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readyplayerhobi · 4 years ago

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La Douleur Exquise

; Horse Hybrid!Taehyung x Lovebird Hybrid!Reader

; Genre: Fluff, angst, smut

; Warnings: Penetrative sex, dirty talk, unprotected sex, creampie, impregnation kink, filmed sex

; Word Count: 14.9k

; Synopsis: Taehyung is in love with his best friend. The problem? He’s a stallion, a horse hybrid who’s basic instinct is to collect a herd of women to protect and procreate. His best friend is a lovebird hybrid and they mate for life. He knows it’s pretty much impossible to be together and that you’d end up hurt, but what happens when he finds out you love him just as much?

; A/N: So, my first fic in like...two months? I started this fic in early July and honestly...I just wanted it finished. If it seems a bit disjointed or something then it was very stop and start...I hope you all enjoy it anyway and that it doesn’t disappoint or anything! It’s taken a WHILE for me to get back into writing (honestly, I almost left lol). Please reblog if you enjoyed and leave me comments and asks!

“Oh...fuck. Fuck, you’re so big, mmm,” The girl on her hands and knees in front of Taehyung moaned, her ass wiggling in desperation as he thrust his hard cock into her soaked pussy. “Harder, please. Please, fuck me harder.”

He hissed as she clenched around him, his entire length disappearing with ease inside her as his hips moved rhythmically. Large hands groped at the globes of her ass, squeezing them and spreading them wide to give the best view possible. Grunting, he slapped at one cheek hard and smirked when she yelped, jerking slightly.

“Such a pretty girl, so pliant and willing, hmm?” Taehyung questioned, his voice low and brusque as he moved hard enough to cause the room to be filled with the sound of skin slapping on skin. “A greedy pussy, so eager for your stallion to get you in foal, aren’t you?”

She moaned in response, her face unseen to him but her body reacted by squeezing around his cock once more. Running one hand along her spine, he hummed in delight before leaning forward and biting down on her shoulder. It was instinctual, something deep in his genes telling him to hold her steady while he filled her up and impregnated her.

His other hand moved down to her clit, the bundle of nerves still soft and silky with her excitement but also swollen hard with her impending orgasm. Years of experience let his fingertips find the exact spot he needed, swirling them in quick circles and making her cry out even louder, hips bucking beneath him.

“That’s a good mare,” He panted, trailing his nose along her neck slowly. “Come for me, come on, you can do it. Tighten that pussy around me and I’ll breed you as you want.”

Her orgasm hit seconds later, body convulsing tightly around him and he grunted, hips jerking forward even more rapidly. She was whining, a babbling mess beneath him as he continued to stimulate her, the effects being just as pleasurable for him too until he too came.

Pressing into her hard, he felt the slight resistance of what must be her uterus against the tip of his cock but she didn’t complain of any pain. One of the benefits of being a fellow horse hybrid was that a mare was biologically compatible with the large cock stallions had. One hand held her hips steady, making sure she didn’t move away as his balls convulsed rhythmically, each time causing his cock to twitch as he continued to ejaculate inside her.

She was breathing hard now, her body covered in a fine layer of sweat that caught the light perfectly and he hummed in appreciation, finally feeling the end of his orgasm. Slowly, he pushed himself upright and licked at his lips as he gave a few, shallow thrusts to wring out his final moments of pleasure and also make sure she got all of his cum.

“You were a good girl for me. We’ll get a nice colt or filly from you.” He mutters, stroking along her back appreciatively. Her skin was darker in certain patches and lighter in others, a result of her American Paint Horse breeding. It was pretty and he let his fingers trail along with the colour distinction.

Finally, though, he pulled out. The noise as he did so was extremely wet, but that was nothing compared to the rush of thick, white cum that slipped out of her used pussy. Pursing his lips, he looked it over carefully before dragging his fingers through some of it and pushing it back inside her. It didn’t matter, stallions were renowned for the large amount of semen they produced and she was probably filled inside.

“And cut!” Called the director, his voice interrupting the silence of the set. Taehyung let out an immediate sigh of relief and sat back, his cock rapidly softening now that the scene was over. His co-star sat up with a groan, stretching to get out the kinks in her back from the position she’d been in for the last ten minutes.

As she did so, the trickle of cum once more became a torrent, slipping down her thighs to collect on the bed. She didn’t pay attention to it and he didn’t say anything, the two of them used to scenes like this by now. Wheein was a consummate professional and one of the best in the porn industry, just like Taehyung.

“That was a good scene,” She complimented him, smiling in gratitude to her assistant who brought a robe that she used to cover herself up with. “Even if the whole ‘dirty talk’ is a little overdone nowadays.”

Taehyung rolled his eyes in agreement, grinning as he accepted the cleaning wipes from his assistant. Without a care in the world, he began to wipe his cock clean as he continued on his discussion with Wheein. She was quickly wiping down her thighs and between her legs as well. They’d both clean up more properly when they went to their dressing rooms but he wouldn’t be seeing her again after this.

Not unless they worked on the same set again.

“Right? It’s so fucking cringe. I wish they’d hire someone who’s an equine if they’re going to write a script featuring two of us. Who even talks like that?” He muttered, tugging on his robe and tying it closed before slipping his feet into the sandals provided to him.

The laugh Wheein gives is sweet, making her entire face light up. She really is a beautiful woman and her body is equally divine, only made even better by her kind and bubbly personality. Not that she’d been able to show that during this scene of course.

It struck Taehyung that she’d probably make a good mare for his herd. Despite the fact they were lamenting how lame the script was that they’d been given, there were some truths to what they’d filmed. A stallion like Taehyung would actively seek out fertile mares from good stock for his herd to breed with.

The better quality the mare’s breeding, the better his foals would be.

At least, that’s what horse hybrids were meant to do. Wheein would probably even agree to it if he asked. He knew that she wasn’t in a herd already and she’d made it pretty clear to him that she’d be open to something outside of their work if he wanted. His deeply-rooted instincts demanded that he take her home and breed her properly, but he just sighed deeply instead.

He may be a horse hybrid, with all the possessive and protective instincts that provided him as a stallion, but he had no actual interest in living his life like that. Which is why he makes a little more small talk with Wheein before leaving to go to his dressing room. The shower he takes is quick, making sure to rub viciously at his body as he tries his hardest to remove any scent of the mare he’d just fucked.

Hybrids were something that had been created long ago. So long ago, no one knew how they were made anymore. The knowledge had been lost in the Hybrid Revolution, three centuries ago when hybrids had refused to be slaves for their human masters anymore. Ever since they’d been treated as equals to everyone else in society.

That didn’t mean that they’d integrated fully of course. Hybrids of different species more often than not stayed with each other or mated with humans. It did happen though, but the differing instincts meant it often was better for a hybrid to simply stay within their species.

Something Taehyung had always found amusing though was the fact that even within their species, a lot of hybrids would only mate within their own ‘breed’. Wheein was a pure American Paint Horse, coming from a long line that could be traced back to when the humans had been breeding horse hybrids for manual labour, protection services and sports purposes.

Back then, the humans treated hybrids exactly like actual horses. They had a studbook and would breed stallions to certain mares to produce characteristics they wanted. Placid nature, easy to work with, intelligent, quick to learn and so forth. When they’d been released, the breeds had continued on the studbooks to this day.

There were plenty who didn’t follow that ideology, of course, Taehyung’s parents were not the same breed after all, but a lot seemed to put stock in being ‘purebred’. It was just another way to act superior in his opinion.

Besides, his parents may not be from the same breed but he was still technically a breed all of his own. His mother was an Arabian while his father a Thoroughbred, meaning he was a breed called an Anglo-Arab. That was considered a breed in its own right, though perhaps not as prestigious as either of his parents.

Whatever he didn’t care about all that. Taehyung had no real interest in following the cultural norms of his heritage. And the reason for that was waiting for him back at his apartment. The thought of that spurred him into cleaning up even faster, making sure he was squeaky clean before pulling on the clothes he’d removed earlier in the day.

Glancing in the mirror once finished, he sighed deeply and looked himself over. A quirk of his kind was that they looked distinctly hybrid in ways that didn’t match others.

A dog hybrid may have the ears of a spaniel while a cat could have the tail of a Persian. Horse hybrids didn’t have any of their animal counterpart’s physical characteristics though, no tails or ears or anything like that. But their animal genes had manifested uniquely in their skin and hair.

If someone was a bay then they would have brown skin in a range of shades while their lower arms, legs and the space around their mouths and nose would be even darker and their hair a luscious black. Taehyung blended a little better than most other horse hybrids, but for others like Wheein, it was more obvious. Her skin was covered in patches of alternating dark and light while her natural hair grew in white and dark brown.

He knew that certain breeds had distinct characteristics as well. An old high school friend was a Friesian with coal-black skin and the most luxuriously thick, wavy black hair. One of his Taehyung’s siblings, on the other hand, had a Lipizzaner mare in his herd; her skin and hair was snow white. It certainly made them easily identifiable.

Taehyung wasn’t quite so obvious. His palomino colouring was visible; pale white hair that was a little too long and softly tousled matched with rich golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down into a slim waist, currently covered in a loose white button-up. His hair was still wet, dripping onto his shirt while his strong thighs and calves were contained within equally loose-fitting tan trousers.

He didn’t look like someone who’d just filmed pornography, but then again, what did that look anyway? Just a person? Still, he felt a small sense of satisfaction at how well he was going to blend. The last thing he wanted was to go home and have it look obvious what he’d just been doing, even if it was his job.

Chewing on his lip, he grabs his leather cross shoulder bag and exits the dressing room. He promised to get takeout tonight, and he wasn’t going to renege on that deal.

“I have food!” Taehyung calls out, placing the bag of takeout he’d just picked up on the kitchen counter before shrugging off his jacket. By the time he gets back from hanging it up, you’ve already emerged from your bedroom and are pulling plates out of the cupboard while trying to see what he’d gotten.

“What did you get? Chinese?” Looking up at him with a raised brow, Taehyung’s heart stutters for a moment at just how pretty you are. There’s not a trace of makeup on your face right now, you didn’t bother when you were at home, and yet you were still the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

Like him, you were also a hybrid. The two of you had met in the first class of freshman year in college and had quickly become best friends, despite the differences between you both. He’d also fallen deeply in love with you at some point, even though he knew nothing could happen.

Just as he was driven by the instinct to have sex with multiple women to form a herd, you were driven by your instincts. Only yours were dictated by your lovebird genetics, which meant that you were strictly monogamous. As in, once you entered a relationship and truly fell in love with them then you would never have another relationship.

The antithesis of a horse hybrid then. Taehyung had long known that it meant he would never be able to be with you the way he wanted. You craved monogamy and it simply wasn’t in his genes.

So he’d stayed your best friend, and for the last five years since finishing college, he’d also remained your roommate. The two of you shared a mid-sized apartment in the city centre, close to the university that you worked at as a music professor and within easy driving distance of his workplace.

“No, there’s a new Ethiopian place that’s opened close to work. Seokjin was telling me about it it’s a vegan restaurant and I thought it’d be cool to try it out. No idea what you’d like, or what I’d like, so I just got a bunch of things to try.” Smiling at you, he starts to pull out the carefully packaged food and chuckles as you ‘ooh’ at it all.

“Oooh, I’ve never had Ethiopian food before. I’m excited.” And then you turn that blinding smile onto him and he has to let out a deep breath as slowly as possible to stop himself from doing something silly. He’s long been used to his feelings yet you still make him feel like a teenager again.

Once everything’s out, the two of you take it over to the little table that’s set up between the kitchen and the living room and lay it all out. You quickly dart over to the fridge and grab some water for the two of you before settling down and humming in excitement as everything is unpackaged.

Like Taehyung, you didn’t have many physical attributes of your animal side. Which would have been exceptionally strange given the difference between humans and birds. What you did have though, were black irises to match your pupils and the most exquisitely beautifully coloured hair. The front was a blend of peach, yellow and red which slowly morphed into the familiar lovebird green.

It was all-natural and incredibly pretty, suiting your face and personality so well. The original purpose of lovebird hybrids had been as companions due to their loyalty to their partner alongside musical pursuits. Not everyone was great at music but more often than not, lovebird hybrids tended to excel at singing.

Taehyung loved to hear you sing. Or play the piano or any of the other instruments you’d learnt how to play over the years. You were practically a prodigy when it came to the musical arts and he would forever be in awe of just how talented you were.

Your singing was one of the reasons he’d fallen for you so quickly; your buoyant and always effervescent personality had made him determined to befriend the sweet lovebird hybrid in his class. But it was your singing that had truly captured his heart.

The sweet sound of your voice could be as light as a dandelion seed on a summer breeze or swell as loud and strong as a hurricane. He’d been immediately fascinated the moment he’d first heard you sing and it had never let him go. Taehyung genuinely couldn’t imagine his life anymore without hearing your singing around the apartment; from the quiet songs when you were concentrating to the ones you belted out when you were in a happy mood.

He loved it all. As cheesy as it would sound, he just knew that his life would be dull and quiet without his music-obsessed, colourful, chatty best friend. Which was why he couldn’t give up the small hope of something with you. It was a tiny chance, but as long as you remained unattached then it was there all the same and he would grab onto it tightly.

“Did your shoot go well today?” You distract him out of his wayward thoughts with your question and it takes a few seconds of it to truly penetrate his mind and for him to understand. Almost immediately though, it causes him to twist his lips as he begins to spoon out the food he wants from the containers onto his injera, Ethiopian flatbread, that covers his plate. He hated talking about his job to you. It was like a reminder of what he couldn’t have every time.

But he was a big boy, so he took in a deep breath before looking back at you and giving you his trademark boxy smile.

“It went okay, nothing went wrong which is always a good thing. Wheein was nice and very pleasant to work with, good at her job. The script was just as bad as I originally thought.” Snorting at the memory, he takes a mouthful of food and chews thoughtfully as he takes in the new flavours.

“Let me guess...full of lots of over-the-top horse innuendos and dirty talk?” Chuckling to yourself, you take a drink of cold water before tilting to your head to look him over carefully. Taehyung pauses, unsure of himself for a second before quirking his brow at you.

“Yeah, something like that. I shouldn’t be complaining really...no one watches what I make for the dialogue.” He’s very aware that there’s a slight pout to his lips as he looks back down at his plate, missing the way your expression changes to one of sympathy and protectiveness.

“Well...true I guess, but you’re a great actor outside of that. And I’m not just saying that to you because you’re my best friend TaeTae. You’re genuinely good.” Now he does look at you, taking in the way you look at him with concern and he feels a flare of guilt rise in his stomach. Taehyung would never let you know that the only reason he’d started to work in the pornography industry during college was so that he could satiate his desires without dating multiple women or accidentally creating a herd.

The fact that he was still doing it, seven years after beginning, was because he still held out hope. He knew that he could’ve been something better, entered the world of television or film acting, maybe even theatre. But it would have meant having to flaunt an unending trail of women in front of you.

At least he had a valid and acceptable reason for fucking so many women as a pornstar. The fact that he had no emotional connection to the women who worked alongside him now was a bonus, allowing you to see that he was more than capable of leaving his work in the studio.

Giving you a tight smile, Taehyung nods his head in appreciation. “Thanks, chirp. I appreciate it. And I know, but I think it’s too late now. Too old, you know?”

“Pfft, no way. There are loads of actors who didn’t start their careers until they were older! And no offence, but you’re a guy so you’ve got the kind of lifespan that most women aren’t allowed. You’re only twenty-nine!” The outraged response from you is almost immediate, the piece of injera almost flying out of your hand at your reaction.

Thankfully, you’d just eaten the vegetable wat that you’d scooped up already so there wasn’t any risk of the floor or wall being decorated with Ethiopian stew. That would just be a waste of some good food in Taehyung’s opinion.

But that was irrelevant.

What was relevant was your vehement defence of Taehyung and his talents. The two of you had had this conversation many times over the years and yet it never failed to make him smile. You were adamant he could do better and he knew that he could too. But he didn’t want to. Despite how good his acting was, he had no real interest in actually taking it up as a career outside of porn.

He didn’t care for the lifestyle or travelling or fame. Porn worked well for him at the moment. It satisfied his instincts, it paid well enough and he had a manager that ensured Taehyung only received the best directors, co-stars and films.

What Taehyung would love to do, was to work in fashion design. He loved putting together interesting and unique looks while also thinking up ideas for clothes. His best friend, Jimin, had started a clothing brand of his own a few years ago thanks to the money his parents had loaned him. It was doing pretty well so far and Jimin was constantly sad that Taehyung wouldn’t join him.

The older man, he was only two months older but that meant everything to Park Jimin, had tried everything he could think of to lure his best friend into his company. From offering a creative director role to his sub-brand that would operate almost independently from the parent brand, Calico. And Taehyung had promised him that he’d accept one day.

He would as well. Just not yet. It wasn’t time yet.

“Thanks. Anyway, how was your day? Didn’t you say you had some exams this morning or something?” His segue into another conversation works like a charm and you happily begin to complain about the exams that you’d given your freshman students today. It still boggled his mind that you’d willingly insert yourself into college life again, even if it was in a teaching role but you seemed to thrive in the social aspect of it all.

The two of you continue to talk until there’s no food left, every single piece happily was eaten. Admittedly, most of it was eaten by Taehyung as he had a far larger appetite than you did. It was even bigger today given the workout he’d done during his work hours but you’d been content to hand over what you didn’t want to eat anymore.

Or rather, you’d been content to feed him what you didn’t want. Something he’d had to get used to very early on in his friendship with you was that you retained the instinct to feed those you were close to. That’s what you’d told him anyway, though if he was to be entirely honest he hadn’t seen you feed anyone else before.

Then again, none of the friends you both shared in common was the kind of people who would accept being fed, no matter how much they liked you.

It’s a few hours later that you’re both ready to go to bed; eyes sleepy and movements slow after watching three episodes of The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina while curled up beneath the couch blanket as you both digest your food. Taehyung could have happily fallen asleep where he was, the warmth of you not close enough for him to feel but your scent strong enough to lull him into a peaceful slumber.

“I’m going to bed.” You say loudly, causing him to jerk awake quickly as you push the blanket off your body and stand up. It’s not as quick as you’d normally be but the stretch you give combined with the extraordinarily big yawn lets him know you’re pretty tired.

Not a surprise. It was after 11 pm now and you’d been up since 5:30 am to make sure you had everything set for your classes. A slight wobble as you lose your balance causes him to jump up, resting a hand on the small of your back gently to provide careful assistance while he reaches for the remote with his other to turn off the television.

“Careful, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” Taehyung chuckles, kicking away the blanket which had also become tangled around your feet. A quiet hum from you lets him know that you’re more tired than he’d initially thought.

Not saying anything more, he runs his free hand through the pale blonde strands of his hair as he directs you towards your bedroom. The door is closed to the outside world, unlike his, but the interior is familiar to him once you open it up.

One of the habits you had that came from your lovebird side was that you liked to nest. Which meant your bedroom had everything you loved arranged exactly how you wanted it. Your bed was a canopy style, completely cocooned away from the world except for the entrance. He’d been in once or twice to wake you up when you’d been late for something and he would admit to being fascinated by just how dark and...comfy it all looked.

Soft sheets, multiple fluffy pillows and more covered the top of your bed. He’d love to see what it was like to sleep in it one night because it looked like it could easily be one of the comfiest nights of sleep he’s ever had. A bonus would be if you slept next to him.

One of the more fortunate, or unfortunate depending on how you looked at it, aspects of his heritage was that Taehyung could sleep anywhere. He’d even been known to sleep standing up, which meant that he wasn’t that bothered about what his sleeping space looked like.

Taehyung knew it was something of an honour for him to be even allowed in your bedroom, to be honest, given how protective and territorial you got over your own space. It had been amusing for him to realise this at first, particularly given he wasn’t particularly bothered when it came to his own physical space but upon realising you wouldn’t let anyone else in, he’d used it as a badge of pride.

To himself, of course. No one else would care or even be surprised that your best friend and roommate was the only person allowed in.

Shaking his head, he wishes you goodnight before closing your door quietly and heading to the bathroom for his nightly ritual. The downside to being a porn actor was that he had to follow a proper skincare routine to make sure his skin looked the best. Because obviously, people were paying attention to his beautiful face instead of his massive dick.

Not.

Still, it helped to book more shoots. He had a ‘statuesque’ face that appealed to women or something. So he went along with it and had, admittedly, fantastic skin as a result.

The last thought before he finally fell asleep was that he was pretty sure the oversized black sweatpants you’d been wearing were his.

Taehyung doesn’t get to see a whole lot of you in the next few weeks. He’d ended up having to travel for a shoot that lasted a week and by the time he got back, you were on a much-needed vacation with your friends. As such, he was getting a little grumpy at the lack of interaction with you.

Which was entirely the reason that he’d almost jumped on top of you when you’d finally walked through the apartment door; three long weeks after seeing you last. You’d let him know that you’d be coming home today and he’d had to wait as patiently as he could on the couch, pouting at the fact you hadn’t accepted his offer of going to the airport to meet you.

But with everything in the apartment turned off, he’d used his superior hearing to the best of his abilities and had listened as hard as possible for your footsteps. After so many years, he knew exactly what you sounded like when you walked.

So when he finally heard that familiar beat, alongside the rolling of the wheels on your suitcase, he’d leapt up. There may even be a hole in the wall from how forcefully he’d yanked the door open, his excitement causing him to not pay attention to his strength for a moment before he’s giving you the biggest and brightest grin he possibly can.

“I missed youuuuuu!” Whining loudly, Taehyung wraps his arms around your waist and lifts. The squeal you let out soon dissolves into laughter when he spins you around, mentally marvelling once more at how light you were while his sense went haywire with you so close again. He could feel the softness of your hips as he lets you down, smell the soft peach of your shampoo along with the slight hint of sweat after so long travelling.

It was perfect, and something deep within him relaxed.

You were home. You were safe.

“I missed you too, Tae! Can I please actually come in?” Your laughter is sweet, infectious as always and he stands to the side to let you enter the apartment. Without even asking, he gently takes the handle of your suitcase from you and lifts it with no complaints, heading over to your bedroom.

Given he’s not facing you anymore, he doesn’t see the way you practically swoon at the sight of him using his strength so casually. Or the way you almost drool at his broad shoulders in the plain white shirt he’d thrown on today, the muscles working in a way that made your hands twitch.

“Did you have a good time? Please tell me that Yeji doesn’t have some embarrassing story again this year,” While your yearly vacations with your friends were mostly for sunbathing and catching up, he knew that you all enjoyed re-enacting some college years and that copious amounts of alcohol were drunk. “And I’m not saying about you, I mean just embarrassing full stop. I’m still feeling secondary embarrassment over two years ago.”

“A story which will forever remain buried, thank you very much. But no, we were good this year. Or rather, we weren’t good but I think we’re starting to get a little too old to be drinking so heavily, you know? We can’t recuperate the same way and I get hangovers way too easily. I do not have the physiology to cope with their drinking levels!” There’s a slight whine to your voice, making him smile in amusement as he moves over to lean against the doorway of your room.

While he was fully welcome into your space, he knew that you liked it to be your own. Especially when you’d been away for a while.

“Well, I mean...you are a lovebird. I don’t think there are many alcohol-tolerant birds out there.” That gets him a subtle glare, your pretty lips puckered into a pout. It’s an innocent action, something that shouldn’t bother him in the slightest, and yet his heart stutters and his stomach twists on itself.

What he wouldn’t give to kiss you.

Shaking his head, he tries to force the thoughts out of his mind. Honestly, he was perfectly fine when he was away from you. But when you were around, it was like you were all he could think about. Still, it was hard not to when you looked at him so fondly.

“True. There’s no need to point that out though. Salt in the wound much? Anyway, it was fun. They kept trying to get me to swim in the sea but like...no thank you. Water is for drinking and washing, not for swimming around in.” You’re crouched down, unzipping your suitcase and pulling out the dirty clothes before separating them into the individual bins you have.

Unlike Taehyung, who simply separated his clothes when it came time to wash them, you were very tidy and had bought fancy clothes hamper with three sections. This was probably why Taehyung would accidentally end up with a shrunken shirt or pink underwear from time to time. You paid far more attention to that stuff.

“Swimming is fun though.” Is all he responds with, standing back when you carry the laundry hampers past him. Putting the colours into the washing machine, he watches quietly as you add everything before turning it on. It was fascinating how you’d only been home for less than ten minutes and yet you were already cleaning things up.

Not that he’d made the apartment untidy or anything. It’s just you had a different idea of what was clean to him.

“Okay but, you can say that because you’ve got those shoulders to cut through the water. Not to mention you’re strong anyway. Not so fun for the rest of us. And I don’t mind swimming in a pool. Where I can see the bottom and the size is posted. The ocean though? That’s huge. No thanks.” Smirking, he flops down onto the couch and sighs happily when you push him up before sitting down yourself, letting him rest his head on your thighs.

There was no convincing you though and Tae gave up on the argument pretty quickly, not that he was trying too hard. One thing he’d learnt long ago was that you were perhaps the most stubborn person he’d ever known. It was an endearing trait, most of the time.

“Did you audition for that role?” Your question is innocent, soft fingers trailing through his hair that would have him purring if he was a cat hybrid. Instead, it was just making him get the urge to groom you in turn, his fingers twitching with the need. Ignoring it, he forced himself to just enjoy the touch.

“Yeah. Not sure if I’ve got it though. I got the feeling they weren’t looking for someone like me in the role.” It wasn’t surprising really and he wasn’t offended by the producers of the film he’d gone for. Even porn wanted specific people for specific roles sometimes; it would be silly to think he could get every role he went for.

Not to mention exhausting.

“Well, they’re missing out then,” You say, scratching his scalp until he hums in delight. “Anyone who doesn’t want you is missing out.”

Your words make his heart jump, his breath stuttering as he inhales and wonders if there’s a double meaning to that. But you’re too busy watching the show that you’ve started on Netflix to notice Taehyung’s existential dilemma. Part of him is glad, but there’s another part that wishes he was brave enough to bring it up.

He chooses not to engage with it though, instead just sighing and letting himself relax into the cushions of the couch. It’s nice to be surrounded by your scent once more and to feel your warmth.

“I appreciate that, Chirp. But I’m not letting it get me down. Sometimes they just can’t handle all this.” Gesturing half-heartedly to his body, he’s pleased to hear you laugh at his joke. The sound is sweet, even if the two of you lapse into a comfortable silence after that.

You’re too busy watching your show while he’s half dozing off, eyes closed and breath getting deeper as he starts to drift away. It’s comfortable on the couch, with the temperature just right and his body perfectly relaxed. Which means it’s unsurprising that he falls asleep pretty quickly, completely unaware of anything that’s happening around him as he sleeps.

Taehyung is more than a little disoriented when he finally awakens; the room dark and silent with the lights and television switched off. Frowning, he blinks rapidly before rubbing at his eyes with a hand while sitting up. Stretching his arms out above his head, the groan he lets out is one of relief as stiff muscles relax and a few bones crack.

Reaching out to the coffee table blindly, he grabs his phone and winces when the bright light almost blinds him. Unfortunately, he hadn’t been hugely blessed with the better night sight horses had. Well, he could see better than humans but nothing amazing. Didn’t make it any better when he was subjected to bright light suddenly though.

“Ah, fuck.” He curses, squinting until he can finally focus on the screen. It’s not too late, but it’s a good two hours or so since you’d finally gotten home. Frowning, he just sits there for a moment as his mind finally catches up with the fact he is awake.

Yawning loudly, he finally pulls himself up and decides he should probably go shower before collapsing into bed. Taehyung hadn’t even realised he was tired, but it could have been the comfort of knowing you were back and safe. It wasn’t like he was some over-protective asshole who needed to know your every movement - more that he just felt more content when he knew you were okay.

Walking to his room, he’s scratching at his exposed stomach lazily when he hears the sound of your voice. The door leading to your bedroom is firmly closed but there’s light at the gap on the bottom. His enhanced hearing means that he can easily hear everything you’re saying, which is nothing new.

Over the years though, he’s learnt to carefully block out anything you’re saying when you’re in your room. You deserved your privacy, even if he couldn’t help the fact that he could hear everything perfectly.

And that would have been exactly what he would have done right now. Just carried on through to his bedroom and continued with his plans. Only he can’t help but stop when he hears the familiar syllables of his name. Taehyung knows it’s wrong, but the way you said it is different than normal.

He can’t help but listen, expression curious and his head tilting without even realising it. Your conversation is one-sided but he pays careful attention, still in the middle of the hallway.

“-you know Taehyung, he’s always being attentive and sweet. It’s just his nature, he’s like that with everyone. Yuna...it’s just Tae. He hugs everyone, you’re looking too much into it,” There’s a longer pause now, presumably your best friend talking extensively to you. “Come on, isn’t that what you always tell me? We haven’t seen each other in a while, it’s not surprising he got all touchy.”

Taehyung frowns, lips twisting as he begins to understand a little. Or at least, he thinks he does. If he’s right, Yuna thinks that he likes you. His cheeks heat up as he realises how obvious he’d been with his feelings, even though you make a good argument against it. But you’re wrong and Yuna is very much right.

He does like you, and he’s not quite as touchy-feely with everyone else. Taehyung isn’t even sure how you got that opinion. The only other person he’s remotely as affectionate with is Jimin, and that’s only because he’s known the calico cat hybrid since they were babies. Tae’s mom had worked with Jimin’s mom for decades now, which meant they’d grown up with each other.

“Yuna,” Your whining now, voice going high pitched and your words getting longer. “I thought you were the one who was telling me that I need to get over Tae! And now you’re telling me he’s obviously into me? Make up your mind, woman! Do you want me to ignore my feelings for him or consider telling him? And no, you can’t backtrack in a week or so like you always do. This is serious. I’d be humiliating myself by telling him.”

It’s almost like the world has paused around Taehyung. For a second, he almost feels dizzy and has to rest a palm against the wall as he sways. Your feelings...for him? Did he hear that right? Was he twisting your words into what he hoped you were implying?

Before he can contemplate it anymore in his mind, you go on to say something that shatters the norm for Taehyung.

“It would be humiliating Yuna, you know that. You know what I am, we’ve talked about this. God, I can’t tell Taehyung I love him because then that’s it, I’ve sealed my fate and I won’t be able to get over him. It’s already hard just trying. Having him know? I can’t, not when he can’t give me what I want.” There’s a pain in your voice and his heart twists, stomach bubbling in a way that almost makes him want to vomit as his world changes.

You love him. You. Love. Him.

“It’s not his fault Yuna, we’ve gone through this so many times. I have my instincts and he has his, I’m not going to get angry at something we can’t change. Please...can we just talk about something else? Something that’s not going to make me cry and spend all night thinking? We agreed that we’d try to get me over this, dammit.”

That’s the last thing Taehyung hears as he walks quickly back to his room, having decided that he’s heard far too much of a conversation he clearly shouldn’t have heard. Guilt roils in him, flooding his veins as he flops down onto his bed and stares at the white ceiling of his room. He feels dazed and confused, not sure what he’s meant to think about this sudden change in events.

Taehyung being in love with you was something he’d long ago accepted. But he’d also accepted that nothing would happen from it because of what you wanted in life. Finding out that you wanted him too was game-changing. It was also heartbreaking to know that the only reason you both weren’t together already was because of his instincts.

Suddenly, he sees his career in a whole new light. What was a coping mechanism for him to reduce his innate desires and allow him to give you all the best bits of himself, was probably pure pain for you. The knowledge that you loved him was both exciting and, surprisingly, horrifying.

He knew that love birds would only have one partner, and from what he’d read over the years it meant they only really truly loved one person. If you felt this strongly for Taehyung then did that mean he’d stolen any other choices from you? He’d been holding back to make sure you had a chance to be happy but had he just made it worse?

Swallowing thickly, Taehyung realises there are tears in his eyes as he wonders if he’s ruined everything. The logical part of his mind knows that it’s not his fault if you’ve fallen in love with him, just like it wasn’t your fault he’d fallen for you. But he certainly hadn’t done anything to truly push you away, to try and get you to find someone else to fall in love with and enjoy a happy life.

Had he been selfish?

Rolling onto his stomach, he buries his head into his pillow and lets out a yell. It’s a good job your hearing is only on the level of a normal human because he was positive the extended noise he made would have brought you running otherwise. And he needed to think right now.

There’s probably a solid ten minutes of silence in his room as he lays there, unmoving while his mind races through all his options. If he admitted that he’d overheard you, then he would probably embarrass you. Taehyung would jump at the chance to finally date you, but he knew that you wouldn’t be able to cope with his career.

You were supportive of him now, but you weren’t in a romantic relationship with him. And he doubted you would be comfortable with the knowledge that he was coming home to kiss, cuddle and have sex with you after having done the same things with random women earlier in the day.

If he was honest with himself then Taehyung knew that he wouldn’t be happy with that too. Despite how he was raised, his mom had been one of many mares in the herd his father had kept over the years, he wanted to be the one for you. Which meant he wouldn’t be content to do things with other women that you only wanted to be done.

He wanted the traditional relationship that many horse hybrids would wrinkle their nose at.

So, he had to figure out how to navigate that.

Lifting himself, he grabs his phone and opens up Google. Taehyung didn’t know many horse hybrid’s who wanted to have a monogamous relationship, but he had met a few over the years. Racking his brain, he tries to remember what they had talked about when he’d queried how they could cope with only being with one partner for life.

Despite his interest in the topic, he’d been young at the time and had still very much enjoyed sleeping with as many women as he could. His feelings for you hadn’t quite become what they were today, so he hadn’t listened too intently. Taehyung regretted that now. Tapping his lips for a moment, he contemplates what to write before he begins to type his request into the search engine.

Horse hybrid hormone inhibitors.

It’s three weeks later when Taehyung finally feels comfortable and knowledgeable enough to make a move. He’d made an appointment with his doctor the very next day after overhearing your conversation. He specialised in hybrid care, in particular those for equine hybrids like Taehyung along with the rare donkey or zebra.

Which meant he wasn’t all that shocked at Taehyung’s unusual enquiry. He probably got the occasional query from an equine hybrid about how to be monogamous. It was rare but not unheard of after all. What had shocked him though, was the fact that it was Taehyung asking it.

Kim Taehyung, the infamous porn star who had built a living on his ability to fuck his way through multiple women on camera. Who had his damn fanbase based almost purely on his cock for god’s sake? It was embarrassing to think about, but he’d known what he was getting into when he’d signed the contract in the first place.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy his job because he did. Taehyung hated that he did, but the sex with many women helped to alleviate all those deeply held instincts and urges within him. Still, now that he knew about you he had no intention of carrying on with his career. Not when he had a chance.

Which was why he’d admitted his feelings towards you to the doctor. Something he’d never thought he’d end up doing, but once everything was out in the open then his doctor was far more understanding of Taehyung’s request. Even encouraging of it. Taehyung was pretty sure that he found the whole story a little sweet and romantic.

Either way, they’d worked out a plan for him to make his life easier if you accepted him. Medications that he would need to take to reduce the overwhelming instincts that drive his hybrid nature and would allow him to engage in monogamy. The idea of that was unbelievably exciting and he’d begun to take his medication only days after the appointment.

After that, he’d gotten together with Jimin. Their weekly hangout usually occurred in a bar, a restaurant or sometimes just hanging around one of their apartments. His best friend had shrieked with delight when Taehyung had explained his predicament and what he was doing to go forward with.

Which had led him to finally asking Jimin if that job offer was still on the plate if everything went right. Taehyung wanted to finally pursue his dream of being a fashion designer and it was so tantalisingly close. He was on the verge of finally having the life he’d always wanted. Hopefully with you.

The first week of being on the medication, which reduced the high levels of testosterone he produced and helped to inhibit his base reactions, had been rough as hell. Taehyung had been on the verge of calling in sick for the first time to a shoot, his body struggling to cope with the change in his body. But he’d pushed through and two weeks later, here he was.

Nervous as fuck and waiting for you to finally come home.

Everything all depended on if you’d accept his request to start a relationship. A serious, romantic relationship that was entirely monogamous. If you said yes, then he had a lawyer all set up to break his contract and a contract just waiting for him with Jimin.

Although really, he’d be quitting his job no matter what happened. He was tired of the porn scene, even if he’d met some wonderfully kind and talented people there. Taehyung had finally decided that he would be moving on with his life and accepting the job with Jimin.

It was up to you whether you wanted to be alongside him, and in what capacity.

The pizza he’d ordered for you both arrived at the same time you came home; a large box of vegetable pizza held in your hands and amusement in your pretty eyes. It makes him smile brightly to see you happy, knowing that you’re pleased he’d taken care of dinner tonight. Especially as it was from your favourite pizzeria; six different kinds of cheeses combined with peppers, onions, eggplant, tomatoes and spinach.

Your favourite kind of pizza, alongside a bottle of red wine that he’d already filled a glass with to let it breathe. The amusement soon turns to suspicion, your brow rising as you kick off your shoes and shrug off your coat.

“What’s all this about?” Gesturing at everything, you settle onto the couch next to him with your legs curled up beneath you. Taehyung bites his lip, sighing softly before reaching out and opening up the box. He doesn’t explain for a few minutes, just letting you both eat a slice of pizza while he watches his beer on the table.

He felt like a teenager, his stomach fizzing with a combination of excitement and nerves that almost makes him feel nauseous. Maybe he shouldn’t be eating right now, but he hasn’t been able to eat all day so far. There would be no use in making himself ill. It would be mortifying for him to throw up all over you.

By the time you’ve eaten two slices, Taehyung has only managed one. But he’s decided that he’s waited long enough. It’s time.

Taking in a deep breath, he lets it out slowly before clearing his throat. After so many years of being friends, he knows that he can talk to you about anything. There are many memories that he’d much rather forget that you’d seen of him, such as that awkward time when he’d had an upset stomach and hadn’t been able to get to the bathroom quick enough.

Not his finest moment and you’d gagged more than once but hey, it was all a bonding experience. Right? Or was that just his opinion on it?

Still, Taehyung found himself pausing; his words sticking in his throat even as he mentally told himself to pull it together. You’d seen all his low points and his highpoints, he did not doubt that you would treat his question with the respect it deserves. But it was still a worry that you might turn him down.

Maybe you’d finally found someone else and wouldn’t want him anymore. The thought made his chest hurt, but he had to know. He had to get the answer to the question that had burned in his thoughts for years now. If you rejected him then he’d be hurt but he’d get over it, especially if it meant you found your happiness.

So why was it so hard to get the words out?

“Hey, are you okay?” Your shoulder bumps into his, pretty face dipping low to catch his eyes. He should have known that you would have realised there was something wrong, or that he wasn’t quite being himself. The way you look at him with such worry and concern makes his anxiety melt away, causing him to smile before he nods.

“I have something to ask you. I mean...you can say no. Please don’t worry about that, if you don’t want to then tell me no. I’ll accept it, I promise. You know I’d never try to force you, right?” He winces, realising that he’s messing this up already given the way your brow creases in confusion. “I mean, god I’m fucking this up. I’m sorry. I just...I have to be honest with you. I accidentally overheard your conversation the other month. I didn’t mean to, it was when you’d come home after your vacation and I’d fallen asleep so I was going back to my room and I overheard you.”

Taehyung is babbling, and he realises that when you gently press a finger to his lips. It would be nice to say that you didn’t look bothered, but there was fear on your face that made him feel sick.

“I believe you.”

Your words are so soft and he almost hums in delight as you run your fingers through his hair, grooming him without even realising. It makes him smile, both at your steadfast belief in him and how you always want to be touching and cleaning him in some way. His fingers itched with the desire to groom you in turn.

He restrained himself, fully aware that if he did then it’d just end up being one half an hour of you both trying to clean each other. The perils of two social hybrids who both have a culture and instinct for grooming. Not what he wanted right now.

The reassurance you give him, combined with the unwavering belief in your eyes, convinces him to just say it. To just get it out and lay his cards on the table. He was nervous, sure, but he’d been nervous many times in his life and he’d overcome all of those moments.

“I heard you say that you like me. In a romantic way. I was really surprised at hearing it, mainly because I didn’t think you’d ever looked at me that way before. Not when I’m the opposite of what you’d want in terms of a relationship. But I want you to know that hearing it made me the happiest I’ve been in a while. Because I like you too. And I have done for a while now. Years.” He says it all with a carefully neutral face, watching you carefully to see if he can gauge your reaction.

For a moment, your expression is a perfect picture in neutrality. The Switzerland of faces, giving nothing away and not letting him see anything that’s going on in your head. It’s frustrating for him when he’s probably feeling too much, but he doesn’t push. Just waits to see what you’ll say.

“What?”

Okay, so perhaps not the eloquent acceptance of his feelings that he’d expected. But it’s not an outright rejection. He can work with this, there’s potential here.

Licking his lips, he takes a deep breath before carefully shifting until he’s facing you on the couch. Your eyes are so wide, shining in the light and making him think it looks like you hold the secrets of the universe deep within. He can’t help but smile at it, at how young and innocent you look.

Smile at the tentative hope he thinks he can spy.

“I like you, Chirp. Like, like you. Probably would use a stronger word if I wasn’t already afraid I’m scaring you away. I know that I’m not what you’d want in a partner, which is why I’ve never made a move over the years. But I’ve always hoped, which is why I never got a herd of my own,

“I love being around you, I love hearing you sing and laugh, I love talking to you, I love hearing you talk to others, I love how you’re so affectionate and always want to groom me along with chatting my ears off. I never said anything though, because most of all, I valued our friendship. And I knew that you wanted someone who could be your life-partner, something I wasn’t sure if I could be.” Taehyung pauses, twisting his lips before looking down at his hands.

“But then I heard you talking and I realised that there might be a possibility. A small one maybe, but I knew I had to at last try. Something I want you to know though is that everything I’m about to tell you that I’ve done has been done for myself because I finally realised that I have to move forward with my life. So, firstly, I talked to my doctor and I’ve started some medication that helps to inhibit my instincts when it comes to relationships and sex.” Pausing, he eyes you to gauge how you’re taking the news.

The head tilt you give is very birdlike, causing him to chuckle without even meaning to. He can’t help it though, not when you look so sweet right then with your bright hair and big eyes.

“I don’t have the urge to have sex with lots of women or make my herd anymore. We talked about it extensively and decided this would be my best course of action to allow me to have a healthy, monogamous relationship. Because of that, I’ve also quit my job and taken up the offer Jimin’s been giving me for years now.”

Despite the fact he’s mid-confession to you, the excitement in his stomach at that very moment is more to do with the fact he was going to finally have his dream career. That he was going to be doing a job which he’d been wanting to accept for years.

Understandably, his words cause you to suddenly gasp in delight before you’re clapping your hands eagerly. The excitement and happiness are purely for him finally taking proper control of his life, ridding himself of the pornography career that he’d enjoyed but hadn’t loved. Something you’d known for a while now.

“Oh my god? You’re going to work with Jimin?! You took the job! TaeTae, I’m so happy for you!” Even though he’d just admitted to you that he was near enough in love with you, your emotions were purely focused on the fact he’d taken the job. Feeling your approval and genuine joy at his life change, he can’t help but give you a wide, boxy grin even while the apples of his cheeks turn a soft rose.

“Thanks, I think Jimin was more excited than anyone to be honest. Pretty sure he’s already organising a design space for me in his building alongside an office. Makes me feel kind of bad for waiting so long to take him up on it but I feel like I’m finally at a place in my life that I’m truly ready for that career change.” That seems to remind you of what he’d told you earlier, about his medication.

Your elated expression slowly fades and he watches in trepidation as your brow creased, the mood dimming. Were you unhappy with his choice? Taking a deep breath, he holds it for a moment before letting it out slowly.

“I want you to know that there is no pressure on you. For anything. I’m going to continue taking this medication because I want to focus on my new career without having to worry about any urges taking over. The side benefit to it means that...well,” He pauses for a moment. “I can have a proper relationship. Or at least, the kind of relationship that you’d want. If you want that. With me.”

There’s complete silence in the room and Taehyung feels the sudden urge to grab another slice of pizza and start eating. Just for something to do with his hands and to distract himself.

He doesn’t push though, just lets you process what he’s told you. It was a lot, so he wasn’t even particularly expecting an answer tonight. If he were being honest, then he wouldn’t be surprised if you took yourself off to your room for the night. Or even went to one of your friends to talk it over with them.

But as usual, you surprise him. You may be small and dainty compared to him, light as a feather and full of cheer, but your personality has always been big and bold. Which is why you tackle the topic head-on.

“I didn’t mean for you to hear, you know that right?” Is your first question and Taehyung nods quickly, reaching out to encompass your much smaller hand with his own. There’s nothing too familiar about the gesture, just a squeeze of reassurance to let you know he understands and isn’t mad or anything.

“I know. It was entirely my fault. I should’ve carried on as soon as I heard that you were talking but I just heard my name and...well.” He trails off, giving an awkward smile that causes you to smile in return. The gentle pressure on his hand makes him realise that you’re now trying to assuage his fears that you were annoyed.

“Hey, it’s okay. You may not have too many physical features of your animal side but you’ve got plenty of their abilities. We both know that you can’t control the fact that you can hear much better, so I don’t blame you. Nor do I blame you for stopping to listen. Especially when you realised what I was talking about,” Now it’s your turn to look abashed, gaze skittering away from his and down to your still joined hands. “I’d have done the same thing if I heard you talking about me.”

Swallowing, Taehyung wonders how he’s meant to respond to that. He didn’t know what he’d say anyway as his stomach feels like it’s full of butterflies suddenly. Really big, horrible butterflies that are making him feel nauseous.

“So yeah, I’m not angry or annoyed over that. Please don’t worry too much. If anything...I’m kind of glad. Because it means you’ve confronted this head-on and now we both know how we feel about each other. Which is that we like each other. A lot. In case it wasn’t clear, I like you too. Really like you. But I also thought it wouldn’t work because I know what I want and need from my partner in my life and I knew that your instincts clashed with that. Again, not your fault. You can’t deny nature and I tried to make sure that you never felt like I was.” There’s a hint of something in your voice but Taehyung can’t figure it out.

Pain? Embarrassment? Worry?

Whatever it is, he doesn’t get a chance to query it because you forge on. The sweet lovebird he’d known for years seems to be wavering between shyness at talking about your feelings and determination to have everything laid out.

He can understand the feeling.

“You know, I’ve fantasised about this for years, but now that it’s happening-”

“You don’t know how to communicate what you’re feeling and it’s all way more awkward and not nearly as romantic or sexy as you’d imagined?” Taehyung finishes for you, biting his lip as he grins broadly. You snort in amusement before nodding, playing with his fingers for a minute or so as you try to rationalise it all in your head.

“Did you go on whatever that medication is...for me? Like...because you wanted a relationship? With me? I know you’ve said it’s also because you wanted a career doing something you’ve always wanted but…” Trailing off, you can’t seem to look him in the eyes.

Carefully, he uses his free hand to lift your chin until he can see you. There’s a brief moment where you try to avoid his gaze before you give in, staring back just as deeply. Nerves, fear and hope are warring within him and he imagines that he can see it reflected in your own eyes.

“I’m not going to say no because overhearing your conversation was what spurred me to talk to my doctor. Finding out that you liked me back and that I might have a chance with you made me want to try to make sure you get the best of me. I knew that there are horse hybrids out there who have monogamous relationships and who are happy, but I didn’t think that would be a possibility for me. And given what I was doing for my career, I thought it was just better to carry on as I was,

“But then when I was talking to him about it all, I realised that it would help me in other aspects of my life too. Yes, I could finally offer you the kind of relationship that you want and that I want to have with you, but it would also let me leave behind the porn and start focusing on what I want to do. You know that I’ve never really been one of those stallions who wants a herd and the porn helped me to get rid of those urges without giving in to them properly. I looked into it for you, but I took it for me.” Licking his lips, Taehyung realises that he feels lighter.

Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders and he realises it’s because of what he’d told you. He’d been convinced that he was doing this to have a chance with you in the way he’d always dreamed of, but it was startling to realise that it was having such a positive effect in the rest of his life. For once, he was no slave to his instincts and had full control over himself, his emotions and his desires.

Just the thought of never having to do another film filled him with joy and happiness.

“Good. I wouldn’t want you to have changed yourself for me. But given that you have...what does it mean? Tell me.” Those pretty eyes, so big and wide, watch him intently and he gives a small half-smile as he shrugs with one shoulder.

“I mean...it’s basically like an inhibitor I guess? Reduces the amount of testosterone I produce, makes me less reactive to the scent of mares in heat and all that. There’s a whole bunch of medical stuff that I don’t understand but I just know what the doctor told me. It’s safe, it’s been tested many times before, and if things don’t work out, then I can come off them and be back to my old self. It just means that I won’t have the desire to have a herd or to...well sleep with multiple women, you know? Let’s be monogamous, a one-woman man. Finally.” Chuckling to himself, he runs his fingers through his pale hair so it’s out of his eyes.

“So...we could be together? Like...in a relationship? Just me and you?”

“Yeah. The doctor said that as long as I’m on the medication then I’ll be like any other human or hybrid who doesn’t have a poly instinct. Not that there’s anything wrong with that obviously, but it means we can be together. In the future, if you want to be in a relationship or something...then if we decide to have kids or to not have them, I can get gelded and that’ll get rid of the instincts permanently.” Now your eyes widen in horror, hand covering your mouth as you gasp loudly.

“Gelded? They’d castrate you?” There’s a glance down from his face to his groin from you and he can’t help but laugh at the thought. Even if it does make him want to cup his balls protectively.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay! It’s okay! It’s just a vasectomy. Because I’m a stallion, it’s called being gelded. After that, I’d be officially known as a gelding. No longer able to have babies and with no real instinct to make my herd anymore.” Thankfully you look relieved at that and he wants to tease you about being so worried about his testicles. But instead, he just feels happy that you don’t tease him in turn about talking about potential babies already.

That’s a good sign.

“Okay. Okay...so, let’s think about this logically. I mean, is that being too cold? You admit that you like me back and you’re on medication to allow us to be in a relationship and I’m saying we need to think logically?” Taehyung pauses you with a finger to your lips, a smile on his own before he carefully wraps his arms around your shoulders.

He makes sure to give you plenty of time to make sure that you can pull away if you want to if you’re not comfortable with this, but you don’t. Instead, you almost seem to relax into him and link your arms around his waist. You can probably feel his heart beating through his chest, the muscle working extra hard while he feels a little breathless.

It’s not the first time he’s held you, but it feels different this time. There’s something more intimate about it and he can’t help but take a deep breath in, enjoying your scent.

“It’s fine. I’m kind of glad because I’ve made a complete mess of explaining myself here. So at least one of us can think more logically about it.”

“You didn’t do a terrible job. I mean...I’m certainly not going to vote for you or anything but it wasn’t bad. My question to you then...are we dating now?” And just like that, Taehyung’s breath is taken away. To the point, he almost chokes on his spit and ends up having a coughing fit.

Directly into your face, ruining any hint of romance.

Yep, he’d truly fucked this confession up. Taehyung was just lucky that you’d known him for so long that it just made your nose wrinkle as you wiped at your face with your shirt, grumbling lightly before pushing his shoulder.

“Gross.”

“Sorry! I wasn’t expecting that though! I mean, you just straight up asked. I was expecting like...more talking and exchanging feelings. More awkwardness.” Leaning away from him, you give him a very droll stare that makes him wince. Well, at least it was awkward now.

“Sorry for not living up to those weird expectations I guess? I just figure that we’ve spent long enough dancing around each other, right? I don’t want to waste any more time or have any more miscommunication so if it’s too abrupt for you then I’m still not sorry. I like you, Kim Taehyung. And given what you’ve told me, and what you’ve done for me, I want to finally have that relationship I’ve been wanting for so many years.” The authoritative tone in your voice is more attractive than he’d expected, causing his brow to rise.

Feisty.

“Okay. Yes. Yes, we’re dating. Together. We’re together. Boyfriend and girlfriend. I need to shut up.” Clamming up, he forces his mouth to shut and for his muscles to remain still. In reality, he wants to jump for joy and scream out that this was happening. Even if part of him is embarrassed that he’s incapable of talking now.

It’s all worth it though when you give him a huge smile, so big and bright and full of happiness.

“You’re cute, you know that?” Now he’s blushing; cheeks high and a delightful rose as he tries to contain his smile. He’s supposed to be cool, the epitome of an educated man who is extremely experienced around women. And yet here he is, acting like a teenager getting his first girlfriend.

“Not what I normally get called.” You’re the one who looks a little shy at that, your eyes darting away from his as you bite at your lip. There’s a hint of nerves to you now and something else, something he can’t quite figure out. The way you wiggle slightly in place has him frowning in confusion, wondering what’s made you suddenly so quiet. This was the behaviour he’d been expecting from you, so it felt a relief to finally get it but also strange given how confident you’d been.

“What’s wrong? Where’s my bold girlfriend gone?” Gently poking your waist, he tries to ignore the thrill that rises inside him when he calls you that. It was going to take some time to get used to it.

Thankfully, it also manages to breakthrough whatever shell you’d suddenly formed around yourself. Grasping his hand with your own, you let out a soft whine as he continues to prod at you and he quickly intertwines his fingers with your own. For a moment, he’s too busy staring down at your hand in amused awe to remember what he’d asked you.

“Your hand is tiny, you know that?”

“No, you just have huge hands. All of you is huge, just like all of me is small. The difference between a horse and a lovebird.” Now it’s your turn to push at his stomach, a small smile on your face. Taehyung grins at that, but he grins, even more, when he catches your eyes flicking down to his lap.

It all clicked into place in his head, from the way you got shy at him saying he’s not normally called cute to the way you call him huge. You’re not wrong; Taehyung is massive when compared to you. Denser bones add to it at all, allowing him to lift and move heavy weights with ease whereas you’d developed a lighter bone structure that was more reminiscent of birds.

Taehyung had never broken a bone before, whereas you had to be careful doing certain things. But the size difference between you both was made even more obvious when he thought about sex. He was bigger than most human and hybrid males down below, and he wondered if there was something wrong with him that the knowledge you knew that turned him on.

Not that you’d ever seen him naked or anything, but you weren’t stupid. He was infamous in the porn industry for a reason.

Which suddenly made him consider something, his head tilting slightly as he narrowed his eyes at you.

“Have you ever watched my stuff? Like my films or anything? I know for a fact that some of them are on those free porn sites.” Biting his lip, he watches closely for any positive sign. One of the benefits of being a horse hybrid was that he was highly attuned to microexpressions in others.

Originally meant to watch out for danger and keep himself safe, it was more useful for getting an idea of where a conversation was going. It also made Taehyung feel very stupid that he’d never noticed you were in love with him before.

He doesn’t need to have any extra abilities to read your face right now though, not with how you look almost like you wish the floor would swallow you whole. You can’t even meet his eyes and it delights him.

“You have!”

“No! I wouldn’t do that, you’re my best friend. That’d be weird.” Taehyung can sense the distress in your voice and he forces himself to tone down. He had no issues with the idea of you watching his stuff; if anything it was a turn on. But this relationship was so new that it had barely been born and he didn’t want to push your boundaries just yet.

Still, he felt like he had a right to know.

“Hey, listen to me, it wouldn’t bother me if you did. I actually would find it a turn on to know you’ve watched me. I hope you weren’t upset though, I only did all of that to satisfy my instincts so that I could enjoy my time with you. But I made those films and videos for people to enjoy. If you got off to some of them that I’d consider it a job well done. Don’t feel embarrassed if you did.” Using his free hand, he lets his fingers trail along your cheek. It’s warm beneath his touch, the blood rushing in response to your tumultuous emotions and he reassuringly runs his thumb across it.

“You’re...you’re not bothered by the idea of that?”

Taehyung chuckles at your disbelief and shrugs genially, making sure to portray an aura of calm and serenity. The only thing that bothered him about the idea of you watching his videos was that he was already sporting a semi at the very thought of his supposed ‘innocent’ best friend watching him railing some mare.

Which should be a terrible thought, but it just meant that he was all the more experienced for you. There would be no doubt in his mind that he could show you a world of pleasure that you’d never even imagined; as pompous and egotistic as that sounded.

Sex was his area of expertise though.

“I mean...I knew it was a risk when I started. I make porn. Porn is available freely on the internet and I fully expected some of my friends to be at least a little curious. Plus, there’s the whole ‘horse hybrid’ thing going on. I don’t tend to get embarrassed easily around sex. If anything, it’s kinda exciting knowing that you’ve seen some.” You’re giving him a look of pure confusion and he can’t help but laugh heartily.

Oh, he loves you. He loves how befuddled you are at his refusal to adhere to your expectations. Given how reserved you were normally about sex and relationships, it was delightful to shatter your illusions surrounding him and make your perusal of his work sound like a benefit rather than something to be ashamed of.

“So...what did you think? You’ve never given me a rating before, so I’m curious.” Once more, your eyes dart away from his and he has to stifle a snort at how you suddenly find the wall so interesting. The artwork on there was nice, he’d picked it out himself, but it wasn’t that nice.

He doesn’t push though. What he wants is for this relationship to start on trust and honesty. So if you want to trust him enough to be honest about your opinion then he’d accept that. If it was still too early for you; he’d accept that too.

“It was good. I mean, I haven’t watched much. It was years ago and only a few minutes before I felt weird. Like I was spying on you. That’s it though! I swear I haven’t seen anything else. It felt like I was...perving on you or something.” Grasping at his hands desperately, you give him such big eyes that try to get across your honesty.

It makes his lips quirk in amusement and he links your fingers together once more, squeezing lightly. For a few moments, he considers how to respond to you before deciding to just go for it. Which means he slowly leans forward to you, eyes flicking down to your lips and giving you plenty of chances to pull away and leave.

“Don’t worry about it. It’s a little bit of a relief, knowing you’ve seen at least something. But most importantly...can I kiss you?” Taehyung swears you deflate, your entire body seeming to relax with a deep breath you let out.

He’d be worried if it wasn’t for the huge grin that you have painted on your face now, the delight making your skin almost glow with health and happiness. It’s a beautiful look and he feels like he’s enraptured once more, falling in love with you all over again. At least now he has an outlet for these mushy feelings.

“Finally!”

There’s only time for Taehyung’s eyes to widen in shock before you’re shaking your hands free of his own and grasping at his shirt. With a surprising amount of strength, you jerk him forwards and his lips crash against your own. That’s the only way to describe it, as it kinda hurts. His lips mashed against his teeth a little and his nose bumps against yours, causing him to whine.

You let him go almost immediately, looking intensely embarrassed as you rub at your mouth and nose. He does the same, making sure that there’s nothing wrong with his beloved nose while licking at his lips to soothe the dull ache. But then he can’t help but laugh, the sound bright and rumbling up from his chest as he contemplates what just happened.

Every time that he thought you would zig, you instead zagged. Over the years, he’d learnt to go with the flow with you in regards to this with his friendship but for some reason, he’d never quite realised that it would be much the same with a romantic relationship. You defied his expectations and made him feel like he was constantly on his toes.

He loved it, including when almost headbutted him with your first kiss.

“I am so sorry-” You start, your eyes wide and worry emanating from you. He shakes his head, trying to stifle his amusement before reaching out and cupping your face with a gentle touch.

“Okay, how about we try this again but...a little slower this time, yeah?” Keeping your face steady, he inches forward until he can feel your warm breath on his cheek. You’ve already closed your eyes in anticipation and he has to squash the desire to grin, instead fulfilling both of your wishes by pressing his lips against your own.

It’s a soft and gentle kiss at first, exploratory and uncertain. Neither of you knows how to kiss the other properly, or what the other likes, and so you both simply...take your time. Taehyung’s thumb strokes along with the softness of your cheek while your hands flatten against his chest, palms hot where they rest.

He’s kissed a lot of women in his life; some he’s proud of, some he’s not and some he doesn’t even care about. But this is the best kiss so far. Even as slow and unsure as it is, it’s still the best.

Because it’s you.

There’s more than a hint of inexperience in your kiss and it doesn’t surprise him. He knows that you’ve at least kissed a few people before, but you didn’t have a huge amount of experience in it. Instead, it’s just enough that he feels comfortable but not enough to have you take the lead.

So he does, instead. And given how bold you’d been earlier, he takes the initiative to be bold this time as well.

With almost minimal strength required on his behalf, he slips his hands down to your hips and grips them tightly, lifting and depositing you onto his lap without breaking the kiss. He doesn’t even make a noise as he does so, your weight nothing to him.

His ancestors had been bred for heavy lifting and pulling, after all.

What he doesn’t anticipate though, is the way you moan into his mouth or how you wiggle slightly at his action. Pulling from you, one brow lifts as he looks you over inquisitively. His question is silent, but you understand it immediately. There’s nowhere for you to look now, not when you’re so close to him.

So you stare at his chin instead, carefully avoiding his eyes as your hands move to play with his soft hair. The blonde strands are almost golden instead of platinum in the soft light of the nearby lamp, just visible in his vision from where you stroke them.

“I forget how strong you are sometimes.” The words are muttered and he gets the impression that you’re hoping he doesn’t hear. And that he won’t query it further. But he does, of course, he does.

“Do you have a strength kink, Chirp?”

“Wha-no! That’s, why would I-” Spluttering, you lean back a little and take a moment to shuffle until you’re more comfortable on his lap. Your legs are on either side of his now, comfortable in their almost kneeling position but most of your weight is on his legs. He takes the opportunity to wrap his arms around your waist and tug you closer, enjoying the warmth you give him.

“It’s cool if you do. I can fulfil that. Not yet though, if that’s okay. But I need you to know something right now. I don’t want us to have sex right now. Not yet. Since being a teenager, I’ve been obsessed with sex. An unfortunate side effect of being a stallion. For the first time in my adult life...I don’t feel an insatiable need for it. And it’s kinda nice. I don’t want us to start our relationship with sex. I want us to explore each other and our relationship first and then introduce sex. I need to learn that sex is something intimate and between only us now. I’ve spent too long viewing it as work.” He tries to make sure that his words are carefully said and that he’s not rushing them, but now he’s the one a little nervous.

You’d been far bolder than he’d ever expected and now he was worried that you might expect sex from him immediately. It was an easy, even acceptable, assumption to make given what he was and his career. But he didn’t want that. As he’d said, he wanted to start this relationship with love and trust.

Lust could come later.

There’s no answer from you for a moment and he sighs, letting his hands awkwardly stroke at your sides in an attempt to give them something to do.

“I’m sorry if that’s not what you were expecting. Or not what you wanted. I’m a little surprised you’ve been so forward with me and-” A soft fingertip presses against his lips, causing him to quieten instantly.

Smiling softly, you lean forward and kiss him. It’s just as chaste as the one previously, only you’ve controlled yourself a little more compared to your first attempt. He takes solace in it though and now his body is the one deflating. There’s a silent acceptance in that kiss.

When you finally pull away from him, he finds himself chasing after you. It’s an odd sensation for him to do that without any intention of going further but he finds that he likes it. There’s no doubt that you can feel what’s going on in his pants; he can’t control everything after all but just because his body is saying yes doesn’t mean his mind is.

And you accept that. He can tell instantly, from the reassuring smile you give him and how you embrace him so warmly and carefully.

“It’s okay, Tae. I’ll admit to being a little disappointed but I can understand your reasoning behind it. And I’m not going to force you to do something you don’t want to. I know you’d do the same for me. I guess it’s just going to make it better when we finally do get to it, right?” Teasing him, you stick your tongue out and poke at his cheek.

Almost immediately, his nose wrinkles and your laugh lightly. For a moment, the sounds are almost like chirping and he can see your lovebird origins so clearly. That was to say nothing of the fact that you were now subconsciously grooming his hair, fingertips running through the platinum strands and getting rid of any unfortunate kinks or knots.

“Thank you.” He whispers, letting his hands wrap around your waist until he’s hugging you. It takes minimal effort to have you plastered against him, head resting on his shoulder as he embraces you so tightly. You smell heavenly, and he wonders what he did to be given the chance to be with you after so many years.

“Can we go on a date though? I mean...like now?” Tilting his head back, he frowns before looking at the table and the pizza boxes.

“What? Where? We’ve already eaten?”

“Okay, but I’m kinda horny and you’re kinda horny and I think we both need to talk a walk and cool down. So...how about we have our first date? I’ve been waiting a while for this, Kim Taehyung.” Your smile is so big and bright, dazzling him and making his stomach flutter.

He doesn’t even realise he’s nodding until you practically launch yourself from his lap, rushing over to the door and chattering away. If he was being honest, he had no idea what you were talking about as you quickly pulled your shoes on and sorted out your bag.

Taehyung didn’t even care, because he’d done it. He had the girl he’d been in love with for years, who he’d been certain he had no chance with. You could regale him with a thousand and one tales and he’d listen to them all with a content smile because he was yours, and you were his.

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anharmlessguest · 5 years ago

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My C.A.R

The differences between culture as it spans across generations are clearly highlighted by the films, The Farewell and The Debut. Times change, but people are often resistant to change. People naturally gravitate towards the familiar, and as a result they do not adapt to culture as it shifts. Once the new generation comes with their unfamiliar beliefs and practices, the gap is created. However, despite these differences, there can still be similarities. Both The Farewell and The Debut have these similarities as major plot points.

In The Farewell, Nai Nai clearly does not have a very good opinion of Aiko, Hao Hao's fiancee who only speaks Japanese. She complains about the flaws she perceives in her directly in front of Aiko, knowing that she does not speak Chinese. This conflicts with Billi, who does not think her perceived flaws are important. The entire interaction shows a distinction between the older generation and the newer one - The newer generation is far more tolerant than the older generation.

Billi's disagreement over the fact that everyone is hiding the fact that Nai Nai is terminally ill from her leads to a clash between her and the rest of her family. She believes that her grandmother has the right to know, but everyone else insists that it must be kept a secret. She discusses this with her uncle, who directly tells her of the difference between the American style individualism that Billi was raised with, versus the Chinese collectivism that everyone else in the family is used to. The older generation was raised to always consider the group first, contrasting the younger generation that was raised to always consider individuals first.

Another example of individualism versus collectivism in the film is the older generation's obsession with breeding new spawn. As soon as a handsome young doctor showed up to give Nai Nai her (false) diagnosis of health, I immediately knew what was up. Without skipping a beat, his marital status was immediately asked and when he stated he was not married, Nai Nai suggested he get together with Billi. Of course, both of them were rather uncomfortable with such a sudden suggestion, as they were of the younger generation that did not consider such matchmaking to be appropriate.

On the other hand, the similarity between the two generations is their tendency to tell lies to each other in order to alleviate worries. At the beginning of the film, both Billi and Nai Nai lie about where they are so they do not worry about each other. Later, Nai Nai lies about her state of health, even as she takes a visit to the hospital, in order to prevent her family from being worried about her. Billi falsifies a health report, so that the illusion that Nai Nai is healthy can be kept up. It is even revealed that Nai Nai once lied to her own deceased husband about his terminal illness, ironically mirroring her current situation. As a result of keeping up with the lie, Billi is never able to say her final farewells to her grandmother (though in the end it is revealed that Nai Nai survived her terminal illness).

The Debut much more clearly emphasizes the conflict between the older and the younger generation. Ben clashes with his father Roland over what he wants. He is harshly criticized by his father for his desires, which is likely what distances him from the rest of his family as he does not want to associate with them when they do not support him. In the end, however, he is able to reconcile his differences with his father.

Ben wants to go to CalArts, while Roland intends for him to accept a scholarship to UCLA so he can become a doctor. In fact, Ben's parents even try to force him into the role by falsely telling others that he intends to become a doctor. Ben seems to regularly get into fights with his father over this, as the time he spends practicing his drawings infuriates Roland. In addition, Ben wants to go to a house party with his friends, but the party is occurring at the same time as his sister's traditional debutante. He attends his sister's birthday party, but after another argument with his father he decides to abandon the debutante so he can join his friends for the other party.

Eventually, after Ben returns to his sister's birthday party, he gets into trouble with his former childhood friend Augusto. The two fight, but the fight is broken up and Augusto is discovered to have been carrying a gun. Ben's grandfather, the family patriarch, witnesses this. After the party is over, Roland is himself harshly castigated by his own father for the mistake of inviting Augusto and his parents to the party, showing a similarity across generations. It is revealed that Roland was once a budding singer, who gave up his dreams and become a postman so that he could start a family in America, and that Roland's father had wished for him to take a different path as well. Roland is labelled an embarrassment to the family by his father, which seems to be a catalyst for a change in his stance on Ben's wish to become an artist.

Lastly, there is a theme of racism in the Debut, which is portrayed in a negative light. Augusto's stepfather is a white American man, and it is shown that Augusto shows no respect towards him. Others at the party gossip about Augusto's mother for being with a white man. Furthermore, Augusto taunts Ben for being a "sellout" that only hangs out with white people, which is what starts their fight in the first place. Even at the end of the film, two of Augusto's friends get into a fight with each other, with one complaining that Filipinos who were raised in the Philippines and came to America with their customs are only making the Filipinos who were born in America look bad.

Ben and Roland's disagreement over Ben's choice of career most likely stems from the poverty that the older generation faced when they first came to America. As a postman, Roland did not have a very impressive income. He had to slowly crawl his way out of poverty, and even now that he is a successful adult with a family, he is still notably poorer than the kids of the new generation. He laments that he cannot afford the fancy cars that they have, and that he cannot afford a proper debutante ball for his daughter (which his father later berates him over). Meanwhile, Ben never had to worry about starvation, and his father is frustrated that he does not take the threat of poverty as seriously as he does. Roland simply wants Ben to have a stable and lucrative job so that he can enjoy life, while Ben would prefer to have a job that he can enjoy life with. A similar discussion is had in The Farewell, where Billi's aunt Yuping has a discussion with Billi's mother Lu Jian over whether life in America or China are superior. Yuping, a member of the older generation in the sense that she was raised to live in China, emphasizes the economic opportunities of China. Lu Jian, on the other hand, has spent a significant amount of time in America, and emphasizes that America offers the opportunity for one to follow their dreams.

Nai Nai's disapproval of Aiko and the racism in the Debut are examples of the older generation's views on interracial relationships, which themselves are caused by xenophobia and colonialism. Two older women believe Augusto's mother thinks too highly of herself for being married to a white man, and this is likely a belief that stems from Spanish colonization of the Philippines. Spanish settlers were no doubt wealthier than the native Filipinos, and as such it would be considered fortunate to marry into a white family since that would grant one access to their wealth. Obviously, this belief would survive across the centuries. Meanwhile, the Chinese are famously xenophobic. This stems from their own Imperialism during China's history, as China had always dominated Asia. The Chinese believe that they are the best in the world, and that other cultures are inferior. During the Imperial age of China, their neighbor countries were always forced to pay tribute to the Emperor, and everyone outside of China was considered a barbarian. While these days family members will not stop you from marrying a non-Chinese person, they will likely consider that person an outsider.

The war between individualism and collectivism is an endless one, and mirrors the cultural clash between the West and the East. The East is very old, and the Confucian teaching of filial piety has heavily reinforced the idea of collectivism - That one should always sacrifice themself for the sake of others. Meanwhile, the West is new. The ideas of individualism were founded in the Enlightenment, specifically the ideal of Liberty - That one should be free to do as they please. The East never truly embraced that ideal, and since the two ideas are nigh incompatible, a conflict exists.

I myself empathize with the protagonists of both films. In terms of The Farewell, I would most certainly like to know if my death was coming, because it would give me time to come to terms with it so I can enjoy the rest of my days in peace. But more than that, I've personally experienced or personally witnessed just about every single issue I've brought up in this blog.

The first is the lying. When I was young, whenever I received hongbao my mother would confiscate them and take the money, saying that she was saving it for my college fund. I trusted her better judgement, and since I wasn't allowed to spend my money anyways I let her keep them. In reality, she was just giving the hongbao to other kids so that she wouldn't have to make them herself. Meanwhile, I was constantly lying about my grades to my parents because if I told them I had bad grades, I'd get in trouble. And I had mediocre grades pretty often. I wouldn't get anything for telling the truth either, so there was no incentive to do so.

Multiple members of the younger generation in my family have experienced the disapproval over interracial relationships. One of my cousins has a homosexual relationship with a white woman, and my family barely even acknowledges her existence. Another one of my cousins is engaged to a white man, and at family gatherings none of the older generation really interact with him besides my cousin's parents. Meanwhile, obviously Asian outsiders who are in relationships with family members are asked all sorts of questions, as if they are being probed before they join the family.

I have also additionally experienced the older generation's obsession with the younger generation being in relationships. Of course, the older generation tended to get married sooner - The people of the older generation tended to get married at a younger age, so it's understandable for them to question us on the status of our relationships when we're at the age that they married at. When I was a teenager I was considered to be very handsome by all the middle-aged ladies of my family (I don't know why they don't think I'm handsome anymore, but I'm not particularly interested in being considered attractive to a bunch of older women anyways) and they were always asking me whether I had a girlfriend or not. It literally got so bad that they started asking me if I was gay (I am not). When I visited Japan, my father needed to get some medicine, so he visited a Japanese pharmacy. He does not speak Japanese, but he does speak English, and a worker at the pharmacy was very helpful to him because she also spoke some English. He was so impressed with her that he asked if she was single and if she wanted to be introduced to my unmarried older brother. My father is also constantly otherwise trying to introduce other unmarried women to my older brother through his network of friends. It is very embarrassing, but it did give me a sense of what's about to immediately happen if you're moderately attractive and a person of the older generation even so much as compliments you.

Lastly, the conflict that Ben had with his father Roland really hit close to home. Ben wants to become an artist, while Roland gave up his dreams of being a singer so he could come to America and give his son the opportunity to become a Doctor. I too, would just like to pursue my hobbies and possibly even make money off of them, while my father gave up his dreams of being a singer, a scientist, a politician, and a general so that he could come to America and give his children the opportunity to get PhDs. He complains to us that he's the only one in his circle of friends who only has a Master's degree and not a PhD. Fortunately, my father has come to terms with the fact that it's way too late for any of us to get a PhD, and that he will have to settle for computer scientists, accountants, and pharmacists.

#aas218midsem #AAS218RaymondA

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shartiplier · 7 years ago

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Mark Got Me Going

I haven’t really organized my thoughts on the matter I’m going to cover in this post as much as I should have, but that’s part of what this post is going to be for.

This is a super long read so if you to read a lot of shit on gun rights, go ahead and be my guest. I’m just going to list some of the planned walk-outs and places where you can donate before the cut-off.

Walk-Outs/Protests

March 14th - Coordinated by the people behind the Women’s March, it takes place at 10 AM. You walk out for 17 minutes, in silence. One minute for each person who died in the Parkland shooting.

March 24th - March For Our Lives. This is a plan that actually started at Marjory Stoneman Douglas High School, but has spread since. It’s a plan to march on Washington, but there are sister marches all over the country.

April 20th - A school walkout planned by Lane Murdock. You wear orange and walk outside at 10 AM, demanding for a change in gun control legislation.

Donations

March For Our Lives donation pool. Proceeds go towards efforts in changing gun control legislation.

Official Stoneman Douglas Victims’ GoFundMe. If you plan on donating through GoFundMe, make sure to always double-check who you’re donating to.

Donate to Anthony Borges’ official GoFundMe. Anthony was shot five times while protecting his fellow classmates. He’s in stable condition as of now, but he will need multiple surgeries in order to fully recover.

Contact Your Representatives

(202)-224-3121 - The Capitol switchboard. Once you’ve reached the operator, tell them the representative you want to speak to (it has to be YOUR representative!) and they’ll put you in line with the rep. You’ll most likely be talking to an aide, so be kind and polite. Tell them what you want, and make sure to let them know that the action taken by your representative will influence how you vote in the future.

Text RESIST to 50409 - This is the Resistbot. It will help you get in contact with your reps by faxing your messages to them.

Please list more below if you know more!

Click “keep reading” to read about some of the reasons why we need gun control.

Mark recently uploaded a much needed video addressing the situation we’re in with gun control. For him, that is such a deep risk due to the fact that this argument is so passionate and is split down the middle so this could cost quite a bit of fans and reputation. Not only is it a risk, but it’s also extremely personal seeing as he grew up handling guns. But, he understands the movements laments what the victims, the families of the victims, and anyone who knew the victims, are going through.

This argument is not black and white. If we ban assault rifles, criminals will still find them BUT it will be increasingly harder for them to access them due to them falling out of general circulation. They will be able to buy them off the black market, but a lot of these school shooters are kids. They are not going to get on the black market to order a military grade weapon that they probably can’t even afford, they’re going to try and steal it from their parents or friends. If those parents and friends don’t have the weapon from the get-go, then we have a far less risk of shootings with these mass casualties happening. The reason why this happens so much is because it’s so easy to get a hold of the means to do it.

Politicians are suggesting that, instead of banning a weapon that the general public has absolutely no need for, we build electric fences around schools, install metal detectors, and have even more police officers patrolling the campus and create a perimeter. So, in other words, a prison. School is already hard for kids to attend as it is, due to dislike of the prison-esque schedule, the pressure to do things that students don’t really want to do, and the immense stress kids are put under for no reason other than justification of the unfathomable amount of testing. Prisons are mentally damaging due to the stress, isolation, and fear (not just that, but these are the three that pertain to my point). Is that the kind of environment we want to create for our students? Stress them about not only the overwhelming amount of students, their homework and testing, and walking onto campus? That’s asinine. And on top of that, it’s proposed to arm the teachers. What in the ever-living fuck are you guys thinking? “Oh, let’s put guns in the hands of teachers so when one of them snaps and shoots up their classroom we can attack the county for insufficient screening of the teacher.”

I’ll admit that my view on this whole issue was more radicalized than not a couple of days ago. I had the stance of banning all guns, which I can say is just unadulterated stupidity coming out of grief and anger on my part. That does not change the fact that military-grade firearms (AR-15, AK-47, M16 are the most well known legal military-grade firearms) are not something your average citizen needs to have in their hands. They serve no beneficial purpose for hunting, nor do they serve much beneficial purpose for defense unless you’re being attacked by a huge group of people. In the likelihood of that event happening, it probably won’t happen when you have your semi- or full-automatic on you. The primary purpose of these weapons are to kill large amounts of people in a short amount of time. As Mark stated, there is no beating around the bush about this. Cars kill far more people than guns do but the difference is that cars are made and issued for transportation, guns are not. Driving licenses have a better screening process than guns ever have and probably ever will in this country. The deaths caused by cars are nearly all unintentional, whereas that is not the case with guns.

Let’s look at some statistics from the Gun Violence Archive. In 2018, in America, there have been 34 MASS SHOOTINGS as of today. That’s insane, considering it’s just February. There have been 399 teens killed (only 14 of which are from the Marjory Stoneman Douglas shooting), and 81 children. That’s 480 kids that have died in an inhumane, drastic, manner. There have been 7,659 incidents in the 53 days of 2018, only 246 of which are unintentional and 219 of which were in defense. That means there have been 7,194 intentional shootings. 2,111 people have died and 3,603 have been injured. This is not okay. This shouldn’t be a normal thing in American culture, but it is.

I’m going to close this off by saying: it is your consitutional right to own a firearm, but it is a privilege to own an assault rifle. Keep in mind that the second amendment was written during a time where we were scared shitless of the British and where the common weapon fired 3 rounds a minute, not 45. Your fun does not come before the safety of others. If you truly think guns should be used for defense, then you should have no issue with the gun control push right now.

Thank you, Mark, for posting that video. I’m really happy that you’ve been using your platform for good, and that is why you’ll always serve as an inspiration for what I aim to be. You’re making a difference in the world.

@markiplier

#markiplier #markipliertag2 #marjory stoneman douglas shooting #marjory stoneman douglas #marjory stoneman douglas high school #gun control #gun rights #second amendment

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sockparade · 4 years ago

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ill at ease

I can still picture the grin on Milan’s face that day as he walked into the office with a Starbucks frappuccino in hand. I have a hard time remembering a day when Milan didn’t arrive at the office with a Starbucks frappuccino in hand. So it wasn’t out of the ordinary. But it was noteworthy that day because the week before a video went viral of two Black men being arrested at a Starbucks in Philadelphia because a white employee was uncomfortable with them asking to use the restroom and sitting in the coffeeshop while they waited for a business associate to arrive. Something non-Black folks do all the time. People were calling for a total Starbucks boycott.

I raised my eyebrows at his drink, and he shrugged saying, “Look, I’m not going to let the actions of some racist white people take away my freedom to get whatever drink I want.”

And like, yeah, I objectively understand how that’s an imperfect political stance and maybe an ineffective strategy to create change, but also, man, I really felt that. In order to protest Black men being arrested for sitting in a coffeeshop (read: for being Black), was I really going to try to tell a Black man about where he should or shouldn’t get his substandard (ha) coffee fix? Try to convince him about the importance of voting with his dollar? Can’t a person just live?

I just didn’t have it in me to disagree.

I often think about that exchange whenever I hear a call to boycott such and such corporation or a call to cancel a celebrity. I mean, listen, I do believe in the power of an organized boycott or protest. There is concrete historical evidence and contemporary examples of how people have bossed companies and the government into doing what we demand. But I don’t want to keep pretending that it’s an easy switch to flip or that it’s a cost-free way for people of color to fight against the inequity in the world.

That Starbucks incident was just one in an endless number of incidents in which a white person says or does something that reveals their racism, forcing people of color to do the emotionally taxing, unending math, of just how much caucasity we’re willing to stomach.

This is a really old story. Marginalized groups of people have always had to bear the brunt of publicized racist behavior. For every racist incident, there are generally three major phases of emotional labor that people of color in the United States have to work through. At first I could only name two but then I realized it’s actually three. Let me walk you through them.

First, before any explicitly racist incident happens, we have to contend with the fact that there are generally such slim pickings in terms of choices that will allow us to exist ethically and stay true to our convictions. How do we earn a living? Where do we grocery shop? What authors do we read? Whose music do we listen to? Are there ANY electronics that are manufactured in an ethical way? Do we wear checks or not? Are the non-white teachers at this preschool treated with respect by the white owners of this preschool? How do I reduce my purchases on Amazon? Is this restaurant gentrifying the neighborhood? Wait which banks have divested from fossil fuels again? Can I truly be myself at this church? What athleisure brands haven’t been accused of overt racism yet? Where are the influencers that look like me?

When it comes to the consumption of and participation in… well, almost anything, we constantly have to make concessions because we live in a place that’s simply not built for us. It is so hard to name a single sphere of life that I enjoy that isn’t dominated by whiteness or the white gaze. I think my MO for some time now has been to assume that no brand, company, restaurant, actor, or celeb is truly *safe*. I’m generally always waiting for the other shoe to drop while also trying not to think about it too much. It’s a lot of mental gymnastics.

I was at a lecture a few years ago on the topic of the “doctrine of discovery” and the systematic oppression of Native American nations. It was a large auditorium in Berkeley full of neoliberal mostly white folks. The lecturer read a rather dismissive opinion rejecting the Oneidas attempt to reclaim land that was criminally stolen from them in violation of U.S. treaty (Sherrill v. Oneida Indian Nation, 2005) as a shockingly recent example of how this oppression has continued. And then theatrically, he revealed the author to be none other than Supreme Court Justice Ruth Bader Ginsberg. There was a loud, audible, collective gasp from the audience.

I mean, no, I didn’t know the Notorious RBG had that in her. But also, I’m not over here clutching my pearls. I’m not saying I’m proud of my jaded mentality. I’m just accustomed to it. As Tressie McMillan Cottom says in her essay “Know Your Whites” in Thick: And Other Essays, “I am not disappointed. If you truly know your whites, disappointment rarely darkens your door.” I’ve been seeing more and more of this language with the virality and frequency of racist actions being caught on video and circulated on the internet. People will say, “I’m not surprised, but I’m mad.” It’s too overwhelming to feel shock and pain every single time. So we steady ourselves for the eventuality, we brace for the pain. Know your whites, y’all.

The second phase of emotional labor is related to the actual injury. We feel the deep pain of injury even if we don’t know the person that was harmed or the person who caused the harm. I think people are sometimes quick to dismiss the behavior of rich and famous people as irrelevant and reduce discussion of it as simply celebrity gossip. But I think there’s pain whether it’s a murder, an arrest, or a racial slur. I know it can be hard to tell by the overwhelming amount of white tears shed on social media after each viral incident but the marginalized group targeted by the offense carries the pain so differently than anyone outside of that group. Try as we might to muster our empathy and our vague-ass Christian lament, it’s just. not. the. same. It’s not. Sometimes it’s so painful that I don’t even fully let myself go there. I haven’t been able to bring myself to read in detail about the recent hate crimes against Asians since COVID-19. I feel squeamish about it. I feel pain when I read stories and see pictures of families being separated, detained and deported but I know for a Latinx person that pain must be so much deeper. And I absolutely cannot fully imagine the pain that Black and Indigineous folks in America endure living in this place.

And then finally, there’s the third phase of labor. This is the part when we’re called upon to react, call it out, bring awareness, advocate for change, and make swift changes (big and small) in our own lives. Sometimes I feel judged (by others and by my own conscience) when I don’t boycott or abstain. And sometimes I just try to skip to this third phase because I don’t want to deal with the grief of the second phase.

After this past week’s twitter feud, lots of folks are ready to cancel Alison Roman for the trash comments she made about Chrissy Teigan and Marie Kondo in her recent interview in The New Consumer. It feels like there’s a sudden clamoring to point out just how white Alison Roman is, and how there’s new evidence that she’s racist. And I guess what I want to say is, um, it’s not really much of a reveal nor is it brand new information. Right? Roxana Hadadi in her recent article titled, “Alison Roman, the Colonization of Spices, and the Exhausting Prevalence of Ethnic Erasure in Popular Food Culture” gives a pretty detailed explanation of just how unshocking it is.

Prior to reading this interview in The New Consumer, did anyone really think Alison Roman had an astute analysis of her white privilege and her accompanying habit of cultural appropriation that she’s benefitted from her entire career? No! While certainly gross, was I shocked that she mocked imperfect English (regardless of whether it was in reference to Marie’s accent or a Eastern European cookbook)? No! Am I shocked when any person mocks an accent? No! We’ve *allowed* it in TV shows, in movies, in corporate settings, and in social settings. I cringe every time but I’ve been forced my whole life to accommodate it. I’ve heard mockery of accents maybe most often from second generation immigrants mocking their own culture’s accents! And If I’m completely honest, I still sometimes find myself guilty of laughing along. (Curiously, Alison Roman’s lengthy apology made no mention of that part of her interview. Perhaps she, and/or her PR team, realized there was no easy way to walk that one back.) Race relations are a fucking mess in our country, y’all. Let’s please stop pretending like it’s just the occasional ultra-public celebrity slip-up.

Hear me when I say I’m not defending her fuckery. What I’m taking issue with is the lack of nuance and the self-righteousness in how we respond to these public brouhahas. Both the shocked reactions and the gotcha reactions expressed by people feel equally tiresome to me. This reflection, written by Charlotte Muru-Lanning, is one of the few three-dimensional, unflattened, and self-searching reflections written by a person of color on this whole drama. While I don’t agree with how defensive she is of Alison Roman, I appreciate the way she refuses to act as if she doesn’t exist in the world that she’s critiquing and I love that she recognizes the complexity in herself as a woman of color.

I’ve become pretty comfortable in my understanding that everyone white in our country is racist. I say racist in the fullest, most comprehensive definition of the word. Some are hateful in their racism. And some are actively trying to fight it even as it exists in themselves. As Ijeoma Oluo explains so succinctly and precisely in her book, So You Want to Talk About Race, racism is “a prejudice against someone based on race, when those prejudices are reinforced by systems of power.” And then she goes on to say, “Systematic racism is a machine that runs whether we pull the levers or not, and by just letting it be, we are responsible for what it produces. We have to actually dismantle the machine if we want to make change.” It’s in the water. And we are all impacted by it, no matter what part of the machine we’re in. Me included. As a Taiwanese American who grew up in Houston, Texas, I wasn’t magically immune to the anti-blackness that was/is prevalent in the Asian American community. Whether it was comments made by my parents, my relatives, my friends, or comments from acquaintances/strangers, it was pretty consistent. You don’t bake in that environment for all your formative years without it damaging a part of you. It’s something I still find myself fighting to unroot and discard from my psychology and my bias despite spending my non-profit career trying to address racial disparities in education and employment. I might spend the rest of my life working on it. We can’t keep pretending it’s an occasional affliction or it’s a disease that only Trump supporters suffer from. I suspect the people who are *shocked* at Alison Roman’s racist comments are also people who believe there are good whites and bad whites. #notallwhites?

Lots of folks have written reflections on cancel culture so I don’t feel the need to rehash it all here. Cancel culture exists for a reason. And it also has its various pitfalls. On one of my favorite podcasts, Still Processing, Jenna Wortham and Wesley Morris do an excellent job of examining the limits of cancel culture in their episode about Michael Jackson (content warning: child sexual abuse). One of their most compelling arguments against cancel culture is that while it attempts to hold an individual accountable, it can also be harmful because it allows people to look away. It allows us to skip the hard work of scrutinizing our broken systems beyond a single individual and it allows us to give ourselves a pass and not search ourselves for the ways in which we are complicit. We can’t look away. We have to interrogate what we consume and why. It’s the only way things will change.

I want to attempt to do some of that hard work here. Beyond organized boycotts, I do subscribe to the idea that there’s value in the individual choices I make to abstain from something. Not just in service of a desired economic, political or societal outcome, but because of the impact it can have on me, as an individual. So let me push past my annoyance that I even have to do this when I’ve already done two other phases of emotional labor and get to work.

A question I’ve been asking myself this week is: Did I somehow make peace with Alison Roman’s cultural appropriation for profit? And if so, why? The answer is, yeah, I think I did. And here are my thoughts on why.

I like Alison Roman’s recipes. I have both of her cookbooks and I only have three cookbooks in my kitchen so that’s something. It’s pretty rare for me to crack open a cookbook when I’m in the kitchen. I mostly just google for specific recipes I’m craving or I’ll look up what temperature is ideal for roasting cauliflower. Almost all the dinners I cook for my family consist of rice/noodles, a meat, and a vegetable and I don’t use recipes for those anymore. Each week I do like to have one “more complicated” dinner recipe and that’s when I’ll sometimes open a cookbook or scroll Instagram. I spend an unreasonable amount of time reading recipe comments (often contradicting) about modifications or adjustments they made and that’s after wading past all the comments about how excited people are to make the posted recipe-- it’s all very confusing and time consuming.

For someone who was not taught how to cook and who didn’t spend much time in a kitchen until maybe 3 years ago, I appreciated Alison Roman’s insistence that she had figured out the “best way” to make classic dishes (usually dishes I did not grow up eating, like Shrimp Louie or Shallot Pasta), the way she suggested using spices I’ve never cooked or eaten before (Aleppo pepper), and her encouragement to use new techniques that I was unfamiliar with (slow roasting tomatoes in the oven for six hours). It was kind of like finding a cooking lifehack.

While I found her IG persona mostly grating and self-congratulatory, I was charmed by her vision in her first cookbook for lowering the barrier to entry for making a really great meal that you can be proud of and her push in her second cookbook to host dinner parties that bring your friends together in a memorable way. For a generation that has relished mostly eating out all the time and then ordering in all the time, following an Alison Roman recipe could sometimes feel like permission to try shit out in the kitchen without the pressure to be a master at it. It was a good feeling when the recipes turned out well and it was fun to talk about which recipes I’d tried with other folks who were also working their way through her recipes.

Okay, and this part might sound ridiculous but I sort of thought that Alison Roman was someone who could maybe teach me how to make white food. Haha. You know what I’m talking about? Like the food that might be on a menu at a restaurant tagged as “American (New)” on Yelp. I mean yes, she has a recipe for “Kimchi-Braised Pork with Sesame and Egg Yolk” in Nothing Fancy but that kind of bastardized Asian dish has been popping up on white restaurant menus pretty consistently for some time now. But a question I’m now asking myself is why I wanted to make white food in the first place? Did I subconsciously think it was fancier and would make for a more interesting menu when hosting dinner parties?

In her introduction to that Kimchi-Braised Pork recipe she says, “I am calling this a braise, but it is really a stew (an homage to the Korean Jigae) in which meat is braised--but isn’t that most stews?” How do you react when you read that sentence? I think she avoids triggering my usual alarm bells because she doesn’t attempt to be an expert in Korean cuisine. She feints left by throwing in the homage line. She’s not aiming for authenticity in her recipe. It might actually be worse if she gave a mini lecture on Korean cuisine. I don’t know. When I read that line in the cookbook, I don’t find myself immediately questioning the proper origins of the recipe. I don’t have the same knee jerk reaction as when a white chef publishes a whole cookbook of recipes from just one specific region of the world and presumes to be the expert or the ultimate curator.

And maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I need to work harder to stay in the habit of questioning recipe creation and curation. Kind of like the way I’ve learned to question books like Jeanine Cummins’s American Dirt. Fifteen years ago I wouldn’t have thought twice about white authors writing the stories of people of color. Wasn’t that the whole of literature? Or so I thought. What a gift it’s been to pivot my reading to mostly authors of color! What would happen if I demanded more from the food media I was consuming?

It gets a bit more complicated for me though. Alison Roman has a Chinese-inspired recipe called “Soy-Braised Brisket with Caramelized Honey and Garlic” that I really like. In her introduction to it she writes, “... the tangy, spiced braised beef noodles available at a few of my favorite Chinese restaurants around New York, which I’ll order every time. While not a replication, this brisket is my interpretation: salty from soy sauce, sour from vinegar, lightly spiced from a few pantry all-stars.”

I don’t even know where to start with this one. I am personally so confused by Chinese food. What is Chinese food? What is Taiwanese food? What is Americanized Chinese food? Is that still Chinese food? What was the food my mom cooked at home throughout my childhood? It took me awhile to allow myself to just fully enjoy Americanized Chinese food without feeling hung up about it. A few years ago my mom made a new dish that I loved and I naively asked her whether it was a recipe she grew up with. I think I was secretly hoping it was a family recipe that she learned from her mom so I could check that immigrant kid fantasy off my list.

She laughed and said, “Do you know where I learned it from? I learned it on YouTube!”

I mean, this is the thing with the Asian Diaspora. Things are pretty disjointed for me. I know some Asian Americans are super locked in and schooled on their origins, heritage, and culture but I honestly don’t know much. I don’t know what region or city in Taiwan my favorite kind of Taiwanese Beef Noodle Soup is from. I think I’ve learned to make a version of it that I like better than anything I’ve ever eaten in a restaurant or in someone’s home. I don’t say that to brag, I just say that to point out how confusing it is to try to connect that Taiwanese dish with my heritage when it’s something I learned how to make in my thirties using a recipe I found on a stranger’s website. I feel like I’m trying to connect with a culture I didn’t really grow up in myself. I’m chasing phantoms.

You know what, I feel like some white lady in the Midwest on the Instant Pot Community Facebook group might legitimately be the world expert on the best way to make General Tso’s Chicken in a pressure cooker at home. After I made the Butter Chicken recipe from Two Sleevers, I looked up who authored the recipe and was so relieved to see that Dr. Urvashi (affectionately nicknamed The Butter Chicken Lady) was Indian. I loved that Butter Chicken recipe. I was super excited to try cooking more Indian food and I was happy that I could do it with a clear conscience. Haha, it’s all so convoluted, I know.

I think maybe I feel reluctant to hold others accountable for being more respectful of food origins because my understanding of my own cultural heritage (as it relates to food, but also in many other ways) feels spotty and incomplete. I find myself feeling unsure of what I am defending. But ultimately I think this has been a flimsy excuse. It’s not so hard to google a bit more to find a chef that’s sharing a recipe from their particular culture. I think I need to confront the hidden grief I feel about being disconnected from my culture.

In The Melancholy of Race: Psychoanalysis, Assimilation, and Hidden Grief, Anne Anlin Cheng puts it this way,

“If the move from grief to grievance, for example, aims to provide previously denied agency, then it stands as a double-edged solution, since to play the plaintiff is to cultivate, for many critics, a cult of victimization. So the gesture of granting agency through grievance confers agency on the one hand and rescinds it on the other. As a result, for many concerned with improving the conditions of marginalized peoples, the focus on psychical injury and its griefs is strategically harmful and to be studiously avoided. But this also means that we are so worried about depriving disenfranchised people of their agency that we risk depriving them of the time and space to grieve. A final problem is that since justice based on grievance and compensation tends to rely on the logic of commensurability and quantifiability, it is ill-equipped to confront that which is incommensurable and unquantifiable. In short, we as a society are at ease with the discourse of grievance but terribly ill at ease in the face of grief.”

So yeah, I guess the part I haven’t said is, when I read those comments made by Alison Roman in that interview, it hurt me. And when she deflected and didn’t take the initial pushback seriously, that hurt too. It was such a familiar feeling. I know that feeling because I’ve been there before. I’ve had my feelings brushed off with a laugh or a weird, unsatisfactory explanation. I’ve been told that someone was just punching up and didn’t think about it in the context I was. I’ve experienced that basic othering so many times in my life.

Okay so the theory here is that if I do a better job of facing the first and second phase of emotional labor head on… if I can somehow process the pain and grief of living in a racist society, then being a thoughtful consumer will feel less like a sacrifice. It’ll be easier for me to stand by choices I’ve made because I’ll know I’ve made them with integrity and in a way that is true to myself. And I can get to a place where that doesn’t feel like a loss of freedom but rather a true liberation. Man, I want that.

I also want to get in the habit of asking myself whether my desires, the same desires I am so reluctant to give up, are not actually just byproducts themselves of suffering in this machine for so long. Like, do I really believe it’s coincidental that I bought into Alison Roman’s brand and that I also do a good amount of my shopping at Madewell? And then they happened to do a collab together?

I need take a magnifying glass to the way I’ve been subconsciously trained to prize dominant white culture. It is so uncomfortable for me to even type that out because it feels like I’m admitting that I like white culture. Like I’m somehow admitting to an inferiority complex. I’m not saying I wish I were white. I definitely don’t wish that. But I am guilty of believing that my taste, my style, and my preferences are somehow invincible to the whiteness of million dollar marketing campaigns in this country. I like to pretend that my brain is somehow impervious to the terrifying industry of engineered social media algorithms and psychological branding strategies. And that’s bullshit. I don’t think anyone really wants to be white these days. Even white people themselves seem uncomfortable. But a white person enjoying wonderful things created by people of color? We eat that shit up. Why do we do that?

We have to spend time recognizing, no matter the discomfort, why our pleasures align so easily with the dominant culture. My hope is that when I start interrogating the way my tastes align with whiteness I’ll begin to cherish the ability I have to move into a place of misalignment. Maybe it won’t be so difficult to give up things I’ve taken pleasure in, because I’ll find pleasure in the process of detaching. Maybe it’ll eventually stop feeling like I’m abstaining and it’ll feel more like I’m just making powerful choices.

I think the shallow analysis of white supremacy and consumption in this country instructs a person of color to believe that liberation means having the freedom to consume as we please, disregarding the impact of our choices. You know, a chance to live the way many white people live. But I think a more thoughtful analysis instructs us to believe that our choices have consequences in terms of whether it supports or dismantles the machine of racism -- both in ourselves and in society.

Instead of the performative handwringing of trying to decide whether or not we buy another Starbucks coffee, hit next when MJ starts playing on a Spotify playlist, or keep cooking that Alison Roman brisket, my friend Milan has taught me over the years that it’s more important to be attentive to what we are desiring and why we’re making the choices that we make. Yeah that will often mean boycotting things or making different choices, no doubt. The difference is that it won’t be from an exhausting place of trying to achieve blameless optics. It’ll be from a genuine realignment. There’s freedom in that.

And yes, I see it too. That our pleasure and the way we experience culture is so closely tied to consumption is fodder for a whole other damn essay. Ugh.

#alison roman #chrissy teigan #marie kondo #cancel culture #cultural appropriation #food media #asian diaspora

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sophygurl · 7 years ago

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10,000 Worlds; 10,000 Feminisms: What Even IS Feminist Science Fiction Anyway? - Wiscon 41 panel write-up

These tend to be long and only of interest to specific segments of folk so click the clicky to read.

Disclaimers:

I hand write these notes and am prone to missing things, skipping things, writing things down wrong, misreading my own handwriting, and making other mistakes. So this is by no means a full transcript.

Corrections, additions, and clarifications are most welcome. I’ve done my best to get people’s pronouns and other identifiers correct, but please do let me know if I’ve messed any up. Corrections and such can be made publicly or privately on any of the sites I’m sharing these write-ups on(tumblr and dreamwidth for full writings, facebook and twitter for links), and I will correct ASAP.

My policy is to identify panelists by the names written in the programming book since that’s what they’ve chosen to be publicly known as. If you’re one of the panelists and would prefer something else - let me know and I’ll change it right away.

For audience comments, I will only say general “audience member” kind of identifier unless the individual requests to be named.

Any personal notes or comments I make will be added in like this [I disagree because blah] - showing this was not part of the panel vs. something like “and then I spoke up and said blah” to show I actually added to the panel at the time.

10,000 Worlds; 10,000 Feminisms: What Even IS Feminist Science Fiction Anyway?

Moderator: Julie C. Day. Panelists: Jackie Gross (ladyjax), Lauren Lacey, (Kini Ibura Salaam was listed, but unable to make the panel due to travel issues)

#10000Worlds - lots of livetweets if you want to see more, also lists of recs including stuff I’m sure I missed

Julie introduced herself, saying this was her first WisCon, she is a writer, and “I am weird.”

Lauren introduced herself and talked about teaching at Edgewood college - teaches contemporary speculative fiction and directs the women and gender studies program. She recently taught a class on contemp. global feminisms.

Jackie introduced herself as a writer of fanfic (ladyjax on AO3), and also teaches at UC Berkley. Used to work for a women’s bookstore. Motherlands was the first feminist book she read at age 13. She said she started out as a feminist, and then a black feminist, and then a lesbian black feminist.

Julie started off the questions about SF as feminism being a broad category, so make it personal, and asked the panelists to list off a couple of best/worst works of feminist SF.

Lauren said a not-fave of hers is Sheri Tepper’s work, specifically Beauty. Revised fairy tales are ways that SFF writers were re-appropriating fairy tales. As feminists, we should be asking ourselves what do we keep - not just in our fiction but in general (example: the institution of marriage - what’s good about it, what it isn’t, etc.).

Lauren listed Angela Carter’s work as an example of her favorite feminist SF.

In regards to Tepper’s work, Lauren said that instead of re-working fairy tales, Tepper was just doing the same things. She also talked about dystopian narratives as being about how everything sucks, and thinks the point of feminist SF should be about giving hope.

Jackie brought up Daughters of a Coral Dawn by Katherine Forrest, which she hates with the fire of a thousand suns. It was hyped up, but she thought it was bad, although she likes Forrest’s other works.

Julie talked about feminist fiction as a reflection of how things are vs. pathways forward to something better - not necessarily perfect but better as opposed to the dystopian/utopian paradigm.

Jackie discussed the idea of entry points where you find yourself in a narrative. She references Suzy McKee Charnas’ Holdfast Chronicles, which brings you from the past to the present to the future, and Shelly Singer’s The Demeter Flower - “we seem to go to the woods a lot!” It’s like something goes wrong, women pack it up and head for the woods. There are lots of similar stories, you read them to see how this story does this kind of narrative differently. Charnas has others in this genre, also Motherlands.

Jackie laments that dystopias now are for the sake of the dystopia vs. being commentary on where we’re going wrong and how to change that. [I disagree but get where she’s coming from]

Jackie tells us that the director of Moonlight, Barry Jenkins, shot a film series with the idea of slow dystopia called Futurestates.

Julie asked the panelists about the function of YA dystopias. The teen state is about identity and rebellion, coming of age and opposition to authority.

Jackie posited that there is a difference between a dystopia and a distaster.

Lauren said a story doesn’t have to be just a dystopia or utopia, it can combine elements of both. She mentioned Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood and Octavia Butler’s Parable series as dystopias that represent the hope of resistance/rebellion.

She also brought up the New Wave 70′s stories where there was this narrative of women just entering SF (when actually we’ve always been here). At this time, there were a lot of feminist utopias - all female societies where men show up. Herland by Charlotte Perkins Gillman is an earlier example of this type of feminist utopia.

Lauren talked some more about the timelines of these kinds of stories - the 90′s had an explosion of the more dystopian type, but they always existed as well. The dominate culture latched on to this kind of prepatory dystopia around that time.

Jackie said that she feels differently about Handmaid’s Tale now than in the 80′s when it came out. “All of this has happened to My people already.” Can/should the show give us stories of the people who were wiped out instead of just saying “they’ve killed all of these people” as part of the narrative. For example, in a conversation with a friend, they were wondering - how would the hood react when this started - because the hood is armed up.

She also talked about Womanseed by Sunlight, which has this idea of different people and groups of people who left society at different points eventually finding one another and joining up. Another example is Steve Barnes’ series that begins with the book Streetlethal about 2 different extremes of people working together.

Julie brought up Jane Eyre and Wide Sargasso Sea as examples where the narrative makes us relate to the main character so much that we’re pulled in to their reality. The real victim is the mad woman in the attic, but we don’t see that at first because of the point of view character.

Lauren said that a good writer will flag those silences so that we see who isn’t being represented by the main narrative. James Tiptree does this well. Literary theory asks the question - who can speak, and how can they speak.

Julie talked about feminist SF as being intersectional. An example is Ursula Le Guin’s Left Hand of Darkness and how reading this, she was exposed to ideas of gender identity much sooner than she would have otherwise. SFF leaves room for more expansion of ideas - gives permission for more and lets you experience things and transforms you in different ways.

Jackie emphasized getting away from the mainstream - especially look for gay and lesbian publishers. She mentions Return to Isis by Jean Stewart - things go bad, a new society develops, but there is war with others. Also Swords of the Rainbow, and Gilda Stories. Basically, seek out things that won’t get published by mainstream publishers.

Another example she gave was Space Traders by Derrick Bell, which asks the question - what happens when aliens show up and say they’ll solve all your problems if you give us all of your black people. It’s told as a fable that’s already happened.

She talked about how early copies of Octavia Butler’s Dawn featured a white woman, so it took awhile when reading the book to realize the main character was black. There was an another example like this that I missed the title and author of, but when the publisher was asked why they did this with the cover, the response was that 1) black people don’t read scifi [UGH] and 2) white people won’t read a book if there’s a black person on the cover [DOUBLE UGH].

Lauren brought up the fact that Indigenous fiction is sold as “Native American” fiction even if it should be put in other genres. She agrees about looking outside the mainstream. The mainstream is what publishes think sells, so we have to seek this other stuff out to find it, and also to send the message of what we want to see more of.

Julie talked more about gay and lesbian publishers still being very necessary.

Jackie added that Barnes and Noble might sell a book by one of these publishers, but it’s the only copy they have, and if it’s a book in a series they won’t have the other books, plus it will be shoved into the LGBT section in the corner. On the other hand, when Jackie was hand-selling books in a feminist bookstore, it meant being able to say “this is book #5 - do you want me to get 1-4 for you?”

Amazon’s name was taken from a woman’s bookstore - it’s important to remember our history. Mama Bear’s was the last woman’s bookstore in California.

Lauren brought up that on Amazon, it can be harder to find certain things because people can bid to be at the top of search lists. Amazon and Google are rigged - making smaller publishers and self-published books harder to find.

An audience member shouted out - “Library catalogs are not rigged!”

Julie stated that there are many narratives to tell and asked the panelists if things have changed?

Lauren said it’s dangerous to historicize the present, but there are ways in which the dominant popular culture has embraced SFF and it’s interesting to look at the ways that has contained the genre.

She added that we should check out WisCon’s Guests of Honor and Tiptree noms for examples of all of the great stuff out there right now. She said that 10 years ago when she was studying SF, people were surprised that it was a thing you could do - but now people are getting it more.

Jackie said she was fortunate to have studied the golden age of SF. She added that she was a Tiptree judge a few years ago - it’s not all necessarily feminist, but there’s a lot that is. She recommended All That Outer Space Allows by Ian Sales. In this story, women write SF but it’s seen as sort of housewife stuff. This ends up meaning that only women can see spaceships when they come.

Jackie also said that reading everything for the Tiptree judging showed her that while not everything she had to read was great - yes, there are indeed 10,000 narratives out there.

Jackie and Lauren discussed how people are looking for more Hunger Games-like stories, but that doesn’t work for everyone. Authors can’t keep telling the same thing over and over.

Julie discussed how publishers, editors, etc. may not connect to certain narratives, but that has more to say about them and their own biases than about the stories not getting published.

An audience member asked if there was a word for created societies that are neither dystopian nor utopian. Julie offered heterotopia. An example is Le Guin’s Dispossessed.

Another audience member said they are looking for publishers of contemporary feminist SF - not feminist fantasy and especially not romantic fantasy.

Jackie suggested Aqueduct Press, but also said not to discount the romantics. For example, Romantic Times reviews a lot of SF. Romance can be a gateway genre to SF.

An audience member brought up Woman on the Edge of Time by Marge Piercy as having a balance of dystopia and utopia, where the utopian society is based on reproductive technologies. (Either this audience member or Lauren on the panel - my notes aren’t clear which) stated that their students love that, as well as Octavia Butler’s work.

Another audience rec is Rachel Pollack’s Unquenchable Fire. Jackie seconds this rec and added that it’s a real mind bender.

Jackie said that utopias can get so boring, whereas many dystopias are like - well that’s kinda how life is.

An audience member said that as a male, he enjoyed the wave of feminist utopias because he found they were the only ones he actually wanted to live in - not like the male-written ones he’d previously read.

Jackie mentions The Wanderground by Sally Miller Gearheart as another in this genre.

An audience member asked Lauren about finding feminist SF on a global level. Lauren said it’s out there but in the US, we don’t tend to like reading stuff that comes from elsewhere, so it’s harder to find.

Jackie said that everything nominated for Tiptree is easily findable on their website. Also manga is get-able.

Lauren talked about how a lot of work from writers in India gets described as fantasy but there are genre issues there due to people writing about Hindu traditions and getting labeled “fantasy.”

Jackie mentioned the discussions that happened recently on twitter in regards to Justine Larbalestier and Magical Realism genre issues - post-modern female authors just tend to get labeled that way and it can be problematic.

An audience member brought up Starhawk’s The Fifth Sacred Thing. Jackie talked about it as coming from the SFF and woman’s spirituality movements, and added that San Fransisco SFF slipstream fic is a whole thing.

At this point of the panel a ton of recommendations got tossed out, but I’d stopped taking notes because I had to hurry off to the green room for my own panel in the next time slot. Do check out the twitter hashtag as the livetweeters were pretty diligent about getting those listed.

#10000worlds #wiscon #wiscon 41 #wiscon41 #wc41 #10000 worlds #10000 feminisms #wiscon panel write-ups #feminist science fiction

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piratefalls · 8 years ago

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posting because my friend @ampersandy doesn’t have facebook anymore.

this is what i took from my experience at my local women’s march.

When I debated going back to college – a luxury I am lucky to have, especially with the knowledge that I will not be accruing new debt – I struggled with where I wanted my education to go. I had no idea what area of study I wanted to fall in, having too many interests that rarely intersect to decide on just one department. I applied anyway, knowing that at least being accepted gave me more options than I had as someone on the outside looking in. Most of the classes I was interested in were full by the time I was allowed to register, and one of the only classes left that I had any interest in was a Gender and Women’s Studies course titled: “Queer Lives, Queer Politics.”

After yesterday, I don’t believe that this was in any way a coincidence.

All semester long I learned about power structures, both social and legislative, that put certain groups of people at a disadvantage the further they are from that power source. That power source, generally speaking, is a white, able-bodied, straight, cisgender male. Are you a person of color? Take a step back. Are you employed? If you are, stay put. If not, take a step back. Are you poor? Take another step back. Are you disabled? How’s your access to healthcare? Higher education? Take a step back for every one of these things you do not have at your fingertips. That is your relationship to power and the people who have the most influence. I want to make this post, and my experience at yesterday’s Women’s March on Champaign-Urbana, about those power structures.

Yesterday, I stood in a muddy park on an unseasonably warm, beautiful January afternoon, surrounded by women of color, of different ability, of different socioeconomic status, of varying levels of education, women who are transgender, and I listened. I was given a reminder that I desperately needed.

This is about more than just fair wages, but I want to break something down here really quick. I know everyone gets tired of hearing the phrase: “for every dollar that a man makes, a woman makes $0.79.” This is both true and misleading. For every dollar that a man makes, a woman does make less. The year after President Obama signed the Lily Ledbetter Fair Pay Restoration Act (2010), the statistics broke down as follows:

White men: 100 Black men: 74.5 Hispanic men: 65.9 White women: 80.5 Black women: 69.6 Hispanic women: 59.8

Wage discretion is real, but it is more real for people of color than it is for me.

This is about more than just sexual assault and rape. Now, if you know me at all, you know that violence against women is an issue I hold close to my heart, for reasons that don’t need to be rehashed here. But when we think about sexual assault and rape, what is the kind of person who comes to mind when you think of a victim? If you pay attention to the media at all, you probably imagine a white woman in her 20s. What they don’t tell you is that while 80% of all victims are white, minorities are somewhat more likely to be attacked. This breaks down as follows:

All: 17.6% (approx. 1 in 5) White: 17.7% Black: 18.8% Asian/Pacific Islander: 6.8% American Indian/Alaskan: 34.1% Mixed Race: 24.4%

And that doesn’t even include rape and sexual assault committed against men. Yes, women can be rapists too. According to a 2002 NCVS report, one in every eight rape victims were male. When we have a conversation about sexual assault and what needs to be done to end rape culture, we must include ALL victims, not just women. This also does not include rape and sexual assault committed against members of the trans community, which most studies reveal a whopping 50% will experience sexual violence at some point in their lifetime.

This is about more than reproductive rights. This is about access to life-saving healthcare. Viagra and vasectomies are covered by insurance plans, and no one bats an eye. When women want access to birth control, suddenly everyone is in a tizzy. You see what I’m getting at here? Dudes want to prevent pregnancy and that’s fine, but when we want to take control of our ability to get pregnant, suddenly we’re making irrational choices and need the government to intervene. Never mind the fact that the pill is not prescribed SOLELY to prevent pregnancy, but is also used in treatments for endometriosis, PCOS, and adult acne.

Also, please do actual research on Planned Parenthood, because they really are an incredible organization that provides sex education, whose goal is to reduce teen pregnancy through education, and provide women – a good portion of whom are low income and cannot afford hospital visits – with quality preventative healthcare like pap smears, mammograms, cancer screenings, and STD testing. If you can’t do it right now, that’s fine. In the meantime, let me give you a short primer: taxpayer money does not pay for abortions because Title X exists, abortions are 3% of their total services, and someone getting an abortion is none of your damn business anyway.

This is about more than just an Electoral College-elected leader we feel does not represent us. Or, at least, represents some of us. “How did this happen?” we kept asking ourselves on November 9. “Aren’t we better than this?” I thought we were, too. But, again, that’s my privilege speaking.

However – and this is something I find incredibly interesting – the exit polls of this most recent election tell a very interesting story. Most of the people I saw on Facebook after the election who were angry, or saddened, or just lamenting the fact that we’d elected probably the least qualified individual in recent history to our highest government position, were predominantly white. You want to know who put him in office? Predominantly white people. Exit polls in CNN show that 62% of white men and 52% of white women voted for Trump, with only 7% and 5% voting for neither candidate or not voting at all, respectively. Everyone else – black men and women, Latino men and Latina women, and other minority groups – overwhelmingly voted Clinton or didn’t vote for either/vote at all. I’m still trying to parse how I feel about this one, honestly, but I’m sure I’ll let you guys know when I figure it out.

I wanted to believe that we were better than a person who sought to divide us under the guise of making this country great again. America is, and can be, great, despite the fact that its history has not always been great. I know, I know, “We weren’t part of slavery, so why do I still have to defend myself against it? I didn’t kill all those Native Americans when Columbus sailed the ocean blue!”

First of all, DUH. You were born in 1993. This is hardly something I can put solely on your shoulders. BUT - and this is the part we struggle with - these terrible things ARE part of this country’s history, and we DO have to own that. Do we have to be proud of it? No. In fact, I’d encourage you to not be proud of it. However, as a historical moment, are we not supposed to learn from it? Are we not meant to arm ourselves with information so that we do not repeat what’s been done? That is why these conversations still take place: because we keep forgetting.

What this is about is togetherness. This is about recognizing where your place is in this world and using it in whatever way you can to lift up those who are not as fortunate as you. This is about the importance of mobilization. It is about feminism that is not limited to just white women, but is inclusive of all people regardless of gender expression, sexual orientation, race, creed, socioeconomic status, and physical ability. This is about the importance of knowing when to speak and when to sit down and listen; the importance of me, as a white woman, knowing my place at a table that is not designed to make me feel comfortable, or congratulate me for finally catching up with everyone else, but rather teach me how I can be better even if it involves hearing hard truths. My job, as a white woman, is to listen, to get educated, and to amplify the voices of women and men throughout history that our textbooks have silenced for far too long.

This is about learning the meaning of true ally-ship, that not all things are about you, but are about others and how you can do something that benefits them. Being an ally is hard work, and it’s supposed to be. We must not let our sisters be swept aside because of their skin, or their queerness, or their religion or ability or the life she chooses to lead. We must embrace them, encourage them, raise their voices when they are not being heard. True equality cannot be achieved until we are ALL equal players on the same field, in all facets of life, status, and government. We do not yet have these things.

Being brave is not about convenience. Being brave means stepping up to the plate even when it’s hard, when there’s nothing in it for you, when it scares you. Being brave is a lot of things, but it has never been, nor will it ever be, easy. I will be the first to admit that I have not always been brave. But I am going to try. I’m going to get more involved. I’m going to be a voice, a mouthpiece for other women who need to be heard much more than I do.

Whether you believe it or not, as a white individual, you ARE privileged. Having the luxury of not noticing that privilege is something women of color, trans women, poor women, and disabled women do not have.

At the end of all of this, all I’m asking is that you think about where you stand in this world, and the power you hold simply by existing. Have you ever gone to sleep wondering where your next meal will come from? Have you ever gone to sleep cold because you couldn’t pay your bills? Have you ever missed out on important moments in your kid’s lives because you had to work to make sure they were fed? Have you ever been followed around in a shopping mall because someone decided that YOU were the sketchy person they needed to police that day? If you haven’t experienced these things, you might be privileged.

The question is: what will you do with it?

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citizentruth-blog · 6 years ago

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Time to #WalkAway: The Exodus of Blacks and Free Thinkers from the Democrat Party - PEER NEWS

New Post has been published on https://citizentruth.org/time-to-walkaway-the-exodus-of-blacks-and-free-thinkers-from-the-democrat-party/

Time to #WalkAway: The Exodus of Blacks and Free Thinkers from the Democrat Party

African Americans and free thinkers are finally leaving the left in droves.

Candace Owens, director of Turning Point USA, has been the victim of vicious liberal attacks because she is a black woman who supports President Trump.

On a recent Fox News interview, she said, “I think the black vote is going to become the most relevant by 2020” and “we’re already seeing a major shift,” referring to the exodus of African Americans from the Democrat Party. The conversation is changing. The black voters of America are no longer remaining stuck in that victim mentality courtesy of the Democrats and are opening up to the choice they have between a party that holds them back and a party that was initiated to put a stop to slavery.

Digital media has allowed for all of this to happen. Social media has given everyday people and insightful influencers alike a voice. We no longer have to stay trapped in the fake reality that CNN and others portray to us. Today, we are hearing different voices and convincing ideas from all kinds of people. And because of this, people like Owens and Kanye West are speaking out about how the Democrats have betrayed them and left them behind in their pursuit of illegal immigration, uninspiring anti-Trumpism, and open borders.

“There is going to be a major black exit from the Democrat Party, and they are going to have to actually compete for their votes in 2020,” Owens stated.

youtube

Fox News’ Laura Ingraham had Brandon Straka on her show recently. Straka is the founder of the #WalkAway Campaign freeing disgusted Democrats to leave their party and join the winning side. He had a red pill experience in 2017 after the Donald was elected which was after he cried when Hillary Clinton lost two Novembers ago. And he decided to walk away from the Democrats because of their nasty rhetoric, incessant intolerance, name-calling and hypocritical judgment. Now, he’s not only worried about all that, but he also now fears outright violence from his former party.

“Their party has no future. It’s over,” Straka said. “People are leaving the left by tens of thousands.” He receives thousands of authentic testimonials from former Democrats regarding how the left has become intolerable to them. They don’t recognize their party anymore. What do they stand for? They hate Trump and love illegal immigrants. Anything else? Please email me or comment below and let me know!

“I want gay people, I want all people, but particularly minorities, in America to note that you have a choice. You don’t have to vote Democrat just because you’re a gay person. You don’t have to vote Democrat because you’re a black person. If you’re a minority, you have a choice, and that’s what this campaign’s about,” Straka finished.

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Rob Smith is a black, gay former Democrat. He is also an author who has become one of the many strong voices online decrying what the left has become. He calls this the “I Don’t Have to be a Democrat Just Because I’m Black Movement,” which embraces traditional values as Democrats move farther left, defending illegal aliens while taking African Americans for granted and leaving them stranded in poverty and perpetual victimhood.

“There is a movement right now of black people standing up because we are always expected to be Democrats,” Smith said. “And there is a movement right now of younger black conservatives, which I am becoming a part of, that is saying, ‘No, you don’t define who we are, you don’t define how we think; you don’t get to control and own our voices.’” As I mentioned in an article in late April, free thinking is on the rise, and many African Americans are getting red pilled with Trump in the White House and Democrats becoming the party of MS-13 and illegal aliens.

Democrats are not looking to better America in any way. As they proved by their lack of patriotism over July 4th, they despise our country and would welcome a second civil war as they did the first one. Instead of devising a winning strategy and an optimistic message to counter Trump’s rising America First voting bloc, they are attempting to legalize a swath of illegal immigrants to ensure another reliable group of Democrat voters for decades to come, just like they did with African Americans in the second half of the 20th century.

The summer of 2018 has been inspirational in many ways. In the face of liberals melting down over every Trump win and Supreme Court nominee, we have also witnessed a rise of black influencers coming out of their closet of shame in support of Donald Trump. The Democrats’ stranglehold of blacks voting unanimously for their party of hate is finally coming to an end.

This has been a long time coming.

It all started in the spring with Kanye’s internet-breaking tweet stating that he loved the way Candace Owens thinks. In another tweet on April 25th, West said, “You don’t have to agree with Trump, but the mob can’t make me not love him. We are both dragon energy. He is my brother. I love everyone. I don’t agree with everything anyone does. That’s what makes us individuals. And we have the right to independent thought.” The color of your skin does not mean you have to vote for one party or another. We need to be a country of individuals and free thinkers. If we all do what’s best for ourselves and our families, we will all be better off for it. Black people are not owned by the Democrats. They are no longer slaves to their lies.

The Democrats keep pushing 'Resist" so that America will no longer "Exist" Don't Wait until Later; Do It Now#WalkAway #RunLikeHell #DitchandSwitchNow Vote Them All Out!

— Diamond and Silk�� (@DiamondandSilk) July 9, 2018

“I think there was a tripling in Trump’s approval rating when Kanye came out,” declared Ali Alexander, a 32-year-old political consultant born to an African-American mother and Arab father who saw the beginnings of this movement back in 2012 when the largest sub-demographic of blacks who voted for Romney were black men in their 20s and early 30s. According to a Pew Research exit poll, Romney achieved double-digits in the black vote against a black president. A cultural and demographic shift is underway that cannot be undone if the Democrats continue on their divisive path.

“So I knew that something bad was coming for the Democrats, and Kanye, I think, is the ball that’s bursting,” Alexander said. “It’s like, wait, when this economic pie is growing, are black people gonna have a piece of that? These demographics have been happening for decades.” To Alexander, West’s tweet was a wonderful moment that caused blacks to wonder what the welfare state does for them if they don’t plan to be on welfare. “And I think that Kanye dived on a grenade for the rest of the black community, to have them start flirting with the idea of that.”

While black unemployment is at an all-time low and jobs are available to anyone who wants to work, we are being barraged with how Trump is the new Hitler and a racist dictator who is in league with Russia. But how can Trump be a racist when he kisses black babies, and black women hug him and black men praise him for his pro-job policies? How can more and more blacks be coming around in support of Trump if he is a racist trying to keep minorities down?

Yep, #trump is a racist…. #LiberalSickness#LiberalLogic#MAGA #WalkAway #TrumpTrain pic.twitter.com/pzvLxxlhaU

— Tim Tim (@timnexis) July 9, 2018

“It has all been a lie,” said conservative black YouTuber “Uncle Hotep,” a father of two from Pennsylvania. “It’s unfortunate because a lot of us believed it blindly.” He points to the simple fact that each paycheck he gets is $100 higher than it was before the tax cut. Trump is helping not just African Americans, but all Americans. “He’s put money in my pocket.”

“I voted for Barack Obama his second term,” began conservative “Uncle Hotep,” who went on to say, “The Democrats, in my honest opinion, based on my research, I believe the Democrats have historically hated black people. And I think they still hate black people today.” It is historically accurate that Democrats defended slavery as long as possible and lamented integration of white and black society in the 1960s. They voted against not only women’s suffrage but also black citizenship. The Democrats in Congress were also mostly against the Civil Rights Act of 1964 despite the Kennedy administration’s push for it. The Republican Party was started in the mid-19th century to demolish slavery and defend individual rights for all Americans. Abraham Lincoln was the first Republican president, and he promised to free the slaves and even went to war against a slavery-loving south run by Democrats. Don’t let revisionist history fool you!

“Hotep Jesus” is a black conservative comedian and author who became an internet sensation when he went into a Starbucks and demanded a free cup of coffee, as “reparations” for slavery, since he “heard y’all was racist.” The clip is hilarious and so poignant for these politically correct times.

The African American Pastor Darrell Scott put it best during his 2016 Republican National Convention speech endorsing Trump when he said: “The truth is, the Democratic Party has failed us. America is a melting pot. We’re a country of diversity. And we stand poised to make history by standing together as Americans.” Diversity is our greatest strength not because we are all different but because we are all individuals who mostly love America and have the right to think and choose for ourselves.

As Owens recently told Fox, “I really do believe we are seeing the end of the Democratic Party as we know it.” I think there is ample evidence to prove this is surely the case.

Despite almost a month of continuous Trump is Hitler incarnate and our racist in chief coverage from the mainstream media following the separation of illegal immigrant children at the border, the president’s job approval rating has remained well above 43 percent, according to the Real Clear Politics average.

Prepare for another Trump landslide in 2020 my liberal friends.

Follow me @BobShanahanMan

FBI Jailed Black Activist 6 Months over Anti-Police Brutality Facebook Posts

#African Americans #Culture #democrats #donald trump #Free Thinkers #History #politics #Republicans #Walk Away

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bongaboi · 8 years ago

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Revons Plus Grand, Chapter 2

Revons Plus Grand

Chapter 2:

Comme D'Habitude

A pinch. Another pinch. So soft and delicate to the touch it might as well be freshly baked bread. Mmmm, bread. The desire for homemade starch was rampant in her own peace of mind that walked the line. She pinched again. And again. And again, that soft side of her that her partner was always pleasuring while they slept.

"Uh, Jose, why are you pinching yourself?" Sadako Shimohara asked Georgette Lemare as the two of them admired the Paris skyline.

"I am alive. Somehow, I am alive after waking up," Jose said.

"I'm alive too, but it's not big deal. Why are you pinching yourself? Conscious of something or something, hmmm?"

"I have to prove to myself and to you that I am not dreaming right now." One more pinch. "No, this is real! This is reality! This is Paris! The genuine article. The Paris that Perrine was talking about, the biggest city of all, the City of Lights! That's the Eiffel Tower, Sadako. We are here!"

"Calm down, calm down, Jose, we'll be all right, do you need me to rub your shoulders?" She received a headbump and was placed in a corner.

"No thank you, but thank you for asking, hmph!" But she did feel bad about it, a few seconds afterwards. "Sorry. It was the heat of the moment."

"The heat of the moment, said the cat to the rabbit," Sadako said, getting up and looking around their bed. "At this rate, I'm gonna get cat scratch fever and I'll be in trouble."

Jose turned around, horrified. "You wouldn't...!" Then she blinked. "Uh, what are you doing?"

"Check out all these clothes," Sadako said, opening the dresser to a full arsenal of women's clothes and swimwear and loungewear. And yes, even high-end underwear custom made. "Such taste!"

A hand was around Georgette's head as she laughed hesitantly. "Ahahahah, you're embarassing me."

"Such culture! Such style! This is truly...um, uh..." Sadako saw a poster across from her. "France! We are apparently in a place called France!"

"France? I don't even know where that is on a map," said Georgette. "I only know Gallia. Unless...France IS Gallia...then that means..."

"WE ARE IN A DIFFERENT DIMENSION!" they both said.

Sadako continue to leaf through the pret-a-porter sets while Georgette was deep in thought, scheming. A brand new side never seen, on debut, on showcase, in private. "This might get some getting used to," Jose said, pondering.

"Of course, take a look below and see what the locals are wearing," Sadako said.

"Oh my..." Georgette noticed that some girls were dressed like boys.

Sadako showed her an example. "In this era, in this dimension, in this timeline you can actually dress like a boy and wear long pants!"

"I've never done that before, it looks weird," Jose said, eyes rolling.

"There are dresses as well," Sadako deadpanned, showing a sundress with a red blouse and red high heels.

"More like it."

"And, apparently the outfits of actual sports clubs are in this dresser too. Like this one." Sadako tossed Jose a blue football jersey with purple accents, some writing, and some touches of red and white.

"I've never worn something like this before," said Georgette. She turned the jersey around. "Ib...ra..hi..mo..vic? 10. I don't even know what that's supposed to stand for." She turned it around. "Fly Emirates? What's that?"

"I think we are in a timeline and dimension that does not use striker units," said Sadako. "Emirates must be the name of a notable civilian passenger air fleet company."

"What? But, our familar forms, they are still working, right?"

Sadako stroked her right nipple fast and hard to the point that she moaned profusely, triggering the rabbit ears and tail. "Hyaaaaaah!" she cried.

Jose blinked. "...eh?"

A thumbs up and one eyes closed. "It still works!" Sadako grinned. Seconds later, she was bent over in a corner with a headbump. "I told you it still works but you must think I've turned into a jackass already!"

"What...jackass are you referring to, I may ask?" Jose asked, her mouth twitching, annoyed.

Sadako pointed to a painting of an old politician with an unmistakable haircut and color. A caption "This guy! Do..nald...Tr..ump! Yeah, this guy!"

Georgette was steaming. She did not know who that man was, but somehow her bad vibes suggested it was a Neuroi in disguise. "Sadako, did you just..."

"Noooo, don't kill me! I loved you then, I love you now, please forgive me!" Sadako lamented, begging for forgiveness in her blue underwear. A hand was extended. "...huh?" A blink. "Eh?"

"Let's head to the bath. We could use one," Jose said, the aura of an angel with wings and a halo on her figure. "Eheheh!"

"I am saved. There is a God...!" Sadako whispered dramatically.

"Hurry and get up already," she deadpanned.

"Ahahahahahah..." And they both went to the bath for a long soaping and unintended make-out, her mind having melted into goo. "Ohhhhh baby..."

Naoe Kanno was no longer distraught. She was in disbelief as she and Hikari Karibuchi left the test chamber, picking up the clothes of Sadako and Jose and putting them in a basket to be placed in the wash. "How?" she asked. "How? How the hell is it possible for them to disappear like that? Did they get abducted? What is going on? My head is spinning!"

"I don't know Nao," Hikari said. "I think the Countess knows exactly what happened."

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do," Flying Officer Waltrud Krupinski said, appearing in front of them. "Let's head to the dining hall, I will explain further."

Nao and Hikari's stomachs growled on cue. "Yes ma'am."

Nao and Hikari sat on one side, while Flying Officer Krupinski and Commander Rall sat on the other. Flight Lieutenant Charlotte E. Yeager. carried a couple of trays and served some plates of sandiwches, salads and utensils.

"What's this?" asked Nao.

"Sliders and Waldorf salad, as served in Liberion," Commander Rall replied, sinking her teeth in one of the bite-sized wonders.

"Mmmm, this is actually pretty good."

"You like it?" asked Shirley. "I made it myself."

"Oh! You must be that Liberion girl from the 501st, Charlotte Yeager!" Nao said. She shook her hand. "We finally meet after a while! Greetings!"

"It's nice to be here. You are Flying Officer Naoe Kanno, correct!"

"That's right! Thanks for the meal! It's yummy!" She continued to dig in.

"The Waldorf salad is actually a New York, Liberion invention. I'm from West Virginia and I decided to do my take on steak sandwiches. So I developed the slider. Seems it's a grand slam." She looked at the plate. Empty, nothing. "And there it goes. Rest in peace, lunch."

"Can you believe this, we were actually transporting condoms to the base for safekeeping. Of all things, earlier today!" Nao said, exasperated. "Sigh...when it comes to those nasty things, leave me out of it!"

"Different standards for different Witches, I believe."

"But more to the point, was that room that I just went in...did that have something to do with the disappearance of Pilot Officer Shimohara and Pilot Officer Lemare?"

"Pretty much. Mainly because, Lucchini and I designed and built the new room."

"Whoa...what does that room do?"

"The built-in magic engineered in the room allows a partnership to transport themselves to anywhere they want in the world, but in a futuristic timeframe and a different dimension."

"Wow...so where did they go?"

"I don't know the answer to that. All I did was build the room for you guys while visiting. I have no idea after that."

"I did overhear," said the Countess, "that Jose wanted to see a place in Gallia called, I think, Pa..ri..."

"Paris?" Nao exclaimed, a fang sticking. "They went to Paris!?"

"I guess that's where they went."

"In another dimension and a different timeframe," Hikari added, deep in thought.

"Ohhhhh my head is spinning from all this," Nao said, her head hurting. "Dammit! Will we ever see them again after a while?"

"Knock on wood, we're working on that as we speak," said Shirley with a thumbs up and a smile.

"Flight Lieutenant Yeager, do you know the year that the room is set to by any chance?" asked Commander Rall.

"Good question Gundala," Charlotte said, pulling out her clipboard. "According to my notes here, the room is set to have the users transported to the location in the designated dimension in the year...ah, 2017, later January to early February."

"That far?" Hikari exclaimed.

"Yep, that far," Shirley replied.

"Whoa, they have been thrown into a dimension set to the future. It definitely is not the Paris as the Gallians known it here. Is the place even called Gallia in the timeline?"

"Actually, it goes by different name, and the land mass shapes are also different," said Shirley, showing a full map of the dimension and places. This is where we are. Russian Federation, and in that dimension, the city is called SAINT Petersburg. Hikari, your country, Fuso, is called Japan. And this is Gallia. It's a place called France."

"Do you know the demonyms for people of that dimension?"

"People in Fuso are Japanese, people in Orussia are Russian, people in Gallia are French, and I'm from Liberion, and on this map, that is labeled as the United States of America, which means I would be labeled as an American. Oh yeah, and Suomus is Finland and Karlsland is Germany. Finns, Germans. And Lucchini's place, Romagna, is Italy, while Brittania is the United Kingdom. However, Lynette Bishop was born here, near where I live, a place called Canada. So she is a Canadian."

"What a nice name...Canadian."

"An unconfirmed report tells me that the current head of government in that realm in that dimension and timeline is as untalented politically as that of my own realm and my leader in particular is off to a tough start in terms of standing among certain citizens as he just began his term as head of government. I can't really confirm this, though for sure, because I, well, am, not participating in my own chamber I designed."

"You're just making this up to get a rise out of all of us," Nao said, her eyebrows twitching through her false laugh. "You LIAR!"

"Calm down, Kanno," Flying Officer Krupinski said.

"Kanno, do you want to go through seiza again?" Commander Rall said in a threatening voice.

"Ahahahahahha, never mind, sorry, Shirley!" Nao said, embarrassed by her outburst.

"Don't worry about it, kid," Shirley said with a grin.

"uwu..."

"But I also wanted to ask this," asked Hikari. "When can we expect them back? They won't be out for very long in that different dimension you speak of, right?"

"Shouldn't be too long but I don't believe I set a end time for when they are out there," Shirley replied with a shrug.

"Why didn't you set an end date again?"

"Because I got so busy and worked up that I ended up getting tired, fell asleep and Lucchini also got tired and decided to sleep with her head between my cleavage sounding like a motorboat or a housetruck, I think that's what they call it over there, don't know for sure.”

The Countess was in stitches. "I'm dying here!"

"That's a little bit too much detail for us to digest, don't you think?" asked the Commander.

"I just wanted to lay it out there." Shirley said.

"Grrrrrr!" Nao wanted none of it. "Let me have some...now!" She squeezed Shirley's voluptuous breasts, causing her to sigh lustily. "Eheh..." But no sooner had Nao found her piece of heaven that Francesca Lucchini walked. "Uh...hi?"

"Keep. Your. Hands. Off. My. Woman," she snarled.

"AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH!" cried Nao, fleeing the room while being chased by Francesca. The pecking order didn't lie. Nao could never win but it was fun while it lasted, the fresh squeeze from the heavens.

"Dear me, someone must have gone full frontal on the coffee today," Flying Officer Krupinski offered.

"Or has a certain anatomy envy," the Commander added. The two of them laughed.

"I'll head back to the kitchen to clean up," Shirley said. "Later tonight, Lucchini and I need to depart for North Africa to take care of some humanitarian work, as per Hanna's request."

"Thank you for stopping by and giving us this new room, we appreciate it."

"A pleasure, both of you. And you too, Hikari."

"Of course," she replied, nodding. She returned to her thoughts. "But still...to be in a different Paris that the Paris we know...will they both be all right over there?" She meant to find out.

"Ahhhh, nice long baths with you is like floating on a cloud that I could never fall out of," Sadako said as the two of them walked out of the bath, the scent of lovemaking replaced by natural flowery tones and purity dancing with piety. "Feels great, Jose."

"You keep fondling me so much, I'm just amazed that I am okay with this," Georgette said, looking for some bows to fix her hair. She noticed two new bows on the bed. "Hmmm, this is new. Red on the left, blue on the right? Mmmm, a nice change from the usual. Sadako, is there any underwear sets in the rack down there?"

"Here is one," she replied, holding a stylized top and panties that looked like an adapted version of the local team's uniform.

"You're already dressed!?" Jose shot back. Sadako was dressed in a white shirt, black jacket, jeans and one of the blue scarves in the study, along with brown fur boots.

"Ahahah, I dress quickly. Go ahead and put it on."

"I guess this will do. It looks like my underwear, but with a unique twist." Georgette put the top and panties on, with Sadako watching, her left hand discreetly over her crotch. It was getting a bit damp, too. "I knew it," she said, a sweatdrop on her face, her eyebrows twitching.

Sadako withdrew the hand and laughed hesitantly. Jose did see that she was touching herself while she was putting it on. "You...do keep it clean down there, I realized."

"Of course I do. You do the same. How do I expect to get a taste of you myself if it doesn't get shaved?"

"!? Well, I concede, you do have a point. Ah!" Sadako went and took out a shirt. "Here is a skirt to go with the top."

"Ah." A lambskin top. "It says...Chanel. This must be a brand." Georgette put the skirt on. "And it fits me, too! I like it." She giggled and decided to put the jersey on as well, putting on a scarf on a whim before looking at herself in the mirror. "How do I look, Sadako?"

"In your language, if I recall, that would be...c'est magnifique! Extraordinare! Magnificent and extraordinary."

"You're picking the language up easily, not bad," Jose replied with a smile. "But, this crest must be something. It says...uh..."

"There's actually a bigger sign on the wall next to the mirror."

"Oh! I didn't notice. Paris...Saint...Germain. Ici C'est Paris...Paris Est Magique. This is Paris. Paris is magical. Ah, I guess this means that this is a jersey and a scarf associated with Paris Saint-Germain. Are they an important organization?" Jose noticed Sadako reading a magazine. "What is that you're reading?"

"Information on this so-called Paris Saint-Germain," said Sadako. "It says here that they are a major sports club. They do three sports: football for men and women, a sport called handball, and a category called electronic sports, also known as e-sports, with the two games in question called FIFA 17 and League Of Legends. I have no idea what that League Of Legends is but there is a financial record here that shows that they are one of the richest sports organizations in the country and they are best known for their men's football team. Have you heard of football?"

"Football. Um, I recalled that before I was assigned to the 502nd, while working in the countryside near Barenton I noticed in the distance two plots of land that were shaped like there were going to be used for some sort of sports event. Two sets of posts, line markings, and there were two groups of 11 boys, moving a ball with their feet and trying to move the ball past this thing called an end line and score into the goal area for a goal. In my language it's called a but, pronounced bih."

"Oh."

"I also recall this. One player on either side was allowed to collect or stop the ball with his hands. Nobody else was allowed to. There was some tackling and physical play and the supporters were singing, clapping and chanting, some even saying some nasty words. Most of them were boys. I wondered what that sport was because just watching it for a few minutes was a joy because the player had actual skill in passing the ball and even doing some creative footwork and juggling with their feet. So it's called football. Naturally. What's today by the way?"

"I am looking at the clock, and it says, Sunday, January 29, 2017. We are apparently in the year 2017 and it's late winter." Georgette and Sadako broke out some coats, while Georgette took some leg warmers out of curiosity and put them on along with some white boots. "I also noticed we have two handbags on the table. One has a rabbit marking, the other a cat marking. Ah, this is actually our familiar mark. And it even has wallets with everything on it. These are stuffed."

"Cards and all, and plenty of money too," Jose added. "As well as makeup, perfumes, toiletries, chewing gum.” She took out a tube of lipstick. "I think you put it on like this." Shiny pink. She applied it on and puckered her lips. She never put on eyeliner or eyeshadow in her life but somehow she was able to do it easily.

"Putting on makeup? I never know you could actually do that!" Sadako exclaimed. "Maybe I should try it in the future." Seconds later, Sadako gave in and the two of them were putting on light makeup and looking flash like euro cash. "So it seems in this part of the world, the currency is called the euro and we use cards to make payment. Hey, and I have a passport from Japan."

"I have my own passport but I have some identification cards, and even this thing. I think the people here in this dimension call this a credit card. I think there is a way to use it." She put it away. "But I'm not sure."

"Well, I'm done here. I wonder what hotel this is," Sadako said as the two of them walked out of the room, into a hall with other doors. She noticed a sign. "Radisson...Blu. I think Radisson is the name of another brand of this dimension."

"You might be right." As they walked, they noticed a few players in warmup kits walking to the elevator in the distance before disappearing. "Oh my, are those...?"

"They must be the people from PSG!" Jose replied.

"PSG?"

"PSG = Paris Saint-Germain."

"Ohhh. Did you come up with it?"

"I think it's been established before we even got here. But for you, I'll claim it."

"For me? Oui, oui, oui! Rrrrrr!" The two of them giggled like mindless idiots madly in love as they walked to the elevator and went down to the floor. "So this is a lobby. We must have been transported to a hotel room. So we are in a hotel."

"A futuristic one at that," Georgette noted. "Let's take a look outside." The two of them walked out the door and left the Radisson Blue. "Oh. My. Goodness." A good deal of the major attractions were there, as well as the Eiffel. "This place is even better up close!" And Georgette's stomach growled. "So where should be eat?"

Sadako's eyes glowed as she scanned for a place for the two of them to have an afternoon bite. The two of them walked down and soon enough, Sadako saw a bar. "Frog XVI. Maybe there is something here. Shall we go in?"

"Could be worse...I guess so," Jose said with an embarrassed look and a hesitant laugh. "Let's go." As Sadako took Georgette's hand, the look became an assertive, knowing smile and their first-ever experience with visiting a restaurant referred to in this dimension/timeline as a sports bar would begin in earnest.

END CHAPTER 2

#fanfiction #writing #revons plus grand #Saimoe #strike witches #brave witches #sadako shimohara #georgette lemare #paris saint-germain fc #yuri

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