#and it's always non-latine white people

[knifewieldingenby]

"Well Vico is a Spaniard so they don't get to talk about racism"

"Wow they're the only valid Spaniard tbh"

"I know Vico is a spaniard but I still love them"

"They're basically white, so..."

Foes.....they're Puerto Rican. "But they probably have some spaniard in them" yeah that's been known to happen with colonization, but that doesn't make them spaniard. They're Puerto Rican, they're a person of color, they deal with racism, they're allowed to talk about it, and if you "love them" so much you need to shut the fuck up and listen.

Oh, also? There are Spaniards of color! They don't deserve to be erased and told that they don't get to talk about the racism they face.

[bookwyrminspiration]

since you’re talking about languages. just wanted to say im thinking about cajun french again. my mon-mon knows it and I could technically ask her to teach me a few words but it’s different than growing up with it y’know?

Oh BOY do I know. it's like...we are going to spend the rest of our lives with this ache. There is no undoing the fact we did not learn our heritage languages as children. Learning it later in life, even if we become completely and entirely fluent, does not and cannot ever change that we had to work for it. That we had to recreate it and that we will never and cannot ever come close to what could have been

There's this hurdle when learning it too--at least in my experience--where you feel like an impostor. And there is so much shame--for something completely out of our control; we had no say in what languages we were taught as kids. I'm always straining and listening to what others say--how they've shortened words colloquially, what versions they use more (e.g. oraciones vs sentencias), because that ease and experience and familiarity in conversation in others is something I don't have. They own the language enough to shape it to themselves, and I'm just trying to keep up. It doesn't feel like my language, doesn't roll off my tongue. I don't dream in it.

But I could have. And it's so hard, maybe even impossible, to forget that. Even when you learn it

[genderqueerdykes]

I hate that people tend to picture a white person in their mind when they think of non-binary people, because the vast majority of non-binary people I've met have been other people of color. among my friends who identify as nonbinary, genderqueer, genderfluid, gender non conforming, agender, multigender, and "other" genders, the people who identify this way the most are my black, Latine, indigenous & Asian friends. yes I have white nonbinary friends, but most of my nonbinary friends are people of color. I'm a nonbinary person of color. this is not a white phenomenon - include us in your representation, because there's loads of us, and we've always been there.

[menlove]

hey can you please explain it to us? like how are we supposed to just understand? why would a large ethnic minority vote for an open racist who hates them? this is not intuitive

wasn't trying to imply you're just supposed to understand- sorry, it's just always a lil bit of a uh bitter inducing moment when this topic comes up bc it makes it really obvious that a lot of people just don't engage w the latine community

but basically, most latines are conservative christian. usually catholic (my family isn't catholic, though my grandmother was raised that way). a solid majority of them are one issue voters, usually on the issue of abortion because many catholics & conservative christians are one issue abortion voters.

there's also the immigration issue. a lot of these conservative latines do in fact care about better immigration reform, but a lot of them also have this attitude of "I did it legally, so why can't you?" so they don't even see themselves as a PART of the group being targeted. and if they do and they take issue with it, they tend to go "okay, but the republicans agree with me on everything else and I can't in good moral conscience vote for the other party who disagrees with everything I stand for as a moral christian"

and while many latines have voted blue over immigration in the past, harris leaned pretty heavily right on the immigration issue so it's like. to them. are you choosing the guy who agrees with you on everything but immigration, or the woman who disagrees with you on everything Including immigration?

and then you also have to get into the race of it all because race is beyond complicated in this case. non-black latines sit in a weird in between space with whiteness. to the right, we're white when we're Good. to the left, we're white when it's a Problem. whiteness is conditional. and this is the case for many demographics, but it's especially relevant here. when people sit on that edge of whiteness, they WILL throw each other and other minorities under the bus to earn the protection of whiteness. so you know. behave, vote red, show yourselves to be moral, legal citizens, and MAYBE you'll be granted the protection of being considered white in america. and we aren't. but that doesn't stop people from trying. even taking my dad as an example, I grew up with him talking about how much he hated white people. today, he's out here calling himself a proud white man who voted for trump. it's conditional. and people know whiteness is a protection. naturally, this leads to a lot of antiblackness in the community as well as just racism in general.

it just boils down to latines by and large being conservative christian/catholic and voting based on that rather than viewing themselves a minority race. and being way way more split on the immigration issue than people might imagine, because I've absolutely heard it parroted time and time again that "I got here legally, so can they"

[blueberryarchive]

RECORDING (+18)

Were you move in to Montenegro Hills. A peaceful neighborhood with caring neighbors and walking dogs at 6pm.

The night of the welcome party, you meet Park Jimin: the president of the neighborhood committee. After a few shots and a little bit of flirting, he makes a proposal you thought you'll never hear from anyone in your life.

▶pairing; stalker!jimin x fem!reader

▶word count; 13.4k

▶genre: 80's au, enemies and lovers, thriller

▶tw; grammar mistakes (english is not my first language), horny!jimin all the way, your boy Hoseok it's a freak too, gore scenes (blood, wounds, death, descriptions of pain and bodily fluids), toxic relationship, smut (dub-con/non-con, penetration, knife play, degrading names, manhandling, spanking, fingering, choking, mating position) everyone in here is a piece of shit ngl, misogyny, mentions of drugs and alcohol.

▶playlist; 📼

Record, the verb, comes from the word cor or cord in Latin, which means heart or remember, which in itself is beautiful. To repeat over and over again, to keep track of it, to save it in the memory. Save is one of his favorite words to describe what he does. Salvus as in to keep safe, in both senses. 

There's nothing more precious to him than his collection of VHS tapes in the little room in the hall. All were put in alphabetical order and cleaned every Friday when he was free from work.

To watch every movie again and again, to remember the little details to heart, the dialogues, the gestures; he loved it. He loved taking care of it.

Now, it was Friday and, you see, as he was in the row from D to H, he heard one of the most precious pieces close the door abruptly of her Ford Cortina, just right outside of his house. He walked slowly through the hall of the rather dark place, the curtains were closed most of the time. His neighbors took it for privacy. 

Jimin was a very quiet and sheltered man, but he was very polite and helpful. Always there in Montenegro's activity programs, charity funds, birthdays, and Christmas parties. He helped with the food, made the kids laugh, and the wives adored him. Jimin was the best neighbor, and he worked hard for it. 

As he moved closer, his finger brushed the hem of the curtain in the living room, letting the sunlight paint a streak across his face. His eye settled on your feet, more like the heels. Who moved in with heels on?

You were wearing slingback pumps and a little pencil skirt, coming straight from work. Tired and all sweaty in the middle of the summer, when people remember why they don't like the heat in the first place. Jimin enjoyed it. It made people come out of their houses and forage for a little bit of shadow and conversation.

The white blouse you wore, had a little white bow that made you look like a dainty Victorian doll. The translucent blobs forming under your armpits were beginning to drip sweat down the sides of your ribs. You took a small carry-on suitcase from the co-pilot and closed the door putting on your dark, cat-shaped sunglasses. Chanel, so you also had money. The prices in Montenegro are not cheap by any means, but the people here are all so subtle in the ways they show it, with guilt and tight lips. But you weren't afraid to show that you could afford things, that maybe you loved the sound of pearls on your wrists and the sweet smell of Angel by Mugler on your clothes.

If he wasn't in his pajamas, Jimin would have opened his door to introduce himself just to let his nose feel the pleasure of your aroma in that heat.

Jimin knew that you were going fast and that you didn't want anyone to know about your arrival until you were in better condition. He looked at his wristwatch, it was barely five in the afternoon, and he didn't know if there was time. 

One way or the other.

He grabbed the corded phone near his couch and plopped down crossing his legs. With one hand he dialed a number so quickly that his fingers seemed to move automatically.

With the other, he searched for a roll in his work suitcase. It took less than the ringing of the call to put the film into the camera, a '72 Olympus, a beauty that belonged to his mother.

"Mm." answered a scratchy voice, Hoseok wasn't in the mood and that wasn't a good start.

"Hoseok, I need you to convince Nancy to have a party tonight, well, maybe not tonight but-." he put the phone between his shoulder and his ear, walking to the window. You were still inside, but the Cortina door was still open.

"What do you want me to do? She won't do anything until she's six months in." Hoseok exhaled. "Why a party? Who is it this time?"

Jimin wrinkled his nose, focusing the camera just as you went out to close the door. A single suitcase of clothes, your Chanel glasses, and your blurred lipstick. You were a work of art, he had to convince Hoseok to create an excuse.

"Park," Hoseok mumbled as the bustle of his office sounded on the other end of the line.

"Let's meet the new neighbor."

"Neighbor? I haven't heard Nancy speak of a neighbor at any time."

Click, just as you close the door. Click, the strokes of your hands and your quick steps.

"I'm seeing her now."

"Now? Is she already with you?" Hoseok sounded hurt, offended. His annoyance changed to a muffled, nasal voice.

"No, I wouldn't meet anyone without you, Jung." Jimin chuckled, his cheekbones popping with the jeer in his voice. "She's in front, where the Jimenez used to live."

"Yeah, okay—You better not." Hoseok interrupted.

Jimin closed the curtain and looked at the door at the end of the hall, three locks keeping it secure.

"So will you talk to Nancy?"

"Let's see, the hormones have her in a frenzy and she still forbids me to even drink, smoke or fuck her. I'm going insane." Nancy was Hoseok's wife, she was a sweet and calm girl, she always smiled and her voice reminded Jimin a lot of Shelley Duvall. A sheep with deep black eyes, like two dark lakes. She was Hoseok's jewel. Park didn't believe how sweet Hoseok could be with her, knowing how he could be outside his bubble, he pampered her fervently and always saw her like searching for scrapes and bruises.

Jung Hoseok was the perfect husband. Handsome and caring, made everyone light up with his contagious laughs.

They were one of the most beloved couples in Montenegro. Nancy was in charge, not officially but popularly, as the person who organized the parties. They were always the best. The best-grilled meats, iced tea, and the best conversations after a mojito or two. It was in these places that Jimin caught the big fish. But since Nancy's pregnancy, things have been quiet in the Jung household.

Nancy had become paranoid, barely leaving the house, walking around the patio of her house barefoot and in nightgowns. The women of her family tended to lose pregnancies easily, and every time she had a pregnant friend, or anyone for that matter, she treated them like porcelain, hundreds of tips on how to take care came out of her heart-shaped lips.

Now that it's her turn to be the pregnant one, she doesn't wear tight clothes and doesn't go upstairs. She eats hot things if Hoseok cooks because she's afraid of the stove. She thinks that her body, due to an uncontrolled impulse, will throw itself into the flames.

Convincing her wouldn't be easy, but Jimin hadn't seen her neighbors in a while, and seeing you caused his chest to shrink with curiosity. You were attractive, even when you thought you weren't.

Hours passed without any sign of life, dead hours in which Jimin decided to work on developing the photos he had taken of you. The pungent smell of vinegar and chemicals in the small room bathed in red light. His hands covered in black latex immersed the piece of paper in the water until the image appeared like a cloud of grays: your face, your hands, your hair sweating. Such a recent memory and he had already missed it.

He held the photo closer to the hanging light bulb, it was perfect. Even though it had come out a little blurry, he told himself that it made him want to have it more, the two minutes it had taken you to get there, close the windows, take out your suitcase, and look around you were fleeting. So having a small detail, like a photograph of a bird that was believed to be extinct or that of a very distant planet. He began to be fond of your nebulous figure.

His first frame of you.

Two clamps held the material on the cord so it could finish drying. The ringing of the phone brought Jimin out of his hedonism, he didn't wait for it to ring twice. Now, the words Hoseok said as he picked up the phone made the man smile.

"Saturday, 6 p.m. At my house." God bless Hoseok's convincing tactics. He must have made up an article in the newspapers about how Boston University theorized that a lack of communication with the outside world could cause hormonal problems and even affect the psyche of the fetus.

Wait…Saturday?

"You say tomorrow? It's too early, I don't have anything prepared yet."

Hoseok laughed. "No, moron, next week."

Jimin took off his gloves, disappointed with how little effort his partner had put into his work.

"That's a whole week away."

"You should suck my dick for getting something in the next four months."

"If you weren't as useless and ate her out, you would have had it by this Sunday, at least."

Hoseok bit the inside of his cheek, twirling a pen in his fingers. His eyes were arranged in a corner of his office, and with a sigh, his legs spread out. "Describe her to me."

Jimin smiled searching for a cigarette in the kitchen, the phone in his hand, the cord jumping a little by his steps. He switched the phone to his other ear as he turned on the tip. "She's not a Maeve, she's not your typical Montenegro mom, maybe more like a workaholic like Charlie."

"Any children?" Hoseok interrupted excitedly.

"No, I don't think so. She has a very… disorganized style for being a mom."

"Divorcee?"

"I don't think this woman spent more than six months with the same man." Both men laughed, Jimin brought the cigarette to his mouth but stopped mid-action when he saw a shadow pass through the living room window. "Wait." Jimin put down the phone and walked into the hallway. The VHS were arranged, shiny and neat, on the right shelf.

They hadn't knocked on the door.

Knock, knock.

Jimin raised his shoulders tensely. It was you? Could it be true that Jimin was lucky enough to not have to poison you with chemicals until he dragged you into his bed? That he didn't need Hoseok's charms to convince you that what they were doing was sick, but he just needed a little alcohol, a little bit of will from you, too.

He walked quickly to the door and opened the handle with so much pressure that it made noise. The young girl on the other side of the door flinched, opening her eyes like a frightened bird before smiling at the man who was sweating at the front door. 

This is Cosette, for the second time this week.

If Jimin didn't know how to control himself, Cosette would have been planted in the garden serving as fertilizer a long time ago. He fervently hated teenagers, of all types: athletic ones, Star Wars fans, those who went to his movie theater to make out with their boyfriends for the three hours of the Gone With the Wind special, those who drove in their parents' Chevelle speeding through the streets; all of them. Especially those from Montenegro.

Cosette wasn't part of any of the groups mentioned, but don't let her think that Jimin hated her any less. Cosette, who had a strange taste in everything, including her social circle, was at her door. Her hair was always in a high bun, her bangs covered her forehead, a jean jacket that hid her body, and bright pink lips that made Park's eyes water.

She always carried something new with her, something for Jimin to notice and talk about. This time, she had a kerchief tied around her head colored in a nauseating green. She smiled even more when she saw that Jimin was only wearing an unbuttoned t-shirt.

He looked in the direction of your house, the curtains still closed. Shit.

"Cosette," he greeted her, pressing his lips into a smile. He refused to look at her bow so she wouldn't mention it either.

"Mr. Park, today is Friday. I wanted to bring you the films you lent me so you can clean them up and keep them organized." Her voice was tremulous as she blatantly looked at Jimin's arms and chest.

"Thank you," his eyes narrowed as he held up the stack of rectangular drawers his neighbor handed him. "I'll definitely have something by Cronenberg or Kubrick for you next week."

Cosette blushed aggressively. "Dad says Kubrick is just an excuse to watch women being-"

Her words stuck in her throat as Jimin's dark pupils sat on her features, lips slightly parted.

"It's sex, Cosette." Jimin exhaled, leaving the VHS on a table. "Nothing is going to happen to you if you see it, much less if you say it." His hand went to the girl's shoulder, her fingers curling around themselves anxiously.

"Yes, obviously. I know that. " The girl looked down, letting silence cover time. "Do you think I can help you with cleaning your collection this week?"

Jimin smiled sweetly and denied. This was Cosette's way of wanting to interfere in his life or maybe she thought something would happen if she stood in the middle of his living room and closed the door. What a poor fool, she really made him feel sorry for her. That's why he tried to find a healthier and legal connection.

Jimin lent him five movies to watch from Monday to Friday. They all had a theme: Italian horror, neosurrealism, buddy films, western, romance…

She watched them all religiously. Sometimes she even took advantage and went to the cinema to watch it even when she had the same movie at her house. Just to see Jimin.

"Sorry, darling. I already finished doing that this morning."

"Oh, I understand." Cosette nodded stupidly quickly, taking a step back. "It's okay, Mr. Park."

"See you on Monday."

Colette did not respond, raising a hand as she turned her face away to get away as quickly as possible from the shame that consumed her. A small mocking laugh appeared on Jimin's lips and he took out his hidden arm from behind the door, revealing the disintegrating cigarette.

His heart dropped to his stomach when his eyes flicked to your porch and there you were, in the same position as him. Cigarette hanging from your lips, your damp hair combed back and eyeliner singed into your dark circles.

Not at all a mother from Montenegro, not a daughter, not even the whores that the divorced men brought in looked as broken and disoriented as you. Jimin’s heart pounded when your eyes never left his as you took a drag. Smoke billowing out of your nose. You didn't smile or extend your hand to say hello like a good neighbor, instead, you looked at Jimin suspiciously, closing the door seconds later.

Jimin raised his eyebrow. What had he done? Worried, he closed the door quickly, head resting on the wood. He cursed Cosette under his breath as he walked to the phone in the kitchen.

"Hoseok?"

"Don't tell me. Marcus' little girl."

"I get a headache every time I hear her babbling."

"Don't be so cruel, she admires you a lot."

Jimin closed his eyes, your gaze had hurt his fragile ego, and he had to know why you were so hostile between two and a half puffs of your cigarette.

That week was about to be lethargy, hell, Dante's tenth circle.

Day 1

Movie in theaters: Ghostbusters The curtains are still closed, I can see your silhouette at night, and the lights you use are dim. Halogen, you like calm environments, corners covered in soft shadows. You play music from the moment you get home from work, 5:15 without fail; you usually leave it on when you leave again.  Every day, you come back with a paper bag, I assume with groceries. 5.45. You are wearing a leotard in one of those colors that Cosette likes so much. Perky titties bouncing while you take down the porch stairs;; couldn't help but take some pictures. You exercise until 6:40, then, ironically, smoke a cigarette or two in the yard. Smiling at people while pearls of sweat dribble down to your cleavage. Zuri is the first one of the committee to see you and waves her hand with curiosity. You two talk for a little. I'm here wishing I could read lips, but even with a thorough education, yours will need a whole degree only for me to concentrate on not kissing them. I go to sleep at 11:30, one glass of whiskey and half a joint I stole from Marcus months ago. I dream of eating you out through a small cut in your leotard, sweat dripping down your body to mine. You whimper, but I can't hear you.

Day 2

Movie in theaters: Friday The 13th: Part IV At 6:25 in the morning, I wake up to the sound of your heels going down the stairs to get to your car. I can't get up fast enough to see what you're wearing for me today. You accelerate quickly, you don't care if you wake up the neighbors. You don't come back all day. After work, I watch one of my films on TV until I fall asleep, Birdie's laughter drowns out my curiosity as I doze. 5:15, you're not home from work. Maybe you went out of state, considering how you dress, you seem like a busy woman. I thought about the clicking heels and imagined your foot stepping on my erection. I go outside to calm my thoughts. One thing led to another, and without knowing it I find myself in your backyard. You're not stupid, all the doors and windows are closed; curtains included. But you don't know who I am still, what I need about you.

Day 3

Movie in theaters: The Evil That Men Do 4:55. I'm at the Millers' house, they've invited me to check out their new screen and sound system. Watching a movie with them, but due to August Miller's silent decision, we ended up at the outside bar, drunk on mojitos and pina coladas that Lou Miller learned to make with a cassette he bought at the supermarket. The cocktails are very sugary, but they help clear my head. I find myself sitting steps away from Mr. Miller. I tell him I'm writing notes for a new review in the newspaper, but all I can think about is your absence all day. There is no news from you, and I am afraid that you have decided to leave the house. I don't understand, the house is adorable. Too big for one person, but the Jiménez filled it with pets and children in less than two years. It has off-white floors and large windows to let in the light. A huge patio and pool so you can indulge in leisure activities such as gardening and nudism. 00:13, you appear with your car lights off and your arms down. You carry the same paper bag in your hands, and I accidentally smile when I have your presence. I knew having a garden in your yard would convince you to come back.

Day 4

Movie in theaters: Footloose Something that my drunken brain from yesterday had forgotten to write down, that was overlooked, or that the mojitos simply erased from my memory. I managed to open a window in your backyard. Around 6, Lou Miller, in her forties, was no longer the same when drinking and it seemed she had forgotten because getting out of the pool she vomited every cocktail and every appetizer she had made for her husband and for me. Mr. Miller, due to his age and lack of exercise, had to leave the task of helping his wife up to the room to me. There, lying on the bed like some kind of rag doll passed out and with her vomit leaving a trace in her mouth, I thought of you. Maybe because this wasn't the first time a drunk and unconscious woman was in front of me or because she simply couldn't think of anything else. I went downstairs and said goodbye as decently as I could in my tipsy state. How strange it was to be drunk in the middle of a sunset. The days seem long and with you absent, God knows I need to at least get something that reminds me of you. You made things so difficult for me but I appreciated the detail, seriously. It's been a while since I enjoyed taking out my tools to open doors. People in Montenegro take security so lightly that I don't know how there hasn't been a massive burglary in every house. My arms wobbled and my cheeks burned. Half an hour later, I could hear the click that took me to your kitchen. I didn't do anything else, things had to go little by little between us, and I was willing to take it slowly for you. You're worth it.

Day 5

The night passed me like a breeze, it hit me like a stone on my temples. The nauseating taste of alcohol and sugar on my palate. Surely my face was swollen and that wouldn't help my next plan. The mirror showed me dark circles and short red marks on my ribs and chest. Going over your fences left me like shit. I put on some sunglasses and walked to my garden, I had been negligent with my roses and grass since your arrival. I had to make a good impression, and that was the first thing you saw of me. And this is where my conversion to religion begins. The first thing I hear is those low heels, the red ones you wore the first day, then Poison by Dior collided on my sensitive, hungover nose. That aroma was so familiar, maybe Zuri or maybe on Marcus's ex's boudoir. The conversation was like out of nowhere passing through the thin fresh humidity of a cloud, I remember nothing but the white and the voice of a seraphic being speaking to me.

"Don't you think it's pretty cloudy?" It was the first thing you let out of your angelic lips. Jimin closed his eyes and let a small shy smile appear as he turned around.

You had your hair back, revealing your entire face while you squeezed your eyes shut looking at the sky. A steaming mug in hand, a floral dress that almost reached your knees.

"Good mor-"

"For sunglasses, I mean." You interrupted, bringing the cup to your mouth. Chocolate, he smelled. You weren't one to drink coffee in the morning, noted.

"I try not to let my neighbors understand how hungover I am this morning."

You weren't one of the shy ones, he knew it from the moment you looked at him talking to Cosette and he loved that. You weren't wearing a ring either, noted.

You laughed at your neighbor's confession, Park's chest widened as he inhaled the sweet melody of your laughter. What if he confessed more things to you and you ended up fucking your hungover neighbor in the garage?

"Park," he raised his hand, and you raised yours squeezing lazily while still looking at him. "Jimin Park, I'm the president of the neighborhood committee, I also write reviews for The Hours."

"Good representation of what awaits me on Saturday."

Jimin raised his eyebrow at him. He was supposed to be the one inviting you, he would come to your door with good wine and his expensive perfume on to ask you to crash a party a couple of doors down, something "impromptu."

"Ah yes, that." Park licked his lips turning off the sprinkler.

“Aren’t you going?” Was that disappointment in your voice? Oh, honey...

"It wouldn't be a party without me"

"I see that." You pointed to his glasses again. The third joke about his hangover, you were nervous.

You just looked for an excuse to see him closer, and he had to respect your courage, it would have taken him a few more weeks, and after that, he ended things quickly after convincing his... how to put it? Muse? To leave it as it is.

"Well, I have to go, Park, but it was a pleasure. See you Saturday night."

"At the Jung's house, at 8."

You smirked, your eyes taking one more scan of the boy's body before turning around and walking to your car. Your hips moved soft and firm with each step, you worked for it and he appreciated it.

Continuation of Jimin's diary. Day 5: Page crumpled and torn from the small notebook. Attached with adhesive tape.

Yes, yes, yes. I know I should have waited at least half an hour for you to leave the area to go to the back door, but seeing you up close, smelling you, and hearing your voice. They were simply the last stop on my patience. I was walking through the small forest behind your house, the path was muddy under my boots and the sky threatened to break into thick drops. I prayed that it was true so that it would cover up the evidence of yesterday and today. I opened the door again with ease and entered your kitchen, closing the door softly. You still had things in boxes and my hands were tingling to open them, but I'm smarter than that. I didn't waste time and went up to your room. I came for something, then when you invite me to dinner or watch a movie I can have the pleasure of admiring your home. I looked in the drawers, under the bed, and in the closet. Here is the list of things I took that I know you would only assume were lost in the move: a red lipstick from the Besame brand, some used black panties with a small bow in the center, a white photo of you and black, a key that I found under a chest full of rings. I have no reason to take a key without knowing what it is for, but the ribbon covered in river pearls from which it hung was so delicate that I smiled thinking of you decorating something so simple. Now, I write these pages because I have arrived safely at my desk, with all things in hand. But I must say that you gave me a tremendous scare when you arrived at the house without the vehicle. I heard banging downstairs, and the hissing of keys. Luckily I was able to escape out the window that looked right into the pine trees behind the neighborhood. I spent another hour walking around the steep path, admiring how the thick, century-old trunks swallowed me up. As I predicted, the sky turned black. The last rains of September cleaned everything I left behind. I put my hands inside my pocket and took out the panties that I had wrapped delicately. I opened them like a letter as the rain soaked my body and the fabric in my hands further. I brought its center to my face and inhaled deeply, letting my back fall onto a log. Pungent and strong was your taste, I gripped the material in my teeth as I desperately undid my pants. It's the first time I've tasted you and I couldn't contain myself for long, the rain drowning out my moans as whitish streams fell on the wet earth.

There is no collection from day 6, a simple crumpled sheet, previously wet with an unidentified liquid (among the possibilities tears, stolen perfume, human remains), marked with a lipstick that Jimin wrote with hearts in the 'i's.

If there was something that surprised Jimin every time, it was the way Nancy could prepare a party in such a short time. Her backyard became a show under incandescent light bulbs and freshly cut grass.

Jimin stepped on the silage with guilt because of how perfect it was. He looked at his white suede shoes, removing a leaf that settled on them. He wanted to be impeccable. He had cut his hair past his ears and was wearing jeans and a T-shirt tight on his arms and chest with the words: 'LOVE 1984' by Yves Saint Laurent. His biceps were something to talk about and Nancy didn't let it go unnoticed.

"Is there anyone special coming today, Park?" Her honeyed and soft voice approached Jimin, offering him the first cocktail of the night. Unlike Mrs. Miller's, Nancy's coconut mojitos were the best.

"I don't know, that's the wonderful thing about your parties. The last one the Bee Gees didn't come through that door because Jung wouldn't let you pay for it." They both laughed.

"Well, I wouldn't say the Bee Gees." She thought about it, maybe he would bring them next summer. "Cher, I love Cher. I know a friend from college who has her number."

"For God's sake, Nan."

Jimin smiled again, looking at Nancy's profile: her face was as delicate as her voice. Her hooked nose curved gently and her lips pursed, seeing what else he could arrange before the others arrived. Her hand unconsciously caresses her visibly bulging stomach.

"Do you know what it is?"

Nancy's eyes sparkled at the mention of her fetus. She denied it.

"Zuri is planning to hold a small celebration for me to tell me my gender in a few days."

"Ah, another party. This is where Sonny and Cher show up to say she's a girl."

Hoseok came out wearing an apron that blatantly said 'Kiss the Cook' and a pile of bloody, seasoned meats on a plate. The grill in front of him waved a nice heat as the first piece sizzled.

"You know I can't live without a good celebration." Nancy stepped back, gravitating away from the heat of the fire. "I'm going to see if I can help Lucy with the canapes."

Nancy turned around smiling an apology at Jimin who reciprocated. Without wasting time, he pulled a Marlboro out of his jeans and approached Hoseok, enjoying the warmth that covered his torso. Hoseok held a piece of bright red charcoal and brought it close to his partner's cigarette until he lit it.

"She did it again, the patio is beautiful."

"You know my Nana just needed a good excuse." Hoseok smiled, holding up the cigarette to take a drag. "Ever since I mentioned there was a new single woman in the neighborhood, they went crazy."

"Have you seen her yet?" He was somewhat suspicious that Hoseok had beaten him to invite her to his barbecue. Make no mistake, the party was the Jungs', but the purpose of the party was so that Jimin could meet you. The plan didn't work unless Jimin said it was going to happen, Hoseok was part of them but only as a proxy.

Luckily for Jimin, Hoseok shook his head in disappointment, looking at the grill.

"I heard she looked like a slut waiting to get paid for a blowjob on the sidewalk in a yellow leotard."

"Pink." Jimin interrupted, irritated by the words, sipping the mojito until he finished it. "Who told you that? Zuri?"

The day Jimin saw them talking, Zuri was wearing a friendly smile and you two had a small conversation.

"No, of course not. Zuri just said that she came home from the gym and the others-"

"Maeve," Jimin mumbled, setting the glass aside.

Hoseok smiled. "You know this happens to everyone who arrives, it happened to me and Nancy, to Marcus, to the Espositos for being Catholic in a place like Montenegro."

Christopher Esposito was a father at St. Eliam's Chapel, a small white building where few in the neighborhood went. It was California and people only believed in themselves. But, of course, Nancy had to invite them. Well, religion is not religion at the end of the day, but status.

Coming back to you.

"She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. But not beautiful in the aesthetic sense, there is something about her eyes."

Like you know something Jimin doesn't.

Hoseok raised his eyebrows at him flipping the cuts.

"Fuck, she has you in the palm of her hand."

Jimin denied listening to the commotion coming in and talking inside the house. "Tonight I will be the one who will have it in mine."

There you were, in a black high-necked dress and black boots. You smiled at everyone and shook your hand.

For a second, when Jimin brought his cigarette to his lips, you looked at him. He to you. Both smiled before each one went back to his work.

Let the show begin.

Glasses slowly piled up on the wooden table that Nancy had impeccably decorated about four hours ago, plates with bones and half-eaten vegetables.

The music was loud but the voices shouting stories from the past about alcoholism and deranged adolescence were even louder.

Jimin was sitting next to the unlit grill, the subtle smell of burning charcoal and meat had him nauseous. He brought his knuckles to his lower lip as he watched you talking to Hoseok and Nancy, an impeccable smile on your lips, you looked like a little angel; anyone would steal you from that place. 

Several of the husbands had taken a glance or two at your legs and swallowed your flirtatious, drunken laughter. You only drank wine and the tinted mark of alcohol covered your lips. So kissable and unattainable.

Hoseok had already taken a look at your hands, they were one of his favorite features. Luckily for him, your hands were decorated with rings and varnish the color of the wine you drank.

Nancy laughed at a joke you said, you blinked slowly looking at the woman in front of you with the concentration that only being drunk gives you. Hoseok looked back and nodded at Jimin. It was time.

"Could you get our guest another glass of wine, love?" Hoseok took your glass and Nancy nodded still laughing at the story you told her about your childhood.

Hoseok placed a hand on your back guiding you through the people. You let him, who knew that a couple of drinks could give you so much fluidity?

Still, you felt this tickling in your neck since you arrived.

"Are you enjoying the party?" Hoseok was one of those men that you watched your friend marry and sometimes you wished you had that kind of stability. Nice, he made you laugh, he protected you.

You nodded to the question.

"I'll introduce you to a few committee members, they're excited to meet you."

They both made way for a blonde woman with eyes so blue that you couldn't stop looking at them throughout the conversation, the green shadow on her eyelids was so singed that it looked like a healing bruise.

"This is Maeve."

"Oh, dear, welcome." Her body felt tense in the hug she offered you.

When she let you go, she once again engineered that smile that seemed to hurt her to extend. You looked where her gaze was guided: two children dressed alike were running around near the pool.

"Come back here." She murmured, pointing to the area where the other children were.

"Maeve is in charge of children's events and birthdays. She is an artist."

"Oh, Hoseok, please." Maeve rolled her eyes at her enjoying the compliment. "Why didn't you bring your children, dear?"

"I don't have any, work won't let me." You smiled. Maeve raised her eyebrows.

"And your husband, he also works a lot? He should have at least stopped by to say hello-"

"There is no husband either."

Hoseok licked his lips enjoying the shock on Maeve's face.

"Oh okay." She laughed softly, fixing his pearl necklace. "I mean, things aren't like they used to be." Maeve sought support from Hoseok. You also looked at the man next to you who almost choked in his drink.

"America," Hoseok explained, taking a swig of brandy that made his nose wrinkle.

"God, yes. It's like it doesn't belong to the man anymore." You laughed hard, you didn't know where so much energy came from but you were static, you could feel every look and every touch.

Every look.

"California has become Sodom in just ten years."

"Oh, there's Zuri and Charlie!"

Hoseok grabbed your arm and dragged you away from Maeve's quips. Two women were sitting near the pool, the black woman fixed her glasses and continued the conversation. Her hands were intertwined with the brunette's in front of her. You didn't want to interrupt but Hoseok didn't give you time.

"This is Zuri and Charlie Munson."

The hairs on the back of your neck perked up as you heard another voice behind you. You couldn't tilt your head because the two women stopped to shake your hand. He was just who you wanted to see.

"You came," you mumbled to Jimin as you squeezed the taller girl's hand. She was beautiful.

"Charlie, this is our new neighbor." Jimin placed both hands on your shoulders, massaging discreetly. You were breathing hard as you tried to hide a smile. The pads of his fingers hit the tense spots.

Charlie was tall, the square glasses covering half of her face. Seeing Jimin, her calm expression soured. You gave her your hand and smiled at Zuri who stood behind her like a little girl.

"Charlie's a lawyer, in case you one day end up getting a DUI like me." Jimin laughed, you didn't know if it was a joke. If you saw Zuri's reaction, yes. If you saw Charlie's, well he had simply said that he ran over a child or something.

"Zuri is-"

"I already met Zuri on one of my outings to my patio."

"Oh perfect." You smelled divine and the brandy was starting to feel like the plan could go well without the help...no, in fact, without Jung's presence.

"I work for Martines & Sons," Charlie spoke again.

Your eyebrows raised in surprise still with Charlie's hand in yours.

"Martines & Sons, you're not just any lawyer then. I know one of the sons, David has told me a lot about you." You responded. Charlie smiled proudly, fixing her glasses. Was that blush Jimin saw on Charlotte Munson's cheekbones? Oh, you were a top whore, you flirted with Charlie in front of her own wife and poor Zuri didn't notice.

You and Charlie lasted a short silence smiling at each other.

"Zuri is a piano teacher." his wife stammered, letting the woman with the long, poorly dyed hair shake your hand. She wore necklaces of different colors and a ring that almost covered her index finger with a purple stone. "She graduated from Stanford."

Barely, Jimin told himself.

Before they can continue the conversation, Maeve calls out to the two women. Perfect.

The music was loud enough for Jimin to have the excuse of brushing your ear with his swollen lips from biting them so much.

"That's Marcus," he murmured, letting the warmth of his breath caress your lobe. You closed your hands into a fist, wetness pooling instantly inside your silk underwear.

Marcus was like a Jesus if he had become a writer. His hairy knuckles held a cigarette about to burn his skin, he didn't talk to anyone but instead admired the water of the pool in silence.

“That's his daughter, Cosette,” Jimin's palm guided your hip to the kitchen window. You were so drunk that Jimin didn't have to do much to make your physiognomy move, like wet clay between his calloused fingers.

"Victor Hugo fan?"

"Don't even try to do it, he'll spend hours talking to you about Les Misérables." They both laughed in a drunken stupor. Like two boys gossiping.

Cosette was wearing a plaid skirt and blue eyeshadow. To attract attention this time she had put on red lipstick.

Seeing Jimin, she raised her hand and smiled, revealing her silver braces.

No, she was too shy to greet Jimin like that.

You greeted her with both hands so he could see you better in the darkness on that side.

"Ah, you know her."

"Yes, I almost crashed into the poor thing at midnight when she was running away from her house." Monday the 17th, you arrived at 12:13 that night. Anyway, it wasn't logical for you to be out at midnight.

"I didn't consider her one of those who ran away at night."

"Sometimes it can get lonely, doesn't it?" You both looked at each other at the same time, your cold knuckles pinching your lips.

Hoseok was nowhere to be found and Jimin's cock was already starting to hurt under those tight jeans.

Fuck it.

"You don't need to go to be with little Cosette to feel accompanied." Jimin rolled his eyes, the iridescence of the water reflecting on his face and you felt the wine line your blood. The tickling behind your neck subsided and you could only think about those high, rosy cheekbones that you wanted to nibble on ever since you saw them.

"I don't feel alone now."

"And in your house?"

You squeezed your eyes shut.

"Surprisingly, at home, I feel like I have someone else. In the hallways behind me, behind the curtain when I shower, in the corner of my bed when I go to sleep."

A cheeky smile spread across your face, Jimin swallowed, pulling out a cigarette.

"Ghosts," he rolled his eyes playfully. "The worst plague."

You stole the cigarette from Jimin's hands and lit it with the lighter you had inside your left boot.

"What do you say, Park? Do you have ghosts in your hallways while you go to pour your coffee?"

If you only knew, love.

"Unlike you, no one loves me enough to haunt me even in my dreams."

Your eyes fell after two drags, on the third you stopped at your chest and held the cheeks of the boy next to you, your crimson nails squeezing gently letting Jimin's lips bulge allowing you to pass the cold smoke to his lips.

"Hmm," Jimin groaned, letting the air come out of his nose in frustration. He closed his eyes and opened them gently until he looked at your pupils dilated and determined for the next step.

This is the first time Jimin has asked the question instead of Hoseok, who from his mouth didn't sound so creepy. But the unfortunate man was busy playing a game of poker with the other parents. Now that little Jung came to the family, Jimin, and his hobbies were something that Hoseok apparently wanted to put behind him, he wanted to become a suburban father.

"Have you ever been recorded...um-" Jimin swallowed hard, moving closer to hide in the shadows of the night. "Doing it?"

You tilted your head back to look at Jimin again, he wasn't playing around. You lifted the corners of your lips, a husky laugh on your part.

“You fucking freak” You scoffed.

"I can show you my films if you want to."

"Yeah, sure-" you huffed, taking a step back.

"Pick one." Jimin took your arm, the look in his eyes was daring. "Pick someone here. Anyone."

Your gaze rolled around the party until it stopped at the sweet Maeve who was singing karaoke next to her husband, a martini in her hands. Surprisingly, Maeve was a crowd favorite.

Jimin smiled evilly. "Do you want to know if Mrs. Johnson enjoys being recorded?"

No, you wrinkled your nose.

Your eyes softened at the thought of Jimin arranging the camera to focus on Maeve's cobalt eyes, curiosity flowing faster than alcohol.

"I thought so." Jimin offered you his hand and surprisingly, yours landed on his before he could say no. "Be like the one she's had too much to drink, we need an excuse to get out of here."

In the end, Jimin was right. The only thing he needed to get you into his bed was a little alcohol and a little bit of you.

Jimin's house had so few lights that when you entered it took you a few seconds to adjust to the darkness. The lamps illuminated the corners, the pieces of newspapers with his reviews on the living room wall, his photo on several of them.

Leaving the party wasn't as difficult as they both thought because everyone was so drunk that they didn't even notice his absence, even Hoseok who was winning his useless poker game.

Now you were with your legs crossed on the leather furniture, your boot clattered on the floor waiting for Jimin who was in the hallway, he had put on reading glasses that made him look older than he was but you loved thinking about that little girl. fantasy that he was about to give you a class.

Jimin muttered the letter M over and over again until he found Maeve between Mad Max and The Magnificent Seven. Handwritten with a green marker it said: Maeve: June 3rd, After the Twins' Birthday.

"Here it is." A nostalgic smile appeared on Jimin's face. You followed his steps with your eyes until you reached the small VCR in front of the television.

"It bothers you?" You took a joint out of your purse, but Jimin denied it, crawling to the furniture and positioning himself between your legs, his glasses reflecting a certain emotion that you couldn't decipher. But he looked comfortable, happy to be able to present one of his works, his hand caressing your thigh while he lit the joint.

"On the contrary, I believe that substance use enriches the experience." Now it was Jimin's turn to take your breath into his, but his hand was rough and he clenched your jaw to get you off. You didn't complain, that's how you liked it. "Speaking of substances, brandy?"

“Please,” you coughed, your eyes stinging. You looked around the room as he stood.

Jimin went to the open kitchen that joined the living room, his gaze and body were already adapted to the blackness of the apartment. There was only the light from the television and a small lamp at the end of the hallway that led to his study.

"Are you going to explain to me how you got frigid Maeve Johnson to let you do this or..."

"Of course, I just let Hoseok do the hard work of casting and convincing."

"Hoseok? Your neighbor Hoseok?"

"Yeah, he's like my producer if you want to call it that." The coppery liquid settled in the glasses, leaving a pleasant woody smell in the air.

"And what do you gain from that?"

Jimin turned around and looked at you impatiently.

"Have a drink before you start, it will surely be strong for you."

"You don't know me, Park." You responded, sitting closer to him to take the glass he offered you, a small drink.

It was enough.

Your swollen and tinted lips closed with his in a tender and passive kiss, Jimin breathed deeply without closing his eyes. He placed both glasses on the table without taking off his eyes of the screen and put his hands on your waist. The tips of his fingers touched your curves above the silk of his dress, turning from a caress to a rapture.

"Mphmf" You took off laughing a little, the weed had you smiling and Jimin loved that. He loved it when his girls started laughing sheepishly at their own fantasies.

"Shall we begin?" Jimin held the controller in his hands and pressed the button.

Hoseok is the first image you make out on the screen, his lips pursed as he fixes the camera.

"You're sure?" Could be heard behind the sudden movements of the camera.

"Mhm, it's just something I like to keep in case I want to see your face moaning my name again."

Hoseok takes off just as Maeve blushes and rolls her eyes at him. His movements were light, and his shoulders didn't seem as tense as those of the woman at the party.

"Is she on drugs?" Asked.

"No, she only drank two glasses of wine before starting. The three of us were a little tipsy."

A pale figure approaches Maeve and removes the low tail she has, surprisingly, this makes the woman relax even more. Seeing the hands massaging her shoulders you realize it's Jimin.

"Is she ready yet?" she murmured.

"The only thing missing is the boom," Hoseok responded by teasing Maeve about her beauty.

"Quickly, I can't wait any longer." Jimin laughed flirtatiously, approaching Maeve's neck to leave a couple of chaste kisses. Johnson closed her eyes.

"Almost there," Hoseok complained before the sound changed from a crisp sound to a sleeker one. Now you could hear Jimin's lips smack.

"Action," Maeve laughed and the two boys laughed at her. Hoseok was no longer in front of the screen. But you could hear the dragging of a chair and a belt being removed. Voyeurism, interesting.

What happens next is just what you thought, but you still couldn't stop watching Maeve being completely devoured by a man who was, surely, her first experience fucking her and having her be the center of attention.

The camera focused on her and her alone. But you couldn't stop watching Jimin in the corners, he was a damn artist with his body. He was not the protagonist but without him, there was no dance.

Hoseok was breathing hard behind the camera throughout the entire movie.

When Maeve was sweating and panting on the furniture right where you were sitting, the screen went black.

You looked at Jimin, his mouth resting on his knuckles. The light from the static emitted a pale light on his body, you could see how seriously he had taken the film, he had only moved to take a couple of sips of brandy without taking his eyes off the screen.

"What do you think about it?"

There were no words that could describe the feeling Jimin had when he heard the three words that left your lips.

"I want one." You had a feline smile. Jimin knew you were sick, but you looked like you had fallen from the sky that summer afternoon.

Park's head shook, nodding quickly.

As he stood up from the furniture, he felt as if his body was going to lean forward, perhaps he had drunk too much brandy.

"Woah, are you okay?" You held his arm, but he nodded instantly.

"Yes, sorry is the excitement." He laughed walking down the hallway, each step echoing off the walls of his brain. Something was wrong, but he couldn't stop now. He had to look for his camera.

He searched for the keys in his pocket until he found the key to the study, turned on the lights, and looked for a tool in the corner of the room. Upon entering the studio, it surprised you how many plants, lamps, and furniture of different sizes and shapes there were.

Maeve had surely been something improvised, but now Jimin and Hoseok had vast resources to create something first-class.

"You can take a seat wherever you like, I'll take care of the rest." The man stammered, putting the batteries in the camera.

"What camera is it?"

"It's a Sony BetaMovie, I love how the colors look in the image." He swallowed hard because when he got up, the room seemed to spin. "Shit."

"Come, I'll help you. Take a seat." Your voice guided Jimin to a white piece of furniture near a window. Your hands brushed the hair from his forehead and he smiled. You really were everything he needed.

"I'll put the cassette on while you rest. You hit the joint too fast." You laughed before placing a sweet kiss on his lips, Jimin's cock throbbed as he felt the softness and heat emanating from your body.

“Quick,” he whispered, watching you put the device on the tripod.

His eyebrows rose at how quickly you set up the camera and sound. Even better than Hoseok, he dared to say.

Where was Hoseok?

Jimin's heart started to beat fast as you let your ass fall into his lap, a hiss coming from him as he put both of his hands behind his head. Your hips began to move back and forth, and the fabric of his jeans rubbed roughly against his cock.

"Fuck." He mumbled, looking up, lips parted into an oval. The room stopped moving when you started playing with his hair. "You're s-so fucking cute. I like you so much, I-I don't want to share you w-with that bastard Hoseok."

You laughed at his babbling. He was so excited that if you touched his cock he was sure to cum in seconds. You flattened your tongue against his jugular and felt the growl he made.

"You're so fucking cruel. C'mon, take my fucking cock out."

"Do it yourself, you lazy fuck." You whispered, leaving a hickey on his collarbone.

Jimin obeyed as fast as his clumsy hands could, he didn't know what was happening to him but he didn't care. Maybe what he smoked wasn't weed but if you were in the same state, things were fine.

Everything was perfect.

"Take that fucking dress off. God, I wish you had that pink leotard on."

With both hands on the edges of the dress, you lifted it until your naked body was visible.

"You're breathtaking, baby."

"I know." You kissed him with so much hunger that the taste of blood began appearing between your tongues, but none of you knew whose. You raised your legs to remove the wet panty, you held Jimin's cock in your entrance, and your fingers felt the veins that were pulsing frantically. "Don't you dare cum without me"

"Just ride me, baby, please. I feel like I will die if you don't." He sounded desperate, on the verge of crying. "Nice and slow, let the camera see how good you can take it." Jimin gasped with every inch you let into your tight pussy. Both hands went to his mouth muffling his moans when you sat straight up on his cock, leaving nothing out.

You bit your lower lip in a smile, you pulled him closer to your body and he buried his face in your neck. Right where you wanted it.

"I know you have my key." You whispered.

Jimin pressed his fingers on your hip to make you stop. Fuck.

"What are you-?" The air was forced from Jimin's lungs as his rib bent in pain. The warmth of his blood damaged the new T-shirt.

You had stabbed him, he didn't know what it was but he could feel the thin edge moving menacingly inside him. A guttural sound came from him as you rotated the handle of the knife.

"You were the one who entered my house."

Jimin laughed, the lightness that losing blood caused him ecstasy.

"I didn't tell you to stop moving, you slut," he growled in your ear, your pussy clenched around him, he noticed and smiled even more. You were so done with him. You grabbed a fistful of hair from his head to get a better look at him.

He was a fucking liar, you told yourself as you held his head, his eyelids fluttering with the errant movement of your hips. If you had drunk the brandy that he offered you, you would be in that state, the same one that Maeve was in, the same one that everyone on every cassette in the hallway was surely in.

"Where is the key?"

Jimin couldn't stop smiling, he grabbed your chin and pulled you closer to leave wet kisses on your lips. His tongue playing with yours. A fight of teeth and saliva.

"What do you need it for"

"It's not your damn problem."

"Then I don't have the key."

You were sick of his games, you bit his bottom lip so hard it bled. That along with a sit on his cock made him so sensitive.

"Fuck, fuck, FUCK." He hissed on your chest, he did not know if it was for pleasure or because you were taking out the blade from his body. Thick, white cum pouring down your legs.

"Okay, then. I'll just do it myself."

The last thing Jimin remembers is your head smashing his to unconsciousness. Bliss, pure heaven after the torture of having to love and deal with you.

He was fucked.

And here was Jimin, his eyes were like two black bullets pointing in your direction.

And there you were, helping Nancy arrange the gifts on the Baby Shower table. You dressed so casually and sweetly. You smiled as if nothing had happened.

Jimin inhaled sharply and felt his rib sting under the gauze protecting the wound. By luck, or rather experience, you didn't hit a vital organ. Which to him is surprising.

"This is what you get for not telling me to go with you," Hoseok served Jimin the punch filled with cubes of fruit, it was too sweet but since it was Maeve's party it had to be kid-friendly.

Hoseok didn't know about your act, he only knows that there is a tape of what happened, and what hurts Jimin the most is that he doesn't even have it. You took him away, you left his house in a mess looking for the key, and all the tapes scattered on the floor. It took full days to fix them.

"Now you're dedicated to being a full-time dad."

"Sorry, I have to do my job."

Jimin looked up at his partner, he wanted to tell him to go to hell, to him and to everyone else. But Park Jimin was always a sweet, calm, and helpful neighbor. Today he gave the excuse of having a migraine so he could sit and be quiet, so he could see you through his sunglasses.

"Did you at least fuck her?"

Jimin looked at his empty glass, a small smile threatening to tug at his corners.

"It's the best work I've done so far." He responded after a long silence.

"Fuck, man," Hoseok complained, thinking of all the possibilities.

"I can't take this anymore, I'm going outside for a cigarette."

"Don't stay too long, we almost announce the gender."

What a weird fucking sentence, Jimin thought taking, his pack out of his pockets.

"Care to share one?" You said and Jimin's body hair rose like static.

You wore sunglasses just like him, and you carried two glasses of rum and soda.

"You can take that fucking drink and choke with it."

“Mm,” you smiled. "Someone is not in a good mood."

"Do you know I can sue you for what you did?"

You laughed heartily covering your lips, Park's stomach altered. Of course, he couldn't, you already knew about his deepest secret, and you had the evidence. God knows Jimin was in your hands and you didn't need much to close it and crush him.

"Where's the tape?"

"Where's my key?"

"I don't have your fucking key."

"Then you can forget about your tape, sweetheart." You mumbled under your breath before stealing the cigarette from him. Jimin's hand turned into a fist.

You walked languidly down the sidewalk, Jimin following slowly behind you. You knew.

When they arrived at the house they both stayed at the entrance door. Your hands are arranged behind your back.

"Open the door."

"I thought you were going to come in through the window like you did before."

"ENOUGH!" Park shouted, scaring you, luckily there was no one around. "This is not a game."

"It is."

"No, it's not. You came to ruin my life."

"And you don't help solve it."

"The only way this problem will be solved is if you get out of Montenegro."

"Or if one of us ends up dead."

Jimin frowned, and you smiled. You were playing again. What a fucking tease.

Before the staring game continued, a noise inside the house caught both of your attention. To Jimin's surprise, it seemed like you didn't know what the noise was either.

No, quite the opposite.

"What's that?"

“Fuck,” you muttered before pulling out your keys and opening the door as quickly as possible. "Do not enter." You were frantic, scared. Jimin did the complete opposite.

"I told you not to come in,"

"Please help."

"Jimin Park, if you want to stay alive I swear-"

The man pushed you aside to follow the trail of blood that ran from the basement door to the living room and kitchen. When he got to the door, there was a woman tied up trying to open the door with a knife. Her hands were tied with gray tape, she was wearing dirty work clothes and she smelled horrible.

When the girl saw Jimin she became alert and she went to him on her knees, hands above her so that he could help.

"JI-" you swallowed hard, entering the kitchen. "No."

"Shh. I'll take care of it."

In the blink of an eye, Jimin's gaze changed to that of a monster. The woman noticed, got up on her weak legs, and ran through the kitchen to the stairs where she stumbled so hard that her knees couldn't take it anymore.

"No Please!" the woman screamed into Jimin's hand muffling her cries, Jimin's free arm chaining itself to her weak neck squeezing tightly. She moved like a fish out of water for a few seconds until only small spasms remained.

"Shh, I have a migraine. God."

You watched from the start of the stairs, your body trembling and your heart beating in your esophagus about to vomit it up. When he turned to see you there was a smile on his face, red with effort.

This was the card Jimin needed to match.

"The time I came into your house, you weren't the one making all that noise." He gasped, releasing the lifeless body from his arm.

"I do not know what are you talking about." You stuttered, taking a couple of steps back.

Knock, knock.

If you could, your racing heart would have already been on the ground.

"Hello, are you there? Nancy wants you to be there for the reveal."

Zuri's voice chilled your blood. You looked at Jimin and then at the body on the stairs.

Jimin trapped you between the door and his body, you looked up into his eyes.

"Let me guess, my little girl doesn't know how to hide a body."

It hurt you to say it but: "Help me, please." You whispered into Jimin’s lips and didn’t have to say more.

"Be like the one who was leaving the kitchen in ten seconds, wait for the second ring."

You nodded, watching Jimin lift your victim's body until he disappeared through the basement door. You fixed your hair and your dress, and you walked around the bloody kitchen.

"Are you there?" Said Zuri again.

"Yes, one second." You walked quickly trying not to slip on the red liquid on your heels. You opened and closed the door as quickly and subtly as possible. "Sorry, work."

"Oh, no. I understand, sorry." Zuri said with the sweetest smile on her lips.

"I'll be there in about ten minutes."

"Ten, of course. I'll inform the boss." She winked before walking down the sidewalk to the other row of houses.

You sighed before walking back into the mess, Jimin was standing with his shoulder covered in someone else's blood, hair fluttering, and cheeks flushed from the effort.

Your angel.

"There's blood on you... everywhere," your voice trembled.

"What an insightful observation, darling." He laughed, cleaning his hands with his jeans.  

When you both saw each other, there was something undeniable between, and as if pulled by threads, both were attracted to each other until they collided in a kiss with arms intertwined in your bodies. Jimin knew in your arms that heaven was in the middle of chaos.

Jimin's hands traced the lines of your body until he reached the back of your thighs and lifted you so that you were chained to his waist. His rib burned with pain and he was sure the wound was opening again, but it did not matter now.

You two were even.

You gasped as you felt his hands squeeze your ass with anger.

"Shut the fuck up, I'm done with your bullshit."

Your eyelids drooped as you felt his soft lips leave kiss after kiss until your lips did not come away, the undeniable taste of weed and rum. Sweet and dangerous. His tongue entered your mouth, playing with yours, circling until he sucked it, a docile bite that made you moan.

Why did he still want you even after you stabbed him and made him ejaculate, intoxicated?

"Look at you doubting yourself." You said right in time when the silence became evident.

Jimin's blood boiled at your mockery and he led you to the furniture in your small living room. The sofa was still wrapped in plastic and the crisp sound of your body falling into the cushions excited you. A hand on your neck squeezing enough for you to open your mouth for air, the blood of your victim staining your pretty dress and skin.

Out of nowhere, Jimin took out a knife from his pocket and your hair stood on end, your pussy getting wet when he slowly ran it over your chest until he broke your bust and left your nipples exposed.

"Where's the tape?" He asked bringing the sharp tip to one of your nipples, the cold of the metal making your toes curl.

"There's no tape." You smiled biting your lip. Jimin let go of your neck to slap you so hard that he took away your smile.

"Say that again." He was fuming, his wide nose searching for air to calm himself, teeth biting the inside of his cheek.

"There. Is. No. Tape. Park. I just prepped the camera and left it off."

He didn't understand why you felt so proud when it was clear that he could push the blade through your chest, but your nipples were getting hard and saliva was pooling in his mouth.

"Why is there no tape, you fucking cunt?" His fingers squeezed your chin so you would stop watching him play with your tits.

"Because I want to be the one who has it."

Jimin frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Open that box." You pointed at the table next to the couch. It was the only box that looked used and worn. With the same knife, Jimin opened the box and felt a rush throughout his body, almost like vomiting.

A Sony BetaMovie, new in the box. His dazed and disoriented gaze went to yours.

"It arrived this morning."

"Oh, you didn't."

"I want my own film. No Hoseok, no drugs, just you. I saw you in the other ones while you were drugged and God," Your pupils shone with such grace and prayer that Jimin didn't understand.

"N-no, this is not how it works." The only thing he could do was laugh.

"But it can."

You began to kiss his fingers, one by one, giving him the necessary attention. "You just need to let me put the VHS inside and we can start."

Jimin denied it as he let his guard down. You got up and improvised a tripod out of boxes until the camera was right in the center where you could see the couch and Jimin sitting, without understanding what the hell was happening.

Having the VHS and pressing 'Rec', you turned back to Jimin. You kissed his cheeks and his neck, he moaned a few times, closing his eyes.

"In this one, you're my main star." You whispered in his ear and his cock hardened until it hurt. "Use me, please."

A growl from him.

He snatched your body from his side until he had you in his lap, your chest pressed against his knees. With the edge of the knife, he spread your legs and spat on his fingers.

"I wish I could kill you right now." He murmured entering two slender fingers inside your sopping cunt.

"I wish you would just shut up and fuck me like you hate me." You whimpered as his fingers collided with your entrance with pure blows. Your juices were making noise throughout the room, you grabbed a cushion, pressing your face into it.

Jimin didn't like that. "No, no, lift your face. Let me hear you cry." His fingers fisted into your hair as he thrust two more fingers in, the knife threatening to cut the inside of your thigh at any moment.

Your body trembled as his index and ring fingers curled into the gummy walls of your pussy.

"That's it, cum you fucking slut. Flirting with all the husbands at the party, smiling at Charlie Munson in front of her stupid fucking wife, all that with your perky tits bouncing. Showing Zuri your pretty body in that leotard."

His pinky started to play with your throbbing nub until your pee came out, making a mess out of the plastic-covered furniture. Jimin laughed without stopping until he saw you trying to crawl away from him. He took his wet hand and smeared it in your mouth, you spit out the excess watching him with drooping eyelids.

"Look at the mess you made, how dare you ruin my jeans."

A rough hand collided with your right ass cheek.

"Say you're sorry." Another one, this time the left one.

"S-sorry, sir."

The name caught his fancy. You were really hanging on his hands, you were the dirtiest whore for him, and he could play with you no matter how. You were so fucking sick and he loved it.

"Sir?" He laughed, caressing the reddened skin. "That's so cute, keep doing it." He spanked you again and again.

"Please, sir, it hurts."

"Good, now come here and make me cum until it comes out of your nose," he smirked putting you between his legs. 

Your trembling and useless hands took a moment to remove Jimin's pants, revealing his defined legs that made your mouth water.

You felt the tip of the knife on your chin and you raised your head. "Take off the underwear, too."

You hurried until you found Jimin's thick cock throbbing on top of his stomach. You licked your lips unconsciously and got to work right away.

Jimin's moans were drawn out like he was going to curse and drowned it out in a grunt at the end, you loved every second of it as your tongue circled until you reached the base. The air cutting from your throat.

"Kiss it until you can taste the saltiness down your throat, angel"

"Yes, sir." You whispered, letting Jimin fuck your face, covering your ears with his hands so that you could only hear the saliva lubricating the exit and entry of Jimin's cock into your abused throat.

You closed your eyes when you felt just what he promised you. His cum enters directly into your esophagus.

His hands lifted you up in a rush, your lungs flaring for oxygen for the first time in what felt like hours.

"Open your mouth." He have demanded and you obeyed. He spit into your mouth and then closed it with his fingers. "You belong to me, slut."

"Yes, sir." Your words seemed like blurs of what you wanted to say.

Your body was arranged on the furniture with your legs on your chest and Jimin squatting on top of you. He was going to hurt you but it was going to feel so good.

Your juices lubricated your entrance and your asshole, shining with the afternoon light that was scattered through the curtains. Jimin wanted to break you so bad that he grabbed the back of your ankles and spread you even wider until your pussy revealed your dark, hot insides.

Aiming the tip of his cock he rammed you hard until you screamed, biting Jimin's arm. The blood of others staining your bodies, Jimin's wound hurt so deliciously that the stain on his tissues became bigger and bigger.

You couldn't hold it in and you dug your finger into the gauze making Jimin's eyes widen, a roar came out of him and he held your neck squeezing so hard that your face started to turn red. However, you smiled, going dumb with his dick.

Jimin's eyes threatened to go black with pleasure and pain. Your pussy felt like wet silk. It was warm and cozy. He could die fucking that tight hole until the last spurt of semen was also his last breath.

Damn succubus, that's what you were. You smiled like a demon and fucked like an angel.

The angle ended up making you cum a second time, making your walls throb.

"Oh my God, keep doing that." Jimin grabbed your body in a ball until he covered you completely with his body and fucked you with short, desperate strokes, like an animal in heat.

As he came he felt like his soul was ripped out.

"Fucking love you, love your-...I hope you get pregnant with my warm cum deep inside your stomach."

You rolled your eyes.

"Oh, honey. If this ain't the one, we can try again." You promised.

"This is the last time you'll see me," Jimin promised back.

And there it was, oh the gods must have blessed you with such a perfect smile because even though he knew he was screwed, he was still in love.

In a quick and agile movement, you were now the one holding the knife and pointing it directly at the bleeding wound.

"I have a game." You smiled slowly positioning yourself to ride him.

The cum bursting out, warm and viscous to his pelvis. Jimin kept looking at you with a tense stomach.

"Let's play Guess who accidentally gave Cosette one of his movies instead of giving her A Clockwork Orange."

No no no. No.

"No." Jimin tried to get up but you raised the knife to his throat with menacing eyes.

"Knowing Cosette, it will be the last one she watches because of the explicit themes. But you must be on time."

They both looked at the clock on the wall. It was 4:55. Cosette always started the movies after coming home from chess club.

Five minutes or it was going to be a total disaster. Chaos. Jimin had shown Cosette porn, his porn.

"Here's the solution: I give you my car key and you either leave to stop her or let the whole neighborhood know that you traumatized Marcus's poor little daughter with your sick hobby."

Park's eyes stung as two tears fell to his temples.

"If you say the first, that means you will take the key on my conditions."

And this was where Jimin knew that he had made the wrong move.

He was trapped everywhere. Checkmate.

"Fuck you," his voice trembled.

You lowered the knife disappointed, and you sighed.

"Well, if you wish."

The handle of the knife collided with Jimin's forehead letting the pain dissipate with a deep sleep.

The first thing Jimin could smell was artificial pine, then the selage of your perfume. His eyes struggled to open as the blood from his forehead had dried onto his eyelids. It was dark, it was night around him and he could only see the road along until it plunged into darkness. He doesn't remember going out anywhere, much less somewhere so barren. His neck moved little by little until he reached a small market illuminated by white and purple lights.

Jim's Stop Sign, read an old, disused sign.

A bell rang as a woman was let out, it was you.

Shit.

Jimin tried to lift his sleepy body but he was tied to the seat. His body shook with every step you took towards the car. Now that Jimin realized, it was your car.

As you got closer he realized that you were wearing Jimin's t-shirt and the bright green leotard underneath, despite the night you were wearing sunglasses.

When you opened the door, his body was twisted with tension, waiting for you to do something.

"Oh, you woke up." You turned on the dome light, the pungent smell of blood and rotting flesh suddenly filling the car until it completely drowned out the smell of pine. Park tried to vomit but stopped himself. "I see your stomach is still sensitive, you should eat something." You pointed to the paper bag full of snacks and odds and ends like glasses and hair dye.

There was a tingle on Jimin's back but he was afraid to look at the back seat. You put the keys in and sped through the quiet night. The putrid smell subsided as you opened the window for Jimin.

"We had to leave without saying goodbye to Hoseok, I know you probably wanted to see him one last time but the body was starting to decompose and there was no remedy."

That was it, Jimin guided his eyes to the back where a long black sheath tied up who he assumed was the girl you kidnapped.

"She was the girl who had bought the house." You explained when you saw that Park didn't take his eyes off the cover that was shaking with the car. "I convinced her to have a cup of coffee when I met her at the gym and hit her in the face with a bottle of wine. I didn't know how to get rid of her, she just didn't want to die, and spent days feeding her and trying to find a solution." You bit your perfect nails with your other hand on the steering wheel.

Jimin was trying to breathe slowly.

"The solution was you all along." You smiled caressing his thigh. That made Jimin strangely relax.

"We need to find a place to bury them."

Them?

"When we get to the outskirts of Las Vegas we will be more suitable."

"Them?" Jimin’s raspy, tremulous voice touched you.

You looked at him worried, he doesn't remember.

"Cosette's body is in the back." You explained sweetly.

The vomit that his stomach held back came out when he heard those words, the viscous liquid falling on his sweater and his seat.

"Oh, Minnie, this is the second time you've done this on the trip."

"I want to go home." He cried while you stopped to clean his mess.

"We're getting there, don't worry."

"No, I want to go back to Montenegro."

"But you can't. You killed Cosette in her room, don't you remember?"

"You're a fucking liar, I'll never do that to her," he yelled so loud spit came out of his mouth. You just stayed there taking paper towels to clean his chest.

"She said very offensive stuff to you when we went to get the tape. She didn't like that a man was with her dad." You tensed your mouth in a strange smile.

"I didn't do it." He repeated it again and again.

But then again, He hated her guts. The only thing he needed was for her to snap at him once. But he couldn't, he wouldn't.

The night fell again into the silence of the car mechanics accelerating down the deserted highway toward Las Vegas. Jimin looked to the side of him: your hand was resting on the open window while your hair was fluttering in the wind, you looked tired but still murmured the lyrics the song in the radio.

Feeling Jimin's gaze, you looked out of the corner of your eye and smiled tenderly.

You got him out of a huge mess, he was grateful for that. Your hand went to the back and you removed the knot from Jimin's wrists. Looking back at Jimin you kissed the back of his hand and continued looking at the road.

The sweet act confused Jimin so much that he could only stand there looking at your profile, it reminded him of Nancy's. Appeased, away, and scheming things. His stomach was burning with love and he didn't understand it, but thinking about your furrowed eyebrows while you helped him lift Cosette's body made Jimin take you more than just appreciation.

"Did you bring a shovel?" He asked.

[gutfaced]

WINNIE'S ETHNIC HEADCANONS. (D7, D4 SPECIFIC)

preface; obviously these won't be canon to the hunger games as race & ethnicities are vague and what we do get are mainly descriptions of minorities with little culture links. that being said, take this as me having fun and screwing about a little! also i am Not american but also a UK-residing bipoc so i'm going off of research/personal information i I've accrued from. certain heritages. if anything is inaccurate/slightly misconstrued, feel free to let me know as i love getting to have a better understanding on areas where i don't initially come from.

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 ��

i find that seven has a mixed population, being placed within oregon and all. i've always thought of it having a small irish heritage, as obviously while panem is no longer america and cut off from the majority of the world, i do think several people do still have it within their blood due to migration before the dark days. few speak gaeilge as i assume over time the capitol stamped out any predominant languages that weren't english/latin, but there are alcoves of seven's locations where the language is alive after so long.

a continued practice from the surviving and predominant irish descendants would be handfasting, a cultural tradition within marriage where the newlywed couple would tie their hands together as a sign of matrimony and their binding union. i also think that they do keep the practice of claddagh rings, with the single, married and engaged all wearing in different ways. (single: heart racing outwards on the right hand, heart racing inwards on the left for married, outwards and left for engaged, and inwards and right for being in a relationship.)

for johanna specifically, i hc her as irish-latina & go off the idea that she is non-white (debating on whether she is white passing or not.)

𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐓 𝟒

definitely not influenced by a specific mutual or anything but i absolutely agree with the idea that 1) district 4 has an asian population (considering filipinos being the third largest ethnic group within, and 2) HEAVY latino heritage as it makes up 40% as the largest group. (district 7 🤝 district 4 solidarity) most descendants were migrants from mexico and so i feel like a lot of underlying practices come from the previous latin-american ancestors. however, for what i believe to be a small amount of tourism due to the beauty of californian/four's beaches and seaside environment, a lot of these cultures are toned down and are within the cracks of their living. (#white-washed panem..) i've definitely always seen finnick as somewhat asian considering as most asian skin tones can be described as having a ‘golden’ undertone. his hair does intrigue me however!! ruminating on that currently. i assume that due to the large aapi population that several cultural celebrations/practices are combined together to create a more multi-cultural society within d4.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒

hey!! i hope you enjoyed both the headcanons and moodboards! i didn't go into detail about d4's cultures (sorry!!) as i know there's a lot of possible base to cover and didn't want to be incorrect with any information i did add here! that's all, thanks for reading!

[qcellbit]

meta talk. i don't quite know how to word this properly, but adding french creators to the qsmp is the riskiest thing quackity studios could've done and it doesn't surprise me that the success to which it was executed was minimal.

adding portuguese speaking creators exclusively from brazil as the first batch outside of the initial english and spanish speakers was the perfect "soft expansion" for the server when you consider the reason for the project's conception - because quackity had experienced poor treatment from white americans as a bilingual latino creator and sought to unite his two communities in an empowering way, further expanding this very noble and personal idea to encapsulate all communities and all languages spanning across the entire world. inviting more latino creators who have likely had the same experiences and would be able to appreciate what the project is trying to achieve is a no-brainer.

it's an uncomfortable thing to touch on (which is why i've never, ever, seen it spoken about on this website), but minecraft projects and communities have always had massive problems with all forms of bigotry, but especially racism. white americans and white europeans have probably not felt the euphoria of seeing their culture celebrated in mainstream global entertainment projects as they already absolutely dominate the entertainment industry on a global scale. as someone who is visibly brown and living in europe, i've always got a lot of grief from classmates and co-workers in the form of ignorant jokes and flat out exclusion - it's an unfortunate cultural norm that bleeds into streaming due to the medium's casual and open nature, unnoticed or unchallenged by white viewers who don't want to have to confront a content creator's bigotry in fears of having to stop watching them. something that cannot be ignored by the people it's actually affecting. there is a reason dsmp and hermitcraft cosplay meet ups are dominated by pale skin.

i love the qsmp because its inclusion of latin american creators and quackity's selectiveness based on personal experience have largely (and i do mean largely, not entirely, but that's a discussion for another day) eliminated that problem.

the most prominent and succinct example i can think of is the photo of quackity's bedroom that was mocked countless times by his english speaking community and his bigoted english speaking friends when he streamed on the dsmp - when that photo was brought to the qsmp, forever, a fellow latino creator, was the first person to gently offer solidarity because he had come from the same impoverished latin american background. to me, and to a lot of minorities, that is what the qsmp is about. yeah, sharing languages in a minecraft server is novel, it's a fun way for americans who did poorly in high school to get back into learning spanish, but it stands for so much more when you're a racial minority. when your pleading in the dsmp fandom was drowned out and ignored for the entire duration of its run. when you're completely unrepresented in minecraft tournaments, and when known bigots are encouraged to participate in said tournaments to boost viewership because numbers are paramount. when you are finally seeing your culture appreciated rather than mocked on streams with tens of thousands of viewers all over the world as part of a massive project with a brilliant, engaging story.

it was obviously necessary to branch out of the americas at some point with what the project is attempting to achieve, but such a task is daunting when the next group you're inviting and their community probably do not have the capacity through personal experience to appreciate what the project stands for at its core in the same way the first batches do. can non americans all relate in discussions of the internet and entertainment industry being america and by extension english speaking centric? yeah, of course. but can white europeans relate when the only representation you have in said media revolves around harmful bigoted stereotypes? can there be a quiet solidarity between a white frenchman and a brown brazilian based on experiences with government, racial profiling, and online mockery? no. and in the landscape of livestreaming stupid jokes for entertainment alongside fast paced gameplay, these nuances are probably not going to be acknowledged.

in complete contrast to the solidarity exhibited between quackity and forever when discussing their poverty growing up in latin america, i have not forgotten and never will forget aypierre excusing his constant racist jokes aimed at the brazilians on his uniquely "french dark humour" that the brazilians, hurt by his comments, could "not understand." this is not an excusable cultural difference, but a symptom of white european privilege, and total ignorance towards what the project is meant to stand for. a smooth integration of all the world's cultures necessitates white european and white american introspection in a way that i haven't seen a lot of streamers capable of. admitting fault to such a degree and the ego of a large online personality do not often mesh well.

i'm always very irritated when people (especially english speakers) complain about them not "adding the germans" sooner despite us seeing applications for german speaking admins many months ago - because it would not be a task of simply throwing out server invites to content creators and cobbling together an animation of a submarine crashing into the island. you cannot downplay the ambition of this project and the mammoth task its trying to accomplish. people take for granted and forget that this is an unprecedented melding of cultures that would never otherwise interact and clash on the rare occasions they do. the french qsmp community being small and the french creators largely being outliers when it comes to the qsmp is not something born out of malice or purposeful exclusion, but simply a symptom of an unspoken lack of solidarity and inability to meaningfully relate based on everything from wildly varying privilege to global placement.

and don't get me wrong - i'm not excusing things like the times at which events are broadcast (i literally live in europe and have to stay up until sunrise to see most events, i think the admins do have to bite the bullet and begin structuring events around a new timezone that isn't the globally inconvenient unsustainable PST), or the exclusion of clips from french content creators at the presidential dinner, but i think attributing those admin choices to the brazilian community being unfairly favoured is downplaying what the qsmp as a project means for minorities, especially when the brazilian community receive the most scorn for infamously being the first to call out bigoted behaviour from qsmp content creators. yeah, it sucks that the french haven't slotted into the qsmp as well as the brazilians and aren't anywhere as numerous, but with all these unspoken contributing factors being taken into account, i can't be surprised.

i wish quackity and his team the best in smoothly integrating more languages and cultures in this amazing project in the future, but for the love of god please understand that the implications of this project and its impact are far larger than any streamer "drama" you might've witnessed in the past. and stop underplaying what this project is trying to achieve in an online landscape saturated in bigotry.

[ianthes-missing-arm]

The term "non-binary" and my relationship with gender

I have used they/them pronouns within my closest circles for around 4 years now. I used to identify as non-binary until, last year, I went through an nth wave of self-discovery regarding my lesbianism, internalized homophobia and gender.

It is not that "non-binary" technically doesn't encompass how i feel about my gender identity. It does. What actually made me estrange my relationship with it, was the lack of understanding that cis people and some fellow trans ppl in the community have of "non-binary" being an umbrella term, as well as ignorance about lesbian gender identity.

Now, "gender non-conforming" actually is more accurate to how i feel in its title, and perhaps, even for the ignorant, it could give an understanding about my lesbianism and rocky relationship with womanhood.

I do not reject womanhood. I am a woman, the world sees me as a woman (when it wants to), and being socialized as one has been and will always be part of me.

Moreover, I am a brown latin woman and a lesbian. I am clearly gender non-conforming to a western society in presentation since my ethnic features are considered "unfeminine" and I will never go the extra mile to conceal them. This, somehow makes it easier for me to be read as androgynous even though I might be wearing the same gym clothing as a fem white woman.

I get the impression that a lot of folks have the misconception of "non-binary" being completely gender-neutral, as if it wasn't 1) and umbrella term, 2) something unique to each person and their lived experiences.

While it's in good faith, some people prefer walking on eggshells when it comes to referring anyone who's not cis, instead of asking, preferrably privately, how we would like to be treated. I have even heard binary trans ppl talk about this. Instances like:

Trans person: "yeah when i was a little boy i loved playing mario kart"

Cis Ally: "you were always a little girl inside!!!!"

Trans person: "its ok i don't mind referring to myself pre-transition this way"

Cis Ally: *brain explodes or worse, they actually overstep*

These are a collection of thoughts and experiences i just put down. I'm not really looking for discourse, I only wanted to express my feelings and hopefully reach anyone who can resonate with them.

In conclusion, while it's well-meaning, I think there's still a lot of misunderstanding around non-cis gender identities, and a lot of people seem to run with meanings or guides they saw on buzzfeed or an HR corporate "diversity!!!" course. To the cis ally, ask comfortably if you are afraid of making a mistake. Listen to us and don't take each experience as universal.

[theburningsunset]

i just remembered rick totally forgot about all demigods being dyslexic, bc iirc that comes up in HoO a grand total of 0 times.

now im trying to imagine the post-pjo heroes having dyslexia and wondering what all we missed out on from these characters in regards to this disability.

for jason, he was raised in the demigod world, since in canon their dyslexia is caused by being "hard-wired" for greek/latin, i can only assume latin is the predominant written language in new rome. what was it like when he first went back into the mortal world and suddenly his comprehension was impaired? would he even know why, knowing nothing but camp jupiter?

for hazel, back in the 30s when the accepted consensus was "its not a real problem ur just stupid"

for all the non-white characters, having a pretty stigmatized learning disability + already having ppl treating you like you're lesser/inferior for your melanin. that's a rough combo, buddy.

for reyna, having to be the Leader™ and being depended on as the picture of capability. a lot of people w/dyslexia are able to develop good reading skills, with varying degrees of difficulty that will always be there. so even if we say hers is mild, what about those moments where it hits when you least expect it, would there be that tiny voice in the back of her head, anxious that they're being judged or scorned?

y'all remember in tlt when annabeth, daughter of wisdom, who would one day be famed for her intelligence and strategy, struggled just as much as percy in reading the sign to medusa's lair and grover had to tell them what it said? such a small moment, but truly so great and subversive to have a character who's heralded for her brains have a learning disability and we see her struggle with it, but there's no joke, it doesn't contradict her intelligence. things like that is part of what made pjo so special.

i feel like there was a lot of missed potential on HoO for that dimension

[jyndor]

it's always interesting to see how white non-palestinians - or white non-latines, or white-non jews, or white people in general - who are critical of bigots and systems of oppression get little to no harassment from anons here, whereas the people we are standing in solidarity with get so much vitriol that it has often pushed people out.

I'm saying that I've seen this before, over and over again. you freaks know what you're doing by targeting marginalized peoples on social media and not their allies.

[exhausted-walking-disaster]

I went to my university's (early)Hanukkah party today and the event itself was lively and fun but something happened as I arrived that still bothers me.

The important thing to note is that I am Mexican American, and a student receptionist for the event space that knew I was Mexican American made an offhanded comment that just blows my mind. She had originally asked me if I was Jewish, than she mentioned "but I've seen you at Latine events/organizations on campus, I've never met any Mexican Jewish person before." That in itself isn't that bad in my own opinion, but I tried to politely explain the Jews did indeed end up in Mexico through the Diaspora and there are Mexican Jewish people. I made a comment specifically about how Sephardic Jews ended up in Spain after being in Israel and from there eventually ended up in Mexico, although the Spanish largely either forcefully converted or killed a lot of the Sephardic Jewish people. She proceeded to tell me "Well that means they're not Mexican because they're invaders and we(Mexicans) are indigenous. They can't be both."

This other student is a very vocal political/social justice activist and all I could think in that moment was how could she possibly deny one's ability to be both Mexican and Jewish at the same time? Why was she so quick to want to shut down the statement that Mexican Jewish people even exist? More comments were made and I just felt so uneasy trying to finish signing in for this Hanukkah party that I had really been looking forward to and I just can't really forget the way she could so easily deny my ability to have both identities at the same time.

I suppose I will always struggle with taking pride in both cultures, as time and time again it seems to be something that non-jews can't understand as they mostly view Jews as white Ashkenazism only as well as the Pro-Palestine movement has definitely been bringing some people to believe the idea that all Jews are white and are racist through social media. The only people I can really talk to are my family and other Jewish people but this just felt like such a huge slap in the face as a convert that also struggles with feeling white-washed in Hispanic spaces due to my family living in America for 5 generations and assimilating in a lot of ways. Just venting I guess.

[1moremilgram-enjoyer]

I'm really glad to ask some (a lot, lol) question~ 1, 2, 3, 5, 6, 7, 12 for Es 2, 5, 11, 12, 14 for Amane and 3, 5, 6, 19, 20, 21 for Kazui ❤

Yay questions!

CW Cults and indoctrination, child abuse, internalized homophobia

Es

1- Favorite song lyrics?

They don't have a lot to pick from, huh? But from Undercover, it's probably:

The fine line between "Hate" and "OK" Shouldn't you look beyond your EGO, before it all ends?

The first line, to me, really encapsulates how black and white the judgement system in Milgram is, and thus how horrendously inefficient it is. There's very little we can actually do to convey nuance in our voting, it really is a choice of just "you're perfectly okay and have done nothing wrong" or "we hate you and think there is no way you could ever be Forgiven", with only the 50% voting line separating the extremes. Sure, we can try to communicate with the voices in their head, but that's highly unreliable and unpredictable, so in practice "hate or ok" are really our only options. And Es' by extension.

Then the other line, asking to look beyond our own experiences to understand people with lives extremely different from our own, and how we have to do it fast because we don't exactly get unlimited time to come to our conclusions.

Though of course, this isn't just about us. Es is the one singing to themself in a way, and seeing how these things are phrased, it really helps show that despite how Es always act in control and on top of things, they still have their doubts and worry about how their judgement can affect the prisoners.

There's also Hibana, and for Es (and in general) my favorite lyric there is:

I don’t want to love a weak-minded love Come on, make it hurt more properly Going so far it’s no longer funny, is surely much more enjoyable come on, melt me more properly

Going by my personal interpretation of what the hell is going on in this cover, this line really ties together the meaning of Es wanting to make decisions with confidence, when it actually gives them extreme anxiety. Which, I do realize makes no sense when you look at the line by itself but I swear it works in the context of the wider interpretation.

2- Favorite MV moment/frame?

They have like three scenes what am I even supposed to say. Anyways it's probably this one.

It's definitely the most intriguing thing related to Es themselves in my opinion, only really challenged by the time they show up after all the smiles. The reason I'm not using that one is that it's difficult to tell whether or not it actually is Es even though contextually it's the only thing that makes sense.

Anyways about this spotlight scene. I like that Es isn't wearing all their uniform; they're missing the cape, the hat, the 'reciffO nosirP' (Prison Officer) and 'tse mudnatibud subinmo eD' ("Everything must be doubted" in Latin) band things... The point is to show that there is a person under all that, Es is not just the Warden. It's still a heavy part of their person, as they're still wearing most of the outfit, the gloves, and the keychain thing, but it's not all they are. Plus the spotlight and their expression, because again, as much as Es tries to confidently judge others, they themselves can get nervous when confronted, when there's a 'spotlight' placed on them.

Anyways I like it :D

3- Favorite non-MV official illustration?

This question made me realize I really don't know how many non-MV illustrations there are lol. Anyways here's the Tumblr compressed version of the third anniversary artwork.

I just love how this looks, and there's two Es'! That's double the fun! Plus them literally trying to grab at the prisoners' minds like grabbing at sand; it always falls off, Es literally cannot grasp what's going on in all their lives. Love it.

5- Favorite voice drama line/moment?

You'd think it would be difficult to pick considering the guy shows up in literally all the VDs.

It isn't.

[Of Blessedness and Punishment] Amane: You're a child, too! Es: Wrong. I'm fifteen, so I'm an adult in Puerto Rico and Haiti. You're twelve, so you're a child no matter the country. Amane: ...!! Es: Hehe. You look angry. Amane: I don't. Es: You do. Amane: I don't!!

The siblings ever. The fact Es completely made up the fact is even funnier.

For something more serious:

[TASK] Es: What is this shit about being a companion? I exist to judge your sins - as a guard! I don't have the need to shake hands with you!  Kotoko: Es? You don't see yourself as the executioner, right? Es: ...!? Kotoko: I've said it before, there are a lot of sinners which the law cannot punish. On the reverse, it is the same, there are also innocent people who are wrongly accused due to unsound laws. You also have the duty to forgive these people, no? Es: Haaah… Kotoko: You are not the executioner who convicts people for their sin. The person who offers to save the murderers who deserve to be forgiven.. It's also you. Es: Aaah.. Mm.. *shallow gasping* Kotoko: Come, Es… then, listen to my sin… Es: *gasp* Prisoner number 10.. Kotoko.. Come..! Sing… your… sins… *sob*

Es angst inject that shit in my soul-

[Imposter Boulevard] Es: It’s a personal dislike of mine. People who act based on their sexual urges like that, that is. Kazui: It’s personal? Es: Yeah. That’s right. Kazui: That’s strange. I did think that, despite being neutral as a Warden, you had some things you dislike, but… Es: … Kazui: Isn’t it unusual to openly reveal a personal dislike as a personal dislike? Es: You’re splitting hairs.

In case it's not obvious, I love when the mask slips a bit and we can tell Es as a person is more than just an extension of the audience. Look! They have personal dislikes! And of course it's Kazui who gets to see a bit of the "real" Es surfacing, because who the hell else would it be?

There's way more of course, but I have to limit myself a bit.

6- Favorite relationships with another character in the prison?

Amane. Again, the siblings ever.

More seriously, it's not just that I love their interactions when they're fucking around, I also love all the parallels and the ideological clashes. The undying devotion to an extremely harmful system. The view of themselves as an extension of a group rather than as an individual ("we? what's we?"). The way they both hate being seen as children, forced to grow up too fast. The way they both try to convince themselves they're happy with their life and condition, to the point it's almost convincing, until you look closer and see the cracks. How Amane hates Es because of what they've done to her, because they're the same as her abusers in her eyes. How Es goes dead silent when Amane brings up their similarities, when usually they'd lash out at the mere idea of the Warden being like a prisoner, because they understand to an extent. AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-

I also love Es' dynamics with most of the prisoners, but Amane is something else.

7- Favorite relationships with another character if they weren't in Milgram, the way you'd imagine or would like them to be?

Honestly, this one's kinda hard because so much of Es' character is directly linked to Milgram. Imagining them outside the Panopticon in general is sorta difficult.

I think they and Amane could still be besties, but other than that, maybe Yuno? I think she wouldn't feel the need to put up a front next to the "I hate everyone anyways" vibe Es gives off, so they'd be judgmental buddies! Just imagine them doing each other's makeup while shit-talking everyone they can think of. Maybe throw Muu in for extra shit and giggles.

12- What do you wish would be discussed more often about them in the fandom?

I mean, literally anything? Es isn't discussed very often, which I guess makes sense, but it's unfortunate. More specifically, I wish people discussed the more concrete things we know about their personality a bit more. There's plenty of posts speculating on what is going on with them; where they came from, whether or not they're related to the prisoners in some way, what is their connection with the eleventh cell, that kind of stuff. And that's all very fun, I love those posts! But I have never seen an Es character analysis the same way I've seen analyses for practically all other characters (<- also hasn't written a proper analysis of them beyond the Hibana cover post). Still, I do understand why people don't, there's a lot of interesting characters in Milgram!

Amane

2- Favorite MV moment/frame?

This is like asking me to pick a favorite child what do you mean. I love her MVs too much why would you do this to me.

Anyways here's my favorite child moment.

Look at her!!! She's going to fucking destroy her mother let's go girlie fucking kill!

I just love how happy she looks here. Plus the eyes, the eyes. This entire part of the MV is great, it just makes me happy to see Amane happy you know what I mean? Plus the whole rainbow and rain and umbrella symbolism, and the fiction bleeding into reality (the eyes!), it's all awesome. I love her so much, she should smile like this when she stabs Shidou in the stomach I think he'd understand.

5- Favorite voice drama line/moment?

I could be cheap and tell you it's the same as Es', but it's really not.

[Apostle and Death] Amane: Okay! I’m kind, so I shall forgive you. That’s nice, isn’t it? If my parents were in my place, you would have been lectured for another hour. [...] Amane: ...isn’t it condescending of you to assume that just because I happen to be a child, I am incapable of hating someone enough to kill them?

Amane Freudian slipping into admitting she fucking despised her mother will never not be extremely entertaining to me. Yes, talk about how much you fucking hate her, kill girl kill!

[Of Blessedness and Punishment] Amane: You fool. Isn't MILGRAM trying to enforce a new standard of judgment precisely because laws cannot guide this world onto the right path? Are you still being weighed down by the law? [...] Amane: "We"? What's "we"? Are you not just "I"? Es: ... I...? Amane: Aren't we the same? Me and Guard-san.

PARALLELS

Also when she attacked Es with scissors. I think Milgram should have allowed it, it would have been funny if the Warden just fucking died before Trial 2 ended.

11- What are your favorite points about their story and the narrative surrounding them?

What aren't my favorite points of her narrative? Again asking me to pick a favorite child here.

If I had to pick one, probably the way the line between her cult's beliefs, Amane's interpretation of her cult's beliefs, and Amane's own desires blurs to a point it's really hard to figure out what she's actually thinking at any given time. Especially because of how Amane views all these things. Her cult is unquestionable but also she subconciously hates a lot of its aspects and twists its beliefs to justify her actions to herself. Her desires are sinful and animalistic (Animal cover and cat parallels go brrrrrr), but she still wants to follow them so so badly. Ugh, internal conflict my beloved.

And also I love how desperate she is to endure everything that's happened to her. Her unrelenting will to survive and go against the people who hurt her, the way she's still glad to have been born, the way she still tries so hard to be happy and make others around her happy. Holy shit this kid is the strongest (in terms of willpower) character in Milgram and no one can tell me otherwise, it's so unfair she has to be that way it makes me immensely sad augh-

And also I love how angry she gets occasionally. How spiteful and rage filled she can be. I will never get tired of seeing Amane in pure, unfiltered fury. Yes, girl, stab Es with scissors, kill your mom, stab Shidou, do it!

And also (could keep going for several thousand words)

12- What do you wish would be discussed more often about them in the fandom?

I think Amane is discussed pretty well here on Tumblr, much as I've heard horror stories about what the Discourse looks like in other sites. But if there's one thing I wish more people brought up is how despite everything, Amane is motivated by the desire to make everyone happy. Positive Parade cover go brr.

Especially in things like the Fuuta situation. I feel like some people see it as just her trying to recruit for her cult or something, when really she's just trying to help him. Same with warning Mahiru against medicine to "save her soul" in a way. Healing the cat. Becoming the "perfect girl", the March Leader with the cloud ribbon, to make her abusers happy. Trying to make the best of the situation by attempting to turn Milgram into an ideal world. Trying to stay happy because that's the one thing she's worked towards her entire life.

In fact, I personally believe this is why Yuuri is depicted in Magic as maybe "kinder" than the others (might make a post about that at some point). Its ordainment is "Thou shall deliver unto those thou believest in", as in, "help those you believe deserve it." This is the one ordainment which is actually kinda in line with Amane's desires, so she imagines Yuuri as less angry at her and more compassionate than the others.

My point is that a lot of the time I feel her actions are talked about as either just motivated by her cult or just motivated by Amane's """sinful""" desires, be it her anger at her abusers or her cravings like wanting to eat cake, when really I think the happiness thing is the main motivator behind those things and it's not quite talked about as much. Does that make sense?

14- Any headcanons on their appearance?

Huh, I usually don't have many headcanons on appearance, but I can try.

I think my favorite is Amane having really sharp fangs. Like, talking anime style unrealistically sharp fangs that make her a terrifying hisser. Cat Amane my beloved.

...

Also she has small (say, 0,5 cm diameter), red circular scars all over her back. Stun gun injuries (no picture on the link) basically. Listen things with Amane can't stay very wholesome for very long-

Kazui

3- Favorite non-mv official illustration?

Uh... Maybe his door?

(That's kinda small lol)

It looks nice as it is, plus it has some nice symbolism as does every door image. I just think it's neat.

5- Favorite voice drama line/moment?

[Imposter Boulevard] Kazui: I despise myself for lying, too. Being a liar, you see – it’s painful. Es: Heh. Then just– Kazui: So I’ve tried to change! I’ve tried to change. I have tried to stop lying to myself and others! Es: … Kazui: I’ve confided in others. I’ve tried to be myself! I’ve tried to just be the way I was born! Es: …Hey, Kazui– Kazui: It’s not my lies that killed her. She’s dead because I stopped lying to her! If I had just kept lying- She wouldn’t have died…! Es: Kazui… Kazui: I can’t live unless I lie. That’s how I was born… I’m pathetic, aren’t I?

I mean, come on. It's the basis of his character and crime, and the voice acting is fucking insane in this section. Apart from how emotional it is, I also like that it still ends in the same somewhat performative self-loathing Es calls him out for in the first VD.

[Gouging in the Night] Es: Showing a hint of weakness and trying to get on my good side like that… Is that another one of your "adult techniques"? [...] Is there anyone who lets themselves get fooled by a specifically prepared "weak" side of yourself? I see, I see… So these are the kinds of skills that you gain when you've lived for a long time.

Gotta love it when a character regrets something bad enough not to be able to forgive himself for it, but he's so afraid of facing consequences and social reprimand because he's built his entire worth around others' opinions that he still heavily plays up the self-loathing to be pitied.

Timelines [23/9/2] Yuno: Haha, we both lie, don't we? The difference is the reason for lying. Kazui-san, you lie to protect yourself, because you're important to yourself. For me, no one is particularly important. That includes myself as well.

Unlike Yuno, who explicitly doesn't want to be pitied. Love these two.

I don't know if I'm explaining it right, but that's what I get from the whole mess.

6- Favorite relationships with another character in the prison?

I love his interactions with Yuno, of course, the Liar Duo. Yuno is such a little bitch to him all the time, I adore it. However, I also love his dynamic with Es, if they count for this question. Kazui's VDs are great.

But honestly Kazui has a lot of good options here. The smoking group with Shidou and Mikoto is fun, his interactions with Mahiru and Amane are also always nice, etc.

19- What do you think their childhood/teenage years were like?

Extremely closeted homosexual, of course. Probably tried to """compensate""" in some way by acting as traditionally masculine as possible, I imagine he was quite the dudebro. With how much emphasis his parents seem to have put on his strength and tradition, I get the feeling he may have been a somewhat stereotypical jock.

That's why I think he may have done a lot of really stupid shit as a teenager and tries to distance himself from them now, which is why he puts so much emphasis on his age despite being less than forty years old. He feels like a completely different person than who he was as a teen, and while he was always self-concious about a lot of shit, he's maybe especially self-concious of the shit he did when he was younger.

Don't take any of that very seriously, though. All of that is practically headcanon vaguely guided by the text!

20- What do you think their social life was like before milgram?

Going off the previous idea, I imagine he only kept a few connections from his teenage years, which is why the one childhood friend he brings up is so notable to him. It's the only one who Kazui really wanted to stick around.

There's obviously Hinako and Kazui's other coworkers, fellow policepeople. The way I interpret the bar scenes in half is Kazui meeting with friends, the bartender being the childhood friend and the woman being someone he met as an adult.

Other than that, I imagine he was pretty closed off and didn't talk to many other people. He seems like the type to enjoy a mostly closed off friend group, but I don't really have anything to support that claim other than vibes alone so.

21- Do you have any similarities with them/relate to something in them?

Uh... I guess personality-wise we're not too different. In real life, I'm quiet and reserved, don't express much emotion, mostly have a "well this is happening now I guess. We vibe though" attitude to most of what goes down in my life, and don't like talking about myself much which yes is making this question sorta difficult.

Thanks for all the questions! This took a while lol.

[blckvenuz]

It’s been a while since I’ve finished listening to this podcast about Milli Vanilli, but this particular moment reverberates in my mind every time I think of them.

Everything Amanda, Chris, and Fab said about how Black entertainers are used and abused, then thrown away by the white people in charge when they’re no longer useful is 100% correct. This is why I always point out that you (a non-Black) can love Black music, media, and fashion, but still have no little to no regard for the Black people producing these things. They aren’t human. Just a prop existing specifically for your own amusement. You don’t have to treat them with respect and dignity in order to enjoy and, eventually, appropriate their culture.

And the plantation owner and Frank comparisons is spot on. Though I just KNOW someone’s gonna listen to this podcast, and try to undermine how big a role race dynamics played in this whole situation. However, if you look at Frank’s track record, you’ll see how he always seemed to profit off of Black artists (and also brown artists during the latin explosion, but I digress).

Anyways, Frank had not a crumb of remorse or guilt and never took responsibility for the pain he caused. And the fact that he couldn’t let them go quietly—he just HAD to destroy any chance of them finding success after escaping him is truly sickening. Like Fab said, he had already made his money. There was no point in doing that other than “proving” that he still had ownership over them and that they were nothing without their ol’ massa.

[marlo-noni]

Thank you @cynosurus for asking if I've ever written about my Mandarin learning journey, because I haven't, and I have stuff to say about it!

So, why and how did this middle-aged white lady learn Chinese? Here's the first part of that story, which focuses on why and how I started, and gets pretty introspective.

First of all, I was born and raised in the suburbs of Vancouver, Canada, and I've lived in Vancouver proper since 2003. We have a very large Chinese-Canadian population. As of 2009, about 30% of people in Vancouver have some Chinese ancestry.

I've always been really into languages. In my first year of university, I studied Latin, and the grammar was so difficult that I wasn't motivated to continue studying a dead language.

So in my second year, in 1999, I started studying Mandarin. I thought (1) it would be a challenge, (2) it's a very useful language to know in Vancouver, (3) I grew up around a lot of overt anti-Asian racism and wanted to combat that, and (4) I wanted to learn more about the Chinese culture that was always around me but that I knew practically nothing about. It also helped that my grandmother, always a free thinker, had been practicing tai chi since 1980 (the year I was born), and my grandparents went on a trip to China in the mid-90s and came back with interesting photos and stories.

I think it also must have been in the zeitgeist in the 90s that Asian culture was cool, and white people wanted to appropriate it. I was certainly into J-pop and anime by then, and I actually wore a qipao to grad (Canadian equivalent of senior prom) that I bought in Chinatown. If you've seen or read Scott Pilgrim, which takes place in Toronto (which also has a very large Chinese population) in the 90s, that gives you a bit of an idea of white Canadians' relationship with Chinese-Canadians at that time.

I say all this just to make it clear that although very few white people in my community studied Chinese back then, and one of the reasons I started studying it was anti-racism, I wasn't some galaxy-brained politically pure being. I had good intentions, but I still lived in that time and did a lot of the same ignorant stuff other white people did. I had Chinese friends, but I cringe when I think of some of the things I said to them and did back then. It has been a decades-long learning process for me.

I'm also very lucky that my university (the University of British Columbia, aka UBC) has an extremely robust Asian Studies program. My Chinese* classes were very intensive - 2 hours long, 4 times a week, with language labs on top of that (I can't remember anymore how long). We got 6 credits per semester instead of 3 because it was double the coursework and class time of a regular class. Because I intended to minor in Chinese, I also took Asian Studies classes, including a general overview of Asian history (2 semesters long), modern Chinese literature in translation, and early Chinese dynastic history.

I studied Chinese in university for 3 years. UBC had two Chinese language streams - one for "non-heritage" speakers, and one for "heritage speakers". They interviewed all the students beforehand to decide which stream we should be in. Being in the non-heritage stream made it nearly impossible to minor or major in Chinese, simply because it takes so long to learn. I would estimate we were only at HSK 2, approaching HSK 3, by the time my third year was done. But the fourth year, the last year, placed all the heritage and non-heritage students together, and the fourth-year classes were reading Chinese literature. One girl in my class, who'd lived in Taiwan before and was the best student in our class, went to speak with a fourth-year professor to ask if she could take his class because she wanted to minor in Chinese. He basically told her it would be impossible. I can understand the university's dilemma, though. I don't know how they teach it now - if they've ever come up with a solution. I think now there are probably more non-heritage students who studied Mandarin in high school. That simply wasn't an option when I was growing up.

The other thing is that I wasn't a great student in university, because I hadn't yet been diagnosed with depression and wouldn't be until my 5th year (I was also working part-time, so I did fewer classes and attended for an extra year). University was slowly making my mental illness worse until I finally had a breakdown in my final year. So my first year of studying Chinese, I got pretty good grades, but by my third year (fourth year of being in university), I was getting C+'s.

So by the time I was done university, I'd say I was at about HSK 2 level, and it was time for me to start working. From then on, any Chinese study I did would be self-study, and like many people's hobbies, my interest waxed and waned over time. More on that in future posts.

(*)at that time, UBC didn't teach Cantonese, even though the vast majority of the Chinese diaspora in Vancouver spoke it. I think that's been historically true for most West Coast cities in North America, although that has been changing. So the only option at that time was Mandarin. Also, we learned simplified characters.

[egyptianrenaissance]

An honest opinion on the Palestinian-Israel conflict

Before carrying out an attack on a certain enemy, one must calculate the consequences. because apparently, the same scenario takes place when it comes to this whole Israel-palestine conflict, which is:-

1- Hamas carries out an attack and ⲕills random innocent Israeli ⲥitizens.

2- The Israeli government fights back and 100s of innocent Palestinians are ⲕilled.

3- The Islamic world complains about the atroⲥities done by the state of Israel.

It’s worth mentioning that this whole conflict won’t change a thing whatsoever, because neither ethnicities inhabiting this land will leave. Plus, it’s unwise to blame the current generations of Jews born in this land because they never really chose to.

Otherwise, Americans/Canadians/Australians/Kiwis of European ancestry should be kicked out of their countries because they are descended from European colonizers. The same goes with Arab tribes inhabiting North Africa, White latinos inhabiting Latin America, Afrikaners in South Africa and the list goes on.

It would be really unrealistic and naive kicking those non-indigenous ethnicities inhabiting the new world out, so peace is always an alternative. But of course, in order for this peace to be attained, both parties must agree on it. Israel needs to stop its aⲣartheid-laws, and muslims need to completely get rid of their Islamist ultra-traditionalist ideologies that caused nothing but harm on the entire region.

For the meantime, innocent people from both parties will continue dying as long as peaceful negotiations are not carried out. But unfortunately, it is currently far-fetched because of the religious fanaticism existing in both sides.

[olderthannetfic]

Goyim goysplaining shit to me is why I don't write Jewish characters anymore. "Well actually that name is this AGAB so the character isn't NB they're *insert AGAB here*" "well actually according to Google you shouldn't have used the word candle you should have said this" "well actually goy is a slur and it's not bad of commenters to use 'Hebrews' to refer to all Jewish people even though I *will* get mad if you call Catholics 'Latins' in response" "well actually it's a kippah not a yarmulke you can't use the word yarmulke it's a kippah" "well actually Jewish people are white so why is this Beta Israeli character not white Jewish = white" "uh excuse me but your Jewish characters didn't exchange Hebrew names that's really unrealistic" "uh excuse me why is your character breaking kosher to stay alive? everything I see on TV says Jews would rather die than break kosher and live - no I don't know or care that pikuach nefesh is a thing I just wanted to correct you on the proper way to write a Jewish character" etc. Whether it's goyim commenting on Undertale fanfics to say all Jewish people would be Red souls (because we don't have individual souls, personalities and colors like the non-Jewish characters, that'd be silly) because we survived the Holocaust or goyim saying Jewish Bruce Wayne makes sense because Jews have all the money, or being confused on how you can headcanon anyone as Jewish who isn't white because Jewish people are white (which is a surprise to my Iranian Jewish self but go off I guess) there is always someone there to tell you that you're not human like other people. These people would never go "oh Latinos all have Red souls and the same personality, definitely" or "Muslim Bruce Wayne makes sense, those people all have oil money" but they'll say antisemitic shit right to your face and then have the gall to be annoyed when you don't like it.

This is why I pulled all my fic without leaving copies up for archives. "B-but I love your fic it's the only multichaptered one for this rarepair!" Well you didn't respect me enough not to say Jews have all the money, so fuck you. "Nooo I loved that fic it had such a good magic system!" Yeah well I didn't love being told my "race" shares a single personality type/soul color so tough shit.

And then afterwards of course they write "Jewish Batfam" fic where there's 1 line in the entire thing where one character mentions Hanukkah once and they pat themselves on the back for being such good, diverse, inclusive writers. They're so woke and accepting and galaxy brained, devoid of prejudice, aren't you going to pat them on the back for clogging up Jewish related tags with fic where skipping one line could erase all presence of Judaism from it? No? Well then why don't you go write your own fic then?!

It's a rhetorical question, but here's the non-rhetorical answer: I don't go write my own fic because I'm tired of having to hear Jewish people talked about the way y'all talk about Tolkien's elves or Undertale's monsters and having to advocate for the idea of treating Jewish people like people is exhausting work.

Literally the only fandom I've ever been in that didn't go "oh well that's just fandom! if you don't like it don't write fics lol" was Star Trek. And even then, you venture outside of AO3 at your own risk.

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