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innocet · 3 months ago

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there's a longpost going around about The Sam Problem (Sam Jones's notorious spotty characterization) and I didn't want to bloat it by adding a bunch more but I did want to say that even before a single novel had been published with Sam, these conversations were being had. Jonathan Blum met Kate Orman on the usenet newsgroup rec.arts.drwho, before he "slept his way into" (his words) writing for the novels. He was Posting quite a bit in the lead-up to the publication of Vampire Science and shared a lot of inside baseball as to what what going on among the writers of those early EDAs. This is going to be a lot of transcription of usenet threads from 1996 so they're going under a cut.

Shortly after Sam was first announced in DWM, Blum shared her character outline as written by Terrance Dicks:

SAMANTHA JONES - SAM for short - is about 17. Thin and wiry, she has close-cropped blonde hair. She wears the usual clothes of a teenager in the Coal Hill School of 1997, and uses the local accent and racy slang of her fellow-pupils. For all her cherished street-cred image, SAM is of middle-class origins, though she does her best to conceal it. Her father is a doctor and her mother is a social worker. Both parents chose to work in the inner-city area of Coal Hill with all its problems. Both were taken aback when Sam insisted on going to the Coal Hill comprehensive, instead of the private school they had planned for her. SAM sees herself as a natural rebel. Her main problem is the fact that her parents are so understanding, liberal and tolerant that they don't provide much to rebel against. Moreover, both are so busy with demanding jobs and various good causes that SAM, as an only child, actually gets very little of their time and attention. To survive emotionally, she has become capable, self-sufficient and independent. SAMANTHA JONES is and idealist and a crusader - everything from Ban the Bomb to Save the Whale - impeccably politically correct and a shade self-righteous. She is bossy, brave to the point of recklessness, and tends to make snap judgements and act on them. SAM always knows what's right, and what's best for everyone. When SAM first meets the DOCTOR, he is confused and amnesiac. She sees him as an engaging eccentric who needs looking after. By the end of the first adventure the DOCTOR is himself again. During their travels together SAM gradually becomes aware of who and what he is. She finds the knowledge awe-inspiring - but she would never let the DOCTOR know it, and continues to treat him with a lively disrespect. The DOCTOR sees SAM as a sort of enjoyable irritant. He finds her energy, optimism and know-it-all enthusiasm amusing, stimulating and sometimes maddening. Although the DOCTOR in his current incarnation is an exceptionally attractive young man, and SAM is on the brink of becoming a beautiful young woman, this aspect of things is kept below the surface. Despite the relative closeness of their apparent ages, the relationship stays on the level of big brother/younger sister or even father/daughter. Beneath her outward assurance SAM is still very young - to the DOCTOR, incredibly young. If SAM ever wishes the DOCTOR would notice her a little more, this is something she keeps very much to herself. But she does her best to keep him out of the clutches of any intergalactic seductresses they may encounter - purely for his own good, of course.

And immediately, something I admire so much about Blorman, is that they're willing to play with this. A lot of the misogyny in Sam's characterization comes from an annoyance at her mere existence and a conviction that there is nothing at all potentially worth exploring about her. Because the idea of her annoys the author, she must be Inherently Annoying, and is written as such rather than engaging with any of her actual character traits.

Blorman both admit (mostly Blum, as Orman's activity on rec.arts.drwho was either small check-ins or trolling/taking the piss at this point) that there isn't much there in this outline, or that at the very least some of it comes across as mean-spirited.

[BLUM] I'm sure on paper, Ace or Sarah sounded a bit cardboard as well -- it took skilled writers (and script editors) to make them something special. It helps that we all *want* to make Sam likeable... we know that a good companion is supposed to be an identification figure, not an irritant. Though if Terrance meant Sam's activism and "political correctness" to be a bit of a joke, he's in for a shock -- he's just handed her development over to two activists! :-) We both see how annoying or condescending the character could be, so we're basing her on the activists we've known -- who generally *have* had a sense of humor, and more importantly of self-awareness.

(Blum had been beefing with Dicks for a bit at this point.)

"You people are incredible, I just bet if Paul or Kate had created this outline you'd be gushing about how great it sounded and how clever it was." [BLUM] Perhaps that's because Kate or Paul wouldn't have created this outline. "And I won't mentioned the incredibly insulting condescending tone of Jon's little rant. Never forgiven Terrance for not liking the movie, have you Jon?" [BLUM] Quite the reverse, actually. Terrance told us about Sam before he went on about how much he hated the movie. We've just had to sit on the news about Sam until now -- if anything, my response in the "Terrance hated the movie" thread was colored by knowing what he had to offer in its place.

and already they're brainstorming a lot of the INCREDIBLY juicy Sam character moments that show up in Vampire Science, all strongly informed by the character outline, not in contradiction to it.

[BLUM] This is one of the big contradictions we spotted in the outlines -- along with the fact that Sam is being a "rebel" by doing precisely the sort of liberal activist work her cause-oriented parents would approve of! Our attempt at rationalizing it is that Sam's parents' activism is very small-scale and vanilla (these days), oriented only on one little neighborhood -- they're still doing good, but they've gotten settled and lost their big dreams. Sam is rebelling against the paucity of their imagination by trying to make big changes to the world. And her parents don't think they're putting their futures -- or their lives -- on the line by working in the neighborhood the way they think Sam is by going to an inferior and dangerous (ITHO) school…

Again, it was mostly Blum in the trenches on this front, and Orman says in a later addition that it was also mostly him in the trenches trying to sort out Sam's characterization, and that her concerns with writing Vampire Science lay elsewhere. That said, she does chime in with this, which I just adore the graciousness and positive thinking of:

Well, I think people can criticise the *outline*, but outlines are seldom representative of what ends up on screen, or on the page. Pointing out the potential pitfalls of the character is quite useful to the authors! Because Terrance is just briefly introducing the character, Jon and I get to really work on her, breathing life into that basic sketch and modifying its less likeable elements. What a marvellous job to be given!

Sam Jones is what led me to the opinion that there are no bad characters, only bad writers. If you are intent on a character being Bad and unlikable, you're going to write them unlikably! Because you don't like them! Writing, especially for something with established characters, gives you a tremendous opportunity to "yes, and." to be curious and find out what does interest you about a character. To look at contradictory characterizations and think "what might lead a person to these contradictions?" Blorman specifically are masters of this, and it's what makes their writing some of the most engaging of the wilderness years.

bonus, also in this thread:

(archived thread is here, if anyone wants to take a look. Fair warning that these threads are people As They Were In 1996, with all that may imply.)

#eighth doctor adventures #kate orman #jonathan blum #sam jones

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just-antithings · 1 year ago

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Re: refrainbow (creator of the Boyfriends webtoon) saying the n-word. (Note, I'll be switching between he and they pronouns for refrainbow, since he uses both, I hope it doesn't end up confusing. Also, the bold is to help with reading (at least, it helps with my ADHD, but there's also a td;lr at the bottom as well))

I don't have screenshots or links, but it's been noted that refrainbow has admitted to having said it when he was younger and still learning English (mostly from the internet). They are Indonesian and did not know the history behind the slur. I'm not sure they even knew it was a slur until getting called out for it; from what I've seen, refrainbow thought it was English slang calling someone stupid or bad, due to learning it through I think gaming, where the n-word and other slurs were often thrown around liberally.

People ofc are valid being wary around refrainbow or anyone who's used the n-word or other slurs as general insults (or just saying them in general). No one is entitled to anyone's forgiveness.

One thing I've seen thought up, though, is people saying that refrainbow should have known anyway that the word was off-limits. One anti art-commentary youtuber said, "I knew as a little kid that it was a BAD word, that you just DO NOT say." And yes, as an American kid, I'm sure they were observant enough to realize that it was a horrible word, even if they did not automatically know the history of that word.

Refrainbow is NOT American. He was learning English mainly through the internet, iirc, and even if he was also taking formal English classes, there usually isn't a section on slurs in said language. Now, in my French class, part of the lesson plan was learning about racism north African and Middle Eastern people faced in France (a very compressed lesson; I barely remember what the teacher told us in that lecture). We were not told slurs and told "Do not, under any circumstances, say these words." If I'd been in an online gaming community with a bunch of French kids back then, there is every possibility I could have repeated slurs in French, not knowing they were slurs, if everyone around me were using them like general insults. I would have assumed it was slang first, not slurs.

As for why antis add refrainbow saying the n-word at the very end of a rant/call-out, this is a pretty common tactic that I've seen in call-out-type posts I end up coming across. Lots of buzzwords are used, many with the barest amount of "evidence" (if there is any, or if there is, it's usually worst-faith takes of some post or passage from a fic). Usually it's full of rhetoric meant to stoke people's anger or disgust, and then at the very end is a claim not mentioned in the bulk of the call-out/rant and usually a shorter sentence. It's usually something worse than what else has been stated and may or may not come with actual proof, and this last part might be actually true or true if you hide context around it.

I think there are two main reasons for this. One is that depending on how long the call-out/rant is, most people are more likely to pay attention to just the beginning and end parts, skimming over the rest. Placing "the worse/worst thing" at the end then makes sure people actually read it. Another reason (tied to the first reason) is that this last point is more likely to stick in people's memories this way, so if people only skimmed the rest, they're more likely to believe the other points are true, too, especially if that last point has evidence attached or is easily searched.

There's been a few call-outs in my fandom recently (some were technically responses to earlier call-outs, showing proof that the original people making their call-out posts were lying/twisting the truth), so whenever I find myself getting disgusted or upset, I make sure to go back and read it more closely (if the call-out is about someone I follow/a mutual; I don't have energy to read rants about people I've never heard of before).

td;lr: refrainbow did say the n-word before, he's apologized, explaining that he was still learning English at the time and didn't know how bad the word was, and using points like this at the bottom of a call-out post seems to be deliberate, so that people remember The Bad Thing about the person more clearly.

#mod erin #ask #just anti things #posted without comment #n word mention

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heniareth · 2 years ago

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oo ok for astala romanticism asks 13 (Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them?) and/or 14 (Do they have an accent? How do they or others think of it?)

am i just using this as a chance to feel out your own headcanons on language in thedas? maaybe

Language!!! Yes we can do language!!! My only regret in this will be that I don't have nearly the evolved headcanons you have for the languages in Thedas. But I do have something, so let's talk about that!! Long post, and therefore under the cut.

13. Is your character bilingual or multilingual? Which language are they most comfortable in or prefer using? How did they come to learn them?

I don't have a proper city elf language bc I find myself with neither the time nor a sufficiently strong urge to create one. In my story, I'm veering more into dialect territory: slang, pronunciation and expressions. That said, there are some things I do think city elves would be notorious for, linguistically speaking. This is to say: Astala starts out speaking only whatever they speak in Ferelden (which is sad), although she does do her best to learn Antivan later on.

First, compound nouns. Elvhen has this amazing feature where you can stitch together words to make new words. Like telanadas, "nothing is inevitable". It's one word. I love those! The closest feature in a language I know irl is German with its Frankenwörter. I think city elves should be allowed to make their own Frankenwörter. As a treat. A dockcabletier is somebody who ties the ripes that hold the ships at the harbor. Rathunters. Businessfuckers aka tax collectors. Notforgetknots are knots you tie into something you have on your person so they remind you of something. Idk, I think it could be a lot of fun and would be a holdover from times when they had their own language that was much more malleable than poor old English.

Next, I think they'd be fantastic sweares when they're comfortable. Look at Sera. Sure, she didn't spend all her childhood in the Alienage, but she's very liberal and very colorful when it comes to swearing. Elvhen has always seemed very poetic to me (with expressions like "The Dread Wolf guides you" for someone who is wrong, for example). I think the city elves would apply similes, metaphors and other stylistic devices very liberally in their day to day life, to amazing effects. I really do Astala a disservice on this end because I do not swear creatively. I like to think I can maybe do her right in normal conversation however.

And, third, and this is not something from elvhen, but something that both Sera and Zevran do which I would like to apply to elvhen: question particles. I think elvhen should have question particles. Zevran is always ending his questions with "yes?" or "no?", Sera with "innit?" and I think it would be really neat and very in-character for Elvhen, which already sticks words together like they are wooden ice cream sticks repurposed for model building, to have something that indicates uncertainty glued to the end of a phrase and thus turning it into a question.

Fourth, slang. If you live among a lot of people and you don't want one half of the population to understand what's going on in your conversation but don't irritate them by speaking another language, I think slang is the way to go. I like to think that they call shem dogs sometimes. Lapdogs are rich human women, wardogs any human with martial training, etc. A bruise is a violet, it there's blood involved it's a rose, things like that. "The guy hands out violets like they're pennies" sounds much less innocuous than saying "careful, this guy likes to punch and will bruise you."

As for Astala learning Antivan, it's hard for her. Languages aren't her thing. She gets the vocab alright, but her grammar and pronuncuation are very distinctly Fereldan. She is generally much more comfortable when using the King's Tongue, but certain phrases she does prefer in Antivan. Many of them only come out when she and Zevran are alone.

14. Do they have an accent? How do they or others think of it?

In relation to the above: does Astala have an accent? Yeah she does! I do keep her dialogue somewhat USAmerican (I think) because the voice acting in the first game was pretty USAmerican and I like it. She and Sera, however, have many similarities in their way of speaking in my mind. Sera sounds pretty British-from-a-very-specific-area from what I've been able to identify, but they share other things.

Astala also does a lot of code switching. She'll be much less informal in her speech if she's not among her own: swear less, use less contractions and slang, put words into a different order, etc. The companions will get to hear the more informal side of her eventually. Still, when she speaks rapid-fire Denerim Alienage slang with Shianni, they too get lost. Alistair might find it funny, Ilanlas would be very confused and a bit exasperated because he doesn't understand them. Other than that, I don't think they'd mind much.

The code switching does come in handy once she's made a name for herself as The Warden(TM). She separates both ways of speaking so much that even on the battlefield her speech will be different depending on who she's leading, her companions or soldiers. The difference will be less noticeable than in everyday life, but it'll definitely be there. If she spoke before the Landsmeet the way she speaks at home, nobody would take her seriously, and she is very much aware of that (and she hates it. She's very protective of her accent: it's her's and that of the people she loves most, after all).

And this is what I have on languages and accents as of now, my friend. I do hope it was interesting, even if it's not broad or very developed headcanons, but rather details. O love languages and I wish we got more of them in Dragon Age and that I could make my own stuff, but for now the switch in register keeps me occupied nicely. Thanks for sending the ask!!! Have a lovely day!!! XD XD XD

#dragon age #dao #astala tabris #city elves #the denerim alienage

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flyingcookierambles · 3 years ago

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sadness over a3! eng i guess

oof just on my 700th day.....

kinda sad because of the announcement about A3! ENG server shutting down soon due to financial difficulties at LIBER/CYBIRD in the past two years (covid-19 related, etc.). according to a rather in depth reddit comment that had links to LIBER's publicly available financial reports + some financial reports from LIBER's parent company, Aeria, in english, covid-19 really hit LIBER hard since they had to cancel many money making events, from pop-up shops for the typical anime merch trinkets (keychains, plushes, pins, etc.) to the huge in-person events (voice actor meetups, the stage plays of MANKAI LIVE, etc.). due to shrinking player base on the ENG server + major loss of profits on both JPN and ENG servers, LIBER had to choose one or the other and they chose the JPN one, which i totally understand since it's way bigger there and the JPN fanbase will continue to give the franchise money more often. also, another person found a financial report/estimate from the google play store or something, and A3! ENG only made ~$20K to ~$10K in the past few months, which i guess is not enough to keep a server and localization company afloat.

i got pretty attached to the characters and it was a great game to help get by during college. and honestly, while i am very sad about this, again, i understand why LIBER did this, looking at their financial report from 2020. I would LIBER save the entire franchise rather than shut all the servers down, making us all unable to see our favorite actors ever again, even if it means that we ENG fans will have to go thru the extra steps of finding/reading fan translations, wikis, etc., to read any further stories from where A3! ENG left off. still, A3! ENG's localization was something special. i'm saying this as a TKRB JPN player who read the wiki for all the character voice lines and then had to see the official TKRB ENG localization make Yamabushi Kunihiro a rapper for some reason? lol. it was....weird.... meanwhile, all the memes and slang in A3! ENG didn't seem out of place and all fit their personalities because 3/4 of the troupes were all high school to college age and 3 of them were ~Gamers~. Out of all the gachas i've played, i feel like the only other F2P gacha game that had this incredibly smooth, all cultural jokes/puns translated in a way that still makes sense/fits the character/doesn't require a galaxy brain and some TL note to understand, is probably dragalia lost and that's only because it has frickin Nintendo localizing/publishing it globally for CyGames. Nintendo. i'll eventually read the fan translations of A3!'s Act 3 on the wiki, but it won't be the same without Kazunari's super high-energy influencer slang of "'whoa fam! that's totes 'blammable, gotta take a pic!" or Itaru's gremlin Gamer speak of "lol get rekt noobs" or Tsuzuru's tired dying breath of "that ain't it chief." the appropriate slang and relatable meme speak of the localization really helped humanize these characters as people of their respective ages, rather than just a typical formal speak or some directly translated JPN slang -> ENG that turns out super awkward that can be found in bad localizations.

going back to the reddit comment too, the death of A3! ENG servers could have bad repercussions in the future for other joseimuke games. josei, if you for some reason have been in the anime fandom but still don't know this term, is basically the genre of stories/video games/media/etc aimed at women. it's the mature adult counterpart to seinen, media aimed at adult men. basically shoujo/shonen = elementary/middle school/high school aimed while josei/seinen = high school/college/adult aimed if that helps. Joseimuke is a part of josei that is not specifically romance. while some josei/joseimuke can overlap with otome, aka female aimed dating sims/romance media, they have many things about them that make these all separate genres. one of the official A3! ENG translators and a known fan translator of another joseimuke gacha, Mahou Yaku/Wizard’s Promise, minami, goes more in depth with this in a twitter thread.

A3! was an actor raising game, and a big part of it was found family and relationships that were platonic. yet it got advertised as an otome, which has more connotations with dating sims and brings to mind other shoujo/otome games and anime where the cast is all high schoolers and the setting is most often in a high school. but, other than some characters making flirty jokes or implied to have crushes on Izumi/player character, many character relationships with Izumi are platonic and not romantic at all. Spring Troupe in the game also jokingly calls themself a family. the entire Mankai Company is basically found family. plus, since the game actually has time passing in story and the characters age with each year, half of the characters aren’t even in high school anymore. a large majority of them are in college or are graduated by now, with only a few still in high school. i’m not surprised if a reason that some people left the game was due to feeling bored with the slice of life/not romantic story, feeling that they were lied to about it being an otome, which was falsely advertised since it is a game meant for the older teens/adults demographic of josei/joseimuke.

i’m worried that other japanese companies will look at this shut down as a “josei/joseimuke doesn’t work well in the west” and never localize other josei/joseimuke gacha games like Mahou Yaku, EnStars, Twisted Wonderland, Helios, etc.

while i like otome and shoujo, i, as a 23/soon to be 24 year old college graduate and now tax paying adult, want more stories that have more mature themes and characters that are more my age so i don’t have to feel awkward when i’m playing some dating sim and i, a literal 23 year old adult, and trying to woo a 16 year old. it’s...a little awkward to say the least. i would gladly welcome more mature media that is categorized as josei/joseimuke.

sorry if this is all over the place, but overall im just sad that A3! ENG is shutting down. i don’t know if i’ll join the JPN server yet. i’m def going to read the Act 3 story via fan translators on the wiki, but A3! gameplay was...boring lmao. as much as i love A3!, im sure that the constant event grind/burnout and boring rng gameplay turned people off too and i dont blame them. i felt the burnout bad since i participated in basically every event since day 1. it. is. rough. i’m not joining the hellish thunderdome that is the JPN server and im not ranking anymore as a F2P player lmao. literally had to play almost every waking free moment to get into the 30%-20% bracket as a F2P person and i never got to top 20%-10%, much less top 1% lmao. i’m don’t whale enough lol.

i feel like i should probably just. crack open my genki 2 textbook and uhhh totally legal pdf copy of tobira. so i can just. get the JPN version of games in the first place so i don’t have to worry about getting shafted since overseas fans are often considered expendable.

i wish that, when any games that are online end, gacha or mmo or anything, anything online, companies will let fans archive things. or like. release a book that is just the story text or something. like. CYBIRD is letting us still technically play the game and have the story and all, but what if they eventually later shut everything down? why not just release a pdf/ebook that’s just the text of the eng localization for some money? i’d buy it. for nostalgia and rereads and all and also archiving purposes. i think i’ll try to help with any english localization archive projects if i can so that the hilarious and incredible localization that was a work of love from the translation team doesn’t just disappear forever.

well.

that’s it for now. as i said, guess i’ll head to the app for one of the last times to read the last unread stories and mini stories i have left, then the wiki for Act 3, and then i guess i’ll crack open genki 2 and bunpo.....

some fun random links for you to think about!

random ffxi article that came to mind (if ffxiv ever shuts down in the next 20 years or whatever i’d be cool to get a statue of my character at the end)

and death of a game playlist by NerdSlayer Studios on Youtube that has me thinking a lot about game preservation and losing MMOs and games

the lost media wiki and blameitonjorge’s lost media iceberg

other gacha games i’ve played that have shut down that i think about sometimes because the loss of A3! ENG isn’t my first rodeo:

terra battle & terra battle 2 (1)

AFTERL!FE

(related kitsu post link for archive reasons)

#rambles #games n junk #sad over a3! eng loss #a3!

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tomatograter · 4 years ago

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How do ya capture the "voice" of homestuck characters so well? Besides studying the comic, is there any other media you consume to really get in their head?

First off: Thanks, i’m happy you enjoy my stuff! Secondly… there ARE a few steps i take to the madness.

I basically come from a Dungeon master/Open-world roleplay management background, so when approaching HS cast voices and trying to understand a character to write a story for them i usually take into account 1.INSPIRATIONS, 2.INTERESTS & due to homestuck’s nature, 3.INTERPRETATIONS (As opposed to “player intent”- Hussie’s work is an amalgam of himself and the public input.)

Rereading their logs/sections always helps when you’re trying to figure out their language, pacing, and a bit of their temperament, but getting too lost on mimicking their messages as-is without looking into the character itself may risk leaving them ringing hollow or repetitive (specially for the section of the public that may be more familiar with this character than you are. This is something that may matter to you or not, if you WANT this work to appeal to a specific public or are just messing around.) Because it may just come down to mindless quirk indulgence. In my experience, readers are more forgiving & enthralled by creators who, while not following the specifics of a character’s quirk to a T maintain a sense of internal logic that is congruent with what is shown throughout their appearances. Some AU’s specifically remix, remove or substitute these aspects, and the reason why people usually don’t complain about it is that “it makes sense- given (x) and (x) context.” Like kidswap aus, etc.

Another thing about Quirks is that they can very easily be broken. Having a grasp of how quirk rules affect a character based on their emotional state and how it changes over time is more valuable than internalizing a hard set of rules that never changes. (Ex: Sollux’ quirk evolves over time. So does Aradia’s, as she changes bodies. June’s quirk takes on Vriska-like qualities after they begin chatting, Vriska uses 8’s and exclamation points more liberally and/or nonsensically when she’s angry/distressed/desperate, Jake’s transatlantic slang and embellishment of speech is mostly at the backseat unless he’s pretending/anxious/overwhelmed, otherwise he’s pretty simple.) Knowing how to break a quirk is just as good as knowing how to write it - traditional prose in fics *may not use quirks at all*, but they’re so good at grasping the particular intonation a character uses when stringing words together at a given situation that you don’t mind that at all. It’s a smooth adaptation.

[GREAT RESOURCE: this google drive has a compilation of all logs between characters in Homestuck separated by participants but usually only lists them on one-on-one basis, so you may wanna look at groupchats in the original comic. I think the epilogues section may be still unfinished. I forget who originally posted it on twitter but i know they have a dedicated tumblr, i’ll edit this if someone can name their blog]

“INSPIRATIONS” are usually how i define character personalities by their distinct mix of archetypes. This is the “PROTAGONIST”, “GOTH GIRL”, “SILLY GIRL”, “COOL GUY”, “WEIRDO”, “GAMER GIRL”, “CODING WANNABE” and other such little buzzwords that HS will throw around in reference to each of its characters, and that usually, but not always, function as a setup to subvert the expectations based on that character come a certain point in the story. Where does the character you’re trying to write fall into, when you try to describe them in these terms? Does their story humour this definition, reject it, destroy it, or evolve it? Does this seem like a genuine fact about them, or a facade? Why do you think that is? (Asking questions is my preferred way of pulling apart and understanding a character, this may work differently for you.)

“INTERESTS” is where i look into for that chunky, fatty, well-grilled meat that goes in the middle of a character’s text. Homestuck characters are defined by what they like, what they aspire to be, and what they fail at becoming(& how that shapes their actions going forwards). Interacting with the media they like may not always be the way, but having a general idea of how it functions and what it means to them is usually very helpful. I was already familiar with a lot of things my favorite characters enjoy, and thus it was easier for me to get attached to them. I also had to watch a lot of shitty movies sometimes. You win some, you lose some.

EX: It’s easier to write Dave’s pov if you have a good grasp of the pop culture & economics he so often references. (What he likes) It’s easier to write Rose’s pov when you’ve searched a bit of armchair psychology wikipedia definitions and familiarized yourself with the genre and existential questions usually involved in Eldritch Horror, and how it evolved outside of Lovecraft. (What she aspires to be like) It’s easier to write Jake when you understand his persona is a collage of juvenile and outdated archetypes taken from action flicks & shitty mainstream comicbooks, that he ultimately fails to ever live up to and hinders his development as a kid at odds with self-imposed traditional masculinity, dreading to publicize the big “Gay” word. (What he fails at becoming)

It’s always useful to ask yourself “Why does this character like (x)” and what that particular thing may say about them. It doesn’t have to be a big groundbreaking revelation, just put yourself into their shoes and try to reverse engineer what you’re presented about them vs their environment, personal issues, and you might just find yourself understanding why they do what they do.

“Karkat probably likes cheesy romantic comedies because they’re peak middleclass normalass media for someone who’s ostracized from troll society and is purposefully a shithead to keep people away”

“Terezi probably likes dragons because they’re FUCKING COOL but also whoops here’s all this historic lore about Redglare and their lusus and a tragic sense of JUST1C3”

“Aradia probably grapples with the concept of mortality and the ephemeral nature of life, so she’s really into the morbid observation of disasters & archeology & bones, i guess? Is this because she died really young? Oh. Maybe yeah.”

But if you find the above too hard to access on your own, that’s where

INTERPRETATIONS come in to make this process smoother in the case you just wanna write an extended cast thing and frankly you could not give less of a shit about (x)’s lore, you just want to have a sense of what people like about them, and why people read about them, and how you can purposefully adapt that into your text so socmedia user halfucker69 isn’t crying on your mentions for 11 whole threaded comments about how you did their babyboybaby wrong. I can’t exactly point to you where you can FIND meta because this highly depends on the character, and sometimes you just have to make your own food, but you’ll be good if you try to look into creators who post about these characters, whose thoughts or fan media seem to be congruent with your idea of said character or solid enough that you can easily see how it’s been developed from point A to point B. Interact with more fanworks. Find out what works for you and what doesn’t. “Character study” is a whole genre of fanfic, if you don’t wanna go for shippy stuff - but a lot of “shippy stuff” has its own valuable edge to seeing how people internalize a character, and shouldn’t be as easily dismissable as it is. Again, you’ll have to rely on your own sense of internal logic here - you can’t take EVERY work as the universal truth, but trying stuff out will give you a better sense of who you think this character is.

Then you have to get around trying to write it, which is easier said than done. A lot of times writing about a character will lead you to understanding them better, and you may even find yourself disagreeing with things past-you said when you were first beginning to think about them, and that’s ok. You only get better at writing by asking better questions and then writing some more. Take your time with it. I hope this helps!

#homestuck #homestuck 2 #meta

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cherry3point14 · 5 years ago

Text

Cookies & Milk

Pairing: Dean x British!Reader Warnings: Established D/s, mind you don’t fall down the crack Word Count: 2,172. Summary: Dean buys you some cookies. You call them biscuits. Arguments ensue, lines are drawn and restraints are required. A/N: Have any of y’all met @winchesters-meaty-feast? She’s my pal and partner in crime. We have extensive conversations about many a subject but one day the most important topic arose. Biscuits. I’m a dunker, she is not. It almost tore us apart but luckily we’re stronger than that. Anyway, I drabbled this Dom/sub biscuit thing in our chat and the following CRACK is what snowballed from that. (This is meant to be dumb ok. Don’t come for me over this weirdness.)

Ao3 if you prefer.

You should close your laptop.

In the late afternoon—underground where the time of day doesn’t matter—even then the light it’s emitting is too blue. Sure, you could turn down the brightness but it’s too little too late. Your eyes are already starting to ache from the strain.

You're not even doing anything important. You started scrolling a few hours ago; a news story that might have been something, but turned out to be nothing. Less than nothing, it was mundane. Dull as dishwater, as your mum might say. You would have closed your laptop then if it hadn’t been for that link at the bottom of the page. To another article, this time about an unexpected cold snap. This leads you to look up weather trends in Kansas, which becomes reading the articles on weather.com. Who even knew weather.com had articles? Still, they do and they’re very informative. The problem is that their data all points to it being cold as balls soon (your term, not theirs). So, now you’re shopping, with a pair of snow boots and two winter coats in your basket. And you’re debating a new scarf to put you over the free shipping threshold.

It is really time to shut your laptop before you go ahead and checkout. Dean hates having to pick up your parcels in town. Always complains that you have a problem. Pretty hypocritical considering the number of breweries he keeps in business. Besides he doesn’t even have a reason to complain, Marta loves seeing him, she lights up like a Christmas tree for him. You walk into the post office and you get a ton of side-eye, plus a ten-minute wait, but Dean? Well, he’s always at the front of her line.

You’re so engrossed in shopping that you don’t immediately look up at the sound of the bunker door. It’ll be Dean, you know that much. He’ll have a couple of brown bags from his supply run and you don't want to insult him by insinuating that he needs help.

It’s for the greater good anyway, the longer you sit here the more chance there is of you buying him snow boots too. Maybe he'll let you buy him a hat too.

Once he’s finished stomping his way down the stairs he sets the paper bags down next to you. It just so happens that's the exact moment you finally look up at him. A grateful smile on your face and over the top fluttering eyelashes—to remind him how loveable you are.

He shakes his head at how obvious you are. “I didn’t buy them for just you.” His unnecessary emphasis is all the permission you need.

“Is that smoke?” You sniff the air, one arm sliding inside the nearest bag, “must be the fire in your pants.”

He tries. Bless his heart. He tries to hold out. You can see him chewing the inside of his mouth as your arm moves about inside the bag to liberally finger his goods. The haul from the supermarket anyway. But he cannot resist your lame jokes and it ends the same as always. He cracks. A twitch of his lip, shaking his head and then an eye roll even Sam would be proud of.

“Other bag, Sherlock.”

“Ah-ha!” You grin when you switch to the other bag. Instead of fresh fruits and vegetables, you’re treated to food of the more processed variety. Plastic bags filled with crisps, a pie carton and, oh he really does love you, biscuits.

You slink back down to your screen, tearing the package open with your teeth as you do. Revitalised by the imminent influx of sugar. Dean sighs but doesn’t say another word. He picks up the rest of the groceries and carries them away. Presumably to the kitchen by the distant sounds of him putting everything away.

It’s another five minutes when he returns with a glass of milk that he puts down next to you. With a determined thump of glass on wood, as if the sound is an entire explanation.

“Thanks, but you know I don’t…”

“Take the damn milk.”

Normally you’d be irritated for being cut off mid-sentence, but it’s his exasperated tone that catches your attention. You even deign to look at him again, ignoring the popup that’s offering an extra 15% off if you enter your email. “You ok?”

He scratches at the scruff on his jaw while he tries to internally talk himself down from the ledge. “Nothing, nothing. Drink the milk, please.”

You look from him to the glass and frown at the white liquid. There’s nothing wrong with it per se. It looks like a perfectly good glass of milk, the kind you might see on a ‘got milk’ ad from the nineties. It’s not that you hate milk, you just prefer your biscuits to have a little bite. Dean should know that by now but if he’s forgotten then you are more than happy to remind him. “You eat your biscuits how you want, let me eat mine how I want.”

In your attempt to be rational you have failed to notice the desperation in his, 'please'. And now you’ve managed to tick him off.

“Cookies,” he grinds out.

“What?”

“They’re cookies. Dammit, you’ve lived here long enough to call a cookie a cookie.”

The outburst is not Dean’s fault. He’s not exactly hoarding MAGA caps and asking you to go back to England. No, this outrage is the product of a very specific joke that you might have taken too far.

Ordinarily, you switched back and forth between American and British all the time. As easy as breathing. You’d lived in the good ol’ US of A for long enough that your brain simply picked out the first word it could reach. A lot of the time it ended up being American without much intention, people understood better.

And then a few weeks back you’d been on the way to a hunt, sprawled in the back seat. Despite the fact that you were still strategizing with Sam you were comfortable. You could have fallen asleep right there if Sam hadn't kept talking. The word had slipped out on a whim. You called Baby’s trunk a boot.

Dean—being an absolute drama queen—had slammed on the brakes and eloquently asked what the fuck you called his Baby. Apparently, it was the first time you’d said that particular British word.

If you hadn’t found his reaction utterly hilarious that would have been the end of it. Except you did find it funny. The way his face soured, that little crease in the middle of his brow, he was so offended by four little letters. It was beautiful.

Now it’s been a few weeks of very purposeful language choices. Asking to borrow his mobile to make a call, or to wear his hoodie. And you’ll admit the ‘pip pip cheerio’ as he left the bunker earlier had been excessive. That isn’t even a real thing people say.

You’ve been torturing the poor guy with British slang. And because this isn’t the first time you’ve taken a joke too far, you’d usually hold your hands up and apologise. You’re good at apologising. He likes when you have to apologise because you always make it worth his while.

The problem is, biscuit had been an honest-to-god slip of the tongue. It had been the most natural word for your brain to conjure and so his anger seems a tad unjustified. Utterly out of proportion.

“It’s a biscuit.” You repeat as you take a bite, noticing the way his left eye seems to twitch at the crunch.

“It’s a cookie. It says right there on the packet. It’s a fucking sandwich cookie.” He points at the ripped plastic on the table for emphasis.

You sigh with the kind of effort that forces all the air from your lungs. “This country can’t spell half the time, why should I trust the packet?”

“Because you’re eating from it.”

He’s got you on a technicality. And he knows it. He knows it by the telling pause before you speak and the flash of panic in your eyes.

“So?”

It’s not an argument that’s going to win world-class debates but you couldn’t go ahead and let him have the last word.

Dean's problem now is he thinks he’s got you on the ropes, so he goes and gets cocky. He puffs out his chest a little and bites back a smirk.

“So? So… cookies and milk is as American as apple pie-”

“Invented by the Dutch.”

“-whatever. It’s a thing. Which means you gotta sit down, shut up and drink your fucking milk.”

You always love it when he does that. Argues his way to a conclusion whether he’s right or not. It’s kind of ridiculously hot.

Or at least that’s how you justify putting your half-eaten biscuit down. Slowly rising from your chair and crawling onto his lap. You lean in, slow enough to tease him, letting your breath settle over his skin as you whisper in his ear. “I know a way we could settle this.”

“What’re you doing?” He manages between teeth that are grinding against each other. The muscles in his arms are tense where he’s pulling at the rope that holds him.

Any other night and you might calm him down at this point. Remind your good boy that he shouldn’t hurt himself. Or depending on the game you’d remind him who he belongs to, who he’s foolishly directing his anger towards. But there’s no soothing touches or harsh reminders bestowed upon Dean tonight. This game is different. This is a battle for dominance, unlike one you’ve played before.

For the first time, he wants to win as much as you do.

There’s no mutual satisfaction in the room because you’re both out for blood. Where blood equals being right about snack goods. And unfortunately for Dean, he didn’t figure it out before he let you tighten the ropes around his wrists.

“I thought that was obvious, baby. I wanted something sweet.”

His eyes flick between the glass of milk he’d seen you carry in and the cookies plated up beside it. Well, you’d call them biscuits but that’s not what this argument is about.

“Don’t you dare.” There’s a threat in his voice.

For a moment it surprises you and you’re quick to counter him, “I’ll do what I like.” Your tone is reminder enough for him to remember his place.

He retreats a little, gives an inch so that you can take a mile. A breath rattles through his chest doing little to calm his tightly wound body. At the very least, he switches anger for desperation. Dean knows you love it when he pleads, “please Princess. Please, I’m begging you. Dunk it.”

Your entire body glows a little when he calls you by your name. The change in his attitude only urges you onwards though, with a smirk turning up the corners of your mouth.

Your hand finds a treat, fingers picking it up with deliberate, delicate movements. His eyes are wide as he watches you hover the biscuit over the glass as if maybe you’ll appease him. The whimper he lets out when you bypass the drink is almost fulfilling enough that you’re no longer hungry. Almost.

The room takes on an eerie silence as you part your lips and take a bite. A loud, crunchy bite. Crumbs fall onto the table beneath you—probably in slow motion— and chewing only seems to increase the volume.

“Son of a bitch.” He mutters as you swallow, “you’re crazy.”

You hadn’t planned on it but you walk across the room then, half a biscuit in your hand and a satisfied smile on your face. He’s slumped in his chair a little. He’s defeated since he knows he won’t defeat the knots keeping him in place.

“Come on, try it for me.”

“Go to hell.”

It's your turn to roll your eyes, “don’t be so dramatic, you’ve been to hell. This can’t be that bad.”

As you reason with him, you slide into his lap again, which will be torture enough because he can’t touch you. Except you also hold the biscuit to his lips.

“Please. For me. Be my good boy.” You coo as if you're not toying with him.

His thighs twitch beneath you at the use of his nickname and, because he’s always your good boy, he opens his mouth.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer

#dean x reader #supernatural fanfiction #spn x reader #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfiction #supernatural #spn #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfic #dean winchester #dean winchester x you #dean x you #dean x y/n #dean dean the soft lil bean #I missed all the 2020 bingos so this is the sort of shit you have to suffer with now #I bet you missed me now

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imtrynnawriteshit · 5 years ago

Text

Jacob Frye x Female!Reader (1? Maybe? It’s a surprise for everyone involved)

Hullo!!! Guess who it is??

Me, a lil shit

This was fueled by an intense yearning for all things Victorian (I've been gazing longingly at what WikiVictorian posts on twitter for a couple of weeks now) coupled with an obsession with Mr. Frye

Contains Victorian slang, that I’ve probably butchered beyond recognition

Again, I do wanna continue this, but if I’m back to being a bastard, I might not rip

Pls lemme know if it's too cringe. If it is, I will bury myself in sand, never to surface

Words: 1768

Warnings: One (1) fuck (2 now, I suppose oof), might end up sounding a lil pretentious or sucky or both :(

Fandom: Assassin’s Creed (Syndicate)

Characters: Jacob Frye, You!!

Relationships: So far, Jacob Frye x Reader

The morning greeted you with news of your mother’s death.

Murder, they said it was, her throat slit open with an unnerving amount of precision. No eyewitnesses, even though it took place where she was completely surrounded by her guards. What good were they when they obviously couldn’t do their fucking jobs very well?

Pearl was deserving of a lot of things, but a lonely death wasn’t one of them.

Seated in your carriage, you idly wondered if the house would feel any emptier than it usually did, what with her always off somewhere, attending to business. You didn’t want to dwell on your uncle’s - no, Mr. Starrick’s words. Obviously they weren’t of consolation (not like you needed or wanted them to be, anyway); he wasn’t the kind to care for others, especially when they weren’t what he would consider family, you knew that. No, everything was about his wretched Order as always. The very Order that got the only familial figure to ever care for you killed.

Shaking yourself out of your thoughts, you glanced out the window, hoping to lose yourself in the sights and sounds of the city around you, only to catch a fleeting glimpse of someone’s boot heading towards the top of the carriage, which jostled. Once. Twice.

You barely had enough time to blink, let alone register what was happening as you watched your driver fall (or was he thrown?) to the ground before the carriage sped away, much faster than before, crashing into lampposts and fences. It went on like this for what felt like ages, only coming to a (rather abrupt) halt once you were far enough away from where you’d been, making you lurch forward. One of your hands flew to your chest, the other gripping the seat in the time that you took a few deep breaths to try and get your racing heart back under control, even as you heard a dull thud, and heavy footsteps making their way towards you. The carriage door was flung open, and a man slid into the seat opposite you before shutting it with a resounding click.

While he made himself at home, you took the time to examine him, his general (and rather fetching, in your opinion) appearance and apparent nonchalant attitude (even to approaching an obviously unaccompanied and unwed woman, you thought amusedly, lips twitching into a barely detectable smirk) telling you all you needed to know. The gauntlet worn proud on his arm didn’t hurt either.

This was your mother’s killer. The assassin, Jacob Frye. Was he here to kill you now?

If death was to indeed come by his blade, you didn’t think you’d mind his being the last face you ever saw.

“Miss Attaway, I presume.” It wasn’t a question, but you still inclined your head slightly in acknowledgement. “And what were you up to this early in the day? Not taking the time to grieve before you step into mummy’s shoes?” His tone remained conversational, but you could see the accusation, the distrust in his eyes, in the way his body was ever so slightly tensed, poised to strike at the slightest hint of danger. This time, you let yourself smile.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business, Mr. Frye”, schooling your expression, you leaned forward slightly, matching the intensity of his gaze with your own while your hand stealthily crept towards the pistol you knew was tucked under the cushions, “your dealings had to do with Pearl, not me. Leave me out of whatever this is.”

That got a reaction out of him. Setting his mouth in a hard line, he copied you, elbows coming to rest on his knees, arms pointed casually in your direction, but you knew what it was: a warning. Your fingers curled around the gun the moment it came into your grasp, but you knew not to pull it out yet. You had to time it right.

Though, you supposed you were flattered to have managed to warrant such caution from a man clearly far more menacing than you were.

“Y'see, it is my business. You may be a proper bit of frock, but considering your…relations, it’s not a stretch to assume that the next time we meet may very well end with my blade buried in you.”

You only angled yourself further towards him, chin resting on your free hand as you tilted your head to the side, half-lidded eyes tracing his features, delighting in the way his own followed your movements closely.

“Is that a promise, Mr. Frye?”

Your words were but a whisper, spoken through lips curved in a salacious smile. Rather reluctantly, an answering grin spread across his face, and it took all you had to not swoon at the sight. It certainly wouldn’t do you very well to have him think you’d go off in an aromatic faint every time a man so much as smiled at you.

“None of your cheek and back answers now, this is a serious conversation. One that has no need of a pistol, I should think”, he motioned to where you’d been practically strangling the poor weapon just out of sight.

Straightening, you huffed and let your hands fall into your lap, “alright, fine, what exactly would you like to know? Or did you just abduct me to reprimand me for not mourning an adequate amount of time?”

He sat back again, arms crossed, a self satisfied look on his face, “We’ll get back to that later if you’d like, but for now”, his voice dropped an octave or two, and you felt it rumble through your chest, almost making your breath hitch, “what are Starrick’s plans for you?”

“If that’s your way of asking if I’m joining the Templars, then no, I’m not. He’s allowed me that much, at least. I will, however, be taking over ownership of Attaway Transport.”

He furrowed his brow, “you’re taking over the business? You don’t look like an Albertine.”

Though he probably didn’t mean them to, his words almost made you burst your stay lace. “I’ll have you know I’m more than capable of it! After all, I was the one taking care of the accounts back when Pearl was still- well-”

“Yes, yes, I’m sure. And you’ll be working under Starrick, then?”

Attractive as he may have been, you didn’t think you liked the way he dismissed your (righteous) indignation.

“Certainly looks that way”, you narrowed your eyes at him, “if I want to keep the business, I don’t have much of a choice, do I? Otherwise I lose the deed.”

That piqued his interest. “You don’t want to work for him?”

“Of course not! He’s a right bastard.”

“And also your uncle.”

You rolled your eyes, “in name only. And with Pearl’s death, he’s not even that anymore. Said so himself, in as many words.”

“Hang on”, he frowned, “are you not related by blood? To him and Pearl?”

You scoffed incredulously, raising an eyebrow, “I thought assassins tended to research their targets thoroughly. It appears I was mistaken”, at his scowl, you hurriedly continued, “but no, I’m not. Pearl took me in when I was younger.”

“So you have no obligations to Starrick?”

“None”, you exhaled sharply, suddenly exhausted. This was not how you expected your day to go at all. Clearing your throat, you pressed on, “are we done here? Or was there something else you wanted?”

He seemed to think for a minute or two, before coming to a decision.

“Work with us.”

You were stunned, to say the least. It must’ve been apparent, because he looked like he was trying not to laugh.

“What did you say?”

“Look, you’ll be running the only transport business in the city as of now, and I imagine you’d find yourself in close quarters with Starrick often enough. You could gather information, provide us with funds we - or others - might need, help liberate the people of London!” He spread his arms wide as he stared at you, likely eagerly awaiting your acceptance.

“No.”

“No?”

“No, sir?” Did he honestly expect you to agree? “The only person this partnership helps is you. I’m going to be the one sticking my neck out for you. And you have nothing to offer me in return. Any such agreement has to be mutually beneficial. And no”, you cut him off before he could get a word in, “your protection doesn’t count. It’s not exactly something I need.”

“But-”

“Mr. Frye”, you sighed, “you seem like a good man, and ordinarily I’d at least consider it, but it’s been a trying day, and-”, you paused as you saw the briefest glimpse of dismay cross his face, before it was gone. It made you uneasy, an incessant bob in your throat to see that, though you weren’t sure why. Still, you supposed you could be just a bit kinder. “Tell you what, if you do realise you have something you could bargain with, we can discuss terms. But only if I think it’s worth the trouble.”

He considered your words for a moment, before nodding, holding his hand out to you.

“We’re in agreement, then?”

“We are”, he affirmed, and you reached out to shake his hand.

“Wonderful. I’ll expect to see you soon enough. But for now”, you gestured vaguely in the direction you’d come from, “would you be so kind as to fetch me a driver? I’d walk, but I’m afraid I don’t know where we are. I might lose my way”, you smiled innocently up at him.

“I could always drive you, there’s no need for all that.”

“Forgive me, but any more of your driving and I might just find myself losing my breakfast”, you ignored his sputtering at your remark, “besides, there will be eyes on my home at all times now. Starrick doesn’t trust me yet, so he’s going to make absolutely certain I’m not…fraternising. I can’t be seen with you or anyone affiliated with you and your sister. So no Rooks either.”

He nodded, looking quite resigned, and opened the carriage door, “very well, ma'am, I shall fetch you your driver. Though, I do hope I don’t have to make an appointment for when I drop by to seal the deal?”

You bit your lip as a mischievous smirk flitted across your lips.

“I’d usually prefer a calling card, but I suppose you could always commandeer my carriage again. Only next time”, he turned to look at you, amusement glinting in his eyes, “try not to wreck London as you do so, please.”

Slang used:

Proper bit of frock - a pretty and clever well-dressed girl

(She’ll) go off in an aromatic faint - said of a fantastical woman, meaning that her delicate nerves will surely be the death of her

Back answers - sharp retorts, quick-tongued replies, without any concession to the laws of etiquette

Albertine - an adroit, calculating, business-like mistress

Burst (her) stay lace - A sudden bust-heaving feminine indignation, which might even literally, and certainly does figuratively, bring about this catastrophe.

Calling card - small cards used for social purposes; also called visiting cards

#Jacob Frye x reader #Jacob Frye #assassin's creed x reader #assassin's creed imagines #assassin's creed syndicate #mine

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chiaki-translation · 4 years ago

Text

A3! SSR Kazunari (Welcome to Miyoshi Farm) Backstage Story

I deleted the previous post because I’m ashamed that I made so many errors. Shouldn’t have done it in a rush, but here it is. Fixed the error, I hope this is fine now~

Summary: The company receives a request to help out in a farm. (I don’t know how else to summarize this story so...)

The card I’m referring to will be this card below~ Love this card, Kazu looks so good especially in the bloomed version.

Disclaimer:

A3! is owned by Liber Entertainment.

As usual, the translation will be below, enjoy~

A Summer Farming Experience

Translator’s Notes: Yoropiko is how Kazu says ‘Yoroshiku’ which roughly translates to ‘Pleased to work with you’. I kept it as Yoropiko because the kids followed his slang.

Kazunari:

So, have we bought everything?

Director:

Hmm, we bought daily necessities and meat, the next thing we need will be……

Citron:

Director, the vegetables right!

Good afternoon~

Greengrocer’s Auntie:

Hi, welcome.

Director:

Good afternoon.

Then can I have some potatoes, carrots, and leeks?

Greengrocer’s Auntie:

Alright, please wait a minute.

Here you go. You always buy a lot of things, so I added a few bonuses for you guys.

Kazunari:

Oh! Thanks so much~!

Director:

Thank you very much!

Greengrocer’s Auntie:

Oh yeah, a farmer I know are looking for help for a short time period.

It would be only for a week, there aren’t enough people so we’ve been looking for more people to help.

Director:

I see.

Greengrocer’s Auntie:

You guys too, do you know anyone who would be able to help?

Citron:

Oh, if that’s the case we’ll get our inside people to help you out then, that’s good right!

Kazunari:

Who would want to go I wonder!

Director:

We’re still amateur about agriculture, but we’ll try to help.

Greengrocer’s Auntie:

Really? That’ll help.

It’s okay even if you’re new, they’ll teach you properly from the beginning.

Then, I’ll contact you again for more details.

Citron:

When we’re back, let’s look for people who can go~!

Kazunari:

Yep!

Kazunari:

Hi, attention everyone~!

Citron:

Attention!

Sakuya:

What is it?

Kazunari:

The truth is, we’re going to go to help out the farmers!

Tasuku:

That’s too short to understand.

Director:

They don’t have enough people, so they were looking for people to help out the farmers.

Tasuku:

Then, is it that they can’t find other people than us.

Citron:

That’s right!

Kazunari:

As expected of Tax! You caught up fast!

Director:

By the way, the duration will be one week and you have to stay overnight. It seems that they’re going to request for various things other than harvesting vegetables.

Kazunari:

They’ll teach you everything from beginning, so even beginners are no problem!

Sakuya:

Helping out the farmers, that sounds fun!

Director:

It’s agriculture, so it will be reassuring to get people with more power and strength……

Citron:

Yes indeed~!

Tasuku:

…… It’s me isn’t it.

Kazunari:

If Tax is there, we’ll have the power of 100 over people~!

Tasuku:

Well, there will be no guest performance during that period of time so I don’t actually mind.

Director:

Thank you so much!

Citron:

How about you, Sakuya?

You said it sounds interesting just now!

Sakuya:

Yeah! If I can be of help, I’ll help out too!

Citron:

Oh, then I’m glad.

I want you to do your best in my stead!

Kazunari:

Eh? Ronron you can’t make it!?

Tasuku:

I thought you’re just going to follow the flow and participate too.

Citron:

I’m sorry, there are some circumference so I cannot go.

Director:

Eh, you mean, circumstances……?

Citron:

That’s it!

Tasuku:

That’s totally different.

Director:

It’s a pity that Citron can’t make it.

That means those helping out will be me, Kazunari-kun, Tasuku-san, and Sakuya-kun.

Tasuku:

Yeah.

Kazunari:

Looking forward to it~!

Sakuya:

I’ll do my best!

Director:

Yeah! Everyone, let’s do our best!

Director:

Good afternoon. Sorry to disturb you.

Grandfather:

Good afternoon. Thank you for coming all the way here.

Grandmother:

To come all the way here to help, thank you very much.

Director:

(They looked like a very kind couple…)

Sakuya:

Pleased to work with you!

Tasuku:

Pleased to work with you.

Kazunari:

I’ll be in your care for the week!

Grandmother:

Pleased to work with you too.

Grandfather:

I would like to ask for everyone’s help in harvesting the vegetables.

Feel free to ask me any question if there’s anything you don’t understand.

Sakuya:

Yes, I’ll do my best!

Director:

If we’re talking about summer vegetables…… It means time for vegetable curry!

Kazunari:

Director-chan so consistent~!

Tasuku:

Really.

Grandmother:

Ah, that sounds good.

Vegetable curry will be delicious.

Grandfather:

Then on the last day, we should include vegetable curry in our vegetable party.

Director:

Really!? I’ll be looking forward to it!

Grandfather:

Fufu. Then without further ado, should we get to the harvesting?

Kazunari:

I’ll enjoy it lots~!

Tasuku:

Yeah. It sounds like it can be a good training.

Sakuya:

I’ll enjoy it too!

Boy:

I got this too~!

Girl:

Woah, it’s reaaaally big!

Director:

Eh? Those kids are……?

Grandfather:

Ah, those 2 are the neighbor’s kids.

They sometimes come over to help.

Sakuya:

I see!

To come here to help out, that’s great.

Kazunari:

Hey hey, let’s start helping out too?

Girl:

Who are all these onii-chan~?

Kazunari:

From today on, we will be helping out in this field!

Senpai, yoropiko~!

Girl:

Ahaha, yoropiko~!

Boy:

I’ll teach you how to do it!

Tasuku:

I’m counting on you.

Grandfather:

Then, let’s start.

Director:

Yes!

Kazunari:

Yeay! I harvested a lot~!

Kids:

We collect a lot~!

Sakuya:

There are bell pepper, ocra……

There are really a lot of vegetables growing in this field!

Tasuku:

It seems that they can still be harvested though, is this amount enough for now?

Grandfather:

Yes, thank you for your help.

Director:

But what a big field……

Is it still going beyond there?

Grandfather:

Yeah, we’re actually growing corns beyond that area.

Tasuku:

Oh, corn.

Kazunari:

Then, are we going to pick up some corns too!?

Grandfather:

No no, the corns will be only be ready to be eaten in a few more days so let’s wait a little bit longer.

Kazunari:

I see~! Looking forward to it!

Director:

Corn huh, if we can put it in curry it will be so delicious……

Kazunari:

Director-chan, so you’re not thinking about your vegetable curry anymore?

Director:

Of course I am! I’m so excited thinking about making vegetable curry with vegetables that I picked myself.

Kazunari:

I think I know your feeling!

Yosh! Let’s do the best for the rest!

Director:

Without realizing it, we’re already on our last day.

Kazunari:

Ah it’s ending~

It didn’t feel like it’s already been 1 week from our 1st day!

Sakuya:

It’s fun that we were able to harvest a lot!

Tasuku:

Yes, it was a good experience.

Director:

Everyone, let’s do our best on the last day!

Grandmother:

Heave-ho…

Sakuya:

Ah, do you need to carry all this farming tools?

I’ll help you out!

Tasuku:

It looks heavy, I’ll help out too.

Grandmother:

That’ll help, thank you.

Grandfather:

Then, the corn should be ready to be eaten by now, let’s go and harvest them today.

Director:

Wah, I want to go!

Kazunari:

I’ll go pick up corns too!

Kazunari:

Woah, there’re so many corns here!

Director:

Amazing……!

Grandfather:

The two of you were so interested with the corns, so I thought I would let you harvest them too.

Director:

Is that so. Thank you so much.

Kazunari:

Yosh, let’s do our best!

Grandfather:

Come here, I’ll teach you how to harvest the corns.

Director:

Eh…… what?

(I was able to pick them up normally until now, but somehow I can’t pick this up well……)

Kazunari:

Director-chan, are you alright?

Director:

Ah, yeah.

Somehow, I can’t pick this one up.

Kazunari:

Let me try~

Hmm, you’re right. It’s hard.

This kind of thing would need a bit of trick to solve.

This side right here and—pull!

Yosh, got it~!

Director:

Thank you!

Kazunari:

If you found another one like this, just call me!

Choice 1: I’ll depend on you.

Choice 2: This is so fun.

[

Director:

Kazunari-kun, you’re so quick to learn all those tricks, I’ll depend on you.

Kazunari:

If Director-chan said so, I’ll get shy~

Because Director-chan is here, of course I did my best.

That’s why, rely on me more!

]

[

Director:

It’s my first time harvesting corn, but this is so fun.

Kazunari:

That’s right! There are a few difficulties on the process, but it feels so fresh and refreshing!

I was quite inspired too, I was thinking of painting this landscape when we got back.

Director:

Fufu, I see.

Kazunari:

Today’s our last day so, let’s keep having fun till the end!

]

Kazunari:

There’s still a lot of them, so let’s put them away and collect more~!

Director:

You’re right, let’s do our best!

Grandfather:

We managed to get the corns to so that should be all the harvest we needed.

Grandmother:

Then, we need to start preparing for the vegetable party.

Sakuya:

Let us help too!

Tasuku:

Yes, please tell us if you need any help.

Grandmother:

Is it alright?

Kazunari:

Course! Leave it to us~!

Grandmother:

Thank you. Then, please.

Director:

Umm, if you would like, I could help you with the curry preparation……

Grandmother:

Fufu, Tachibana-san was the one who proposed the vegetable curry right, then can I leave the curry preparation to you?

Director:

Eh! Is it alright?

Grandmother:

I’ll leave it to you by all means.

Director:

Thank you so much!

I’ll do my best at making it!

Sakuya:

As expected of Director!

Kazunari:

Ikr~!

Director:

No, you don’t need to say that……

Tasuku:

Who else would shine so much when asked to do some work……

Kazunari:

I’m done~!

Oh that looks good!?

Director:

The bright color makes it look delicious right!

Grandmother:

Everyone is here, so let’s eat.

Sakuya:

Itadakimasu!

Kazunari:

Itadakimasu!

Tasuku:

Itadakimasu.

Director:

Itadakimasu.

*munch munch*

So, so delicious……!

Sakuya:

Yes! It’s so delicious!

Tasuku:

Yeah, as expected the freshness makes all the difference.

Kazunari:

The tomatoes and cucumbers are so fresh, delicious!

Grandmother:

The curry that Tachibana-san make is also very good.

Grandfather:

Yes, it really brings out the flavour of the vegetables.

Director:

It’s nice that it suits your taste!

Grandfather:

The 4 of you, thank you so much for coming to help.

Director:

Same here, to be able to gain such a valuable experience, thank you so much.

Tasuku:

I have to thank you for the eggplants too.

Sakuya:

It wasn’t only the harvesting, but I was able to make vegetable stamps too, thank you for teaching us a lot of things!

Kazunari:

Me too, everyday was so fun~!

I hope one day we could eat the vegetables we harvested by ourselves again~

Grandfather:

If you say it that way, we’re very happy.

Kazunari:

If you ever look for help again, feel free to call us!

Director:

If you need more people, we could also call for more, make sure to call us again!

Grandmother:

That’s reliable of you.

I hope you’ll take care of us again in the future.

Director:

Yes!

(Everyone seems to be having fun, I’m glad this turns out to be such a fun experience……!)

#a3!#a3! act! addict! actors!#a3! translation #kazunari miyoshi #a3! backstory

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star-anise · 6 years ago

Note

do you have any sources on the claims you made? im always willing to change my stance if you have legitimate backing for it haha

So first, I’m sorry for blowing up at you the way that I did. I’m not proud that I reacted in such a kneejerk, aggressive fashion. Thank you for being open to hearing what I have to say. I’m sorry for mistaking you for a TERF, and I’m sorry my response has caused other people to direct their own hostility towards you.

So, here’s the thing. “You can’t call bi women femmes” is pretty intrinsically a radfem thing to say, and I am deeply opposed to letting radfems tell me what to do. I’m trying to write this during a weekend packed with childcare and work. I’ll try to hit all the high notes.

The one thing I am having trouble finding is the longass post I talked about in my reply, that was a history of butch/femme relationships in lesbian bars, which had frequent biphobic asides and talked about “the lesbophobic myth of the bi-rejecting lesbian”; the friend who reblogged it without reading it thoroughly has deleted it, and I can’t find it on any of the tags she remembers looking at around that time. If anyone can find it, I’ll put up a link.

As far as possible, I’m linking to really widely accessible sources, because you shouldn’t intrinsically trust a random post on Tumblr as secret privileged knowledge. People have talked about this at length in reputable publications that your local library either has, or can get through interlibrary loan; you can look up any of the people here, read their work, and decide for yourself. This is a narrative of perspectives, and while I obviously have a perspective, many people disagree with me. At the end of the day, the only reason I need for calling bi women femmes is that You Are Not The Boss Of Me. There is no centralized authority on LGBT+ word usage, nor do I think there should be. Hopefully this post will give you a better sense of what the arguments are, and how to evaluate peoples’ claims in the future.

I looked up “butch” and “femme” with my library’s subscription to the Oxford English Dictionary because that’s where you find the most evidence of etymology and early use, and found:

“Femme” is the French word for “woman”. It’s been a loanword in English for about 200 years, and in the late 19th century in America it was just a slangy word for “women”, as in, “There were lots of femmes there for the boys to dance with”

“Butch” has been used in American English to mean a tough, masculine man since the late 19th century; in the 1930s and 1940s it came to apply to a short masculine haircut, and shortly thereafter, a woman who wore such a haircut. It’s still used as a nickname for masculine cis guys–my godfather’s name is Martin, but his family calls him Butch. By the 1960s in Britain, “butch” was slang for the penetrating partner of a pair of gay men.

Butch/femme as a dichotomy for women arose specifically in the American lesbian bar scene around, enh, about the 1940s, to enh, about the 1960s. Closet-keys has a pretty extensive butch/femme history reader. This scene was predominantly working-class women, and many spaces in it were predominantly for women of colour. This was a time when “lesbian” literally meant anyone who identified as a woman, and who was sexually or romantically interested in other women. A lot of the women in these spaces were closeted in the rest of their lives, and outside of their safe spaces, they had to dress normatively, were financially dependent on husbands, etc. Both modern lesbians, and modern bisexual women, can see themselves represented in this historical period.

These spaces cross-pollinated heavily with ball culture and drag culture, and were largely about working-class POC creating spaces where they could explore different gender expressions, gender as a construct and a performance, and engage in a variety of relationships. Butch/femme was a binary, but it worked as well as most binaries to do with sex and gender do, which is to say, it broke down a lot, despite the best efforts of people to enforce it. It became used by people of many different genders and orientations whose common denominator was the need for safety and discretion. “Butch” and “femme” were words with meanings, not owners.

Lesbianism as distinct from bisexuality comes from the second wave of feminism, which began in, enh, the 1960s, until about, enh, maybe the 1980s, maybe never by the way Tumblr is going. “Radical” feminism means not just that this is a new and more exciting form of feminism compared to the early 20th century suffrage movement; as one self-identified radfem professor of mine liked to tell us every single lecture, it shares an etymology with the word “root”, meaning that sex discrimination is at the root of all oppression.

Radical feminism blossomed among college-educated women, which also meant, predominantly white, middle- or upper-class women whose first sexual encounters with women happened at elite all-girls schools or universities. Most of these women broke open the field of “women’s studies” and the leading lights of radical feminism often achieved careers as prominent scholars and tenured professors.

Radical feminism established itself as counter to “The Patriarchy”, and one of the things many early radfems believed was, all men were the enemy. All men perpetuated patriarchy and were damaging to women. So the logical decision was for women to withdraw from men in all manner and circumstances–financially, legally, politically, socially, and sexually. “Political lesbianism” wasn’t united by its sexual desire for women; many of its members were asexual, or heterosexual women who decided to live celibate lives. This was because associating with men in any form was essentially aiding and abetting the enemy.

Look, I’ll just literally quote Wikipedia quoting an influential early lesbian separatist/radical feminist commune: “The Furies recommended that Lesbian Separatists relate “only (with) women who cut their ties to male privilege” and suggest that “as long as women still benefit from heterosexuality, receive its privileges and security, they will at some point have to betray their sisters, especially Lesbian sisters who do not receive those benefits”“

This cross-pollinated with the average experience of WLW undergraduates, who were attending school at a time when women weren’t expected to have academic careers; college for women was primarily seen as a place to meet eligible men to eventually marry. So there were definitely women who had relationships with other women, but then, partly due to the pressure of economic reality and heteronormativity, married men. This led to the phrase LUG, or “lesbian until graduation”, which is the kind of thing that still got flung at me in the 00s as an openly bisexual undergrad. Calling someone a LUG was basically an invitation to fight.

The assumption was that women who marry men when they’re 22, or women who don’t stay in the feminist academic sphere, end up betraying their ideals and failing to have solidarity with their sisters. Which seriously erases the many contributions of bi, het, and ace women to feminism and queer liberation. For one, I want to point to Brenda Howard, the bisexual woman who worked to turn Pride from the spontaneous riots in 1969 to the nationwide organized protests and parades that began in 1970 and continue to this day. She spent the majority of her life to a male partner, but that didn’t diminish her contribution to the LGBT+ community.

Lesbian separatists, and radical feminists, hated Butch/Femme terminology. They felt it was a replication of unnecessarily heteronormative ideals. Butch/femme existed in an LGBT+ context, where gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people understood themselves to have more in common with each other than with, say, cis feminists who just hated men more than they loved women.

The other main stream of feminist thought at the time was Liberal Feminism, which was like, “What if we can change society without totally rejecting men?” and had prominent figures like Gloria Steinem, who ran Ms magazine. Even today, you’ll hear radfems railing against “libfems” and I’m like, my good women, liberal feminism got replaced thirty years ago. Please update your internal schema of “the enemy”

Lesbian separatism was… plagued by infighting. To maintain a “woman-only” space, they had to kick out trans women (thus, TERFs), women who slept with men (thus, biphobia), women who enjoyed kinky sex or pornography or engaged in sex work (thus, SWERFS) and they really struggled to raise their male children in a way that was… um… anti-oppressive. (I’m biased; I know people who were raised in lesbian separatist communes and did not have great childhoods.) At the same time, they had other members they very much wanted to keep, even though their behaviour deviated from the expected program, so you ended up with spectacles like Andrea Dworkin self-identifying as a lesbian despite being deeply in love with and married to a self-identified gay man for twenty years, despite beng famous for the theory that no woman could ever have consensual sex with a man, because all she could ever do was acquiesce to her own rape.

There’s a reason radical feminism stopped being a major part of the public discourse, and also a reason why it survives today: While its proponents became increasingly obsolete, they were respected scholars and tenured university professors. This meant people like Camille Paglia and Mary Daly, despite their transphobia and racism, were considered important people to read and guaranteed jobs educating young people who had probably just moved into a space where they could meet other LGBT people for the very first time. So a lot of modern LGBT people (including me) were educated by radical feminist professors or assigned radical feminist books to read in class.

The person I want to point to as a great exemplar is Alison Bechdel, a white woman who discovered she was a lesbian in college, was educated in the second-wave feminist tradition, but also identified as a butch and made art about the butch/femme dichotomy’s persistence and fluidity. You can see part of that tension in her comic; she knows the official lesbian establishment frowns on butch/femme divisions, but it’s relevant to her lived experience.

What actually replaced radical feminism was not liberal feminism, but intersectional feminism and the “Third Wave”. Black radical feminists, like Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, pointed out that many white radical feminists were ignoring race as a possible cause of oppression, and failing to notice how their experiences differed from Black womens’. Which led to a proliferation of feminists talking about other oppressions they faced: Disabled feminists, Latina feminists, queer feminists, working-class feminists. It became clear that even if you eliminated the gender binary from society, there was still a lot of bad shit that you had to unlearn–and also, a lot of oppression that still happened in lesbian separatist spaces.

I’ve talked before about how working in women-only second-wave spaces really destroyed my faith in them and reinforced my belief in intersectional feminism

Meanwhile, back in the broader queer community, “queer” stuck as a label because how people identified was really fluid. Part of it is that you learn by experience, and sometimes the only way to know if something works for you is to try it out, and part of it is that, as society changed, a lot more people became able to take on new identities without as much fear. So for example, you have people like Pat Califia, who identified as a lesbian in the 70s and 80s, found far more in common with gay leather daddies than sex-negative lesbians, and these days identifies as a bisexual trans man.

Another reason radical feminists hate the word “queer”, by the way, is queer theory, which wants to go beyond the concept of men oppressing women, or straights oppressing gays, but to question this entire system we’ve built, of sex, and gender, and orientation. It talks about “queering” things to mean “to deviate from heteronormativity” more than “to be homosexual”. A man who is married to a woman, who stays at home and raises their children while she works, is viewed as “queer” inasmuch as he deviates from heteronormativity, and is discriminated against for it.

So, I love queer theory, but I will agree that it can be infuriating to hear somebody say that as a single (cis het) man he is “queer” in the same way being a trans lesbian of colour is “queer”, and get very upset and precious about being told they’re not actually the same thing. I think that actually, “queer as a slur” originated as the kind of thing you want to scream when listening to too much academic bloviating, like, “This is a slur! Don’t reclaim it if it didn’t originally apply to you! It’s like poor white people trying to call themselves the n-word!” so you should make sure you are speaking about a group actually discriminated against before calling them “queer”. On the other hand, queer theory is where the theory of “toxic masculinity” came from and we realized that we don’t have to eliminate all men from the universe to reduce gender violence; if we actually pay attention to the pressures that make men so shitty, we can reduce or reverse-engineer them and encourage them to be better, less sexist, men.

But since radfems and queer theorists are basically mortal enemies in academia, radical feminists quite welcomed the “queer as a slur” phenomenon as a way to silence and exclude people they wanted silenced and excluded, because frankly until that came along they’ve been losing the culture wars.

This is kind of bad news for lesbians who just want to float off to a happy land of only loving women and not getting sexually harrassed by men. As it turns out, you can’t just turn on your lesbianism and opt out of living in society. Society will follow you wherever you go. If you want to end men saying gross things to lesbians, you can’t just defend lesbianism as meaning “don’t hit on me”; you have to end men saying gross things to all women, including bi and other queer women. And if you do want a lesbian-only space, you either have to accept that you will have to exclude and discriminate against some people, including members of your community whose identities or partners change in the future, or accept that the cost of not being a TERF and a biphobe is putting up with people in your space whose desires don’t always resemble yours.

Good god, this got extensive and I’ve been writing for two hours.

So here’s the other thing.

My girlfriend is a femme bi woman. She’s married to a man.

She’s also married to two women.

And dating a man.

And dating me (a woman).

When you throw monogamy out the window, it becomes EVEN MORE obvious that “being married to a man” does not exclude a woman from participation in the queer community as a queer woman, a woman whose presentation is relevant in WLW contexts. Like, this woman is in more relationships with women at the moment than some lesbians on this site have been in for their entire lives.

You can start out with really clear-cut ideas about “THIS is what my life is gonna be like” but then your best friend’s sexual orientation changes, or your lover starts to transition, and things in real life are so much messier than they look when you’re planning your future. It’s easy to be cruel, exclusionary, or dismissive to people you don’t know; it’s a lot harder when it’s people you have real relationships with.

And my married-to-a-man girlfriend? Uses “butch” and “femme” for reasons very relevant to her queerness and often fairly unique to femme bi women, like, “I was out with my husband and looking pretty femme, so I guess they didn’t clock me as a queer” or “I was the least butch person there, so they didn’t expect me to be the only one who uses power tools.” Being a femme bi woman is a lot about invisibility, which is worth talking about as a queer experience instead of being assumed to exclude us from the queer community.

#cherryhearrts #staranise original #answered asks #ranting in bisexual #lgbt discourse #terf shit #exclusionist shit #radfem shit #apologies to my girlfriend for not including carole queen in this post #she just didn't fit baby

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katiewattsart · 5 years ago

Text

29/10/19 : TEDDY BOYS. HAUL GIRLS. #1

What are they?

Teddy Boy: (in the 1950s) a young man of a subculture characterised by a style of dress based on Edwardian fashion (typically with drainpipe trousers, bootlace tie, and hair slicked up in a quiff) and a liking for rock-and-roll music.

Haul Girl: A girl or women who makes a haul video.

The revolution will not be televised.

youtube

The tv shows you what it wants to show you.

Television tells us what the people who run the TV stations want us to know. But social media today sometimes provides an alternative.

Subculture - Under/Beneath

We are looking today at youth and subcultures… their historicity and their contexts, and where we are with what might be called subcultures and youth cultures today.

GUIDE TO THE CULTS

A genuine piece from the mirror in the 1980s.

youtube

Sex Pistols : This is one of the most infamous moments on television. Today it seems tame, but in 1976 this was enough to get the presenter fired.

Like Duchamp's 'ready mades' - manufactured objects which qualified as art because he chose to call them such, the most unremarkable and inappropriate items - a pin, a plastic clothes peg, a television component, a razor blade, a tampon - could be brought within the province of punk (un)fashion...

Dick Hebdige - Subculture: The Meaning of Style

Hebdige’s book has long been consider the authorative text on subculture.

In the book he discusses the ready made aesthetics of punk. Punk was the first reaction to the developing politics of Thatcher and Reagan… here a refusal to take part in business as normal led to music that sounded amateur and fresh… the opposite of the progressive rock that had dominated the mid 1970s and early 80′s.

Vivienne Westwood

Objects borrowed from the most sordid of contexts found a place in punks' ensembles; lavatory chains were draped in graceful arcs across chests in plastic bin liners. Safety pins were taken out of their domestic 'utility' context and worn as gruesome ornaments through the cheek, ear or lip...fragments of school uniform (white bri-nylon shirts, school ties) were symbolically defiled (the shirts covered in graffiti, or fake blood; the ties left undone) and juxtaposed against leather drains or shocking pink mohair tops.

Jamie Red and others made zines that could be assembled in this same way, collaging and making work that felt it could have been made in the house, and often was.

Subcultures

Subcultures are tribal, bringing people together to form loose relations outside of the mainstream.

Different subcultures:

Even subcultures have subcultures… specific types of goth (steampunk, lolita) rude boys, K Pop sub genres, grunge punk rock etc

Once about a specific youth culture movement based around the disco music of the 1970s, clubbing subculture developed into rave culture in the late 80s and 90s, and has become a mainstream movement in the last few years.

Fiorucci Made Me Hardcore, Mark Leckey, 1999

youtube

“Something as trite and throwaway and exploitative as a jeans manufacturer can be taken by a group of people and made into something totemic, and powerful, and life-affirming.”

Subcultures are about a sense of belonging, often to people who feel excluded or disenfranchised from the mainstream.

youtube

Cosplay - form of subculture

The Joker and Harlequin are both characters who live for misrule, and both of them come from characters in the commedia dell’arte.

Harlequin relates directly to Harley Quinn… the Lord of Misrule was the peasant who was given the task of making sure that Xmas revellers got very drunk and very naughty.

The World Turned Upside Down

These characters link back to the ideas of the carnival, a time when the world was turned upside down. Christmas was initialy this kind of festival. People didn’t know if they would make it through the winter, so they made merry whilst they could. In the carnival Kings become Jokers, Jokers became kings.

Carnival extracts all individuals from non-carnival life, non-carnival states and because there are no hierarchical positions during carnival, ideologies which manifest the mind of individuals cannot exist.

...And finally in a few relatively rare instances, we find an extreme form of revelry in which the participants play-act at being precisely the opposite of what they really are; men act as women, women as men, kings as beggars, servants as masters, acolytes as bishops. In such situations of true orgy, normal life is played in all manners of sins such as incest, adultery, transvestitism, sacri- lege, and lese-majeste treated as the order of the day...

Edmund R. Leach, Rethinking Anthropology

In Rabelais and His World (1965), Mikhail Bakhtin likens the carnivalesque to the type of activity that often takes place in the carnivals of popular culture. In the carnival, according to Bakhtin, social hierarchies of everyday life—their etiquettes, and normal structures—are turned on their head.

Court jesters become kings, kings become beggars; opposites are mingled (fact and fantasy, heaven and hell).

Drag Cultures

Much in the same way that Madonna, undeniable icon though she is, in no way invented voguing, neither did the queens on RuPaul’s Drag Race invent the concept of "shade", "realness" or any of the other essential sayings liberally adopted wholesale by the internet. But what the show has done is continually provide a potted queer history. Whether it’s through highlighting ball culture, trans activism, gender fluidity, or queens like the legendary Lady Bunny; or simply by allowing the contestants to talk about their lived experience, the show has put an all too rare slice of gay and trans history in American (and the world’s) living rooms and laptops.

Drag Race has brought a subculture into the mainstream. It has brought secret languages into modern parlay.

From RuPaul raising a pair of opera glasses to say archly, “I can’t wait to see how this pans out”, to season four queen Latrice Royale’s “the shaaaaade of it all”, social media’s gif game has been vastly bolstered by nine seasons of this show. A gif reaction needs to encapsulate maximum emotion, drama, and appearance – and the queens on Drag Race have all three in spades. Tumblr couldn’t create gifs fast enough in the early seasons, and the joy of so many strong characters, and sound-bites, means that there is a reaction for absolutely every occasion. Season 6 winner Bianca Del Rio named one of her world tours after her own much-gif’d catchphrase, “Not today Satan”.

Memes and online culture have helped the show become part of the everyday.

Historically, "sissy" has been used as an insult against feminine-seeming men. Ru-Paul’s Drag Race not only reclaims the word – “now sissy that walk” is the phrase said at the top of each catwalk, usually preceding a demonstration of almost gob-smacking creativity – but shows that adopting a truly feminine character requires massive amounts of charisma and self-confidence. The show is wildly popular with women, not simply because of the incredible looks and transformations served by each queen, but because it is a celebration of feminine mystique in all its forms.

It has helped reclaim a sense of agency in an era of toxic masculinity.

The little show that could has turned into a global behemoth, with tours around the world each year, and an annual convention in Los Angeles. Last year, a second US convention launched in New York, while London hosted the first European edition, DragWorld UK, which saw a number of the show’s queens and RuPaul’s right-hand judge, Michelle Visage, holding court. And as fabulous, glamorous and downright funny as the queens are, the real joy came from seeing the response of teenagers to meeting their idols. RuPaul and Visage are giving hope to lost kids around the world, whatever their gender, ethnic background or sexuality. By sharing their stories, the Drag Race contestants are giving comfort and inspiration to viewers, as well as swathes of entertainment.

The show has brought disenfranchised, often hidden cultures into the open. And given people something that not only entertains, but also empowers.

The difference between Drag Race US and Drag Race UK summed up in one perfect tweet…

With RuPaul’s Drag Race UK finally airing on both sides of the Atlantic Ocean, it’s got fans realising just how different the two editions of the show are… International fans were subjected to the colourful world of British slang and swear words, leaving dozens bemused about what exactly the UK queens are actually saying…. But in a viral tweet shared by one of the British queens, it’s managed to capture the crucial difference between the US and UK versions of Drag Race.

Sum Ting Wong shared a screenshot of a Facebook post that so beautifully sums up the two shows:

Pink News JOSH MILTON OCTOBER 8, 2019

Drag is culturally derived, and finds its forms based on local customs. In the UK drag has a relationship to Vaudeville and play, which means it does something different to the american show. It is less about the act of putting on a show, and more about the comedic, slightly catty relations that we have come to associate with saturday evening tv here in the UK.

But that doesn’t mean it is mean in itself… it still brings a subculture to a mainstream audience. Remember, if I talked about this with you in the 1990s, I would face prosecution under Section 28

"shall not intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality" or "promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship".

New Subcultures

‘It's hard not to be struck by the sensation that, emos and metalheads aside, what you might call the 20th-century idea of a youth subculture is now just outmoded. The internet doesn't spawn mass movements, bonded together by a shared taste in music, fashion and ownership of subcultural capital: it spawns brief, microcosmic ones.

In fact, the closest thing to the old model of a subculture I've come across is Helena and the haul girls. Their videos are about conspicuous consumption: a public display of their good taste, carefully assembled with precise attention to detail. When you put it like that they sound remarkably like mods.’

Alexis Petridis

Marie Antoinette, 2006 (Sofia Copolla)

youtube

#gcop200

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dangerouslyfantasticwizard · 5 years ago

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How am I feeling?

My relationship with mental health.

I wanted to pen a little something to help shine a light on the big messy swirl that is my mind.

I have been depressed for a number of years, clinically diagnosed in around 2009 but I can’t tell you when it really started, and I agree with the idiom “It never gets better, it just gets easier".

I have struggled on and off for as far back as I can remember, my parents divorce being a pivotal moment but only a small cog in the machine that ultimately lead me to here and now, sitting on the bathroom floor crying into some toilet roll because of the latest brick that was pulled out of the fresh mind-set that I was trying to build in my mind.

The second notable incident began in 2011, but he didn’t show himself until 2012.

Becoming a teenage parent is hard, and keeping another real life human alive is tough. Especially when you have a complicated relationship with the mother. We didn’t stay together for long after he was born, but we stayed close. It was a tough time for both of us and she was building on top of her own series of poor experiences that made her the person that she was. Neither of us had had it particularly easy, but she was dealt a hand worse than mine from the start.

This took its toll on my studies, as you can imagine, and I didn’t grade particularly highly at A Level. The combination of young child, my age and my poor grades formed a clear path for me. I was to go straight into work.

I juggled through various jobs, some much better than others, and did some pretty wonderful things. I was never truly happy in any one job and my home life never got any easier. The relationship that my sons mum and I had became increasingly difficult as we both tried to see other people and raise a child together as closely as we could. There were arguments, fights, slanging matches, I was banned from my sons 2nd birthday party, I collapsed in tears on multiple occasions and overall my life didn’t feel particularly worth it. I lost my friends, I rarely saw my family.

Don’t get me wrong, I love my son more than anything, but the situations I often found myself in because of the circumstances were not healthy places to be in.

I continued to jump through jobs building my skills and eventually settled into an industry I thought I liked. Until the stress made me ill.

My old friends reached out to me and I began being sociable again. That was quite an important thing for me as it helped me bounce back and had sounding boards to discuss my life with. Regaining my best friend from school was a real blessing. And then I gained a whole new group of friends scattered across the globe growing year on year, the Lost Legion. They have always been by my side in times of need and they are so precious to me.

So, I jump again from a job that makes me ill to a job that makes me regret waking up in the morning. I’ve never clock watched so much in my life. Thankfully it wasn’t long lived but during those 6 months there were many, many dramas involving my son and the circumstances around it.

Coparenting is hard and I believe that even people that praise us for our parenting style don’t quite understand what we go through. The relationships that have suffered because we try to do what’s best for our son are numerous. Coparenting for us is all about sharing parental responsibilities and acting as a family unit to show that our love for him overcomes any personal feelings we may have. This means that, ultimately, we have minor influences over each other’s lives. If we believe something is best for him we will work together to achieve it and sometimes that means making sacrifices and supporting each other. Two people with very poor mental health can lead to an element of “chipping in" when required to alleviate the pain that the person is dealing with. We both require parental getaways from time to time and we work to make it work.

This sometimes makes it difficult to hold down effective relationships as our partners feel they are being treated as second best to my ex. This couldn’t be further from the truth and maybe one day I will find a way to make them see. It's also something that I know will get easier as my son gets older. He's not far off 8 years old and it won't be too long before he can choose as and when he wants to see me and he can have jnout on how it all works.

Anyway, I jump around a bit further. At this particular point in the story I had remained single since the birth of my son. The loneliness wasn't easy at all. No matter how many friends or family members I surrounded myself with I still felt alone. Many questionable decisions were made including some that I am certainly not proud of. As you can probably imagine, this did not help the state of my mental health. Being alone is a dangerous feeling.

One thing I haven't covered is my confidence. As a natural born introvert I always struggled to make friends and express myself. This went hand in hand with the struggle that is being bisexual (biphobia is real and awful). I also enjoy make up, traditionally-female clothing and generally being a big queer. I was raised in a liberal family in a rather neglected bigotted environment so this was very very difficult to develop with and thus expressing myself was hard. Feelings had to be repressed from an early age and only recently have I felt more free to express them.

Skipping forwards to mid-2019. I had a job that I enjoy, a girlfriend that I adored that made me so unbelievably comfortable in my own skin. Everything was looking up. Until I received news that multiple very close members of my family had been diagnosed with cancer. Some of them are fine now, but there is a goodbye that I will have to bring myself to make in the very near future.

This caused my world to yet again come crashing down and begin a snowball that was only going to get bigger and bigger. My work studies are suffering, my social life is always hit and miss, my regular depression has moved out and the joy of SADs has moved in.

I am now single, facing a big family goodbye and so far behind in my work that I called my boss to apologise and broke down on the phone to her. All while doing my best to keep a smile for my son.

I don't want him to know that his daddy is falling apart.

Now, of course, I've skipped over many details and avoided particular mental breakdowns. Of course I still love my son and of course I utterly, desperately want my girlfriend back, and my finances are a horrific shambles for somebody that works in finance. But this isn't about any of that.

This post is about something else. Something that many people have done for me.

Checked in.

They've messaged me at night, and in the morning and at regular intervals to make sure that I don't make any foolish decisions.

I know what decision they're trying to avoid me taking, and I'd by lying if I said I hadn't thought about it, but that's not what I really want.

I've thought about taking my own life a few times since 2009, all for very different reasons. But I don't just want the pain to stop.

I want to live.

I want to grow old with somebody and watch my son live his dreams. I want to finish reading my books. I want to see how The Good Place ends. I want to see the people I love thrive.

Suicide isn't an option I have given myself. It's a locked door with no key. I'm far too curious as to what next year will bring to just end it all. Too many people I know have tried or have succeeded and I know the pain it causes.

So basically, I'll be fine, but I appreciate the concern.

I might update this post as I continue to explore my feelings, but here it is for now.

Things I haven't mentioned: Holding hands through miscarriages, other breakups, abuse, anorexia, anxiety attacks, other family issues etc.

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eatinsleepin · 6 years ago

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It is the biggest disappointment when you finally have the desire to do chores and then you actually can't. There is an actual, physical barrier between you and completion.

😵

For those who may not know (hello the entire world), I am not currently in steady work.

Slightly shameful plug: I am currently tutoring online, basically anything in liberal arts and the humanities as well as teaching English as a second language, but don't know how well that applies here... I do also promise I teach proper English, not es-English. Unless you want that. I can def teach SoCal-internet-slang-British-English mash-up nonsense.

But back to our regular programming.

I wake up today all ready to actually do stuff, since I'm trying to keep up the house while my boyfriend is working because, you know, fairness. Think "it isn't too hot yet, I'll do the yard." Pick up after my dog, get the brand new mower out, only used this baby once. Battery powered so no fiddling with long ass extension cords or killing both me and the planet with gas fumes. Although I don't actually know how this area creates electricity... I knew how my last place did it, but I could very well be burning fuel, just further away. Hmm. Problem for another day.

I made one pass, one little buzz, front to back in my stupid lawn and the mower dies.

Sooooooo here I am, back inside while the batteries charge. Will the rest of the yard get done? Only time will tell.

So, like, iunno.

I am just not set up for domestic life or the reno life. Or the job life, obvi. Is this the millennial life everyone keeps going on about? How I'm supposed to be lazy but a job-hopper and rich but poor and live with my parents until I'm 50 but buy a house in Nowhere, Wyoming because rates are so low and cities are so 2010 but cities are where it's at except tech is dying but only computers but web-based is booming?

I /endrant and /startrant in one post. Gold star for today.

#es is a grumpy old person #get off my lawn #unless your gonna mow it #where do people find the will for things

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skammovistarplus · 6 years ago

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Culture and Translation - S01E08

If you read all of this, congratulations. I think this is by far the longest culture and translation post I’ve done yet.

CLIP 1: Hit Me With Your Best Shot / One Way or Another

I didn’t get to this part last episode, but as some people have mentioned, Nora lives with her parents. Spanish grammar has a feature called “masculine generics.” I’ll quote Wikipedia: “Grammatical gender in Spanish refers to how Spanish nouns are categorized as either masculine (often ending in -o) or feminine (often ending in -a). As in other Romance languages—such as Portuguese, to which Spanish is very similar—a group of both males and females, or someone of unknown gender, is usually referred to by the masculine form of a nouns and or pronoun.” Because of this, we can infer that one of Nora’s parents is a man, but we don’t know whether the other parent is a man or a woman. Twitter likes the idea of making the Eskild expy her parent, and Linn his husband, but I don’t think it’s caught on in here.

Buah, ¿sabéis quién triunfó también en la fiesta? (“Hey, you know who also triumphed at the party?”): I have never seen “to triumph” being used this way in English, but that is the verb Amira uses and I really wanted to keep the idea of hooking up with people as a victory, something you win at.

Es que me parece súper fuerte, ¿no? (“I just think it’s too much, no?): “Fuerte” (literally “strong”) is Spanish slang for something that crosses a line or is “extra” in some way.

Hombre, pues no sé cómo lo veréis (“Man, I don’t know about you”): What Viri says would be literally translated as, “Man, I don’t know how you’re going to see it.”

Ya, y a ésta le van a llegar los cuernos hasta el techo del gimnasio (“Yeah, and the side girls are going to reach the gym ceiling all standing on top of each other”): Okay, so here is a line where I took liberties in order to get the most out of the line and the visual. In Spanish, when someone cheats on their significant other, we say that the person being cheated on has “cuernos” (horns) or is a “cornudo” (horned). So, Cris says that Cristian is cheating on Lara so often and so much that her horns are going to grow as high as to reach the gym ceiling. In English, the closest translation is “cuckold,” which comes from the Old French word for the cuckoo bird. Since I couldn’t work with the actual translation, I reworked the line to say that the side girls could reach the gym ceiling if they stood on top of each other. Sort of like that factoid that says if we stacked every human up on one another, we’d be 1/4th of the way to Venus.

I think Nora means that it’s better if she doesn’t flash a UV light over her room, but it’s not clear in Spanish either.

I really can’t remember whether we ever played dodgeball in high school P.E., but the whole premise just sounds like a pair of broken glasses waiting to happen.

CLIP 2: Skam España didn’t come to play

Fun fact: like Lucas, I hadn’t had anything to eat all day when this clip dropped, and a kebab sounded amazing, lol. Another fun fact! When I realized what Lucas was doing, I had to stop the clip and take like 5 minutes to regroup, I was that shook. I was really late recapping this clip on Twitter because I couldn’t deal with the enormity of it all.

Mis padres se pelean como cada mes, mes y medio (“My parents fight every four to six weeks”): Lucas says, “every month, month and a half.” “4 to 6 weeks” was shorter and, I felt, closer to the way English speakers talk about time. But really, Skam España is basically hell to sub because they talk quicker than any other Skam, including the French. If a sentence can be made shorter, but still keep the exact same meaning, we as a team feel blessed, lol.

Just in case it wasn’t immediately obvious, they literally just bought the kebabs and Eva didn’t spend the whole morning fixing them. And, also, that Lucas comes out to Eva over kebabs is an intentional homage to the og. In fact, in Spain, we eat kebabs like sandwiches, we don’t pick at them with forks/tongs, so Lucas and Eva are eating them like Jonas and Isak did.

I thought this would be as good a place as any to link to the Wikipedia article on LGBT rights in Spain. I’ll quote from the article: “Spain has been recognised as one of the most culturally liberal and LGBT-friendly countries in the world and LGBT culture has had a significant role in Spanish literature, music, cinema and other forms of entertainment as well as social issues and politics. Public opinion on homosexuality is noted by pollsters as being overwhelmingly positive, with a recent study conducted by Pew Research Center in 2013 indicating that more than 88 percent of Spanish citizens accept homosexuality, making it the most LGBT-friendly of the 39 countries Pew polled. LGBT visibility has also increased in several layers of society such as the Guardia Civil, army, judicial, and clergy. However, in other areas such as sports, the LGBT community remains marginalised. Spanish film directors such as Pedro Almodóvar have increased awareness regarding LGBT tolerance in Spain among international audiences. In 2007, Madrid hosted the annual Europride celebration and hosted World Pride in 2017. The cities of Madrid and Barcelona also have a reputation as two of the most LGBT-friendly cities in the world. Gran Canaria is also known worldwide as an LGBT tourist destination.”

CLIP 3: Making his way downtown

Tampoco es para tanto (“it’s not that serious”): Another translation would be, “it’s not as bad as all that.” I think the line I went with was clearer and more specific.

Yo creo que ha mejorado (“I think it looks better”): Eva says, “I think it’s gotten better,” but I reworked it. Lol sometimes I wonder if people read these and wonder why I just do whatever the fuck I like, but I promise I try to stick to what sounds more natural to me in English.

Te está durando mucho (“It’s taking too long to heal”): Cris actually says that the cold sore is lasting too long (presumably lasting too long on Viri’s face, lol).

Okay, so my experience with Spanish guys is that they initiate cunnilingus on their own and without prodding (i.e. will eat girls out), in the hopes that the woman will return the favor. I have surveyed my friends and they have reported similar experiences. Girls have said that guys have never not gone down on them, and guys have reported having no issues doing it. Og Skam actually backs me up, as Chris says that a guy did it to her, once, in Gran Canaria. So, while the girls are pleased for Viri that Alejandro went down on her, they’re not about to give him the King of the School slo-mo treatment Jonas received for doing the same. (I do have to note that the girls were impressed that Jonas not only went down on an older girl, but that he actually got her to come with oral only.) Given what we later learn about Viri and Alejandro’s encounter, I’d bet money on Alejandro hoping Viri would take the hint and suck him off in return, but since she doesn’t mention doing so, I think she just didn’t.

I think Viri did allow Alejandro to go down on her when his cold sore was already visible, and I’m legit appalled, tbh.

I learned of the Callao youth center through Skam España, because I’ve never needed to go. That said, it is a real youth center and they were pleased and touched about being featured on the show. Honestly, if even one teenager in need learned of their services through the show, I’ll consider Skam España a resounding success.

I love that Amira has seemingly gone with Cris to that youth center sometime before the show. Tangent, but I love the way the Amira/Cris friendship (and relationship, if you wanted to read into them that way) has been developed through the season. I remember having discussions early in the season about why Cris would join the losers, when Viri referred to her as “that pretty girl over there” and Cris was surrounded by a group of people when she was first introduced. In my opinion, Amira and Cris are best friends, and before the girl squad, everyone else was just along for the ride. But I’m looking forward to what we could learn about Amira and Cris’ friendship (and relationship) in further seasons.

CLIP 4: 8 Simple Rules for Dating my Spanish Daughter

Dating in Spain! The concept of “a date” exists in Spain, it’s called “una cita.” But we rarely, if ever, use this word. In fact, I don’t think it’s been used at all through the season. What we do is “quedar,” i.e. arrange to meet at a specific place and time. But it’s important to note that you can “quedar” with your friends, a hookup or a boyfriend/girlfriend. Since this arrangement isn’t exclusive to romantic relationships, I’ve translated it as “hanging out.” Again, the word “cita” (date) exists in Spanish, so if it’s ever used, I want to make sure it has the proper impact for the audience. Other dating vocab:

“Salir juntos” (to go out together): If two people “salen juntos,” they’re a couple.

“Salir conmigo” (to go out with me): If you ask someone to “sal conmigo,” you’re asking them to hang out as a couple.

“¿Quieres ser mi novio/novia?” (Do you want to be my boyfriend/girlfriend?): This is how you’d make a relationship official, beyond just arranging to hook up.

Pillado (“hung up on her”): Lit. “caught.”

Cris says “bye!” in English. Jorge then says, “Really?”

Y parecía tonto (“And he seemed dumb”): This is a truncated, common Spanish idiom. The full idiom is, “y parecía tonto cuando lo compramos” (and he seemed dumb when we bought him). It is used when a person who is frequently timid or a wallflower does something assertive or takes charge.

Pero que andar quedando es de novios (“but that to have standing dates is a couple thing”): As I mentioned earlier, we don’t use the word “cita” all that often, and, as Hugo tells it, Cris didn’t use it to turn him down. Here’s what Cris meant: Cris thinks she and Hugo had a good time at Nora’s party, but she doesn’t want to make a thing out of it. She doesn’t want to hang out one-on-one. That includes hanging out together at each other’s houses, like Eva and Jorge sometimes do, or go do something together, like going to the movies or to get something to eat.

A veces Cris se pasa un poco de directa (“sometimes Cris is a bit savage”): I reworked this because “directa” means “straight-forward,” but “se pasa” is slangy. “Se pasa” would mean “to go too far,” so a literal translation would be, “sometimes Cris goes a little too far with the straight-forwardness.”

A mí me parece guay que haya ido con la verdad por delante (“I think it’s cool she was straight up”): Okay, so the literal translation is, “I think it’s cool she was honest upfront.” But… It’s Jorge. He’s the Jonas expy. And I just could not and didn’t want not to use “straight up,” i.e. Jonas’ catchphrase.

El sábado ¡a las nueve, tío! (“Saturday… at 9pm, dude!”): This is another underrated moment. I don’t know if people remember, but Jorge’s excuse for not attending Nora’s party was that he was playing football at 9pm on a Saturday. Here he actually gets a text to play a game at 9pm on a Saturday, and he’s like, “who the fuck are these people?”

As I explained on Twitter at the time, Jorge mimics calling the cops over Eva being hungry. The joke is that Jorge would consider it an emergency that necessitates police involvement. This is a really common (and corny, natch) joke in Spain. We’re very dramatic, so obviously any situation, no matter how mundane, is on the verge of needing police intervention.

We all know that when Jorge asked Eva what she wanted to eat, her answer was pizza. Right? Just checking we’re all on the same page.

CLIP 5: Vaginas and languages

Note about the message in Arabic: I was the one who originated the translation, after I asked a Middle Eastern friend if she could translate it for me. She translated the note as saying, “Equality between women and men – Rashid Alfadhili.” I thought it might be a direct quote from a writer or an activist, but if you search for the name online, all the references are to my Twitter. So, who is the mysterious Rashid Alfadhili?

The obgyn is singing Havana D’Primera’s Me dicen Cuba. The actor is indeed Cuban, and the character speaks in a noticeable Cuban accent.

If you have further questions about The Herpes Thing, I reblogged a post by @niteskycs and added my own commentary, including quotes from this scene.

There’s one more thing I want to mention wrt candidiasis/thrush/yeast infection. Candidiasis is an opportunistic infection and so, it’s an infection that takes advantage of an opportunity not normally available, such as a host with a weakened immune system. Because of this, and before antiretroviral drugs, people with AIDS often suffered from candidiasis and could die from it. Thus, it is notable that the obgyn thinks Viri may have candidiasis (which, again, gets ruled out). It makes it really obvious that he suspects Viri’s actual problem might be that she has a weakened immune system.

If you have further questions or commentary about this scene, feel free to hit up my inbox, reblog, reply, etc.

The positions of the girls behind Viri are a reference to og Skam.

CLIP 6: It always comes back to dicks

Cris is playing a game which consists of pulling the tab on a can back and forth as she recites the alphabet, until the tab breaks apart. The letter that she was saying out loud when the tab broke apart is the initial of her crush/loved one/person she’s fated to be with. Which in this case is H!

Alguien que haga que, sabes, te entre aquí una cosilla en el estómago (“someone who makes it so… you know, that makes you feel butterflies in your stomach”): The literal translation is, “someone who, you know, makes you feel a little thing in your stomach,” but Eva is referring to the “butterflies in your stomach” metaphor. The metaphor exists in Spanish as well (that’s what Bely Basarte’s Mariposas is about), but I think it’s been adopted after the English idiom became well-known in Spanish.

Un gilipollas integral (“an unadulterated asshole”): Viri says “integral,” which is a word we’d normally use to refer, like, to whole-grain bread or rice. While I think Viri calling Alejandro a “whole-grain asshole” would’ve been hilarious, I thought “unadulterated” would also be just as funny. As in, Alejandro’s assholishness has not been contaminated with any niceness. He’s 100% pure asshole.

Unos colegas y yo hemos alquilado un local (“Some buddies and I have rented a place”): This is a very Spanish way of putting things, I think. “Un local” is basically any business premises or shop unit (such as, for instance, at a mall). It can be as sparse as four walls and a water outlet, or a fully furnished club, or even factory premises on the outskirts of a city. Alejandro wasn’t very forthcoming with details, so I wasn’t sure what to expect from the “local” when this clip dropped. But, we’ve since come to learn that, in the universe of Skam España, there’s a Kose Club, which can be rented for private parties. And this is the place Alejandro and his buddies rented.

Capullo (“Prick”): “Capullo” is yet another word for penis. Its non-penis meaning is “flower bud” and, when talking about dicks, makes reference to the head of the penis. “Capullo,” in the dick sense, is pejorative.

CLIP 7: Doing recon

I’m assuming that, for this specific party, Alejandro and his buddies hired people who would serve alcohol to minors. Or just had some friends play the part of bartenders unofficially. Because this is some illegal ass shit.

De puta madre / De fruta madre (“That’s fucking great” / “That’s ducking great”): It looks as if Amira has renounced swearing, as well. I seem to recall that Sana Bakkoush would swear, but I can’t think of any example off the top of my head. Anyway, Amira accidentally swears when she compliments Cris’ pumpkin accessory. The girls call her on it, and she says a clean version. I’ve seen it subbed as “fruiting great,” which is the literal translation (“fruta” is fruit), but I looked into the ways Americans censor their speech, and went with “ducking,” myself.

Either way, I was really proud of myself when this clip dropped. There were several instances where I could’ve gone for a swear word while subbing Amira, but I had the feeling the character was intentionally keeping it clean. It felt great to have that feeling confirmed within the show.

Edward Scissorhands is really iconic, but Sweeney Todd came out in 2007. And, you know, it’s Tim Burton, not Benh Zeitlin. Hardly an obscure director. I guess Johnny Depp as Ichabod Crane wasn’t specific enough?

Is one of the second years dressed as Inu Yasha, or is it just me?

Que son súper chungas (“those girls are bad news”): I’d say “chunga” is most closely translated as being “ghetto.” These girls are bad news, girls you don’t want to fuck with, because they will fuck back with you ten times as hard. You know how in 90s sitcoms there are always older girls hanging in the school bathrooms teaching the underclasswomen to smoke? A girl who is “chunga” is that older girl.

Putivuelta (“slut round”): I’m pretty sure the concept doesn’t exist in English and, if it does, I haven’t come across it yet. When you arrive at a club, you and your friends check out the whole place, scoping out hot singles. As far as I’m aware, “putivueltas” are only ever performed by women and queer men, and the targets can be of any gender. I’m sure straight dudes have a name for what is essentially scoping out the place for chicks to hit on, but straight Spanish men, at least, do not call it “putivueltas.”

Uh, what is that awkward Hugo and Amira’s conversation about? Amira lets Hugo know that Cris is scoping out the place for singles, so she’s both letting him know Cris will be back and that Cris has moved on from Hugo onto newer pursuits. And then there’s a medium close up on Amira’s expression, and she looks Over It. Is Amira jealous of Cris because she wants Hugo? Or jealous of Hugo because she wants to be able to pine for Cris openly??????? (By the way, I assume saying “slut round” doesn’t count as swearing, Amira?)

The song in this clip is Brisa Fenoy’s Free. Brisa Fenoy also wrote Lo Malo, which the characters make references to and eventually shows up later in the season. Here’s Free, in English:

Baby, I am free I am free

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything

Without additives Without artificial flavoring, without lies Without regrets Without giving everything and lose it afterwards Without baggage to travel lighter

Without terms that put a brake in my progress Without modifying us with so much augmentation Let’s be flesh and bone people With a lot of virtues and few flaws

Let’s get together already Through transformation we have to demolish What we were will last me the day before The future is today, what are you going to be?

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything

Without tricks like those that hurt us Without losing those pounds that fool us My body is mine, and if I want I eat what I like, I’m the one in charge

We’re what we do to change what we are No more sexism, together with each other We’re not sex symbols, there’s a bit of everything here Let’s be so authentic that they can’t prevail over us

Respect and freedom We have to demand it Let’s be a unit They won’t be able to create us Respect and freedom We have to demand it Let’s be a unit They won’t be able to shut us up

Baby, I am free I’m ready for me I go out in what I want to go out I’m better without you I like everything about me

Respect and freedom We have to demand it They won’t be able to shut us up

Here and now let’s all shout Baby I am free

CLIP 8: Moments before tragedy strikes

Si nos hubieran cobrado la entrada, se hubieran sacado un pastizal (“if they charged for admission, they’d have made out like bandits”): The literal translation would be, “If they’d charged us for admission, they’d have made a pasture.” Much like in English, you can say “dough” to refer to money, in Spain you can say “pasta” to do the same. A “pastizal” is a word with its own meaning (“pasture”), but it sounds like it could be large amounts of “pasta.”

Satanasa (“Lady Satan”): What Amira says can be literally translated as “Lady Satan.” I’ve never it before, but I think she’s going for a Halloween version of “Cheese!” 😂

Se le ha ido la pinza a Lara (“Lara lost her mind”): This idiom, which Jorge used all the way back in episode 1 to say something slipped off his mind, can also mean that Lara just lost her shit entirely!

It’s worth noting that the song playing when Lara slaps Eva, is actually playing in Eva’s mind. As you can see if you check the social media for the episode, Post Malone’s Better Now is still playing when Lara is pulled back from Eva. Here are the lyrics for the song playing in Eva’s mind (Jorge Marazu’s Simulacro), in English:

If this was a drill I bought it to the end It’s not going to be cheap to climb back up I have lost the measure And even though I had a taste I forget it’s a two-way street

The star lights went out Their circuit breaker tripped It hasn’t stopped snowing all day And even though they’re hurt My hopes and dreams I forget it’s a two-way street

The whims that get in the way Of instinct and reason, don’t know a goodbye without pain

Let’s not wait until tomorrow I wish you the best Now we’re getting to the end…

Social media:

This episode had a lot of references to og Skam. I’ve noted the references in the clips where they happened. There were also references to og Skam on social media though. Most notably, the club where Alejandro hosts the Halloween party is called Kose Club, after Kosegruppe. Die Antwoord’s Baby on Fire, which is the song that plays when Iben’s squad fights the girl squad, is playing on the background of a couple ig stories.

It took me a while to notice that the kitty in the background of Cris’ pics switches from being Viri, to the second year girl Cris hooks up with.

Other:

Halloween has only become a thing in Spain in recent times, and mostly as an excuse for young people to host parties or clubs to host Halloween-themed nights. Kids don’t go trick and treating, although their parents may buy them Halloween-themed candy in grocery stores. As such, I’m not too bothered about Alejandro hosting a Halloween party in Saturday.

That said, if he wanted to host the party on Halloween proper, he could’ve done so. The 1st of November is a national holiday, All Saints’ Day. Traditionally, religious people visit family graves on this day, and leave flowers or candles. Since the 1st of November fell on a Thursday, schools were also out on Friday.

#culture and translation #skam españa #skam spain #skamesp #skames

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inimene-skates · 6 years ago

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Kodu [DenEst fanfiction]

Summary: Tallinn, the 1990s. The first foreigners come to Estonia that has recently freed itself from the Soviet terrors. Mathias Kohler becomes one of those daring people while seeking inspiration for his book. Thrilled to find out more about Estonian punk culture, he stumbles upon one of its particularly interesting subjects named Eduard. What follows next is a story about trust and freedom, revolution and philosophy, love and culture. A story about the land where they found kodu – a home.

Link to AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15094802

Notes: After my rather prolonged hiatus I finally came up with something decent. I believe this world needs more DenEst since this rarepair is absolutely stunning. All the events in the fic are a mere fruit of my imagination; however, it is based on the events that really took place in the 1990s: the times when the USSR dissolved and Estonia regained its independence. At the time, the punk culture in Estonia was particularly popular.

I have previously posted this fic in its original language (Russian) here: https://ficbook.net/readfic/6731059

The main inspiration of the work comes from a song of the famous Estonian singer Ott Lepland "Kodu", you can listen to it here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mbyOx-1AGNg

There’s a lot of Estonian slang used in this story so please refer to the notes for translations. ___________________ Ma ei oska vene keelt — I don't speak Russian Tõmba nahhui, idikas! — fuck off you idiot Ime lahti! — same as previous Oota — wait Putsi — Estonians would use this word to curse if/when something goes wrong Vend — dude Lilla (also: pede) — fag Keppi mind — fuck me Mida sa tegid? — what have you done? Mul on nii kahju — I am very sorry

Also, I tried to illustrate punk Eduard for you so take a look for a better reading experience! Enjoy!

_____________________________________

Mathias first saw him by Kadriorg. He was the one who the Dane caught his sight of from all six members of that frenziedly formed circle. Mathias could not be sure exactly why: perhaps, it was his hair with its part being tousled up and dyed unbelievably intense, almost acidic, pink, and making him look head up taller than the rest of the gang, even though, in reality, he appeared a rather short person. Perhaps, it was all a cocky look he gave the Dane with his mesmerizing eyes of cornflower color boldly fetched out by what seemed to be poorly blended blackish eye pencil. Or, perhaps, the reason could be the way he stood up front deeply inhaling the smoke of his self-made joint as Mathias approached him.

One way or another, Mathias knew for sure it is this fascinating man who would become the main focus of his next improvised interview.

“Tõmba nahhui, idikas!” One of the fellows standing straight behind the subject of Mathias’ attention and whose forehead was crossed over by an apparently fresh wound decided to move forward with an uncovered attack on a stranger. Mathias could not blame him. In Estonia, the land that tried to make it through the quite tough times, people like him, that is to say, people devoted to the punk culture could only hope for a better perception of their selves. That involved, for a kickoff, a better understanding of the origins and existence of their culture and, ideally, less or no condemnation of the bad habits that most of the punks had, according to the public.

In any case, Mathias knew he did not make any mistake by having chosen him. It seemed to him that the young Estonian himself was the leader of that offhand punk gang judging by how daringly he rebuffed his fellow gang mate with a clear and abrupt ‘oota!’. His frown vanished freeing space for a spark of interest. Hoary smoke disappeared into the soft blow of the April wind, not freezing yet not too warm. He was looking at Mathias and his astonishingly vibrant eyes revealed emotions rather opposite to the light dimming inside his body. To Mathias, it seemed like the tragic but, nevertheless, stunning fate of the Estonian folk itself was reflecting in the eyes of this young man.

“Ma ei oska vene keelt,” The Estonian breathed into the air thickened by the cigarette smoke and locked his eyes with the stranger. Mathias gave him a smile getting his message. In the scope of the latest events, he could not even ask for the opposite.

“Ma ei oska ka vene keelt.” The Dane felt that his Estonian language skills had just reached their limit. “English?”

Someone in this incredible company seemed to have started to be running out of patience. Someone else pocked the leader in his shoulder but he shrugged it off making it clear that the next poke would cost his fellow not a mere shrug but a punch. With the back of the hand. There was someone who smirked and spit on the gravel-inlaid road.

“No English, vend.” Here is where Mathias started losing his hope in the abyss of the language barrier. Up to the point when the Estonian himself restored it by giving it a chance to exist with a soft but clear, “Aber ich kann Deutsch sprechen.”

Mathias’ lips stretched in a wide smile of relief. He knew they would make it work from that time on.

***

Only two things in this world could Mathias not stand – being bound to one place and the lack of inspiration. The prior was pretty hard to live with yet easy to handle. At least, for the man that made a living from writing articles for an independent publisher, finding himself in different points in the world to seek unconditional and outstanding events was quite a regular thing – later on, Mathias used them as sources for the new pieces of word art. He could not say that such activity earned him a fortune though; it happened to be just enough to make ends meet. Not that Mathias longed for more. Most of his time he spent outside the walls of his tiny apartment in Aarhus and in times of inspiration did not care much for a place to sleep or the food offered to him but was thrilled by a single fact of being somewhere new and uncharted. In the end, his every little adventure ended up with a new article sent to the publisher for editing – and off he went again as he found himself at the starting point of a circle of his life.

The inspiration was a completely opposite problem. Especially in the recent times. Although the nineties, the times of drastic changes in the unstable world, gave practically endless room for seeking inspiration, Mathias could not find a single place to plant his seed of creation. Everyone around him was making too much noise about the fall of the iron curtain and the collapse of the entire (post) Soviet bloc. But the Dane found it absolutely boring.

This was how Mathias ended up in Estonia. While the rest of the First World was enjoying the comfort and coziness of their apartments reaping the benefits of the post-industrial society and shaking their heads in disapproval of what was going on beyond the borders of the former Land of the Soviets, Mathias had got enough of this worthless pleasure. The decision was made out of the blue. The Dane visited his office the same day letting the boss know with undoubted valor that he was going to chase an ultimate breakthrough in the art of periodical writing in liberated Estonia.

So here he was, standing in the middle of a paved street road having his light scarf wrapped around his neck and put on the variety of decent tourist equipment: a backpack full of snacks and items he did not even recall, a fresh t-shirt, a new coat and a map with a proud ‘Tallinn’ printed at its top. However, this is where the tourist image of the young Dane came to its limits. Tourism as such was the last thing he sought in this cold land not yet recovered from the terrors of the last fifty years.

Mathias knew exactly what he sought. He sought people that were deemed yet not threatening but rather isolated. The young men wearing high boots and creating colorful masterpieces, that could easily beat up the most professional barbers in the art of hair styling, out of their hair. The young ladies changing the ‘right’ and ‘socially acceptable’ garments for the ultra-short skirts and combing their hair up in the chaotic shape to the point when even the strongest storm could not bother their cocky looks. People that could spit on the ground with no back thinking and drink themselves until they dropped in public, not really caring for anything anyone could say and leaving their feelings and thoughts live within the community of their own where no outsider was ever welcome.

Mathias sought them, the people with no right to be spoken of. The free folk of free Estonia, the folk that the rest of the society called punk, somewhat with disgust, somewhat with generalization. Mathias could not find peace unless he told their story to the world, the story shaped by historical, social and political events that had no equivalent anywhere else on Earth.

And so he went along the streets of Tallinn gathering the tiny pieces of the Estonian punk culture found in the words and faces of those who cherished it and allowed the Dane to take a grasp of it as of their souls and cores. Just when Mathias thought his journey was complete, he met Eduard. And oh, he proved the Dane wrong.

***

“Over here, vend!” A loud voice made Mathias almost let go of his camera, not because of the shock, though. It was more because of how familiar the voice seemed to him, that mellow, somewhat leisurely but also daring voice speaking German with a particular Estonian accent. “Out there, you hear me, vend? Putsi...” said the voice once again and the Dane looked back facing its source. Literally.

It was not the first time he and Eduard met by the Viru Gates. At first, he did not even hope for The Estonian’s consent to come and keep his promise to Mathias. However, here he was. He came to the spot every single day, first bringing some of his fellow friends along who had absolutely no command of German and therefore could not grasp the idea of the talks Eduard and Mathias shared. Soon enough Eduard found the presence of the gang members rather useless and started coming to their ‘usual spot’ by himself. Frankly speaking, Mathias was thankful for the opportunity to have conversations without the presence of any third parties around.

The reason for such an attitude was not really the fact Eduard’s pals did not give Mathias the same inspiration as Eduard himself.

Eduard was not tall. In fact, his height made the Dane look down at him every time they spoke. He was shameless, too. Although his voice revealed no impudence, it did not take the credit off his shamelessness. He was cold as the ice on the Tallinn roads when winter decided to remind the country of its long presence with the snowfall: it did not last long having melted in the early spring sun but as the twilight fell the puddles got deeply frozen causing Eduard to swear in his own language, totally incomprehensive for the Dane yet warm and sweet as latte in the cafe next to the Freedom Square. He was as plain as the rest of one million people forming the population of Estonia. Being one of them but also incredibly different from them, he left no room for comparison, the reason being hidden somewhere in the depth of his cornflower eyes dimmed with black makeup. He was conditional like apartment blocks of Tallinn’s Uus Linn, the New Town, reflecting in the lenses of his glasses yet careless and vibrant like the medieval houses of Vanalinn, the Old Town. Eduard smelled of salt of the Gulf of Finland that washed Tallinn’s shores and sweetness of infamous ginger caramel walnuts spreading the sugary smell all over the Old Town.

Someone might say he was perfect. Flawless. At a time, he was a mere Estonian guy, though, piercing Mathias with his cocky Estonian look and dictating him the rules of this cold land. Mathias did not mind. That was the reason he came here, after all.

This time the way led them to the park bench next to the Orthodox church at Toompea hills where the Dane, slightly amused, was observing Eduard drink out of the beer bottle and catching glimpses of every single passerby. At a certain point, Mathias even thought that he himself became a target for a part of those glances. However, The Estonian could not care less.

“How come you speak such perfect German?” Mathias broke the silence but Eduard did not seem to mind at all.

“My full name is Eduard von Bock,” he said watching his favorite beverage splash behind the dark green glass.

“Does not sound Estonian at all.”

“I come from the Baltic Germans folk. Well, half of me does. Not many of ‘em decided to stay after the occupation. The major part was returned to Germany by the Nazis. Back to the land of fathers where they were said they belonged.” Eduard slipped the glasses back onto the nose bridge where they also belonged. “But not my- what’s the word?” he cut the phrase short trying to remember the correct German word, “Ancestors. We all speak German. To not, like, forget our family roots or something. I don’t give a fuck about the roots, frankly. At least I can speak to you now. More or less a reason to have learned it.”

All this time the Dane was silently scrubbing the pages of his rather old but nevertheless priceless notebook with the tip of the pen. This is how the notes taken in this book usually turned into profound articles. His job was not to judge – he was there to listen, to comprehend, to write things down, to live them though and then to share them with the world. Judgment, in its purest form, was the readers’ job.

“Dare to tell me what you’re writing there all the time?” wondered the Estonian.

“Your story,” the Dane smiled. He could not ignore the change of emotions from amusement to understanding in Eduard’s eyes that followed after Mathias’ line and the way his lips stretched in a smile.

“’Course. You told me before,” smirked the Estonian and decided to finish his drink off. “I’m gonna be popular, ha. Life well spent.”

“Well, for purposes of confidentiality and protection of your personality I’ll have to change your name. For your own good.”

Eduard slipped off the bench carefully looking around to make sure no regular folk or law enforcement officer was watching and threw the empty bottle into the nearest wall observing it break into hundreds of sparkling pieces. Once again, Mathias did not say a word. Eduard put his hands inside the pockets of his leather jacket and, instead of taking back the seat next to the Dane, sat down straight at the cold sidewalk watching Mathias carefully. A sudden breakout of wind tousled his pink hair strands calming down as unexpectedly as it started blowing.

“You’re nice, vend,” he said.

“How so?”

“Well... you’re not from our folk but I guess you have our spirit.” Eduard started rummaging through the pockets of his clipped leather jacket apparently looking for a pack of cigarettes. “You don’t judge. You’re trying to understand us. Usually, all we’ve got is people spitting in our faces.”

“You spit back at them, though,” said the Dane pursuing no purpose of insulting him with those words or point at his imperfections.

“People are weird creatures,” Eduard replied finally feeling a thin body of a cigarette between his fingers and impatiently lighting it on. “They are living in this crap for decades and putting up with shit those idiots are doing to Estonia but can’t stand a view of someone who simply does not look like them. This is why I spit in their faces. Not because they wanna piss off my pink hair or something. I don’t give a fuck. I spit back because they don’t care about the freedom we gave them. Where have they been when we were trying to reach out for the world by transmitting signals via Finland? When we were crafting the self-made transmitters of mercury thermometers in order to receive the broadcasts from Helsinki and spread the freedom of speech? When we were breaking off the Curtain? Where have they all been? Ha, they simply tightened their grip on us as their own opportunity. They saw hope in us. The revolution. We are the cause of the first Song Festival of the Free Land. But now they seem to have forgotten this. Now they are all not worth an old song. This is why I spit in their faces.”

His words forever imprinted in the broad handwriting of the Dane on the pages of his slightly worn out notebook got carried away by the rising wind. Mathias could see with the corner of his eye that Eduard frowned attempting to keep the cigarette lit.

“Jeez, I’m starving. You, vend?” The Dane sarcastically mimicked Eduard with his own nickname watching the Estonian sit on the freezing cold stones of the paved road and have absolutely no worries for the fate of his balls. Mathias genuinely thought that today’s meeting with this shameless young Estonian had come to its end and Eduard would refer to other plans to justify the unwillingness to follow the Dane. However, he did not expect a smile that appeared on the Estonian’s face at that moment.

“Is it on you, then?” he breathed raising up from the sidewalk and Mathias watched his German words disappear into the thin air.

“If you promise to meet me tomorrow at the same spot.”

There was a moment of silence, and Eduard allowed himself to finish his cigarette and give Mathias his verdict.

“Where are you staying?” asked Eduard suddenly giving Mathias an impression that he tried to escape giving promises.

“Anywhere,” he said shrugging. “I don’t need much.”

“That’s dope,” followed the reply and Eduard put the cigarette up by stepping on it. “From now on you’re staying at our condo. I’ve got a room all by myself. If you promise to buy food for everyone, I’m not gonna charge you a kroon for rent.”

Mathias beamed.

***

“Aight vend, here are my boys. Guys,” this time Eduard spoke Estonian addressing his young fellows, “This is Mathias. He’s with me.”

“Here guys, I brought a new dick to stick in my asshole tonight.” Someone in the corner of a great living room made himself heard and the room burst with laughter. Eduard rolled his eyes letting the confused Dane know with the gesture that there was nothing to pay attention to.

“Anyway, from right to left. This is Taavi, he’s joined us recently. We sorta keep an eye on him.” The Estonian pointed at the youngest, to Mathias’ thought, dweller of this spacious flat, and he welcomed the guest with his middle finger. “This,” Eduard stepped over what seemed to be a lifeless body whose soul had definitely departed this cruel world, “Is Erkki. Don’t bother him, he’s a busy man.”

The Dane gave the body whose name had just been identified as Erkki a suspicious look.

“And... what’s so important that he’s doing?”

“He’s thinking of the fate of the Estonian folk,” Eduard concluded seriously shrugging his jacket off and moving on to the next members of his gang. “This is Aare. He got us this condo so his rent share is less than the others’. Here we have Jürgen. He’s got a brain bro, nice working brain. It only works when he’s sober, though. And finally, this is Urmas. Urmas lives for the sake of two things – songs and girls.”

Mathias really had to take his time to get used to the new environment as well as the new housemates who he intended to spend quite some time living with. In reality, there was something more to this excitement he felt in his chest. He was thrilled to realize that the inspiration he was longing for had finally found him here, in the very heart of the punk community that resembled a family more than any other company he had ever seen.

Mathias simply could not believe his own happiness. One shall not lose himself in a dream. One cannot come to the new county, meet such a precious person there in a few days of time and, to sum everything up, blindly trust this person with his own life by accepting the very first offer to come and stay with him and the entire gang of people with the indefinite background. As much as he wanted to, Mathias knew nothing about them. He did not know their reasons to live for, the air they breathed, the sources of their inspiration and ideas or the things that made their lives worth living. Here was where experience came to place. The experience that had the power to distinguish dreams from reality.

Mathias spent the entire night writing. He wrote about the flags decorating the walls, the posters revealing the lines that were banned from use not that long ago. He wrote about the music he could not perceive by himself and sought his new neighbors’ help in order to understand the solid meaning of the lyrics. Mathias wrote about him, about this Estonian sitting on the floor with a recently lit cigarette and his eyes closed in tiredness and a simple wish to face his thoughts. He wrote about Eduard who reached out for the Dane trusting him back, just like Mathias trusted him once, letting him into his little personal world as well as the enormous world beyond the boundaries of his soul. He wrote about his cornflower eyes, his unbelievably calm yet highly inflammable spirit that made Mathias’ heart skip a beat from time to time.

“What are you writing about now?” Eduard spoke and his dense voice reminded the Dane of the cigarette smoke he let through his fingers.

“Urmas lives for the sake of two things – songs and girls,” smiled Mathias and the Estonian gave him a skeptical look.

“Oh yeah, that’s super important. Almost everyone in this room likes girls, you know.”

“Almost?” the Dane asked him back noticing the unease that went through the Estonian’s body as he inhaled the bitter smoke in his lungs particularly deeply.

“You know what they call me? Lilla,” said Eduard avoiding the eye contact. “It actually means ‘violet’, like, a color, you got me? But that’s not really the point here, vend. They use it to insult someone who doesn’t like girls. It means ‘a fag’.”

There was a certain degree of tension settling down in the air after he became silent. At that very moment, Mathias did not feel like joking anymore. Instead, this feeling was replaced by chilling shiver going down his spine, the feeling that usually possessed his body in times of anticipation or shock. The Dane could not say for sure which one of the two feelings prevailed. However, he immediately drew a picture of what could happen in the streets of post-Soviet Tallinn to someone who Estonians called lilla. Someone who could be prosecuted for being lilla not that long ago, if not worse.

“Listen, I can omit this if it makes things better–”

Eduard immediately frowned his blonde eyebrows letting the smoke out of his chest.

“Yea, sure, go ahead if you wanna rid me of my dignity! Not for toffee. I let you in my life, I let you tell my story so do me a favor and tell it right!”There was a sort of anger in his voice but Mathias had no doubt it had nothing to do with the Dane himself but rather with the experience Eduard had faced in a lifetime. “I am not ashamed of who I am. I don’t give a fuck about what those assholes say and what meaning they give to this lilla word. I don’t give a fuck if they’re gonna find me, stab me in the chest or break my ribs. I won’t run. Because you cannot escape from someone who is everywhere. You cannot escape from yourself. It makes no sense! I am not afraid. I am who I am and I’m not alone. Right now we have to hide from the idiots in the streets but I swear to you, the day will come and we will let ourselves be heard. The revolution is not over yet, vend. We are still fighting and we will not stop until we get what we want or die trying.”

Eduard put up his unfinished cigarette leaving it in the common ashtray and stood up to start walking towards his room. He did not even give a chance for the Dane’s disarray to settle by giving him a brief line: “Are you coming or what?” Mathias followed him right away grabbing his stuff from the floor and vanishing behind the door to Eduard’s room until next morning.

***

In the next few days, Mathias’ good old notebook got filled in with notes to the cover. He even managed to find the ways to communicate with the rest of Eduard’s second family (not without his help, of course) whose thoughts and memories he also imprinted in the paper. Mathias tried to grasp every single little moment, every detail of their lives as well as Eduard’s brave and somewhat wise thoughts that came out of nowhere from time to time. Once it happened to him after the Estonian offer him a self-made joint.

“Do you want to die healthy or happy?” asked Eduard raising his eyebrows at Mathias’ refusal to his offer and explanation that smoking does no good.

“You think that dying both happy and healthy is not an option?” he parried. Eduard rolled his eyes inhaling the smoke and letting it out of his deeply smoked lungs.

“How do you even see this, ha? I know no one who would die because he had too much health. We all die. Someone dies from aging, others from injuries or accidents but anyway, everyone dies from an inability to handle certain effects. Everybody is given a particular amount of energy upon birth. Since that moment, we die every day because our bodies slowly give up the energy we were given. And then it gets replaced by exhaustion and tiredness. You simply haven’t felt it yet. But go out there and find, let’s say, a fifty-year-old dude. Ask him a question. Ask him out for a drink tonight and he will refuse. Because it is you who can drink all night long and then wake up at seven in the morning and go waste your life in the office or whatever like nothing happened the night before. He can’t do the same anymore because his body has let go of too much energy in all the years. One day we all come to this thought and then there’s nothing we can do. And so we let go. And as you see it has nothing to do with smoking.”

Mathias gave him a sly smirk but in his mind, he could not help but agree with the fact Eduard’s words did not lack reasoning.

“You’re way too smart for your 22, aren’t you?”

“It’s as easy as pie, vend,” the Estonian shrugged. “Don’t tell me you’ve never thought about that. There’s nothing too smart about it. It’s just who we are.”

Sometimes Eduard got lost somewhere in town having left Mathias his set of keys to not let the Dane find himself trapped in the apartment (and to allow him to get outside and do some grocery shopping just as agreed). The other day the Estonian would develop certain melancholy which only he could perceive and express by the unwillingness to leave the bed listening to J.M.K.E. and lighting up self-made joints one by one all day long. Mathias just let it be. Very soon both of them started to realize that their lives would have never taken any other direction. The nights they spent being half the time among the other gang members, half the time with each other made their souls collide to the point when they no longer felt that the usual night routine satisfied them both.

That night Eduard made sure the door to his room was locked. He simply did not want a single soul to distract him from the lips that tasted too sweet to Eduard’s thinking. He was the one to take this first step towards being even closer than before and, having made sure the Dane was eagerly reciprocating his insistent, almost demanding kiss, allowed the impossible to happen. The Estonian let him come too close, break through the layers of smeared makeup, pink hair and cocky words to reveal a vulnerable soul in his core. He let the Dane know him as deeply as no one had ever dared to even try to get to know him before.

After all, there was no difference between their bodies rushing together, willing to feel each other’s skin. Eduard lay open and naked in front of Mathias and the Dane contemplated his chest surge heavily, fingers stroking down the ribs, his skin covering some decent muscles underneath, his bluish veins revealing themselves as the Estonian tightened his grip on the Dane’s shoulders, their hips tenderly colliding and making their desires look so obvious. Mathias reached out for his neck caressing it with endless kisses and let Eduard’s hands touch the Dane’s body wherever he wanted. And oh he did just that. He was barely breathing, brushing his fingers against Mathias’ back in slow, soothing movements that trailed down to his hips, found the way to his chest and finally rested on his warm neck. All the differences between them did not matter anymore. There were no boundaries, no history, no culture or politics – anything that would draw a fine line between people in the outside world. In Eduard’s world behind the locked door there was nothing that would remind either of them of the different lives they used to live, though.

So Eduard allowed Mathias to get even deeper under his skin. He allowed the Dane to lock his arms around his body causing Eduard to let out a choked gasp and words whose meaning remained a mystery for Mathias. He allowed him to watch the Estonian arch his spine, to tangle his fingers in Eduard’s hair, to gently put their arousals together shifting the fingers in a soft yet intense touch. A whispering ‘keppi mind’ escaped into the distance between their lips filled with the thick, moist, almost burning hot air and Eduard squeezed Mathias’ waist with his legs letting him in, letting him come closer, letting him thrust into his body, making his insides burn. As they were melting together, the Estonian forgot his own name; he was calling Mathias by his instead for the first time since the very moment they saw each other by Kadriorg. That moment was enough for him to realize that perhaps they would not be a one night stand – and so he got lost in a long, open-mouthed, moist kiss as his body trembled in sweet relief...

As soon as the morning came, Mathias made himself clear about their fate. For the reasons that left the Estonian completely flabbergasted and set him off track, the Dane announced his departure later this evening. His job in Estonia was done and he did not see any other reasons to stay there any longer. At least, this was what Mathias said. He did not even give a single chance to either of them to let things sink in leaving Eduard alone with his bare soul hanging out of his body, shattered and broken into million pieces.

Of course, that was enough for Eduard to throw Mathias out of the condo together with all the stuff he brought in. He did not really incline to any mercy, say any last words or threat him with serious consequences should Mathias ever decide to come back. The Estonian simply did not see any merit in this. Was there any merit in this situation at all?

“Mida sa tegid?” was the only thought that rushed through his mind as Eduard was falling into an unconscious sleep. The regret filled his heart – the regret of having approached the Dane in the first place. If only he had known.

***

“East or West, home is best,” said the infamous expression. Some people praise it as the absolute truth. Others are always ready to challenge its meaning. One way or another, everyone perceives it in their own unique way.

For some of us, home is a place where we first saw the light of day. Indeed, those of us who find such place home contribute to its everyday life in order to make it at least slightly better for themselves as well as the others. For some of us, though, place of birth has nothing to do with home. It is a place that sets such people at a starting line of a lifetime creating numerous challenges and obstacles that make them wonder whether they are actually calling a right place a home. At that point, they wander along in their thoughts seeking a home where their hearts would settle.

Mathias had been running away his entire life. He fled each and every place that bore a threat to him – a threat of becoming attached to somewhere or losing himself. That night, while walking down the streets of the Estonian capital the Dane raised his head to look up at the roofs of two towers forming Viru Gates. Their usual spot. The spot where he and Eduard used to meet. The place that divided the present and the past, split the buildings of the New and the Old Towns as well as two young souls.

“What am I really doing here?” he was thinking. Lonely, lost, having his heart left somewhere in Kadriorg on a cloudy day in April. Standing in the country that used to be foreign to him but seemed to have become something so much more in the end.

Mathias could not tear his glance off the place where the Estonian, whose essence itself smelled of smoke and sweet caramel, waited for him every day the same hour. The paved road broadened in front of him in its medieval glory. The rows of colorful, almost toy-like houses framed the road leading to the place where the Town Hall Square tower proudly winded to the sky. Tiredness and weird thoughts occupied the Dane’s mind and he went through the Viru Gates once again, facing the void of a very familiar spot.

That night he seemed to have lost his ferry ticket to Helsinki, deliberately or accidentally, for he urged to reunite with the light of the cornflower eyes dimmed with the shadows of black makeup, the scent of the hair freshly dyed acidic pink and warmth of the spirit Mathias would never trade for anything in the world.

“Mul on nii kahju,” he whispered as Eduard surrounded him by tightening embrace of his shivering arms.

“Lilla.” That single word was everything the Estonian could say in return, too happy for the sentimental greeting. Mathias did not mind. After all, it was the Eduard he met by Kadriorg. Eduard he never wanted to lose anymore.

***

“Everyone, listen up! I’ve got my contact with the publishing! It means that my book will be translated and printed!” The Dane came back to the apartment on the seventh heaven. The loud cheers followed the announcement, someone in the familiar corner even left out a cheeky comment about all the work Mathias had to do to earn some decent sex that night. That, in return, was followed by a sound ‘ime lahti’ coming from one of the bedrooms revealing Eduard leaning on the door frame and smiling widely.

Surely, Eduard had other ways to express his happiness with the news: that is to give Mathias a particularly deep kiss – behind the closed doors of his room, of course.

“So, does it mean you came up with a final title after all?” Eduard asked exhaling some bitter smoke from a cigarette he reached out for after their lips parted.

“Guess so.”

“Dare to tell me what it is then?”

“Kodu. Home,” replied Mathias. “’Cause this story is about you, about me, about every one of us. About people of this small imperfect land where revolution is still raging. But we’re gonna fight through it, for our home, for our happiness... don’t you think so?”

Eduard just smiled.

#denest #aph denest #aph denmark #aph estonia #rarepair #eduard is punk af #mathias has a thing for a punk boi #the 1990s #punks #eesti #hetalia #aph fanfiction

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musubiki · 7 years ago

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OHHHH JUST FOUND THIS BLOG AND THE LOVE FOR N IS DYING SO SO SO holy shit dude can you tell us more about the boy??? The liberation boy??? But like shipping??? Facts about his relationship with White?? Like like does White bride his hair?? Does N do nerdy romantic things??? FUCKING LOVE YOU, YOUR ART IF FUCKING GREAT HOLY SHIT I DIE. SO LIKE, LOVE FROM SPAIN!!! YOU ARE GREAT KEEP UP THE WORK ILY!!!!! THANKS FOR PROVIDING SUCH GREAT CONTENT!!!

FUCK YEAH I LOVE HIM SO MUCH YOU GUYS HAVE NO IDEA

➞

so hfjks like i said before i like the idea that N is a lot like adrien from mircaulous, so hes a REALLY NICE GUY HES A BIG SWEETHEART

hes kind of…dorkier…than the games show him as,.. like hes a little clumsy, kinda dense, sometimes he says embarassing shit in front of white and she gives him that fa ce

i hc that trainers can ‘talk’ to their pokemon (similar to the i am groot thing in marvel, where they say like. their name or some illigetamit sound and after the trainer has them for a while, can actually understand what theyre saying) so N’s special thing is he can talk to ALL pokemon. it doesnt matter who owns it. or if its a wild pokemon. he understands them always no matter what it is (he could probably talk to arceus)

N has the power to heal pokemon. yes. without potions or pokemon center tech. this exsists in some rare individuals(like yellow in the pokespe manga) probably descends from some ancient royal family. the power is usually associated with people who live near/grew up an old forest, and is also associated with green hair (cheryl from dppt also has this power)

only white knows about this power he has, hes only shown it to her once to save her pokemon and asked her not to tell anyone about it. she never did

whoever the profecided heros of truth and ideals were meant to be, they were destined to be soulmates essentially. because they were part of the same dragon, the heroes in turn as well “complete” each other. theyre supposed to work together to fix the world when the stones were reunited, but inveitably, ended up as enemies by accident

so the first time they met in accumula they had a big fight and essentially HATED EACH OTHER LMAO.,…white thought he was a ignorant buffoon and he thought she was a hot headed bigot

nonetheless, white pretty much stuck in his head (he has no idea why. he doesnt suspect who she is) so. he seeks her out in Nacrene City because. who is she to do this to me.

but between their previous interaction and this one, the dreamyard happened, white was actually kinda humbled by that and plus. bianca was scolding her to be nicer to people. so when she sees N again shes like ugh., okay. be nice.

so they have another. conversation. about his image for the world about where pokemon have become perfect blah blah(hero of ideals at his finest) and he asks her if she agrees with him. we all know this scene. and shes like. ‘keep calm white’

so she takes a deep breath and answers no, she believes that pokemon are similar to people with all their flaws and attributes and should be accepted and loved the way they are without trying to make4 them perfec t.

and hes. taken aback,. because that was. a good response. facts. and this is the point where he becomes like, very intruged with her because wow he expected her to say some bigot stuff but that ws pretty good holy crap. so hes standing there with this dopey look on his face and white is

‘wow being nice kinda works’ she thinks, before blurting out “So are we gonna battle or…” and yes, they battle, she wins, and he sees, once again, that her pokemon love battling.

this is conflicting to him because ghetsis raised him with abused pokemon, so N has this false image of the world that all pokemon are unhappy with trainers. ok, i gotta talk to her more, he subconsiously thinks.

this post has a lot for white and N as well

this is the point where he thinks of her differently, more like wow we could be…..friends?

hes really nervous in the ferriswheel. hes fidgeting. why am i nervous, he questions himself, its just white.

hes actually kind of scared of her too

the point where white thinks differently of him is (sometime, idk when) shes in. big trouble like. idk what happens shes out exploring in the dark and rain or some stupid shit but the main point is, he ends up saving her life

and hes panicked after this. “Are you okay??” and hes frantic. hes genuinely concerned. and shes genuinely confused.

“Why would you save me?” she asks him while he walks her back to the pokemon center. hes confused at first as to what kind of question that even was, she explains “I’m the one who’s actively trying to stop you. If you wanted to achieve your dreams and get rid of me that was the perfect oppertunity, so why would you save me? I thought you hated me??”

and hes a bit shocked by this. he never hated her, ever, he explains and after a few moments of kind of awkward and embrassing silence, he tells her that he finds her interesting/likes her opinions/ideas on things/wants to know her better/likes being around her SOME SHIT LIKE THIS AND SHES “./././///./……//” like wow. hes not. so bad.

after nacrene city N always takes his hat off when he talks to her. at first white is confused by it but. her stoutland tells her it looks like its a sign of like respect and admiration and shes like oh. ok. she thinks its kinda cute that he does that

he usually blushes when hes talking to her

compare this to when hes talking to like. prof juniper. he has the most stone cold voice. hes made of metal. and then he talks to white and suddenly hes made of flower petals

hes actually pretty nice to bianca and cheren too, even though cheren is like constantly giving him the side eye. “Why is the king of team plasma hanging out with us” “Chill young man”

her pokemon LOVE N by the way. she hates that they love him so much. she thinks they like him more than her

N is like. really cute by the way. like REALLY CUTE

hes spent most of his life alone, with just the company of pokemon(even after ghetsis found him, he was still pretty alone) so being around white is….nice….like she shows/does things hes never even heard of before. “Hey you dare me to stand on top of these two stacks of soda cans?” “,.um…why????” hes confused by half the shit she says

“Yo dude, [slang sentance].” “White, I understood all those words seperately.”

N is actually a genius. hes super fricken smart he just doesnt pick up on things sometimes. especially meme-like jokes and humor that depends on context of a specific movie or something he’ll stand there like “?????” [meme of that lady with all the math symbols around her head]

white is actually really smart too. shes not a genius and she does reckless shit all the time but shes very sensible below all her adventurous and spontanious ways. she just likes to have fun climbing trees and hiking through caves. biggest tomboy.

N has the brightest smile. he is the cutest cinamon roll. his eyes are a nice shade of teal and hes just lovely i love him very much. if you gave him a flower crown he would achieve perfection

when reshiram first manifests in the fight against N and white catches her N,..,. smiles…like…its a revelation that everything that happened in his life is perfect and shes perfect and everything was meant to be and hes struggling to focus on his goals and winning the battle because. its her. its always been her and he has. strong doubts at this point already but maybe shes right. and watching this glorious beautiful girl saving the world with the dragon of truth is like the most mesmerizing and amazing thing hes ever seen

and actually, he probably just gave up towards the end of the battle because in his mind, hes already decided that she was right the whole time, and everythign he thought he knew was wrong.

when N leaves, white has tears in her eyes. she never wanted him to go but he needed to leave. he wanted to see the world for himself and reevaluate what he thought was true.

he gives her his hat before he leaves. something to remember him by, he tells her. she always keeps it with her from this point. its hooked onto her bag.

N thinks he wasnt meant to be the hero of ideals but he was. he just feels bad about what he did. zekrom chose him for a reason. N ended up helping a lot of people and pokemon while he was out…experiencing the world…

N and white have the purest and deepest relationship out of. any of the pokemon ships i like. i love them.

N DOES DO NERDY ROMANTIC THINGS when they actually get together. he gets her flowers and chocolates and literally anything that would ever make her smile he LOVES HER VERY MUCH

“I bought you a flower shop”

fhjuhds probably not but iut sounds like something he would do

#whocares-idont #ask #long post #headcanons #this isnt even everything i really like them a LOT CAN YOU TELL

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