car.” With that you took his hand with a car key in it and motioned to the keyhole. You pushed his hand to insert the key and turned it to start the car. The whole movement somehow turning you both on more than it should have. “Drive,” you whispered into his lips before leaning back in your seat.

He didn’t answer. Just rushed his car out of the parking lot and down the street. His eyes were on the road, but all his senses were set on you. It felt like he was touching you without actually touching you. You felt your breath break and at the first traffic light he stopped you grabbed his neck and moved him closer, kissing him deep. His lips were exactly what you imagined them to be, soft, but still rough and greedy. You heard car horns behind, signaling you that it was green again, and laughed shamelessly as he cursed, setting the car in motion again.

But you weren’t in a mood to stop. You moved up on your knees and pressed your lips to his toned neck, your right hand sliding down on his prominent crotch. You started sucking on his skin and palming his dick through his jeans in the same rhythms. He hissed, “Stop or I’ll take you in the car no matter what you say,” he almost roared, his voice echoing in your insides. You smiled to his threat, “Come on, alpha, I’m sure you’ve got some stamina.” Your giggles died out to the sound of his low roar, your hand involuntary squeezed harder on his dick, making him hiss. You knew your eyes were turning blue and soon would glow. God, how could you forget, how much hotter was sex with an actual wolf?

At the next traffic lights he abruptly grabbed on your jaw and moved your head up so he could suck on your neck. You whole body shivered at the feeling of his teeth bite on the sensitive skin and then his tongue lick on the same spot. You started sinking in the feeling and the next moment he just stopped, practically dropping your head. You almost lost your balance, while the fucker continued driving, both his hands on the steering wheel.

You quirked your eyebrow. Was he trying to point out your place? He had no idea who was he messing with, you thought as your right hand slowly pulled down the zipper on his jeans. You shoved down his boxers (black again, did that man wore any other color?) and took his dick in your hand. You had to hold back your moan at the look of it. Long, with prominent veins and drops of precum on the head, it fit so perfectly in your hand. You turned your eyes back to his face in search for the reaction and started pumping him. You’d never been so turned on by a simple hand job on somebody’s dick before, but the next moan breaking out of you, you didn’t hold back. You wanted him to hear, wanted him to know how much you were enjoying his dick in your hand.

The next you couldn't predict, though. The car slowed down again and he looked you in the eyes, hip pupils dark yellow now and glowing. He didn’t say a word, yet you felt his command. That had never happened to you before, even your father had to use his words, so unsubmissive you were. The wolf inside of you had never obeyed to anyone. Until that moment, when under his look you lowered your head and licked on his dick. You huffed at realisation of the power he had over you, as you lowered your hand to lightly scratch his balls, while your tongue was dancing around his dick head.

“Either suck my dick or sit up and keep your hands to yourself,” he said, you heard irritation in his voice. It left you satisfied. You did submit, but at least you got him a little. You grabbed his dick at the bottom and pushed him all the way up your mouth, hollowing your cheeks. You heard him hissing and started moving you head, making sure he reaches the back of your throat every time. You guessed you reached another traffic light, as the car stopped and his hand dropped on your head to set you in a faster pace. Soon you felt him stroke your hair, the car wasn’t moving. You slowed down and felt him pulling your head up.

“I thought you said you aren’t fucking me in the car,” he reminded with the same smirk.

“Not my fault you’re taking so long,” you whispered back, your lips must have glittered with your spit.

He just smiled wider and kissed you again, rushed, but deep. “Get out,” he dropped as he finished the kiss. You fixed your skirt and climbed out from the car, glancing at his frown as he tried to put his, must be painfully hard, dick back into his jeans. You smirked and walked in front of the car to get a look of his house. It wasn’t too big, yet pretty spacious for a lonely alpha. Garage for two cars, terrace at the back. You heard a car door open and shut behind you and then a hand grabbed on your arm, pulling you to the entrance.

He didn’t waste any time pushing you to the wall and pressing his lips to yours. What was it with the men pressing you to the walls, you though. The lights were off, none of you really needing them. His hand went all the way down from your jaw, paying particular attention to your breasts, to the hem of your skirt. He didn’t bother with the zipper, just rolled it up to your waist. And hissed at the feeling of absolutely bare skin of your hips.

“Where did you lose your panties?” he hummed with amusement. He knew you had them at the bar, he felt them when you were grinding on his thigh next to his car.

“Somewhere along the way,” you smirked.

“Aren’t you a dirty little slut, my omega?” he mused and pressed his fingers to your clit. He watched closely at your reactions, your open mouth with broken breath and darkening eyes. He started rubbing circles, using one finger to slide through your folds. You couldn’t bear that slow torture and you bucked your hips up. He just chuckled and without a warning inserted a finger inside you. You whimpered and bent forward, your head rested against his shoulder. His fingers were so much better at it than yours. In no time you felt his second finger and that was it for you. You leaned all your weight at him, your legs shaking too much to hold you up. Every thrust of his fingers drawing a hiss out of you.

You found yourself so close to the edge with his two fingers inside of you and his thumb on your clit. You thrust your hips into his hand to get his fingers deeper, where the desire was burning your insides up. He only chuckled and pulled his fingers out of you. You didn’t even try to protest, knowing full well you were in his power now. He threw you over his shoulder, his right hand on your ass, fingers wet with your juices, stroking and squeezing. You didn’t try to get a glimpse of the house, focusing fully on his hand and the anticipation inside of you. You took it he went up the stairs and then inside his bedroom, apparently, as a minute later he laid you down on the bed. He was surprisingly careful, holding your neck and lowering your head not to hurt you. You frowned at this, not sure where it came from. But the next moment he shrugged out of his jacket and pulled his tee off and you forgot everything. His chest was a perfect combination of toned muscles and soft lines, with tattoos on his collarbones. You bit on your lip, wondering if you’d be able to see that chest below you.

He clasped your hips and pulled you closer to the edge, kneeled down and froze for a moment, just enjoying the view of your dripping pussy. “Do you have any idea how deliciously you smell?” he asked all of a sudden. You looked down at him, but he was still watching your pussy. “Best fucking scent in the world,” he added so quietly, you weren’t sure you heard him correctly, and bent to your core.

You thought you’d die that very moment. How one could feel such bliss and still survive? His tongue was all over you, licking your folds flat and slamming inside right after that. His lips so soft around your clit and so demanding. You lost the moment when your moans turned into cries, maybe it happened when he pushed his fingers back inside you, or maybe when he started curling them inside, making you arch your back and pull on his hair. You were right at the edge when he demanded you look at him. You had to gather all your will, to lift your head up and open your eyes. His lips were glistening and his eyes glowing bright yellow. You saw surprise in them at the color of yours. You smirked, that was the only thing you had strength for before he started sucking on your clit again.

You came like this, looking right at him. Your toes curled and thighs press to his face. You couldn’t help it, you had no control over your body anymore. It felt like it was acting on his command and pure instincts now. You felt him pulling your thighs apart to stand up and realised you eyes were closed again. You looked up to see him pushing down his jeans and boxers.

“Your eyes are blue,” he said. You heard a question in his words. You knew it was rare for your kind, more natural for a pup than a grown up wolf.

“They’ve never changed their color,” you shrugged. There wasn’t much to say about it for you. You felt odd about it when you were little, but then got used to it. It wasn’t your only peculiarity.

You rolled on your side to get an access to your skirt zipper and felt his hands on your hips again. He dragged your skirt down your legs and took your hand to help you sit up. He put his knee down between your legs and bent to kiss you, gently this time. You felt your taste on his lips, a little salty and tart. “They’re beautiful,” he whispered, looking you right in the eye. He freed you off your shirt and bra, and tried to lay you down. You knew what he was doing, but you had a better plan.

“Let me,” you asked, pushing on his chest. He stopped for a moment, not getting what you wanted. But then he saw you standing up, got the idea and fell on his back. “You don’t have to,” he muttered, and you understood that he actually didn’t get the idea. You smirked, thinking how predictable it was, and threw your leg over his waist. You saw amusement in his eyes as you straddled him and took his dick in your hand to line him up.

“So you do wanna ride me,” he chuckled.

You left it without response, too busy sinking down on him. It was too much, he was too much. Too long, too thick, filling you as nobody could feel you. You closed your eyes, your nails digging into the soft skin over his ribs. You heard him groan at the feeling, cursing at how tight you were. You knew you had to take it slow. And so you did. You moved your hips up and sank once again, feeling him going deeper. His hands grabbed on your wrists and almost crushed them. You started rocking in a steady rhythm, his hands move to your waist to help you grind on him.

You felt his gaze on your breasts, them jumping up a little with your every move. He couldn’t just lay like this for long, you knew you were lucky enough to just get on top of him. He pushed himself up and lowered his head, kissing on your neck. You leaned back to give him better access and put your hands on his thighs for the balance. He started sinking his way down your throat to your chest, until he reached your left breast. You lost your rhythm for a moment at the feeling of his lips on your nipple. Your hands flew to his shoulders, his right arm snake around you to keep you up. You started move again and he started to assault your right nipple with his fingers. Your moans got louder again, your moves got sloppy. You felt your high build up and started losing it. He felt it to, letting go of your nipples and pulling your body to his chest. He started thrusting his hips up in you as fast as it was only possible in this position until he felt your teeth sink in his shoulder and your walls clench around his dick. The very moment he pressed your hips to his not letting you move at all. You were whining into his skin, your whole body one big bundle of nerves. Your skin literally burn where he was touching it. You probably lost your senses for a moment or two, as you were positive you opened your eyes, yet you still couldn’t see anything.

“You alright?” he whispered in your ear, you felt like even his breath was burning your skin.

“Yeah, I-” you couldn’t finish. Was there even a word for this? You more felt rather than heard his laugh, his chest shaking so nicely against yours.

“Think you can take one more?” he asked. You felt him still inside of you, hard as ever. He didn’t cum yet.

“Yes, just, not like that,” you could only hope he’d get what you were saying, unable to produce a better answer. You felt his laugh again, and then his “I got you, baby,” as he lifted you up from him and laid you on the bed again, this time on your stomach.

You frowned a little. You couldn’t take another one on your hands and knees for the dear life, your limbs too shaky and weak. You had no time to protest though, as he lifted your ass, making you tuck your knees, and sank into you again. You almost cried at the stretching, different angle making it even more intense. You felt him bend over you, his left arm picking you and lifting you up. He pulled you closer to the headboard, putting his right hand on it for the balance. He leaned you both a little forward for a better position and started moving. You lost your voice in no time. He was going on you at the highest speed, thrusting his hips into you with loud thumps. His left hand was squeezing on your breast, his head rest on your shoulder. You felt his roar burst out from his chest as he was chasing his own release. He dropped his hand to your clit, you had to lean over the headrest at the loss of support.

“Baby talk to me,” he demanded, you gather all the will you had to hear him, “can I cum inside?”

“Yes, fuck, please, yes,” you moaned as his fingers got faster on your clit. You wanted it so much, you both were so fucking close.

He came first with a long low roar. The best sound you’d heard in your entire life. His roar was probably what set you off for the third time this night. He dropped his head on you shoulder again, growling at the feel of your walls clenching around his dick, milking him to the last.

You whimpered as he sank out of you, feeling like you lost much more than just the contact. He picked you up again, making you wonder how he had strength for anything after that, and lowered you both on your sides, pulling covers over you. The last things you felt before falling into darkness were his arms pressing you into his chest and his lips leaving kisses in your hair.

***

The morning was gloomy, sun not risen yet over the horizon. You were sneaking around his bedroom in the gray light picking up your clothes of the floor. You didn’t worry about waking him up. The hardest part was getting out off his clench. When you were free and he didn’t even stir, you knew he was sleeping deep enough for you to leave without trouble. You put on your clothes and grabbed your shoes and turned to look at him one more time.

You could see your bite on his shoulder and smiled. You suddenly realised you didn’t get to know his name last night. And somehow you felt it was right. You were pretty sure that was the last time you saw him so close. And it was okay if he’d stay just a big bad alpha for you. That was exactly how you wanted to remember him.

Taglist: @myloverboyash, @paqueretteash, @bringmethehorizonandpizza

Also tagging some mutuals (IF YOU DON’T WANNA BE TAGGED JUST LMK): @calpops, @i-calumhood, @rip-lukes-balsamic, @angelbabylu, @5saucewho, @singt0mecalum, @5sex-of-summa, @gorgeouslygrace, @reallycalum

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sethshead · 3 years

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The results of the election clearly show that Republicans can compete in high-turnout conditions as much as they can when there are fewer people voting. But they have persuaded themselves that voters are the obstacle and that a smaller electorate is their best path back to power. Or, as Senator Lindsey Graham of South Carolina said just after the election, “If Republicans don’t challenge and change the U.S. election system, there will never be another Republican president elected again.”

[...]

In 2008, record turnout among young people, Black Americans and other underrepresented groups put Barack Obama in the White House. In the wake of that victory, Republicans introduced a host of new voting restrictions. “Following the Tea Party’s triumph in the 2010 elections,” wrote Ari Berman in his chronicle of the post-1960s fight for voting rights, “Give Us the Ballot: The Modern Struggle for Voting Rights in America,” “half the states in the country, nearly all of them under Republican control — from Texas to Wisconsin to Pennsylvania — passed laws making it harder to vote.” These measures — strict photo identification rules, limits on early voting and mass purges of voting rolls — targeted the groups that got Obama across the finish line.

Few Republicans of note came out against this effort. Just the opposite: A cottage industry of voices selling the myth of mass voter fraud to eager listeners emerged on the right. And the president, of course, has used his power and platform to do the same. Years of rhetoric and legislation and propaganda have inculcated both a fervent belief in mass fraud and a particular response to Democratic victories.

Republicans, in other words, have developed a habit — an active disposition ready for overt manifestation — toward restricting the vote when met with electoral setbacks. And this reflex is so powerful that it overwhelms the evidence that Republicans might actually be better off with more low-propensity voters in the electorate.

The big flaw with the 2020 polls was that the infrequent voter samples were weighted too much to Biden. It was not expected how much a truly high-turnout election on both sides would bring out a deeply reactionary, nativist streak. I’ve brought this up before, largely as a retort to radical left assumptions that those votes were latent progressives waiting for the right socialist to come along. No, those votes were latent fascists, turns out. I wish I didn’t have to inform lefty idealists that appealing to the other extreme of the horseshoe never works out well in the end. They are not necessarily driven by a longing for universal economic justice, however legitimate some of their grievances may be.

Likewise, the Republican reaction to this election has not been one of universal voter suppression. In fact, they’re not targeting rural white-dominated counties that, while remaining Republican, shifted much bluer in 2020 compared to 2016. No, Trump & company are focusing their disenfranchisement efforts on urban spaces that were by percentage less overwhelmingly Democratic this time around than last. Oh yeah, because they associate those urban counties with Those People, the Other, on which the white fear of whom GOP campaigns have capitalized for as long as I remember. By and large, black people. This is the endgame of the Southern Strategy. It is not a pragmatic course to achieve narrow electoral goals for Republicans: it is the culmination of a generations-long project to contract the franchise and restore a regime of white supremacy that has been slowly and unsurely rolled back since Civil Rights and the Great Society. They never accepted the legitimacy of black people voting, regardless of party.

That’s what this is about. Period.

#trump #donald j

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missbrightsky · 4 years

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Chasing Tails

Fics Masterlist

Chapter 1: Rhysand

Golden light poured out of the tall sandstone house; a string quartet wove a melody between the rays. Carriages crawled up the long, curving driveway, halting to let their passengers pour out. A rainbow of colors swarmed the front steps, ladies preening in their new gowns made especially for this event, gentlemen sporting crisp waistcoats and towering top hats.

Gems glittered in the ears and on the hems of skirts, lace curved to draw attention to places where eyes should not wander. I lazily took in these details, but it was nothing I hadn’t seen before. Life was slow in Velaris, the only source of amusement was balls and galas, dinners and dances thrown by the town’s gentry. It was a nice, quiet life but tedious. It was only until recently when a new breeze blew through the town, bringing with it an intrigue to delight the masses.

Two months ago, the house that had stood empty for years had finally found a new owner. Miss Feyre Archeron purchased the lonely estate that was a mile out of town. It sat on one hundred acres of good land and had space for twelve tenant families.

For the first month, only workers had bustled around the estate, cleaning up the house and renovating it for its new owner. Anyone who had questioned the workers only received vague answers for who they were working for, only that she was very generous and treated them well. No one could tell if they were hiding a dark secret or if they were extremely loyal. New orders were placed almost every day in the town’s stores and with their craftsmen. Fabric for curtains, linens, and bedspreads. Entire sets of furniture for the dining room, parlor, library, and bedrooms. Groundkeepers to tame the wild gardens and grocers to fill the kitchen.

Tenants were sent ahead and given anything they needed to start their lives there. Velaris was a wealthy town but the new blood breathed fresh life into the economy, and into the gossip wheel.

Finally, the new mistress arrived. And no one saw her. It was like she had appeared from thin air. The only reason anyone knew was because a worker at the tavern had mentioned that she had requested lemon tarts for breakfast one morning.

And that’s when the chaos had begun. Anyone who tried to call on her was politely turned away, citing that their mistress was busy at the moment or not in the house. When another caller returned from a failed attempt to meet the new lady, the citizens took to the streets, searching for a new face in the crowd, hoping that her being out meant that she had come to town.

That had been the first week. The second was when things took a turn for the nasty. Gone were the curious stipulations as to who this new person was and where she was from. Rumor after rumor flew around. Someone’s cousin heard that she was terribly disfigured after a childhood accident and lived as a recluse. Another person’s business partner who just arrived from the big city said that she was hiding from an abusive ex-lover. The workers from the estate came to town less and less, tired of being harassed for new information and the endless questions.

Why was she not receiving callers?

Why hadn’t she reached out to Velaris’s most prominent socialites, inviting them to dinner?

Why? Why? Why? Why.

I had listened to everything mostly passively, only offering my opinion when pressed directly. Mor had cared for a bit but when it was obvious that no new information was being shared, she lost interest and turned to other relevant topics. We were at the height of the trading season; everyone was flush with money from summer crops and business was booming. I could hardly keep my store and warehouse stocked before it was cleared out again. Miss Archeron certainly did not help with the massive influx of orders she needed for her estate. But who am I to complain about good business?

And then an invitation arrived at every household in town announcing a ball at her estate. The gossip wheel spun again, and orders increased tenfold as everyone claimed that this would be the social event of the year. This was the event to see and be seen at as the new mistress would finally introduce herself to polite society.

Cassian shifted across from me, ready to hop out and begin to flirt with whatever lady caught his eye tonight. Azriel was more composed, per usual, the picture of a well-bred gentleman. Mor was to my left, straightening her necklace for the thousandth time.

“Don’t tell me you’re nervous?” I chuckled.

Mor answered with an elbow in my side, “No, why would I be? She’s probably the same breed of airhead as everyone else in this town.”

“Present company excluded of course,” Cassian smirked.

“No,” Mor deadpanned, “Especially present company.” Azriel let a ghost of smile play along his lips while Cas turned ten different shades of red. I was honestly surprised steam didn’t start pouring out of his ears.

Any response he could have snapped at her was cut off as our carriage finally arrived at the front of the line. A footman dressed in a smart red coat opened the door and bowed his head. I exited first, turning to help Mor down, followed by Cassian and Azriel.

There was no time to closely observe the front of the house, there were many more carriages to arrive and the crowd was anxious to sweep everyone indoors.

I led the way up the steps, people shifted out of the way to show their deference. It was ridiculous that so many people in the town feared my family but if it made everyone give them space, then I wasn’t about to change their minds.

Inside was almost as packed as the driveway, I had no idea how everyone would fit inside the household, but if I remembered correctly, this house was quite capable of hosting this town and the one next over.

Chandeliers sparkled, throwing diamonds and rainbows along the ceiling. Rich carpets cushioned every footfall while paintings covered every inch of the walls. Incredible brushwork detailed landscapes and portraits as well as a few abstract scenes. Each work carried a fresh point of view, making the viewer take a different stance on mundane objects.

Normally there was a line where guests could be greeted by the host, but it seemed like there was no such thing at this party.

I filtered through nearby conversations, picking up that everyone was astonished that Miss Archeron was not there to greet them. With a mental shrug, I decided that our best bet would be to find a table to eat and drink until we were sufficiently tipsy enough to start dancing. If I had to go one more dance with Ianthe sober, there was a good chance Mor would be inheriting my entire business.

The others followed me as I found my way to the buffet, taking a small plate and filling it with meats and pastries. Mor opted for all sweets while Cassian and Azriel stuck with the hearty foods. Each of us picked up a flute of champagne and claimed a table that was to the side of the ballroom floor.

Here, tall ceilings arched far over our heads and even larger and grander paintings adorned the walls that didn’t have massive windows. On the far opposite of the hall, there was a balcony that jutted slightly over the floor, partially filled with shadows.

How mysterious, I mused. It seemed that the mistress had a flair for the dramatic.

Cassian noticed it too, “Ten pieces of gold that Miss Archeron will make her first appearance there.”

“Fifteen that she will opt for the grand staircase in the main hall,” Mor countered.

“Twenty that she doesn’t appear at all,” Azriel said.

They looked to me for my bet, “I have to agree on Cassian with this one, it’s too perfectly set up.” Cassian settled for a smug smile while the other two rolled their eyes.

Until she decided to join us, we continued to drink and make small comments about who was in attendance that night. It appeared to be everyone, even the small shop owners that had no large means even got an invitation. Miss Archeron had a generous nature it seemed, even if she wasn’t too sociable.

The string quartet continued in the background playing waltzes and local country dances. Only a few couples milled the dance floor, the main festivities hardly beginning. Waiters circled the crowds, keeping everyone’s glasses filled.

I was beginning to feel a pleasant buzz when sharp nails trailed over my shoulder. Judging by the looks on Mor, Cas and Az’s faces, Ianthe had finally found me.

“Mr. Night, would you do me the honor of dancing with me,” her words passed my ear in a hot breath tinged with alcohol. Mor worked hard to keep a sneer off her face while Cassian was choking down some bread in an attempt to keep from laughing at my misfortune.

I gently laid my napkin down on the table and carefully stood, controlling my urge to turn her down.

“Of course, Miss Prion,” I said, offering my hand. I lead Ianthe to the dance floor, standing opposite of her. I answered her curtsy with a bow, allowing muscle memory to take over my body. She tried to force me closer by digging her nails into my shoulder, but I managed to keep us at a respectable distance as the waltz started up.

We swept around the dance floor, delicately weaving through the steps.

“So, the evasive Miss Archeron has yet to make an appearance,” Ianthe simpered, trying to draw me into conversation.

“It would appear that way,” was all I gave in response. Just because I had dance with her doesn’t mean I have to engage in conversation too.

“It is extremely rude of her to invite us all here and still not deign to show her face,” she prattled on. “Obviously she has money if she can afford all of this but honestly show a little decorum or else no one will accept you into our society, no matter how much money you have.” Ianthe carried on, making small barbs at the invisible hostess, trying to draw a stronger comment out of me but I continued to deflect her.

I released Ianthe for a spin around another couple, limply offering out my hand to receive her again. Only a few more minutes of this torture and then I’ll need a whole bottle of champagne to recover.

“Oh, come now, my party cannot be that unbearable,” a new voice greeted me.

Ianthe now spun away with a different partner while a new woman took her place.

My voice dried up in my throat. Blue-gray eyes sparked with humor; a full mouth curled up in amusement. Her brown hair hinted gold in the gaslighting, piled into an elegant bun. She was soft and warm under my gloves, causing me to instinctively pull her closer, a complete opposite to Ianthe.

“I… ahem, I didn’t mean to say that out loud,” I managed to get out, my cheeks reddening at my mistake of uttering private thoughts aloud.

She laughed, a clear sound that warmed my core more than any alcohol. “That’s what I thought, but tell me honestly, is my party that bad? I tried to make it as current as possible.”

And that’s when it clicked in my head. “You’re Miss Feyre Archeron,” I gaped.

“Last time I checked,” she responded. We were still traveling around the dance floor but it seemed that no one had noticed that the hostess was right in the middle of them.

My manners finally fell into place, “I’m pleased to meet you, Miss Archeron. My name is Rhysand Night.” I bowed my head as much as possible in polite greeting, seeing as we were currently engaged in movement.

“And I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Night,” she returned, laughter lacing her words, amused at my flustered state.

“Shouldn’t you, umm…” Get it together you fool “be greeting your guests?”

“I could be but then I wouldn’t have been able to rescue you from your partner. You looked to be in such pain that I could help but step in.”

“Then I must thank you for that, Miss Prion is not the most… pleasing partner.”

“Then I must aspire to be better,” Feyre said, she straightened her spine even more and relaxed into my grip, causing her steps to become more fluid and graceful.

“So, Mr. Night, you have yet to answer my question about my party.”

“It is everything a modern party should be and more. The food and music are exquisite and the company even more so,” I smiled down at her.

She accepted the compliment with a nod and a blush. “And does the champagne take away the pain of unpleasant partners?”

“I will let you know at the end of the evening.” We both chuckled, it seemed we had both had our share of tedious dancing partners.

“I must say though, this house is beautiful but what really brings it to life are the paintings. You simply must let me know where you acquired so many of such vibrant pieces.”

“That is an easy request, I painted all of them,” she said proudly.

I nearly stumbled with shock but held it together. “You painted everything on this estate?”

“Is that so hard to believe, Mr. Night?” she challenged.

“No! No, of course not, I’m merely astounded by how many there are and the detail of them,” I hastily backtracked, “I did not mean any offense by it.”

She let out another laugh, “None taken, I’ve been painting most of my life, they add up to quite a lot after a while.”

The waltz was wrapping up, final flourishes brought our conversation to an end.

“Thank you for the dance, Mr. Night.”

‘Thank you for saving me, Miss Archeron,” I bowed at the waist to my savior, but when I looked up again, she had vanished. I cast my eyes around the room but Feyre had effectively blended into the crowd and no one had noticed.

For the second time that night, she had left me speechless and mystified. I made my way back to our table where the others were waiting to tease me about having to endure Ianthe, but before I could tell them of my encounter, a murmur washed over the room and all heads turned to the balcony.

Feyre stood in the light of chandeliers and waited for the crowd to quiet.

“Welcome, ladies and gentlemen. Thank you for attending my ball tonight. As some of you may have gathered,” she looked right at me,” I am Feyre Archeron, the new owner of this estate.”

Gasps and gossip broke out over the room, looks of surprise were passed around like glasses of wine.

Cas let out a small hoot, which was thankfully lost in the noise, and said “Pay up! I won the bet!” Mor and Azriel began to dig for his winnings but I intervened.

“Not quite, I just met her on the dance floor, no one wins the pot tonight.”

A collective “what” had them whipping their heads to look at me, disbelief written across their features.

“Bullshit,” Cas hissed.

“The bet said ‘first appearance’, Cassian, and she made her first appearance to dance with me.”

“But no one saw that!” he argued.

“Shhh,” Mor hushed him, “We’ll settle this after she’s done.”

Feyre had waited patiently for the room to calm down again before continuing her speech.

“I apologize for not introducing myself sooner to your society, it has been quite a whirlwind moving here and settling in. I am now more than happy to meet each and every one of you and your families. I hope that you will forgive me for my shyness and welcome me.”

“Furthermore, I have moved to Velaris not only for its charm and beauty, but I have decided it is time for me to take a husband.”

Excitement sparked in my chest, I had spoken to this woman for less than a few minutes but there was already something about her that drew me in and made me excited to verbally spar with her. The looks the other gentlemen in the room were giving each other did little to give me hope, unfortunately. Despite Mor claiming that the town was filled with airheads, there were many fine men for Feyre to pick from.

“However,” she said, the same humor from before creeping into her voice, “I will only marry the man that can open my front door with a key.”

Excitement turned to confusion; more murmurs broke out.

“That key is around the neck of my cat, who will be allowed to roam the town and countryside freely. She is a tabby with blue eyes, I think it will be quite easy to pick her out.

“If she is harmed in any way by anyone attempting to catch her, they will be disqualified from the contest and face my personal wrath.

“Good luck, gentlemen, you will need it,” she finished with a nod of her head and disappeared from the balcony.

I turned back to my friends, all of us dumbfounded by the competition that had just been issued.

“Well,” Cas grinned, “It seems like we need a new bet.”

Next Chapter

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #sjm #sjmaas #sjm books #sjmaas books #feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand

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hellsparadiseessays · 5 years

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Aza Brothers Week - Day 2

To keep celebrating the existence of our beloved bandit brothers, I thought it’d be funny to check some stuff I had written about them back in April/May with the current hindsight we have! It’s an essay in three parts, initially posted on r/Jigokuraku. This essay may also be very useful to those of you who’re waiting for my Criminality essay, btw. More under the cut!

Aza bros, an analysis – Part I : an essay on the traditional family model in Japanese culture, and how society’s expectations impact the siblings

As a disclaimer, three things need to be mentioned. First, thy enter spoiler territory; flee while thy can, new reader! Second, I am not Japanese nor raised in Japan, so my take is solely based on the academic documents I read, what I know and what I understand. If there’s a mistake in my understanding, please, feel free to address it. Third, English is not my native language, so while I’m fluent in it, I don’t promise a 100% quality and may make some grammar mistakes here and there. On this note, let’s start a needlessly academic write up. I hope you’ll deem it an enjoyable or educative read.

Writers tend to find inspiration in reality, and manga authors aren’t dispensed from that. It is visible in Jigokuraku, notably with the Aza siblings, Toma and Chôbe. These two characters, through their backstory, find themselves both in and out of society, influenced by it, yet rejecting it. In this first part of the full analysis of our good brothers, we’ll study the family model that was historically prevalent during the Edo period, the roles of the elder and younger brothers in the family, and what we can infer on the siblings’ respective personality based on those informations.

1. Definition of the Ie family model

Based on the historical references given by the characters, it is possible not only to pinpoint the period during which the story takes place (Edo period), but it is also possible to estimate a general time period based on the references to 47 rônin and the Kaitai Shinshou. Based on these informations, we can roughly establish the time of the story as between late 1710 and early 1730.

This time period generally tends to provide us with prime examples of the Ie family model, which is the family model that follows the Uji model (household/clan) that developed during the Heian period. The Ie model is initially found in the samurai cast, but later spread to the lower cast of Japanese society (merchants, craftsmen and farmers) to organise it according to both a symbolic and corporate perspective through the roles of its members (“Ie and Dôzoku - Family and descent in Japan” by Shimizu Akitoshi, 1987). The Ie model is based on a patriarchal system in which the head of the family has power not only over his wife and children, but over his younger siblings as well. It means, for example, that a younger sister couldn’t marry without her older brother’s consent, and a younger brother couldn’t quit the household without his older brother’s consent either – else it’d be perceived as desertion, which isn’t the best of things in the samurai cast.

A specificity of this family model is the use of titles rather than names (with the appropriate suffix attached to it). These titles serve to put an emphasis on the role of the family member over his or her persona. In “Socialisation for Achievement: Essays on the cultural psychology of the Japanese” (pages 44-45), George A. De Vos explains that titles such as Ototo (“little brother”, how Chôbe calls Toma) are such titles and put it as follows: “there is a sense of security attached to the role in that the individual knows he can maintain himself within the protective armor of his role position”.

The Ie model is seen with the Aza siblings, described in chapter 9 as being the sons of a samurai operating as a vassal to the Lord of Akô. We’ll see how it applies to them in-story, based on what we know of their past and mostly chapter 9, as it is the chapter in which both brothers are introduced along their past.

2. Chôbe and social expectations: a bitter tale

The first thing we learn about Chôbe is how strong he is. Not just physically, but mentally as well. External points of view paints him as a dangerously capable man, able to become the head of a group of bandits despite his youth, able to send a man flying up to six meters with a kick... And his adaptability, as his little brother mentions more than once throughout the manga – because Chôbe isn’t the one doing the talking in their story. “Every single time, he instantly digested goings-on, adapted to them, and in the end came out on top, to conquer it all”, says Toma in chapter 9. And it’s true, the narration showed us how resourceful Chôbe is – borderline crazy at times, even (as per chapter 30, it’s a human arm Chôbe, please stahp).

Then we get Chôbe’s direct point of view in chapters 9 and 49, and it tells us so much more about him, in more than one way. The thing that struck me most is the way we get his own flashbacks. It’s not explained, it’s showed with a handful of panels.What can we take from that? Well, the obvious would be how action-oriented he is, a show, don’t tell type of person. The less obvious would be the lack of actual words relating to his past. Both times, the flashbacks immediately lead to an extremely negative reaction, Chôbe is furious and let us know by going on a rampage. Even worse, it’s words that trigger his fury, words such as “murder is a sin” that sound way too much like “the crimes of a lord are the crimes of his vassals, his sins their sins” (chapter 9). Even worse, as of chapter 49, we see that the simple thought of samurai is enough to have him completely lose his mind out of sheer anger (“It’s making me mad. Eyesore. In my way. Kill.”), to the point he accidentally hurt his own beloved brother. These flashbacks allow us an interesting reading of Chôbe: he is strong, but still clearly damaged by what happened to him, to the point it becomes one of his Berserk Buttons and the one on the receiving hand doesn’t get out of it unscathered. To the point he still doesn’t put many words on it. To the point he rejects society’s rules and gleefully becomes what society claimed he was during his childhood, because this very society let him and his family down, indirectly led to his parents’ death, got him and his little brother in a terrible situation despite their innocence. This failing is also the reason why he despises his father so much: dad fought for revenge, sure, but still followed the rules in place and failed to stay alive afterwards. With everything we know, of course Chôbe will see him as a fool with no ambition, as opposed to himself, his survival instinct and adaptability. Why would he even act like the proper son of a samurai, when it only leads to a lot of trouble?

Funnily enough, there’s still a bit of society’s rules left in his behaviour, and it’s visible in the way the dynamic with his brother is shown.

3. Toma: the younger brother must follow

We had quick shots of Toma early in the story, but he’s been truly introduced in chapter 9, in a truly interesting manner. The very first thing we see is his skill with the blade and the praises he receives, a prodigy who rose in the ranks of the apprentices in only a month, a feat never seen before. Yet, his first thought sounds like a philosophy of life: “The meaning of strength... Is change”. As soon as he shares this thought with the reader, we’re lead to the actual goal: getting his brother out of jail by infiltrating the Asaemon. Immediately, Toma proceeds to share more of his thought on change: “and what is ‘change’? Change is shifting one’s outward form as the situation demands”. Well, it does seem to be precisely what he did with his successful infiltration and is shown having a nice little chat with Chôbe as he keeps explaining his definition of change, because Toma is quite the chatty one. “It’s the speedy comprehension, and acceptance, of the situation at hand. Even if there may be times that are awfully difficult to understand...” At this point, we’re switching from the flashback in prison to the current situation our brothers are in, which involves a group of Soshin as the welcoming committee on the island. At this point, Toma stutters and seems at loss, while Chôbe is asking a practical question regarding the creatures they are facing, before immediately taking action. And here, Toma’s monologue suddenly focuses on Chôbe: “he always instantly takes it in, that is what makes my brother strong”. But is it really a sudden focus? Wasn’t it all about Chôbe from the start, even though it felt like Toma sharing his personal view on life rather than the way he perceives his brother? These pages, which are only the start of chapter 9, already tell us a lot about Toma: his brother comes first, and Toma himself takes a step back even when he accomplishes spectacular feats all by himself: he does it all for the sake of his brother, his own will doesn’t matter as much.

And this admiration and respect he has for his brother is further justified with yet another flashback, during which Toma keeps telling us how skilled Chôbe is at adapting and dealing with all the misfortunes they had to face since childhood. Condemned for the mistakes of their lord? Toma is shaken and seems too young to fully understand the situation, Chôbe doesn’t show any specific emotion. Their mother passes away due to illness? Toma cries, like any kid losing their mother would, but Chôbe remains fairly composed. Same story with the execution of their father, the brothers being reduced to begging on the side of the road and getting caught by a group of bandits. Again, Toma keeps expressing his admiration towards his brother and his adaptability, how it keeps helping him come out on top. And everytime, Toma puts himself as the one who follows big brother, because big brother is the best and always knows what to do. Because if he can’t follow with the change, he becomes unnecessary to his brother. After all, Chôbe himself told him so, back when they were living with the bandits: “Quit yer cryin’, Toma! If you show weakness like that, you’re only begging to die! If you don’t know what’s right or wrong, then just believe in me! I’m your big bro, and a big bro is his little brother’s guidepost, I’m always right! Always and everytime!”

Funnily enough, as soon as Toma reminisces those words, we’re back to present again with Chôbe stating his new awesome revised plan: taking the elixir of life for themselves. He grins as he utters thee words, and right at the next panel, Toma shows us the exact same grin as he agrees yet expresses his thought concerning the difficulties they may encounter as they keep going, and how it may get worse the longer they stay on the island.

4. Orderly outsiders

Based on what has already been said about the Ie family model typical of the Edo period and especially prevalent in samurai families, as well as what has been inferred about the Aza brothers based on the informations given to us by chapters 9 and 49, we can draw some conclusion about the way they perceive themselves, their past, each other, and how their rejection of the social order that abandoned them despite their innocence doesn’t stop them from following certain social codes – the very codes that make them a real family according to the rules of society.

First thing first, their self-awareness. It seems Chôbe is better at it than Toma, as he knows what he can do and what he can improve, while Toma consistently put himself in the background, even when he could legitimately pat himself on the back a bit. Second, Toma seems to be better at putting words on their past than Chôbe. Way better at it, even, since he pushes the reflection as far as justifying his brother’s strength by the way he handled everything until now. Chôbe, on the other hand, barely puts any words on the few memories we see – memories we probably wouldn’t be able to comprehend without Toma’s point of view and explanations -, and the little words he expresses about it immediately lead to rage and brutality, the physical expression of a pain that runs deep and seems to never be properly addressed. This is where things become interesting: by becoming the big brother and the unofficial head of the family through unfortunate circumstances, Chôbe clearly seems to have repressed his own feelings in order to take the lead and move forward. Toma perceives himself as the little brother who must follow, as is the role of the proper little brother in the Ie family model. This perception goes as far as Toma describing himself as merely an extension of his brother, and not his own person. And it’s sad, really sad, because we’ve seen what Toma is capable of on his own, we’ve seen how much trust Chôbe himself puts in him. Which is why I think both of them being separated as of chapter 50 can lead to a lot of good for Toma, who’ll have to rely solely on himself and so will have to change his perception of himself. Considering his abilities, I personally believe it can only lead to a positive outcome for him [ETA: bless be chapter 54 IT’S HAPPENING I’m so proud of you Toma]. As for Chôbe, the situation may be more difficult for him – and no, I’m not just talking about his encounter with Rien. Accidentally injuring his brother is the one thing that made him get a hold of himself again in chapter 49 and 50, and generally speaking, he does what he does for the sake of protecting his little brother – he even sacrificed his right eye as a kid for his sake. In my opinion, Toma acts like the hoops that keep Chôbe together. Remove the hoops, and things may go horribly wrong. However, I do trust his survival instinct to be strong enough for him to figure a way out. I just hope he won’t lose it again, because this time it may be difficult for him to get control of the situation again.

And with that, I conclude the first part, which is longer than expected! However, I wanted to explain various things that’ll be mentioned in the next part, so we’re all clear. The next part should also be shorter, since it’ll be less focused on canon information and more of an opinion-based (and less academic) piece according to what we know for now. Again, I hope you found this write up enjoyable or informative. I certainly did enjoy working on it, and it led to my newfound appreciation of Toma. Please, love this guy, he deserves it.

Sources

Ie and Dôzoku - Family and Descent in Japan

Socialization for Achievement: Essays on the Cultural Psychology of the Japanese

#jigokuraku #hell's paradise #chôbe #tôma #essay #my stuff

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onestowatch · 4 years

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Allan Rayman Pokes Fun at the Paradoxical in “6am” Film [Q&A]

In its truest form, life is shamelessly ironic. Regardless of whether one takes a pessimistic or optimistic attitude toward this truth, the nature of humanity is riddled with inconsistencies. Yet, it is these very inconsistencies that create space for change or better yet, growth.

In the past, we have dubbed Allan Rayman as “the most mysterious man in music,” partly because until recently having a dialogue with Rayman seemed nearly impossible. An introvert by nature and one that resents the innate self-indulgence of the entertainment industry, Rayman’s initial intent wasn’t necessarily to gain the cult following he’s amassed today. Yet, a chronological listen through of his catalog, starting with Hotel Allan, through to Roadhouse 01, Courtney, and finishing with Harry Hard-On, one quickly realizes his addictive appeal.

I mean that quite literally. The intricacies of the Allan Rayman story are as thought-provoking as they are treacherously enticing. Call it human tendency to lean toward the darker side of life, or perhaps it’s our cultural surroundings, manifesting for us hardships that are inevitable in the world’s current condition.

Regardless of who or what is to blame, the Allan Rayman story, though personal to him, shares a sort of universal narrative of struggle and triumph, with the ongoing pendulum swings that fill up the in-between. But just as pain is married to the human condition, so is change. As ironic as society’s dependence on stability is for its function, remaining personally static is arguably one of the greatest injustices we can serve to ourselves in this life.

I can’t speak toward the reasoning behind Rayman changing his approach from years past, but a shift is certainly present and he isn’t ignoring the paradoxical properties present in his own life, rather he’s laughing at them. Hence the release of “6am,” the second single from his upcoming album CHRISTIAN, and its visual companion directed by Rayman himself. Shot deep in Joshua Tree and featuring two Raymans, the visual represents the contrast and irony that is present in this particular part of this unfurling story.

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We had the special and long-awaited opportunity of catching up with Rayman, on everything from the creation and narratives present on CHRISTIAN to his personal struggles of achieving balance and those precarious swings of the pendulum.

Ones To Watch: How were you first introduced to music? Were either of your parents musical?

Allan Rayman: Through my brothers. My mom’s an artist and my father is a vacuum cleaner salesman.

You grew up in the small town of Lost Springs, Wyoming, later moving to Toronto. What were the pros and cons of growing up in a rural town?

It was great. Lots of space to run around, any kid’s dream. Cons were moving from a small town to a big town. Different mentalities, different personalities in a big town. Kind of made for a challenging childhood. A lot of cool kids in Toronto.

Your discography, starting with Hotel Allan then moving on to Roadhouse 01, Courtney, and Harry Hard-On follows a narrative, both introspective and outward-looking, with different recurring characters and shorts interwoven throughout. Is the "Allan Rayman Story” entirely yours? What is fact and what is fiction? What elements are universal?

It’s my story. So yes, it’s entirely mine. What is fact and what is fiction is often blurred. I think that goes across anybody’s life, even just in reality. How we look back on our own memories can sometimes be fictionalized more than we’d like to admit. We champion things or we elaborate on things to make them more interesting. That’s the universality of it, we’re in our own heads. We expand a little bit on the truth to make it more universal because we think that things are so personal and we are so special and so unique but we’re all very much alike at the end of the day.

You've championed lyricism and an ongoing narrative as a focus when creating your previous albums. What inspired this conceptual style of writing? Are there any literary or philosophical inspirations that have led you on this path?

Yes, 100% there are. I mean, I’m specifically a songwriter in the sense of lyrics and melody. That’s just for me. I just care about words. I’m a word guy. I like Hemingway for that reason, in the sense of being concise and right to the point. Don’t beat around the bush just be straight up. Less is more. You don’t need to dress things up, just say it how it is.

Your lyrics often explore the struggle of maintaining a balance between music and your personal life. Has this gotten easier with time and as you’ve explored things artistically? Do you believe this will be a lifelong struggle?

No, it will only and ever get harder with time as this thing goes forward. It would get easier if I stopped doing music and could be a real person again. That would be easier. I don’t imagine it will ever get easier to do, to balance music and real life. If you’re a successful artist on your way to more success it will only get harder and hard, which should make for some really good music.

Throughout the albums, you've consistently paired your music with incredible visual companions. How involved are you in the curation of these films? Why do you think it is important for you to have a strong visual component to telling your story?

I’m extremely involved. It’s important to me because film comes first. I’m a film nut before music head, you know what I mean. I like film more than music. It’s a lot of fun for me to get hands-on and come up with ideas for short films and music videos and then to have someone like Steph help me bring them to life is extremely important. You need to find someone who knows how to take what's in your head and help bring it to life.

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Speaking of… can you share some insight on the inspiration behind your newest film and single “6am?”

In short, it’s making fun of myself for opening up to doing certain things that might seem like “selling out.” It's the crazy me stalking the me who is doing a car commercial for money. Using your success for money. While also blatantly saying I’m insane, ya know, I’m losing my mind. It’s showing the world the duality that you have to be crazy to be doing this but people also take you serious enough to put you in a car commercial… and pay you for it.

You mentioned that Hotel Allan, Roadhouse 01, and Harry Hard-On were written with one other in mind, in order to stay true to the overarching narrative. Does CHRISTIAN continue these storylines?

Yes, it does.

How have you as Allan Rayman and your alter ego, Mr. Roadhouse progressed as human beings? Is the pendulum swing between the two mindsets still prevalent in your life today?

Yes. No.

For CHRISTIAN, you’ve been working heavily with producer Alex da Kid. How has his involvement changed the project sonically?

I’d like to add that I still very much work with Moose and the producers who’ve helped me from the jump. But yeah, with Alex I think it's more picking each other's brains. Someone whose very established in the industry and successful and someone who's just getting their toes wet with it. I think it’s a cool contrast. He’s stepped into my world and that’s what I’ve been looking for, I was looking for a producer who would step into my world and get weird and help me get back to some of the hip-hop elements that I loved so much in Hotel Allan.

As a natural introvert, how did you develop your live set? Is performing live a painful experience for you or is it freeing?

There is a certain aspect of performing that has to come to you naturally. If you are uncomfortable at all up there they’re gonna know. And if you’re being someone that isn’t true to yourself then they’re gonna know. That all comes under the umbrella of being natural. It needs to be second nature to you.

Who are your Ones To Watch?

A painter by the name of Stephen Dray.

Be on the lookout for CHRISTIAN, due for release come 2020, but in the meantime, watch Allan Rayman perform “Tennessee” below.

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#Allan Rayman #6am #CHRISTIAN #alternative #r&b #soul #interview #allan #rayman

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emmydeg · 4 years

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How have Society’s Views on Body Images Changed over the Years?

(Before I get into it, this is an essay I wrote for my college class surrounding the effects of social media. For my project, I decided to talk about something that has affected me in the past. Personally, social media has changed the way I view my own and other’s bodies. I used to compare myself to everyone I saw, but over time, I have learned that media can make everyone’s life look like a dream. I am very happy with my body, and I know that social media helped me a lot along the way of self-acceptance. This essay is very long (8 pages on Google Docs!) but I believe my research to be very interesting, and I hope you do too. TW for mentions of eating disorders.)

Body images have been affecting women around the world since 3,500 years ago. Women tried to perfect their image for the time period they lived, whether it be the image focusing on large, fertile women during Prehistoric times, the curved hips of the later 1900s, or the dangerously skinny body the 21st century now depends on. In modern society, there is nothing that matters more to young adolescent girls than their body image. Citizens see the ideal sizes in ads in public transportation, Barbie dolls, and in social media. The archetypal body has been attempted by many women. Many turn to eating disorders such as anorexia nervosa or bulimia to achieve this ideal schema. Society is beginning to realize that all sizes are beautiful and women shouldn’t feel pressured to fit into these standards. Over the past hundred years, society’s views on women’s bodies have shifted from favoring those who have bigger bone structures to having dangerously low BMIs. These unrealistic expectations have led to many girls struggling to find peace with their body, and have made society fail to see its beauty.

Since Ancient Egypt, women have attempted to obtain the ideal body images of their times. Although their ideal image is drastically different from what humans today strive towards, the notion of struggling to fit in with society stayed the same. Before the 1900s, the concept of body images was easily demonstrated in the artwork from the past, such as in the Prehistoric times, for example. Cichon-Hollander analyzed the Venus of Willendorf, a famous sculpture dug up by Joseph Szombathy. In this artwork, he saw a rather plump-looking woman. The woman had a round stomach, was disproportionate, and had an emphasis on her reproductive organs. Hollander also examined Egyptian artwork that portrayed a new fashion sense and body image that wasn’t seen before in Egypt. These women wore dresses and jewelry to accentuate their petite bodies. Ancient Greece put a large emphasis on a proportionate and symmetrical body. This ideal beauty was based on the mathematical basis of the parts adding up equally to the whole (Cichon-Hollander). In the Late Middle Ages, women were once again bearing large stomachs that almost made it look like every woman at the time was pregnant. Even though they had big stomachs, the rest of their bodies remained slim. The rest of the women had petite legs and a slim, curved figure (Cichon-Hollander). Many of these ideas stray from the expectations of women’s bodies today. While the Prehistoric times preferred larger women, we now see bigger women and make fun of and pity them. In Ancient Egypt, most of the women also had their heads shaved. Today, most women have long, healthy hair, as being bald is seen as too masculine to many people. Ancient Greece’s ideals have greatly influenced what we admire today. We enjoy looking at those with symmetrical faces and bodies, just like the Greeks did. We believe those with asymmetrical bodies look awkward and uncomfortable. The Late Middle Ages emphasized women with large stomachs, and now we have fitness programs and unique diets to receive a flat stomach. Even though all of these beauty standards are unique to their culture and time period, they all still were ideals that women would struggle to meet. The need to fit in outranks many women’s attempts to be satisfied in their own bodies, even over three thousand years ago.

After the 1900s, women focused heavily on slim bodies and having the perfect shape. In the 1910s, women had a figure-eight body with a cinched corset. Ideal women were known as Golden Girls and were tall, regal, and mysterious. When the next time period came along, it called for fewer curves and more legs. The switch from the 1910s’ tall, mysterious girl to the flappers of the Roaring Twenties examined extreme weight loss and the dependence on corsets. Flappers were constantly in motion in their shiny small dresses. During this time, the Miss America pageant was made, and Margaret Gorman was crowned the first Miss America in 1921 (Hart). The Thirties called for the return of the waist and the fashion was tailored to accentuate their new curves. However, it still kept the skinniness in the stomach and legs. The later 1900s’ were when women really began to have negative feelings towards their bodies. Models and superstars’ skinny yet still curvy bodies were emulated by the women in America. The 1950s’ hourglass look called for curvy and rounded figures while keeping a skinny stomach. Most women would take supplements to fill out their curves. Marilyn Monroe was the woman most girls strived to become (Martin). She flaunted her curvy yet petite body to citizens. Throughout the Sixties, women considered thin back in. These girls were doll-faced, slender, and petite. Models like Twiggy showed women their beauty and made them envious. Around this time, girls and women alike began to hate their bodies more than ever before; feeling ugly because they didn’t have the exact body shape of their favorite models. Models in the 1980s’ felt the pressure of the beauty industry to preserve their body image in any way they could. Between 1960 and 1980, there were decreases in model’s weight and hip size, and an increase in their height, waist size, and bust size in Miss America pageants and Playboy centerfolds (Swami). Models from their specific time period felt the effects of society’s pressure to have the best body. In an article that examines the changes in body image through the 1900s’, Maria Hart found that most of the decades held something in common: toned legs and stomachs. The 21st century still values these things in society today. The history of idealized body images continues to repeat itself.

These unrealistic expectations for the perfect body image have been influenced heavily by our society and are extremely harmful to those determined to follow it. Citizens are introduced to striking bodily expectations everywhere you look and can be determined even by children. Young girls are introduced to impractical body images through the use of Barbies and other dolls. Picture the stereotypical Barbie doll; she has long legs, white teeth, a flat stomach, and curves in all the right places. Barbies were one of the first American dolls modeled with the teenage fashion, making the dolls a large visual attraction (Martin). As young children play with these dolls, they begin to see the idealized body image they believe they will have once they grow up. However, many of these kids will be devastated when their stomach isn’t as flat as their friends or their teeth grew back in crooked and now need braces. As these same girls grow to be adolescents, they will begin looking for new things to do, like watching television shows displaying the perfect body, and examining their favorite pop stars and models on the cover of magazines. Teenage girls reading fashion magazines are introduced to mass media’s perception of the body. Those that look up to models are also exposed to slim bodies and symmetrical faces that they may try to achieve. Americans are also able to look at models on their TV sets now, watching them attend large, extravagant parties while wearing a pair of $10,000 shoes. Streaming TV has been associated with dissatisfaction in body image for many Americans (Martin). Teenagers are going through a lot of bodily changes, which makes it hard for most of them to accept their bodies for how they are. Social media is the biggest source of adolescents examining body images. They look at photoshopped photos without realizing it’s not actually how their role models look. Some apps give people the ability to alter how they look by whitening their teeth and taking away blemishes. This gives teen unrealistic views from the people they’re following and will make them have self-doubt. What they don’t realize is that the person may have put on loads of makeup and editing tools to achieve their look (Makwana). Women obsess over getting enough likes or views on their social media platform, stating it makes them feel pretty, liked, and validated. Young girls, in particular, admit to feeling as if they lived through social media and not their real life. The results of being introduced to negative body images can greatly impact a woman’s confidence and optimism.

The perfect body is not achievable for most body types, which leads these expectations to be very harmful to society. There are many statistics that show terrifying results of young girls failing to see the beauty in themselves and their peers. Dove, a company that makes beauty and hair care, made a survey about body image in young girls and women. Their results came in and shocked many people. 42% of girls in first through third grade want to become skinnier, 81% of girls aged 10 are scared of becoming fat, and 2% of women of all ages would describe themselves as beautiful (Martin). It had been known that most girls have a negative view of their own bodies, but many failed to realize how early on girls began to start obsessing about their bodies. In a different survey by the Girl Scouts, 66% of girls were actively trying to lose weight, 33% had distorted views of their bodies, and 59% of girls are not satisfied with their bodies (Martin). Other surveys all state around the general lines that young girls already have an image in their head on what their body should look like, and how it differs from the one they have now. These ideas of how the body should look can lead to women turning to diets, working out, and other, much unhealthier methods to achieve their perfect body. Eating disorders are very common among women trying to achieve their idealized body image, especially models. Over the years, Miss America’s BMI has decreased over the years getting all the way to an astonishing 16.9. Many of the contestants had dangerously low BMIs that put their health at risk. The average body mass index for the average person is between 18.5 and 25.0. For women, the average is between 21.3 and 22.1 (Martin). 2008 Miss America winner Kirsten Haglund had a BMI of 16.29, which is severely low for a woman of her age. Haglund stated she was a recovering anorexic and used it to her advantage. She began using her platform to speak out on the dangers of eating disorders and how to help those who may be struggling. Haglund wasn’t the only person in the modeling industry to realize the dangers of maintaining the small body image; a fashion show in Madrid felt the effects of the harsh realities of keeping a slim body when many young models died from these expectations. In 2006, the fashion week in Spain banned models who looked dangerously skinny to try and preserve their health. The ban came after the model Luisel Ramos died of a heart attack right before stepping on the catwalk. Her body mass index was a startling 14.5. A little while after the death of Ramos, 21-year-old Ana Carolina Reston died with a BMI of 13.4 (Martin). Models in Madrid are now required to be examined by a doctor and will not be allowed to model in fashion week if they have a BMI lower than 18. Those thinking about joining the modeling industry should examine not only how their body feels, but also how their minds feel. Having a thigh gap is not nearly as important as being in good health, but society makes women pick and choose which one they will have. Unfortunately, most pick looking skinny. To try and avoid negative body images from the beginning, parents should try and take more time to examine the content they give their children to make sure they are getting a representation of not only the perfect body image, but of all body types in between. Parents should also look out for their children obsessing over what they eat and urge them to maintain a healthy lifestyle. If there is someone who seems to be struggling with their body image, people should try and help them in any way possible. This doesn’t mean they have to be the one to talk to them; they could turn to a trusted adult, like a parent or teacher. If that isn’t enough, the professional help of a psychologist or doctor may be for the best. By helping those in need, citizens make it known that they can and will all struggle together as a society, just as they will also bring each other up as a society.

The ideal body image of today is nothing like the one we earlier examined of the Prehistoric times, just like how today’s bodies may be nothing like those in a hundred years, or a thousand years. What will stay the same is women’s determination to maintain that body to fit in with their society. Unless someone takes the first stand and becomes confident with not fitting in the conformities our society holds, nothing will ever change. When women begin to embrace their bodies, they will be able to bring about great change. Already today there are women spreading the word on eating disorders and other mental health issues. Imagine what could happen if models weren’t just skinny if ads depicted larger women if people raised each other up instead of watching everyone fall. America has made drastic improvements, but who knows if it will be enough for future daughters and their daughters to love their bodies. If a person feels confident in their body, their body image is the one to envy; the image of someone who loves themselves and the skin they’re in.

Works Cited

Cichon-Hollander, G.W. “The European Ideal Beauty of the Human Body in Art.” Art History Archive, http://www.arthistoryarchive.com/arthistory/european/European-Ideal-Beauty- of-the-Human-Body-in-Art.html. Accessed 20 May 2019.

Hart, Maria. “See How Much the ‘Perfect’ Female Body Has Changed in 100 Years (It’s Crazy).” Greatist, 15 January 2015, https://greatist.com/grow/100-years-womens-body- image. Accessed 15 May 2019.

Makwana et al. “Magazine Issue 1 2018/Issue 35.” The Inquisitive Mind, http://www.in-mind. org/article/selfie-esteem-the-relationship-between-body-dissatisfaction-and-social-media-in-adolescent?gclid=CjwKCAjw8e7mBRBsEiwAPVxxiO4oDiD9acCaInp4RJHmglfodOjJIIM1HDmz6I0z02FUwu0es-1a_RoCOpQQAvD_B. Accessed 16 May 2019.

Martin, Jeanne B. “The Developmental of Ideal Body Image Perceptions in the United States.” Semantics Scholar, https://pdfs.semanticscholar.org/9baf/87fa41962e3454b6365c 2900f9202fb896ae.pdf. Accessed 17 May 2019.

Swami, Viren. “Women’s Idealised Bodies Have Changed Dramatically Over Time-But Are Standards Becoming More Unattainable?” The Conversation, https://theconversation. com/womens-idealised-bodies-have-changed-dramatically-over-time-but-are-standards-becoming-more-unattainable-64936. Accessed 15 May 2019.

#body image #self love #tw ed mention #essay #social media #archetypal body images

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