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wherewhereare · 14 days

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Orange County Native Gwen Stefani Goes Back To Her Roots

By Allison Mitchell | April 17, 2024 | People Lifestyle Style & Beauty Feature Features Celebrity Art Style Style & Beauty Feature Culture Featured Lifestyle Feature Style & Beauty Culture Feature Awards Events Women of Influence Latest Entertainment People Feature Music style and beauty The Latest

Whether you know Gwen Stefani as the rock goddess fronting the legendary band No Doubt—who reunited in April for the first time in nine years at Coachella—or as the red-lipped solo artist mentoring others as a judge on NBC’s The Voice, there is no doubt Stefani has made her mark in the music world and beyond. In spring 2022, she launched GXVE Beauty exclusively at Sephora, and the year prior, she tied the knot with fellow Voice coach Blake Shelton, with whom she’s collaborated on numerous hit country songs. But despite her soaring success—see her three Grammys—Stefani is still just a girl from Anaheim, the hometown she’s never stopped professing her love for and the birthplace of the band that started it all. Here, as Stefani prepares to headline the 15th anniversary CHOC Gala at the City National Grove of Anaheim, the multitalented artist is discussing her Orange County roots and why giving back is essential to her life’s mission.

We’re excited to see you perform at the CHOC Gala on May 18. Why does CHOC’s mission resonate with you? My heart has always been drawn to CHOC, and through the years, I’ve been blessed to work with them. They do incredible work providing care and support to children and families, ensuring children have access to the best care and resources regardless of their circumstances. CHOC has always been close to my heart, and I feel so grateful to be able to continue to support them.

This year, you were part of the inaugural class of inductees in the new Orange County Hall of Fame. What does the honor mean to you? It’s one of those things that is bigger than a dream, as I never knew it was a possibility. Orange County is where my dreams were born and nurtured, and it has shaped my life. Orange County really built me as a person and defined me as somebody who felt pride in our city and in the different neighborhoods. Anaheim is my roots; it’s always been with me. I’ve been able to share it with the world through my songs and through my style, and I’ve always had so much pride and gratitude for where I’ve come from.

No Doubt got its start in Anaheim in the mid-1980s. How have your O.C. roots influenced you in No Doubt and your solo career? Growing up in Orange County has had a profound impact on my life and career. My O.C. roots have shaped my identity and my artistry in countless ways. It influenced us because of the lifestyle we had in the O.C. We turned to music to fill our days, and it was what we did in our lives.

Why was now the right time to return to the stage with your No Doubt bandmates, Tom Dumont, Tony Kanal and Adrian Young? I think it was something that was always going to happen as if it was always meant to be in 2024. It came together fast, and we all just thought, ‘This feels right, let’s do it.’

Tragic Kingdom will turn 30 in 2025—what are the tracks that you still can’t get enough of when it comes to performing live? Performing live feels incredible, especially when you’re playing songs that have reached so many people, like those from Tragic Kingdom. It’s unbelievably hard to digest it, doing songs like ‘Don’t Speak’ and ‘Just a Girl.’ When I wrote ‘Just a Girl,’ it came from a place of simplicity and innocence, expressing my truth at the time, never thinking anyone would hear it and never imagining it would have such enduring relevance. I used to wonder if I would outgrow the song, but it still feels like it’s lyrically relevant today. It’s amazing to see how the songs from this album continue to connect after all these years.

What are your earliest memories of falling in love with music in O.C.? My very first memories are of going to bluegrass festivals with my parents. My parents were big music lovers. Even at my grandparents’ house, I listened to The Andrews Sisters and was introduced to The Sound of Music and Annie soundtracks. I can remember listening to Shaun Cassidy in third grade, and from there, my older brother brought home a Madness record, which was underground music that wasn’t popular. Once we found that, we thought doing this type of music was what was going to sort of define us. It was that age when you were trying to find yourself and trying to find an identity, and we identified with this fun, quirky music from London. We felt like we discovered something we could wrap our arms around and make our own. We were kids and this inspired us to be in a band.

Can we expect new music? Yes, of course! I’ve been working on new music for a while. The longer you do this, you realize that it’s not so much about the end game; it’s really about the process. Being in the studio, creating music, is therapeutic, and it feels like I’m living my purpose. It’s starting to get to the point where I can see the finish line of this chapter and at the point where I’m ready to share it. Then, I want to move on to more music.

Who are you currently listening to? Lately, I’ve been listening to Linda Ronstadt. I love to listen to ’70s soft rock playlists, as well as songs from my childhood. I guess they call it yacht rock.

You’re also a successful fashion designer, and 2022 marked the launch of your cosmetics line. What products are staples for you from GXVE? I love every GXVE Beauty product, but I really love our mascara. It’s super volumizing, and the formula doesn’t flake or smudge. My latest launches are our Dewyplump Collagen Lip Gels and Cheek Tints, which I debuted at Coachella. I spent a lot of time developing these products to make sure they could perform in any setting, from the stage to everyday life. The Dewyplump Collagen Lip Gels and Cheek Tints have beautifully buildable pigments that pair really well with lipsticks and powder blushes; [they’re] melty and hydrating without feeling sticky.

You continue to elevate the fashion game—if you could swap closets with anyone, who would it be? Rihanna. At each point in her life, including becoming a mother and throughout her career, she always has incredible style that reflects both her and her artistry.

You’ve lived many lives in your career. When did you first feel like you ‘made it’? There was a particular show where I was performing with a band member, Alan Meade. We usually sang harmonies together, but on that night, he couldn’t make it to the show. So, I ended up performing solo. It was just me. I remember feeling an inner sense of ease onstage that night. It felt so right, so easy, as if I had discovered my gift. Even though I hadn’t achieved commercial success yet, that night made me feel like I had found myself and what I was good at. I will never forget walking into the parking lot after the show and feeling [like], ‘This is me.’

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sezja · 1 year

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Hello o/

For your free time. Remember to always rest <3

Excuse me but more doubts about Sanaii:

Favorite hairstyles?

Most hated job?

Places she dislikes?

Any friends or other relationships? Who she trusts more? Anyone she goes to if she needs it?

What does she feels and thinks about her dads?

Cold weather or warm weather?

Is she too burdened by the Warrior of Light title?

Does she enjoys helping people?

Questline that most suits her (I’m thinking about class/job ones but you can choose another)?

Does she has favorite npc? Any type of thoughts or feelings about this canon character from admiration, respect, love of any kind, anything.

Favorite glamour set?

Any item she always has with herself?

Religious or not?

I will come back but enough for now :D

Favorite hairstyles: She likes to keep her hair long, but ties it back out of her face so it doesn't get in the way - she likes ponytails, buns, and other up-dos. It's a real shame the hairbuns... do what they do on miqo'te, because otherwise I think she'd love them.

Most hated job: She's tried and failed to get a handle on DoM jobs - for role quest purposes she's going to pick up RDM and SGE, neither of which she's particularly fond of. She likes X'rhun and Arya (she and Arya are great friends and maintain a steady correspondence), though, so she keeps making her best effort at RDM... even if the magical aspects baffle her and she'd rather just practice her swordsmanship.

Places she dislikes: Nowhere, really! She finds something to love everywhere she goes. It's part of why she decided to follow in Zephyr's footsteps and become an adventurer. If anything, Garlemald is grim and depressing so she hates going there - but she's very fond of Jullus, and she hopes to see something beautiful grow where the Empire fell.

Friends or other relationships: There's Arya, as mentioned above; they're pen pals. She also bonds with Alphinaud and Alisaie, finding it far easier to talk to them than anyone else in the Scions - especially Alisaie, who understands her frustration with politics and keeping up appearances. Sanaii tends to talk to Alisaie if she just needs to vent about something. They'll go talk it out over sweets, and if that doesn't work, they'll go fight something until the frustration's gone.

How does she feel about her dads: She loves them all dearly. She doesn't talk about them much, keeping them well away from the public eye and associating them with her as little as possible - she knows she has enemies, and those who would use her family against her if they could. She tries not to tell them too much about what she's up to after the events of ARR and 2.x, not wanting them to worry. They try, then, to follow her story as best they can by following gossip and news.

She knows, of course, that they aren't her blood family, but her first clear memory is of R'azit hauling her out from beneath the burning remains of a house, and R'enze cutting a path to safety. They will always be her fathers, as far as she's concerned.

She's particularly soft on Zephyr, who can't fight much on his own (he's an archer, but his skills lie more in hunting than on the battlefield; as an adventurer he has always relied more on his skills outside of combat). It's from Zephyr she's learned how to navigate social situations - and frankly, he's the only reason she can negotiate with the leaders of nations without embarrassing herself.

Cold weather or warm weather: She'd rather be warm than cold, but she'd rather be cold than hot.

The Warrior of Light title: At first, she thinks it's kind of fun, being a Warrior of Light like in the stories - she's proud of it, and likes to hear herself referred to in such a lofty way... but in time, as the weight of the title really starts to sink in, she finds herself quietly hating it as it consumes the rest of her identity. It is a burden, and one she can't set aside; it starts to feel like a leash, and the whole world has a grip on it. She alternates between being angry at Hydaelyn for choosing her, and anger at herself for not wanting that burden, which someone has to carry. She learns to carry the title - and its weight - with a little more grace over time.

Does she enjoy helping people: Yes! Very much so. It was what appealed to her about Zephyr's particular style of adventuring - stopping to help anyone who had need of an adventurer's aid, whatever it might be. No matter how big or small the task. No matter how grand or how meager the reward. He taught her that the purpose of an adventurer isn't just to see the world, but to leave it a better place than you found it, even if it's just improving one person's day in some small way. She doesn't always seem like the type, but she does love helping out, and feeling helpful.

Questline that most suits her: I can't remember the names of any of the NPCs involved off the top of my head, but the questline in Shadowbringers, in Lakeland, where you're sort of helping a hume girl follow in the footsteps of her father, a healer? That one.

Favorite NPC: Oh man, it's hard to say if she has a favorite. I don't presently romantically ship her with anyone, so the possibilities are endless here - she can find something to love in most people.

I feel like she's very partial to Jehantel, seeing something in his gentle melancholy that pulls at her. I'm not sure she'd have agreed to go along with Sanson and Guydelot after their bickering at the start, if Jehantel hadn't asked it of her. (She warms to them, of course, but neither of them really put their best foot forward, and she's very grumpy about being asked to go along with them - and they're not thrilled at the prospect of a sullen teenager attending their quest, either.)

Favorite glamour sets: I don't know yet! She likes comfy, pretty things. I still need to get a feel for her sense of style.

Items she carries with herself: She secretly still carries the fox plush she carried with her when her dads rescued her; it's buried deep in her pack. She only pulls it out when she needs extra comforting.

Religious or not: Mildly. Agnostic, mostly. As R'azit puts it, "I only speak to the gods when I'm angry at them." She believes there's a force that controls the world and its fate, but she's not sure it's the Twelve. She's quiet about that, though.

Obviously, she knows Hydaelyn exists, but sees Her as more of a partner than a god.

#lefox sanaii #thank you as always <3 <3 <3

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ranboo5 · 1 year

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CRanboo Aspects thoughts in rough descending order of how much I think they work

Rage: This is mine of choice. Good for leaning into the politics angle (why it is mine of choice). Ghosting potential, because Ranboo loves copium. Honestly a huge fan of this one. Literally the anarchy and judginess aspect. Treason aspect. Mean bitch aspect. Yelling at you. Got rid of the voice. Can share with Techno for Syndicate moments. Add a Wilbur who is a Hope player and you have the best Ho16

Heart: Floral's of choice. Ideal for the identity and reconciliation angle (which is why it is hers of choice). Fragmentation, selfhood, introspection, "what am I," all around 20/10, excellent times. Add the End and Beloved stuff to this (love, identity) and you have something truly maddenibg

Void: Saw this once and it went CRAZY. Good for the infosec angle. Memory stuff. Welp clap. Lying to you. He wouldn't break a promise. Pair with a Light Wilbur or Quackity for thermite explosion. Love him so much only reason I didn't go for this one is the peerpressure of it all with Rage

Life: This one could be pretty good he DOES love to thrive and I think it's smth u could definitely lean into the busybody angle with like Ranboo wants to live so bad and they want you to live too and they CAN be pushy and condescending and they ARE compassionate and giving and well I'll just cry. This is also the differently toned peerpressure choice actually. All Ranboo and Techno do is give. I'm crying now

Mind: DOING! THE RIGHT! THING! His methodical approach to stuff his scruples and concerns... the choice trees also, and the concepts he has of justice and priorities of trying 2 be an arbiter of fairness both consciously and not... choice and agency and destiny.... honestly while it's not my first choice I would ADORE seeing a Mindbound Ranboo it could srsly highlight some deeply underrated aspects. Might actually be the most comprehensive, thinking on it

Blood: WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH obligation and bloodline and homesickness and consequences this was supposed to be my redemption everything with the End you can do that like with the Heart thing but with more of an emphasis on his place in the world and the ties he has and prioritizes and the people he cares about and the things he can't escape LIKEEEE he absolutely struggles with obligation what if I wept. The leadership angle is kinda meh but honestly the connections on other facets of this r so good that can be forgiven. And besides particles

Breath: Prince of Breath Ranboo (ESP with a Bloodbound Dream) 364 dead 744683 injured alliumduo nation declares national period of mourning. This is how alliumduo should make me feel. Make this now

Doom: Doomed are those and compliance are SO strong actually. I was doubting for a bit but then I thought abt it and this actually owns. It would need a good class to make it work but I think it could... I would kiiiiind of lean for Life ghosting Doom (or maybe have him ghost Doom as Rage in my AU. Could parallel Tbbo. Much illness to think about). The subversion and acceptance both of fate is interesting... then again maybe just keeping it as is in my AU where he is killed by a Doom player (Sam) is better

Light: Sophie brought this up once and it's lovely. Assignment and creation of meaning... Light and information and meaning... luck and consequences... man I see the vision I'd rlly go for Void over it I think but again the vision is 10/10

Hope: Another one where I'd really go for the inverse I think and not just 'cause it's my first choice. Ranboo's interactions with the concepts of Hope r decidedly Rage-driven; all his copium &such and attempts at preservation r functionally pragmatic coping mechanisms to maintain an agenda primarily about what is. While smth can definitely b done with the whole dreaming a better world into existence thing I just don't think Ranboo's interactions w the concept are usually that rosy. It does have hopes but it also very, very much knows where it exists, and both its ability to persist to a better tomorrow and its drive to get there for better and worse do not come from its hopes and creativity but from its ability to survive and understanding of what is there

Space and Time: I have less to say abt these honestly because a) I'm tired and b) honestly it's less like Hope where it doesn't Quite Make The Mark and more like . I mean it's just kind of not the flavor of persistence he exhibits... Space is kind of out for the same reason as Hope (it doesn't really create as much tbh and the aspects of wait-and-see and nurturing fit better with Doom/ghosting it/Rage as mentioned and with Life respectively) but a little more boring, and Time is out because Ranboo's a bit like . More nimble in that sense than is stated almost. Ranboo is not trapped in his circumstance in that sense yk ? And also both of these r out because while he IS the main character he is not like . Neither narratively nor in universe is he for the kind of job a Space or Time player embodies in the session. Unrelatedly Tubbo and Tommy are a Space and a Time player respectively

#three dont look #This is the invisible demons btw. I think I've only ever seen cRanb classpected as Light Void Heart and Rage #Maybe a mention of Mind once

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bao3bei4 · 3 years

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fan language: the victorian imaginary and cnovel fandom

there’s this pinterest image i’ve seen circulating a lot in the past year i’ve been on fandom social media. it’s a drawn infographic of a, i guess, asian-looking woman holding a fan in different places relative to her face to show what the graphic helpfully calls “the language of the fan.”

people like sharing it. they like thinking about what nefarious ancient chinese hanky code shenanigans their favorite fan-toting character might get up to⁠—accidentally or on purpose. and what’s the problem with that?

the problem is that fan language isn’t chinese. it’s victorian. and even then, it’s not really quite victorian at all.

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fans served a primarily utilitarian purpose throughout chinese history. of course, most of the surviving fans we see⁠—and the types of fans we tend to care about⁠—are closer to art pieces. but realistically speaking, the majority of fans were made of cheaper material for more mundane purposes. in china, just like all around the world, people fanned themselves. it got hot!

so here’s a big tipoff. it would be very difficult to use a fan if you had an elaborate language centered around fanning yourself.

you might argue that fine, everyday working people didn’t have a fan language. but wealthy people might have had one. the problem we encounter here is that fans weren’t really gendered. (caveat here that certain types of fans were more popular with women. however, those tended to be the round silk fans, ones that bear no resemblance to the folding fans in the graphic). no disrespect to the gnc old man fuckers in the crowd, but this language isn’t quite masc enough for a tool that someone’s dad might regularly use.

folding fans, we know, reached europe in the 17th century and gained immense popularity in the 18th. it was there that fans began to take on a gendered quality. ariel beaujot describes in their 2012 victorian fashion accessories how middle class women, in the midst of a top shortage, found themselves clutching fans in hopes of securing a husband.

she quotes an article from the illustrated london news, suggesting “women ‘not only’ used fans to ‘move the air and cool themselves but also to express their sentiments.’” general wisdom was that the movement of the fan was sufficiently expressive that it augmented a woman’s displays of emotion. and of course, the more english audiences became aware that it might do so, the more they might use their fans purposefully in that way.

notice, however, that this is no more codified than body language in general is. it turns out that “the language of the fan” was actually created by fan manufacturers at the turn of the 20th century⁠—hundreds of years after their arrival⁠ in europe—to sell more fans. i’m not even kidding right now. the story goes that it was louis duvelleroy of the maison duvelleroy who decided to include pamphlets on the language with each fan sold.

interestingly enough, beaujot suggests that it didn’t really matter what each particular fan sign meant. gentlemen could tell when they were being flirted with. as it happens, meaningful eye contact and a light flutter near the face may be a lingua franca.

so it seems then, the language of the fan is merely part of this victorian imaginary we collectively have today, which in turn itself was itself captivated by china.

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victorian references come up perhaps unexpectedly often in cnovel fandom, most often with regards to modesty.

it’s a bit of an awkward reference considering that chinese traditional fashion⁠—and the ambiguous time periods in which these novels are set⁠—far predate victorian england. it is even more awkward considering that victoria and her covered ankles did um. imperialize china.

but nonetheless, it is common. and to make a point about how ubiquitous it is, here is a link to the twitter search for “sqq victorian.” sqq is the fandom abbreviation for shen qingqiu, the main character of the scum villain’s self-saving system, by the way.

this is an awful lot of results for a search involving a chinese man who spends the entire novel in either real modern-day china or fantasy ancient china. that’s all i’m going to say on the matter, without referencing any specific tweet.

i think people are aware of the anachronism. and i think they don’t mind. even the most cursory research reveals that fan language is european and a revisionist fantasy. wikipedia can tell us this⁠—i checked!

but it doesn’t matter to me whether people are trying to make an internally consistent canon compliant claim, or whether they’re just free associating between fan facts they know. it is, instead, more interesting to me that people consistently refer to this particular bit of history. and that’s what i want to talk about today⁠—the relationship of fandom today to this two hundred odd year span of time in england (roughly stuart to victorian times) and england in that time period to its contemporaneous china.

things will slip a little here. victorian has expanded in timeframe, if only because random guys posting online do not care overly much for respect for the intricacies of british history. china has expanded in geographic location, if only because the english of the time themselves conflated china with all of asia.

in addition, note that i am critiquing a certain perspective on the topic. this is why i write about fan as white here⁠—not because all fans are white⁠—but because the tendencies i’m examining have a clear historical antecedent in whiteness that shapes how white fans encounter these novels.

i’m sure some fans of color participate in these practices. however i don’t really care about that. they are not its main perpetrators nor its main beneficiaries. so personally i am minding my own business on that front.

it’s instead important to me to illuminate the linkage between white as subject and chinese as object in history and in the present that i do argue that fannish products today are built upon.

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it’s not radical, or even new at all, for white audiences to consume⁠—or create their own versions of⁠—chinese art en masse. in many ways the white creators who appear to owe their whole style and aesthetic to their asian peers in turn are just the new chinoiserie.

this is not to say that white people can’t create asian-inspired art. but rather, i am asking you to sit with the discomfort that you may not like the artistic company you keep in the broader view of history, and to consider together what is to be done about that.

now, when i say the new chinoiserie, i first want to establish what the original one is. chinoiserie was a european artistic movement that appeared coincident with the rise in popularity of folding fans that i described above. this is not by coincidence; the european demand for asian imports and the eventual production of lookalikes is the movement itself. so: when we talk about fans, when we talk about china (porcelain), when we talk about tea in england⁠—we are talking about the legacy of chinoiserie.

there are a couple things i want to note here. while english people as a whole had a very tenuous knowledge of what china might be, their appetites for chinoiserie were roughly coincident with national relations with china. as the relationship between england and china moved from trade to out-and-out wars, chinoiserie declined in popularity until china had been safely subjugated once more by the end of the 19th century.

the second thing i want to note on the subject that contrary to what one might think at first, the appeal of chinoiserie was not that it was foreign. eugenia zuroski’s 2013 taste for china examines 18th century english literature and its descriptions of the according material culture with the lens that chinese imports might be formative to english identity, rather than antithetical to it.

beyond that bare thesis, i think it’s also worthwhile to extend her insight that material objects become animated by the literary viewpoints on them. this is true, both in a limited general sense as well as in the sense that english thinkers of the time self-consciously articulated this viewpoint. consider the quote from the illustrated london news above⁠—your fan, that object, says something about you. and not only that, but the objects you surround yourself with ought to.

it’s a bit circular, the idea that written material says that you should allow written material to shape your understanding of physical objects. but it’s both 1) what happened, and 2) integral, i think, to integrating a fannish perspective into the topic.

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japanning is the name for the popular imitative lacquering that english craftspeople developed in domestic response to the demand for lacquerware imports. in the eighteenth century, japanning became an artform especially suited for young women. manuals were published on the subject, urging young women to learn how to paint furniture and other surfaces, encouraging them to rework the designs provided in the text.

it was considered a beneficial activity for them; zuroski describes how it was “associated with commerce and connoisseurship, practical skill and aesthetic judgment.” a skillful japanner, rather than simply obscuring what lay underneath the lacquer, displayed their superior judgment in how they chose to arrange these new canonical figures and effects in a tasteful way to bring out the best qualities of them.

zuroski quotes the first english-language manual on the subject, written in 1688, which explains how japanning allows one to:

alter and correct, take out a piece from one, add a fragment to the next, and make an entire garment compleat in all its parts, though tis wrought out of never so many disagreeing patterns.

this language evokes a very different, very modern practice. it is this english reworking of an asian artform that i think the parallels are most obvious.

white people, through their artistic investment in chinese material objects and aesthetics, integrated them into their own subjectivity. these practices came to say something about the people who participated in them, in a way that had little to do with the country itself. their relationship changed from being a “consumer” of chinese objects to becoming the proprietor of these new aesthetic signifiers.

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i want to talk about this through a few pairs of tensions on the subject that i think characterize common attitudes then and now.

first, consider the relationship between the self and the other: the chinese object as something that is very familiar to you, speaking to something about your own self vs. the chinese object as something that is fundamentally different from you and unknowable to you.

consider: [insert character name] is just like me. he would no doubt like the same things i like, consume the same cultural products. we are the same in some meaningful way vs. the fast standard fic disclaimer that “i tried my best when writing this fic, but i’m a english-speaking westerner, and i’m just writing this for fun so...... [excuses and alterations the person has chosen to make in this light],” going hand-in-hand with a preoccupation with authenticity or even overreliance on the unpaid labor of chinese friends and acquaintances.

consider: hugh honour when he quotes a man from the 1640s claiming “chinoiserie of this even more hybrid kind had become so far removed from genuine Chinese tradition that it was exported from India to China as a novelty to the Chinese themselves”

these tensions coexist, and look how they have been resolved.

second, consider what we vest in objects themselves: beaujot explains how the fan became a sexualized, coquettish object in the hands of a british woman, but was used to great effect in gilbert and sullivan’s 1885 mikado to demonstrate the docility of asian women.

consider: these characters became expressions of your sexual desires and fetishes, even as their 5’10 actors themselves are emasculated.

what is liberating for one necessitates the subjugation and fetishization of the other.

third, consider reactions to the practice: enjoyment of chinese objects as a sign of your cosmopolitan palate vs “so what’s the hype about those ancient chinese gays” pop culture explainers that addressed the unconvinced mainstream.

consider: zuroski describes how both english consumers purchased china in droves, and contemporary publications reported on them. how:

It was in the pages of these papers that the growing popularity of Chinese things in the early eighteenth century acquired the reputation of a “craze”; they portrayed china fanatics as flawed, fragile, and unreliable characters, and frequently cast chinoiserie itself in the same light.

referenda on fannish behavior serve as referenda on the objects of their devotion, and vice versa. as the difference between identity and fetish collapses, they come to be treated as one and the same by not just participants but their observers.

at what point does mxtx fic cease to be chinese?

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finally, it seems readily apparent that attitudes towards chinese objects may in fact have something to do with attitudes about china as a country. i do not want to suggest that these literary concerns are primarily motivated and begot by forces entirely divorced from the real mechanics of power.

here, i want to bring in edward said, and his 1993 culture and imperialism. there, he explains how power and legitimacy go hand in hand. one is direct, and one is purely cultural. he originally wrote this in response to the outsize impact that british novelists have had in the maintenance of empire and throughout decolonization. literature, he argues, gives rise to powerful narratives that constrain our ability to think outside of them.

there’s a little bit of an inversion at play here. these are chinese novels, actually. but they’re being transformed by white narratives and artists. and just as i think the form of the novel is important to said’s critique, i think there’s something to be said about the form that fic takes and how it legitimates itself.

bound up in fandom is the idea that you have a right to create and transform as you please. it is a nice idea, but it is one that is directed towards a certain kind of asymmetry. that is, one where the author has all the power. this is the narrative we hear a lot in the history of fandom⁠—litigious authors and plucky fans, fanspaces always under attack from corporate sanitization.

meanwhile, said builds upon raymond schwab’s narrative of cultural exchange between european writers and cultural products outside the imperial core. said explains that fundamental to these two great borrowings (from greek classics and, in the so-called “oriental renaissance” of the late 18th, early 19th centuries from “india, china, japan, persia, and islam”) is asymmetry.

he had argued prior, in orientalism, that any “cultural exchange” between “partners conscious of inequality” always results in the suffering of the people. and here, he describes how “texts by dead people were read, appreciated, and appropriated” without the presence of any actual living people in that tradition.

i will not understate that there is a certain economic dynamic complicating this particular fannish asymmetry. mxtx has profited materially from the success of her works, most fans will not. also secondly, mxtx is um. not dead. LMAO.

but first, the international dynamic of extraction that said described is still present. i do not want to get overly into white attitudes towards china in this post, because i am already thoroughly derailed, but i do believe that they structure how white cnovel fandom encounters this texts.

at any rate, any profit she receives is overwhelmingly due to her domestic popularity, not her international popularity. (i say this because many of her international fans have never given her a cent. in fact, most of them have no real way to.) and moreover, as we talk about the structure of english-language fandom, what does it mean to create chinese cultural products without chinese people?

as white people take ownership over their versions of stories, do we lose something? what narratives about engagement with cnovels might exist outside of the form of classic fandom?

i think a lot of people get the relationship between ideas (the superstructure) and production (the base) confused. oftentimes they will lob in response to criticism, that look! this fic, this fandom, these people are so niche, and so underrepresented in mainstream culture, that their effects are marginal. i am not arguing that anyone’s cql fic causes imperialism. (unless you’re really annoying. then it’s anyone’s game)

i’m instead arguing something a little bit different. i think, given similar inputs, you tend to get similar outputs. i think we live in the world that imperialism built, and we have clear historical predecessors in terms of white appetites for creating, consuming, and transforming chinese objects.

we have already seen, in the case of the fan language meme that began this post, that sometimes we even prefer this white chinoiserie. after all, isn’t it beautiful, too?

i want to bring discomfort to this topic. i want to reject the paradigm of white subject and chinese object; in fact, here in this essay, i have tried to reverse it.

if you are taken aback by the comparisons i make here, how can you make meaningful changes to your fannish practice to address it?

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

some concluding thoughts on the matter, because i don’t like being misunderstood!

i am not claiming white fans cannot create fanworks of cnovels or be inspired by asian art or artists. this essay is meant to elaborate on the historical connection between victorian england and cnovel characters and fandom that others have already popularized.

i don’t think people who make victorian jokes are inherently bad or racist. i am encouraging people to think about why we might make them and/or share them

the connections here are meant to be more provocative than strictly literal. (e.g. i don’t literally think writing fanfic is a 1-1 descendant of japanning). these connections are instead meant to 1) make visible the baggage that fans of color often approach fandom with and 2) recontextualize and defamiliarize fannish practice for the purposes of honest critique

please don’t turn this post into being about other different kinds of discourse, or into something that only one “kind” of fan does. please take my words at face value and consider them in good faith. i would really appreciate that.

please feel free to ask me to clarify any statements or supply more in-depth sources :)

#x #-__- another fandom essay sorry

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rrivlet · 2 years

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So of course, capitalism and fascism go hand-in-hand, we know this. There’s a point that’s made about the Red Scare that goes along the lines of “all the things that scare them about communism are really authoritarianism/fascism,” which is really true, I think, or at least it is more or less. The thing is though, this seems to imply that we could have non-authoritarian capitalism, which. . . Well, no, we can’t.

Nationalism, fascism, authoritarianism, and capitalism all have one thing in common: Oligarchy. In other words, it is their goal to have all political and economic power in the hands of one group of people. It’s the same destination with a different road, maybe from a different direction. In the end, they all work through private ownership, which can only be attained if you are a member of a privileged group or have ties to such.

Communism, socialism, etc. all work on the principal of public access to resources. Everything (or at least many things) must be shared for the good of all. Public interest over private interest.

Most examples of “failed communism” I can think of off the top of my head (and that are commonly used to refute communism) have not been “actual” communism by definition, though there is much debate to be had as systems of governance are complex and nuanced.

Still, most instances of communist nations (eg. soviet russia, maoist china) involved a highly centralized seat of power. One person, or even a small group of people, still hold the power to make decisions over what resources go to whom. Private property was masked as public property through guise of ration or control to show that everyone “got their share.” This is a rough explanation, and there have been examples of communist governments that differ, but the point is that most “bad communism” fails because of authoritarianism. They’re antithetical, and the theory of communism is, as it’s root word would suggest, about community.

Capitalism is the opposite in that it strives for rugged individualism and privatization. Fascism also strives for this, mainly as a means to concentrate its power. Does this mean that fascism and capitalism are inseparable? Not necessarily, but it is difficult. Fascism controls by utter force, while capitalism controls more by access to resources. American capitalism is a fun blend of fascism and nationalism that results in our police force, racial discrimination, etc. Japanese capitalism is more simply nationalistic, as non-Japanese people (and even mixed Japanese people) are discriminated against and don’t have equal access.

A kind of capitalism that is free of nationalism and fascism is hard to imagine because fascism and nationalism tend to be the determiners of who gets the capitol in the first place. Theoretically, capitalism without either of those would be up to the luck of the draw, but even in that scenario we still end up with an almost identical issue. One group gets lucky, and that group tends to stay lucky, which will breed it’s own sort of fascism and/or nationalism.

All of this to say that the issue with capitalism is not, in fact, money or labor or anything of the sort. The issue with it is that its ideals are so damned intertwined with fascism’s ideals that capitalism will eventually lead to fascism whether it was there to start or not. It all leads to homogeneity, and if you aren’t part of the privileged few, something is wrong with you.

This is why communism HAS to learn as it goes. If the essence of communism is community, then it has to suit each individual community. Even further, every community has to consider its impact on other communities. If we assume that what works for us will work for anyone, we risk becoming the privileged few that all others must conform to.

#post of the tributary

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violetrainbow412-blog · 3 years

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Makeup [S.B]

Sirius Black x plus size!reader

Word count: 1.8k

Warnings: a toxic relationship history and a bit of insecurity because of it.

A/N: I did a questionnaire a few days ago to see what kind of reader you would like me to do. This is the first one I do base on that questionnaire and I want to say the following:

The only reason the reader is specified as "plus size!reader" is that if there is someone who fits this description, feel comfortable.

You will never see something like "her FAT body" NO, NEVER

Much less that the One shot revolves around their weight (neither nationality, nor gender identity, nor sexuality nor all the things that they put in that questionnaire). I only write about NORMAL people in normal situations. All bodies are beautiful, we are all beautiful.

So, if you are a plus size person, welcome. If you are not, you can also read it without feeling left out in any way.

I really hope that you feel comfortable with everything I write and that you know that I seek to be as inclusive as possible. Without more to say, thanks for taking the time to read my stuff. Tell me your opinion, if you want!💕

You looked in the mirror one last time.

Sirius, the boy of your dreams, had asked you out on a date and you wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.

You had met him because you both lived on the same floor of the condo block and it was inevitable to bump into him from time to time. It wasn't the best place to live, it was small and a little dirty, but it was the only thing you could afford and the fastest you could find after that happened.

You liked the way Sirius smelled because when he crossed the corridors, you could perceive a mixture of leather (you supposed it was due to all the clothes he used of this material) and an elegant cologne that drove you crazy.

At first, it scared you a little to see him with that piercing in his eyebrow and his multiple tattoos, but later you realized that he was really nobody to be afraid of, on the contrary, he turned out to be a very tender and sweet boy.

The first time you spoke to him it was because you were struggling to open your door while carrying boxes and bags that you had brought from the supermarket. The boy noticed you were having trouble and walked up to you to offer his help, so (still a bit wary) you said yes.

Once he held your purchases, you could open the lock, but when you turned around, you noticed that Sirius was secretly looking at the contents of your bags and when he realized that you had caught him, he blushed.

"Sorry I'm a little gossipy," he said shyly "I'm Sirius"

"I thought you were a gossip"

"No, my name is Sirius" he laughed and it was your turn to blush.

"Oh, sorry"

"Okay, anyone can get confused" he murmured with his charming smile, handing you what he was holding in his hands "I live in the 512" he informed you. Of course, you knew he lived in that apartment; you had seen him come into its thousands of times "In case you need anything. You know, some plumbing or things that have to do with tools and that shit of men" he murmured kindly. You frowned a little and then he quickly added "I mean, it's not that girls can't do that and it's okay if you know how to do those things, you seem like a smart and capable person. It's just that sometimes it's tedious and requires strength... and it's not that you don't have strength, I mean...” Sirius couldn't continue because he heard you giggle and then realized he was looking like an idiot “Just call me if you need anything and if you want to do it, yes?” he explained to you and you nodded with a smile.

"Thanks for offering your help Sirius" you replied, looking at him over your bags.

"You’re welcome, miss..."

"Y/N" you completed. He smiled and wrapped a dark curl around his finger that fell unruly from his ponytail.

"I'll see you later then, Y/N. It was nice to greet you" he said by way of farewell and you nodded to respond.

You haven't felt like this with any guy since you met your dear (sarcasm) ex-boyfriend. The insecurities that he had created in you kept you from thinking about having something else later and you honestly didn't feel ready to have your heart broken again.

But Sirius continued to be kind to you. Whenever he looked at you, he made an effort to have a topic of conversation, even if you were not so eloquent, and little by little, he was gaining your trust and your affection. As the weeks went by, you became good friends who chatted in the elevator or occasionally (when you weren't late for work) went downstairs just to share a little more time.

Until one day Sirius showed up at your door with his clothes stained with something that looked like paint, his hair tied up in a messy way and smelling of burned food. He was so beautiful in his own way and you were so afraid of falling in love with him because you knew beforehand that having something else would be impossible.

After all, no boy would ever love you. It was something that your ex-boyfriend had commissioned to get very well into your head.

"Go out?" you asked a little confused after he asked you. You didn't want to misunderstand things.

"Yes! We could go wherever you want. For ice cream, to dinner, to a park, to the cinema... I don't know, wherever you can think of”

"Why?" was the first thing that occurred to you to ask. Now it was Sirius' turn to look confused.

"Well, I thought it would be an opportunity to meet and... spend more time together" he explained and although you had understood the idea it seemed impossible to think that the boy had any kind of interest in you "But it's fine if you don't want to, I don't pretend be upset"

"I'd love to," you rushed to say, fearful that the opportunity would slip through your grasp. You saw him smile and after exchanging a few more words he left with a smile that you couldn't see, but that was pure joy.

Finally, the day of "go out" arrived and you were about to tell him that you could not go. You were nervous, more than nervous you were anxious about what could happen or what he could say about you.

You had searched your entire wardrobe for something decent to wear and after pulling and removing and taking out the clothes and trying them on, none of them convinced you. You looked in the mirror and didn't feel like it was enough of an outfit to date a man as handsome as him. In the first place, you did not even know why he had chosen to go out with you, because, although you considered yourself a nice person, you could not boast of being the most interesting.

Don't think about it, don't think about it, you kept repeating yourself as you continued to get ready and looked at the wall clock waiting for the time for Sirius to knock on your apartment.

Once you were with your outfit ready, you looked yourself up and down and although he did not completely convince you, you decided to tell yourself that you looked beautiful. Still a little nervous you looked at the makeup bag that was under some things on your dressing table. You hadn't put on makeup for years, because you were still scared to hear the comments in your head with that horrible voice.

You look like a whore.

You shook your head to ward off all the negativity and taking a breath you plucked up the courage to open the zippers and remove the beautiful makeup that you had abandoned. When you were finishing and without giving a chance to regret there was a knock on the door that took you by surprise. You went out and found Sirius wearing a striped t-shirt and ripped jeans that reminded you of that blond singer... Kurt was his name?

"Wow" you heard him say and he caught you staring at him adoringly. But you noticed that he looked at you the same "You are beautiful" he said with a smile. You frowned, again a little afraid that he was lying, but you tried again to push away those ideas of self-sabotage and smiled widely.

"I'm glad you like it. You look very handsome, you look like...”

"A rock star? I know” he said winking at you and managing to make you laugh “It's a joke, thanks for the compliment, sweetie” he replied, with his pretty smile of sealed lips. Just when you were smiling at him you watched him pay special attention to your makeup and put on a face that completely terrified you, taking all your confidence.

"Something wrong?"

"Your makeup" he pronounced. You felt your heart squeeze a little.

"You do not like? I can go take it off if you find it ugly or something like that…”

"Ugly?" he asked offended "No! It’s beautiful, but I feel like it lacks a touch. You know, the cherry on the cake that stands out in your eyes” he explained. You looked at him confused for the third time and he snapped his fingers as if the answer had suddenly come to his head "Eyeliner"

"Eyeliner?"

"Of course! Don't you like to use it? " he said kindly, turning his head to the side. You denied.

"I never learned how to do it" you lied. There was a bit of truth to it, but it also had a lot to do with the fact that he kept repeating that you looked vulgar with the eyeliner.

“I'm good at it! Come with me,” he murmured. He took your hand carefully and dragged you gently through the hall until they reached his apartment. You were a nervous wreck when he invited you to join him. "Sorry about the mess, I'm really the most distracted person on the planet and I forget to arrange things," he said with an embarrassed smile. You looked at some vinyl lying around, clothes, food packages, paintings, a guitar. There was a certain peace and beauty within all that mess, completely reflecting the boy who was desperately searching for his favorite eyeliner.

"Come," he asked once he left his room. You sat in a red leather chair he had and he leaned in your direction, very close to your face "Raise your head and look slightly down" he asked you and you listened. He took you by the chin with one hand and you saw him stick his tongue out just a little bit (as a sign of his concentration) while drawing on your eyelids. When he indicated that he had finished you saw him smile from ear to ear, which you imitated when he saw yourself in a mirror.

"Wow..." you whispered. Years ago, you loved putting on makeup and especially eyeliner, so seeing you again like that you were surprised. Besides, he was right, his hand was excellent at it.

"Now it's perfect, right?" he said excitedly. Perfect, that's how Sirius described what was in front of his eyes.

"Yeah... it looks much better" you admitted shyly. You couldn't believe that Sirius could make you feel so comfortable and calm, as well as help you maintain your confidence in yourself.

"I just hope I don't meet jealous guys for not having someone so pretty accompanying them," he said flirtatiously, making you laugh because of your nerves and making you blush "Shall we go?" he asked smiling and extending a hand to help you up.

You looked at him, still amazed to have found someone like that in your life, and took his hand with a smile.

Who would say that sometimes love stories begin like this?

TAG LIST: @aleksanderblack @voidamy @blackst0nes7077 @bruxa0007 @fictionalcharactersworld @falcvns @iwritesiriusly @navs-bhat @aleksanderwh0r3 @myalupinblack @bohologyc @ itzzzcookie @sexysirius

If you want to be on my taglist, click here

#ben Barnes #harry potter #marauders #sirius black #sirius black x reader #sirius black imagine #imagine #sirius x reader #harry potter imagines #Sirius Black x plus size reader #plus size reader #All bodies are valid

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general-light · 3 years

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Revivebur lied about never caring. Here's a full explanation as to how we know this.

There's a certain rebuttal that people like to use whenever I talk about c!Wilbur and his creation of L'Manberg.

["It was revealed that Wilbur never cared about L'Manberg, and was only using it to 'stick it to the man' and divide the server."] Effectively, people like to use Revived!Wilbur's claims to Tommy as evidence that he never really cared about L'Manberg, and (by proxy) that L'Manberg was always corrupt and ill-intentioned from the start.

I think this analysis is flawed, for a variety of reasons. The claim that Wilbur never ever cared about L'Manberg is simply false, and using this quote as evidence is not the best choice.

Why's this? Well - he's lying.

During Season One, Wilbur very explicitly cared about L'Manberg. It is canon that, as President, the role sent him into a crippling depression, literally crying into a pillow at night as a result.

Upon his exile from the nation, he would cry upon seeing the walls (a symbol of the nation so great they were literally on the flag) being torn down, and he would consistently sing/write the national anthem in order to calm himself down (re: Button Room walls) - even choking up during the recital one time.

Wilbur's bomb plan was founded because he cared about the nation far too much - he hurts so badly over the idea of his nation being corrupted that he refuses to let it continue. Hell, he literally attached his identity and self worth to it - we know this because he made the ultimate decision to die alongside it.

Ghostbur, the core manifestation of Wilbur after his death, finds himself bound to L'Manberg, likely because of the way Alivebur tied his own identity to the nation. He was constantly inexplicably drawn to its final crater, without understanding why.

And - this is the real kicker - Season Three Wilbur still reflexively cares about L'Manberg. He longingly stares at the Camaravan when alone, and when he is prompted to by Quackity, he yells with his whole chest about exile, giving away in a single argument how this event still weighs heavy on his heart.

Why would he be hurting so violently if he didn't care about the nation he was being exiled from?

The actions of a character should have narrative weight over the claims of a character. Knowing all of this, how can you place more weight in Wilbur's unreliable verbal claims, and genuinely believe he never cared?

#I know you all know this. I felt having a comprehensive post might be beneficial to us.#wilbur soot #wilbursoot #alivebur #ghostbur #dream smp #dreamsmp #dsmp #i ramble #suicide tw #long post

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irenedubrovna · 3 years

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A post regarding Euphoria for the benefit of myself and basically no one else

So, it really bothers me when people say Euphoria is groundbreaking, progressive media. Here’s a dissection of why I don’t think it is, because this is what I feel like doing at work:

The character of Rue is objectively great. She by far receives the least overt sexualization, and is treated neutrally in terms of active sexuality. She’s treated like a normal teenage girl with mental issues and an addiction to drugs. She falls in love with a girl who she pines for and places on a pedestal. The reason I think she is written this way is because she is a Sam Levinson proxy. She written with gender ambiguity and with little regard to the experiences she’d go through as a black gay female, probably because Sam Levinson has no insight to that aspect of life. Her performance is heightened of course by Zendaya, who breathes unique life to the Sam Levinson’s artistic extension, and without her performance this show would not get even half the acclaim it gets. Attribute that to Zendaya of course, because the director has done little to deserve this acclaim.

The rest of the females, sans Lexi, are pornified to a disgusting extent, not only due to the fact that they are supposed to be underage, but also because their existence as people is treated as being absolutely secondary to their sexual appeal. They are foremost presented in terms of their relation to sex. Cassie, Maddy, Jules, and Kat cannot be removed from their sexuality without disrupting the plot or their journeys in relation to the plot. Why are the females so intrinsically linked to uber fetishized versions of female sexuality, or uber fetishized versions of blossoming female sexual identity?

Maddy is presented not only scantily clad 90 percent of the time, but also dressed in a precariously unattainable sexual fashion. At any given time she is styled to look straight out of, simultaneously, a high fashion editorial, and a “barely legal” porno. She is airheaded and profane, and promiscuous, her mannerisms dictated by the adult films she’s “studied” in order to project an image of perfect hyper sexual femininity. She’s complacent in becoming a prototypical housewife because it will earn her a comfortable place as a trophy wife. She has no aspirations beyond that. So, let’s unpack all of that. Maddy’s role in the show is mostly passive. The most active thing she does in the plot is revenge fuck a man in the pool of a party. Nearly everything else she does in the show that is plot relevant is of someone else’s volition. Even less of what she in the show is related to anything other than a man. She is abused and then pressured into framing another man for said abuse. She has no agency as a character. The only notable difference to this rule is when she takes drugs at a carnival, knocks a pot of chili over, and calls her ex’s mom a cunt. Removed from her active sexual life and carefully cultivated aesthetic, she’s a trite stereotype of an unambitious girlfriend who gets treated poorly. I see people call Maddy iconic, but if she wasn’t gorgeous and well dressed, I doubt anyone would even think twice about her, let alone create fancams and Instagram pages dedicated to her. She exists as a plot device, and as pretty set dressing to build up the shows aesthetic. Her emotions are not well explored, her motivations are sexist, and she is often there to be demeaned, objectified, or to say a bad word. The most damning part of her involvement in this show is her episode where it is stated that she, as a fourteen year old girl, lost her virginity to an adult man, and it is stated she was in control of the situation. This is a dangerous thing to say about a character, to any audience, but especially a young one. To imply that a precocious young girl was in control during her first sexual encounter with a much much older man implies things that frankly border on rape apologist ideology. This show states this unflinchingly and with no further elaboration. If there’s one thing that tells you that Euphoria is a bad show, let it be that. Also, if there’s one thing that tells you about Sam Levinson as a person, and the way he views girls and women, let it fucking be that.

Jules is a young trans girl. She also likes to have sex with men as a means to “conquer femininity”. Scratch that, she likes to have degrading sex with older men in order to “conquer femininity”. This mindset is shown to be toxic, of course, but I think the problem with this idea in general is that there’s no deeper exploration for what this mindset means. It implies that she believes women are the sum of their intrigue and degradations. This mindset I can only assume would be a cultivation of dysphoria and internalized misogyny, which this series is absolutely not prepared to address in a tactful manner. Jules is a teenager with mental illness, trauma, and is undergoing an identity crisis. There’s something powerful in her character, something worth saying, however we only get trimmings of those meaningful things, and are ultimately left with a hurtful depiction of a trans girl because all of her musings on womanhood and identity are incomplete, and they fail to reach beyond the surface of their thesis statement. She wears colorful clothing, is overtly feminine and artistic in her presentation. Everything about her screams insecurity over her own womanhood. That is the crux of her character. Now, I think we should ask ourselves, is trans person who is insecure about their identity peak representation? Is this what trans people deserve? Is it “groundbreaking “? If this show was run by someone else, I might be inclined to say that there’s nothing insidious about this, but this is the guy that made Assassination Nation, so I think we know what he thinks of young women, the way they should be portrayed (that is, for the capitulation of a man) and realize his inclusion of a trans woman in his cast is no more meaningful than the inclusion of any other woman. Women to him are made to be categorized and should, at the end of the day, be easily palatable for the capitulation of a man. The device of having Jules being interested in older men and rough sex for identity reasons is transparent. Trans women are exploited and objectified with a similar fervor to cis women, the caveat being that they are “a forbidden fruit” of sorts to straight men. Jules is sissified, her presentation fetishistic. Her role in the plot is more involved. Her relationship with Rue is sweet, though toxic on both sides. She is ultimately betrayed, blackmailed, and snowballs into something of a manic episode, all well portrayed by Hunter Schafer, but I don’t think her inclusion in the show absolves it of any of its many sins.

Let’s talk about Cassie. Cassie is the Eurocentric beauty standard exemplified. She is the blonde haired blue eyed girl next store, and her boobs are of course always on display. She is notably promiscuous, something I say right off the bat because that’s how she’s introduced, as a so called slut through the words of the devil (Nate Jacobs). She is a girl with daddy issues, which we are all familiar with at this point. Her sexual boundaries begin and end at the whim of her partner. The terms of her consent are much like the terms of consent of many young girls brainwashed by society and the rising tide of degradation porn: everything is alright as long as you provide them comfort and affirmation afterward. You can touch them roughly without asking, you can use them as a tool to affirm your masculinity. This is the way men prefer their women now: just broken enough to say yes to anything they want. It’s become a joke at this point. Men like girls with issues, but only the ones that will feed their own desires. Cassie Howard is meek. Her inclusion in the plot I suppose ties to themes of drug addiction and how it divides and destroys the people you love. It doesn’t show what it does to her beyond shaping her sexual encounters, which is no surprise. Overall I’d say Cassie is in this roster of females as the most traditional categorically, in relation to how men view women and further how they sexualize them. She has a relationship with someone who doesn’t really love her. That mostly what she does here. Gets used. Doesn’t drive the plot or conflict much. More pretty set dressing. More aesthetics. How this show consists of so many women but is driven so much by men is unsurprising, and, again, very enlightening in the grand scheme of things.

Lastly we touch on Kat. I’d like to begin with the fact that self actualization through sexual exploration, in a show run by a man, is just a cloak for a woman to gratify the audience with her sexuality. Regardless of whether or not she is plus sized, this is overt objectification. She is on this show to be sexy. Beyond that, the fact that a minor using sex work as a form of liberation is disgusting. Whether or not she is portrayed as “owning” her sexuality is negligible, and speaks to the same mindset discussed with Maddy. Minors cannot fucking consent to sex, sexual acts, or anything within the confines of such. It’s crazy that this occurs with two different characters in such a similar way. It has echoes of “Well, she looked older..” and “Well, she wanted it..” or “She’s advanced for her age”. Never, not once in the events of the series is there meaningful introspection on what doing this kind of thing does to a minor. Moreover, these acts are explicit, and made clearly for sexual gratification. None of these things are absolved by the fact that she’s plus sized. If anything, her body type is fetishized in this context. It’s also another case of a “good girl to bad girl” transformation, which are archaic and, of course, sexist. With the rise of adult websites targeting minors for explicit content, this is even more reprehensible. Once again, in terms of representation, is this really what speaks to you as progressive? Groundbreaking? A girl gains control of her own narrative by having sex with lots of men. She gains control by being sexy. She gains control by dehumanizing and objectifying herself. No she doesn’t. Media controlled by men will tell this story to you thousands of times, don’t listen because she’s bigger than a size four.

ALL OF THESE CHARACTERS ARE UNDERAGE. ALL OF THEM HAVE EXPLICIT SEX SCENES, EVEN THE SEXUAL ASSAULT IS MADE CINEMATICALLY PORNIFIED. THESE SHOTS ARE MADE TO BE OBJECTIVELY SEXY. THIS IS NOT A CASE OF SOMEONE CREATING SOMETHING FOR THE SAKE OF REALISM. IT IS ABOUT MAKING SCENES THAT SPEAK TO A MALE AUDIENCE. THAT CATER TO THE MALE GAZE. ARGUE WITH THE WALL.

I won’t go further into the plot, other characters, or the structure or the episodes for sake of brevity, but I felt compelled to air my thoughts on this to the void. I can only hope I was critical enough that Sam Levinson will one day see this and cry because another bad feminist thinks something that he made sucks

#euphoria #I don’t even think anyone will read this but #it’s just not good #sorry #anti euphoria #anti Sam Levinson

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oneoftheprettynerds · 3 years

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Worth The Eternity: Dark! Bucky x Reader (Vampire AU + Mob AU + Soulmate AU)

This is for @cherienymphe’s 5K Twilight Renaissance Writing Challenge. Congratulations, keep slaying! I wrote this instead of studying, so pray for my paper please lmao.

A/N: This tired girl tried.

WARNINGS: something between dubcon and noncon present. Triggering, darkish themes.

Summary of sorts: Ever seen Hotel Transylvania 1/2/3? In this AU, mythical creatures exist and have soulmates and you feel a zing if you are blessed enough to encounter them.

"Boss, we narrowed it down to these core three suspects.” A husky voice, slightly muffled by the sack on your head, entered your ears and you had a hard time being calm.

You had been picked up from your office, specifically the basement of Oscorp Industries while entering your sleek silver car. A pinch in your neck and everything comically blurred. Next thing you know, you are waking up with your entire body sore, your muscles and joints screaming and begging for freedom from tight restraints. Your vision is black, as if you are staring into an abyss and your vision is filled with white and red dancing spots forming patterns, maybe from the hours of inactivity.

Muffled noises of protest and scraping of metal against the concrete floor entered your ears and you realized you are not the only one here held captive. You racked your mind for possible explanations but couldn’t come up with one.

You lived a very simple life, even as the vice president of Oscorp industries. No messing around, no rivalries with other employees, no butting heads with the seniors on the Director’s board. Was this a ploy against the company? Or a domination statement against the weaker species, the humans?

Lucky enough for you, you realized you would soon find out as the sound of a shutter opening and metal clanking noisily filled your ears.

“Took you long enough, Scott. Fill me in.” Another brooding voice reprimanded jokingly and a million goosebumps traveled the path of your skin as you involuntarily shuddered.

“Yes Boss. We tracked the missing sum to the account of this man on the left. He has fourteen other accounts under different names and nationalities, pretty hard to trace but not impossible luckily. This proved he is shady so he’s most definitely involved.”

“This ginger on the right, he made the suspicious call with weird words so we believe he pretty much passed the verdict, calling the shots with the codewords. He has had several surgeries, his face is fucking silicon at this point but his DNA showed us his true identity, Mr. Rumlow here is the Consigliere of The Midnight Moon.”

You sat and listened, piecing together whatever you understood. The pack/mob name more than rung a bell, it scared you shitless. You were quick to catch on, realising that you were caught in an inter species scruffle.

“This shit just got interesting folks. Alright, where does Miss Sexy Legs fit in all this?”

The pencil skirt you wore wasn’t the most modest piece of clothing to exist and the spaghetti straps blouse was a bad choice considering the sheer coldness in this warehouse, the temperature only seemed to go down with the entry of your kidnappers but it’s not like you knew this was going to happen.

You could only assume with your legs on display that you were the one being sexualised and talked about.

“We are not sure about her though, that’s why I said suspects. We have proof the call was made from her phone but the videos show her lending it to a creepy stranger at a café. It might be really good acting but it’s highly unlikely. We brought her in because in the transfer of the stolen cash, her account was an intermediary but it’s a good chance that she was tricked when her phone was borrowed by Mr. Rumlow. Also, she’s a human, you see?”

If it was you being talked about, you felt a jot of relief, just a smudge because at least they were aware you weren’t involved in whatever game they were playing. That didn’t necessarily ensure your freedom, but hey, you were willing to take anything at that point.

“That’s the sweet fucking scent I keep on smelling!” The leader exclaimed as if he made a great discovery, a cure for a pandemic or cancer you’d think. His gruff voice almost had a light, cheery undertone to it, too unlike of a man who was wronged and cheated and was close to murdering someone no doubt. These mobsters are always maniacs like The Joker.

“It sucks that you brought her here. She might not be guilty, but now she knows too much. She’d make a good blood bag though. Maybe I’ll just have a taste, who knows?” The ‘boss’ made a disturbing slurping noise and your heart stopped at his words, a tear almost escaping your eye.

Discussion about drinking blood? You were most definitely in The Vamps territory, your assumption about the inter-species conflict true. You had no doubt you were the weakest in this creepy space, the frailest here, most probably the only human.

“Show me the bastards’ faces.” Like the flip of a switch, the joking man swapped his personality and all but growled. You heard the ripping of cloth and a man gagging, his shrieks muffled. Another flurry of movements and another man retching on the fabric could be heard.

“Well, hello Mr. Rumlow. I must say, brown suited you better.” A horde of chuckles made you widen your eyes, even though only black still filled your vision, as you realised there were at least a dozen twisted, sick men in the room. The fact that they were silent as fuck till now only showed you how disciplined and regimented these soldiers were.

“This one has a pretty face, boss.” You felt the sack ripped off you, and your eyes closed with the sudden flooding of the lights. Your eyes sealed due to hours of inactivity and you kept them shut, afraid to face your tormenter.

A cold hand cupped your cheek and straightened your face that was trying to hide itself in your silky locks by curling in your own neck, the cool metal of rings and insanely icy fingers chilling you literally.

“Open your eyes sweetheart.” A voice called out behind you and you gathered enough courage to face your impending doom, the air as silent as the calm before a storm.

Your orbs opened and gazed into piercing sapphire blue eyes and everything behind this chiseled face blurred. You could swear a ring of pink and red passed over his eyes and you shuddered again, getting overwhelmed due to the eye contact yourself. This wasn’t the usual anxiety you felt while meeting new people, it was somehow both a pull and a push. An inviting comforting pull and a terrifying, ‘stay cautious' push.

You, a self-sufficient woman, who had been independent for as long as you could remember, suddenly felt half; incomplete in a way that you couldn’t fathom. You felt an attraction, a tug towards the man in front of you, and the absurdity of the thoughts and emotions that popped in your brain made you heave on the gag.

Your intellect couldn’t find a reason, your view on love and romance until now completely conflicted. You believed soulmates to be separate pieces of art that complemented each other when together; then what was this broken jigsaw puzzle sentiment you were having now?

Your wide eyes somehow managed to break free of his stare, panicking and looking around to observe, which wasn’t comforting in the least as men with guns and gadgets filled your vision. You were relatively unharmed in comparison to the beaten lads beside you, one with a bruised face and the other with a bloody one.

The handsome man, the Boss’s stare didn’t leave you through the entirety of your searching around, you were sure they saw you as a scared little rabbit, waiting out its inevitable death.

“Lost in her eyes, Boss?” The sideman cracked what he believed to be the funniest joke in existence, earning laughs of the horde of the soldiers around.

Your eyes went to the Boss’s face, surprisingly when his left your face to glare a nasty stare on his trusted man. His muscular form raised the forelimb, his hand signaling to stop, that effectively quietened the room to a pin drop silence.

With gentle fingers, the man took off your gag and yours lips quivered, throat too dry to make a noise though. You greedily gulped the air through your mouth for whatever reason, maybe just to move your jaw after hours of inactivity.

Maintaining eye contact was challenging, arduous to say the least. It seemed as if he could read you, find everything about you there is to find by studying the flecks in your orbs. His delicate hands, loosened the ties and you were now more so confused, along with the trepidation.

Just what the fuck was going on?

Bucky had almost lost hope, centuries on this planet and no one to love and cherish, no personal confidante, no soulmate. But good things take time, right? And in his opinion, best things take an eternity. He knows this now.

Expect the unexpected was the truest phrase, idiom whatever it was, in this moment. He had spent countless nights wondering about his soulmate, was she pretty? Ugly? Was she even a she or not? Dumb or witty? He made a lot of scenarios of how they’d meet, the kids, reigning together. He entertained the idea of her being from a different species, a nymph, an orc, maybe a werewolf?

And now that he found her, it was a revelation, a surprise honestly. After all optimism got evaporated, after traveling the dark tunnel for centuries literally, there she was, his beacon of light. Finding her was a wonder, and her being a human was astonishing, a possibility he somehow failed to consider, but he was over the moon cause there she was, right in front of him now. A beautiful, stunning lady in flesh and blood, human flesh and blood, with the prettiest eyes he had ever seen. His zing.

He always liked humans, apart from the similar appearances the vampires shared with them, they were always docile and accommodating. In the last few millenniums, after the mythical creatures showed themselves to the world, the humans understood their place and tier pretty early.

They were smart to surrender and be peaceful as all the species came to light, clever to know that even with less numbers they could be overpowered and bloodshed was detrimental to all involved.

He knew he would convert you soon though, your lifespan far too short for his liking, and obviously, now that he found you, you were to rule together. For Centuries.

His happiness was over taken by the realisation that you were not in the most hospitable settings, you were tied and strapped, being preyed on by his men. He made quick work of the restraints, allowing you to breathe by loosening them first. Your scared, trembling form plucked his unbeating heart’s strings, but strangely enough, his brain found amusement and he felt smug. Seeing you tied up and trembling was definitely a turn on for him, noted.

After commanding his foolish men to stop giggling, he leaned closer to you, your aura comforting and intoxicating as he smelled your hair. A divine scent, an addictive one for sure. The goosebumps on your skin confirmed the reciprocation of his connection.

“You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” His husky voice, calming but imposing resonated in your ears, his hand tapping your cheek on the other side. Even though the private statement was whispered for you, the deafening silence made every person witness it.

He leaned back, his hands behind his back as he grinned, tone again light like earlier and commanded, “Get her out of here and cleaned up, tell Nat and Wanda, they’ll know what I mean. Then we’ll deal with these guys here, after the lady leaves of course. No scratch on her from this point forward or you’ll lose a limb. Proceed.”

All three of you, the hostages were going to get ‘taken care of’ but in different ways.

It had been over twenty hours for sure, you were abducted in the early hours of the morning and now the moon was out again, like one endless night. You remember being escorted to a sleek black car; your limbs ached but you managed to keep up. You tried to keep up with the car’s turns, trying to memorize the streets but your head was pounding and eyes were blurry.

You remembered being led to a suite in an expensive hotel like ones where your conferences were held, being taken to room and given towels to clean up. You didn’t change the dress when given another, the attire being a summer dress even shorter. A woman came a while later named Wanda who checked the forming light contusions and scuffed skin with hands so delicate, as if you were precious cargo. You were, you just didn’t know.

You didn’t eat anything they provided and after hours of conspiring and overthinking, you heard sturdy footsteps. Since your arrival, only women bothered with you, probably the ones the leader sent. But these were heavier, harder.

The door opened and you glanced up to find the leader who demanded your locking up in this fancy place, his eyes travelling on your form sat up on bed, as you mindfully pulled your skirt down. You were anxious the entire day, dreading your future but nothing was like the restlessness that ran through you in this person’s presence.

Maybe it was the fact he was a vampire, or the leader of a Mob or maybe both, but whatever it was he intimidated you, alarmed you, even though you’ve had only two encounters including the present one. You were smart to be scared, he looked at you like, like you were something to eat, your mind told you.

“Hey.” His raspy voice caught you off guard, not having heard a single syllable out of the women the entire day, your questions being ignored the entire time.

You stared at him warily. Your mind having a myriad of emotions and thoughts. You didn’t want to trigger him, besides the place being armed well, he was a vampire, a beefy one at that and you would be stupid to try anything. Shouting and making a scene was no good either, your best option being the lamest one: to talk it out. You refused to become a willing blood bag.

You let out a long sigh, surprising him somehow, “Look, I have money, resources in the business sphere, information, what do you want? I know I got caught in this by accident, but I’m willing to do a lot of things to get out. Name it and I’ll do my best.” You said with your ‘business deal’ voice, the wise, guiding leader voice from your office.

For some reason though, the man found it hilarious. He slapped his hand on his chest, his boisterous laugh echoing. It wasn’t that good a joke if he believed it to be one. Men, ever so condescending.

“Humans, ever so gluttonous. I don’t want your money, precious.” His term of endearment didn’t fall short to your ears, but you had larger things in play here than a sweet nothing.

“I have other things to offer, name it.” Within your moral sphere, of course.

“You still don’t get it, do you? And you humans boast you have everything figured about us.”

He neared you and you leaned to the inner area of the bed, refusing to get cornered to the wall if things escalate and wanting to have the option of running away, probably in vain though. With each step he took, a new shudder ran through you because of the closing distance between your bodies, it getting triggered in unexplainable ways.

You didn’t need to say words to prompt him to explain, your scrunched eyebrows already doing that mission. “You should feel it too, you know? The goosebumps, the bewilderment in your insides, you’re intoxicated by my very presence too, aren’t you?”

The more he neared, your breaths quickened visibly, his words becoming truer. Your skin heating, mind losing a bit of consciousness. His presence didn’t affect you to this extent in the warehouse, but now? You were putty, almost incapable to think. You tried to roll over to the other side but your plan failed because he caged you with his bulky hands on your shoulder, body diagonal across yours. With how slow and out of it you were, he didn’t even need his heightened speed to trap you.

“Oh, it’s kicking in, isn’t it? The realization, the surge of love and lust? To be held and cherished and be full of me?” He smirked at your trembling form, your chest heaving and weak arms trying to push him off.

“I’ve read humans feel flushed, hot, so let’s get you out of these scraps, yes?” He slid off the thin straps while you mumbled a very unconvincing ‘stop’. Both actions were pretty pointless because he wouldn’t stop, you both knew that and also, he ended up taking the top off over your torso the normal way.

Your hands barely managed to land themselves on his wrist to pull them off, but the foolish limbs ravished in the feel of his cold skin instead. It was like a high you had never experienced and your body wanted more. It was already addicted to the feel of this stranger whose name you didn’t even know.

He unzipped the skirt, your pathetic body no longer even fighting him as he rambled on. “Among us vampires, well not much to tell but we’re all freezing cold when we find our ‘zing’. Like every normal day. Except for the inability to think and the need for their mate’s blood, of course.”

He came back up to kiss you, his body now in line with yours as one hand held your cheek and the other groped your breast. You had an out of body experience, feeling disgusted for reciprocating the kiss but also wanting more of that, more of him.

He trailed down your neck to your collarbone and you gasped for air, your thoughts incoherent. He kissed between the valley of your breasts, removing the bra sometime in between as you heaved. He wanted nothing more than to rest in those swells for an eternity.

As soon as cold air hit your nipples, one was being sucked while other was being pinched. The nameless stranger alternated between licking like a kitten and sucking like a baby on the breasts. Your rational part felt gross but the dominating side was the one experiencing delight.

He kissed down the sternum, to your bellybutton and then hovered above the thin, flimsy underwear. His hands slid down your sides, down the curve of your waist and hooked themselves at the cloth’s side, pulling them down in a swift motion.

Your legs quaked, trying to close themselves but one muscular arm on your thigh was able to hold them off, throw one away from the other. He leaned down and you were pathetically still under his muscles, your lower limbs either not daring to move or not wanting to.

You wrapped your hands around your torso to hide a bit of yourself, but did that really matter in the larger picture of the events unfolding right now?

You closed your eyes, tears already escaping since minutes ago as you tried to accept the reality of what was happening. A cold sensation on your little button caught you off guard; an infinitesimal fraction of time later, an inhale reached your ears.

You looked down, opening your eyes to find the man smelling you, his Grecian nose poking through your folds and taking in sniffs of your intimate part.

“Please sto-”

“The scent at its source, so fucking divine. I want a taste.” With that, your sentence got interrupted by his words and then by his action as his tongue licked away. It sucked on the bead, delving in the cavity there pretty fucking deep and he slurped away like he pretended to do when you were blindfolded.

Your back arched like a gymnast, hands that were folded across your chest clawing at your own skin, leaving marks behind. His hands were hooked around your thighs and they threw your legs on his shoulder some point in between. When he thrusted three fingers at once, an audible wheeze left your lips, your noiseless gasps now hoarse ‘Aah’s and you could feel him smirk.

There a also a lot of teeth involved with his razor sharp canines that appeared out of nowhere during this and when he thrusted his fingers particularly hard with his teeth nibbling on your sensitive bud, you shamelessly let go of the inside flow.

It felt humiliating and mortifying, your body glowing with the aftereffects of descending into bliss while your mind wanted to cry. Your soul was surprisingly content with what unfolded, at peace. You hated the diversity of emotions you felt, revolted to find even a bit of positive sentiment at your assaulter’s actions.

While your inner monologue happened, the man got up and out of his clothes painfully quick. You tried to sit your up, feebly trying to escape but ineffectively so. Your eyes couldn’t meet the handsome stranger’s nor did you want to see him naked and removed him form your eyeline, making you get caught off guard when his hands wrapped around your ankles and pulled you down, finishing the small distance you managed to crawl up.

His hands left their place as he kissed his way back up your flushed skin, from the swell of your ankle to the swell of your stomach. He licked away the drops of blood around the crescent scratches left by your nails under the intense ecstasy he forced upon you. Then he continued his journey from the swells of your chest to the swell of your cheek, taking you in a fiery, needy yet affectionate kiss.

Your surroundings blurred a second into the kiss, mouth and skin hungry for his touch alike. A thrust had you painfully gasp as you were stretched unlike ever before, impaled to a depth unlike ever before. He kissed away your tears that continued to spill on command of your ashamed mind and leaned back to look into your eyes, a pretty pink passing over them for a fleeting second.

His blue orbs bore into yours and you almost believed he loved you by the intensity of his gaze. At this moment in time, nothing but you two mattered, connected and finally together. How you got here didn’t matter, how unwilling you were didn’t matter. This felt right, felt necessary and was worthy of everything you went through. The rational part seemed to die the instant you two physically connected and somehow, everything and nothing made sense.

But you felt complete.

Your lips captured his of their own accord, and you both smiled into the caress of your lips while he began thrusting, one hand on your waist, the other supporting his weight. Out of breath, he leaned back, still thrusting though, and gazed at you. “Scott back there, he called you pretty, that’s practically an insult. The way you look right now, you’re much more than beautiful. You’re ethereal, my Zing, the loveliest in existence.”

His genuine words tugged at your heart. For some reason you believed him, had confidence in his feelings. Your foreheads connected as he quickened, his hand caressing your skin, the cool against your warm skin soothing. It didn’t take long for you to let go again this time; your previous resolution already dissolved. He neared your ears and whispered, “I want you to scream my name. It’s Bucky.” You nodded absentmindedly, chasing the high.

One particular thrust paired with his canines piercing your skin made you cry out “Bucky!” and you felt him smirking in your neck, lapping the blood. You wilted in bliss and your eyes closed, warmth filling you minutes after. Your eyes were dazed and you felt ‘Bucky’ shift, removing his towering frame from you, a goofy smile on the chiseled face.

With mind free of the aforementioned disapproving thoughts, you checked out his handsome face. It was like you saw him in an entirely different light now.

He gave you a quick peck, his hands cradling your face and he spoke with the utmost sincerity. “You are worth the wait, precious. No measure of time with you will be long enough. But we’ll start with forever to compensate. I’m never letting you go.”

573 notes · View notes

gardenergulfie · 3 years

Text

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

Rating: G

Word Count: 2539

Relationships: Jimmy | Solidarity/Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname

Characters: Scott | Smajor1995 | Dangthatsalongname, Jimmy | Solidarity

Tags:Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Red String of Fate, Pre-Canon, Post-Canon, Past Lives, Alternate Universe - Empires SMP Setting (Video Blogging RPF), Friends to Lovers, Childhood Friends, Bickering, Flower Husbands, Emptober, Seablings,

Everything was normal with it until the day he met the other rulers. It was a political meeting of nations, the first time all of them would all be together in years. Rivendell was hosting it and it would be Jimmy’s first time out of the kingdom. Jimmy and Lizzie were representing the Ocean Empire as heirs but they were allowed to meet and greet with whoever they wanted. Lizzie quickly ran off, introducing herself to the Mezalean prince and leaving Jimmy to flounder alone. He gripped the ribbon between his fingers nervously but took a deep breath and approached the first person he could see. That person was a winged elf with blue hair and a very aloof expression.

Emptober Day 4: Ribbon

AO3 Link

Fic below the cut

Jimmy was a pretty normal guy. I mean he was the leader of an empire but compared to the other leaders and even his own citizens he was normal, maybe even average. Just a pretty basic dude. But Jimmy had something, a part of him, that was very not normal. It was a ribbon tied around his left wrist. It was green and blue with a design of red flowers that Jimmy had never seen before. The ribbon had one end constantly trailing out of sight. It had been there for as long as he could remember and strangely enough, seemingly no-one else could see it.

When Jimmy was little he tried out some tests with the ribbon. He found out that he couldn’t tangle it, he couldn’t trip people with it, he couldn’t hang things on it, it didn’t interact with water like most fabrics did, it was just intangible to anyone or anything but Jimmy. He’d told his sister Lizzie about it but she didn’t have one and she couldn’t see or feel it. He’d even gone to the local library to do research on it which did make the bookkeeper give him a strange look, he’d never been one for academics before but he just needed to know. He found nothing but some sappy love stories about people with invisible red strings of fate that connected them to their one true love. Jimmy didn’t really believe these stories, besides he had a ribbon not a string.

Once or twice in his life Jimmy had felt a tug on the ribbon. It felt like a person on the other end of it had pulled on it. Was there someone also connected to him? Were those stories about strings of fate true? Jimmy followed the ribbon for a long time, only stopping when he realized that he was at the edge of the kingdom. If there was a person on the other end, they weren’t from his home empire.

For a while that was it. Nothing new could be found out about the ribbon and so Jimmy resigned himself to it just being a mystery forever. On the plus side, he didn’t really mind it that much. It didn’t hurt him or get stuck on anything which was nice and it was a nice texture. Sometimes when he was anxious or just restless he would twist it between his fingers and fidget with it. He got some strange looks, fidgeting with nothing, but it wasn’t that weird so no-one really questioned him.

“Hello! I’m Jimmy Solidarity of the Ocean Empire!” He said to the elf, his voice coming out louder than he intended from nerves. He winced as the elf turned to him with a mildly peeved expression.

“Scott Smajor, heir of Rivendell.” The elf said coldly. He assessed Jimmy lazily but his eyes stopped on Jimmy’s left hand, the one holding the ribbon. His cold mask dropped and Jimmy could see an expression of shock and mild intrigue before it went back up. “I’ve never spoken to a citizen of the ocean empire. Are you all this small? It's kinda cute” Jimmy bristled a bit at the insult? Flirt? He couldn’t tell but he knew enough to be offended.

“Not all of us can be as tall as elves. I am quite a normal height! And I’m not cute.” Jimmy snapped back. Scott looked briefly surprised at his retort but then smirked.

“Not cute you say? That adorable pout on your face says otherwise.” Scott says, lifting his hand to gesture at Jimmy’s expression. A hand that had a blue green and red flower patterned ribbon tied around it. The same ribbon that existed around Jimmy’s hand. Jimmy’s eyes widened and he looked at his own ribbon. Sure enough, they were connected. So there was a person on the other end of it and Jimmy had found them. But Scott? Really? This ribbon better not be one of those soul things, he does not want to be bonded to that rude elf.

Jimmy realized that he should probably respond to Scott. He’s been standing silently for about a minute now and Scott was surly waiting for him to say something.

“I wasn’t pouting! I was upset at being called cute. Not everyone likes random strangers calling them cute, you know.” Jimmy says back. Scott looks thoughtful.

“I don’t know. If a pretty boy like you walked up to me and called me cute, I don’t think I’d be complaining.” The elf says back. Jimmy sputters as he tries to think of a response. He really wasn’t someone who got flirted with often, even as a joke, and it was very disarming.

“Well I’m not you so I care.” He says back with his face bright red. He knew it wasn’t the best comeback and from Scott’s smug expression he could tell it hadn’t hit the mark he was aiming for.

“Right sure.” Scott says with an eye roll. “This conversation’s being nowhere and I already won it so why don’t we talk about something else. I could take you on a tour? I don’t think you fishfolk get the chance to see elven architecture often.” Jimmy once again bristled at Scott’s mild insult but agreed to the tour. Scott led Jimmy away from the front hall and outside into Rivendell proper. Jimmy wouldn’t admit it but Scott was a pretty good tour guide, he knew a lot about the kingdom’s history and culture and was good at talking about it, even if he still flirted and insulted Jimmy quite often. Scott showed Jimmy the sheep pens, the owl roost, and apiary, all places that Jimmy had only seen glimpses of during the trip here.

In the apiary Jimmy saw something. A red flower, identical to the ones on his ribbon. He called Scott over, asking what kind of flower that was. Scott glanced over and when he saw the red flower Jimmy was talking about he briefly touched the ribbon tied to his own hand before answering.

“Its a poppy. They’re a common flower and grow in most places. You haven’t seen one before?” The elf asked. Jimmy shook his head.

“I don’t think they grow in the swamps. I would have remembered seeing a flower this red before.” Jimmy gently touched a petal of the flower. It was beautiful and it made Jimmy feel…. weirdly bittersweet? It was just a flower. Why did Jimmy feel like crying then? He blinked away the tears that were forming and backed away from the flower. Scott was giving him an odd searching look.

“It's my favorite kind of flower.” Scott said at last. “I always make sure there’s at least one in the apiary at all times.” Jimmy was surprised at this personal info that Scott was just telling him. Scott hadn’t talked much about himself, mostly speaking about the elves and their great kingdom. Him just dropping this strange piece of personal information seems out of pace and it made Jimmy wonder why he did it. The elf was still looking at him, waiting for Jimmy to say something in return.

“It really is lovely.” Jimmy responded. “Does it have any special meanings?” Jimmy had heard of flowers having special meaning attached to them though he hadn’t learned much about them. Lizzie had but not him.

“Sleep, peace, and death are what the poppy represents.” Scott says, unconsciously tugging on the ribbon. Jimmy felt that tug, just more proof that they were connected. Sleep, peace, and death were strange meanings for the flowers on his ribbon. Maybe the type of flower didn’t mean anything but it's a magic ribbon so that was unlikely. Jimmy was hoping that his flowers meant peace or maybe sleep, death was something he’d really not want to be tied with.

Scott had been looking more and more nervous the more Jimmy thought. The elf was trying to hide it but the fluttering of his wings and shuffling of his feet gave him away. Jimmy was about to ask him about the problem when a loud gong rang across the city.

“That's the feast bell. They’re about to start dinner.” Scott says, moving towards the door to the apiary. “We need to go quickly so we’re not late.” Jimmy let the topic of Scott’s anxiety around him drop and the two rushed towards the main hall. They were separated in the crowd when they got there, Jimmy being reunited with Lizzie who asked him where he was and introduced him to her new friend Joel. Jimmy didn’t see Scott for the rest of the night, only briefly catching a glimpse of him when it was time for him to leave.

Jimmy met Scott quite a few times over the course of many years, the two becoming rulers of their own nations, Scott in Rivendell and Jimmy in the newly formed Cod Empire. They maintained a similar relationship as they had when they were young, Scott teasing and flirting with Jimmy and Jimmy getting flustered and firing back with his own bad insults. Neither of them brought up the topic of the ribbon though Jimmy was pretty sure that Scott knew at this point. The many glances at Jimmy’s left wrist was a pretty big clue to that.

Years past, Jimmy and Scott were still leading their empires and occasionally bickering with each other. The demon plagued them for a bit and in that time they became allies in a very strange way, Scott taking Jimmy on a date. The many poppies around the date place was a nice reference to the ribbon and a knowing look from Jimmy let Scott know he knew what was up. It took a couple more suggested dates for Jimmy to realize that the date wasn’t one of Scott’s normal flirts but that Scott was actually interested in him. The two took it slow, going on quite a few more dates before they were ready to speak of the ribbon out-loud.

Jimmy remembered it as a chilly evening, the two of them drinking warm tea inside of Jimmy’s house. Scott had made the excuse of it being too cold back home and that the swamp was just much warmer but Jimmy knew the elf at this point to know that Scott wanted to spend time with him. They had done some baking following a simple recipe that somehow they still managed to mess up and then salvage at the last minute. Now with a mug of tea in hand and slightly burnt cookies on a plate in front of him, Jimmy was feeling brave. He tugged on the ribbon once then twice when Scott didn’t look over from his cup of tea. The second tug caught the elf’s attention and he looked down at the ribbon resting beside them both.

“I think at this point we both know about the existence of this,” Jimmy waved his own end of the ribbon, “and the fact that it connects them. I don’t know about you but we’ve been dating for a bit. We might as well talk about it.” Scott blinked in surprise at the question coming from seemingly nowhere but nodded at set down his drink.

“I was wondering when one of us was going to be brave enough to bring up the soul ribbon.” Scott said. “I’d have thought you would have blurted the question out way before now.” Scott teased with a small smirk. Jimmy let the insult flirt fly over his head, mostly focused on the words soul ribbon.

“Wait, the soul ribbon is like a string of fate? The stuff from those love stories?” Jimmy asked. Scott looked confused at the question.

“Wait, you mean you don’t know about soul ribbons? They’re real and way more than just stories. We’re kind of living proof of that.” Scott said. Jimmy leaned back in his chair a bit more.

“The only information I found about anything similar to the ribbon was stories about red strings of fate that connect people destined to be together. They were just fiction I thought but you’re saying that it’s really real. We’re soulmates?” Jimmy asks.

“Soul ribbons are a bit more complicated than just the idea of fated couples. They’re broken promises from a past life. When two people promise to stay together but something happens where they promise is broken, the universe will step in and give them another chance. Hence, the soul ribbon.” Scott explains. “The pattern of the ribbon normally has some kind of meaning relating to the past life. Soul ribbons can’t really be studied but there have been enough cases that people are now pretty sure of their meaning.”

“So in another life, we made a promise to each other but it got broken? And poppies were important to us?” Jimmy questioned. “Well that explains why I feel so happy and sad at the same time when I see a poppy. Past life emotions, huh.” Scott reached out and took a cookie with one hand and Jimmy's own hand with another.

“I understand if this is a lot to take in.” Scott bit his lip, looking anxious. “Again, the soul ribbon doesn’t mean that we have to be together. It’s just the universe giving us a second chance. So if this is too much for you we don’t have to keep dating-“

“What? Scott no. I don’t want to stop dating. It’s strange, yeah, but I mean I already knew we were connected. This doesn’t have to change anything for us! I’m happy to know how we’re connected, this solves a mystery I’ve always been wondering about. I mean, better lovers in a past life than fated enemies in this one.” Jimmy said passionately, laughing a bit at his own joke at the end. Scott’s face brightened up and he smiled back at Jimmy.

“Was that one of your theories? Fated enemies?” Scott chuckled as he took a bite of his cookie. Jimmy rubbed the back of his neck bashfully with his free hand.

“I mean we were always bickering. It wasn’t too strange of an idea.” Jimmy defended himself.

The two of them continued to talk for quite a few more hours before they eventually fell asleep together, bundled up under a quilt. Their hands were intertwined, the two ends of the ribbons brushing against each other. The universe looked down at these second chance souls and felt pride. They really had found each other again.

#sorry that this is late i was on a plane all day #mcyt #empires smp #scott smajor #jimmy solidarity #flower husbands #emptober #Gulfie's Writings

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kotos-and-smiles · 3 years

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The meaning of “I”

Chapter 104 spoliers!

Note 1. I’ll still be calling it “I” even though the translators are changing the way they translate it to be “peace,” because that’s what I’m used to calling it for now.

Note 2. Just a fair warning, this is a long post, but hopefully you enjoy!

Okay, I’ve been meaning to start this blog for months now but I’ve had no idea how to just start so here we are. I decided what better way to start off than talking about the newest chapter because there is oh so much to talk about in this one chapter alone. The first thing I really want to talk about from this chapter is the club’s song for nationals “I” or “Peace” as the translators have started calling it. Despite the fact the club has been working on “I” for a lot of chapters now, we still don’t know about the actual meanings and motifs that are in the song or what feelings they’re aiming to put into it. I think we haven’t heard much about this because the club is still trying to figure it out for themselves. Also, I’ve been questioning for a while what type of song Takinami would write for the club, and that was answered in this chapter.

What we do know about the song is that it has the 4-person part with Chika, Kota, Momoya, and Yoshinaga, a part where all 9 of the club members play together, a part where melodies played by Chika and Satowa and then Takezo and Hiro will intertwine, and everyone has a solo. It’s also been emphasized over and over that all 9 people are needed to play the song. Takinami has only given his usual vague hints as to what meaning he put into the song, because like always he wants the club to figure it out for themselves. Until we get to ch.104, in which Chika interprets it in such the opposite way of how Takinami meant it that Takinami finally feels the need to give him a hint as to what the song means (and thank god, because I really don’t think that poor Chika would’ve gotten it at all otherwise).

In chapter 104, we learn that “I” is actually a piece that can be played with any amount of the 9 parts and still be a full song. This is a huge deal, and honestly blew my mind when I first read it. Takinami has specifically pushed the idea that everyone needs to be there to play this song, knowing full well that in actuality the song would be complete no matter how many people played it. Everyone is still essential in his eyes because the point is the desire to play with everyone and the importance each member holds to each other. Takinami even brings up the conversation he and Chika had before Ku-on, showing just how huge of an impact the whole situation with Ku-on had on Takinami. With the performance of Ku-on, he saw what this group was really made of and what they were capable of, even in less than ideal circumstances they pulled through an intensely emotional performance. Takinami finally found a sound he couldn’t ignore. The conversation Takinami and Chika have in ch.25, when Takinami tells Chika he shouldn’t perform and Chika responds that he really enjoys playing with everyone, that sentiment made it into “I.” Except now, the tables are turned and instead Chika still desperately wants to play, but absolutely will not if it means no one else gets to and thinks that he won’t be able to, and Takinami has taken a complete 180 on what his stance was during Ku-on. Unlike in Ku-on, Chika is, in a way, trying to drop out, and now Takinami is the one telling Chika to stay and play. I honestly love this whole conversation between them, I love how Takinami gets pissed at Chika for even thinking about withdrawing from the club, I love that he points out that Chika is only 16 and does not have to take everything on himself, it’s just so great and just what I was hoping for: someone to knock some sense into Chika.

Anyway, then Takinami gives us the first hint as to what he intended “I” to mean. To paraphrase “Stop focusing only on what the others mean to you, and begin to think about what you mean to them.” This is something that pretty much everyone in the club has a problem with. They care about each other so much, will stand up for each other, but they don’t think about the fact that all the others care about them just as much. Takinami is trying to shift the focus from “these people are important to me” to “what do I mean to them?” hoping that these oblivious teens will someday get it. This works for so many of the characters.

Firstly, let’s talk about Takezo. He’s been club president from the beginning, and he’s always been a great one but has really come into his own. I think everyone sees him as an amazing club president, a leader that holds them together and believes in all of them as a whole and individually. He doesn’t see himself that way. Takezo has the opening notes of “I”, it all starts with him just how the entire club was brought together by him. He’s explicitly stated that he sometimes wishes that someone like Satowa could begin the song because he’s worried about the fact that his is the first sound in the song. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to give a strong enough opening because he still sees himself as a bit inadequate. But how does the rest of the club see him? They see him as this strong club president, someone who’s always been there as the foundation, so why shouldn’t he be able to start the song and be it’s foundation throughout? So, it would help Takezo if he saw himself the way the rest of the club does, because then he’ll realize just what he means to them and hopefully see what they do in himself.

With Momoya, Takinami made a big deal about the fact that he needed to want to play with the club, and that he had to want it for himself. This ties back to the conversation before Ku-on that Takinami has weaved through “I”. But it was also important for Momoya to take up an identity with his sound, to decide to be something, and own up to being someone with a mutable sound. He can fit in, but it all needs to be his choice. Momoya has also never thought about what he means to the club, and they keep surprising him with how friendly they are and how much they care about him. They just want him to be himself and stay in the club. Hopefully he starts realizing that soon.

If there’s one thing that Chika is truly terrible at it’s realizing his worth, both with himself and with other people. As Tetsuki says in ch.99.5 “I bet Chika never thought that he himself could be thought of dearly by somebody else.” Chika still definitely struggles with that. He has no problem letting everyone else know how much they’re cared for, how much they’re valued, but when it comes to himself, he still doesn’t see how he could be a person someone thinks of as dear. He still sometimes gets surprised by little acts of caring. With all this stuff with Uzuki going on, he’s more worried about the wellbeing of the club, meanwhile all the members are more worried about him than the state of the club. I think that’s almost incomprehensible to Chika, and yet it’s there, and in the next chapter it will hopefully come through loud and clear just how much they all care about him, but especially Satowa as she literally won’t let him do this alone.

Satowa, too, is terrible at realizing how much she means to people, as shown by the fact that Chika and the others literally have to spell it out for her sometimes. She doesn’t like being a burden, she doesn’t want to do anything that would disrupt or upset their lives. But she doesn’t really see how much those people care about her and that when you care about someone like that it isn’t a burden. Satowa’s self-worth is low, at least in some areas, and she always puts the club over her own desires or feelings due to having hurt people before, specifically her mother. Hiro even tells her in Ch.92 that the club can withstand whatever emotions she decides to express, but Satowa doubts that. Satowa, much like Chika, needs to come to the realization that people care more about her than they do the club, and again, thinking of herself from the perspective of how much the other’s care could help her realize this and her place in the club.

Chika and Satowa both are afraid of being selfish, they don’t want to come off as selfish and they want to put other’s first, but their own feelings realistically get in the way of them being entirely selfless. As Granny says to Chika in ch.77, you have to cherish yourself to be able to give to others and it’s important to think about yourself so that you can have a life you’re happy with. So, both he and Satowa need to start thinking of themselves in a more positive way instead of thinking it’s selfish, which could be helped if they looked at how other’s care about them, which is what “I” is all about.

Now let’s talk about these two intertwining melodies, one of which will be played by Chika and Satowa and the other by Takezo and Hiro, the section Takinami seems to have set aside for the oblivious lovebirds. Takezo and Hiro have each realized, on their own, that they’re in love with each other, and yet haven’t made the connection that the other feels the same way. Part of this is preservation of the club, but seriously how do you not realize? With Satowa and Chika, it’s even more complicated, and I plan to make a full post about it, but they certainly have never really thought about how the other must feel about them. Later on in the chapter, after Chika’s conversation with Takinami, Chika literally asks Satowa what she thinks of him. Not only did Chika take in what Takinami had to say, in the only way he’d listen which is through koto song terms, he thought about it while he was having lunch with Satowa and was trying to ask her a very important question about it before they were so rudely interrupted by the reminder of just how insane Uzuki is.

I think especially for Chika, Satowa, and Takezo, (who I look at as the main trio) this message of realizing who you are to the people around you is a huge part of their journey. They all need to stop denying themselves their own feelings, which is basically what Takinami was trying to tell them with “I.”

So, I seriously wondered for a while what kind of song Takinami had written for these kids. What better meaning could it have than pushing these people to realize just how much they mean to each other and start focusing on how those they care about see them, not just the other way around? Especially for Takinami, who puts up with a lot but ultimately wants to help these kids and believes in them.

I’m really glad he gave Chika the hint though, because I truly do not believe these kids would’ve gotten what “I” is about if he hadn’t given them that push considering they all avoid thinking about how the other’s must care about them, some of them I think are even afraid to think of it. It’s so perfect and I’m so excited to see where they go with it.

ps. I’m new to posting and stuff, so please be kind.

#kono oto tomare #kono oto tomare!#kono oto tomare chapter 104 #kono oto tomare spoilers #kot #kot!#kot spoilers #kot! spoilers #kono oto tomare! spoilers #kono oto tomare manga #kot manga #kono oto tomare chapter 104 spoilers #kudou chika #hozuki satowa #takinami suzuka #kurata takezou #momoya natsu #kurusu hiro #takaoka tetsuki

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hualianff · 3 years

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More Than This

Modern AU where famous actor HC and landscaper XL meet through a dating app. HC had a reputation of being a massive flirt who bedded people left and right, which wasn’t completely wrong–just blown out of proportion. His partners were usually other celebrities who mutually swore to keep their mouths shut in the preservation of their own images.

When HC received a message on the dating app asking about the brand of the wristwatch he wore in his profile pic (which only showcased his hands), the other user hoping to purchase a cheaper, similar style for his friend’s birthday, HC responded for the first time since downloading the app.

What could he say? The other man was gorgeous and if he were simply asking just to slide into HC’s DMs, the actor wasn’t opposed.

Turns out XL asked out of genuine curiosity. FX’s birthday was still a month away. Why XL thought about gifting him a watch similar to the one the stranger wore when XL should’ve been paying attention to the sheer strength those large hands seemed to possess was beyond him.

The name in the bio read: San Lang. The few pictures that were displayed on his profile were minimalistic yet downright sexy. XL blinked in wonder as he typed out another message, hoping to continue the conversation.

Two weeks after chatting back and forth through the app, XL asked if he could meet HC in person. The actor pondered this for a grand total of thirty seconds before agreeing to meet. XL seemed like a sincere character, someone who put other peoples’ comfort above any task at hand–if his emoticon overkill and frequent check-ins with HC were anything to go by.

HC figured he’d cross the bridge once XL recognized him as a well-loved actor starring in the hottest films in the media.

Except when HC arrived in his expensive jeep that screamed wealth, dressed in appropriate clothes for a hike with a baseball cap concealing his features from far away, XL did not have an aha! moment.

“Hello, San Lang! It’s me, Xie Lian,” XL waved as he bounced his way over. “I hope the ride up the mountain wasn’t too scary. You get used to it once you begin visiting more often. Thank you for meeting with me today.”

“It’s no problem at all. Nice to meet you, Xie Lian,” HC greets, guiding them away from his car as soon as he locks the doors, not wanting to draw any onlookers’ attention.

XL gives him a kind smile, adjusting the clasp of his bamboo hat. He explains that there are three main trails and he was thinking they could take the medium-level route. Judging from his white work-out T, jean shorts, and hiking boots, HC deduces that XL spends much time outside, even when he’s not gardening for his clients.

“Lead the way, Gege,” HC says, the title naturally falling from his lips. In XL’s dating profile, his age read thirty-two, just under three years older than HC. (This was followed by a dozen tree, flower, and water emoticons.)

“Okay! Onwards.”

Following their initial meeting, HC met up with XL numerous times after, attracted to XL’s mellow and eccentric personality. Whenever it was XL’s turn to plan their time together, he brought HC to different places each time. National parks, plant nurseries, museums–places that could be considered unconventional compared to the standard meetups from dating apps.

HC’s fondness for XL only grew because of this.

Their chemistry flourished in the bedroom as well, both HC and XL eager for giving and receiving pleasure. In addition to being fuckbuddies, they quickly developed a wholesome friendship that HC never saw coming.

But then again, this was XL. Once HC got a taste, his infatuation with the landscaper shouldn’t be surprising. HC stopped seeing his other speed dials after he met XL.

One of their nights ended by watching a film, XL mentioning off-handedly how he doesn't keep up with pop culture–including popular films–but his friend SQX had begged XL to watch this one. Of course, this had to be a film HC was in, one of his most recent projects. There was no avoiding the impending reveal.

They sit side-by-side on XL’s lumpy couch, watching the movie when XL gasps as the antagonist comes into view.

That is his San Lang! On the screen!

When XL pokes HC on the bicep, asking why the actor hadn’t told him, HC simply says that “My fame isn’t important to who I am.”

To HC’s surprise, XL accepts the answer without protest, nodding.

“San Lang is San Lang, who happens to be a marvelous actor,” XL solemnly says, flashing HC a delighted smile. HC hums in content, subtly repositioning his arm so it rested on the back of the couch, curling around XL’s shoulders.

Except after the movie ended and a google search later, XL finds out that San Lang isn’t San Lang after all.

“Should I call you Hua Cheng from now on? Oh my gosh, I can’t believe I’ve been calling you the wrong name for three months now-” XL rushes out, guilt painted across his face.

“Gege, it’s fine. I used it as an alias for my profile to protect my identity,” HC explains. He reaches forward to tuck a long strand of XL’s hair behind his ear. “Besides, I quite like it when you call me San Lang.”

“Really?” XL sheepishly asks.

“Really.”

From that moment on, HC and XL clicked perfectly, learning more about each other when time permitted them to meet up. XL felt a little foolish for not knowing who HC was as a celebrity. But like HC said, his fame did not define him as a person, which XL clearly saw from the playful way he held himself when there were no cameras around.

HC matched XL’s enthusiasm in whatever activity they were doing, even if it was something XL’s previous partners couldn’t care less about. Eight months into their arrangement, XL finally admitted to himself that he had deep feelings for HC.

While they had great chemistry as friends, XL selfishly wanted more.

But how could XL ask for something more? They already agreed to keep things casual, to remain as friends who used each other to release their sexual urges. It didn’t matter how delicate HC cleaned XL up or always ran him a bath after their climaxes. It didn’t matter how HC always set out his clothes for XL to stay the night. And it didn’t matter how close HC held onto him as they slept.

XL was simply a landscaper with a passion for nature and helping others. He wasn’t built for the limelight. He was barely in the loop with societal trends, and only recently began watching the latest movies with HC–many of which HC himself acted in.

Frankly speaking, HC could have anyone he wanted. XL was the one who should be grateful HC even sought him out a second time.

XL is thirty-three now. He wanted to find someone to settle down with, to spend the rest of his life with, falling deeper in love with every single day. He was not sure HC, who was just entering his thirties and continuing to make a name for himself, would want something like that with someone like XL.

Even when every one of HC’s actions alluded that he truly cared for XL, XL had learned that hope was a dangerous thing to mindlessly cling to. XL has had past partners come into his life, then leave him like he was nothing, like none of him was worth staying for. XL didn’t think he could bear it if HC became just another name on that list.

Furthermore, XL didn’t want to put HC or his career on spot, nor put his heart in a position where it was bound to be broken.

As XL grappled with his perceived one-sided feelings, HC only allowed himself to yearn when laying on the bed in his penthouse. It was much larger than XL’s bed. It was also much lonelier.

HC was unable to grant XL the verbal confirmation of where they stood, held back by the weight of his status, which had always been his selling point alongside his hypersexualized image. Not only did HC not want to risk pressuring XL into pursuing a relationship with a celebrity, but somewhere deep inside, HC didn’t believe XL could want him for who he is–even after the year and a half they’ve known each other.

Much of HC’s self-worth had come from his accomplishments as an actor, untouchable yet fantasized by the public. Peeling back all the layers he hid behind, HC saw his true self as too ugly, damaged, and undesirable; phrases many people in his past have spat to his face, including his parents.

In HC’s mind, he had already tied XL down to their routine no-strings-attached meet-ups. While HC savored every moment he spent with XL, he didn’t want to further intrude on XL’s simple life and have the other man resent him in the end.

《II》

(Thanks to @no-one-says-hi for helping)

#tgcf #heaven official's blessing #hualian #hualian au #xie lian #hua cheng #modern au #cerdrabbles #TBC #I love them so much #they love each other too #they just need to confess uwu

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meichenxi · 3 years

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Dear ‘White guy speaks perfect X and shocks Y!’ language YouTubers: STOP

A rant about every single fucking video by Xiaomanyc and similar YouTubers all titled things like CLUELESS WHITE GUY/GIRL LEARNS [INSERT NON-WHITE LANGUAGE HERE] AND SHOCKS [INSERT PLACE].

Disclaimer: I am white British, and I am also very often a moron. I'm trying to inform myself more, and would like to learn. So let me know if there is anything I should change, anything I’ve got wrong or any terminology I can change.

So this evening I opened YouTube to get some quality Hikaru no Go content, and saw yet another video recommended to me about Xiaomanyc called Clueless white guy orders in perfect Chinese, shocks patrons and staff!!!!

Really? Really. Ok, his Chinese certainly is good - but it isn't great. And it isn’t necessarily any better than people I've seen in the higher levels of a class at university who have spent some time in China. It's solidly intermediate. That's not an insult - that level of Chinese is hard to attain, and definitely worth celebrating!! Hell, I celebrate every new word I learn. But while it may be unusual, it doesn't forgive the clickbait type videos like 'White guy speaks perfect Chinese and wows [insert place]'.

These kind of clickbait titles rest on a number of assumptions. Before I say any more, I just want to make a note about terminology. Note that ’majority’ and ‘minority’ are not necessarily helpful labels, because they imply both a) a higher number of speakers in a certain place, and b) socially prestigious in some way. Of course a language like standard Mandarin is not a minority in China, but it might be in Germany. Talking about ‘minority’ languages that have a large speaker base outside of the country, like Chinese, is also not the same as talking about languages that have been systematically surpressed by a colonising, dominant language in their original communities, like indigenous languages. In many communities, especially in colonial and post-colonial situations, the language spoken by the majority is not one of prestige at all. Or some languages may be prestigious and expected in oral contexts, but not written - and so on. I use these terms here as best I can, but don't expect them to work 100% of the time.

So let’s unpack these assumptions a little.

1) That there is something inherently more ‘worthy’ in somebody who learns languages because they want to, rather than because they have to: and that, correspondingly, the people who want to are white (spoilers: much of Europe is multilingual, and white immigrants in majority white countries also exist, as well as discrimination against them e.g. Polish people in the UK), and that those who have to learn are not (spoilers: really? There are plenty of non-white monolinguals who are either happy being monolingual, don’t have access to learning, or don’t have to learn another language but are interested in it).

2) That everybody from a certain background automatically speaks all ‘those’ languages already, or that childhood multilingualism is a free pass - spoilers, it isn’t. Achieving high levels of fluency in multiple languages is hard, especially for languages with different writing systems, because no matter how perfect your upbringing, you’re still ultimately exposed to it maximum 50% of the time of monolingual speakers. Realistically, most people get far less exposure than 50% in any of their languages. Also, situations of multilingualism in many parts of the world are far more complex than home language / social language. You might speak one language with your father and his father, another with your mother and her family, another in the community, and another at school. Which one is your native language then? Monolinguals tell horror stories of ‘both cups half empty’ scenarios, but come on - how on earth do you expect a person to have the same size vocabulary in a language they hear only 25% of the time? Also, languages are spoken in different domains, to different people, in different social situations: just because someone hears Farsi at home doesn’t mean they can give a talk on the filing system at their local library. If something is outside of a multilingual person’s langauge domain, they might have to learn the vocabulary for it just like monolinguals. There’s no such thing as the ‘perfect bilingual’.

3) That learning another language imperfectly for leisure is laudable, but learning one imperfectly for work or survival is not. If you’re a speaker of a minority language, learning another language is necessary, ‘just what you have to do’, and if you don’t do it ‘properly’, that’s because of your lack of intelligence / laziness etc. It’s cool for the seconday school student to speak a bit of bad Japanese, but not so cool for the Indian guy who runs her favourite restaurant in Tokyo.

4) That majority speakers learning a minority language is somehow an act of surprising benevolence that should not go unrewarded. Languages are intrinsically tied up with identity - and access to them may not be a right, but a gift. Don’t assume that because you get a good reception with some speakers of one language that speakers of another will be grateful you’re learning their language, or that everyone will react the same. One of the reasons these videos are possible at all is that many Chinese speakers, in my experience, are incredibly welcoming and enthusiastic to non-natives learning Chinese. Some languages and linguistic groups have been so heavily persecuted that imagining such thing as an ‘apolitical’ language learner is a fundamental misunderstanding of the context in which the language is spoken, and essentially an impossibility when the act of speaking claims ownership to a group. Many people will not want you to learn their language, because it has been suppressed for hundreds of years - it’s theirs, not yours. We respect that. Whilst it’s great to learn a minority language, don’t do it for the YouTube likes - do it because you’re genuinely interested in the language, people, culture and history. We don’t deserve anything special for having done so.

5) That speaking a ‘foreign’ (i.e. culturally impressive / prestigious) language is much more impressive and socially acceptable than speaking a heritage language, home language or indigenous language. There are harmful language policies all around the world that simultaneously encourage the learning of ‘educational’ languages like Spanish, and at the same time forbid the use of the child’s mother tongue in class. And many non-majority languages are not foreign at all - they were spoken here, wherever you are, before English or Spanish or Russian or, yes, standard Mandarin Chinese. Policies that encourage standardised testing in English from a very young age like the ‘No Child Left Behind’ policy in the US disproportionately affect indigenous communities that are trying to revitalise their language against overwhelming callousness and cruelty - they expect bilingual children to attain the same level of English as a monolingual in first grade, which in an immersion school, they obviously won’t (and shouldn’t - they’ll get enough exposure to English as they grow up to make it not matter later down the line). But if the schools want funding, their kids have to pass those tests.

There’s more to cover - that’s just the tip of the iceberg.

Some people’s response to these videos and why the titles are ‘wrong’ would be: does it matter that he's white? Shouldn't it just be 'second language learner speaks perfect Chinese'? This is the same sort of attitude as ‘I don’t see race’. I think it does matter that he is white - because communities of many languages around the world are so used to them having to learn a second language and colonial powers not bothering to learn theirs. You wouldn't get the same reactions in these videos if he were Asian American but grew up speaking / hearing no Chinese - because then it would be expected. You also wouldn't get the same reaction if he were an immigrant in a Chinese-speaking community from somewhere else in Asia.

It also implies that all white people = monolingual Americans with no interest in other cultures. While we all are complacent and complicit in failing to educate ourselves about the effects of historical and modern colonialism, titles like this perpetuate a very harmful stereotype - and I don't mean harmful as in 'poor Xiaomanyc', but harmful in that it suggests that this attitude is ok, it's part of 'being white', and therefore doesn't need to change. The reaction when someone doesn't engage with other cultures and isn't willing to learn about them shouldn't be 'lmao classic white guy'. That not only puts the subject in a group with other 'classic white guys', but puts a nice acceptable label on what really is privilege, a lack of curiosity, ignorance, and the opportunity (which most non-white people don't have) to have everything you learn in school and university be about you. If you're ignorant - ok. We are all about many things. But you don't have any excuse not to educate yourself. The 'foreigner experience' that white people get in places like China is not the same as immigrants in a predominantly monolingual, predominantly white English speaking area. As we can see in those kind of videos, white foreigners may be stared at, but ultimately enjoy huge privilege in many places around the world. It's not the same.

It also ignores, well, essentially the whole of Europe outside the UK and Ireland and many other places around the globe, where multilingualism is incredibly common - and where the racial dichotomy commonly heard in America isn't quite appropriate, or an oversimplification of many complex ethnic/national/racial/religious/linguistic etc factors that all influence discrimination and privilege. Actually many 'white guys' in Europe and places all around the world speak four or five languages to get by - some in highly privileged upbringings and school systems, yes, but others because they have grown up in a border town, or because they are immigrants and want to give their children a better start than they did, or because they want to work abroad and send home money. Many, like people all around the world, don't get a chance to learn to read and write their first language or dialect, which is considered 'lesser' than the majority language (French, Russian, English etc); many people, like Gaelic speakers in Scotland or speakers of Basque in France, have faced historical persecution and have been denied opportunities for speaking their mother tongue. My mother was beaten and my grandparents denied jobs for being Gaelic speakers. They are white, and they have benefited from being white in lots of other ways - but their linguistic experience is light-years from Xiaomanyc's.

It isn't 'white' to be surprised at a white person speaking another language - it's just ignorant. But the two ARE correlated, because who in modern America can afford to go through twenty one years and still be ignorant? People who have never had to learn a second language; people who have always had everybody adapt to THEIR linguistic needs, and not the other way around. People who have had all media, all books, centred around people who look like them and speak like them. And even in America, that's not just 'white' - that's specifically white (often middle class) English monolinguals.

I'm not saying everybody who doesn't speak a language should feel guilty for not learning one ( it's understandably not the priority for everyone - economic reasons, family, only so many hours in the day - there are plenty of reasons why language learning when you don’t have to is also not accessible to everyone). But be aware of the double standards we have as a society towards other socially/racially/religiously disadvantaged groups versus white college grads. You can't demonise one whilst lauding the other.

To all language YouTubers - do yourself a favour, and stop doing this. Your skills are impressive - that's enough.

tldr; clickbait titles like this rely on double standards and perpetuate harmful ideas - don't write them, and let your own language skills do the talking please.

#linguistics #lingblr #racism #sociolinguistics #languages #langblr #polyglot community #I don't really know what to tag this as #chinese #xiaomanyc #taking a break from my break to clearly post about two (2) things #hualian over on main and this here #meichenxi manages

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stennnn06 · 4 years

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supercorp 83

83- another sleepless night, huh? writing prompts

and here is the post reveal version of this prompt. i guess we could say it’s somewhere toward the finale, where instead of hand shakes and agreeing to take on lex, they actually ya know... make up. bonus (helpful?) andrea rojas because i do what i want.

Kara slams the backspace key of her laptop in frustration. She watches the letters of the few words she's written get swallowed whole, returning her to the beginning. It's almost midnight, and she's no closer to finishing this stupid article for Andrea than when she started. She sighs loudly, staring at the screen. She doesn't want to write about millennial fashion, or any fashion for that matter, but she has no choice. Andrea made it clear that she's on a limited beat, and an even tighter leash, and all of it is just impossible.

"Burning the midnight oil, Ms. Danvers?" Andrea's voice drifts over the quiet din. There's no one else in the office, which means no one to run interference from Andrea's prying eyes. Kara doesn't want to talk to her boss, and she definitely doesn't want to give an update. She wants to stew over her blank document in peace, and let her mind drift over more important things. She doesn't want to face Andrea's smiling scrutiny, or her sarcastic tone, or think about the way she reminds her so much of Lena that she wants to rip her own hair out.

Kara grits her teeth in frustration, nodding silently. "Yep," she mutters, keeping her face trained on her laptop. Andrea appears at her door in seconds.

"Well, you're just full of surprises, aren't you?"

Kara huffs. It's condescending, and she knows it. Andrea thinks she's lazy, and argumentative, and honestly, maybe she's right. Kara is tired of caring. She isn't here to please Andrea. She thought journalism was about something more -- about relentlessly pursuing a story no matter what, in order to expose the truth. Instead, she's writing about "athleisure" and answering reader questions about high waisted jeans. She ignores Andrea and glances at her phone. She hasn't had a text message in hours, not even from Alex. It's a quiet night in National City and she should be thankful, but really she's just anxious. There's a familiar name in her phone that hasn't reached out in so long, it's beginning to feel infinite. She doesn't know if she and Lena will ever get back to where they were, even if they aren't truly at odds anymore. Maybe there has been too much said, maybe there has been too much damage done. The lack of closure is enough to drive her to distraction. But her phone remains silent, with only the clock to keep her company.

11:45 and silent.

"I'm glad to see you working hard on this," Andrea says again, blithely unaware of Kara's attempts to deflect her conversation.

"Yep, just focused on this deadline," Kara says through gritted teeth, not even trying to hide her annoyance. Andrea only comes around when she wants something, so Kara braces for a bizarre request. She's not in the mood to play nice or get into an extended conversation, but she also can't afford to get fired.

Andrea pauses at the threshold, pursing her lips. Kara feels the way she lingers, but she chooses to ignore it.

"Can I give you some advice?" Andrea eventually asks, approaching slowly. It's rhetorical, Kara knows. She's going to say whatever she wants anyway. Kara's cheeks go hot. She wants to tell her to mind her business. That no, she's fine in the advice department, thanks. But instead, she simply looks up and offers a blank stare.

"Go see her," Andrea says directly. "Don't let time pass you by."

"What do you--"

"I've known Lena for longer than most--" Andrea interrupts. The way she says Lena's name stops Kara from arguing. "And I've hurt her more than anyone."

"I'm not sure about that," Kara mumbles, rolling her eyes.

"Trust me," Andrea insists. She takes a step in toward Kara's desk, which forces Kara's attention to float to her face. Andrea's eyes are cast down, and she chews on her lip the way she does when she's particularly displeased. "It pains me to say this, but I know how she feels about you."

"What do you mean?" Something shifts in Kara's chest at the suggestion.

Andrea's eyebrow raises sharply. "Don't make me spell it out, Kara. You're not as naive as everyone thinks."

"Okay," Kara gulps.

"She's already forgiven you," Andrea says matter-of-factly. "She just needs help admitting it."

"I don't know," Kara says, her heart rate picking up considerably. Can she really trust Andrea to be acting in her best interest? "Why are you helping me?"

"It's not for you," Andrea says sharply. She glances at her watch, clicking her tongue. She looks back at Kara, her mouth slightly open in exasperation. "What are you waiting for?"

Kara slaps her laptop closed. "Thanks, Andrea," she says, shouldering past her in an effort to get to the elevator before Andrea reconsiders.

"Thank me by finishing that article."

It's been ages since Kara has gone to Lena's apartment as herself. As Kara. She toys with the idea of landing on the balcony with her cape billowing slightly behind her, but it doesn't feel right. She doesn't want the crest. Not tonight.

She lands softly and discards the suit, opting for the front entrance. A new beginning, as herself.

It's past midnight by the time she approaches, but Lena’s light is on, as always. Kara knocks softly.

There's a quiet rustling, and a muffled "Who is it?" behind the door. Kara clears her throat.

"It's me," she says, her voice cracking. "It's--"

The door opens before she can finish.

"Kara," Lena breathes, her eyes wide with surprise. "Is everything okay?"

"Hi," Kara says quickly. Her mouth is terribly dry. Sometimes she forgets just how stunning Lena is. Especially when she hasn't seen her for awhile. It's always unnerving, no matter how many times it happens. "Yes! Yes, everything is fine. I just noticed your light was on. Another sleepless night, huh?" Kara chuckles nervously, unsure what to do. She didn't actually plan before coming over here, which is glaringly obvious now that she's nervous and tongue tied.

"You seem surprised," Lena says softly, a teasing smile on her lips. "Do you want to come in?"

"Thanks," Kara says, relieved. She follows Lena into her apartment, over to her couch. They haven't sat on it together since Kara thought they were still friends, when she tried to make up for her transgressions by bringing her all her favorite foods. The memory aches in her chest.

They sit in awkward silence, fidgeting amongst themselves until they both start speaking.

"I--"

"Kara--"

Lena's cheeks flush an attractive crimson, and Kara's entire body feels molten. They both bring their eyes sheepishly to the ground, careful to avoid disrupting each other again.

"You can go," Kara insists after a pause.

Lena studies her hands, working her fingers delicately. Her wrist flexes, and Kara is mesmerized. She always had the loveliest, most capable hands. Lena catches her eye finally.

"You aren't wearing your glasses," Lena muses, and it’s so unexpected that Kara unconsciously brings her hand to her eyes. It's a journey of emotions -- first, fear that she's forgotten something crucial, that she's showed up completely unprepared and wrong. But then the cold realization that there are no more walls between them, and what it means, settles in her gut. She lets her hand hang down slowly. "I'm still getting used to it," Lena explains softly.

"I'm sorry--"

"No," Lena shakes her head, smiling. "It's nice. I'm just-- I'm glad you came."

"Me too."

There's an awkward silence, and all Kara can hear is the humming of the dishwasher, an indicator that Lena's out of scotch tumblers. Which means she isn't doing so great, either.

"I wasn't ready to forgive you, before," Kara says, trying to square her shoulders and find the strength to confront this. "After everything, and all the lies, I just kept expecting you to let me down with another con. And you didn't. You just kept showing up, over and over, and I-- I wanted so badly to go back to how we were. But I didn't know if I could get hurt like that again."

"You didn't deserve that," Lena says, hanging her head.

"Neither did you."

"I got lost in the madness of it all. I've always been susceptible," Lena smiles wickedly, her self-deprecation on display. She sighs, her eyes softening. "Part of me kept waiting for you to rescue me."

Kara frowns, her pulse racing. "But I tried -- I did everything I knew how--"

Lena's mouth twitches, her chin quivering. "Not Supergirl." She swallows hard. "You."

Kara's mouth hangs open... She thinks of all the times after - how almost every single time she saw Lena after confessing her identity, she was National City's hero. She was Supergirl, and she was free of pretending -- but in the process, she was someone unknown. It was always heavy, their interactions always pleading and begging on behalf of greater interests, never just them.

"Lena," Kara's voice quivers. "But it was always me."

"Was it?"

Kara hesitates. She isn't sure how to answer that.

"What did you say when you told me why you kept it from me for so long?" Lena asks, her eyes welling with tears. "I was so angry at Supergirl-- but I loved Kara." Lena hesitates, taking a watery breath. "I've always loved Kara."

It hits like a hurricane, and Kara has to remember how to breathe. She inhales sharply. Lena doesn't say anything more.

"And now?" Kara whispers.

"And now," Lena says, smiling through her emotions. "Nothing about that has changed."

Kara's eyes fill with tears. She stands, opening her arms. She doesn't want to talk anymore. She just wants them to fall back into place, fitting together the way they did before. Lena melts into her arms and lets out a sob as she clutches Kara's back.

"I love you, too," Kara whispers into the space between her ear and her neck, holding her as close as possible. "Always."

#supercorp #this is like if you watched ep 1 and then the supercorp fall out ep and then skipped to the end lmao #writing prompts #thanks for sending!#Anonymous #sten says

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