#the marketing is doing very well here (derogatory)

[level30lawn]

Friendly reminder to everyone that you shouldn't engage with brands on social media. Even if it's engagement savvy to the site's culture do not let them take root.

[merlincmgirl]

Dirty Talk - Echo x FReader - NSFW

Summary: Being forced to the sidelines with your riddur for company could be worse, but you were bored! Just the sound of Echo's voice was enough to get your mind wondering. He offers to help make your thoughts a reality.

Characters: Echo

Pairing: Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 5,213

Warnings: PinV sex, fingering, oral sex (male and female receiving), dirty talk, teasing, use of derogatory language (once), bratty behaviour. If I've missed anything, please let me know.

Authour's Note: Echo deserves better, especially from the writers! My precious boy!

“We should be out there with the rest of the team, you shouldn’t have to be stuck inside babysitting me!” you grumbled, monitoring the communications between the rest of the Bad Batch.

Echo rolled his eyes, he had heard the same complaint for the 56th time already. The only reason he hadn’t said anything was because it was you, his love, ner cyare. But it was wearing a bit thin. “I’m not babysitting, and besides you could be spotted out there. It’s not safe for you to go wondering around markets when the governor has placed a bounty on your head” Echo reminded, glancing at you from the corner of his eye.

“All I did was accidently address his mistress as his wife” you pouted, crossing your arms and resting your feet on the corner of his chair.

“In front of his wife and a news reporter” Echo added, shaking his head at you. That had been a very eventful evening, resulting in your quick get away and as many apologies that Hunter and the GAR could come up with. It still hadn’t saved the governor’s marriage though.

“How was I meant to know he was having an affair? Or that woman was the planet’s primary news reporter” you huffed, glaring at the screen in front of you. Honestly, it wasn’t like you intended to cause trouble, maybe the governor shouldn’t have been cheating on his wife.

Echo pursed his lips and took a deep breath – all precursors to a lecture or rant from him. You settled even more comfortably into the flight chair, knowing you would need to do so to enjoy whatever he was gearing himself up to say.

“Well if you had read the briefing that Tech put together, mesh’la, you would have known what his wife looked like. Or realised that the woman who was standing next to him was not his mistress. She was standing behind them, why would his wife not stand beside him?” Echo lectured, eyes burning into yours as he went on. His low, grumpy voice was always something you enjoyed listening to. And when you two were alone in his bunk, it was more than enough to get you breathless. So when he started gesturing with his hand and scomp to make his point, you began to feel a bit heated.

“This is why it’s important to get all the details. It was wrong of the governor, but that doesn’t mean that we had to be the ones to expose his affair. I’ll give you that you didn’t know about the reporter, you couldn’t have known that, but next time mesh’la, perhaps listening to Tech when he tells us about a planet or government that we’re working for. I know he can go on, but it’s in your best interests, cyare” Echo ranted on, hand coming down occasionally to rub at the bare patch of skin at your ankle.

It was always so beautiful to see him so passionate about something, in this case, your inability to listen to Tech’s debriefs and noticing the little details. You didn’t mind, Echo only wanted to keep you safe and protected, he didn’t mean his words in a harsh way. You knew he would do anything to protect you. It was why you loved him so much, he took care of you in a way nobody else had before. “Are you listening to me, mesh’la?” he sighed, bringing you out of your head and back to the present.

“Of course I am! I know I should have listened more, sweetheart. I’m just glad to be here with you. Even if we are stuck on the Marauder” you smiled, leaning forward to place a kiss on his cheek. Echo returned the smile, his hand cupping your cheek briefly as he pressed a similar kiss to your own cheek before returning back to work.

Looking out the cockpit window, you could see a variety of different buildings from where you were docked. The planet’s architecture was beautiful, buildings in soft sandy colours with rich blues and greens mixed into the stone. It reminded you of the sea almost, the colours shimmering in the sunlight, just like the water reflecting the sun’s rays.

It was beautiful, and it just made you want to explore even more. Turning to your riddur, you forced a pout onto your lips. You knew he saw you, because his shoulders tensed up as he was listening to the comm chatter that was going on between the rest of the team members of the Bad Batch.

“Couldn’t we go out just a little? We wouldn’t even have to go far from the Marauder” you suggested hopefully, reaching out to rest an imploring hand on Echo’s scomp.

“Mesh’la” he huffed warningly, tone already showcasing how much he was not enjoying your behaviour at the moment. “We’re staying on the ship. We have to be prepared in case the others need a pick up” he said firmly, raising an eyebrow at you as if daring you to keep it up.

Which really, Echo should know better, because of course you would. He had set you a challenge, and who would you be to refuse it. Especially when you were bored.

“Fine!” you grumbled, looking back out of the window and ignoring his look. Echo narrowed his eyes at your simple agreement but went back to what he was supposed to be doing.

When you were sure that Echo was busy and engrossed in his work, you began to move the foot that rested in his lap slowly back and forth, underneath the kama that he wore. Occasionally your toes would dip into the small gap between his thigh plate and codpiece. Watching him from the corner of your eye, you could see Echo’s jaw clench but he continued on with his work.

Disappointed to not get a bigger reaction, you shifted around and sighed loudly, hoping to disturb him enough to make him pay attention to you. Again nothing.

Frowning, you began to think of something else to capture his attention away from the system displayed in front of him. Finally you spotted the answer to your problem. On the side next to you was your datapad. Grabbing it, you quickly began typing loudly on the screen, drumming your nails against the casing every so often. Clicking your nails against the datapad wasn’t working and only got you a small huff of air through his nose in annoyance. Still Echo didn’t react how you wanted him to. He wasn’t even touching your feet that you had left in his lap. He never missed the chance to touch you in one way or another.

Well, if he was just going to ignore you while you sat bored in the cockpit, so be it. You would at least try and fill the quiet that had settled in between you. Selecting a video that Omega had sent you, you leaned back in your chair and turned the volume up. It was of a little akk puppy chasing after a holoball, tumbling around and falling over it’s own legs. You couldn’t help but coo at the sight.

“Love, I’m trying to work” Echo bit out through gritted teeth. His shoulders had straightened and there was an obvious twitch along his jaw that made your heart beat a little faster.

“Work then, I’m not stopping you” you shrugged, keeping your eyes focused on the screen in front of you.

Sighing heavily, you felt Echo shift beneath you, hips adjusting in the chair before he seemed to settle. Glancing up through your eyelashes at him, you noticed that his pale cheeks were getting flushed. Either in annoyance or frustration you weren’t sure, but it did make him look even cuter.

Relaxing further into your chair, you waited a few more minutes before edging the volume up every minute or so, waiting for a reaction from him. Unable to help it, you laughed loudly at another video of a tooka cat, unable to muffle the noise as you became lost in the videos.

However a hand landed on your ankle, clasping the fragile bones tightly and tugging it closer to him. You looked up, blinking at him innocently. He looked annoyed now, jaw fluttering in anger as he scowled at you.

“You’re doing this on purpose” he accused you, thumb rubbing against your ankle, the pressure was enough to make you want to close your eyes and press into his hand but you refrained.

“Doing what? It’s not my fault I’m bored and you’re not talking to me” you huffed, crossing your arms to look back at him. He raised an eyebrow and let out a little scoff.

“Oh you want my attention, is that it?” he drawled, turning around to face you with an arch of his expressive eyebrow. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel in front of him before he levelled you with a hard look. “Why are you trying to distract me?” he asked, the rough tones of annoyance filtered through his voice making your stomach churn in desire for him. You loved when his voice got all deep and rough when he was rebuking someone or feeling annoyed.

Sighing heavily, you poked your bare feet into the seam of his hip, teasing him some more. “You’re not even talking to me… I like listening to your voice” you explained, shrugging slightly to help ease the nerves that you felt after admitting this to him.

“Oh” Echo breathed, back straightening at your answer and blinking a couple of times in surprise. He obviously wasn’t expecting that answer off his cyare.

“It makes me feel warm inside, like I’m safe and protected. But also… I don’t know, you make me want to drop to my knees in front of you so that I can be your good girl. Makes me want you to read one of my racy holobooks just to hear what the love interest could sound like in those moments” you admitted, biting your lip and looking away from him. Heat raced across your face, feeling like it was blistering your cheeks at how embarrassed you felt from your words. He would probably just politely say that he was flattered but it wasn’t something he was also interested in doing with you.

“Is that right, cyare? Maybe you’ll have to pick me one of your favourites, I’m sure I could get into them” he murmured, running his thumb against the arch of your foot, pressing slightly to ease the pressure there.

“Don’t tease me!” you pouted, covering your face with your hands at his words.

“I’m not cyare, I just didn’t realise that you liked my voice so much” he soothed, hoping to ease some of your embarrassment and worry. Carefully, he placed your foot on the floor, leaving the cool metal to spread a shiver up your body at the sudden temperature. “But maybe I should have guessed, you’re always get this glazed look in your eyes when I’m talking to you. Reminds me when we’re alone in my bunk, and you’re trying to keep quiet while we have some fun” he stated, leaning closer towards you, elbow on his knees.

“Echo!” you hissed, glancing to the comms in front of him in case the others were hearing your conversation. Thankfully, it was all turned off from your end. You didn’t think your skin could run any hotter until you heard his words, your cheeks colouring even more.

“On your knees, mesh’la. If you’re feeling bored, might as well give you something to entertain yourself with” he ordered, and you felt your panties dampen even further. Getting up from the co-pilot seat, you slid in between the control panel and his chair, settling in between his splayed thighs before you knelt before him. Your mouth watered, eager to listen to more of his demands.

Echo’s breath faltered for a moment, just staring down at you between his legs. You were gorgeous! He had never thought he’d ever get to experience the love and devotion you showed him, especially not after Skako Minor. He didn’t feel deserving of you, not looking like he did, not with half of him being more machine than man. But you didn’t think that. You loved him, every part of him, both metal and flesh. And you always would gently chide and rebuke him whenever he talked badly about himself, instead praising him and kissing him until he forgot all about the fear and hate he carried with him.

“Echo?” you frowned, recognising that his mind had gone elsewhere, and not a good place. Resting your hand on his, fingers twisted together you guided him back to the present moment. “Everything okay?” you asked worriedly.

The ARC trooper smiled softly, squeezing your fingers in his hand and nodded. “Just thinking about how perfect you are, cyare” he assured, scomp brushing a few strands of hair away from your face.

You turned and pressed a chaste kiss to his scomp before smiling up at him. His thighs tensed around you and his eyes fluttered shut for a moment. “I think you promised to entertain me, Corporal” you reminded him, dragging your hands down his thighs under his kama.

“That’s right, I did” he chuckled warmly, hands coming up to deftly unclip the codpiece and dropping it to the side with a small clang. Groaning at the relief of pressure, he deftly unfastened the compression suit underneath and freed his cock. It was already half hard, your words from earlier enough to chub him up. He reached down and gave himself a few pumps as you looked up at him, mouth watering at the thought of having him in your mouth. Of tasting him on your tongue.

“God, look at how eager you are. Bet if I felt you down there, you’d be soaked through” he rumbled, voice deep and rough as arousal thickened his words. Your thighs clench together, proving just how right he was. “Open up, mesh’la” he ordered, running his thumb across your bottom lip before dragging it open even more.

You helped guide him in, hands wrapping around the bottom of his shaft to keep him steady. However instead of pushing in all the way just like you expected him to. He keeps your mouth open, drool beginning to collect in the corners and leak down your chin. His cock was a warm, heavy weight against your tongue, and you couldn’t help but rub it briefly around his crown.

Echo let out a loud groan of your name, eyes sliding shut at the warm, wet feeling of your mouth surrounding him. It was enough to have him force his scomp arm to rest on the arm of the chair, not wanting to hurt you by trying to pull you closer or use too much force on your neck.

“Kriff cyare, you look gorgeous like this. Just keeping my cock in your mouth, those beautiful eyes focused on me. Such a good girl” he moaned, hand coming up to rest on the back of your head. When you tapped the metal plates of his thigh – your signal for him to carry on – he groaned and began sliding his length further into your open mouth, careful to not go too fast. Not yet anyway.

When the tip of his cock reached the back of your throat, you took a deep steadying breath in through your nose, feeling him weighing heavily in your mouth. Running your tongue along the underside of his cock, you tried to take him even further, wanting to gag on him. However, the hand on the back of your neck suddenly reached to tangle into your hair and pulled you away slightly. You whined around his length, looking up into his lust filled eyes with your own.

“Force, your mouth, cyare. So eager to be filled with my cock, is that it? Couldn’t focus on our mission because you were so desperate to get filled by my cock” he groaned, unable to look away as your eyes watered from holding him in your mouth.

You could feel heat pool and slick leak out of your cunt, drenching your panties in your juices at his words and actions. Just the feel of his length against your tongue and his pre-cum dropping onto you had your hips rocking forward, wishing you could reach down and offer yourself some relief. But you knew that if Echo caught you, he wouldn’t be happy. No, he wanted you to remember that you shouldn’t be trying to distract him while you were both supposed to be working.

“Sucking my cock really gets you off, huh? Go on love, I can see how much you need it.”

Blinking in surprise, you felt Echo’s leg move in between your spread thighs, offering his boot up to you. Was he serious? Did he want you to hump his leg while you sucked his cock? The thought did send heat shooting down your spine at the thought, but it would highlight just how much you were needy for him, and for some friction against your tingly clit. Seeing his encouraging nod, you settled yourself against his boot before finally rolling your hip, searching for pleasure.

After the first roll of your hips against the hard, shiny plastoid of his boots, you couldn’t restrain the moan that escaped your mouth, muffled by Echo’s cock. It had you reaching out to his calves, holding them as sparks of your arousal flittered to your core, tightening the knot of arousal even further. Echo, just moaned your name, feeling the vibration echo around his length as he pulled back before sliding back in swiftly.

“I remember my vods being desperate for you to look at them. If they could see you now, drooling on my cock, begging for relief as you hump my boot. They’d be so excited to see what a slut you are, but only for me. Right cyare? Only I can make you feel like this” he murmured, hips rolling against your face. You tried to get out a ‘yes Echo’ but it all came out in a garbled mess around his cock. “Oh, that’s it! My perfect girl” Echo moaned, feeling the vibration around his length.

The sounds he was letting out was almost too much and you ground heavily against his boot, eager for something to relieve the pressure that was building in your cunt. If he continued fucking your face, and you the rolling of your hips against the slight arch of his boot, then it wouldn’t be long before you both cummed from this alone.

The gurgles and spluttering noises as he pushed into your throat had you clenching around nothing, and you reached a hand up to hold his scomp, wanting to be touching him more, even with his cock forcing itself down your throat.

“Fuck! Stop, stop mesh’la!” he cursed, pulling out and holding your head away from him. Your ARC trooper panted heavily, breath coming out in short sharp jabs as he held you away from his sensitive length. You grumbled, wanting to taste more of his salty, unique taste. “I don’t want to cum down your throat” he murmured, shaking his head.

After a few seconds of you both calming yourselves down and taking in a few deep breaths; Echo reached under your arms and pulled you up to your feet. You let out a little squeal in surprise before he was up on his feet too, turning you both around until he was guiding you to sit in the chair he had just been occupying.

“There we go cyare. Need to open you up before I take you” he said, a smirk playing on his lips as you nodded your consent. God you wanted him to curl his long fingers inside of you and prepare you for him.

Echo gripped your hips, tugging you down until your ass was near the edge of the seat. Hooking his fingers into your leggings and panties, he dragged them over your ass and down your thighs, throwing them somewhere behind him. He helped pull your legs up as well, landing a kiss on each knee and grazing his teeth along them before looking at you, love, awe and lust all rolled into his beautiful whiskey coloured eyes.

“Spread your legs, mesh’la. That’s it… wider… wider mesh’la” he breathed, biting his lip as you hooked your legs up on the arm rests. He sunk to his knees on the floor in between then, his warm breath caressing your sensitive mound.

However, he didn’t touch you, much to your building frustration, preferring to look at you and take in your musky, heated scent and the clenching of your entrance as you were spread out for him. Like a beautiful feast he couldn’t wait to enjoy.

“Fuck, Echo please!” you whined, voice coming out more breathlessly than you hoped. Closing your eyes, you clenched your hands around your thighs. Both as to keep them spread for him, and because you needed at least a brief touch to remind yourself that you weren’t going crazy, waiting for him to touch you, to just do something.

“You’re gorgeous. Such a needy, little thing for me, aren’t you? I haven’t touched you yet and you’re already begging for me” Echo groaned, not taking his eyes away from your dripping slit. He wanted to run his fingers through your soaking wet folds, spread your lips and drink your juices straight from the source. The sounds you were letting out was making his hard as durasteel cock even harder, as you tried to encourage him to move.

Noticing the rolling of your hips upwards towards his face, he chuckled, gathered your slick on two of his fingers before pushing them into your quivering entrance.

The sound you let out at finally being filled and not teased was music to Echo’s ears. Your hot, tight walls pulsed around him, eager to pull his fingers even deeper into your core. He could feel just how wet you were, already leaking into the palm of his hand as he withdrew them before thrusting them back in, curling slightly to search for that sweet spot.

When he had it, you reached down to grip onto his pauldron, fingers curled tight around the smooth plastoid as you let out a cry of his name. Although you loved his voice, he was just as good with his hand and he could pull orgasm after orgasm from you with little more than his fingers.

“That’s it, mesh’la, you feel fucking fantastic surrounding my fingers, it feels like you never want to let them go. I’d be a happy man if I could stay here between your legs for the rest of my life” he growled, before nipping and sucking at the inside of your thigh to leave a mark.

Wasting no time, he pressed his scomp against your clit, activating a gentle vibration that had you clenching even tighter around him, hands coming up to the back of his head to push him closer to the apex of your thighs.

“FUCK! ECHO!” you cried out, body tightening as he used his scomp to push you over the edge, still keeping up his delicious thrust of his fingers inside of you.

“That’s it mesh’la, doing so good” he moaned, pressing his lips to your slit and catching your release on his tongue, swirling against your entrance to catch as much as possible. “Taste so good, mesh’la, can’t get enough of you” he grunted, his words pressed right into your folds, the gentle vibration combining with his scomp to keep you riding your high longer than you normally would.

When he pulled away, you practically sagged into the seat, completely boneless after Echo had knocked every thought out of your head apart from his name. He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, pressing gentle kisses along your smooth and soft skin as he waited for you to catch your breath.

“You okay?” he checked in, noticing the small smile on your face that was aimed at him.

“Yeah… yeah ‘m feeling good” you murmured, trailing your fingers along his handsome face and down his neck. He closed his eyes, shivering slightly at the tender caress.

“Think you can go for more?” he asked, biting his lip.

“Kriff yes! Want to hear how you’re going to fuck me, trooper” you grinned, sending him a wink.

Echo smirked, eyes blazing with heat and want as he pinched your hip, enjoying the little squeal of surprise and happiness that you let out. “It’s Corporal to you! And why tell you when I can show you instead?” he grinned, pulling you up with a firm grip and spinning you around so that your back was pressed against his chest.

You shivered as the coolness of his armour was held to you, the temperature always a bit cooler than normal on the Marauder since your escape from the Empire. After all, you had to save fuel as much as possible, meaning the heating was the first thing to be sacrificed. He rubbed his hand up and down your arm before pressing a number of kisses to the back of your neck, sucking marks along the way as he dragged your shirt up with his scomp.

“Going to bend you over this chair and fuck you, mesh’la. Right where my brothers and I sit. Every time I’ll sit here I’ll remember this. How eager you were for me to fill your needy hole up. Every time I’ll send a comm or answer one, I’ll think about how much you love my voice. How wet it makes you” he murmured, fingers coming to brush against your folds.

You whimpered, his words sinking in as you realised just how open you were in the cockpit. Anybody could look up and see you through the visor at the front of the ship. Hell, Hunter would know exactly what you’ve been doing in here just as soon as he stepped on the ship, maybe before. The thought that this chair, this room would forever be remembered because you couldn’t help but feel turned on by Echo’s voice and the way he lectured you. It had you sinking over the chair, hands on the arm rest as your head hung between your shoulders.

“Oh, do you like that thought, mesh’la? That I won’t ever be able to forget what we’re doing whenever I’m in here. Going to get me hard just as soon as I walk in here” he chuckled, sliding his hand and scomp to your waist to pull your ass closer into his hips. He moaned at the feel of your ass cheeks brushing against his straining erection. “Ready?” he asked, thumb rubbing circles on your hip.

“Please Echo!” you groaned, gritting your teeth and pushing back into him even more.

“Alright, alright” he chuckled, notching the head of his cock at your entrance. With a final nod of consent from you, he slid home into your tight cunt. Your combined visceral moans echoed along the walls of the cockpit as Echo didn’t stop until he was fully inside of you.

You gritted your teeth, the feel of his length inside you was almost too much. It felt like his cock was carving a way into you, moulding your inner walls around him until he fit perfectly into you. Your hands gripped onto the arm rests, eyes fluttering as you became used to the sensation of feeling so filled by him.

“Fuck Echo, you feel so good. Feel amazing baby” you praised, reaching a hand behind you to catch one of his hips, squeezing tightly as you felt his hips quiver at your words and touch.

“How are you this tight? We were together last night” he breathed, shaking his head as he felt you clench and pulse around him. Inside of his head he was reciting the regulation manual of the command structure if there was no Jedi Commander. It wasn’t thrilling but it ensured that he wouldn’t end this sooner than he wanted.

“Come on, please Corporal” you breathed, throwing your hips back.

It had Echo flittering his jaw as he snapped his hips into yours, burying his length into your warmth over and over again until the sounds of both of your soft grunts and moans, and the wet squelching of your cunt was all that could be heard in the cockpit of the Marauder.

He wrapped his metal arm around your waist, pulling you even tighter to him and fucking himself as deep as he could go into you, angling his hips to find that spot that had you seeing stars. When he found it, you growled out, fists clenching and digging into the soft leather of the chair.

“Kriff, you’re so good! Fucking perfect cunt, can feel how much you want me. How much you need this pretty pussy to be filled by me” he growled into your shoulder, eyes closed tight as he focused on fucking you hard and deep into the pilot’s seat.

“Yes, yes, I need you! Please Echo” you cried, throwing your head back and reaching up a hand to cup the back of his neck. The shift in position had his cock pounding into the spongy part of your walls that had ecstasy burning through you. You groaned, tightening around him as much as you could as you felt your release approaching.

“My good girl, my good fucking girl” he grunted, hand sliding from your waist to under your shirt, pinching at your nipple and twisting it. The sharp shooting of pain and pleasure mixed together and you felt yourself gush around him as you was thrown over the edge. Echo gasped out your name, hips stuttering a few more times before he shot his load inside of you, pace faltering as he all but collapsed over you.

“Hmm, Echo, heavy” you complained, feeling the weight of him bearing down on you from your bent position over the chair.

“Sorry, cyare” he breathed, turning you gently both around until he could collapse in his seat, pulling you with him into his lap.

You spent the next few minutes catching your breath and soaking in each other’s affection and tender touches. Both of you didn’t want to move, happy to just be in this moment with your riddur. You ghosted your fingers up and down his arm, smile plastered on your face at how boneless and loved you felt. Echo smiled into your neck from where he was whispering sweet nothings into your ear. Such a contrast to the dirty words he was using with you before.

Echo hummed against your neck, pressing a light kiss to the spot under your ear before pulling away. He caught your chin, guiding your face to meet his own. His eyes danced in amusement and exhaustion as they met yours.

“Well cyare, entertained enough?” he grinned playfully at you.

You snorted in reply, sinking back into him and closing your eyes. “For now” you teased him, feeling a rumble in his chest at your answer.

[literary-illuminati]

2025 Book Review #8 – Pushkin Hills by Sergei Dovlatov (trans. Katherine Dovlatov)

As part of my dizzying array of goals for 2025, I am trying to read more books in translation (or at least books from outside the Anglophone West). This was my start on that, a book grabbed basically at random out of the pile I have been dutifully dragged from apartment to apartment every since buying them to ostensibly read for a class a decade ago. It was not the worst thing I’ve ever read – and was interesting as a cultural artifact – but honestly the reading experience was exactly you’d expect from that rigorous selection process.

Set in the Soviet Union well into the malaise of the 1980s, the story follows Boris Alikhanov – an alcoholic, failed novelist, and recent divorcee – as a desire to get away and an urgent need for cash leads to him taking a summer job in the titular Pushkin Hills, historical rural estates converted into a museum for the famed poet. He finds the place absurd and full of artifice, and meets a cast of colorful and equally dysfunctional characters, but for a time he abstains from liquor and his life seems to be going quite well. Then his ex-wife reaches out to inform him that she is emigrating, and taking their daughter with her – from which news he never recovers, and rapidly falls into a severe and wine-slicked downward spiral.

Given the apparently quite good reputation this has as a piece of literature, I have to think that it’s been barely poorly served by the translation. Jokes being awkwardly phrased and failing to really land is a commonplace with translated works, but when as much of the book is jokes as this one, it starts to be quite actively detrimental to the reading experience. The prose was also overall blunt and awkwardly phrased in a way that I associate with bad translations. There were basically no passages where the sentence-to sentence prose stood out as beautiful, and several that were painful or confusing to read.

Which is a shame, because this is just very much a work of literary fiction in the most derogatory war – the entire book is about a failed novelist failing to get over his wife leaving him, after all. There is barely a plot and – despite what the marketing copy on the book says – every character but the protagonist is not compelling or memorable but just a caricature there to do a bit or give a speech. Some of them are interesting bits! But on balance the book lived or died on Boris’ musing and ruminating and the arc of his life. For me, it was very much ‘or died’ here.

But while this was a tedious and unemployable book qua literature, it was a pretty great primary source to transport you into the early ‘80s USSR. There is actually some fairly subtle thematic work here that I’m fairly sure mostly flew entirely over my head, but the use of the museum – full of unrelated or fraudulent artifacts on display because they’re ‘close enough’ or the tourists like them, staffed by guides who will gush endlessly about how much they adore Pushkin while giving no sign of every actually reading or knowing much at all about him beyond what’s on the tour scripts – as a synecdoche for the USSR as a whole was obvious enough for me to get it and pretty clever. The picture of a fairly foreign culture from the inside, especially when it’s of a very specific point in time, is just always fascinating as well. Though the amount of casual antisemitism – and the way the narrative treated it as a minor flaw worthy of an eyeroll more than anything else – was a bit of an unpleasant surprise. Still an educational one, I suppose.

Anyway yeah, as it turns out choosing a book for no reason but it being close at hand is not a great way to find quality stuff. But hey, at least it was short.

[petermorwood]

Crisps / Chips again

Associated with this post, here's an artefact, two anecdotes and an opinion.

The artefact is a slightly dented but still remarkably airtight "Charles Chips" tin.

It was bought, full, many years ago from the Vermont Country Store, from whom we subsequently bought reflll packs - given their size, "sacks" would be more accurate - which were shipped to Ireland in sturdy cardboard boxes.

VCS no longer carry Charles Chips in either tin or refill. I know. I checked. BUT...

The Charles Chips company, which per Wikipedia was doing just fine in 1990 then got sold and went bankrupt twice in less than three years (gosh!) is Back In Business, and note has been taken, with considerable interest - oh, you bet - that they do international shipping...

*****

Anecdote No. 1 is from when @dduane lived in Bala Cynwyd near Philadelphia, in what was known as "The House of Dangerously Single Women" (ahem). She tells me that the household used to get Charles Chips delivered to the door about twice a week, by the company's own vans.

Speaking as a long-time crisp fan, I found that both very neat and a source of mild envy. :->

Anecdote No. 2 is from 30-ish years ago, when we were in New York for something or other and, being rather jetlagged with our internal food clocks out of whack, did our usual thing and went out for a walk.

Curiously enough, this involved visiting several food stores and supermarkets where we bought a lot of Interesting Foreign or Much Missed (i.e. American, in both instances) junk food for grazing on back in our hotel room.

In one of them DD was about to lay claim to a huge bag of Wise potato chips (its bag would have been the design in the middle)...

...while nattering to one of the shop staff how much she missed them. He told her that a new delivery was expected in about 20 minutes and if she wanted to wait, she'd get much fresher chips.

And So It Came To Pass.

Well done, that guy!

*****

Finally, while Saratoga Springs may have been where potato crisps / chips were popularised, standardised, commercialised or whatever, it's definitely not where they were invented.

Even the oft-repeated "creation myth" frequently has its hard-to-please celebrity demanding to have his potatoes sliced and fried really thin "The Way I Had Them In France" - which kinda sorta suggests they were, um, being made there just like that well before the Saratoga thing happened.

Myths are okay, even marketing myths - so long as they're recognised as myths and not shilled as true by places with reputations like the Smithsonian.

*****

It's a bit like the still-current nonsense about spices being used in medieval kitchens to disguise bad meat. As far as I've been able to find out, this originated with a historian called J. C. Drummond in the late 1930s - yup, just before World War Two - simply because he didn't know his period terminology.

"Green" meant fresh - even nowadays, an inexperienced or immature person is "green" - so green cheese was newly made, and green meat was newly slaughtered, unaged and consequently tough and flavourless.

Just ask any steak fan the difference between a fresh steak and a 30-day dry aged one.

Drummond, in his overspecialised-scholarship wisdom, assumed that "green venison" meant meat which had gone off, and that a recipe to improve it with spices was to cover the bad smell and taste.

In fact it was somewhere between a marinade and a rub, meant to improve the tenderness and flavour of fresh meat as if it had aged for a while, thus shortening the waiting time between killing a beast and getting it to the table of a hungry court.

As I've said before, it's always easier for no-proofs-given pop history to dismiss medieval people as (insert derogatory observation here) than take the time needed to explain why and how they in their time were not that different to us in ours.

*****

PS: when looking for that previously posted stuff about green meat I found a post where, with even less evidence than Saratoga Springs inventing crisps, a Brit poster claimed Brits invented curry.

Snrk.

Among other more or less pertinent observations, I mentioned that what Brits invented was BRITISH curry, and anyone who has read "Nanny Ogg's Cookbook" will know what I meant by that... :->

[not-goldy]

I'm on a break but I had to jump in real quick on this

Gonna ignore everything you said bout Jungkook- cos it's not necessary. You don't have to go there. He's my bias too so you can understand why I find it offensive when you guys make derogatory comments about him. Like I'm not gonna clap for you or side with you for putting dirt on his name like be fucking for real.

There's a difference between being objective, giving constructive criticism of a person and just plain hating on someone and I'm sorry if you like Jungkook a little bit some of these comments won't fly out of your mouth nor would you entertain them.

And if you wanna get sensible words out of me avoid the triggers is all I be saying. Don't trigger me and then act discombobulated when I act crazy.

But I like what you said about Jimin....

I've been applauding Jimin's supporters since face cos yall pulled your weight and got him where he and the company hadn't contemplated going- let's get that very straight.

I said in my previous post I don't think like crazy was created specifically for a western audience. Nor was it intended to be as huge as it was.

It wasn't even his lead single yet it's his number one single💀

PJMS did too much and got him a number one on BB. BB DID NOT SEE IT COMING. THEY WOULD HAVE MOVED THE GOAL POST I TELL YA.

Yall did too much pushing his tracks to the top of charts. Yall acted as if it was a BTS come back like calm down 🤭

PJMs are soo extra🤭

But don't stop you doing amazing sweetie

They set the bar for Jimin to the high heavens. And we are hungry and wild for his success. It's cool but damn yalls appetite 🤭🤭🤭🤭

I don't think that is a bad thing. It just goes to show people are ready to support Jimin and take him to a level never seen before.

His next come back is gonna be 🔥 🔥

I mean the moment they got friends on a Marvel project I knew the Western industry thought he was on to something with his unique voice and all. Then they got him on Fast and Furious and lemme tell you that's some huge marks on his portfolio.

The portfolio this man is building is crazy!

I get all flustered and tingly thinking about what else he's gonna do and where he's gonna end up next in his career. He might have to move to Los Angeles soon cos he seem to have a place in Hollywood too the movie industry loves him🙂

If you wanna talk about the west then yea without a doubt, he is the one member who has a footing in with producers ready to work with him to make songs for their movies.

Fuck, I have a sense he's gonna cameo in a few Hollywood movies soon and he's gonna get booked to work on more soundtracks and OS for Hollywood. DAMN, IF THAT HAPPENS 😌😌😌😌😌😌

You guys need to relax, be patient and watch him.

Just watch him and don't jinx it up for him I swear to God! Yall be blocking your own blessings with unnecessary rants sometimes🙄

He's on the right track with his career. I genuinely believe that.

And I hope when he's finally ready with a predominantly English Album intended for the western market that hybe will move heaven and earth to give him the extra push and support he needs.

THEY BETTER COS WHEN I TELL YOU IT'S GONNA BE BLOODY UP IN THESE STREETS💀💀💀💀💀

And there's something about Jimin yall not realizing... those who know know.

I mean, Jimin even said it himself. he wanted an MV for every track and they shot him down....

EVERY TRACK....

THAT'S CRAZY.

And I know they shot him down, perhaps because they didn't think it was necessary for something they didn't intend to go all in on????

which is understandable but.....

We Libras are like that.

One time I set out to write a paper for a friends blog and it was supposed to be quick short and easy, but I decided to throw in a few references here and there to make it more academic and well researched- but I had to make sure it was accurate references so I hit the library. Before I knew it, I was calling up professors here and there and going all in I ended up with a 300 page dissertation and my friend couldn't use it for her blog so decided to keep it for her dissertation- so I told her I could work on a proper dissertation for her....

She said she was told she was too ambitious when she submitted it💀😬

When I get asked out for a spontaneous night out, I drive by the store to pick a new outfit and end up getting a pedicure manicure lashes silk press facials, bleach, exfoliate my butt- all for a girls night out.

Don't invite me for a sleep over cos this would be me- literally

We don't do casual so well and always end up going the extra mile and over doing things.

Oh you're sad? Don't worry. A text won't do. I'll call to check on you, email you, make a blog for you, drive by your home in the middle of the night, move into your home, get married to you, have your children, dig my own grave and bury myself next to you cos I never know how much affection is enough 😭💀

I dare you to ask me a simple question- I'll go on and on and try to cover every base and every aspect. One lecturer told me, you are brilliant Goldy but learn to limit yourself and limit the scope when answering questions- yes, I was always the student who never finished a paper on time and always run out of time cos I had so much to say and everything I had to say felt important😭😭😭😭😭

If you listen to Jimin, it wasn't even intended for set me free to be as big as it turned out to be💀💀💀

As amazing of a voice as he has, he had to request for voice training just to make sure he was on track- when I tell yall, sometimes his "shortcomings" are all in his head bless his heart😭🥲

How many times did Jungkook and Yoongi say they had to reassure him he had a great singing voice and yet those were the times he kept insisting he wanted voice training😔

Sometimes we see flaws in ourselves others don't see. Most times those flaws are as imaginary as could be. And yet we obsess over those perceived flaws and even worse, we try to fix them....

If you're someone like that sometimes it may appear all everyone does around you is shoot you down and try to bring you down- but in reality, they'd just be the ones keeping you tethered so the perfectionist or dysmophia in you don't drive you over the edge.

Not saying Jimin struggles with dysmophia of all sorts..... but he lowkey give off vibes if you know what I mean💀

All these comments about him being the triple A guy when it comes to effort, the hyungs using him as inspiration to work hard, the whole Kpop industry making him out to be the "rookie Bible" lowkey stems from over ambitiousness and innate dissatisfaction with the barest minimum- but sometimes that's all that you need to do. The barest minimum.

It took me a while to understand this and feel comfortable with lecturers and people around me telling me I'm enough and don't need to do too much all the time to feel good enough or accomplished.

One time I scored a B+ on a paper, I cut myself for not working hard enough. After bleeding it out of my system I gathered the courage to confront the teacher only to find out she had my grades mixed with someone else's 😭😭😭😭💀

I spent so much time in the study room at boarding school people called me the study room freak and I kid you not I got an award for it😭😭😭😭😭😭

I'm much much better now and can let my grammar errors fly without feeling a need to read through my writings a gazillion times. It's the Marijuana but still. It feels good to not care about anything anymore 😌

He's said he's working on his perfectionism and isn't consumed by it anymore but lowkey lowkey- we love him regardless 😭😭😭😭😭😭

Bottom line, we shouldn't confuse what happened with Face with what's happening with Jungkook.

Jimin's entanglement with the West wasn't intended at all in my opinion. It just happened. He had had Vibe and I think they just rode on the waves of the publicity from that for Set me free and Later like Crazy.

Thus he made more money spending less on advertising and marketing- comparatively speaking.

Then you have the youngest who had to sacrifice and go last after everyone- bare in mind who ever went first with their Solo had the most organic publicity because it was a new phase and all attention was on BTS since they announced a hiatus and going solo.

With little effort, that person was guaranteed to back some coins 🪙

The one to go last is relatively disadvantaged because he loses that organic attention and would require a lot of publicity to sell- but if he happens to be Jungkook then they would need to do just a little lifting because again- Golden Maknae. But imagine if Hobi were to go last- like some of yall wouldn't even care at all lets be honest which is not fair to Hobi but also the sad reality.

If I were Jungkook or Tae I wouldn't agree to go last at all don't give a fuck it's everyone for themselves💀

See this is why I wanted them all to release their albums at once. Hybe would be over stretched but then everyone would shut the fuck up. 😒

It may appear to most that the company didn't put in much effort to promote Jimin and- I understand these sentiments. I do. I just don't think it's a fair objective assessment of the situation💀

It's easy to say this wasn't treated well or that wasn't treated well when all you focused on is your bias. And I think sometimes equity prevails over equality because in as much as some went ahead of others, some already had kicked started their publicity with other collabs, some had been allotted more of the spending budget, some had high productions or low productions, they all can't get equal treatment.

Jungkook's launch is very much deliberate and well strategized too for the last debut. They took the lessons from the others launch and are trying to cover every base. He went last and so Hybe just had to make sure he went out with a bang. It be like that.

Every has to bag their coins somehow and that's all that matters.

Now that phase one is done. I can't wait to find out what they have install for phase two- I hope it's not gonna be crickets cos they all in Jail or military or whatever 😭💀

[kylo-wrecked]

[Tl;dr — this will impact my activity here but not sure how yet. ]

—personal and not so very fun ooc post and likely tmi for those I am a complete stranger to LOL. I’ve tagged a few triggers as such. And also,

There.

As of October 28th*, my partner will be moving to Singapore, and I won’t be going with them. It’s not for lack of love. My reasons are simple and pragmatic. I’m not where I want to be and a big move, while exciting, is not going to change that.

My partner, who is wonderful, hasn't been supportive in the way someone in my position needs them to be. They d o n o t know how to do it. Does that mean things are over? No, but it means they need to go back home and sort themselves because I can’t and won’t pull us both out of the well. I don’t have the bandwidth.

Idk, I went full Carmy/Donna at dinner on Sunday. That’s not a Bear S2 spoiler.

I have never done that before. It’s not good. I’m okay. It’s going to be okay, but I need to find better ways of regulating, and Wifesire needs to get out of my way. Go be free, and write, and be a monk. Let me be a mess and clean myself up again. I can’t reinvent myself with them around. They’re too precious [affectionate and derogatory].

85% sure I’m renewing the lease for this two bed in Astoria because the market is extraordinarily shitty and I’m not ready to be a burden on my brother just yet. 😬 Idk if i can pull it off alone like I did back in the days, when I lived on couches and off half a shoestring budget, but I feel I owe it to myself to try. And that’s where this week leaves me for now.

This was cathartic and I’ll probably delete this post in ~three hours. ✨✨🕊️

Edit: I’m keeping it.

[ectonurites]

What do you think about people calling Tim's character an "industry plant"? At first I thought it was just people being funny/silly, but the more I thought about it...........the more I'm starting to realize how lowkey that's true lol?

Nah, like I think jokingly it is funny but when I look at the actual definitions used for the term it really does not completely make sense imo

Like, here are the definitions of ‘Industry Plant’, due to this not being a word/phrase in regular dictionaries i’m using the wikipedia definitions here:

“Noun. industry plant (plural industry plants) (slang, derogatory) A music artist associated with a label but appearing as if they are independent and self-made.”

In-universe? No, Tim debuted as Robin, Batman’s sidekick, he did not come to be portrayed as an independent hero until after years of being a sidekick and his sidekick history wasn’t hidden. So there has always been a ‘label’ (Batman) behind him very openly, rather than Robin attempting to appear self-made.

Out of universe? Also no, this doesn’t make sense. Tim has always been very openly portrayed as a DC Character/a Batman character, these things have never been secret/kept quiet to make him seem like an indie character. There’s always been a ‘label’ (big company/far more established character) behind him very openly.

“(slang, derogatory, by extension) A music artist whose popularity is perceived to be due to marketing efforts alone.”

In-universe? Well considering the vigilantes in Gotham pretty purposefully keep low-profiles, the concept of them trying to accomplish anything via marketing efforts is… nonsensical.

Out of universe? This is where I think the strongest argument could be made theoretically, but honestly especially if we’re talking ‘his entire history as a character’ rather than just like looking at a chunk of it, I still think it doesn’t fit. Because this part of the definition works in tandem with the first part—‘this entity is secretly backed by a bigger more well known thing, thus the marketing is why they’re popular’. When the entity the character is backed by isn’t a secret connection… it’s not a ‘plant’. There’s no obfuscation. For him to be a ‘plant’ the connection to someone more known/established would need to be subtle not… like on the literal promo material:

(In-house DC advertisement for Robin Vol. 2, circa 1993)

The categorically similar term that I think is far more accurate is ‘nepo baby’:

“Nepotism baby, shortened to nepo baby, is a term referring to the children of celebrities who have succeeded in careers, usually the same, or adjacent, career to their celebrity parents. The implication is that these children are only successful because they have inside access because of their parents due to nepotism.”

In-Universe it’s a bit less so for his origin as Robin since Bruce wasn’t his parent yet at that point, but Batman was still a parent figure/a larger connection that served to introduce Robin as a hero so it works.

But out of universe? OH YEAH. WITHOUT A DOUBT. Tim’s popularity absolutely is influenced heavily by his connection to Batman, I don’t think that is something that could at all be debated. It’s true! He was marketed as such, he was introduced as such.

so in conclusion: if we’re disparaging Tim as a character for cheating his way to popularity, ‘nepo baby’ is far more accurate than ‘industry plant’

[abcd-em]

Talk Shop Tuesday: because you are a marketing girlie, eye would love your thoughts on the idea of fanfic marketability as it relates to popularity/traction. It’s one of those things that’s rarely ever gets put into words (except to be derogatory) and is undersold as a part of what makes a fic “take off” I’ve known plenty of fantastically written fics that never get their time to shine just as I’ve know abjectly terribly written things become the most kudos and recommended fic ever.

How much of marketing are /you/ thinking of, if you’re thinking of it at all, when it comes to publishing a fic?

(And bonus: what’s the reason you think your underrated WIPs aren’t doing as well as the others?)

As the second person to ask me that, of course I can!!!!!

Fandom, as with any other community on the Internet, goes through trends of what they like to see and how they like to read. I'd argue that it's impossible to truly predict when a fic will 'take off' bc of this but there's definitely things you can assume.

The marketability of a fic rarely stops me from writing what i want (obviously there are exceptions), but its something i keep in mind when planning to ensure theres little hooks here or there. There's things that I know in the back of my mind, that I know almost for certain (for my writing and what's I've observed at least):

- kid fics will do well (or more low stakes, domestic fics)

- fast paced [blank] to lovers will do well vs. A slower burn (I could say this has smt to do with fear of fic abandonment and maybe attention span)

- MCD will not (at least in mcu petermj)

- platonic or character driven stuff can be a mixed bag

- etc.

Your fandom, your tropes, the bare bones of your fic (not the actual words just the vibes/direction) can definitely have an impact on reach and inevitable audience size - not forgetting that HOW ur fandom interacts with content should be considered. Example:

My Insomniac fics didn't get many hits bc it's a smaller audience (though i tend to find more of those hits also equal comments). From that, My Peter/Harry centric fic got more engagement and interaction VS. My peter/MJ centric fic - I knew this would happen when I was writing it BECAUSE the main thing talked about after the release of the second game was Parksborn. (Understandable I was also consumed by the brainrot)

Not to get SEO about it but tags and summary are also going to impact these things. Themes and tropes all have their own popularity innit. Your tags are there to give an overview (AND WARNING!!!) about the contents of your fic. Boiling all your plans down to the right tags will help it appear to the right people that WANT that kind of story, and exclude it from others. Your summary will also help with that (and from my experience main characters & romantic hook/tease is what gets most attention). This is probably where I consider marketability the most tbh and why I struggle so much with summaries bc why am I thinking of work when I'm writing fic???

But tags and summary definitely impacted Forever: there's a big tilt towards 'sadder' tags bc I want to be transparent about the topic. And the summary is very focused on Peter and Gwen (which is why I added the little line about MJ and Peter at the end).

The focus on Peter and Gwen also impacted the divorce AU. I didn't anticipate that fic getting as much traction as it did, but It wasn't until chapter 8 or something that it really began to take off.

Also. As with anything on the Internet. There's the 'right time, right place' effect where something just CLICKS, the perfect storm of a few small things that gets swept up to huge numbers and its difficult to pinpoint a single one.

I've said it before and I'll say it again: creating content for the sole purpose of marketability will make it less fun and kill your joy

Talk shop tuesday

[dirtylilspawn]

~"Damn kitten. Don't you know it's bad luck to have a gangster fall in love with you. Ah well, no point turning back time, you're officially mine."~

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

NAME: Kazimir Petrovic

AGE: 22

BIRTHDAY: March 20th, Aries

GENDER: Male, He/Him

HEIGHT: 5'11

SPECIES: Werewolf

ETHNICITY: Russian

CAREER/JOB: Crime Mafia Boss

MAIN POWER: Probability Manipulation

PERSONALITY TRAITS: Hot-Tempered, Sarcastic, Aggressive, Witty, Lucky, Clever

TYPE OF YANDERE: The Possessive Type

VOICE CLAIM: Fyodor Dostoevsky from Bungo Stray Dogs

BACKSTORY:

At the very beginning, luck was not much on Kazimir side.

His parents marriage and his birth, were both arranged and forced. His father was the most powerful mafia boss in the underworld trade market. Their last name 'Petrovic' was feared through many cities and countries. Because they were the largest, and known to be a clan of werewolves.

But inside the Petrovic household, was nothing but fear. Kazimir was born in a abusive home, his father the main reason. He was very cruel, uncaring, misogynistic, and brutal man. Those to his subordinates and his own family.

His mother was no better. Though Kazimir had a bit sympathy towards her since his mother had been abused by his father too. But that lead to his own mother taking her frustrations out on him as well. Calling him a ugly monster, that should of never been born.

Kazimir lived in fear every single day, and it made him acted out. Whether it be starting fights in school, illegal racing, or anything he could do to erase the pain he suffered.

The only kindness he ever received living in that home was his fathers best hand man Vladimir. He was the only adult, who treated him like he was his own son. Treating his wounds, getting his presents for his birthday, taking him out to eat. He really cared for the boy, and Kaz cared for him as well.

Kazimir also had a little sister named Liliya, who is ten years younger than him. He thought he would hate his sister, but the minute she was born, he loved her very much. At birth Liliya was born with down syndrome, so he is very protective of her, shielding away any abuse his father would throw at her. Even shielding her from her mother, who would call her many derogatory words.

Liliya loved her big brother, always staying by his side.

When Kazimir was 16 his father issued an arranged marriage for him. Wanting to sell off his eldest son to another woman who was the daughter of an older crime boss, just for an alliance. He had also planned on doing this to his sister, not caring if they get abused by their spouses, or died.

When Kaz heard this idea from his father and mother in his office. He was beyond furious.

Everything went dark in that moment, as Kaz doesn't really remembered what had transpired in that moment. But the moment he woke up, he looked down to see both his mother and father torn to bits.

The ground spilling with blood. His hands face, and clothes littered with their blood. He was panting heavily, as his half werewolf form was visable.

He was scared, he didn't meant for this to go so far. But it's not like he didn't wish for it to happen. But before anything happened, Vladimir had came and saw the crime scene.

Walking over to a panicked and crying Kaz, he told him to go back to his room, and clean himself off. Telling him that he was never here, and doing so obediently he did. Washing up the blood, and staying in his room, reviewing the memories over and over his head.

Once morning hit, the house was bombarded with members of his fathers gang. He watched as they accused Vladimir of killing they're leader. He wanted to tell the truth, he wanted to say Vladimir wasn't the killer, but he didn't.

He doesn't regret killing his parents, but he does regret not saying anything to help his friend.

And now as the two sole survivor of the horrific Petrovic family "murder", Kazimir has don the mantle of the clan. As boss of the underworld.

Being in this job is a dangerous gamble, he knows this all too well. So he wonders why a soft kitten like yourself, lives in these dirty parts of the town. Looks like his luck was turning around.

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

[vulpes-nothus]

So, my only note here as it relates to the conclusion (if some chuckle fuck didn't read the whole of OPs post, go back and do that) is that the reason why D&D nerds attribute their cool story moments to D&D is entirely by design (derogatory and with vitrol.)

See, the Players Handbook has zero rules for two of three pillars of D&D: Exploration is outright fucking missing, and Role Play has some vague notes on backgrounds and even vaguer skills that are outright ignored in all the other materials, especially published adventures. Everything about interacting with the game world outside of combat has some variation of the phrase, "the DM determines what happens."

Then you open the Dungeon Masters Guide, and it's 300 pages of, "you're the Dungeon Master, figure it out." No real guidance, no real rules that aren't directly related to how magic items work, just long rambling paragraphs follwed by, "figure it out yourself, Dungeon Master." Really quite a far cry from WotCs first DMG, 3e, that had very detailed rules on how to design encounters, environments, NPCs, even building and pricing magic items and houses.

All this vaguary then feeds into WotCs extensive marketing of D&D as a flexible story telling engine that can handle anything. They accomplish this by simply refusing to put down any kind of concrete rules. Sure, combat and modules have rules in them, but that's because if they didn't have rules in them at all, then how could they have a signature D&D brand of adventure (that would sell)? And more to the point, it's much easier to write a linear series of fights that make the players feel like big, tough, nigh-immortal heroes than it is to, say, write rules for how a Bond or an Alignment might actually affect the game world in a definable, mechanical way. They might make a design choice that some customer might not like! And that customer might buy another game!

No, the Wizards of the Coast have instead opted to make a game for Everyone by just not writing down a game rule for anything other than D&D Brand Fights and Adventures. It's the emperors new clothes of game design: there's no rules that say you *can't* do that, so clearly you can at least try! Just tell the DMs they are now unpaid game designers without telling them they are unpaid game designers! Because if we have a million unpaid writers writing custom content for everyone, then it really can be a game for Everyone! And this isn't even covered up, as we have literal heard them say as much in interviews with Mike Mearls and other high ranking wotc representatives in the last year.

And to be clear, none of this is new. I got into the hobby during 3e, and saw the rise and fall of 3e trying very, very hard to be the beloved universal game system, up until it worked so well that they were "losing profits" to games that used their OGL. I saw them try to reel everything back in with 4e, copying the popular MMOs of the time to draw in the new kids while establishing Adventurers League to try and trick the grognards into thinking D&D tournaments were coming back. No one believed them, and most of us started playing Pathfinder or 3e instead. So this isn't something that came out of nowhere, but instead a deliberate design goal that can be traced across nearly 25 years of ttrpg history.

I think this is a week or two late, but there was some fantastic discussion happening on TTRPG Tumblr earlier this month about incentive systems in rpgs - @thydungeongal, @imsobadatnicknames2, and @cavegirlpoems all have good posts that you should read. I’m here though to talk about incentive systems in games more generally. I’m seeing a lot of confusion in the notes of those posts about why they’re used in the first place (and also because I’m trying to articulate my own thoughts about them! I’m still a baby designer trying to figure out how all this works).

So real quick, let’s all get on the same page. Games are a voluntary limitation of agency, right? While playing the game, participants agree that certain arbitrary actions are off limits, while other actions are desirable. Which actions are off limits and which are desirable then create a certain experience. Go Fish and Texas Hold ‘em play fundamentally differently, and create a different emotional experience in their players, despite literally using the same components. The only difference is which actions are off limits, and which are desirable. We then play those games because the emotional space that play creates is... well fun. The whole point of rules in games is to put players in a specific emotional space. 

This same idea can then be applied to more complex or thematic games. For example classic board game Clue loosely simulates the experience of being an old school mystery novel detective. It drip feeds you clues, and because the first player to correctly guess whodunit wins, players are encouraged to make their guess before they’ve mathematically “proven” the solution. Winning at Clue, then, requires some deductive reasoning skills, and when everything’s working it makes you feel like the hero in an Agatha Christie novel. That feeling is the goal of Clue’s design.

Okay, sweet, so we all agree that systems when voluntarily engaged with can create certain emotional states in the player - and those systems can be deliberately designed to invoke specific fantasies (this is what folks mean when they say “game design is real” btw!). Now I want to take a look at incentive systems specifically. So far the games I’ve used as examples all have the same, very simple incentive system: do a specific Thing and you win. Even with such a simple system, you can get a lot of mileage. Again, to win at Clue you have to name the murderer before anyone else. That “before anyone else” bit is key here. It encourages the player to be risky - to try and deduce what the other players know. That way they can make a call before anyone else has the chance to gather enough clues to solve the puzzle through process of elimination. That single incentive system contains most of the game’s fantasy. Change how you win a bit, and the game no longer fulfills its fantasy. If multiple players could win, you would no longer have incentive to make a call before you had literally all the information and therefore no deduction would be necessary. 

Now obviously “winning” doesn’t have to be the only incentive, especially as your game gets more complex. Let's take a step out of the tabletop realm for a sec (there are other board games I could use here, but all that’s coming to mind are fucking Nerd Games™ and I want to keep my examples accessible) and take a look at the most recent Legend of Zelda games. Breath of the Wild and Tears of the Kingdom have incentive systems a lot closer to your typical TTRPG than something like Clue does. Sure, there’s the main quest to win the game (kill Matthew Mercer), but that’s really difficult to do at the start. And also like... not really the fun part of those games. The fun part is exploring Hyrule. And whether you realized it or not, the Zelda designers bribed you into engaging with the fun part of their game. 

Imagine for a second if Breath of the Wild was missing its Shrines, Korok Seeds and sidequests. Literally the exact same game, same level geometry, same backstory, same enemy placement, just no rewards out in the wild. It would kind of suck yeah? You’d get tired of exploring right away, and just play it like an action game. Even if you added back in the parts of the game most of us consider fun (Shrines, Korok puzzles, actual content to find out in the wild) but withheld the rewards which make Link stronger (loot, Spirit Orbs, Korok seeds, etc), only completionists would bother doing any of that. The rewards are what lured us into the fun part of the game - without the rewards the game would have been less fun. Not only that, but it would have lost its core fantasy. It would have stopped being a game about exploring the wild, and turned into a game about killing an evil pig. All you had to change was the incentive system.

I think you're seeing how this applies to TTRPGs now. The things which make a player character stronger (that is to say, gives them more agency over the gameworld) are the things your players will gun for. A smart designer is going to make sure their incentive system rewards play which guides players to the game’s core fantasy. If your game is about being a badass monster hunter, XP for killing monsters is a fine reward structure. If the game is about making your and your friend’s OCs kiss, then you need a reward structure that incentivizes OC smooching. 

Now some of you are protesting “but my friend’s OC and my OC smooch in D&D sometimes! What gives Lucy?” What you’re doing there is called playing pretend (a fantastic pastime, this is not meant as a knock on playing pretend. I do it all the time actually), but you shouldn’t give D&D or its designers credit for that. YOU AND YOUR FRIEND are responsible for that cool story - not WotC. Take credit for the cool shit you and your friends make, don’t give it to some corporation. 

Idfk how to end this uhhhh.... Game design is really cool, and it can incentivize real neat stories when properly utilized. If you’re ignoring your game’s designed reward structure, then the cool stories that come out of it are a result of you and your friends being good at telling stories (seriously go give your GM a big ol’ hug if you haven’t already), not the game. If you are the GM and regularly ignore your game’s incentive systems, there are probably other games which better reward the style of play you want. Love yourself more than you love D&D and life is good. Or whatever

[artemisdesari-blog]

Why I Find Tauriel Problematic; An Essay On My Thoughts, Feelings, And Why Ambivalence Has Turned Into Frustration and Distaste

Although I have only been back on the fanfiction horse for about two years, and what a wonderful two years those have been, my brief stint writing fanfiction for The Hobbit has shown me a great deal about the fandom, and one of those things is that Tauriel is something like Marmite. For those unfamiliar with Marmite, it is a British salty yeast extract spread that is either utterly delicious or utterly vile depending on the tastes of the one eating it. The marketing slogan for it is “You either love it or hate it”, so even the manufacturers are aware that enjoyment of their product is a very subjective thing. Tauriel seems to polarise the fandom almost as much as said yeast extract, although there is a little more mid range ambivalence towards her as well. For me, personally, I prefer to pretend that she never existed in the movies at all, something that I will get into at a later date. That ambivalence has, sadly, shifted to distaste.

It is no secret that in popular literature and culture there is a very glaring absence of strong female characters. To the extent that when your Captain Janeways, Samantha Carters, Natasha Romanovs and so on pop up they become worth commenting on. Tolkien, of course, is no saint where this is concerned. It is glaringly obvious that for every Lúthien, Galadriel, Arwen and Eowyn there are dozens of male characters who play far greater roles in the saving of the world. In fact, The Hobbit is without strong female characters entirely, being a novel completely dominated by the male Company of Thorin Oakenshield, including the title character. Considering who Tolkien is supposed to have originally written the tale for, the source myths that he referenced and prevailing attitudes of the time, it is unsurprising. In fact, that characters like Eowyn and Galadriel pop up at all, not discounting Lúthien whose romance with Beren was said to have some inspiration from Tolkien’s own marriage, is impressive all things considered. 

With that in mind, let us consider the matter of Tauriel. She was not in the book, and while I can see why the studio wanted her added to the film they later made decisions about her which sat, and still do sit, very poorly with me. Generally speaking, as a writer, I prefer to try ignoring the fact that she exists in the movies, even if I reference the movie appearances of the dwarves to avoid writing about too many bearded males with white or blue or blond hair. If I do reference her it is usually in passing and with no intention to do anything further with her other than acknowledge that she was added to the cast. Frequently, however, I get asked the questions “Will Kíli and Tauriel be forming an attachment?”. “How do you plan to handle the romance between Kíli and Tauriel given the relationship you’ve been building with X character?”, “Why do you dislike her so much?”. I’ve even been accused of disliking her from the misogynistic view point of “the evil female who corrupts the helpless males,” which is frankly offensive and not at all the case.

To the first two questions: she is not book canon, I do not need to address the so-called romance because there is nothing in Tolkien’s canon to support her existence and thus the romance. To the last question… well, that one is a little more complicated and requires an in depth examination of her introduction, actions and interactions with Kíli, as well as his personality as established over the course of the films since we have precious little to go on in the books.

First, let us look at Kíli. He is a flirt. We know that, we see him flirting with various elves during dinner in Rivendell. Beyond that, however, we see very little of his tastes or preferences, although it is probably fair to assume that he is probably something of a romantic as well. As much as he is a main character, he is still more of a background character compared to Bilbo and Thorin. It is, after all, about the hobbit of the piece. He is young, either just about to turn 77 or not long having done so and that makes him young enough that we get the impression that he and Fíli both are still of an age where it is perfectly natural to idolise their uncle and be desperate for his approval. We see that the few times he is dressed down he feels it very keenly. We also see that he is playful and open, perhaps the most playful and open of all of them except, maybe, Bofur. He is curious, perfectly capable of giving his all when it comes to a fight and Gandalf refers to him as one of Thorin’s best alongside his brother and Dwalin. 

We also see him flip from open and loving, though perhaps infatuated is a better word, to cold and murderous in a moment, so we can probably include passionate in all things in that as well.

Now, let us look at Tauriel. Unlike Kíli, we have no set age for her. We know that she is young for an elf, but the ages given range from somewhere around 600 to 1,400. There is one quote placing her at 1,347 but it is in a sea of conflicting information. Regardless, she is young, she is idealistic and curious. She has never left Mirkwood and has dedicated much of the last few decades to attempting to curb the influx of giant spiders which are spreading from Dol Guldur while arguing with Thranduil; who wants his borders kept clear but refuses to deal with the source of the threat. An attitude not unfamiliar to many of us, sadly. She has the friendship of a prince of Mirkwood but is declared not good enough for him. Also, not an uncommon attitude in those who could be thought of as nobility.

She, like any being that has literally had hundreds of years to practice, is incredibly good with her weapons and pings and flips around like the others of her kind. Given her youth and position we can conclude that she is considered unusually skilled for her age but she still has the advantage of living forever, unless she tires of life or is killed, to keep improving her skills.

Finally, let us look at the history between elves and dwarves. It is not a pretty one. They come together for the sake of occasional trade, or to face the threat of Morgoth, and later Sauron, and their armies, but otherwise they keep to themselves. The dislike is clear on both sides and occurs well before the day Smaug arrived in Erebor, during the First Age in fact. So it will be difficult for this young pair to overcome millennia of bad feeling between their people, some of whom actually remember the events that set the dislike in stone. Legolas and Gimli are later understood to be among only a very, very, few who become close enough to be considered great friends. Much of fandom would probably cheerfully have them be a great deal more given Legolas snuck his dwarf into Valinor after Aragorn’s death.

To the shoe-horned in romance, and I do mean that in the literal sense. Evangeline Lily has been heard in interviews to say that she was wary about the fan reception of Tauriel from the start and that she signed on under the explicit understanding that there would be no romance or love triangle. And at the end of the initial shoot there was not. When they came back for studio shoots and reshoots, however, she was presented with a list of scenes that had been added and some that needed to be reshot to accommodate, you guessed it, a love triangle. She was signed in, she had taken the money, done the work and was boxed into a corner. The love triangle went in and it became the part of the films that polarises the fans the most. Besides, if we want to ship something, we do not need to have it spoon fed to us. Bagginshield is the most popular ship in the fandom and we only get the odd hint towards it here and there. Then look at the multitude of other ships. We did not need to be given something we can make up for ourselves.

That out of the way, let us look at their meeting:

The Company is beset by giant spiders, destined to be dinner, confused and disorientated and more than a little desperate, weakened due to lack of food and the weird miasma of Mirkwood which has been playing havoc with their minds. None of them are in good shape but, as they do, they fight on anyway. They need to survive and reach the mountain so that they can take back their home. Enter the elves, arrows whistling, blades crunching into thick spider exoskeletons, performing all manner of acrobatic leaps and twists to avoid getting bitten or killed. It is impressive, eye-catching even to the older dwarves, and would likely be even more so to a pair of young dwarves like Fíli and Kíli. We do not see Fíli’s reaction, he is too busy frantically looking for his missing brother who has been cornered by a spider. 

Enter Tauriel, who refuses to give him a knife to defend himself with and help her deal with the stragglers because she believes he may well be an enemy. She is, in fact, somewhat derogatory towards him. I would not say that Kíli is charmed, although he is certainly impressed, because were he charmed I do not believe he would have such a massively discontent expression on his face as she takes him back to the others. I suspect that, much like in Rivendell, he would have put more effort into turning on the charm. 

As the dwarves are led away, we get the first indication that Tauriel has noticed him; she comments that he is not entirely unattractive for a dwarf due to his lack of beard and the fact that he is tall for one of their kind. Legolas is unimpressed, but we expect that.

Once they reach the cells we see the dwarves desperately attempting to avoid being locked up. Most of them are attempting to force their way free, Fíli appears to be in the process of having yet more knives removed from his person while he huffs and sulks, and Kíli is watching as he is taken to a cell of his own. A solitary one at that. Fíli and Kíli, it could be argued, are a little bit co-dependant. Not horrendously, but they have been watching out for one another over all the rest from the start, they are brothers after all, and in the life of a dwarf five years is not all that much of an age gap. So we can assume that Kíli does not really want to be locked up on his own, he is a social person regardless it would seem and I suspect that being alone would be a special kind of torture for him. He tries stalling. 

“Aren’t you going to check me? I could have anything down my trousers.”

I’ll give Tauriel this, she is quick witted and this is possibly one of my favourite exchanges of the films. Her reply; “Or nothing” is cool, a little bit cutting and gives no indication of any sort of interest at all. If anything, she seems a little exasperated with all the fuss the lot of them are creating and she simply wants to be done with it. Away Kíli goes and off she goes to report to her king.

Who proceeds to compliment her on her good handling of things so far, order her to make it better faster, reject her proposal for exterminating the source rather than simply dealing with the fallout and then tell her that no matter what else she has done, she is not good enough for his son. Oof. She hesitates before replying, stumbles her way through a response and seems genuinely upset about it. Regardless of whether her feelings for Legolas are of friendship or if she had been hoping for a little more as well, being told something like that had to hurt.

We next see Tauriel patrolling the cells. Some of the dwarves are making noise, most seem pretty resigned, Kíli is fiddling with his promise stone. Which he promptly drops and loses through the bars, only for it to be stopped by Tauriel who demands to know what it is. As you do. Kíli, as you do, replies that it is a curse stone and any who is not a dwarf who looks upon it will suffer greatly. I forget the exact quote, I could look it up but I’m not feeling quite that dedicated to making my point here. Tauriel hesitates. I will not say that she is alarmed, she seems to take his words with a pinch of salt, but she is definitely wary and we have to remember that she is a very young elf who has spent all of her life in Mirkwood. She has not interacted with dwarves, has no reason to have done so and so she has no idea if what he is saying is true or not. And we have no idea how many of the old stories about elves and dwarves she has heard, although we know it is enough for her to have a generally low opinion of them. Her hesitation is enough to cause Kíli to come clean, perhaps fearing that she will take this precious memento of his mother from him. You can see the moment that Tauriel decides to return it, the flicker of surprise that a dwarf would mention a parent with such apparent fondness and it makes me wonder what stories she has been told about dwarves and their emotions. Regardless, she gives it back and the two begin a conversation which starts with Kíli’s opinion on starlight and moves on to become centred around Kíli’s travels. 

It is a good, safe, sensible conversation which would ring no alarm bells. In fact, the only thing that hints towards the idea that we should be looking for a romantic angle is the shot of Legolas looking down upon them with a disgusted sneer. 

This is where I began to feel uneasy with the direction the story was taking. Legolas is clearly jealous, Tauriel has clearly been hurt by the callous words of Thranduil and there was, perhaps, a little bit of flirting going on between the bars. This is Kíli after all. One thing we forget, however, is that she is his jailor. She is in a position of significant power over him. Let us flip the genders. The one behind bars is female, the one who holds the keys and is showing a marked interest in her is male. This is a familiar trope, and one which many of us shudder back from due to the power divide and the vulnerability of the female character, no matter how kind the male one seems. Why, then, do so many of us ignore the reverse scenario? Why is it alright for a woman, or elleth, in a position of power over a male, and especially a young one who might well be looking for a way out and a way to keep his friends and family safe, to pay such marked attention to a male captive?

The answer, of course, is that it is very much not alright, but we let it slide because it is not the reverse and society seems to have this thing for women in power seducing helpless males.

So, they have got their flirt on, spent an unspecified length of time languishing in the cells and now it is time to escape. The book would have us believe that they spent a month or so in the cells and rode their barrels out with relative ease. No gates, orcs, arrows or chases through the rapids. I can understand the movies needing something a little more dramatic. It would have been a dull escape otherwise, but we can already see the shift in Tauriel when the dwarves escape, even though she has known them at most a month, and the film makes it seem like they have only been in there a day or two which is what makes her actions later make even less sense than they would had she known Kíli a month. She hesitates. Her prisoners have escaped, her king is going to be very displeased, and still she hesitates.

I refuse to get into the thing with the morgul arrow, I find it very hard to believe that Sauron would have allowed the use of those and thus tipped others who were not Gandalf, Saruman, Galadriel and Elrond off to the fact that he was on the move. I am not even entirely sure they were a thing in book canon which is neither here nor there. It is believable that Kíli would have been hurt, that is a risk in every combat situation, and I will leave it at that.

The dwarves escape and head to Lake Town with Kíli in increasingly poor shape, Tauriel and Legolas take an orc to Thranduil for questioning which results in the elf king ordering the gates sealed. He wants nothing to do with whatever quarrel is between the orcs and dwarves. I hardly blame him. Legolas and Tauriel both object at different times and get shut down, and Legolas goes to obey his father’s orders, only to realise that Tauriel has already run off after this bloke she hardly knows.

I love Kíli, I do, but at this point he holds about as much of a permanent place in her life as the bloke I started to play Dungeons and Dragons with three months ago does in mine. And she probably knows him about as well as I do that guy.

She is idealistic, young, desperate to see the world. I get that. It is as good a reason as any to want to go out there and save it given that she is, to borrow from Guardians of the Galaxy, one of the idiots who lives in it. But saving the world, or that corner of it, was not what set her off in Thranduil’s throne room. Being told that Kíli was going to die slowly and painfully was. As much as the scene argues that she is going out there to save the world because she believes that they have a responsibility to do so, she has also already shown that Kíli is one of her primary reasons.

Four years ago, my then four year old, looked at this whole mess and said “But Elsa says you can’t marry a man you just met”. Where she got the idea Tauriel wanted to marry Kíli, I do not know, but that observation stuck with me. 

Anyway, because this is getting rambling, stuff happens, the dwarves have a feast, Kíli gets left in Lake Town with Fíli while the rest go on to Erebor and Tauriel fights her way into Bard’s in time to get some athelas to heal Kíli, although not without a little bit of dithering about before hand as she tries to work out what, if anything, she can do to help him. It is not the first time we see the calm, collected and confident character we were introduced to take a backseat before she pulls herself together but it is quite prominent. Kíli, while being healed, spouts off some romantic gibberish about him and Tauriel being worlds apart from one another and wondering if she could have loved him. 

It is very sweet. It is also delirious ramblings. I have said some things while feverish and sick that have had my Significant Other raising his eyebrows at me. It is not meant to be taken really seriously. For all we know, five minutes before he might have proposed marriage to Óin or been hallucinating a fight with Smaug. It is sweet and romantic, as we might believe Kíli to be, but can it be considered a true declaration?

Incidentally, this part is one of the changes that makes me really quite angry. Fíli and Kíli were always supposed to be at Thorin’s side when they entered Erebor. He leaves Kíli, and therefore Fíli, behind with barely a twitch, and callously does so after making him struggle his way to the dock and the waiting boat in front of the population of Lake Town who are waiting to see them off. It raises questions about whether the gold obsession that plagues the line of Durin had already started to set in, but I think it was a decision made to give a greater sense of peril to the scenes in Lake Town when Smaug is razing the place. 

Either way, I do not like it. 

The morning after the night before dawns, Kíli seems none the worse for wear after his near brush with death, though we know that Frodo was heavily weakened after his own such encounter in sixty/eighty years, depending on if you book or film timeline it. He is saying goodbye to Tauriel and effectively tells her he loves her by calling her “amrâlimê” which most of us here know means something to the effect of “my love”. Watch Fíli behind him, rolling his eyes and shaking his head as though this is not the first time he has seen his brother act like this. Fíli is the Darcy to Kíli’s Bingley, except maybe this time it really is not love at all and Fíli is right to be wary and frustrated. It is also the time we see Kíli go from adoring puppy to murder hound in about 0.6 seconds with the arrival of Legolas. This time he is clearly infatuated, but I would still hesitate to say “in love” for a couple of reasons. The first is that they really hardly know each other, and while love at first sight is a wonderful idea it is not necessarily the strongest foundation for a relationship. Especially one with such incredibly strong Romeo and Juliet vibes. The second is that she has saved his life twice at this point. It is a known phenomenon that when someone does such a thing gratitude can be mistaken for powerful love.

In fact, Aidan and Evangeline have both reported to have said that had Kíli survived the pair of them would have very rapidly recognised that this is not love at all. It is gratitude and infatuation and not something which could withstand the judgement of both of their peoples.

Here, they separate, and neither mentions the other at all. Tauriel is cast out of Mirkwood, Legolas vows he will not return without her which is a whole other host of problems on its own, and they go forth to Gundabad to see what the orcs are up to. 

It is bad news, but then these things usually are.

Things go horribly wrong in Erebor, words and Arkenstones are exchanged, hobbits are nearly flung from very high places and battle commences while Dwalin attempts to knock some sense into a gold consumed Thorin. You can see why Kíli will not have had time to think about Tauriel at all.

With the battle joined, it is fight or die. Kíli is unaware that Tauriel is anywhere on the field, or that there is a trap waiting for him in that bloody tower and Tauriel… well she panics. Seeing that Thranduil is intending on withdrawing for the good of his people she stands before him and pulls a weapon on her king demanding that he stay and fight and help the dwarves. If not for the fact that Legolas comes and takes her toward Ravenhill I think Thranduil probably would have crossed a line into kinslaying right there and then. There is only so much disobedience and, frankly, treason one can endure from a subject before something more permanent needs to be done about them.

They get to the tower, Fíli is already dead and Kíli is desperately trying to hold his own against an ambush so that he can avenge his brother. And Tauriel, for some unfathomable reason, races through a tower full of orcs screaming his name. That… that is not how you do these things. At all. By doing that you draw the attention of every creature that is currently free to track you down and kill you. 

Moving on.

Watch them fight against Bolg together. They do not do it well. Kíli is fabulous next to Fíli, and probably Thorin and Dwalin and any other dwarf for that matter. He probably would not do too badly with one of the Men beside him but the elvish style of combat and the dwarf style are very different and it does not mesh well for these two who barely really know each other. Legolas and Gimli fight in many of the same battles, but rarely side by side and they are certainly more in tune with one another than these two are. In this case, Tauriel is definitely panicking and I wonder if she would have done the same if it had been Legolas she was fighting with. 

Somehow I doubt it.

Anyway, eventually they are overwhelmed, longing looks are exchanged and Kíli is killed. Tauriel breaks down to Thranduil who declares that it was clearly real love.

I just, there is so much wrong with this I hardly know where to start. 

A lot of time is dedicated to this addition. It drives a wedge between Thranduil and Legolas that we had no reason to suspect existed, it deprives him of one of his loyal guards and it does absolutely nothing at all to affect the outcome of the quest for Erebor in a positive way. It adds nothing to Kili’s death, it does not make it any more of a tragedy than it is in the book. In fact, if anything I think it takes away from it a little bit. For those not in the know, in the book Thorin is felled on the field, fatally wounded by Bolg who is then crushed to death by Beorn. Fíli and Kíli, who do not wish to see their uncle’s body taken and desecrated, and likely hoping that there was some small chance he could be saved, fight over him as guards until they are overwhelmed and die side by side before help can come. It is, ultimately, a terrible waste of their lives. Thorin lives long enough to apologise to Bilbo in one of the healing tents, much as he does on the side of the mountain in the film, and then he dies. 

So Tauriel has made no positive impact upon the outcome, it could be argued that her moment of hesitating to threaten Thranduil could have been the moments where she and Legolas might have reached the tower fast enough to save possibly Kíli, perhaps even Fíli, we will never know. What we do know is that the addition of the love triangle added extra time which could have been given to any of the rest of the Company, most of whom were given very little at all to do other than carry on in the background. We could have spent more time with Bilbo, who got shunted aside for the Legend of Legolas parts and, of course, the love triangle additions. We did not even get the funeral in the theatrical release!

It seemed to primarily be, well, filler. And the studio’s bizarre opinion that they were not going to get female viewers if they did not stick some form of romance in there. It seemed to almost be an attempt to mirror the Arwen, Aragorn, Eowyn triangle from the Lord of the Rings, except they missed the mark there spectacularly. Arwen knew very well what she was giving up in marrying Aragorn, and she ultimately made the same choice that her uncle had made thousands of years before as had her very nearly ultimate grandmother (bar Melian) before that. Tauriel could have had no concept at all of what she might have been tying herself to. And that does not even get into the political ramifications of it had Kíli survived, or if he and any one or both of Fíli and Thorin survived. 

This next is, of course, speculation, because we have no real way of knowing. 

Tauriel has sacrificed everything, her home and position for some dwarf she hardly knew. They think it is love, but in the coming weeks with Kíli dedicated to the mountain, whether alone as king or with his uncle and/or brother, distance begins to grow. Tauriel is an elf, she may have fought in the battle but she is still not completely trusted. Rumours from those who might have seen her interaction with Thranduil during the battle start to surface. Kíli might overlook them for himself, but could Thorin or Fíli? If they were to send Kíli to do something that Tauriel would not like, could they trust her not to do the same to them as she did to Thranduil? She owes them even less loyalty than she did him and she threw it all to one side in a heartbeat. If Kíli is the only one of the younger two who survived, where does that leave the succession? If he and Tauriel cannot have children together the throne is not secure, even if they could with all the millennia of bad blood between elf and dwarf will the general populace really accept a half elf on the throne? Especially one who might live forever. The answer there is very likely to be no, which will cause more problems further on and puts Dáin and later Thorin III Stonehelm on the throne again. So there was no point saving Kíli if the original timeline would come to pass anyway, if with a few more hurdles and a heap more unrest thrown in. In other words, it would cause a lot more contention than it would solve.

If they did grow apart, as the actors have stated they would, I think Tauriel would have come to resent Kíli for his role in her decisions, even though she was a grown elleth and perfectly capable of reasoning out possible consequences for herself. Evangeline says that Tauriel went back to Mirkwood after the battle and I suspect Thranduil forgave her out of pity and because he knew she had learnt a terrible lesson. I doubt, though, that she ever regained his trust, and I very much doubt she ever rose to any real position within the kingdom again. If Kíli had not died, I suspect her reception would have been less forgiving and more in the nature of “well if it isn’t the consequences of your actions” before being thrown from her home in disgrace.

Either ending is unhappy for her.

This whole diatribe actually makes it sound like I quite like the character, and there are some small parts of her that I do like. The film needed a strong female character, and this is perhaps one of the reasons that one of the more popular genderbends in the fandom is female Bilbo. Because either way, the story still works. And all the initial stuff with Tauriel worked. Her early interactions with Kíli, that snappy comeback which is actually a favourite because as a response to someone intending on unsettling her it is perfect, even that little bit of wanderlust that she lets seep out. Where it falls apart, and where my dislike stems, is the introduction of the love triangle, the huge power imbalance between them when it begins in the dungeons of Mirkwood, the fact that gratitude and love are allowed to blur over the line with no one questioning it. Except, perhaps, Fíli, who is the long suffering older sibling accustomed to his brother becoming infatuated with this or that pretty face or great warrior.

Had it been left at the wanderlust and the whole bit with the delirious confession been done away with, she could have still been great. Had she kept her head a bit better upon seeing Kíli fighting Bolg or even had a material effect on things for good I could possibly, possibly have overlooked how it all began. But that moment in the cells set my squick metre off and coloured my opinion of it from there. And even repeat watching has not helped me to see it in a positive light. It was filler, time wasting, and I find it hard to like a character who was introduced as someone that girls could look up to, and who became, instead, every cliché female love interest that I feared she would. They set her up, let her and us down, and as a result I prefer to pretend she never existed, or gloss over her entirely. 

And because people are always asking me what my problem with her is I’ve grown to despise her. 

Kíli is a grown dwarf, he is perfectly capable of making his own decisions and thinking for himself. Tauriel does not manipulate him into having feelings for her, she seems to be made uncomfortable by the confession in fact, but just as he is capable of thinking for himself, so is she. And I question every decision she made from the moment she locked him behind those bars, because that is where the Tauriel that Kíli met in the spider’s nest begins to vanish. 

She could have been a great character and she did not need a love interest, or to become one, for that to happen. The studio handled her poorly, and that is why I would prefer to ignore the fact that she, and that stupid love triangle, ever existed.

[hopetofantasy]

Culture, parallels & meta - S3 E1

Previous season Prologue: Vlogs (1) - Vlogs (2)

°

Zaterdag 21:43

The time lapse already showing us a string of places that will be important later, like the dark alley, the Meir with Noor’s workplace, the university neighborhood, the Scheldt river where the boys hang out, ...

Perfect parallel: 

The second season starts Zoë’s POV with a (washing machine) door, whilst the third opens with a door to a party that Robbe attends.

Robbe glances back at Noor passing through the shot this episode, an action he repeats when he spots Sander in the second episode. - A very subtle hint to where his love life may lead.

The first one starts with two unknown LGBT+ girls kissing at a party, the last episode shows two known LGBT+ boys (Sobbe) kissing at their own party.

The aerial shot through the floor to introduce us to Robbe’s POV here and the aerial shot through the roof to say goodbye to him in the last episode.

Moyo saying “No one would do you” to Aaron in this episode, Aaron realizing “No one here wants to do me!” in the last.

Where’s Wally? Noor greeting Marie, accompanied by Jana and Britt. Max dancing with Keisha in the crowd.

How ‘meta’ of you: Newsflash, yes you are!

Nod to the OG: 

The deliberate messy POV: following everyone that we know already and then slowly settling on the Isak version in a tub.

Robbe saying Noor looks like ‘Natalie Portman’, which is what people said to the OG Emma when they flirted with her. Everyone, except Isak, that is.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Moyo keeps pressuring Robbe into explaining what type of girl he likes. The boys laugh it off when he answers that ‘he doesn’t have a type’.

Lost in translation: Moyo mocks Noor’s Dutch accent, making his ‘g’ and ‘st’ sound harsher, while also adding ‘hoor’ at the end - a typical word used by the Dutch to emphasize a point.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Jens is playing with the weed bag. Keisha is one of the girls that Moyo mentions as Jens’ ex-girlfriend or ex-fling. Not only did Noor nót flush the toilet, but she didn’t used any toilet paper either!

°

Zaterdag 22:44

C is for culture: 

Noor rescuing Robbe on her scooter - In Belgium, you’re allowed to drive a moped or scooter once you’ve reached the age of 16. Nothing is needed if the vehicle doesn’t go above 25 km/h. If it stays between the range of 25-45 km/h and max. 50 cc, you need to pass a theoretical exam, 4 hours of driver’s ed and a practical exam to get the license. Anything other than that, has a whole new set of restrictions, types of driver’s licenses and minimum ages.  Noor and Robbe are, however, still breaking the law. As long as you’re not 18, you’re not allowed to have an extra passenger with you. Especially if they’re not wearing a helmet. (Plus they ignored a red light. Those rebels!)

“You do know that you always have to have it with you?” - The Belgian law states that everyone above age twelve, has to get an ID to identify themselves. Some might have had a Kids-ID already - for travel purposes - but that’s not mandatory. However, once you're fifteen years old, you’re obligated to carry your ID with you at all times.

Perfect parallel:

Luca being all jealous whilst staring at Noor and Robbe making out in S3, her glaring at Maud and Robbe every chance she got in the last season.

Robbe and Noor having fun on the scooter while screaming and Robbe filming their adventure in this episode. Robbe and Sander doing a similar thing, but on their bikes in a later episode.

Wink to other remakes: Robbe sporting a brown jacket. (Eliott, anyone?)

Surprise bitch, guess who: It’s Willem Chanterie, the on-set costume designer and social media production assistant!

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Noor has a ‘Fuck Trump’ sticker on her helmet. Robbe says “Hey, it’s red” in a very clear Antwerp accent. 

°

Zaterdag 23:11

Hello from the outside: The garbage truck they sprayed, still drove around the city regularly. The art piece itself is named ‘#Genoeg mama' (= ‘#Enough mommy’). It blames the consumer society as toxic, making young people its victim.

Oopsie: Inside the graffiti den, Noor suddenly sports a tote bag with supplies, even though we never saw her wearing that in the previous shots.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Noor has black combat boots. The photographer is obviously Sander, in case you have missed that subtle clue.

°

Zondag 13:41

Lost in translation/Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: 

“Check die pekie’s”. The word ‘pekie’ is actually Amsterdam slang for ‘beautiful girl, girlfriend’. In recent years, more and more Dutch slang are making their way into the Flemish dialect, because of the Dutch rap songs gaining popularity with the youngsters.

“Vamos, flikkers”. The word ‘flikkers’ can mean ‘wussie’ as well as a derogatory term for ‘homosexual’. Again establishing the fact that the boys use a lot of homophobic or toxic words for each other.

Robbe’s clumsiness meter: +1, him tossing the bag behind Jens instead of into his hands.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: There is a football right next to the skateboards.

°

Maandag 16:04

C is for culture: “The whole art school was talking about it” - 

Secondary school is divided in four sections: general, technical, art and vocational. Which section you choose can have effect on further education. In one of these sections, you pick what you want to study from your first to last year (‘directions’). That means that you have some courses purely focused on the direction and others that are obligated for everyone, regardless.

Art high schoolers can choose to go to work or study a specialization afterwards. Their coursework isn’t solely art based, there are general required courses too. That’s why some foreigners - including the Dutch - come to Belgium, since they’ll get a more rounded and higher level of art education than in their countries. ‘de!KUNSTHUMANIORA’ is the high school in Antwerp Noor goes to and is known for having students with unique styles.

Perfect parallel: 

Noor waiting outside the school for Robbe and him reacting somewhat confused here, Sander doing the same and having an instantly happy Robbe in a later episode.

Robbe having no problem kissing a girl ‘as a straight guy’ in front of the gates in this episode and scared for what might happen if he kissed a boy ‘as a gay guy’ later on. 

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The insta caption underneath the art work says ‘An inspirational message on a Sunday! Just discovered this in Antwerp city today. Artist unknown... Can you remember when you last called on your mother?’ (That last sentence, oooofff, the symbolism!)

°

Dinsdag 14:57

C is for culture: 

“Yes, mini enterprises are so chill.” - Mini enterprises are often used as a tool for Economics in the fifth/sixth year. The goal of these is to ‘learn whilst doing it’. Like the name specifies, mini enterprises are actual miniature companies set up by a group of students. During the school year, they’ll try to work together on commercializing a product. All aspects of entrepreneurship are at play here: writing a business plan, holding meetings, doing bookkeeping, marketing the product, produce and sell it, ... If the enterprise idea is good or well executed, it might even win a national prize by the company making this education formula.

“What if he contacts child protection services” - Actually, those services doesn’t really exist in Belgium. There are, however, other youth organizations for these types of things, like JAC - Youth Advice Centre, CLB - Centre for Student Guidance and the Centre for Mental Healthcare.

Perfect parallel: The boys hyping Aaron up to walk over to Amber and talk to her - yet he fails in this episode, them doing the same and he succeeds (after some fails) in the last episode. 

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Jens saying “Damn, seems like someone is on his fucking period”, after Robbe snaps at him due to the difficult telephone call with his dad.

Lost in translation: Jens saying “Mijn kop staat er niet naar” (= “My head’s not standing there”) can actually mean different things: I’m not in the mood, it’s not the right time, I don't want to do it, my head’s all over the place, ... It depends on the context, on which interpretation would suit the situation the best. 

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The girls are all fawning all over Britt’s cellphone, so there is a good chance that they’re discussing (pictures of) her boyfriend, Sander. Also, Jana’s braces are gone! 

°

Donderdag 17:13

Perfect parallel: Robbe stating that he can’t talk to his dad or he’ll fight and Zoë getting that, as she said a similar thing to an understanding Senne about her parents in S2. 

How ‘meta’ of you: Ah, yes, fandom ship names in SKAM. We applaud!

Oopsie: If you look really hard, you see that the body type and hair of Robbe’s dad, doesn’t correspond with the version waiting at the restaurant later on.

Wink to other remakes: This shot reminding you of a certain S3 trailer?  👀

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: The numerous references to Zoënne’s relationship in their room (relationship pics, Senne’s guitar). The paper Milan gifts to Robbe is the written permission by his parent to live with them, as is obligated by law.

°

Vrijdag 20:04

Perfect parallel: 

Senne pulling Zoë up after a kiss here, just like with their first kiss in S2.

Robbe pushing Milan away after thinking he wanted to kiss him at the party in S2, them hugging it out in after talking about it in S3.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Zoë and Milan making some healthy party snacks like cauliflower and cocktail sauce, cheese with tomatoes and salami squares. She pulls back the bottle of gin that Milan wants to steal. Senne also bought paprika and tortilla chips from Colruyt (a discount store).

°

Vrijdag 20:54

C is for culture: “Noor, Robbe’s girlfriend” - (Teen) dating culture is different in Belgium. Usually, if you have kissed, hung out, texted or just said/did something to show your mutual interest, you’d pretty much consider yourself in a relationship. It can go from 0 to 100 very quick. Unless there is, of course, an agreement that what you’re doing is no such thing. Also, nobody really ask you to be their gf/bf. It just implied or stated to their family or friends. 

Perfect parallel: 

A reluctant Robbe pushing himself to do stuff to Noor (playful dancing, kissing, riling her up) as far as putting his hands on her bra here. A totally different, excited Robbe not even thinking twice about doing these things to Sander, even licking his nipple during their reunion.

Noor pushing Robbe on the bed and climbing over him, whilst Robbe looks all sad in this episode. Him pushing Sander on the bed and being happy as Sander crawls over him during their reunion.

Oop, there it is, the homophobia / heteronormativity: Robbe tries to convince himself into liking heterosexual sex with Noor and fake laughs with his friends about having it.

Where’s Wally? Keisha laughing with Amber and later dancing with Marie.

Blink-and-y’ll-miss-it: Jens is talking to Senne. The decorations behind Milan saying ‘Welkom Robbe’ (= ‘Welcome Robbe’). Noor has a beautiful tattoo of a pin-up girl covered with butterflies on her lower arm.

[hsu-liangyu]

“Orientalia”: White Fascination and Nostalgia for China and the Orient

4/11/2021

Denver, CO

CW: Racism, anti-Asian and anti-Chinese sentiment, violence/sexual assault

Preface:

Today was certainly a day. I’ve been on a cross country trek, which I’ve come to call “The Great Journey East”, where I’m driving from my home in the Seattle area to Portland, Maine to ply my usual trade, working aboard some traditionally rigged sailing vessels that operate from the Maine State Pier. I’ve most recently arrived in Denver, CO, after a tumultuous night of camping in un-ideal circumstances on the shores of Great Salt Lake in Utah. I decided to treat myself to a middling hotel downtown to try to affect an aura of urban tranquility before I head out for Wichita in the morning, and then on to see my mother’s family in Oklahoma. The drive thus far has been marked by astounding natural beauty, kind people, and a long series of audio books that I’ve only just begun to make a dent in. I began this journey listening to “Tribe” by Sebastian Junger, which I found to be extremely interesting and helped some of my own understanding of how society today does not serve the community, and how we may one day return to a society where the people come first, as opposed to the individual. After finishing Mr Junger’s audiobook, I turned my ears to a tome that I have put off reading for a long time: “The Chinese in America: A Narrative History” by Iris Chang.

Listening to this audiobook over the last few days, which begins in Qing dynasty China and ends in the modern day, I can say a great many things. I can say that I deeply feel the experiences that were collected by the author and compiled into this book, not only on an intellectual and emotional level, but on a spiritual level. I can say that, despite years of my own research into my familial experiences and the experiences of contemporary Chinese Americans, my level of knowledge was severely lacking, even though I considered myself to be a relatively robust lay-scholar on the topic. I can say that the experience of we Chinese Americans, foreign and natural born, has changed very little in our time here. While circumstances change from person to person, family to family, and era to era, we are all bound together in trends that have haunted our communities, not unlike the tigers that have stalked southeast Asia for time immemorial, striking out when least expected.

All of that, however, is a surface level understanding. Those realities are the first few layers of a complicated and long history of horrific, violent, brutal, and inhuman oppression in the United States.

I began this audiobook believing that I knew most of what I needed, enough to enlighten the odd person in online discourse, or conversation over dinner. Enough to tell-off the casual bigot that accused me and other Chinese people of overblowing our racial, social, and economic anxieties while making them look a fool. I realized very quickly that while I was not wrong in my knowledge, my staunchly anti-racist rhetoric, or my suspicious attitudes towards the US government and law enforcement, I was missing so much of the story. I was not missing the statistics or the legislative history: I was missing word-to-paper stories of my ancestors -- our ancestors -- and the cold, hard, and hellacious reality that they faced when they got here. These realities may have differed from generation to generation (the Chinese washer-man and washer-woman, miner, and restaurateur of the 19th century was faced with markedly different circumstances from the Chinese who fled WWII, the PRC, or settled in other areas of the world during the diaspora), but they are cold and hard, none-the-less.

I have cried more in the last three days than I think I have in the last three years. My heart hurts for our ancestors, our elders, our parents, our siblings, our uncles, our aunties, and our future children as we exist in a country that has committed nearly every atrocity it could think of to rid us from their stolen land.

This was the state of being I’ve come to Denver with. Finally in the privacy of a hotel room, I showered and talked with my partner. She found a book today, written by the child of white missionaries who fled China just before WWII, that was a compilation of “Oriental” inspired needle-work patterns. She shared the preface of this book with me, which I found to be incredibly alarming, and has prompted me to write on the subject of “Orientalism”, the exotic, and how the experience of white Europeans and Americans in China was vastly different from the Chinese people. Out of respect for the author and their work, which I believe was written as an honest tribute to Chinese culture and its influence on them, I am choosing to omit the author’s name and the title of the book in question. While some may see this as underhanded, I am choosing to do so because I do not wish to wage a war of rhetoric with an author who I have very little personal knowledge of, because I believe it is unethical of me to do so.

However, I will be addressing some problematic concepts that are present in the preface of this book, as they are worth speaking about as we attempt to further society’s collective understanding of differential experiences between people and people groups.

Thank you for reading on, as well as for reading my preface. The following issues are things that I have struggled with for a long time, and I hope that my words bring you additional perspective on Chinese American issues.

“The Orient, the Oriental, and Orientalia: A Curious Lens of Exoticism Riddled with Racism”

Today, I saw a word that I had not seen in a very, very long time.

As most any Asian person will tell you, the words “orient” and “oriental” are generally unwelcome descriptors of Asian people and culture. These two descriptors are applied to clothing, architecture, pottery, art, furniture, cookware -- the list keeps going. I often joke to those who use these words, “what am I, a rug to you?”, which normally drives the point home in a friendly way They are both hangers-on from an era that we’d best leave in the past. An era where the Occident and the Orient were opposites of one another, incompatible, and fundamentally in conflict. The two terms saw relatively common usage in the 19th century, and many Euro-Americans considered “the orient” to be interchangeable with “the far east” while the occident was a catch-all word for Euro-American civilizations ranging from western Europe to the New World. It could be said that the Occident and the Orient began as harmless descriptor words that only communicated a vague notion of differences between cultures, they were rapidly weaponized as anti-Asian, especially anti-Chinese, sentiments began to flare in the western world. Imperial Germany used the two terms to great affect, framing the differences between the Occident and the Orient to be far more than cultural and societal. It was a matter of life and death.

The Occident was the pinnacle of industrialized civilization. It was moral and upright, beholden to the Christian god, supported by the titans of industry, government, and cutting-edge military technology. The Orient was backwards, overrun with dirty Chinese heathens who constantly lied, cheated, and stole from the superior whites. The Chinese were looking to enslave white women, turning them into sex slaves or take them as wives so that they could propagate a wretched half-breed race that would overrun the world and mark the end of all Occidental civilization.

This rhetoric was incredibly powerful, and one only needs to look at early anti-Chinese political cartoons and articles to see these words used in incredibly derogatory ways. The other side of the Orient/Oriental dichotomy was steeped in foreign luxury and exoticism, which served to peak the interest of wealthy whites that bought up all kinds of Asian furniture, clothing, fabrics, cookware, and art from unscrupulous dealers and certifiable importers alike. Affluent white women of the 19th century are well-documented as being deeply invested in luxurious goods imported from “the Orient” and marketed as “Oriental” or “Orientalia” to garner societal notoriety, whereas their fathers, husbands, brothers, and sons would have dressing gowns, cravats, and handkerchiefs created out of fine imported silk. All of these goods were considered exotic and other-worldly, which is not a debased outlook for the time, considering that so few westerners had actually managed to travel in the vicinity of China, let alone disembark in one of the few official trading ports open to European traders. This fascination with all things Chinese, entirely divorced from the reality that many Europeans and Americans viewed the Chinese as grave existential threats to white civilization, is not without irony.

While Chinese peasants and workers died in droves from starvation, disease, localized conflict, or at the hands of white Europeans and Americans acting with impunity in a country that was barred from holding them legally accountable for their actions, cargo hold upon cargo hold of Chinese goods were exported for consumption by westerners. These westerners had military and diplomatic presence in China, especially in the mid to late 19th century, often seizing prime real estate in Chinese port cities for international settlements where it was the westerners, not the Chinese, in charge. These ostentatious settlements, coupled with missions run by Christian organizations from all over the western world, exercised great influence with local Qing dynasty officials, and western nationals all throughout the southern coast of China were free to use and abuse the Chinese around them as they please. These prosperous settlements, a highly visible and permanent show of colonization and foreign aggression, were made so by the labor of Chinese workers and peasants. The same workers who were forced into horrific working conditions in and around the settlements while western nationals were free to treat them as they please with no repercussions, ever for outright murder. Any fascination with the Chinese lifestyle, manner of dress, and other items that could be quickly imported to the west as exotic tokens of the Orient was inherently divorced from the horrific reality of daily life within China, and was nearly always a fascination that arose from social tiers that could afford to be ignorant of those realities while directly benefiting from them.

“Orientalia and the Noble Savage”

The westerners’ fascination with all things Orientalia outlines another phenomenon present in the west’s view of China in the 19th and 20th centuries, an phenomenon that Americans are familiar with as it is applied to Indigenous peoples in North America: the Noble Savage.

The Noble Savage idea and stereotype found quick traction with American colonists as they fought to drive out Indigenous peoples from their ancestral lands all over North America. These Indigenous groups, savage as they were perceived to be, were often regarded as principled and noble in their way of life, whether that was seen in their treatment of the lands, natural resources, their art and craftwork, their societal structure, or in how they treated white settlers when they were taken prisoner. While all of this talk of nobility betrayed the slimmest undercurrents of admiration from white settlers towards Indigenous peoples, the second word of the phrase was integral to its application: Savage. Despite these noble ideas and practices, a savage is a savage is a savage. This two-faced admiration served only one purpose -- to communicate the slightest inkling of fake remorse in widespread acts of genocide against people that white settlers hated and chose not to understand.

For the Chinese and Chinese Americans, the idea of the noble savage is easily translated. While Indigenous peoples in North America had a comparatively low level of technology to Americans, the same could not be said of the Chinese. Despite lacking robust gunpowder arms and other advanced forms of military technology, the technological prowess of the Chinese people was without doubt. Massive cities, sprawling agriculture, advanced irrigation, roads, palaces, and so much more was plainly evident to any westerner who arrived on Chinese shores (the same can be said of Indigenous populations throughout the Americas despite the prevailing myth of "primordial wilderness" perpetuated by white settlers) . Despite the different perspectives that westerns had between the two groups, westerners applied the Noble Savage ideal to the Chinese just as quickly and easily as they did to the Indigenous peoples across the oceans.

While the Chinese were obviously proficient in architecture, engineering, and in art, many westerners were quick to follow up any admiration of their eastern counterparts with staunch, racial criticism, highlighting their savagery in their daily lives such as gambling, long fingernails, or their seemingly archaic dress. Much of the criticism leveled on the basis of savagery had to deal with the assumption that Chinese men would, without hesitation, steal from white men and kill them, while selling white women into slavery. And while this was based in very loose reality (the triad societies of Canton did, indeed, participate in the sex trafficking of Chinese women to California and the Coolie trade that sent enslaved Chinese men to work on plantations in South America), the fears were stoked by ferocious anti-Chinese rhetoric in Europe and America.

The Chinese who emigrated to America were seen no different, and while public opinion waxed and waned, it was always understood that the Chinaman was a noble savage at best, and the earthly embodiment of evil at his worst. While modern Chinese and Chinese Americans may not be subject to the Noble Savage ideas from two centuries ago, it is not uncommon for Americans, especially white American youths, to take this idea as gospel, tormenting their Asian classmates throughout their formative years.

“China’s Sorrow: Nostalgia for a China that did not exist”

(As a forewarning, this the section where I may become quite emotional.)

Something that I encountered today was nostalgia. Not my own nostalgia, but the nostalgia of an author who grew up in a mission or international settlement in pre-WWII China, and fled from the country just before Pearl Harbor. This author, who shall remain nameless for the reason I stated in the preface of this essay, spoke highly of China’s sights and sounds, the people, the food, the craftwork, and of their pleasant life as the child of white missionaries in China. They spoke on how the pace of life in China was different than America, and that they much preferred the comforts of life in the Orient, surrounded by Oriental people and objects, enamored with Orientialia well into their adult life.

I found this passage to be absolutely appalling. I understand that I may be picking the wrong fight here, but this is my emotional response to an issue that I have found difficult to articulate that managed to, somehow, someway, manifest succinctly in the preface of a book that I randomly encountered. I lay my thoughts here:

White missionaries in China lived privileged lives, much like the other westerners that inhabited international settlements all throughout the major cities of the country. Missionaries, like the other westerners, were an extremely privileged class, living privileged lives in a country that was being torn apart by colonization, internal strife, famine, disease, and violence. While the average Chinese peasant in late Qing, early republic-era China had to contend with the daily realities of starvation, material scarcity, and the reality that a western could beat them or kill them and face no legal consequences for that action. Merchants were forced to deal with countless one-sided trade and land treaties, while government officials struggled to keep the country together, if they weren’t themselves contributing to the horrendous reality. Life in international settlements for western nationals is often reminisced upon as idyllic, quaint, and prosperous, which paints a stark contrast to their Chinese neighbors’ experiences. The westerners were off-limits, exempt from legal prosecution, and largely able to conduct themselves as they saw fit, even when their conduct directly endangered Chinese lives.

Meanwhile, outside of these international settlements, war ravaged the country. When the Qing dynasty fell and the Republic of China was established, the country fractured. The nationalist government was constantly at war, sometimes with itself, sometimes with bandits and warlords, sometimes with organized crime, and most of all with the Chinese Communist Party. The Koumintang government, in the wake of Sun Yat-sen’s death, saw Chiang Kai-shek seize power. The Japanese began to aggressively push their borders into China, fighting with superior military technology and training while the national army faltered from unwilling conscripts led into disastrous battles by inept, corrupt, and tyrannical officers. The CCP fought a guerilla campaign against the KMT that further muddied the conflict, with innocents caught between two radical and violent sides while Japan tightened the noose. Communist and Nationalist fought together against the Japanese one day, and may have fought against each other the next.

While the country was torn apart, the westerners in international settlements were unconcerned with the wars raging across the land. They continued to live their idyllic lives until the war was literally at their doorstop -- only then did they become concerned with the plight of the Chinese people.

Only then did the westerners in international settlements care for the circumstances of the average Chinese peasant in the countryside or worker in the city. They could bear no concern while they benefited from cheap Chinese labor, horrific working conditions, or while some of them got away with murder. They could bear no concern while Europe and America colonized China and ransacked the economy. And they could bear no concern for the Chinese being tortured, beaten, raped, and murdered in the countryside, far from their gates, until it was on their doorstep.

The nostalgia that some westerners feel for China, a China that existed before the chaos of the 1920s onwards, is propped up by lives of privilege and white-washed memories that ignore the struggle of the Chinese people right under their noses.

They feel nostalgia for a China that did not exist, because the one that existed was destroyed in part by their international settlements and the colonization efforts of their home countries.

This nostalgia for a China that was at least slightly better than the chaos of the 1920s through the 1940s, or better than the Cultural Revolution, or better before Tiananmen Square exists also within the Chinese immigrant community. But this nostalgia strikes in a way that the other does not.

While the westerner who lived in an international settlement may be able to intellectually sympathize with the Chinese experience during this tumultuous time, it is the Chinese themselves who bear the actual scars. Many of our elders long for a prosperous China as well, but there is a key difference in this: our elders, our family, sometimes we ourselves, bear the scars of the past. Our nostalgia is momentary, continuously shattered by the very real heartbreak that the Chinese and Chinese American community has been subject to over the last century. While circumstances and perspectives differed, the China that some of us long for is just as much a painful sore on our souls as it is a pleasant memory. The pain, the loss, the grief, anxiety, and struggle.

It is a nostalgia for our ancestral land that cannot be found anywhere else, as precious as it is painful.

Hsu Liang Yu

[littlyon]

I would love to hear your rant about your hatred for the concept of literature

Okay. So here’s the thing about literature and why I hate the concept of Literature with a capital L. Bear in mind this is an American perspective.

Generally speaking, when your average Joe talks about “literature”, they’re referring to the material that was taught in high school: old, dry, pretentious, written by middle-aged white men, etc. Now, that’s not always the case anymore (for instance, we read The Hunger Games and The Book Thief in a couple of my English classes, both modern), but even so, the general cultural understanding of literature derives from what people are taught, which tends towards that type of content.

When you get into higher academic circles, the concept is even more solidified. There is so much criticism and theory out there about what Literature is, and what qualifies as Literature, and there’s an incredible amount of shame leveraged towards people who argue against what’s been normative over the past century. Think about how much vitriol the Twilight fans got, or the embarrassment at admitting you read fanfiction in non-online circles. A lot of that is sexism and homophobia, since society in general really doesn’t like it when media is aimed at women or queer people, but those societal pressures are part and parcel with how we define Real Literature. 

Academia overall is a male-dominated and male-created field. What is canonized as Real Literature by the literary field is largely material that appeals to that demographic. Books written by straight white men about straight white men are the most prominent (i.e. Catcher in the Rye, The Great Gatsby). Works predating 1900 come next (i.e. Jane Austen). Following that come works by marginalized groups about being marginalized (Toni Morrison, Maya Angelou, etc). 

That’s not even getting into genre; it’s very rare to see anything other than realistic or historical fiction considered Literature, unless it’s suitably old. Aasimov and Heinlein count, Tolkein sometimes counts, Dracula and Frankenstein count, but modern scifi and fantasy rarely enter the conversation when you talk about Literature. “Genre fiction” is a derogatory term in academic circles, or at least a disrespectful one.

Now this is not to say that books considered Real Literature are inherently bad, or that you shouldn’t read them. There are things to gain from Austen and Salinger. The issue is that in mainstream academic circles and cultural consciousness, we don’t look beyond these Officially Canonized works when discussing literature. (Incidentally, this is why I studied Comparative Literature instead of English Literature; the body of work that’s looked at is much broader, and allows for more nuance, plus the focus is on examining the interplay of culture and literature. A lot of what we read in CompLit classes would not have counted as Literature by mainstream academic standards.) 

So why is this a problem? Well to start with, it limits the lens through which people see literature, and thereby the lens through which people see the world. There’s a pretty common response teachers will give when asked why students have to read all this stuff, which is that literature helps us understand culture. This is true. However, if your window into culture is the pen of a straight white man from the 1960s, you’re not actually getting an accurate fix on the culture of wherever the book is from. If the point of literature is to learn about the rest of the world, you need to be able to access multiple perspectives, not just the perspectives deemed acceptable by high academia.

But accessing those perspectives is hard, because they’re not respected by high academia. Works that fall outside of the Literature definition are less likely to be considered important enough to distribute across language lines. Now, there’s a bit of an exception for English literature here, since that’s what dominates the market; there are plenty of translations of English YA and scifi/fantasy and romance novels etc. It’s the other way where it suffers. Non-English literature is just as important to the world as English literature, but because the market is dominated by English, they don’t get as much traction. I have no idea what, say, a teenager in France reads, let alone China or Saudi Arabia - countries the English-speaking world has less of a boner for. The to-English translation market is more geared towards the classics and Literature than it is towards popular fiction.

The other big issue with the perception of literature forwarded by academia is format. Throughout this I’ve been talking about books and the written word, which is an incredibly Western perspective. Literature encompasses so much more than that. Typically literature is defined as “written works”, but that eliminates a great body of work that by all rights should count. I would say that a better broad definition would be “composed works”. A folktale doesn’t become literature when it’s put to paper; it was already part of the literary canon of its culture before it was validated by ink. 

This focus on the written word stems largely from colonialism: the counterpoint of “civilized” vs. “uncivilized”, with written tradition being seen as one of the signs of civilization. There is a lot of classism and racism inherent in the academic definition of literature, since it tends to rely on the novel, the short story, the essay, and the poem as its main components. Any type of media or method of storytelling or conveying information that isn’t one of those four aforementioned formats has a hell of a time being seen as anything but “popular literature,” if the word “literature” is appended to it at all. This especially applies to methods of storytelling that do not jibe well with being written down; oral storytelling traditions are usually not considered Literature, or often considered sophisticated. Hell, songs are barely considered literature; there was a big controversy over Bob Dylan winning the Nobel Prize For Literature back in 2016 because people weren’t sure his works should count.

But under the paradigm of literature as “composed works”, a lot of media that isn’t typically considered literature becomes so. It gives us that broader perspective on the world. It’s incredibly damaging to discount pieces of a culture’s history or storytelling simply because they don’t fit into the narrow definition of Literature as put forth by Western academia. And that’s why I hate the idea of Literature as a concept: it asks us to set guidelines for what should be respected, and what should be discarded. Capital-L Literature inherently sets itself as superior to everything else, and defines itself as What Should Be Focused On. Anything not included in that is derided and disrespected, and because of what doesn’t fit, it contributes to the derision and disrespect of marginalized groups and the devaluing of their narratives and experiences.

[bisluthq]

you have been giving bad vibes lately tbh, like ily and you’re the only blog i’ve got notifications in snd check everyday, and i live that you call out antisemitism and homophobia (i’ve messaged you private stuff too and you’ve been totally lovely too, like ily!!!) but some of the stuff you do it questionable, and idk if it’s just because it’s online, but you always talk about how hot women are when discussing them, even when it’s not relevant, and call them bitches and stuff, and i saw some people call you out for misogyny and you never really took it as valid criticism, but you kinda talk about women like a shitty 17 year old boy tbh, it’s just weird, and the going after a hardly 18year old too instead of just ignoring those messages, it’s all just a bit iffy to me, nothing major and you’re definitely not TTB (it’s disgusting to even suggest that, that woman is so fucking disgusting!) but just some things that you should maybe not brush off as people just being pressed, as you say you’re a human being who will fuck up, but it’s nice to acknowledge that and understand why people say it, rather than just thinking people are haters and what not

Hey, this feels like it’s in good faith but I would very much like a chance to respond to some of your points (again in good faith). Like I hear you but I am not sure I agree with you and here’s why:

1) the criticism that I thirst over women or behave like a “teenage boy” is entangled in respectability politics, slut shaming, homophobia and patriarchal standards. Nobody pearl clutches over anons going off about Dino Dick (except people who’re like “wow these anons are wild” and like fair enough). Harmless thirsting over public figures is absolutely normal and not something to feel ashamed for. It’s okay to discuss sex and how horny shit makes you. It isn’t a bad thing at all.

2) “bitches” is used by me as slang. I have called people “motherfuckers” etc as well, it is 100% used in a general slang way and not in a way intended to be derogatory.

3) I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m “going after” Olivia. I said she’s very talented, very ambitious, has some boppy songs, and is insanely good at marketing herself (and performing! Her SNL slammed and that’s SUCH A HARD STAGE TO PERFORM ON). Saying her songs are thematically similar as a marketing choice and she’s copy pasting Taylor’s ideas isn’t going after her. Also, there is a huge power imbalance here and it’s... in Olivia’s favor. Olivia has the backing of UMG and Disney. My saying “she’s contrived in her public persona and good for her hope she makes it since that’s clearly what she wants” isn’t an ad hominem attack on a random teenage girl.

4) I don’t think people are “just haters” but you need to understand that I’ve had a LOT of antisemitic remarks in my ask in the last bit and obviously that’s affected my mood and general vibe. It lowkey sucks. And I do think people willfully and sometimes like obstinately misread what I am saying and take my words out of context or obfuscate what I was saying which, yes, is frustrating.

So like yeah I’m not perfect and yeah I do hear people if they come with valid criticism of me and if people point out stuff I said that’s problematic I take it on board. “Bitches” is offensive to some but is also a linguistic choice. I will think about that one because it doesn’t bother me but I don’t need to be offending people y’know.

The respectability politics stuff is a bit bullshit though. Like I say you can’t just cry misogyny at people thinking people are hot and tbh on that same note at some of the times I’ve been called a misogynist. I have expressly called Harry Styles a himbo, I have roasted him for having Camille teach him to read, and butchering her favorite wanky book for his pussy song. I’ve also like.... not expected Harry to give good critical analysis of a wanky post apocalyptic nightmare novel. Which is a very similar criticism to what I’ve leveled at Madison. Yeah, they’re talented musicians. Yeah, they’re hot. No, don’t expect them to give you a good take on some literary topic that’s kinda unfair to them. Just let them be hot and talented.

I’ve also said that Harry’s hyperconfessionalism on Fine Line annoyed me and I’ve said I can’t stand Ed’s music because it’s like the exact same topic on all of them.

Nobody has been like, “WOW YOU HATE HARRY! WOW YOU ARE A MISANDRIST!”

Because those criticisms have nothing to do with the identity of the people.

One can criticize women for things they’ve said and done and also just.... things you find annoying.... and that doesn’t mean you hate women.

And it does feel unfair that that gets leveled at me a bunch because I really don’t think it’s true at all. I think this is a deeply and inherently feminist space. And yes we thirst in it, which is fine, and yes we don’t act like women are somehow immune to criticism. That doesn’t make us sexist. It’d be worse to be acting like somehow being a woman makes people immune from discourse or needing to be held to a different - presumably lower - standard. Like that’s be fucked up.

Hope this makes sense and let me know if you have any further thoughts or comments. I’ll think about the “bitches” thing.

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

Overgrown Metal

Series Summary:  Almost two decades ago, the fae rose up from beyond the veil with technology far surpassing the human race, quickly taking over after laying waste to nearly everything in their wake. Now eight paths cross to right the wrongs on both ends, working to uncover secrets that would have rather stayed hidden

Chapter 5: Bow With Hope

Summary: Enter Patton.

Trigger Warnings: death mention. If i missed any please let me know.

General taglist: @im-an-anxious-wreck (if you’d like to be tagged for all works or specific ones feel free to ask!)

Patton sighed gratefully as the great doors closed behind him, quickly straightening before anyone could see and hurrying down the main street to the tallest building before anyone could catch him and ask too many questions. His jaw clicked painfully as he tried to subtly stretch it out and hoping no one would notice just how fast he was blinking behind his rather large glasses. Too many potential questions, too many potential conversations, too much of everything and honestly why wasn’t he there yet he was in impeccable shape and walking fairly quickly and-

He nearly crashed into the front doors of the building not having noticed tripping his way up the steps. Blinking a few more times he shifted his pack to one shoulder somewhat painfully considering its weight and nudged the door open slowly and just enough for him to fit through, slipping in fast and shutting himself and the inside away from any potential prying eyes. Dropping the pack carefully he slumped against the frame and let his eyes adjust, the milkiness nearly cleared from his vision as he stretched his mouth open as wide as it would go. Being mute outside the walls didn’t give you many opportunities or use for that matter for opening it very often, defaulting to clenching his jaw an unhealthy amount and making it a relief when he finally returned to his city and no longer had to worry about keeping up any pretenses.

Looking around revealed an unsurprisingly empty lobby, the converted hotel expanded almost impossibly wide and making the light fixtures work twice as hard to banish the shadows from the furthest reaches of the room. Several staircases led up and away to various sections of the building, though only a couple led down into the depths where he and others of his current status were rarely ever permitted to tread. Waving away the sadness that threatened to swell at the thought he simply sighed again and hoisted the pack back over his shoulder, oddities from a nearby Undercurrent ratting softly within it. He wondered briefly what the residents of the underground towns actually called themselves- certainly something better than the blatant derogatory name Societies had given them. The nicer ones were nearly identical to Patton’s own city: well structured layers of markets and power plants and homes all buried safely beneath the ground to adapt to their rapidly changing environment.

Of course he wouldn’t care to live in one...he didn’t even really care to be living in a Society despite the “safety” it promised him especially being as high up as he was. Given the choice he’d be a wanderer as so many were now, refusing to settle down where either roots or branches would eventually chase you out or kill you as you tried to hold them back. Vast open plains were really only a temporary solution as wildlife continued to grow and shift and spread without mercy or care for what it was destroying to create whatever ideals were behind it. Shaking his head once again he made his way to the nearest staircase. There’d be time for thinking later...maybe. For now he needed to deliver what he managed to find and hopefully it would be enough to pay him with a day pass to the cemetery; his superiors didn’t want the past to hold anyone back which was fine with Patton- it just  meant he worked incredibly hard to be able to earn his time with who he had lost.

Finally getting to the door he needed he took the time to give his jaw one final stretch, mouthing out a couple words to practice their shapes before he had to talk again. His vision  had finally cleared fully leaving his dark brown curls the only thing obstructing his vision. Carefully they were pushed up and away, tucked neatly behind his ears before he smoothed the front of his still dirty tunic. Wincing he tried in vain to brush as much of it off as he could only to give up after barely half a minute as the dirt made it clear it was there to stay. Stern voices chiding him for his lack of professionalism were waved away quickly. His job was tough and dirty and there was really nothing he could do to help with that unless they decided to transfer him to a different purpose. These assurances fell somewhat limply as he sucked in a breath. He would never trade his purpose for anything, dangerous as it could be and even with the added drawbacks. He was free to roam out there- within a time frame but still. He could see how the world was progressing and how life was coping, he could see grass and “trees” rather than the industrial colors of his Society, and most of all he could look for-

Gripping the straps he straightened one final time and placed his hand on the door knob. There would be time for thinking later; right now he had a job to finish. Swinging open the door before he could change his mind he stepped in, head down and shoulders back before shutting the door behind him. Nothing happened for a full minute, the only sound in the room Patton’s own quickly beating heart and the gentle tinkling in the bag as the trinkets shifted with his fidgeting, Five minutes had passed before he slowly lifted only his eyes to scan the room, realizing with a start that he was completely alone. 

Cheeks burning with slight embarrassment he walked forward towards the thin envelope with his name on it on the wide oak desk. Placing the pack beside him he opened to reveal a small wad of twenty dollar bills and a note most likely written by the direct herself.

Patton,

If your past findings have been anything to go by this should be enough to pay you for what you’ve brought back this time, though action will be taken if my assumption is incorrect. The day pass included was taken from your pay, I took the liberty of sparing you a trip.

Faris

Blinking in surprise he quickly shuffled his pay to find that there was, in fact, a day pass included. His stomach squeezed uncomfortably at the thought of his routine being known so well but the organization he worked for was a rather tight knit group so in the end he supposed it made sense. He nudged the bag closer to the side of the desk and turned to leave, only briefly wondering why the director hadn’t been there this time before quickening his pace back towards the way he came. If he hurried he’d be able to use it now; he’d scarcely thought of much else his entire trip outside the walls.

Walking as quickly as he dared through the silent lobby he found the long familiar flight of stairs and hurried down them, barely stopping ;long enough to shove the pass through the slot before nearly crashing into the second door he hadn’t been paying attention to today.. Schooling his annoyed expression as the pass was logged he reached immediately for the door as he heard the beep, mood sobering immediately as the cold musty air hit his face. The cemetery was a quiet place, as they so often were, and hung heavy with the warm smell of earth contrasted just shy of unpleasantly with the crisp air of the underground cavern. Here the dead lay still in whatever a family could scrounge to wrap them with, most only in their best clothes laid as carefully and respectfully as possible in the holes dug by those who cared for them. Families weren’t allowed to see the dead laid to rest, too painful a thing to watch with the limited amount of technology they had, the director had said. Patton would have gave everything- he glanced up at where his feet had automatically taken him. His son’s grave.

His tight smile turned genuine as he kneeled in front of the stone, tears already pricking his eyes as he stared at the name written there. He brought his arm up slowly, palm resting on the corner of the smooth stone he had picked out himself: smooth and just big enough and slate gray with obsidian cracks spidering at the side. He always liked smiling in the cemetery, hoping that if God forbid his sin’s soul lingered he would see his father smiling and be comforted. He knew if he was ever a spirit he wouldn’t want to see his family mourn him, pain cracking their usually cheerful features. No. He’d rather them smile with the memories of their time spent together, and especially for his young child, he smiled as wide and as long as he could, simply absorbing the silence and trying his best to turn the cool indifference of the stone into warm comfort with the simple touch of his palm.

“I always wondered who it was you put all your hard earned savings towards. Though I’m deeply curious patton: if you’re mourning him down here, then why look for him up there?” Patton froze at the cold words tossed at him so carelessly, matching the rest of the room and sapping what little warmth he himself had left to offer. Standing carefully he schooled his face into what he hoped was an open expression and turned, meeting the deep brown eyes of Director Faris. 

She really shouldn’t be this intimidating he thought to himself as he bowed his head. The director was his height and only slightly chubbier, dark suit with a crisp lab coat laying carefully over it filling the picture of professionalism. Really the only thing scary about her was the necklace she wore with their society emblem carved into a small pendant, the snarling muzzle of a dog glinting in the low light. Her stern gaze never wavered from him, much as he wished it would, and the air between them had grown incredibly uncomfortable by the time she cleared her throat to indicate he could answer.

“Blind hope I suppose.” He offered weakly. “Thank you f-”

She waited patiently for him to clear his suddenly very dry throat, trying desperately to clear the gravel of disuse from his voice before he tried to speak again. “Thank you for  including a pass with my pay, the saved trip is greatly appreciated.”

“Blind hope that he survived and somehow escaped your notice for ten years?”

“A father knows.”

“So does a leader.” Faris stepped forward and  laid a hand on his shoulder. “You always have so much trouble simply letting go Patton. Let the past be.”

Patton bit back the retort of his purpose that was given to him by the director herself was finding relics of the past along with whatever could be made from present materials to bring back to the city. His purpose relied on the past and people finding new ways to innovate it so it fit into the future. That to simply let the past go- well, wasn’t so simple. He cast a longing gaze to the smooth stone sitting obliviously in the dirt, Faris’ eyes following sharply.

“Whose body do you think is down there if not your son’s? How little respect do you have for us if you think we would deceive you on such a personal level?” Patton felt a wave of guilt wash over him at those words, looking down shamefully. “Have faith, Patton. This world has no more room for questions.”

As the director's hand fell from his shoulder at last she gestured as she turned away, taking confident strides to the stairs. “Follow me when you’re ready; I have other things to discuss with you.”

Pressing his lips together, Patton took one last look at the grave marker. Doubt curled not for the first time in the back of his mind, an ever growing sapling digging its roots ever deeping in the bed of questions he had surrounding the Society in which he lived and the people put in charge of it. As one of the head researchers it didn’t sit right with him that Faris allowed so little to be questioned, instead offering up faith as the sole reason to follow whatever whim the higher ups decided to pursue. He worked only a small branch of the Society, so much was left behind closed doors he very rarely if ever had access to. There was always, always room for questions. 

“I will never stop looking for you.” He whispered quietly enough so he was sure faris wouldn’t hear before turning and hurrying towards the steps. “I promise you, Virgil.”

This work is also available on AO3!

Previous     Next

Official Playlist

if you like please consider reblogging, it helps creators spread their work!