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ninemelodies · 4 months

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two worlds apart

written for doctordonna week 23 day one: fire/glow also on ao3

“Couldn’t you have picked a cooler time to visit?” Donna complains. “Even my eyelids are sweating, Doctor.”

Behind her, the Doctor scoffs. “You’re the one who asked to see fireflies!” He steps out of the TARDIS, still clothed in his suit jacket and coat. He pulls the door closed behind him and turns to face Donna. With his hands on his hips, he begins a rather impressive imitation of Donna's voice. “Doctor, that last three planets you picked have been rubbish, it’s my turn to pick! I want to go see fireflies, a lot of fireflies, like that song.” He drops the accent and gestures to the landscape around them. “So here we are, in the middle of a field in the middle of summer because fireflies are most active during the summer. Which also reminds me - you really need to stop consuming media from your future.”

“Those planets were rubbish! We nearly got arrested! Three times!” Donna defends, and then, in a flash of childish annoyance, she sticks her tongue out at him. The Doctor returns the gesture.

When she had first told the Doctor what she wanted to do, he had spent 30 minutes trying to convince Donna to go to some planet where there were literal fire flies. As in, flies that set themselves on fire when they died. Donna had found it a bit morbid and knew, with their luck, that a trip to that planet was likely to end with one or both of them missing their eyebrows. And now he wanted to try and warn her about spoilers? Traveling with him was one big spoiler!

“Like I'm going to go home and copy down the entirety of a song to claim as my own before the original artist can make it.” Donna rolls her eyes. “I can promise you I'm not that talented. And besides, it’s not like I'd be getting rid of The Beatles or anything.”

“That did happen once…” the Doctor mutters, but before Donna can ask him to explain, he’s already moving on. “Come on,” he says and begins trudging through the ankle high grass. “I know a good spot.”

“It better be worth it,” Donna threatens, but there’s no real heat behind her words. She follows behind him. Despite her complaints about the heat, the Doctor has taken her to a rather beautiful field. There are wildflowers blooming everywhere and the air is alive with the sounds of nature. Every step they take sends grasshoppers and other tiny green bugs scattering. If it wasn’t so bloody hot, Donna could imagine herself spending a lot of time here.

They haven’t traveled far before the Doctor stops. There is a clearing in the field where the grass has been mostly flattened and nothing too prickly grows. The Doctor pauses and digs around in his coat pocket for a moment before he produces a blue and white checkered picnic blanket. He lays it out on the ground and then steps back. “Ladies first,” he says as he bows low and gestures to the blanket.

“So you're finally recognizing my lady-like qualities, hm?” Donna asks. She settles cross-legged on the blanket and fans herself with her hand.

“Oh,” the Doctor says, like he’s been reminded of something. He reaches a hand in his coat pocket and then continues reaching, until his arm up to his elbow is hidden from view. He digs around for a minute before he frowns and pulls back a bit. “Hang on.” Using his other hand, he reaches over and pulls the pocket open further. He digs for just a moment longer before he pulls his hand out with a triumphant noise. In his hand is a small bottle of sunscreen and a bottle of water.

He tosses the sunscreen to Donna before settling onto the blanket. “The sun should be going down soon, but..” the Doctor trails off with a shrug that Donna takes to mean ‘better safe than sorry.’ He's not wrong, Donna burns very easily.

She catches the sunscreen and begins smearing a thin layer over all her exposed skin. When she’s done, she hands the sunscreen back to the Doctor and takes the bottle of water. It feels like ice in her hand. “How is this still cold?” Donna hasn’t seen the Doctor near any kind of fridge or cooling station in several days.

“What,” the Doctor says, “are your pockets not thermoregulated?”

“No!”

“Would you like them to be?” he asks, like it’s a casual thing to have pockets that are climate controlled. Donna gives him a look and he raises his hands in surrender. “It's just an option! I can update them on the TARDIS, if you want.”

Donna is positive she doesn’t want the Doctor doing anything to her pockets. “I think I’ll keep them as they are, spaceman.” The Doctor’s experiments tended to always have some kind of unintended effect, like boiling an egg from several paces away. Knowing him, he’d accidentally make a black hole in her trousers or something equally ridiculous.

The Doctor shrugs. “Suit yourself.” In the calm that follows, the Doctor goes digging through his pockets again and produces two sandwiches, one cucumber and cream cheese (Donna's favorite) and the other peanut butter and banana (the Doctor’s favorite), a whole banana, a variety pack of crisps, and another bottle of water. “Asked the TARDIS to make some snacks,” he explains as he arranges the food on the blanket.

She snags a packet of spicy crisps and the cucumber sandwich. The sandwich, much like the water bottle, is still at the perfect temperature despite being in the Doctor’s pockets for who knows how long. Donna decides she’s probably better off not thinking too hard about it being a pocket sandwich and takes a bite.

Across from her, the Doctor starts with the banana and quickly demolishes it before moving onto his sandwich. He's got a large mouthful of peanut butter and bread when Donna speaks.

“So where are we?”

The Doctor smacks loudly and swallows the bite of sandwich in his mouth before speaking, “We’re in Re:America, sometime around the oh…” he sticks a finger in his mouth and then pulls it out to hold up like he’s testing the wind. “23rd century? Ooooh,” he sounds excited now. “It's Independence Day! We’re in for a treat!”

Donna frowns at him. “You brought me here and you didn’t even know what day it was?”

“That's what you’re questioning?” the Doctor asks with a raised eyebrow. “You said you wanted to see fireflies, Re:America has the largest population of native fireflies in all of history,” he explains. “I set the time coordinates to bring us here in the summer, but I didn’t specify a day.” He takes another large bite of his sandwich.

In all honesty, Donna isn’t sure if the Doctor is just incredibly bad at navigating or if the TARDIS just decides to drop them off wherever she thinks they’re needed. Given the way the Doctor likes to smack the console with that rubber mallet, Donna has a feeling the TARDIS is a little more obstinate than she will ever know.

The sun is just starting to set when Donna finishes her sandwich and crisps. She puts the trash in her normal, not dimensionally altered pockets, and lays on her back on the blanket. The sky above her is painted in shades of orange and purple. They still have a few minutes before dark, so Donna asks, “Re:America?”

She hears the Doctor huff out a laugh before he shifts and lays down next to her. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees him settle with his arms crossed behind his head.

“Re:America was created in response to rising capitalistic ideas in America that were oppressing the working class,” he explains. “The common people didn’t like the way they were being treated so they carved out a section of central America, around Kansas,” he wiggles his hand in a so-so gesture, “Nebraska area and created their own government and economic system.”

“So…Re:America like re: in an email?”

The Doctor turns his head to grin at her. “Donna Noble, you are amazing. That’s exactly it. Re:America was named because it was literally a response to the increasingly harsh atmosphere in America.” He turns back to look up at the sky. “Unfortunately, Re:America will only last for another 50 years or so before it gets dissolved back into the rest of the United States. The impact is astounding, though. New laws for protection of workers, a revised economic system that lifts millions out of poverty and the nations of the world begin to come together and space travel becomes a priority. This is where the First Great and Bountiful Human Empire starts before it spreads out amongst the stars. Isn’t it brilliant?”

Donna hums in agreement, but quickly gets distracted by the first flicker of light above them. For a minute there is nothing, and then suddenly there are hundreds of fireflies all around them. They twinkle like stars and Donna can’t help but laugh. She turns to look over at the Doctor and finds him staring at her with a soft smile on his face.

“Well?” he asks. “Worth it?”

“It's beautiful,” Donna says. “I've seen them before, in the country when I was young, but it was never like this. This is amazing.”

The Doctor shifts and pulls a hand out from behind his head. He sticks it up in the air and the fireflies dance around it. A few land, blink for a moment, and then take off again. Eventually, as the fireflies scatter off to places outside of their clearing, the Doctor begins to point out constellations and stars in the sky. There are a couple stars that Donna’s never heard of, and the Doctor explains that their light only began to reach the Earth long after the 21st century.

Now that the sun has gone down, the night is beginning to cool off, and, with the soothing sound of the Doctor speaking lowly beside her, Donna begins to doze off. She’s comfortable and she’s safe and she’s almost asleep when a bright light and a loud boom shatters the night.

Beside her, the Doctor jerks and his description of the far-off Treyas Galaxy cuts off. Before Donna can truly process what happened, the Doctor is hovering over her, ready to shield her from any other explosion or debris.

Another bang sounds and the sky lights up again in a shower of blue sparks. It’s fireworks, Donna realizes. Someone is setting off fireworks, very close by, judging by how loud they are. She can hear the tell-tale whistle as another is launched.

Above her, the Doctor is wide eyed and pale in the brief flashes of light. She can’t say for sure what the explosions are reminding him of, but she can take a guess. Gramps had that same look whenever fireworks went off. It was the look of a man haunted by war.

Without hesitation, Donna rests her hands gently on the Doctor’s cheeks. She keeps her touch light, so he can pull away if he wants. “Hey,” she says, softly, in the silence between fireworks. “It's Independence Day. You said so earlier. They’re fireworks. We’re okay.”

The Doctor blinks once, twice, and Donna watches as the panic fades from his eyes. He draws in a ragged breath, and Donna suddenly realizes that in his alarm, the Doctor had stopped breathing. She shifts her fingers down, just slightly, and can feel his pulse racing under her fingertips.

“You alright?” she asks.

Instead of answering her, he rolls away and settles back into his original position, like nothing had happened. Before he can tuck his hand back under his head, Donna grabs it and shifts closer to him so their sides are pressed together. She squeezes it gently.

“Doctor?” she calls, and this time he turns to look at her. “Do you want to go back to the TARDIS?”

He shakes his head. “No, it’s alright.” He squeezes her hand in return and turns back to the sky as another firework explodes into a shower of brightly colored purple sparks above them.

She continues watching him for another few moments. With each deep breath he takes, more of the tension leaks from his shoulders and his face smoothes out. His pulse still seems high, but he’s calmer now, more aware of himself and the situation. He flinches slightly with each mortar that explodes above them. She suspects that he had known about the firework show, given his mention of a treat earlier, but had been startled when the first one lit up the sky unexpectedly.

Satisfied that the Doctor isn’t going to vibrate out of his skin with anxiety, Donna turns back to the sky. “It's okay, you know.” She's not looking at the Doctor now, but she can tell he’s listening by the way he stills in his fidgeting. “It happens to Gramps too, when the council starts up a firework show he isn’t prepared for.”

The Doctor doesn’t answer her, but he shifts impossibly closer and begins explaining the mechanics behind these fireworks and how, in the early 22nd century, scientists discovered they could engineer the gunpowder to burn in impossible colors and form extremely intricate patterns.

She listens closely, oohing and aahing like a child when a particularly complex pattern or pretty color lights up the sky. She remembers the Doctor finishing his explanation and going quiet beside her. She remembers the Doctor’s hand in hers and then, the next thing she knows, she’s being carried, gently.

Donna stirs, confused at the situation, but the Doctor shushes her. “You fell asleep,” he whispers. “We’re going back to the TARDIS now. Go back to sleep.” And his voice is so soft, Donna can’t help but do just that.

The next morning, she wakes in her bed in the TARDIS. She’s still in her clothes from the night before and she’s sticky with sunscreen and sweat. Donna showers and then finds the Doctor in the console room, fiddling with a button that has been sticking on their last couple trips and is making landings rougher than usual.

He looks up as she enters and grins at her. “So!” he says as he abandons the button to circle the console and stand in front of her. “Where to today?”

“Surprise me,” Donna says.

The Doctor laughs with glee, flips a lever and with a familiar wheezing noise, they’re off.

#doctor who #donna noble #10th doctor #my fics #doctordonna week 23

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broomsick · 1 year

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Hi! It's me again, My question today actually relates to communicating with the gods. I talk to Njord daily, and talk to Freyr and Tyr sometimes as well. But I can't tell when they are responding back to me, or even if they are at all.

I know they exist, Njord actually responded in the world around me when I prayed to him on multiple occasions.

But I see others talking about having conversations with their gods and I feel like I'm missing out.

I do have fears like spiritual psychosis, where I trick myself into hallucinating the fact they are talking to me. But I'm also afraid of things like malicious spirits pretending to be those Gods.

I know I can cleanse my area and do things to protect myself but I do not understand what ways I can establish a connection through my protections.

I've been reading books and doing my best to understand but some books can range from it just happens to literally killing animals you've hunted to protect yourself while you talk to them.

And I wanted to know if there was something I was missing, or just hear your thoughts on it.

Thanks again!

Hi there!

I’ll start by saying that if you’re interested in my personal thoughts, I’ve actually written a post on this first topic before! Feel free to read it!

As you will see, my opinion on this matter is thus: pagans on social media do sometimes mention "talking" with deities, as if having a conversation with a human being. However, this is often a way to simplify more complex means of communication. For example, having prayed to a deity and later receiving a sign which seems to come from them can be seen a sort of "conversation" with the deity. In other cases, people will receive answers from their deities using divination methods such as tarot, rune-casting, pendulums, etc... It's also possible for some to somehow hear answers from their deities through a deep state of meditation, or through powerful spiritual experiences. Long story short, these "conversations" that people post on social media are generally a way to convey the spiritual exchange which happens when you pray, or ask a question, and you receive a sign, or blessing in return, with time. Unless of course, the poster has some sort of "clairsense" which allows them to hear clear answers. If it can be of some comfort however, I myself do not possess any kind of clairsense, and I haven't met a lot of people who do. The pagan friends whom I know have a clairsense will often tell me that the answers they get isn't nearly as clear as some internet content creators make it out to be. These answers will often be short, like simple words and muffled sentences.

But believe me, I understand why you would feel like you're missing out. I had been pagan for about four to years when I first became active in pagan circles on tumblr, and it took even longer for me to truly get involved with them (posting, commenting, discussing...). When I finally did so, I thought to myself "Am I supposed to be capable of communicating so easily with my deities? How is it that everyone else seems to find such ease in receiving answers from theirs?" And with time, I came to realize that just like me, most (if not all) pagans did not hold actual, two-sided conversations with deities. The reported conversations you see being spread online are oftentimes played up for clarity purpose, and the pagan spiritual life does consist mainly of praying to yourself, and having faith that there is someone on the other end, listening. A deity's answer can take the shape of signs, unexpected blessings and the like. As a wise friend of mine once said, "The skies don't open up for me the moment I put my hands together; that doesn't happen for anyone". In any case, there are lots of ways for you to connect with your deities— ways that don't require for you to be involved in your spirituality at all times and to master deep meditations techniques! Taking in the sight of a landscape, appreciating the beauty of a rainy night and breathing in the sea wind are moments where you may feel a deity, or deities' presence. But more on that later!

Now, I’m actually not much of a believer in the whole “spirit pretending to be your deities” concept. Of course, the belief in these sorts of instances is entirely up to each one of us individually. In my case, I have had long conversations about it with pagan friends, both online and in real life, and all seemed to think this concept being spread as much as it is on social media was an exaggeration that could easily frighten new pagans. This has never happened to anyone I'm acquainted with, at least not that I know of. For this reason, perhaps I'm not the best person to give my opinion on the topic, much less on how to protect yourself from such an occurence. If you're interested in a longer, more elaborate reflection on the matter, however, one of my friends has written this amazing post concerning the discernment of trauma (or negative personal experiences/thoughts) and the idea of spirits somehow impersonating deities.

I truly hope this has cleared up a few things for you, though I'm sorry I couldn't get into as much detail for your second question as for your first. My practice looks a lot like yours, as I mostly talk to my deities and give offerings, without receiving immediate answers. The answers I do get can take many forms, and sometimes I tell myself: "Alright. I believe that this or that sign comes from this or that deity. I can't know for sure, but believing that it does is enough". And oftentimes, I will feel a deep connection with a deity simply through devotional actions, or as I am making offerings and toasting in their honor. These are unexpected times when I somehow know that the Gods are watching over me, despite them not coming down from the heavens in a halo of light to sit and talk with me like flesh and blood human beings!

I'm flattered that you came to me with these questions, and I hope I have answered them well. May you have a fulfilling and joyful spiritual journey on this path!

#ask #asks #answered #spirituality #paganism #polytheism #norse paganism #norse polytheism #heathenry #deities #deity work #norse gods #tips

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grey-sides · 2 years

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Hey!! About your recent post.. I truly don't think the Duffers dislike Billy. They're just NOT great writers.. Also, stranger things is a plot driven show, not a character driven show... Look at how many other characters are so often sidelined for the sake of the plot (look at Will, at Lucas, at Erica, at Steve even! Literally any character) What are they actually doing? Are they actually growing as people?? I don't really think so... They grow some and complete regress the following season. Anyway, I hope you don't take this the wrong way. But I just see so many people mad about "wasted potential" of Billy's character. I just don't think it's their intention. It's just how the show works. I was 100% convinced Billy was Vecina when I saw the trailer and yet even before the show premiered I got less and less sure, until I was confident it was Peter (just from seeing the actor at the premiere) so I really wasn't expecting anything enough to be disappointed in the end... Idk.

Hi! Well, I read your message and couldn't go back to sleep until I responded because it made me think thoughts haha. I want to be clear, I'm not angry with the show or what happened this season and I'm not angry with you. I'm not angry at all, actually, and thoroughly enjoyed this season!

When I say the Duffers dislike Billy, I mean that in interviews and discussions about the show, they have always been clear about what purpose Billy serves. He was a bully who got somewhat redeemed by his ending actions, but that was always his purpose. They don't like Billy because Billy is a bully-character, a character whose purpose was to be an antagonist and no one on the writing team seems to love antagonists the way so many of us do on the Internet.

You're not wrong about all the characters getting sidelined for the sake of the plot. But the other characters mentioned are all still alive with potential for further growth or fleshing out. I guess in this way, I could make a post about Bob Newby or Barb Holland, the difference with Billy is we got him for 2 seasons instead of 1. So the feeling of wasted potential is a little more real.

I also latch onto Billy's lack of growth because the Duffers and other members of the creative team have boasted so much about Max's story line this season. And it's good! Again, it did make me cry which was the intention, but they could have done more to make that story line impactful. More emotional or just more of an arc for her, that's all.

I know the show is plot-driven and not character-driven. I also made a post about that because it's a growing "issue" in our media landscape. Post-MCU (yes, it's still happening but it's post), almost all media is plot-driven because the MCU is plot-driven. Ironic, given that comic books are largely a character-driven genre.

I don't want you to take this the wrong way, anon, because I don't disagree with you and I'm not angry in any shape or form. But for me, engaging in meta commentary or criticism of something is one method of showing love for something. If I hated Stranger Things or the choices the show made, I would just stop watching. I see an endless amount of potential for the show and I like to talk about it. Stranger Things makes me want to write my own screenplay or start a Youtube channel where I could talk about this with a better way to convey my tone.

I love Stranger Things, I think it's a great media franchise with a lot to offer. I wish it was done differently sometimes and I wish the show runners saw the opportunities that so many in the fandom see. But I don't hold a lot of "faith" about what will happen, I am a fairly cynical consumer so very little actually disappoints me.

This has gotten long and rambly and that's evidence that I need to go back to bed. But I simply had to respond because, again, I love media criticism a whole lot. I will also say, I just won't write something I like off because the writers aren't very good. I think the Duffers are decent writers, I just think they are creating in a time where it's better to mass produce than it is to produce quality content. All Netflix shows have this problem because character-driven stories don't tend to be seen as very exciting. And when they are exciting, people complain about them not being understandable (such as The Green Knight).

Anyway, I'm off to sleep again! Thank you for your thoughts, anon, I hope with this longer post I've explained myself a little bit more.

#greye talks #anon #billy hargrove #stranger things #meta

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Iam wanting to write a story about a girl who has asthma, a learning disability and is considered by society to be less than average. She is also a little over weight. When she has been given immortality other immortals shun her and want her dead. To escape from this she goes to a martial arts temple in China. She is also an American. I was wondering how I could incorporate both cultures in my story?

Overweight Chinese American girl with asthma & learning disability, martial arts, & China

Disclaimer: I’ve written this response assuming that the main character herself is Chinese or Chinese-American.

Some stuff I’d like to discuss point-by-point:

Being an Asthmatic

Asthmatics don’t exactly have the best representation in media, so I’m worried about a non-Asthmatic writing a story where the main conflict is centered around the MC’s method of coping with ableism.

Especially considering how we’re portrayed as stereotypical nerds/geeks for not being absolute athletes (haha maybe because pushing ourselves that far will literally result in an asthma attack-)

I have a feeling that in addition to the point where Chinese people are already stereotyped as nerds, having her be asthmatic as well does mean you’ll have to be more careful in how you present her. We already have the whole “model minority, East Asian = nerd” thing going for us.

Being “overweight”

America’s definition of “overweight” looks different for all kinds of people!

Someone who’s statistically considered “overweight” by American standards might pass as being “average” (in American standards once again) and vice-versa! The existence of the word actually insinuates the existence of an ideal weight-- pretty fatphobic.

If you mean to say that she’s fat, chubby, and/or plump, then do so. Don’t dance around the term just because it’s deemed ‘undesirable’ by our Eurocentric beauty standards.

(Additionally, being chubby is associated with the nerd trope as well. More to watch out when developing her character.)

Mod Rune mentions the specific way you’ve phrased how as a result of her being overweight and asthmatic, she’s “considered by society to be less than average” and she’s shunned/wanted dead specifically for these two reasons.

Being disabled =/= incompetency or being less than an abled person. Once again, an OwnVoices situation would make sense; However I would still worry about infantilizing Asthmatic/chubby people this way.

The plot… oof.

I’m worried that your method of combating the already-delicate conflict (that she’s looking for a way to cope with her feelings of inadequacy induced by ableism/fatphobia), is pretty insulting. You specifically word her trip to China as an “escape” which I feel could have a much better reason-- your excuse as is sounds to lead into a story of “refinding myself at the home of my birth culture” or something like that- especially with the fact that she’ll be doing this at a martial arts temple. A very cultural aspect of China.

Martial Arts?

That being said; Even though a Chinese martial artist does feel rather stereotypical, it does help with asthma (source: me and Taekwondo)

Specifically, according to this study from NCBI on the correlation between asthmatic children and Taichichuan, results have shown that “12 weeks of Tai-Chi-Chuan could improve the pulmonary function, decrease airway inflammation, and improve quality of life in children with mild asthma”.

However Northern Shaolin, Hung Ga, Wing Chun, and other Chinese forms of martial arts could work as well! Please do research on the specific techniques and differentiate between them. Appropriating Chinese martial arts on top of the fact that it’s already rather tropey- very bad.

A different plot?

Perhaps don’t send her off to China to quote, "escape from how other [immortals shun her and want her dead]".

I think a better motivation for this change in landscape would be “She wanted to train to get stronger and improve her health with how it was negatively impacted because of her asthma.”

The thing with a lot of disabled people is that-- we don’t want to have to “keep up” with abled people. We don’t want to need to take all these extra measures just to be able to function ‘normally’ (or at least the one defined by society). I feel that the motives in your original plot panders to that idea that she must get stronger or else she’ll never be accepted by the other immortals. A Chinese-American asthmatic myself, I’d much rather see her self-worth measured through her own growth as an individual than how well she ‘fits in’ with non-asthmatics.

Marika mentions that people also often do martial arts for culturally-relevant exercise-- so this could also be a way for her to reconnect with her birth culture.

Sophia also mentions that being overweight has little on one’s skills as a martial artist; So it shouldn’t be used as an argument as to why someone shouldn’t be taking on a certain expertise. (Seconded, as someone who did kendo: some of the better kendoka were overweight and had more precision than I did --Jess)

Incorporating TCK Culture:

Look for stuff written by actual Chinese-American third-culture kids!

Every little part of life- from the stories parents tell their kids before bed to the kind of food we eat daily- is 100% influenced by both our caregivers and the community we live in. For me personally, we’d have hotpot dinners with other Asian families during the Lunar New Year and I’d typically be sent to Chinese school on Sundays as well.

Mods Jess and Lesya touch up on some TCK elements in this ask as well! (Wanting to Learn More About Culture Because of Chinese Name) However your MC celebrates her cultures will also depend on how assimilated into America her family is.

Like I said earlier: look for materials that Chinese-American TCKs and immigrants have written! There’s no better way to learn about certain customs than getting them from the actual source.

My ending thoughts!

These are honestly traits that I’d love to see more, as an asthmatic Chinese-American myself who has done martial arts in the past, haha.

Be extra careful when a ton of your character’s traits are found in East Asian (Chinese) caricatures! Be sure to flesh her out as a three-dimensional character as this description that you’ve given us (regarding her conflict) makes me go >.>-- I don’t like it as is.

Give her motivations for herself that aren’t purely to conform to others (per the submissive Asian girl trope). Having a bullied Asian girl does feel like it plays into this, so please don’t have her measure her worth as an individual based off of the standards set by abled people!

Do tons of research on Chinese martial arts! Marika mentions huge points below that I want you to consider when giving her a specific speciality-- just saying “a martial arts temple” doesn’t cut it.

(As always, any reader feedback/additions would be appreciated!)

~ Mod Emme

These are my thoughts as someone who has practiced various styles of Chinese martial arts.

While the quality of the instructor and the student’s efforts are crucial, I think you need to be clear on the following:

The style of martial arts your character will be doing

Their physical limitations

The type of learning disability they have.

Different fighting styles suit the limitations of different body types in different ways

A person who is overweight may find styles with explosive movements that put weight on vulnerable joints like the knees to be painful. Styles that favor stable stances may be more feasible than those that emphasize movements with lots of air time, crouching and jumping.

A person who is inflexible will need a style that encourages them to keep limber to avoid getting hurt.

A person with diminished lung capacity will need a style that safely challenges their endurance.

Different learning disabilities might make certain styles more or less difficult to learn

ADHD may favor fast fighting styles with complex move sets and a wide variety of weapons.

Issues associated with memory retention may make styles that emphasize sparring easier than those that focus on memorizing forms

Make no mistake, the culture of a style will be as much of a consideration for your character as the Chinese and American cultural influences. Do your research, and inquire with practitioners as to what styles would work well for your characters.

The tumblr blog How to Fight Write would likely be a good resource on the physical logistics of different styles.

- Marika

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

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Flatmates - Harry Styles

i listened to kiwi while writing it so i strongly advise to listen to is while reading as well. without any further ado, i present you this flatmate!harry fic with some steamy smut!

word count: ~9k

warning: smut

masterlist

You were desperate to find a place to live, to say the least. You’ve always had trouble remembering deadlines and important dates, and thanks to this charming trait of yours, you successfully missed the deadline of the college dormitory applications. After a day of solid panic you started looking for cheap apartments, but living off campus seemed to be something only rich people could afford. Rents were ridiculously high and you were certain you couldn’t afford to spend thousands of dollars for a room smaller than your pantry back at home. You watched ad after ad, making calls all day for a week straight, but at the end, you always went to bed with the thought that you’ll have to live under a bridge through the first semester of your freshman year.

It was until a friend of yours, Rita, who was mature enough to apply to the dormitory in time called you with the best news you could receive.

“This friend of my future roomie is looking for a flat mate. You gave me his number, maybe you could give him a call and see if the room is still available. Just tell him Kimberly gave you his number, I’m sure he’ll offer you the room on a nicer price.”

“Oh my God, you just saved my life!” you gasped, almost feeling like crying. “I owe you big time, Rita!”

You called right away, not wanting to waste any time and maybe have the room already rented by then. A deep, male voice answered the call in a soothing British accent.

“Harry Styles,” he said in a calm tone.

“Hey! My name is Y/N and I got your number from Kimberly. I’m looking for a place to live from September and I was told you have a room to rent?”

Harry sounded a little hesitant at first, asked a few questions about you to have a better picture of you, but eventually offered the room. You quickly agreed that you’d be able to move in at the end of August. You were thankful you had one less worry about school finally.

August rolled around the corner faster than you expected and in no time, half your life was packed up into boxes and suitcases as you and your dad drove two hours on a Saturday to get you all settled in your new home. Up until this point, you hadn’t seen Harry just yet. Though you did search up his name, but he was the kind to never post about himself, but mostly about guitars, landscapes and animals. His Instagram was dry, no trait of what he looked like or even the slightest hint about himself. There was only one photo that featured the outline of a guy, which makes it clear that the person was fully naked, no trace of any clothes hanging on his body, but it was completely dark, so nothing could be really seen. However the tag on the figure made you think it wasn’t him, so it didn’t matter. His Facebook seemed even sadder, barely any posts, not even a decent profile picture. You were surprised to see there are people who don’t really use social media, but you didn’t take it as a bad sign. Harry must be a private person and you had nothing against that.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea to move in with a guy you’ve never met before?” your dad asks as the two of you are unloading the car in front of the apartment complex. Glancing up you shrug your shoulders with a little excitement, knowing that you are only minutes away from finally seeing the person you are gonna spend your next months living with.

“He sounded like a decent person, and I really don’t have any other choice, dad. Or do you want me to sleep in a park or something?”

“God, no. You really should be more careful about those deadlines next time,” he sighs kissing the top of your head before shutting the back of the car once everything is set on the ground.

“Don’t worry, I already bought a calendar so I can keep better track of everything.”

When you first told your parents that you’d be living with Harry, they didn’t seem to be a fan of the idea, but they realized you weren’t really swimming in options at the moment so they eventually come to peace that their daughter is going to be living with a guy. They didn’t make a big deal out of it, knowing well you were an adult now practically who can make choices for herself.

The two of you manage to bring everything up to the third floor and you ring the doorbell since you don’t have your keys yet. You immediately recognize Harry’s British accent as he calls out a “coming!” from the other side of the door and a few seconds later it opens, revealing him.

Your first thought is that he is tall. Very tall and oh my! How handsome! His green eyes find your gaze and his dimples come out as he smiles at you happily. This man is surely a nice sight, you think to yourself, but you quickly bring yourself back to reality as he takes a look at all the stuff surrounding you.

“Y/N, why didn’t you call me that you were here? I could have helped you!” Taking a step outside he stretches his hand out for your dad. “Nice to meet ya, you must be Mr. Y/L/N. I’m Harry.”

“Nice to meet you,” your dad nods at him shaking his head before Harry grabs a box from the floor himself, holding the door open for you.

“Come on in!”

The three of you quickly bring everything inside from the hallway and you finally have a moment to look around. It’s not a big apartment, but seemingly perfect for two people. Walking in you have a small kitchen on the left and a little dining area on the right with a simple table and four chairs around it. Further inside is the living room, it’s nicely furnished very bright thanks to the large windows across the front door. On the left there’s a door that leads to the bathroom and on the right there’s a small hallway, two doors on each side. The two rooms are exactly the same size, so there was no need to have a discussion about who is getting which room. Not that you were gonna go against Harry when he literally saved your life with letting you stay with him.

The place seems tidy and neat, it’s clear that Harry takes good care of his home and that is for sure a relief.

Your room has a double bed, a desk with a chair, a dresser and a built in little closet. Everything is white or a light beige color, nothing extreme and you already have plans about how you want to decorate it to make it cozier.

“I left two shelves free for you out of the three. I have a few hair products, but I figured you’d need more space,” Harry tells you when you put a smaller box into the bathroom that has all your toiletries.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” you smile at him.

Your dad sticks around a little longer helping you unpack some of the bigger boxes, then you walk him down to his car before he leaves.

“Please call your mother often. You know how much she worries about you,” he asks as he pulls you into a quick hug.

“Will do.”

“And call us anytime you need help. Two hours is not that far away, I can always come and get you.”

“I’ll be alright, dad, but thank you.”

You watch him climb into the car and he rolls down the windows waving in your way as he leaves from the parking lot. You stand there until he disappears on the corner and then go back up to your apartment.

Harry is sitting in the living room when you get back, some quiet music playing from the Bluetooth speaker as he reads a book. He glances up at you and you flash him a smile closing the door behind you.

“Your dad seemed quite okay with you living with a guy.”

“He had time to get used to it. They’re not that strict though.”

“That’s cool. I was thinking, maybe we could order some food when you’re done unpacking and just get to know each other a little more.”

“That sounds great!” you smile, but can’t ignore how fast your heart is beating in your chest. Harry surely has an effect on you that you’ll need to gain control over if you don’t want to make living together hard for yourself.

It takes quite some time to unpack everything and find the right place for your stuff, you don’t even finish by the time the food arrives so you decide to leave the rest for tomorrow.

The Chinese food is all set on the table when you walk out and Harry is getting two plates for the two of you.

“Settled in?” he asks as you take one of the chairs and he sits across you.

“Not fully, but I’m getting there,” you chuckle as he hands you your order. “Thank you.”

You talk over the food, just getting to know each other and you finally get a better picture of Harry. It’s his third year of college, he is studying music and pedagogy, intending to one day use music as a helping tool for kids who have learning difficulties. He is a big fan of collecting vinyls and quite passionate about trashy rom coms.

“Really?” you chuckle when he mentions how his Netflix queue is filled with romantic movies.

“Guilty pleasure,” he nods smirking.

You tell a little about yourself too and he seems genuinely interested, which feels nice. You would have hated if he found your interests boring and negligible, but that’s not the case.

“How come you couldn’t find a roommate for so long?” you ask the question that’s been in the back of your mind for quite a while now. Both of you are done eating and you’re cleaning up the table.

Nothing really stood out about Harry just yet, it’s quite a mystery for you why he couldn’t find someone to live with him.

“Well, you could say I’m a little picky in this field. Lived with my best mate first year, and though I absolutely love him, he was horrible to live with. Felt like his personal maid the whole time. When Niall moved in with his girlfriend and I had to move on my own I promised myself I would choose carefully. Lived with a PhD student last year, he was pretty great, but he moved out when he graduated, and I couldn’t really find someone I liked since then.”

“Glad I passed then,” you chuckle as you take the dishes and start washing them while Harry stands next to you, leaning against the edge of the counter.

“You seemed like a decent person to live with, I hope I won’t be wrong about that,” he chuckles, but you can tell he is still a little scared you might turn out to be a total asshole.

“Don’t worry, I won’t be too much trouble. I’m quiet like a mouse and clean up after myself.”

“That’s all that matters,” he smiles. “Alright, I have some things to finish, I’ll be in my room if you need help with anything.”

“Thank you, Harry.”

He waves in your way before disappearing in his bedroom.

You spend most of your Sunday unpacking what was left and running errands, buying groceries so you don’t have to go to the store every other day during the week. You occasionally meet Harry in the kitchen or the living room, but you both just do your own thing and it’s totally fine by you.

School starts quiet smoothly, Harry was kind enough to give you a rundown of where you’ll find your lecture halls so you don’t really get lost around campus, easily finding your way.

Friday afternoon you and Rita are sitting at a café near campus to discuss the first week of school. You don’t have any classes together, so only grabbed lunch two times all week, but didn’t have more than twenty minutes together before one of you had to run to a class. Now you are both comfortably sat in a booth with two cappuccinos and plenty of time to talk.

“So, how is living with Harry?” she curiously asks.

“He is great! Though we don’t meet that much. He has a band so he has practice three times a week, spends the rest of his time at home reading or watching TV.”

You ate dinner together twice this week, but you haven’t really had the courage to join him in the living room when he was watching TV. It sounds stupid but you figured maybe it would bother him if you were out there with him. And since he didn’t invite you either, you just stayed in your room mostly.

“Kimberly told me he is hot, is that true?” she asks with a smirk as she takes a sip from her hot drink. You immediately feel your cheeks heating up.

“Well, he surely is a good looking guy,” you breathe out.

“Lucky you! There’s not much of those in an all girls dorm,” she pouts and you chuckle. “So are you gonna make a move on him?”

“That’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head laughing.

“Why not?”

“Because we live together and if he rejects me that would be so awkward for the rest of our time living together.”

“But you can’t know for sure if he would reject,” she points out, but she can’t bring up one thing that would change your mind.

“It’s better not to take the odds. I don’t want to end up on the street.”

As the days go by, things start to get busier in your everydays. Assignments and papers start to pile up so you have to start working on them if you don’t want to leave everything to the last moment. You become a regular in the library, the atmosphere is great for you to get into the flow and get a lot of work done.

It seems like Harry is in the same shoe, he is often in and out of the apartment, sometimes only spends home just a couple of minutes before he leaves again. However they slowly get accustomed to each other, learn the ways the other likes things and work up a schedule for things. Harry learns that Y/N likes to take a shower twice a day and washes her hair usually on Wednesdays and Sundays, so he doesn’t try to take too much time in the bathroom on those days. He also notices how she doesn’t have time to wash the dishes after herself on Thursdays when she just runs home to have a quick bite before she has to leave for another lecture, so they came to a silent agreement where Harry cleans up after her on Thursdays while she takes up on the dishes on Saturday when Harry leaves to band practice at eight.

They work well together and soon enough all of Harry’s doubts about Y/N fade into nothing and he realizes he has made the right choice with her.

Usually she stays at the library until seven on Mondays, but this week they are closing early because they are rearranging a whole department, so Y/N leaves a little after five. She pays a quick trip to the grocery store before she heads home. Opening up the door she immediately hears the music playing, one of Harry’s vinyls is twirling around in the record player and she hears the water running in the bathroom. Setting her bags on the counter she starts unpacking the groceries.

The music and the running water pushed the sound of her arriving down, Harry didn't realize that you were home early when he opens the bathroom door, singing to himself wearing absolutely nothing as he wants to go and grab a pair of clean underwear, but he is shocked to see you standing in the kitchen.

“Shit!” he snaps, hands immediately flying to cover himself as he sprints back to the bathroom quickly grabbing a towel to wrap around his waist.

Your cheeks are heating up immediately even though you didn’t see anything you weren’t supposed to, the counter top covered him just right above the critical line, but it’s the first time you’ve seen his upper body completely naked.

Even though it was just a spit second, the sight of his many tattoos and the defined V-line leading down to his crotch burned straight into your mind, leaving you flustered and shy all of a sudden.

“Sorry! I should have let you know I was coming home early!” you call out turning around, as if he was about to walk out naked again. Harry chuckles lightly as he returns, this time a towel wrapped around his waist.

“Don’t be silly, you don’t have to check in when you come home. It was my fault, I shouldn’t just walk around naked assuming you wouldn’t be home.”

You should, you think to yourself gulping as you turn around and dare to look at him again. You don’t see less than just a few seconds ago, his chest is glistening from the dampness, his curls are still wet and you are having a hard time not to stare at the tattoos on his lower stomach, so you busy yourself with the rest of your groceries as he walks into his room and returns in a pair of sweats and a white t-shirt.

“Any plans for the weekend?” he asks disappearing in the bathroom, but he leaves the door open and you hear him shuffle around, probably fixing up his hair. He uses some kind of mousse that keeps his curls perfectly and also happens to smell like mango and some kind of citrus.

“Um, not really.”

“We’re playing at this bar with the band, wanna come and watch us?” Walking out of the bathroom he switches the light off before walking to the couch and opening up his Netflix account on the TV. His invitation surprises you, but it also feels nice he wants you there.

“Oh, sounds fun! Can I bring someone?”

“Of course! I can have a table reserved for you, if you’d like,” he smiles at you before turning his attention to the screen.

“That would be great, thanks.”

You feel like after your little encounter it’s probably not the best day to join him at the TV, especially because you can’t stop yourself from blushing every time you look at him. The sight of his naked torso pops up in your mind every time and there’s no way you can just casually sit on the couch with him without your body lighting up on fire.

Rita is excited when you tell her about the invitation, you don’t even have to convince her to go with you since she is dying to finally meet Harry. When he leaves in the early afternoon on Saturday he assures you that there’s gonna be a table reserved under your name, and off he goes to practice, leaving you alone for the rest of the day since he tells you he won’t be back before the concert tonight. Rita comes over around six and the two of you get ready together.

“You have to wear something spicy,” she wiggles her eyebrows at you while you sit at your desk applying mascara to your lashes.

“I don’t want to overdress, it’s just a bar.”

“Yeah, but Harry invited you. I bet he wants you to see him play.”

“Of course he wants, why else would he invite me?” you ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“You don’t get it,” she chuckles turning to you, hands on her hips. “He wants you to see him play because it feeds his ego. Maybe even turns him on.”

“Stop acting like there is anything between us. We are flatmates and that’s all.”

“I think he wants to be more, you’re just too pussy to make a move yourself,” she shrugs turning back to your closet.

“Stop calling me a pussy for not wanting to make it awkward for the two of us to live together. I’m pretty sure Harry doesn’t see me as anything more than just the person he lives with.”

“Then we have to change that. And I think this is the perfect dress for that.”

Rita pulls out a little black dress you bought about a year ago, but never really got around to wear it. It’s so tight, pushes your tits up way too much for your liking, you’re not even sure why you bought it in the first place.

“I’m not wearing that,” you shake your head.

“Are you afraid he might get a boner from you in it?”

“Rita!” you snap at her, but she just chuckles.

“Look, if you’re so sure he doesn’t want you like that, why does it matter what you wear?”

She has a point. It’s not like this dress will change anything and it would be nice to wear at least once in your life this stupid dress if you bought it.

Grabbing it from her hands you throw it to the bed and start undressing as she claps in victory.

You remembered right, the dress leaves close to nothing to the imagination when it comes to your figure. The fabric hugs your figure tightly, and you put on a lacy bralette that peeks out at the top of the dress, kind of covering some more from your skin, since the dress doesn’t do much in that field itself. Rita tries to convince you not to take a jacket, but you throw your denim jacket on, feeling the need to have something give you the slightest sense of being covered.

You arrive at the bar twenty minutes before the concert starts and it’s a good thing Harry reserved a table for you, because the place is packed. You’re not sure if it’s because of them or it’s just a regular Saturday evening.

The little stage is all set up, but you see no sign of Harry anywhere as the two of you settle at your table with a drink. Luckily, the bartender did not ask for an ID, he was too busy looking at your chest. At least there’s one good thing in this dress.

The drum set at the back has the name of the band on it and you smile reading it. The word ‘Stylish’ is printed on it with bold blue letters, referring to Harry’s last name, who is most likely the front man of the band.

The place is buzzing and the two of you enjoy being out at a bar concert. When the lights go down you finally spot him walking out of the back followed by a guy and two girls.

“Welcome, folks,” he greets the audience, his accent filling up the place over the chatters. A round of cheering answers him, making him smile. “Thank you for coming out tonight, we hope to entertain you in the next hour. Our name is Stylish and now let’s get down to business,” he smirks and just as he takes a step back from the mic, the band starts playing. Harry grabs a guitar himself before stepping back to the mic and then he starts singing.

They play a mixture of covers and original songs, the transition between them is so smooth you sometimes forget it’s a whole different song that’s playing. Harry is clearly enjoying the spotlight, his presence on the stage is so natural and capturing, you often catch yourself forgetting about the rest of the band.

One song follows the other and you don’t even realize how fast this hour passes by. Harry sometimes stops in-between songs, entertaining the audience with small jokes and just casually interacting with them.

“Our last song is up next, so let me take a moment to introduce the band,” Harry speaks into the mic while softly playing the guitar so it’s not completely quiet as he talks. “At the drums, the amazing and talented Sarah Jones!”

A round of applause fills the bar as Sara waves around smiling widely, before Harry moves on to the next member.

“Playing the piano, the wonderful Charlotte Clark!”

Charlotte plays a short melody on the keys matching up with what Harry has been playing, before she also waves at the audience.

“The guy who is a way better guitarist than me, Mitch Rowland.”

Harry’s comment makes the audience laugh and Mitch just nods shyly, a smile pulling on his lips under his mustache.

“And this handsome Brit who sometimes acts like a comedian,” Sarah starts leaning closer to her mic. “Harry Styles.”

It’s no surprise that Harry gets the biggest cheering and he smirks sweetly, his fingers still strumming on the guitar. The clapping and screaming slowly dies down and as Harry steps back to his mic they start the last song.

It’s quite an upbeat, funky song, you just can’t resist dancing around on your chair and seemingly Rita is enjoying herself as well, cheering with her beer in her hand. The song comes to an end and they all line up at the front of the stage bowing down together as the whole bar cheers on them as one person.

“Woah, this was… something else,” Rita breathes out once they disappear at the back and chatter fills up the place once again and the lights come back.

“They smashed it!” you nod in agreement. You figured they are good if they get asked to perform, but this was way beyond what you were expecting.

Looking around you are hoping to see Harry somewhere, but they must be celebrating somewhere at the back. Maybe he won’t even come out, you think to yourself as you finish up your beer.

“I’ll get us another round,” you tell Rita as you make your way to the bar.

There are quite a few people waiting to be served, so you squeeze yourself into the crowd and hope to get to the front soon.

“So how did you like it?”

You jump in surprise when you hear Harry’s voice coming from behind you, and turning around you see how close he is standing to you.

“Hi! I didn’t even see you sneak up on me,” you chuckle making him smile as he squeezes himself next to you. The two of you finally reach the front, but the bartender is serving someone a little on the left so you have to wait. “I loved it, you were like a proper rockstar up there!”

“Thanks,” he chuckles and his dimples show up on his cheeks. The bartender finally gets to you and Harry is quick to order for the both of you. “’S probably better if I place the order since you’re not twenty one just yet.”

“Didn’t have any problem ordering the first time,” you smirk smugly and Harry raises his eyebrows at you before his eyes wander down your body for a second.

“I bet you didn’t in this dress.”

Suddenly, you’re very aware of how daring your outfit looks, so out of reflex, you pull your jacket tighter on yourself, Harry’s smile quickly fades as he realizes that he made you uncomfortable with his comment.

“I meant that you look really pretty. Definitely makes you appear a little older though.”

“My friend wanted me to wear it, I would have been fine with something else,” you admit as the bartender places your order in front of you and Harry pays for the whole thing.

“Glad she convinced you,” he grins down at you and you can feel your cheeks heating up once again.

He helps you carry the drinks to the table and Rita quickly puts her phone away when she sees who you are returning with.

“Harry, this is my friend, Rita. Rita, this is Harry,” you introduce them and Harry shakes her head smiling.

“Nice to meet you,” he nods kindly.

“Oh, same goes for you,” Rita smirks and you roll your eyes at her.

“I’ll go get the rest of the band, do you mind if we join you guys here? There are no empty tables.”

“Sure,” you nod smiling before the crowd swallows Harry.

“For fuck’s sake, you have to make a move on him, Y/N!” Rita turns to you as soon as he is gone.

“Would you stop?” you chuckle.

“No! This dude is so hot I forget my name when I look at him! And you live with him! You can’t miss this chance, Y/N.”

“I’m not missing anything. We live together, it’s not worth it.”

“Not missing anything?” Rita looks at you as if you were mental. “You are literally missing everything!”

“I’m done with this conversation,” you tell him just when Harry appears again, this time with two of his bandmates, Sarah and Mitch are following him smiling, hand in hand.

“Charlotte had to leave early, but this is Sarah and Mitch,” Harry introduces them as they join the two of you at the table. “And this is my flatmate, Y/N and her friend Rita.”

You all shake hands as Harry sorts out the extra beers he has ordered so everyone has a drink on their hand.

It’s no surprise, but Sarah and Mitch prove themselves to be just as cool as they seemed up on the stage. And the best thing is that they don’t shy away from sharing funny stories that include Harry.

“So have you been looking for a new place to stay, Y/N?” Mitch jokes. “I’m sure you’ve had enough of Harry by now.”

“Very funny,” Harry laughs at his bandmate’s comment.

“To be honest it’s pretty fine so far. He is a pleasant person to share your home with,” you say with a soft chuckle.

“What’s one thing you hate about living with him?” Sarah asks and Harry pretends to be hurt over the question.

“Who said there’s anything she hates?”

“Shush, I was asking her!” she hushes at him making you laugh.

“I really can’t point out anything in particular. Maybe he has been very careful, luring me into believing that he is the perfect flatmate so I get stuck with him.”

You stay for a while, just chatting and having a good time until the bar starts to empty out and you decide it’s better if you head home as well.

“We have to take care of the equipment, are you leaving or do you want to wait for me?” Harry asks you.

“We’ll just call an Uber, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Alright, see you at home.”

You say goodbye to Sarah and Mitch and part your ways with them as you and Rite head outside.

“I hope you noticed how Harry was looking at you,” Rita smirks at you when the two of you are sitting at the back of the Uber.

“What are you talking about?” you sigh leaning your head against the seat.

“I caught him staring at you quite a few times.”

“He was just probably looking at me when I was talking. Don’t try to talk something into it that’s not true.”

“Alright, I’ll stop,” she replies holding up her hands. “But I still think you are missing out on some amazing dick.”

You awkwardly glance at the driver who is hearing everything you say, but Rita seemingly doesn’t mind that you’re not alone.

“You know what? We should give Tinder a try.”

“What? Why?”

“If you don’t want to make a move on your hot flatmate, we need to get some satisfaction from others.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”

“Oh, you are not,” she chuckles. “But you will be when you match with the hottest guys on campus.”

You let Rita believe that she convinced you to sign up for Tinder, but you get out of the car with the intention of never downloading the app, like ever.

Walking into the apartment you grab a clean, oversized t-shirt and a pair of panties since your sleeping shorts are all dirty, but you were planning to do the laundry tomorrow. You decide it’s not a big deal and the shirt will probably cover enough of your body.

You take a quick shower to get off the thick smell of the bar that’s stuck on your skin, taking your time moisturizing yourself once you’re done. When you get dressed you see that the shirt does cover your bum, but if you lifted your arms up it surely shows a big portion of your ass, so you’ll have to be careful if Harry arrives.

You’re lounging on the couch watching a rerun of House M.D. and scrolling through your phone when Harry arrives.

“Hey there, rockstar!” you greet him teasingly and he just chuckles shyly.

“Is it gonna be my new nickname?”

“Well, you really were one tonight, so I think yes,” you nod making him laugh. Walking further inside his eyes stop on your bare legs and he is quick to notice that you’re not wearing any pants, like you usually do. You immediately tug on the end of the shirt to cover more of your skin, but it’s not really working.

“Ehm, I’ll go and take a quick shower,” he informs you before disappearing in his room first and then rushing into the bathroom.

Looking down at your attire you decide it’ll be better if you threw on some sweats. Harry clearly got a little uncomfortable seeing you so bare, so it’s better to cover up. You’ll just take them off when you go to bed.

Harry doesn’t take too long in there, and when he joins you on the couch you are pretty sure he took a cold shower since no steam followed him when he left the bathroom. His eyes flicker to your now covered legs, but he doesn’t say anything, just makes himself comfortable next to you.

“You like it?” he asks nodding at the TV.

“Yeah, he is such an asshole, but it’s funny,” you huff. “Hey, I took a few pictures tonight. Wanna see if you like any of them?”

“Sure,” he nods pushing himself up a little as you unlock your phone and show him the photos you took of him and the band while performing.

Some of them ended up really cool, you were able to catch the lights and their movements just the right way, especially one stands out where he was holding out a note, basically screaming into the mic, he really looks like a rockstar on that one.

“Can you send me this one?”

“Done,” you smile at him and glancing over you see that he opens the Instagram app on his phone. You watch him crop and adjust it a little bit, then tag his bandmates and finally, he posts it.

“Wow, this is the first picture on your page with you actually on it,” you tease him.

“So you’ve been stalking my profile?” he smirks at you.

“I wanted to check you out before I moved in, but your social media was no help in that.”

“Yeah, I’m not a fan of posting that much, but this was a cool picture.”

“It’s an honor to know that I took the first one featuring you.”

“Actually, this is the second one, but it is the first one where my face is visible,” Harry tells you before turning his attention back to the TV, but the gears start to turn wildly in your mind, trying to remember which picture could be the other one.

Later, when you’re lying in your bed with your door closed, you pull up his profile and stat scrolling down. Most of the pictures fall out, because they have absolutely no trace of any human being on them. But then you stop at the one that features a black silhouette of a man, the one you thought wasn’t him.

Opening up you tap on the tag and see that it leads to Mitch’s profile, but now that you’ve met him, you’re pretty sure it’s not him in the picture. So you take a closer look and as you go over the small details, like the line of his neck, how wide his shoulders are and the untamed curls, you soon realize that it is indeed Harry in the photo.

You push down a moan when realization sets in, because that means that you’re staring at the naked silhouette of Harry and it immediately starts a fire between your legs.

“Jesus,” you whisper as you let yourself stare at the photo a little longer. You weren’t expecting it, but it’s surely making you feel some kind of way.

Locking your phone you throw it to your nightstand before you bury your head into your pillow. You have to press your thighs together quite tightly to make the throbbing sensation stop so you can finally fall asleep. Well, it takes some time before that happens and it’s quite torturous.

Unlike how you planned, Rita finally gets you to download Tinder and give it a try. She helps you set up your profile, and though at first it feels incredibly awkward, you slowly adjust to being out there on the virtual market.

You start swiping left and right whenever you are bored during classes or you’re having a break from studying. Your matches start to pile up and soon enough you start getting messages as well. You reply to the ones you like or find funny and creative, giving them a chance, but not many end up going too far. Somehow the conversations always die down and you lose interest in the person.

Only one guy gets as far as asking you out and getting a yes as an answer. Jordan is a physics major and seemed like a nice and funny guy through the messages, good-looking too, so you decided to give it a go.

So Friday evening you dolled yourself up, put on a nice blouse with your favorite skinny jeans and black heels, ready to head out to your first ever Tinder date.

As you walk out of your room you find Harry in the kitchen in his basketball shorts and a simple black t-shirt making himself a cup of tea. The shorts are hanging low on his waist and as he reaches up to get the hones from the cupboard you get a glimpse of the soft skin on his lower waist. You quickly look away before you could have any further thoughts about what else is under the waistband of his shorts.

“Oh, where are you heading all dressed up?” he asks, eyebrows raised.

“I actually have a date,” you admit nervously as you grab your keys and put it away in your purse.

“Lucky guy,” he smiles and you can feel your cheeks heating up again. There’s just something in the way he compliments you, it makes your knees go jelly.

“Thanks. I’ll see you later? I’m not sure when I’ll be back,” you tell him grabbing your jacket from the hanger next to the front door.

“Have fun,” he nods before you walk out.

Jordan proves himself to be quite frankly the same guy you got to know through messages. He takes you to this Mexican themed bar and you are just chatting over some exciting looking cocktails, but you find yourself zoning out sometimes.

What is Harry doing right now? Is he staying at home? I should have asked if he had any plans. Maybe he is hooking up with someone right now.

You find yourself thinking about way more than you probably should and it’s making you lose your shit. So maybe this is why, or because Rita told you to just go with the flow, but when Jordan asks if you want to go up to his place you say yes.

It’s as awkward and bad as you were expecting, unfortunately. There’s a reason why you don’t hook up with every random guy you go out with once. You are totally on different pages, but when you are lying under him on his bed, you just know there’s no way out.

It’s not that he forces you, because you’re sure he would have stopped if you asked, but it would be so awkward to just walk out because you weren’t feeling the vibe. So at least one of you should enjoy it.

You should deserve an Oscar for that orgasm you fake, it’s so believable. Jordan doesn’t seem to notice that you felt absolutely nothing, just frustration and impatience, he tries to make you stay the night, but you save yourself with a lie that you have to wake up early in the morning so it’s best if you head home.

Your frustration just grows on your way home. You were really hoping to get laid tonight, so maybe that could stop you from fantasizing about Harry, because your thoughts have been wild since you found out that he is the one on that Instagram picture. It doesn’t help that he has been walking around shirtless quite a lot.

Shameful or not, you even touched yourself once thinking about him. You were home alone after a particularly boring day so you thought you’d just get yourself off. Before you could realize where your thoughts have wandered, you were moaning his name as you came hard. You couldn’t look into his eyes that day when he came home, he probably thought you were nuts, basically running away from him.

It’s almost midnight when you get back home, you were expecting Harry to be asleep by now since he has band practice in the morning, but you are surprised to see light coming from his room. As you close the front door, kicking your heels off he walks out, of course, without a shirt, his glorious body on full display.

“Hey, how was your date?” he asks as you step to the fridge to get yourself something to drink. You’ve been so damn thirsty since Jordan was… done with you, you could have asked for some water at least, but you just wanted to leave as fast as possible.

“Ugh, don’t even ask,” you whine, leaning against the counter.

“That bad?”

“Worse,” you roll your eyes and Harry chuckles softly.

“Come on, it couldn’t be that bad if you came home so late.”

“Well, it did start off nice, but I shouldn’t have said yes when he asked if I wanted to go to his place.”

“Oh.”

“Worst sex of my life, I wanted out the moment we arrived, to be honest,” you honestly say, feeling a little weird that you’re talking to Harry about it, but you just want to get it off your chest.

“Then why didn’t you just leave?”

“Dunno, I just… I was hoping for just a little satisfaction, but I guess I asked for too much,” you sigh finishing up your water and you walk past him with the intention to grab your pajamas and have a shower that would wash away the happenings of the night, but Harry’s voice stops you.

“Not everything is lost just yet.” Turning around you give him a puzzled look.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He bites into his bottom lip and lets his eyes travel down your body, his intent gaze sends a shiver down your spine. When his eyes return to your gaze your heart is wildly beating against your chest.

“I mean that… I can make you feel good, if you want.”

Your mouth hangs open and your eyebrows shoot up at the blunt offer he just made. At first you’re not even sure you heard him right, but as you replay his words you realize that you indeed heard him crystal clear.

“Are you messing with me right now?” you ask, feeling like it’s all just a joke. He did not just offer to satisfy you because you complained to him about how bad your date was.

Harry takes a few steps closer to you, a small smirk tugging on his lips.

“Not really. You want to get off and I would love to be the one to help you with it.”

“But… we live together,” you say and realize how stupid this just sounded, but you hope he gets what you were trying to say.

“So? Does that mean we can’t fuck?”

The way he said that makes your legs go weak for sure. You’ve been fantasizing about things similar to this, but those were nowhere near to actually hear him propose the idea of fucking.

“But… it’ll be weird, won’t it?”

“Only if we make it.”

He walks closer, closing the distance between the two of you and he cups your cheek in his hand as his eyes flicker down to your lips.

“Harry…” you breathe out, but you already know you gave in. There’s no way you can say him no, not after weeks of dreaming about the exact same thing.

“Just stop thinking,” he tells you before pressing his lips against yours.

He kisses you hard and you gladly let his tongue push into your mouth within a second, kissing him back with the same passion. You wrap your arms around his neck as his hands travel down on your sides until they reach your ass and they give it a bold squeeze, making you moan into his lips. You feel him grin as his hands move over to your thighs and he urges you to jump and so you do, wrapping your legs around his waist.

Though you keep your eyes closed, kissing him hard, you can tell he brings you to the couch, laying you down to your back, holding himself up above you. He starts kissing down your jawline and neck, sucking and biting on the sensitive skin. His hands grab the hem of your shirt and you lift yourself up a bit so he can pull it off, throwing it away to somewhere behind the couch. While his lips are sucking on your breasts wherever they are bulging out from the lacy bra, his hands work fast on your jeans, undoing the button and the zipper, tugging them down until you can just kick them right off.

“Matching set? You were really counting on having a good time tonight,” he mumbles against your tummy as he kisses his way down on your body.

His right hand reaches up and cups your breast before it slides under you and easily unclasps your bra. You quickly slide the straps off and throw it to the side, so now you are lying under him only in your panties, whimpering and panting at every kiss he leaves on your body.

“What do you want, Y/N?” he hums glancing up at you, sitting between your legs as he slides just one finger over your soaking wet panties, running it along your throbbing center.

“Fuck, I want you,” you breathe out.

“How exactly do you want me?”

“Jesus, just eat me out, Harry!” you shamelessly moan and he smugly smirks before he hooks his fingers into your panties and pulls them down, throwing it to the ground.

Now you’re lying completely naked in front of him, and he pushes your knees farther apart, looking down at you with lustful eyes.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do this,” he growls as he gets closer and without a warning, he licks into you.

You moan in sensation as he starts sucking on your clit, his tongue working perfectly against your bud. Your hands find their way into his hair and you grab a handful of it in each. Oh, how many times you’ve thought about doing this!

“Harry!” you cry out when you feel him push a finger into you, slowly pumping it in and out a few times before he adds another to it. He quickly picks up his pace as he keeps sucking on your clit, getting you closer to your orgasm with every lick.

“Fuck, I’m so close!” you moan, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you struggle to even breathe.

“Cum for me, baby,” he mumbles against your wet clit and just a few more pumps later you came, screaming his name.

“Fucking hell, Harry!” you breathe out when he climbs up on you smirking.

“You think you can handle another one?” he asks, pecking your lips softly. Looking down you see how hard he is and even if you were on the verge of dying you would have said yes. There’s no way you let him get up from this couch unsatisfied after the orgasm he just gave you.

Instead of saying anything, you push on him until he is sitting on the couch and you have your knees on his sides.

“I think you are a little overdressed, aren’t you?” you ask teasingly as you bring a hand down to his erection, cupping it through his shorts and underwear.

Harry cranes his neck so his lips could meet yours again as he lifts his hips up, pushing his shorts down along with his boxers. You sit back down to his lap and his erection presses against your wet folds making you moan into his mouth.

“Do you want me to suck you off?” you ask breathlessly, but Harry shakes his head.

“I would last, I just want to fuck you,” he growls and you swear to God that was the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

“Condom, we need a condom,” you tell him, still kissing his lips.

You get off him and he quickly runs into his room, shortly returning with a condom between his teeth. He rips the package on his way and falls back to the couch, rolling it on carefully. When he is done you swing your leg over him and get on top again, holding onto his broad shoulders. He grabs the base of his cock and lines himself up to your center and you give yourself a moment to admire his naked beauty right in front of you.

You look into his sparkling eyes and leaning down you kiss him hard as you slowly ease down to his length, his cock slowly filling you up fully.

“Oh fuck!” he moans at the feeling of you around him. His fingers dig deep into your waist as you stay still for a few moments, adjusting to his length. “You alright?” he asks breathlessly. Your eyes meet his and you nod a little before you start moving.

It takes a few moments to find the right pace and get yourself comfortable, but when you finally do, you just can’t stop. His hands are on your ass as he guides your hips a little and you feel the rings on his fingers against your heated skin. He buries his face into your neck nibbling and kissing on the soft skin wherever he reaches.

“Fuck, you look so fucking hot, Y/N,” he grunts when you let your head fall back, feeling your orgasm slowly building up again.

“Harry, I’m gonna cum again,” you pant, picking up a faster pace, desperate for release.

“Cum for me, baby. Let me make you feel good!” he moans wrapping his arms around you as he holds you still, stopping you from moving, but instead he starts thrusting into you, his cock buries so deep into your pussy, your eyes roll back into your head from the feeling.

“Yes! Don’t fucking stop!” you scream as he keeps fucking you hard.

It doesn’t take too long until you fall completely apart and cum again, your legs basically turning into jelly. Just a few thrusts later Harry cums as well, thrusting deep into you a few more times as he moans into your neck.

You lie completely numb on him, his fingers gently stroking your naked back as you try to come back to reality. When you lean back and your eyes meet again you are still speechless.

“I’ve literally wanted it since the day you walked into this place,” he admits with a soft chuckle.

“Really?” you giggle shyly.

“Oh, really. Seeing you around, sometimes without a bra under your shirt completely killed me most of the time.”

Your cheeks are heating up, you didn’t think he noticed when you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Don’t be so shy, you have amazing tits, you are not allowed to wear a bra anymore around here,” he teases you grinning as you laugh and leaning down you kiss him shortly.

“I had quite a few fantasies about you too,” you admit making him raise his eyebrows.

“Really?”

“Mhm, especially after you walked out of the bathroom naked, even though I didn’t even see your dick then.”

Harry chuckles lightly as he pushes his hair back from his forehead, resting his head against the back of the couch.

“So…” you shyly start, ”what now?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that… we live together and we just fucked. What does this mean for the future?”

“Well, I thought that next time we could do it the right way. I could take you out on a proper date, and then fuck you on the kitchen counter.”

You laugh at how blunt he is, but you love the idea he just proposed.

“Okay. Sounds fine by me.”

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles fiction #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fic #harry styles au #harry styles x you #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #harry styles flatmates au #harry styles friends to lovers

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laurelier · 2 years

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RGB reality: Our Flag Means Death x The Matrix

Back with more on color symbolism because I can’t stop thinking about it, there’s nothing in my head there is nothing behind my eyes rn but the ridiculous color work in OFMD and so today I’m reflecting a bit on red, blue, and green in the show’s visuals. @weirdgirlcore and others have already written at length about red, here, and blue, here, and this is going to take a lot of that work as reference points because I’d never have been able to come up with all of that on my own, lmao— but something I haven’t yet seen discussed directly (though that may just be due to a combination of my own laziness and tumblr’s subpar search mechanism) is the fact that each romantic pairing on the Revenge is made up of one red-coded and one blue-coded character.

And, like, I see red and blue and my brain goes straight to the Matrix red-pill-blue-pill scene*— bc that movie is a goldmine of cinematic allegorical philosophical personal identity-related concepts, it’s so rich. Red, blue, and green take up the most space in the color landscape of that film, and I think it’s really interesting to do a side-by-side with OFMD’s and The Matrix’s uses of these three colors, given a few posts I’ve seen about the parallels between OFMD and other well-known media— to start, Mad Max and Ed’s costume hi @notcuddles and here too @taititi (feat. @fuckyeahisawthat tags), as well as this on the role of the Pinocchio story by @sitzfleischh. So. This post focuses mostly on our canonical OFMD couples, exploring a little bit more what red, blue, and green might mean for them.

Under the cut— follow me down this lil rabbit hole and I’ll attempt to explain with some coherence, but to paraphrase Morpheus, you gotta see it for yourself.

*A little disclaimer: in doing research for this post I was made aware of the history of the “redpill” meme, and I hope it’s obvious but still want to be clear that nothing I am about to write in this meta has anything to do with the unfortunate co-opting of the symbol of the red pill by the fringe right.

Just a lil dash of color

Starting with the fact that all members of the Revenge’s crew feature red or blue somewhere in their costuming. Have this shot of them all looking mopey on the beach:

Roach said pose bitch.

And so much of the set design of the Revenge itself is red and blue, too, especially in Stede’s quarters— so, like, obvi these two colors take up a lot of space not just in Stede and Ed’s presentation (bc even there, they’re at times very subtle) but in the show at large.

Literally this room is so warm and red, this room is a heart, what is WRONG with the set designers

Which just sets the whole thing up as, like, a little universe of red-blue dichotomies: it positions the two colors as opposite, coexisting influences on OFMD’s world— and nowhere is that more operant than in the relationships between the characters.

Little lovebirds <3

On the actual ship, the most visually red/blue-coded couple is Lucius and Pete. The first time we see Pete, he’s in a greenish color, but I’ll kind of address that at the end— bc past the first episode of the show, he’s pretty reliably seen in blue.

Grumpy little grinch man does not like to sew.

As I’m looking at the blue-coded characters in that shot of the whole crew above, besides Stede, I’m seeing Buttons and Pete looking particularly ~blue. And I’m like, ok, well. Pete is less critical of/more enthusiastic about Traditionally Masculine Views of capital-P Piracy, like, as a construct, than a lot of other crewmembers, as evidenced by his stories about being a member of Blackbeard’s crew (real or not, have this interesting post by @avelera about the "Brown Peter" thing). In that little montage that he recounts to the crew about serving on Blackbeard’s ship, he makes himself into a Very Manly Ideal Version of Pete, and Blackbeard into something like a pirate god, when in reality both of them are far from that— which leads me to a working idea of what’s signaled by blue: a character who is susceptible to the allure of a set system of beliefs, an Idealized World, and who reaches for that Perfect Ideal to the detriment of their ability to exist as their real self. In the case of Pete, that’s the ~Mythos of Piracy.

Historical costuming accuracy aside, I think this sits really nicely with the fact that the British Navy wears blue. (And white, but that’s a diff conversation.) It’s a different shade than any worn by a crewmember of the Revenge, but. What better example of a repressive system of tradition and belief than a colonial, imperialistic navy?

On the other side of this is, of course, Lucius, who breaks with all of that— rather than requiring himself or others to fit into a pre-established standard, he favors emotional warmth and vulnerability; he has an ability to see people for who they really are and nurture the best in them as individuals. I agree, in short, with the many others who have theorized that Lucius captures red symbolism really well. He brings out so much softness in Pete, pulling away a bit of the carapace that years of trying to adhere to a Manly Man Pirate Standard has thrown over his soft little Pete heart, it makes me so <3.

The oranges above them while ~this~ happens make me want to go run a mile because literally yesterday I found @seriesfive post about love and oranges and OH GOD

After Lucius and Pete, there’s Olu and Jim— and the fun thing about these two is that both appear to be a pretty even mix of blue and red. Olu’s hat is pinkish red, but he’s got that gorgeous blue earring; Jim’s blue-coded (getting there in a second), but they’ve got a bit of red on their vest (you can see that when all their shit’s on the rock in ep 2 and Lucius catches them naked in the ocean, which, in hindsight, hello, this is an ocean-coded character.)

But there’s also this great shot of them at the end of ep 4 that I want to mention where you can see the very green handle of Jim’s dagger (we get a glimpse of it in ep 2 as well, coming back to that) and there’s Olu’s red hat and the rest of what they’re wearing is beige and it’s just so subtle and lovely.

Dagger at bottom left, that precious hat, the all time earring, Olu’s look of pure love, I hate all of this

Which means that, to Team Red, we can add Olu’s character traits: among other things, he represents genuine, effective leadership, because of his dependability, emotional openness, and loving nature. He is the member of the crew that just about everyone respects and trusts. He sees Jim with clear eyes, and tries to know them totally, in all that they are; he’s as much of a confidante for Stede as Lucius is, at the beginning. He is, in a word, The Best.

Teal!

With Jim, though, is where I think the symbolism of blue gets a little more layered— I, at least, didn’t really feel confident saying Jim was blue-coded until I heard them actually tell Olu that their favorite color is teal. So if blue signals a character who’s caught up in a rigid belief system, then the Logic that circumscribes Jim is that of revenge (the name of the ship, goodbye)— Nana explicitly instills the belief in Jim that they are only good for this Single Purpose, that they’re little more than a human weapon— and so just as Pete pressures himself to be a perfect pirate and fails, Jim pressures themself to be a perfect avenging assassin— and fails. Great time to link @sitzfleischh amazing post on the queer art of failure again yes linking it twice in one post because. Yes. Failure as a way for our characters to free themselves from toxic, narrow narratives about selfhood (and specifically masculinity), yes.

I loves me a thief

And if Olu is the red-coded character who supports and accompanies Jim on their arc, then Spanish Jackie is the red-coded character who, after listening with real understanding to them about their quest to avenge their family, actually convinces them to give it all up, saying:

“You can’t live like that! You got to get over it! You can’t end up like me... You don’t want that... All the revenge, and rage, and anger— it ages you, makes you boring.”

Spanish Jackie is maybe the most red-coded character on the show (it’s like, her and Evelyn, if we’re just looking at the percentage of a character’s body that’s covered in red at any given time). Her conversation with Jim is one of my favorite scenes— I think it’s so cool that it’s Jackie who finally convinces Jim to leave the revenge plot behind and live in a way that’s free of all that emotional baggage.

Also her wooden hand keeps me awake at night.

In short, Olu, Lucius, and Jackie are red-coded sources of wisdom and love: they show Jim, Stede, Pete, and Ed as well (<3) how to live better, in a way that nurtures them and helps them grow. (And really, Evelyn does the same for Mary, but, like, I don’t have space to get into that today because this post is already a book— it’s a similar dynamic, though, which I love so much. One more point for red as authenticity, self-liberation— bc Mary deserves that as much as anyone!!!).

Pirates of the rings

Finally, at long last (this post is SO long I am so sorry), we arrive at Stede and Ed, blue and red respectively. I think this way of seeing blue holds really well for Stede, because he's so bought into the Oceanic Pirate Lore thing— his whole deal is that he gives up his entire land-based life to pursue the one he’s always wanted, right, which on the surface just seems Really Gay And Great, and it is— but. There’s also this layer of self-deception to Stede’s decision to become a pirate; the fact that in his effort to become free, Stede still hasn’t shaken off the need to Become The Ideal— there’s a part of him that wants to be a perfect, almost cookie-cutter pirate, and one of his real chores, I imagine, will be accepting that he isn’t that— that that can't bring him any joy or fulfillment, because it isn't real.

Stede holds something of a one-dimensional view of himself, as, in their own ways, Pete and Jim do: Pete because of his need to adhere to Masculine Pirate Norms, Jim because they’ve never before thought of themself as good for anything besides enacting vengeance— and then there’s Stede, who has lived a whole life he never fit into, and is trying to learn about himself and mistakenly attempting to use the Established Framework of Pirate Legends and Myths to do so— he’s searching in all the wrong places, overlooking all the right (red) things.

Ok listen there are better shots of Stede’s ring in the show but this is where I really started to pay attention to the rings, so. Here’s Stede’s pretty blue-teal ring as he spies on Ed and Jack.

Ed, on the other hand, is the Pirate Ideal— his constructed appearance is, like, the definition of piracy. He holds his feelings in small hidden places on his body: the silk cloth, obviously, but also his little red ring which parallels Stede’s teal one.

Hello little ruby.

Ed’s red trajectory is one of accepting his emotionality: he is, of course, the one to first embrace how he feels about Stede, then open up to Stede in vulnerability, then once that blows up, he opens up to the crew, and it all goes haywire in the end but on the whole he’s so good at human connection, he has so much longing for it, I love him and his little red heart-on-his-finger so much.

Painfully aware rn that this is, like, such an aggressively long essay so if you’re still with me bless your soul and if your attention is wavering lemme just plug real quick that this next bit is the part that I’m real excited about and I WANTED to put it at the beginning bc I KNEW how long this would be and I couldn’t because all of ^^^^ that has to be laid out for this to make any sense, all this to say kindly bear with me, I think this is what really seals it—

Keanu Reeves gay pirate guest star when

Ok and now I am rubbing my hands together like a little squirrel because now!!! Now I get to talk directly about the symbolic compatibility happening with The Matrix here— and, like. I’m not arguing that it’s a reference, this is mostly just me holding the two up next to one another, but I do think that doing that casts OFMD in a fun light, so.

A little context on the movie, but I'll try to be brief: early on in The Matrix, our hero Neo begins to sink more and more into a creeping feeling that he is living in a dreamworld— he feels disillusioned with and disconnected from his life, for reasons he knows somewhere deep inside himself but can’t quite explain. He then finds himself on the verge of discovering what the “Matrix” actually is: a false reality that makes up the world he thought he knew, a computer simulation powered by the bodies and minds of comatose human beings on the outside. He discovers this upon meeting Morpheus, in the famous scene where Morpheus gives him a choice between taking a red pill— which will enable him to find out the truth and wake up into the world as it really is— and taking a blue pill— which will keep him safe, if still disoriented and unsatisfied, in the Matrix. Morpheus tells him:

“This is your last chance. After this, there is no turning back. You take the blue pill—the story ends, you wake up in your bed and believe whatever you want to believe. You take the red pill—you stay in Wonderland, and I show you how deep the rabbit hole goes. Remember: all I'm offering is the truth. Nothing more.”

There’s a whole other conversation to be had here about mirrors here, but.

The red pill, then, represents a willingness to face the realities of the world and of oneself in their fullness; the blue pill represents a choice to continue living by familiar frameworks and systems despite their hollowness. It resonates well, I think, with how red and blue are framed in OFMD: blue characters who move through the show guided by inflexible notions of how they’ve been told they Should Ideally Be; vs. red characters who see people As They Are, and truly accept and love them.

It is certainly worth mentioning here that the writers/directors of The Matrix have spoken about its being readable as a trans allegory: Lilly and Lana Wachowski are themselves trans, and in 2020 confirmed the influence of their experience on the movie. I myself am nonbinary, and watching this movie with a specifically trans lens, I was, like, hit in the chest a couple of times in the first bit— it is so very, very heavily saturated with themes of brave self-discovery, of unearthing parts of yourself you never dreamed you had within you, escaping a supposed Reality that just feels deeply wrong to you somehow, the very real fear and joy in all of that— and so many of these same themes guide many of the characters on OFMD, too: Stede, in leaving behind his old life; Ed, in transforming into a new version of himself, renaming himself (that moment is SO important to me); Jim, Pete, Lucius, all of them, all the embracing of self and others that the characters do as they fall in and out of love with one another over and over.

And finally, a word on green. Bc here’s the thing—

On the Revenge, notably (besides a few specific objects like Black Pete’s greenish vest in the first ep and Frenchie’s tie thing and Jim’s dagger etc etc) there is very little bright green. The main paint color of the ship itself is, like, a soft seafoam color, but for the purposes of this I’m saying I think that’s ~different, because past ep 1, bright or dark green seems to be reserved for land— especially as regards Stede and his marriage. When we see Stede in Barbados, it’s, like, the only time he consistently wears what I feel like is for-sure green, as in, I’m not looking at it and going hold on is that actually turquoise— his cravat at his wedding looks emerald, and his jacket/cravat in the scene directly following as he sits in his (green) living room with Mary are very decisive shades of green.

Also of note that Mary’s flowers are really green, too; this marriage is obvi a trap for her as well.

Green also comes up, unsurprisingly, when the crew is on land: in the forest at St. Augustine, and when they’re on the treasure hunt, for example, as well as with Calico Jack— but the instance that really gets me is, once again, on Barbados, with these lonely little plants right behind Stede and Mary’s very much not macabre wedding presents.

This makes me, like, honk laugh, I love this shot so much it is SO absurd

The last specific instance of That’s Definitely Green on the Revenge I’ll mention is in the lighthouse painting, just barely mixed in with the red there on the shore. Hi watercolor grass.

"What is it— a grain tower or something?”

Ok now the grand finale

I’m like, breaking out into a sweat typing this bc I was not even ten minutes into watching The Matrix the other day for this post when I was like, oh god— it’s green. The lighting, Neo’s clothes, the phones, the buildings, everything, down to the very code that makes it up the Matrix itself is green.

Literally those shots of green code are some of the opening shots of the movie. Neo also wears so much green early on in the Matrix, at the beginning before he chooses the red pill.

And my angsty little heart is having a genuine bona fide ball with this because in OFMD, green, to me, evokes Stede’s land-based familial obligations, the repression of his life, the isolation and spiritual decay that he feels in his Married State— which is emotionally so similar to how Neo feels, trapped in the Matrix. And thinking about how that little lighthouse painting is a confluence of blue and red and therefore of Stede and Ed, construct and reality, sea and emotion, and then there’s green right in the big middle of it makes me want to throw something— because, of course, even amidst all his self-discovery and the love he’s beginning to feel for Ed, the guilt and shame associated with Stede’s former life are still so present.

Bc just, like— just. If you put what the Matrix represents— believing lies about yourself that hollow you out, that clawing awful feeling of knowing you don’t and can’t fit in the world around you; a pervasive feeling of unreality, the influence of abusive, repressive social control— if you put that next to the moments in OFMD when green shows up most prominently— Stede’s wedding, the inside of Stede’s house, certain moments when the crew is on land having to face up to their lives pre-Revenge, the lighthouse painting— consider all that, and land as represented by green starts to look kind of like a Matrix, a fabricated simulation, a green world that Stede desperately wants to be free from and goes to great lengths to escape.

And the almost green-less Revenge’s little self-contained world is outside that of land, it’s literally a boat on the ocean— good time to mention that all the crewmembers on the Nebuchadnezzar, the spaceship thing in The Matrix, wear combinations of red and blue and beige, as the Revenge crew do, fun detail— so to come full circle with this, we can:

a) take Pete and his “I’m not fucking sewing, that’s women’s work” comment in the first ep: I think him wearing green while he’s still in this Toxically Masculine headspace works well here, given that toxic masculinity is a Huge part of the OFMD societal “Matrix”, if you will, that has so negatively impacted pretty much all of the crewmembers, and we can also—

b), take a good long look at the very bright, obvious green of the dagger that Jim uses before Lucius steals the Jiménez one back from Spanish Jackie.

Bout to lose my entire mind over this—

Like, I’m sorry, this is such a fun comparison because. The fact that Jim’s replacement dagger is green means that in each romantic pairing, we have an originally green-coded character (Stede, in his marriage to Mary; Jim, with this dagger; Pete, in his little green vest) who looks more and more visibly blue-coded as the limiting, restrictive rules that govern their worldviews and self-concepts become more and more apparent, both to themselves and to viewers. They start out, just as Neo did, caught in the green of the Matrix, not even knowing that their idea of reality isn’t real— but they feel restless and unsatisfied all the same; they then start, slowly and with the help of red-coded characters, to actively peel away the myths and calcified Requirements that have constrained them for their whole lives (toxic masculinity, revenge, lily-livered-little-rich-boy, etc.)— and begin to explore their actual selves— which is most obviously visually rendered, in my mind, when Stede makes the decision to go back to Ed, fakes his own death by dousing himself in pig’s blood while wearing that green suit.

What he does in that scene is literally an exit from the reality of Landed Life, like, everybody in the town just watched him die, so if we look at it through the Matrix lens— he took the red pill there, that’s what that was, it’s irreversible, he’s leaving the Matrix, he is covered in red now and he can’t ever go back— like, just. Have a side-by-side. Stede smearing blood all over his green outfit as he, once again, chooses to leave his suffocating land life behind? So that chromatically he reflects the green and red in the lighthouse painting? Don’t mind if I do.

There’s more to say about green while Stede’s back in Barbados at the end, like, when Mary wears it and what I think that means, but for your sake and mine, I’ll go ahead and pack it in here.

To finally conclude— really, this is all just another elaborate way to express the idea that being on the ship, together, represents a choice on the part of the (very textually LGBTQ) crew to split from the norms of being On Land because that world confines them as people, keeps them from truly seeing and accepting and celebrating themselves; they all, in their way, choose to leave behind false lives and be more of their real selves, guided by red-coded characters who directly represent a brave opening up to life, in all its glory and its gore.

Anyway. I don’t really feel as if anything I’m saying about the color work in OFMD is revolutionary here— no hot takes about what red or blue represent, and probably not green either— but. The Matrix parallels make me want to climb the walls, so I figured sharing is caring. This is the longest post on God's green earth so I will simply leave you with a little encouragement: if you made it all the way down here, thanks for reading, go forth and be red <3

#ofmd #ofmd meta #our flag means death #this........ is actually so extra but i had a Lot of fun writing it and so i am inflicting it upon you all. enjoy.#also those of you tagged in this absolute manifesto a) hello and thank you for your work! b) feel free to ignore if you so desire—#just giving credit where it's due!

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tipsydipsydo · 3 years

Text

Der Geliebte

Pairing: Jungkook x artist! Reader

Gender of the Reader: female

Word Count: 6.4k

Rating: 16+

AU: non idol! Jungkook x artist! Reader AU!

Genre: strangers to lovers AU; friends to lovers AU! (idiots to lovers AU!); love at the first sight! AU; soulmate to lovers! AU (kinda?); unbelievable amount of fluff; a little angst (fluffy angst!!,); tiny amount of smut (one paragraph xD)

Warnings: tiny bit of smut/some sexual tension between both of them; Jungkook is a poor shy thing and is fucking nervous around the reader all the time; teeth rotting fluff; both are so in love with each other that they’re getting stupid to not realize it; both are insecure that they’re not meant for another... just fluff, fluff, fluff and painfully obvious pining over each other!

A/N: Hallelujah, I finally did it! After I made Sibi @borathae wait over three months for her Christmas + Birthday Fanfic I finished it two weeks to late for my sweetest Darlings Birthday! I am so incredibly sorry that I made you wait for such a long time and really, Sweetie, you have all the rights to be still mad at my stupid ass! Nevertheless... I love you so goddamn much and I hope the fic made at least a little bit up for it... Love you!!!! 💕 💕

Summary: You and Jungkook met right at the first day you opened your own atelier in Seoul after you had to leave your old home behind you. You love paint canvas with landscape motives, other people just roll with their eyes when they hear that you choose such usual, almost boring things to paint. Not so Jungkook, he seems to be different than most of visitors. It’s almost like he can read your feelings through your paintings...

Status: Edited (I am sorry for any still existing errors in here!)

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「© tipsydipsydo」

This following story is my intellectual property and belongs only to my blog tipsydipsydo.tumblr.com!

I’ll not accept any kind of reposting, stealing or using/editing my work!

That includes reposting my content on other social media platforms too, even when you link me as the original author.

Thank you.

* Jungkook’s POV *

"In what are you getting yourself into, Jungkook?"

I quietly ask myself as I get rid of my clothes behind the paravent and throw the dressing gown over his body which you laid out for me. My hands are sweaty, they tremble slightly and my heart beats wildly, as if it wants to jump right out of my chest. Excitement spreads throughout my body, leaving a faint feeling in my stomach and a certain blush rises in my cheeks. I still can't believe what I've gotten myself into . But... you looked at me so pleadingly with your dear and downright innocent eyes that I would have done anything for you with that look of yours. I want to make you happy, see that happy and contented smile on your lips, which always makes a whole horde of wild butterflies break out in my belly. 'Normally I was the shyness and silence in person and with you... with her, I feel for the first timesomething like peace and security. Especially when I consider how shy I usually am around women.', I ask myself and I don't really know the answer to that. But what can I do against my feelings? I don't really know, on the one hand they scare me, on the other hand they feel so exciting and new that I don't want to eliminate them at all.

I don't even know exactly when the whole thing started. In which moment my feelings for you grew, when I felt more than just fascination and admiration for you and your artwork. Six months ago, a small studio had opened in my district, your own studio. On the day of the opening I simply went to it of pure curiosity, I had always had such a weakness for art and photography.

I can still remember exactly how I stood in front of one of your works and was literally speechless and overwhelmed by this picture and all his small details. This painting represents a classic image of the countryside, which was often to be found everywhere. But this work was different. So full of small details and ornaments. It was so much more... As a viewer you can see a beautiful clearing, which is surrounded by trees and protected from too many curious eyes. The ground of this clearing is overgrown with dense and lush green grass, which from the incoming sunlight almost invites you to let yourself fall into the grass. It reminds me instantly of my carefree childhood, when I rolled in it without overthinking my actions too much and those times when I playfully wrestled with my best friends around until our clothes had grass stains all everywhere. I could almost smell the scent of wild, untamed nature. The longer I look at the picture, the greater the longing became. Maybe I could visit this beautiful place one day, together with my partner, my significant other. Playing around with each other, chasing your beloved one until you fall into the grass breathless laughing and cuddling. Maybe we could have a picnic there and feed each other with homemade sweets?

I didn’t know that such a "simple" landscape painting could touch and awaken so much more in me, in my soul. Suddenly, such a wanderlust came over me that I gasped for air and a heavy lump formed in my throat. My whole body was tingling and my heart was literally screaming to get away from this dreadfully grey and monotonous daily routine of my boring single life, for at least some weeks. I want to go to this place, where I could draw the warm and fresh, natural air could deep into my lungs and pamper myself with homemade delicacies. Just to let the soul dangle and don’t stuck with my closely clocked work life. Maybe sleep until 10 o'clock in the morning and then maybe have a nice nap later. Enjoy the warm nights and hear the crickets chirping. This longing was... irrepressible. This particular wanderlust for nature, just to be out of the city, this longing for exactly this abandoned and untouched forest clearing literally overwhelmed me. What was it for an artist who could trigger such feelings and emotions in me?

I had been so absorbed in the artwork that I had not even noticed that a person step next to me. "Do you like the work?", asked a soft melodic voice, which spoke perfect Korean, but was pervaded by a light accent, which I could not quite assign. I flinched a little, but this bright, happy laugh gave me a tingling goosebumps all over my body. What a beautiful laugh... I turned to the person who was the owner of this beautiful voice. I was startled when I realized that the artist and owner of this studio was standing in front of me personally. I recognized her again, as I had seen a small photo of her in the newspaper article that drew my attention to this beautiful studio in the first place. Already in this picture she had radiated something so strong, colorful, cheerful and lively, which caused an excited flutter in my stomach.

I admit, I already laid an eye on her just by her appearance. Unfortunately I always had a hard time getting to know people ever since, let alone to talk to women. And now having you, Y/N, personally standing right in front of me, made me feel fluffy and excited in my stomach. Nothing is left of this otherwise so sassy and self-confident man that I used to be. Only a nervous and stodgy twenty-three-year-old idiot, who did not know what to say or wanted to say, now stands in front of this stunningly pretty and intelligent woman.

Her eyes sparkles like jewels, full of joy, struck me with interest and a playful smile lays on her lips. "Did you not understand my question?", she asked kindly, but nobly reserved. Immediately a rosy puff settled on my cheeks and I stuttered nervously: "Y-Yes, excuse me! I... I was just somewhere else with my thoughts and was completely surprised that they were addressing me personally.... Your works are truly unique! They still show such ‘usual’ motifs and yet they are so special because of these finely elaborated details and this passion with which this work of art was painted. They really are... Unique artworks that you do not forget so quickly. Even for untrained eyes as my owns, I can see that a talented artist has worked on it. I am very impressed by your work, especially this work here!" You could hear the honest admiration from my voice and my heart leapt as she reacted bashful to all of my compliments.

"Thank you, really, thank you so much! I really appreciate to hear such nice words like yours, even if it is rare. I am often criticized for my ‘lack of creativity’, caused by my chosen motives. I just love the rough, almost untouched landscapes of my hometown, I try to depict the ‘normal’ as something beautiful, unique. I would like to ‘really see’ what we already take for granted again. As a wonderful creation, a work of art. Nature is a wonderful example of this, or the architecture of buildings as well. Architects are also artists, although unfortunately they are not seen as such. I just want to offer the obvious things a more meaningful space again.... People like you have become rare. I have observed how you have recognized the true meaning, this beauty and aesthetics in such a ‘usual-looking’ motif. And this pleases me so much that you can read 'between the brushstrokes'. Oh... Excuse me, I always talk way too much when someone shows an interest in art or music, my personal passions. Besides that, I have not introduced myself to you yet, I am Y/N! I was obviously so pleased to see your understanding, empathetic look at this work, if you understand what I mean... Anyway... I can guess that you knew my name already, don't you? What about you? May I know your name?", asked you, beautiful artist, with her really stunning smile.

I swallowed nervously, never before had a young lady mixed my emotions so much in me. Even the picture of her in the newspaper article, which I had read out of boredom in one of my lectures, got me so emotionallyconfused. I didn't want to say it in front of my teasing friends, but I had been really excited when I set off this Friday night. And now the creator of these works of art stood before me and seemed to want to have a longer conversation with me. My heart beats to my throat and I got sweaty hands from this nervousness in my poor body. Honestly, as soon as I wasn't surrounded by my clique of friends, I automatically turned into a nervous, slightly abashed blushing and stuttering guy who behave like an inexperienced teenager.

In private life, without my best mates by the side, I am not so confident and daredevil. After all, I always had someone who could cover my back when things get tough, while I am on my own without anyone I know. You could usually only believe and trust, not control. That's probably why I struggled with interpersonal relationships. I always overthink too much and have some struggles with my self-confidence.

And now this attractive young woman looked at me with such interest and joy, just me. I was actually the reason for her interest. A joyful and blissful tingling seized every pore, every fiber of my body. Yes, in fact it was just me! Not my best buddy Seokjin, whom I have known since childhood and always sought the attention of everyone. It was no exaggeration to say that he was perhaps a little narcissistic, but only to cover up his own insecurities. Never would I have thought that someone would manage to get this personification of self-love under control. I admired his wife for standing up to Seokjin and keeping him and his dad Jokes at bay. Believe it or not, she of all people had the pants on in the house and knew how to deal with my best friend.

My gaze glided over the figure of the person in front of me and once again I took a sharp breath. I was so nervous to face her personally, a person I already deeply admired and had quite a respect for. I simply did not want to do anything wrong, even if this charm of hers was almost tangible and paralyzed my entire brain with its function. I can already picture how my mind waved wildly goodbye to myself and went to the summer holiday in the Caribbean.

This carefree smile and these beautiful eyes harmonized wonderfully with your complexion. Your features were awake and alive, seemingly always a slight smile surrounded the corners of your mouth, which provoked almost paradoxical reactions in my body. Your smile awake countless butterflies to flutter around in my stomach, which made me quite nervous and at the same time you radiated such a sense of security and calm, as if there was no reason not to get a word out of shyness. My gaze, which I hope examined you unobtrusively enough, wandered to your hands. You had long fingers, I could really imagine how they elegantly held the handle of the paint brushes and worked on these small details extensively in such a calm behavior. Which satisfied and concentrated calmness you possibly radiated while doing that...

A small, noble clearing of your throat again tore me out of my fantasies and speculations. God, what was I today but inattentive! How rude I must have seemed to you...

"Oh, sorry... I... I have not been able to keep my thoughts together all day..." I lied to seem at least a little more credible. Nervously, I pulled on the knot of my tie to loosen it up a little before I have a circulatory collapse. Before I went here, I thought for a long time about what I should wear for this occasion. Jeans and T-shirt were out of the question, too casual and almost an insult for your atelier. A complete suit, however, seemed too overdressed to me and so I decided for a black dress pants and a dark blue dress shirt.Understanding, Y/N nodded and gave me a cheering smile, which made my body tingle again. This woman drove me half crazy alone with his friendly gestures. How could it be that this polite lady got me confused right away?!

And somehow, it gave me a frenzy to leave my secure, anonymous side as a visitor to her exhibition and irrevocably reveal my true identity to you.

"My name is Jeon Jungkook."I answered in a slightly trembling voice, hardly daring to look into her eyes and rubbing my neck unobtrusively.

* Jungkook’s POV *

If only I had guessed what would change in me, how you changed me. That so much more would develop from a pure interest and a simple formal business contact... that you want to make me one of your artworks.

I take another deep breath before I dare to step out from behind the dark red paravent. It is pleasantly warm in this room, I should not freeze, if I am already so freely clothed. My gaze wanders through the small room with the huge, floor-to-ceiling window, which floods the entire room with light. The walls of the room have been painted in a dark orange and red colors and dark wooden planks lay out on the floor. It looks so comfortable due to the warm, dark tones. The orange-yellow evening sun dipped everything into something so cozy... sensual. Somehow into even a little erotic?

Y/N wants to work a lot with the light of the evening sun in this painting, which could be a little complicated if it is not suitable or if it is cloud-covered. But if you have put something into your head, especially in relation to your art, then you do everything you can do to go through it! Also the changing forces of nature cannot stop you from trying to realize your idea. Sometimes, you’re someone who is quickly frustrated and dissatisfied with yourself as well, especially when something doesn't work as you wants it to. Nevertheless when it comes to your passion, drawing and painting, you don’t let your idea go away, if you want something, you’ll find a way to make it happen. These are qualities that I know all too well of myself and thus my fascination about you only grows even more. The more time we spent together and I get to know more and more sides of you, the more attracted I became to you.

Your art means a lot to you and you’re quite tough in this respect, can not be overcome by the reproaches and the crushing criticism. That’s exactly what I admire so much about you, having the courage to stand up for personal passion. When I get criticized, all too often I think about really giving up on it, so that I don't have to endure all this criticism anymore. And then I look at you. How focused you are in this moment and carefully prepare for your next project. How you adjusts you easel to the right height, let your self-stretched canvas snap into place, spreads brushes of all sizes and shapes on the small side table next to you and prepares youracrylic colours. I swallow again, as I watched this happen. I am about to become one of your next artworks.

A little uncertainly I walk towards Y/N, the thin dressing gown tightly drawn around my body... never before have I felt so naked and vulnerable. This here is something else. I feel something about it... I feel something for you. For this pretty lady, who sprays her cheerfulness around her and could conjure a smile on the lips of even the most grumpy person. This joy almost kills you, completely engrossed this person and gives you the feeling of floating. You will get the feeling of being welcome at Y/N. To be accepted, with all the flaws and weaknesses that one has. She just smiles at you so gently and lovingly and just says, it's okay. It's okay to be the way you are. Imperfect.

"It is precisely this imperfect, this contradictory and also unpredictable thing that makes us human. That makes us an individual and also interesting. If we were really all as we are expected to be, it would be boring and monotonous. The surprise is only a real gift. Each of us is a very individual gift to a very specific addressee, who is the only one who can truly appreciate this gift. Only then did the recipient find the right person as his gift... Well, if the recipient knows about his gift...", Y/N once said with such a certain look at me, when we went out to dinner together in a restaurant in the evening to clarify some details. I wanted to help her find good contacts in Seoul and help her sell her works.

I can still remember it exactly... it was a quite... extraordinary evening. I was of course once again incredibly nervous and excited. At that time, I did not want to fully realize how much I already like you. Secretly, I had observed my opposite. Your positive and friendly disposition had turned my head all around... and in addition, this beautiful body and her elegant fingers, which already haunt me in the most erotic way unintentionally in my dreams.

I could not prevent my dream pictures from shooting through my head, which is why my cheeks turned dark red in embarrassment. These fucking fantasies in my head! My eyes stare at the cutlery as if it were incredibly interesting because I didn't dare look up. There were scenes in my mind that made my ears turn red and I would’ve loved to hide behind the menu card. Your body, which made her look like a Greek goddess.

Naked, body covered in sweat, your body shook in lust, you sit up with a wonderful moan... You are on top of me, I could admire your beautiful, almost divine body as you sat on top of me... and rode me. This breathtakingly beautiful distorted face of yours, as if all this pleasure you feel is carved in marble... lids closed, your lips, swollen from all the kissing, are slightly opened which let your lustful whimpering escape. This grace and elegance, as you rose from me and then lowered yourself again... as your hands glide erratically over my stomach, searching for support... you suddenly threw your head back and clenched even more tightly around my length. The addicting sounds you’ve made... it’s like the most beautiful melody in my ears... squelching noises and even more of yourjuices gushing out of your sweet, so sweet pussy when you came...

An all-too-familiar laugh tore me out of my extremely indecent thoughts, which quite relieved me at first. Until I raised my head and not too far away I recognized no one but my best friend Kim Seokjin, who made very questionable hand signals in my direction. Oh my God, no! I knew that he had recently changed his job and got accepted for a position as a chef in a new restaurant... but not in this Restaurant! He will never let me life after he found out I was on a “Date” with a woman...

Even though Seokjin was on the other side of the restaurant, I could almost feel his smirk on my own skin. Fuck it, just pretend as if you do not know each other and hit him really hard tomorrow morning in the gym where we meet up for our work out. I quickly turned all my attention back to the person sitting opposite me and tried to ignore Seokjin as best I could.

It was only at the end of the evening, when I had said goodbye to Y/N, that I realized that this meeting had much more of a date than a "business dinner". How familiar we had talked with each other... how much I had thought about licking Y/N the drop from the chocolate sauce of her lava cake from her lips... how it would be... to kiss and touch you...

A noticeable blush has settled on my cheeks as I attended our first meeting together... or even Date in this Restaurant thought back. Four months had passed since then and I suffered from longing for you. You would never see me like I saw you. The reason you wanted to draw me was simply that she needed someone as a model. In addition to landscapes and cities, you want to devote herself gradually to more other motifs. And since I have been the first inquired. Your pleading eyes made me say yes. But I know that for me you have no more than the feelings for a casual friendship. It hurts to see how you flirt around so casually with all those other people. I would never be the gift for you as you are for me. If only the recipient would notice that there is a given heart laying in your hands...

"Ah, Jungkook! I’m glad that you're ready!", your cheerful and melodic voice cuts through the silence of the room and you’re walking towards me with excited shining eyes. "Come~," you say and lead me to the chaiselongue, which is placed in front of the large window. The soft, orange light of the evening sun falls on the wine-red fabric of the restored chaiselounge in baroque style. The upholstery has frames covered in gold and also the lion feet on which this historic furniture stands are gilded. Everything was decorated with so many Details, it looks so incredibly elegant and luxurious. On the left side there are some cushions in the same color and an elegant design is carved on the backrest, literally inviting to get used.

"Surely you know the movie 'Titanic', right? Do you remember the scene where Jack used charcoal pencils to draw an nude coal picture of Rose as she laid on the sofa? I would like to draw you in a similar position. I hope it's okay for you if I look at you more closely without a dressing gown... i want to get an overview of your body proportions.", you say, looking me straight in the eye. I notice that you’re very concerned about my privacy and does not want to overstep any of my personal boundaries without my consent. I nod slightly at first until I get a clear yes over my lips. She looks at me silently for a few seconds before reassuring me once again that we can always stop at any time if I feel uncomfortable. Especially your patience and mindfulness of my boundaries shows me how important it is for you as well and how I actually relax noticeably. Y/N smiles cheerfully at me and I slowly loosen the belt of the dressing gown and let the last garment slide to the ground. I feel her in-depth look at me... he is not uncomfortable... only... exciting... in a few different ways.

I swallow again and lie down on the chaiselongue as instructed. You correct my arm and leg position, also rearrange all of the cushions correctly. To my own relief, you put a red cloth over my crotch area. Not that I am ashamed of anything, I am more than comfortable with you already... I just have some worries that I will get a visible problem if I constantly feel your look on my bare skin.

"It should be able to guess something, but not be allowed to see everything right away...", she whispered with a smile, before her fingertips unintentionally glide tenderly through my happy trail. One of your last smiles are... not really to interpret. Then you return to your easel.

* The Reader’s POV *

Carefully you sit down on your old painting stool, already quite worn out on the edges and stained with the most different types and tones of colors. It had originally been dark brown. You smile dreamily when you think back that you’re used to dangle your legs around when you were a little kid because it was way too big for you back then. For eighteen years now you have exactly this stool and this easel. They had been a gift from your grandfather for your fifth birthday. He had awakened the passion of painting and drawing in you and passed his talent on to you. A certain melancholy seized you when I thought back to how you used to paint your first real picture on canvas with your new easel in the old music room in your grandfather's country house.

It had been the old, dusty grand piano, which must have been more than a hundred years old at that time. How the country house survived all these wars unscathed, you ask yourself to this day. Perhaps there had already been something magical about it at that time, which should remain untouched. Perhaps the small estate should remain an inconspicuous symbol of hope, the hope that at some point the sun and peace will return when the unbearable suffering and sorrow of this cruel time is over. When the wars were over and all those seeking protection who had fled to this country house were able to return to their own homes again. This house, this estate you can explain your childhood with a single word. Home.

You lift your thought-lost look from your empty, folded hands and look to Jungkook. He takes your breath away every time you see him. He is so special, such a wonderful and yet you firmly believe that he has not been chosen for you, such an ordinary woman as you are. He would belong to someone else with whom he would be happy, although he is the only one who was able to understand and read your works, the language in them. It... it had been such a beautiful moment when, six months ago, he stood in your newly opened studio, so absorbed by the painting of the forest of your childhood. All the other visitors had only looked at it briefly and smiled wearily at the fact that it was again only a landscape painting, but did not grasp what the story behind this work was. Why the artist chosed this very motif, to see, to feel what the creator wanted to communicate through the work.

But Jungkook had been different. He had given the work, your personal heart, a chance to unravel the true meaning behind it. He did it slowly, bit by bit with his eyes... grasped with his whole mind and heart and finally let himself be influenced as a whole. You could tell from his body reactions that he felt exactly what you had felt when you painted it last summer. Longing. Infinite Longing. Mixed together with melancholy, a little homesickness and sorrow to a unique emotional color. The day you painted it was the last time you saw the house in your official possession. Your grandfather had left it to you. But unfortunately you lacked money, you had to pay some debts and with the best will you could not earn the money in other ways. So you had to sell it with a heavy heart. Your beloved birth and childhood home and the associated lands, you had to sell your true home away. The picture is the only thing left of it. And Jungkook was the only person who understood what you wanted to express with the painting. Longing. My Homesickness.

When all these sensations came upon him, he involuntarily clenched his hands tightly, his chest lifted and lowered quickly, his Adam's apple hopped repeatedly. His eyes were glassy. He experienced your longing as directly as you did. He... is so special. So infinitely amiable. He... he is the only person who’s able to read your true feelings in your works. He is able to read between your brush strokes.

So today you will try him... to paint a confession of love with this act. Maybe he could read... what you feel for him. Even if you know that you will probably never see him again. Because you would not be the recipient of his love and affection. He's just too... too... gifted for a simple artist like you. He would never be your gifted person.

Your gaze glides tenderly and caressingly over his body. Trying to absorb every little detail of his body, his charisma and his character into you and let it flow into the painting. Every birthmark you want to put on the canvas and hold on. You want to show Jungkook how beautiful he is. How godlike he lies before you on this majestic chaiselongue, how masculine and muscular he is, as if he wanted to embody an Adonis. You want to paint every muscle, even the smallest visible muscle, on the canvas in a realistic manner, you want to capture the strength and security that he conveys to you over and over again and make it visible to him. And yet... his gaze often corresponds to that of an intimidated, insecure fawn, which does not dare to want to get up on his legs on his own. The fear of falling again is too big. Through this painting you want to show Jungkook what he really is, what he represents for you and what you feel for him. He is... so contradictory. He is strong, godlike, powerful... and at the same time, so infinitely uncertain, vulnerable... almost pure.

Silence enters your little studio, only the regular breathing of the other and the muffled noise of the busy world outside the door could be heard. Here... here, it feels like time is standing still for a moment for the two of you. Your shared eternity had begun.

To your happiness that it is summer right now and it stays bright for a long time. Today you take more time than usual to mix colors. You want to mix a shade that perfectly matches his skin tone. You want to get the exact color of his black hair down onto the canvas, and the perfect brown for his beautiful eyes. The evening sun and the leaves of the huge treetops in front of the large window conjure up the most beautiful patterns on his immaculate body. A game of light and shadow. It seems to you that Jungkook's body, every single pore of his body has a tiny diamond, so that he begins to sparkle in the sunlight like an infinitely precious jewel. The evening sun warms him, lays a thin layer of sweat over his body. Every detail you try to bring to the canvas, every feeling, every movement of my heart, everything you feel for him, you want to bring to this canvas. You want to make him a masterpiece. Because for you, he is the most beautiful specimen, the only true crown of the human creation.

Some black strands have come loose from his manbun and have fallen on his forehead. It looks stunning, to see him like that. I had never seen him with a messy or even completely open hair... but even now these strands loosened from the braid make his facial features look so much softer and more relaxed. In it, the adult and strong man united with a young, vulnerable, shy boy. The result is... infinitely beautiful. He possesses both sides, so he makes the seemingly inexhaustible divine human being.

His eyes, drawing his eyes with that expression in them, cost you a lot of nerves. Too often you misunderstood this infinite longing that you find in his dark, brown eyes. Again and again you have to restrain yourself, not just to get up, to go over to him... and to kiss him.

This longing look you misinterpret is as longing as you own... according to your closeness, your touch, your affection... according to your love. Because you love him. You love everything about him, his sheepish laugh, the way of rubbing his neck shyly, the way he speaks and explains his point of views about things, how he smells... just everything... every blemish he blames on himself, you think it’s like an artwork on him. He is so perfectly imperfect that you just fell in love with him.

The sun has already set and only the last pink and purple streaks could be seen in the sky, with which the past day says goodbye to the world. One last time you can hear the velvety stroke of the brush over the canvas before you finally put the brush aside. It is finished. You have given everything that is in your power, used all of your artistic abilities and knowledge to the utmost and you have incorporated everything that you feel and think about into this artwork. And what you see put a smile on your lips, but also makes your pulse rise. What will Jungkook say when he looks at it? He will see it... can he read what you feel for him in it?

With a trembling voice, you call Jungkook and look at him one last time. The last time the sight of this male beauty was granted to you. One last time.

After Jungkook has wrapped himself in the dressing gown again, he slowly comes towards you and your easel. Your heart is throbbing as if it really wants to fearfully flight and jump out of your chest. Your body gets hot and cold at the same time and suddenly your hands get sweaty, the dried color on your skin mixes with the sweat to a uncomfortable mess in your palms, which somehow makes you even more nervous. Then he stands next to you. Looking at the canvas for the first time himself. The last brushstroke is still drying.

Once again there is silence, which makes you incredibly nervous and with every second that passes, you want to follow your instinct to escape. Jungkook's pupils are dilated and blown out, whether with bewilderment or horror, you can not recognize. One of his hands shoots up his mouth, he trembles all over his body. Suddenly you hear a suppressed, throaty sobbing. Surprised and a little appalled, you look at Jungkook, who has shut his eyes tightly and presses the palm of his hand even harder on his mouth, as if he wants to muffle every sound. Tears escape the corners of his eyes. This is a reaction... which you would not have expected...

Gently, mindful of any kind of resistance, you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him. He doesn't say anything, he doesn't sob, he doesn't whimper. He just cries. Tenderly, consolingly you hold him, without wanting to distress him. He literally presses his face into the crook of your neck. Salty tears drench your blouse, but it doesn't bother you. The reason why he had such an emotional outburst, you just don't understand. But still... it's okay. It is valid.

As he slowly calms down and his breathes becomes regularly again, he carefully lifts his head out of the crook of your neck and wipes the last tears out of his eyes dry in slight embarrassment. He slowly releases himself from your embrace until you finally stand silently in front of each other.

"What title you’ll give this artwork?", he asks softly, in a rough, throaty voice. You swallow . "It shall be called 'Der Geliebte'. ...it is german and translated it means... ‘The beloved’ ", you say barely audibly and lower your head. After this confession, you can no longer look him in the eyes.

Jungkook takes a sharp breath in and you're actually just waiting for a devastating response from him that would be like a death threat. But nothing of this happened. Instead, your chin is suddenly raised by his fingertips and you look into Jungkook's beautiful eyes. He bites his lower lip a little uncertainly,his own gaze falls on your pretty shaped lips.

"Do you... do you allow me to kiss you?", he asks quietly... barely audible for you even though you’re standing so close to each other. He doesn't dare to look you into the eyes after such a question, he is too afraid that you deny his request. But you can hardly believe your luck, a high pitched ‘yes!’ flew over your lips and before you can control yourself, you press your own lips right onto his. They are incredibly soft and kiss you back in such a delightfully and endearing insecure and shy manner as no other could ever have done it.

Your heart beats full of joy and bliss and in your belly, the butterflies fly somersaults of all different kinds that your whole body began to tingle. Your mind cannot get a grasp of all this yet, but this... you don't need any more of it at this moment anyway.

The kiss is tender, shy and somewhat uncertain from both sides. Jungkook is very insecure and shy, but before he can escape like a frightened deer again, you put your arms around his neck and let your hands rest in the nape of his scalp. Again and again you detach yourselves from each other only for the fraction of a second to get a breath of air into your lungs in order to find each other lips again... until you stopped for a few seconds.

"I like you... I like you really, really much, Jungkook... I even dare to say that I fell on love with you.", you mutter softly against his lips. His shy, happy smile was too much for you, so you immediately kiss him again. Perhaps because of the sheer joy and maybe of the certainty that he feels the same for you, the next kiss turns into something more passionate than before...

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whump-me-all-night-long · 3 years

Text

The Jewelry Box: Emerald's Acquaintance

Basically just 1000 words of pure fluff, I have no regrets

Taglist: @newbornwhumperfly @unicornscotty @itsleighlove @whump-scribbles @getyourwhumphere @skunkandgrenade @penny-for-your-whump @lektric-whump @just-a-whump-lover @thelazywitchphotographer @restrainthenmaime @angstyachesplus @lilbitwhumpy @leaderofthebeanarmy @aquard-skaii @whumprincess @thatgaysnail @finaldreams1106 @reveriedeludesme @kemonoinuzuka @circlingravens @whumpasaurus101 @spicy-wendigo @femmewithadhd @wafflestakethecake @lonesome--hunter @as-a-matter-of-whump @broadwaybabe18 @whumpinggoodtime @temporary-whump-sideblog @dumb-and-lesbian let me know if you want to be added/removed!

CW: for literally nothing, this is fluff and only fluff

Masterlist

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“I, um, it’s not much,” Asa said, shyly smiling at Emerson as he struggled to fit his key into the door of his apartment. His hands were shaking so badly he had to put his back to Em and take several deep breaths to fit the key in.

Opening the door after several long seconds that seemed to span on forever, the college junior stepped inside, already biting his lip as he glanced around at the state of his apartment.

The one bedroom place had been cheap, close to the college Asa went to, and had a great view. Along one wall, a large window ran almost completely floor to ceiling, showing the landscape of skyscrapers and bustling traffic below. He was able to just sit and look out that window for hours at a time. Hanging from the ceiling, jutting out from shelves, and sitting on the floor near that window were dozens of small potted plants, each one with a little homemade placard sticking out of them.

There was a decent sized kitchen along the wall the door was on, with a bar-style island with a few stools next to it. Then there was Asa’s desk, pressed into the corner along the far wall, near where his living room area was, with its TV, used couch, and favorite armchair.

Nearly every surface was covered in books, notebooks, and stray papers with Asa’s cramped, neat handwriting all over them. Through the slightly cracked open door of his bedroom, he could see more piles of books next to an unmade bed.

Hurriedly crossing the few steps it took to close the door with a click, he turned back to Emerson, biting his lip. “I told you, it’s not really anything special-” he started before Em cut him off.

“Are you kidding?” he said, stepping further in and spinning around slowly, taking in the whole place. “This place fucking rocks. It’s very..” he glanced over at him- “Asa, it’s very Asa.”

Not quite sure how to respond, Asa just smiled and strided over to the kitchen, opening one of the cabinets to reveal a wide array of coffees and teas. Really, he was just trying hard not to freak out over the fact that Emerson Bell, the Emerson Bell, foreign exchange student from Britain, already an award winning painter, photographer, sculptor, and who knew what else, cool and scary all at once, one of the most sought after guys in their department, was in his apartment.

“I, um, have some tea and coffee, if you want to drink something.” The words sounded lame, even to him.

But Emerson, who had insisted ‘Please, just call me Em,’ with a smile that had set Asa’s heart racing, just leaned over the bar counter, forearms resting on the cool marble, glancing into the cabinet. “Sure, he said, smiling. “Coffee would be great. Do you have any cream?”

Mouth suddenly dry, Asa just nodded, silently pulling out what he needed, setting his coffee machine up. The seconds ticked by as the coffee brewed and then as Asa carefully poured it into one of his favorite mugs: light green with a flower garden painted around the bottom. Then he passed Em his selection of creams wordlessly.

Em smiled, taking them and studying them thoroughly. “You really like your coffees, huh?” he said with a grin, glancing up.

Feeling his face heat up, Ass just ducked his head with a smile. Clearing his throat, he grabbed a paper out of his bag where he'd dropped it next to him. “So, um,” he started, scanning the page. “Maybe we should talk about this assignment. It's a multimedia project, with at least three different types of media, one of which has to be written. There's also a presentation. It can be over any of the books that we've discussed so far this, um, this semester..”

He trailed off as Em’s long, slim fingers snaked across the counter - which had never felt like such a long and short distance at the same time before - to hook around his wrist, causing his gaze to jerk up.

Em smiled, warm eyes crinkling at the corners. “Hey,” he said softly. “This seems like it'll be a long assignment. Plus it's worth like, what, twenty, twenty five percent of our final grade? Maybe we should meet up a couple more times?”

Asa blinked several times, watching as if disconnected from his body as Em took a slow drink of the coffee, his eyes fluttering closed for a millisecond as he savored the rich flavor. Then he drew in a deep breath as he realized he hadn't been breathing.

“Yeah,” he said in a strangled voice. “That sounds like it'll be smart.” He wondered, vaguely, why in the world he had agreed to do this project with Em.

He must've still been in shock, twirling his pen and staring at the professor’s board when he'd felt a quick tap on his shoulder. Turning around, he'd met eyes with the Emerson Bell, who had then asked his if he wanted to partner up with him on the project the professor had just introduced. Asa had silently nodded, eyes wide, still too shocked to think of responding any other way.

Em smiled, pushing off the counter and cradling the mug. “Perfect,” he said, and Asa couldn't get his eyes off his straight, white teeth. “And maybe we could also go grab some coffee, another time, and I could ask you your tastes on coffee? I'd love to learn more.”

“Sure,” Asa tried to say, but his voice cracked and he quickly cleared his throat. “Sure,” he said, voice stronger.

Em was now talking about the project, but all Asa could hear was his own heart pounding in his ears.

Did he just get out? And say yes?

Was he going on a date with Emerson Bell?

#the jewelry box #emerald love #emerson the ex #fluff i can write fluff #i've had this piece half written forever #and then i was just like why not let's post it today

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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wow okay i am skipping the lingerie party lol and am instead going to just briefly jot down some thoughts before i go to sleep and wake up at 5 for my flight tomorrow morning. jesus christ i have ONE MILLION thoughts and feelings about this weekend. i want to preface this by saying that on the whole, it was a fine social experience! it was nowhere near as awkward or painful as i was expecting. or like, parts of it were painful, but it was 100% to do with my own complicated feelings about literally every part of this tradition and the wedding industry in general lol, and not anything to do with the people themselves. the other women were friendly and very welcoming, i made an event best friend who was wonderful company, and it was really fun to get to spend time with both my sister-in-law and her older sister, who was so charming and wonderful. i’m glad i came even though thinking about the $$ i spent on this trip makes me physically gag.

but okay i want to just record some THOUGHTS that maybe i will continue unpacking with some distance. i feel likeeeee okay here are my thoughts.

the social norms around femininity are just a fucking minefield and i feel like i really just gotta keep walking back the impulse to judge other women for the choices they make as they navigate around the manifold traps and snares and half-buried landmines that constitute the landscape of being a woman. like jesus christ. it’s so fucked up, it’s so fucked up, the received and socially enforced norms of femininity are just so fucked up. I think ALL THE FUCKING TIME of this margaret atwood poem i love so much, which was REALLY on my mind this weekend:

How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her?

I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin.

I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.

I feel like the first bit was very much on my mind throughout the weekend, but those last three lines have come to the forefront over the course of this last day, as i have tried to do some Thinking about what i observed/experienced/felt this weekend. whether or not this is what it means in the context of the poem, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it, expresses something of my complex feelings: I don’t know that I can tell the truth about femininity because I don’t know that I can see it. i am both too close to it/still emotionally entangled in it and too far from it to know which parts of it are ‘real’ and which parts are just performance.

i feel like one thing that struck me this weekend, in ways that i don’t know if i’ve noticed as much before, was that so much of the things women say to each other or do in these social contexts is performative, and they know on some level it’s a performance, but we are all going through the motions of doing and saying the expected things anyway. that has not always been clear to me. i have spent so much of my own life as a woman thinking that other women perfectly, seamlessly, naturally embodied the norms of femininity, and i was the only one (or part of a group of only ones) who couldn’t remember my lines, or kept fumbling my cues, or felt so painfully, self-consciously aware that i was playing a role that i could never deliver a convincing performance. but this weekend, after the initial social panic had passed, i started trying to get out of my own head a little bit and look for things that disproved the very strong theory i had brought into the weekend. and of course then i started seeing more and more of the little moments where women say one thing and do another, or profess one belief/conviction but then the whole corpus of their lived experiences and choices contradicts that stated belief, or whatever. and also just like, moments of pathos, where someone i had judged harshly at the beginning of the weekend offhandedly revealed something about her past that really changed my perception of her, or at least made me think like, ah god, i have to have empathy for and with this person, because i think she might be a complex person just like me, with an intricate inner life that her performance partially reveals and partially occludes from view, and agh, it sucks to have to think of people as complicated instead of as safely two-dimensional & easy to dismiss, and the reason it sucks is because then it forces you to realize that you share more with this person than you’d like to admit, and that some of your wounds are the same, even if you dealt with those wounds (the wounds of girlhood, or rather the emotional wounds that our culture inflicts upon girls, which then become tangled up in complex and painful ways with the lived experience of girlhood itself) in really different ways.

but also ugh. we are all performing gender norms but there is just something that does not feel playful at all about embodying conventional femininity. i can’t think of a better way to phrase that right now but it’s like.. the performance isn’t fun. it doesn’t seem to be fun. i don’t know that anyone here was having fun doing it, even if they were having fun being with each other. but it was like doing the intensely gendered social rituals was like, the price of admission? like it was the toll we had to pay to be together spending time in the company of other women? i don’t know man but it fucking exhausts me. like i can push myself to stretch my genuine empathy and sense of solidarity with other women much further than my knee-jerk judgmental reaction, but i can’t ever get to a place where i find any of those social rituals anything other than fucking exhausting. they feel so fucking joyless. they feel like things that many women have internalized as ‘things we must do in order to have relationships with other women.’ (please do not even get me started on how exhausting heteronormativity is i think i could write an entire other essay on how women use these bachelorette party-type rituals to spend time with their closest female friends, but the whole event is still implicitly organized around men, and these women’s male partners are still positioned as the priority in their lives, and the whole event is framed as like, a last burst of intense closeness between women before the bride is delivered over to her husband. like i KNOW that this is not how women think of it but all the RHETORIC of the bachelorette party, the little events and rituals and games, the little comments everyone makes all fucking weekend, good fucking lord, my jaw is so TENSE.)

anyway god i just AGHHHH. idk sorry this is definitely not coherent at ALL because i’m tired and still need a bit more distance/time to process some of this. i guess here is one last thing i want to register before i sleep. i am in my 30s now and i am living a life that is so, so far removed from the social world i grew up in. marriage is not a norm among my friend group, almost all of my female friends are queer women, many women i know are not partnered and have no interest in being partnered, and the friends who are in heterosexual relationships tend to be in very gender-balanced relationships or slightly nontraditional relationships where it feels like both partners have engaged in conscious reflection about what they want their relationship to look/feel like. also i now date women, am out as a lesbian, and spend most of my time teaching/working with queer- and trans/nonbinary-identified kids.

so like, the world i live in now is just so different from the world i grew up in. and sometimes it is easy for me to kind of downplay the intensity of my own gender distress as a teen and young adult, or to sort of - act like it was a phase in my life that had much more to do with me than with the social environment i lived in. i don’t mean ‘phase’ in a dismissive ‘those feelings weren’t real’ kind way, but more like, ‘oh that was just part of the normal growing pains of figuring out who you are and what kind of person you want to be as an adult - everybody pretty much goes through some version of that.’ it’s true that everyone DOES go through some version of that, as just like, part of the process of individuation in that age range. but also like. idk man. being back in this environment - straight white women from the midwest and south, all engaging in the rituals of heterosexual white femininity - was just so intense and so MUCH, and it brought back a flood of feelings and visceral memories that i feel like i will need to spend some time sorting through over the next few weeks. like, what i experienced back then really WAS gender distress, and it was so, so distressing. i spent the years from age 11ish to 24ish existing with this constant lowgrade baseline feeling of wanting to claw my own fucking skin off because my own gendered body felt like such a prison, and i sometimes felt like i literally wanted to destroy my own body because i could not yet conceive of an alternative to inhabiting that body or playing the role that had been handed down to me. until i started reading queer memoirs and inhaling lesbian media and (especially) reading about queer femme identities, i literally did not have an image or any kind of felt sense of what another way of inhabiting my own body might look/feel like. i literally could not imagine it!!!

and that is why the distress feels so distressing, and becomes internalized in such violent ways, i think. because it’s the blind, mindless panic of a trapped and wounded animal. except that you lack any real understanding of the larger social forces at work, or any language with which to describe or conceptualize what social norms are or how they’re enforced. so in your mind, the only thing you can see wounding you is your own gendered body, or the way that gendered body is socially 'read’ by others. and that is why you want to claw your own fucking skin off, just literally dig your nails into your own flesh and claw it the fuck off. because you can’t see a norm, but you can see your gendered body, and you can see the ways that it causes other people to react to you, or treat you, or hold you to a certain set of expectations, and so in your mind you are like: this must be destroyed. in your mind you are like, the only way out is to get out of this fucking body, but that’s impossible, surely, you can’t get out of your own body, so you have to settle for starving it and self-harming it and ruthlessly punishing it in a thousand terrible ways, because you might not be able to leave your girl’s body behind, but you can make it suffer and pay for what it’s done to you.

i am old enough now, and have spent enough time thinking and writing about those feelings, to identify them when they arise again, and to get the necessary distance from them so that i can say, what i want to destroy are the norms themselves, and the distress they cause, and not the body that has done nothing to me but be me. so i am not quite as sucked under as i used to be. but i think that there is something about the violence and intensity of those feelings that i forget sometimes, or misremember with age and distance. it’s easy to be a little bit patronizing to my younger self (or by extension to my younger students sometimes), because i now live in a social world that is largely arranged in ways that minimize rather than intensify or amplify gender distress. but when you have no choice in how to arrange your life, and no language with which to understand what is happening to you or what you are experiencing, and no frame of reference to help you understand that this is a period in your life and not forever, and no models you can look to in order to discover alternative ways of inhabiting your body or arranging your life... my god, that’s quite different from being an adult with a wide range of experiences and with much greater autonomy over your own body and life. anyway idk i need to keep thinking but now i must go to bed and try to sleep five hours before the plane.

#how can i teach her some way of being human #that won't destroy her!!!#gender #mw #to think further #girls I have been

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tundrainafrica · 3 years

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hi! i just wanted ask how can you not be so pressured to change hange’s gender to your fics (she to they/them) despite that many twitter users are saying that “au authors must use they/them to hange because they are canonically NB” . because to be honest, as an aspiring writer who is working on her first levihan fic, i feel so pressure or maybe obligied to use they/them pronouns for hange.

Hello Anon,

Thanks for the ask!

To be honest, I actually was pressured to use ‘they’ tbh. In fact, I was so pressured I actually did a lot of research on this and put a lot of thought into my decision to use ‘she’ as my chosen pronoun for Hange.

But tbh, I think I am pretty confident with the amount of research and the amount of thought I put into it that I don’t think I will be using ‘they’ in my fics anytime soon.

Disclaimer: This doesn’t mean at all that I don’t like reading ‘they’ fics nor that I don’t like seeing people use ‘they.’ Tbh I don’t really mind whatever people use? I can enjoy a fic with either pronoun, I can enjoy a good meta with either pronoun. I have my own personal reasons for using they.

Some of the reasons why:

Personal HC

Personal HC but I’m still gonna drop this here.

To make things clear, I headcanon Hange as gender fluid. I headcanon her as sexuality fluid that personally, I’m not too much a fan either of fics that portray Hange as overly feminine either. So I have seen people who request that we do not use overly female or feminine words with Hange. Which yes, I don’t do them. But was a peer pressured into not using them?

No, not really. I just personally think Levi would prefer the word partner if he was with Hange. I personally think that Hange would not have liked to fall into traditional female roles either.

At the same time, I thought about the concept of using ‘they’ as a pronoun with Hange then I couldn’t help but think, it just isn’t in my personal interpretation of Hange to correct people. Hange is too much of a free bird to actually care what people use. Hange would probably respond to he, she, they or whatever and she probably wouldn’t correct anyone calling her mr., mrs. etc.

And in the context of Filo soc med AUs, Hange would probably respond to ate, kuya. (And besides, what is the gender neutral form of ate or kuya??? Mamsir)

And generally the default for most people is to look at someone and think okay, she’s a girl, I think I’ll use ‘she’ first. Or okay, that’s a guy, I think I’ll use ‘he’ first and what usually happens is if anyone is particularly conscious about the pronoun used on them, they will correct the other person.

But there are people out there, who don’t care whether someone uses she, he, they, mr., mrs, ma’am, sir. For example, personally for me, I wouldn’t bother to correct anyone. And I headcanon that Levi and Hange wouldn’t have cared either.

I’m sure people who read my fics would notice, I do put a lot of research when I write because I like to make things as realistic and as in character as possible. So to get into the spirit of my fic and whatever setting I’m writing, I try to capture everything to a T and given the overall landscape and setting I’m writing about and given my own headcanons of Levi and Hange I decided on she.

Because in my headcanon, if someone were to ask Hange what pronoun she preferred? Hange probably would have said any.

Likewise, if anyone asked Hange what her gender was, Hange probably would have said ‘any’ also.

And the setting of the show is practically medieval and gender identity is a relatively new concept. I don’t think many people would have spent too much time pondering ideas like individualism and gender identity when they’re literally facing death everyday. Actually a lot of the great thinking happened after the war, and when there was actually food on the table. Because people weren’t actually hungry everyday anymore so they had time to think about more modern thoughts.

‘She’ is still an NB pronoun

I answered this in another ask already. But the point behind this, is although ‘they’ is the go to non binary pronoun, there are NB people who go by she too. And creating this idea that all gender fluid characters HAVE to go by ‘they’ is dangerous in itself because the reason we had gender discrimination in the first place is because we had these boxes to fit ourselves into. So if a NB person wants to go by ‘she’ or ‘he’ or ‘they’ who are we to stop them?

And I said it many times myself. We will never know which pronoun Hange would have preferred for herself.

I get confused.

This is a shallow reason but I’m gonna drop this here anyway. I get confused when I see ‘they.’ I read a lot of content which uses ‘they’ for Hange and I get confused a lot of the time that I have to read the sentences like three times because I end up thinking ‘Hange and who?’

I know I should have gotten used to it by now, but I still get confused because english is the only language I use on a regular basis that actually has such strict rules for how to navigate gendered pronouns.

I don’t wanna be peer pressured into doing shit just coz.

Tbh, for me, as long as I did my research, as long as I can argue both sides as to why and as long as I am confident in the fact that I have thought about this enough before deciding on this, I will not change it.

I am pretty convinced that a lot of people who actually go all the way as to attack someone on twitter and to cancel them (over a lot of topics tbh) haven’t done their due research.

Because most of the people I know who have done their due research wouldn’t be fighting (on Twitter OF ALL PLACES) in the first place.

Because doing actual research (which means reading articles which support both sides of the argument) will only make people realize that the world is too grey and too complex to ever make pushing their own agenda, ‘cancelling’ someone and calling them transphobic, homophobic, racist etc ect or as they like to call ‘educating’ someone the right thing to do. Believe me, if people genuinely wanted to educate someone, they would slide into their DMs and calmly tell them their own opinion, ask why the other person believes a certiain way and you know, be ready to learn something too because education is a two way street. And if the conversation isn’t going anywhere, I think any level headed person would probbaly just give up and do something more worth while with their time than cancel some stranger on social media.

Regardless though, I respect either decision and I recognize the fact that a lot of Hange stans are very much more comfortable with the pronoun ‘they’ My general practice when navigating this sensitive topic is to use ‘they’ for Hange when talking to someone who prefers ‘they’ because it’s a conversation and in conversation, the space becomes something shared between me and the other person so I would do my part to make it as comfortable for them as possible.

But here’s the thing, my fic is my space. It’s a house I built for myself and the readers are the visitors that come in and out as they please. No one is forced to read my fic and never have I and never will I tie someone down on a chair and not free them until they read my work.

It’s my fic. It’s my work and I can do whatever I want with it.

People tend to forget that in the end this is a fandom space and people should be free to headcanon things however they want. They should be free to explore whatever themes they want. And I like to do my part to promote this type of environment by sticking to a few iron clad rules.

I write what I want to write.

Don’t like, don’t read.

Content is free. There’s a back button and if you do not appreciate the themes someone is exploring or the headcanons someone is applying to their fic, you may click the back button and look for something that doesn’t offend you.

(I’m gonna end up digressing a bit here so feel free not to read the rant below)

There are an infinite number of headcanons and ideas which ideally should be able to exist. Yet because of this constant need to be politically correct and this constant fear that we might be offending someone and we might end up cancelled, a lot of people have been watching their own creative works more than necessary.

I actually fear that there are a lot of good ideas and there are a lot of themes that could have been explored but weren’t.

And this is why I love ao3 a lot. Ao3 is free from societal pressure, corporate synergy and I appreciate the fact that in that space, I’m free to explore whatever themes I want. I can read something pro-rape, I can read something anti-rape. I can read something pro abuse, I can read something anti-abuse etc etc.

I personally have very liberal views and obviously I am not for rape or abuse in ANY situation.

But I am also the type of person who will read things that celebrate a controversial topic and things that will attack that same topic because I just generally want a more nuanced opinion on a lot of things. Because when I have seen both sides of the spectrum, then it’s just easier for me to proudly say ‘Yes, I believe this’ or ‘No, I don’t believe that.’

And I think these pieces should be available for other people to explore so that they can for themselves form more nuanced opinions on whatever topics come their way and the more sides people are aware of that exist, the less likely we’re going to end up with groupthink or hivemind situations which have fucked people over countless times in history already.

Should questionable content be widely available? Personally no but I don’t think it should be completely unavailable.

Regardless these potentially offensive pieces should exist and I’m saying this for both controversial topics such as rape and abuse and something as relatively harmless as Hange being referred to as ‘she’ on a fic. All stories exploring every facet and every side regardless of how controversial should exist in this space because these promote discourse and they promote thinking. These pieces of work that explore taboo and offensive topics and the discourse these create only serve to make our opinions more nuanced so at least we aren’t blinded or we don’t have these half assed opinions only fueled by having read material created by people who are biased to one particular side. At least we have enough fuel for ourselves to say ‘Yes I have read this and now I can more proudly say I believe this more.’

Whatever opinions I have made for myself about social issues are only how they are because I listen to both sides of the argument. I like to play devil’s advocate. I like to listen to people even if I don’t agree with what they’re saying.

And I like finding compromises so that people can co-exist and I like tweaking my opinions everyday based on new information I learn.

And personally, there are so many views I hate and there are types of topics I personally would prefer not to explore but I still believe in the back of my mind they should exist. And if we do whitewash or try to force everyone to adjust their works to whatever side we deem is more ‘politically correct,’ then we will lose facets of the fandom that could have existed, that could have promoted a more colorful discourse and that could have sprouted new ideas and new ways of thinking which may be even more creative if people weren’t so scared to be cancelled or wrong.

It’s different in a conversation. I will adjust the way I speak, the way I navigate interactions with people in a shared space.

But no one is forced to read my works no one is forced to read fanfiction so cancelling someone over how they go about their creative works will always be worse in my book than someone who is exploring problematic themes. (As long as that person tags their trigger material properly and isn’t forcing anyone to read it or forcing their own personal beliefs on anyone or attacking them)

Anyway, sorry for the long ass rant again but I hope you get the courage to use whatever pronouns you want for Hange.

I hope this makes you realize that there really isn’t a black and white to this. And this is a fandom space. Do whatever you want. Headcanon whatever you want. Just be respectful and kind.

#levihan #meta

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steveyockey · 3 years

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the fact that we textually got the same or more than korrasami but bc of fandom politics korrasami is perceived as undoubtedly canon and destiel is perceived as “only canon if ur a shipper” is so sad sjdjdjdmd sorry this is random but i was just thinking about it

this is deeply embarrassing because talking about the legend of korra finale makes me cry so you should know I’m powering through this response in an emotional state.

the surface reading here is correct but when it comes to specifics I think korrasami deserves substantially more credit that this estimation gives it. korrasami was never queerbait — quite honestly, as someone who shipped it at the time, there was NO possibility in my mind we would ever “win.” it was just cute! it was enough that we knew they would make a good couple and we felt kind of superior that we “cracked” the show with a reading that amicably resolved the stilted love triangle hoisted upon us all the way back at the season 1 finale (it’s important to remember that legend of korra was CONSTANTLY in danger of being canceled throughout its run; the makorra season 1 finale kiss was pushed through despite the lack of build-up because the animators weren’t sure they were getting a season 2). up until the series finale, even noting the deepening relationship depicted between korra and asami throughout book 4 and mako’s disavowal of intentions to pursue a future relationship with korra as made clear in “remembrances,” it was simply not a consideration that korrasami could go canon — there were no lgbt characters on children’s cartoons! gay marriage wasn’t legal! though atla may have ended by confirming kataang, they weren’t required to end the show by canonizing any sort of pairing. and they didn’t need to! it’s korra’s story.

I realize the final episode of legend of korra in the current media landscape might not look like much, but if you can imagine what it was like at the time! gratifying! boundary pushing! a dream come true! and if there was any remaining question about what the last scene implied, co-creators bryan konietzko and michael dimartino both confirmed that korrasami was canon, with the notable caveat (from bryan)

Was it a slam-dunk victory for queer representation? I think it falls short of that, but hopefully it is a somewhat significant inching forward.

it’s a little cringe but this pbs idea channel video (which I probably watched the week it came out) does a good job recapping the mechanics at play. and since the series made it to netflix there has been even more discussion of its impact and the ways in which other tv shows have benefitted from korrasami. the levee broke! mr. ratburn got married! catradora kissed! all in part because korra and asami walked hand in hand into their new life together.

as far as comparisons to destiel go, this should be apparent, but the clear consequential difference to me is that the creators were willing to own and discuss their decisions. bryke were not obligated to address the stipulations of korra and asami’s relationship, but they chose to and they allowed for korrasami to become bigger than just the show. and both of the actresses have been relentlessly positive about the ship! this is not a matter of fandom politics, it’s really just that the authority on what supernatural means remains disputed territory even to the point that its own writers will not talk about the explicit canonical gay love confession of one of their characters after over a DECADE of malicious baiting! it would not have been hard for them to make themselves the hero here and yet they simply chose to sidestep all of it. for like the millionth time on this blog I have to say, again, that the way we win is just by continuing to insist we have the authority. because we do! we always do but especially in the show where authorgod visits a fanfic writer literally to discuss his shitty series finale.

all of that accounted for, the note I want to end on is that this poem remains one of my favorites,

The beloved body that bore you across any distance wept, I wish the earth only moved when I let it. My life, standing still despite this fact is, too, an act of defiance. It is not the moon’s light that demands our praise but the distance it travels to reach us.

#obviously there's a lot of fucked up politics in legend of korra that i won't defend #i will defend a lot of pacing issues as resulting. again. from the fact that nick like. HATED this show #and was determined to stop paying for it even as it was airing and being made #anyway. i will now become normal again #except probably reblog several korrasami things #answered #korrasami #anon #this is the post from when i said i was going crazy on the track. i did indeed go crazy on the track.#for NO reason

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liam-93-productions · 3 years

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Liam’s full interview with Tings Magazine - Part 2

Note: the interview was recorded in may 2020.

You had the support system of Harry, Louis, Niall and Zayn during your teen years. When that support system stopped, having to deal with it by yourself, did that seem like a harder loss than it did leading up to that? It felt more like an identity crisis because that was like your crutch almost, being a part of the band. It got to the point where it was almost invincible. But that kind of got let go. I had serious questions about whether I wanted to be a solo artist. My thing was if the right song came then I wil, then obviously “Strip That Down” came along and I couldn’t really say no. It’s a bit crazy, especially being released on such a pedestal. You don’t want to undo your legacy for what you set for yourself because you achieve so much so quickly. It’s kind of funny. I was playing poker the other day for a charity. Bryan Cranston and Aaron Paul and a couple of big Hollywood celebrities at this one table and me, which was the most random thing ever. They were like, “I’ve got questions that I like to ask people at the poker table. What was your first job?” Everyone was like I was a paperboy, or I was that, and I was like my first job was One Direction. And Bryan Cranston was like “You can’t really go anywhere from there. You’ve set yourself a hard task.” And I thought it was really funny, but it’s so true. One Direction was such a massive thing and I think we were all just existing since One Direction and in a sense, the hype of the comeback is the thing that’s kept us bubbling along. For sure, from that start, it was this massive identity crisis, you were a part of this unit and you knew how you fit in the unit. You knew the part that you played and as soon as that was gone, you couldn’t play the same role and carry on that way because the other units weren’t there to put it all together if that makes sense. So, you really had to try to discover who you were but in the public eye. That was stressful.

How was that process for you, other than being stressful? How did you go about doing that? Really badly (laughs).

Not at all. I disagree with that. You are very much different now than you were then. And you’ve grown into who you are now in a really amazing way. Was part of this identity something that was brewing during your time at One Direction. I feel like you hear Zayn do interviews and he’s been very clear about feeling different than how he’s been projected in One Direction and the identity that he’s become now. Was that the same case for you? Or was it more of a discovery process where you had no idea who you were when you left? Oh no, it was a complete discovery process. I mean if you look as simple as clothes. We were told what to wear at the start. It was like having four twin sisters. It was like ‘you can’t wear that’, ‘I’m wearing this’. So, we each got our thing. Mine was like plaid shirts. And for two years of my life, I just wore plaid shirts because that was my thing. Then we came out of that and went into this black phase where we all wore black t-shirts and black jeans or white t-shirts and black jeans. And when you come out of it and you don’t have to wear black t-shirts and jeans anymore, I was like, ‘what the hell do I wear?’ I went through a complete transition of clothes and different things. And that is only one element of your life, your appearance, what you look like. For other things, for humor, you only experience the same humor for five years, around the same people. Then that changes. You meet other people. And we become more into the P.C. generation of things and it was like “we can’t say this anymore. We can’t do that”. And that was like another thing. As you try to develop, you make several mistakes. I went through the gangster rap phase. And it is the same with music as well. At first, it was like all the chains and rap, it was like escape the boyband scenario for me.

The Miley Cyrus effect. The Disney to bad girl effect. Exactly, I wanted to escape and identify myself differently. And I kind of pushed that to as many limitsas it could go to. Ever since then, as you get older, you realize that time is a wonderful thing. Instead of being on a race to be a certain someone because all your role models are so far ahead of you because they are already there, but they didn’t start there. For me, when I got into acting and doing auditions most recently, I started looking at actors that I love. Brad Pitt is one of my favorite, favorite people, you know, who’s transitioned to being the most amazing person, who has his own identity. I was thinking, how did he do it? So, I watched an interview of him at twenty-six. You have to watch it. He barely answers a question in the interview, you can’t believe it’s the Brad Pitt you see now.

That’s thirty years of media training in between. Exactly! And this was when he did his first role. I already had my first role, being in One Direction, so I’m even further on than he was at my age. I don’t have to worry so much now I just have to have trust in the process of whatever life is, I know this sounds a little bit around about the house, but I just think you have to take a back seat and move steadily into things. When you are a kid, you are in such a rush. You’re like I want it now. I want to be this guy. When I did my Hugo thing, it was all about muscles and training, and I was looking at Mark Wahlberg. And Mark Wahlberg is freakin’ Mark Wahlberg! It’s a taken him years and years to be Mark Wahlberg. It’s just where you set your sights for your role models, I guess. It’s the little thing that it has to come now and that’s what pop stardom is like, because you need it right now because you are already in it. I’m not waiting to come up, I’m already in it.

Quick and constant. There’s this constant need to feed the system or you’re out of the system. Yeah, and it’s easier for artists nowadays. If you look at NSYNC, after they broke up, it was like, unfortunately, nobody really cared about what J.C. and the other boys were doing. So, they didn’t get the articles. Now, it’s like you are your own charge in that. You can be the front page of so-and-so if you really want to be. You just have to do the right thing on your channel. So, it’s like being able to be in charge of that stuff helps artists a lot more these days. But once again, that’s pressure because we are all in charge of our press and media from our phones. Whereas, they would have to go into work and have someone lay our the interviews or they wouldn’t get them. So, I suppose it’s a different type of pressure really.

Yeah, and it’s a different landscape. They would have it laid out for them, and those interviews would last months and months, where today it’s like one day. Then it’s swipe up, swipe left, and onto the next thing. The lifespan of what we put out is so much shorter. That’s the ting. I had TikTok out yesterday and I haven’t really invested a lot of time into something. But I made this really stupid song about cookies that went with my video. I literally just made this fun song in my house and we were like “Screw it” let’s make a music video for it. We did like one of those Lonely Island type videos and put it out. It’s one of the pieces of content that I cared about the most because I made the whole song and whatever. It was fun, and I wanted people to enjoy it the same way I did. But even when you post something like that, I see some people where it just goes completely over their heads, that this is just a fun thing to look at. It doens’t mean anything. It doesn’t mean that my next album is going to be about freakin’ cookies or whatever. I think we’ve lost some of the lightheartedness, having to take ourselves so seriously all the time. It doesn’t make any sense to me. It’s like, you can view the average time that someone looked at a post, so it’s that cutthroat. If they stayed on for five seconds or whatever, the average time should be the full time and if it’s not, the post was bad. You have that power now, but it’s in seconds. Even the average time someone came on to look at it, it’s down to the seconds.

You brought up the hype of a reunion and relevancy and keeping that alive. That interest. Where does that stand? There’s a lot of conflicting articles about a One Direction reunion. What can you say or not say, what’s the official word? To be honest with you, I keep mixing up the words reunion and anniversary. Our anniversary is coming up; it’s ten years that we created the band which is amazing. It’s a huge achievement for all of us. Every so often, I’ll accidentally say reunion and I’ll be like “oh my Dog, that conflicts another report.” I’ve been really clear that there’s not a reunion, just because I know music schedules. Harry just put out a music video and that’s got two years in it before we even think about a reunion. And I just don’t think everyone’s done yet. I think everyone’s enjoying their time, making their own workm that little bit of freedom. Um, and One direction is not exactly a side career that you can have. It requires you to be fully in it. Until we can all stop and commit to the band for whatever reason, I don’t think it can come back. I think there will be a reunion and I’m excited about it and I think it’s be a lot of fun. It will be interesting to see if we have the same essence that we had as kids.

Essence meaning synergy on stage or camaraderie? I think a little bit of both. I mean One Direction was such a free time, and people enjoyed the fact that it was five lads on a stage having a good time. They didn’t care if we sang in tune or if we fell over. That’s what the show was about. It was chaotic. We’ve all become these more polished popstars. I don’t know if we have the same carefreeness about us, is what I’m worries about. But it’s been nice we’ve all been talking, staying in touch. It’s the first time that everyone’s spoken in the last five years. It’s just nice that everyone’s grown into being nice people. There’s none of them that I really hate. Everyone’s grown up into nice young men who just gone on a bit further from where you left them.

Who are you closest to? Do you speak to any of them regularly? We have a big respect for each other. And I don’t think we give each other enough credit for how we’ve helped each other as well. I speak more to Louis and Niall than I do anybody else. I speak to Harry on occasion. I think we don’t have very much in common as people. There’s nothing wrong with us. We just don’t have as much in common. And Zayn, sadly, has fallen completely by the ... which is terrible. I feel for him sometimes, but at the same point, he made his decision on that. And it’s not something you can go back to lightly. If I saw him on the street, would I say hello? 100 percent. It doesn’t bother me, intrusively. I’ve already spoken about his great news. Having been through it myself, ... it’s interesting. I just think it’s a lonely scenario to be in, not being able to speak to the other people that helped you get to where you are.

If you were to guess, or maybe you already know, would you see that reunion including Zayn or is that over and done with? I think it’s over and done with, for the time being. You can never fully discount it because you had the Robbie Williams Take That scenario. I remember watching that concert when I was in the band. It was so interesting that they were in a band, he left and had all the success he had, and came back. He had his own section of the show which I thought was interesting. They weren’t down in the dumps. They had some of the biggest hits in Britain. I don’t think you can fully discount it. I know for now it’s not possible. I think, for now, it would take certain people to admit wrong in a scenario and I don’t see that happening because they don’t even realize it yet. That’s a little further down the line.

If a reunion happens, how do you think you would envision that creatively? Everyone has such different formed identities. I actually think that we’ve picked up on that already, not knowing what is about to happen next. I remember from the tour screens from the very last tour. The introduction with the songs showed us on video doing different things. It set us apart ever so slightly. But I feel like if we came back together, it would be a celebration of what One Direction was, what is now, and each of the members. I think the tour screens would Harry is a completely different aesthetic that I was. I just think the band’s name is completely ironic because everyone has gone in opposite directions. Maybe, that’s the point of the name. I don’t know. Yeah, I just think it would fit back together quite seamlessly, for completely different reasons.

#liam payne #liam's interviews #tings magazine #05.11.2020

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fatehbaz · 3 years

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it's too tragic when you reblog pictures of industrial facilities tagged ":("

hmm, yea. thank you for noticing that.

the reason why i first began applying “:(” as a tag to images of industrial facilities, post-industrial decay, resource extraction sites, or otherwise devastated landscapes was because i wanted to make it clear that i wasn’t sharing images of ruination or social/environmental degradation as a form of voyeurism. don’t want to gawk. i wanted to make it clear that i’m not sharing images of ruined land or architecture to revel in “ruin p0rn” or to indulge in “the aesthetic”. i don’t share an image of quiet vacant defunct strip mall parking lot in a gloomy Rust Belt exurb to simply be like “cool!”

i don’t think everyone who explores the imagery of ruination/decay is necessarily engaging in voyeurism and i imagine that many people do understand (and sincerely care) that there is underlying violence or “hidden” history just out of sight in those images, even if not everyone can articulate precisely which histories/policies resulted in the ruination, or maybe we can’t all articulate why exactly those images are haunting/uncomfortable. and to be fair, i think plenty of people who explore this imagery do so specifically to reflect on what has been lost, on the injustice, the death, and what can be reclaimed. there’s a difference, maybe, between witnessing ruination primarily as nostalgia/melancholia and, instead, contemplating ruination as hope/reclamation/righteous fury. though i also imagine ruin p0rn is trivialized in many outlets/media where it shows up. i know ruin p0rn (or, at least, the aesthetics of industrial decay) have been especially widespread since 2009 financial crisis and advent of so-called “millennial burnout” and concurrent wide popularization of “capital!st realism” and “stolen futures” and retrofuturist nostalgia concepts in the past decade or two, etc., appearing on or in: this site; media features about defunct mid-20th-century chain stores or tourist parks; photo essays featuring Eastern European housing complexes half-covered in mid-winter snow under grey skies; US major media outlet stories about Pittsburgh; the uncredited photo collages in the background of 2-hour-long “raining at 3:00 AM” lo-fi utube video mixes; photosets published alongside think-pieces about Detroit; etc.

in a tomblr dot com anon message, i was recently accused of “incessant moralism”. i’m not interested in moralizing. but, to reinforce the accusation and remain on-brand, i guess: one of the criticisms about ruin p0rn is how, aside from the troubling “consuming the spectacle of decay from a safe/removed distance which may or may not inadvertently desensitize the observer” aspect is that, at least in the US, ruin p0rn stories/aesthetics might trivialize the matter by depicting vacant/abandoned spaces without acknowledging that real people still live, breathe, love, die in these places. or without acknowledging the social/political/institutional forces that designed these landscapes, that killed and continue to kill. and i don’t want to cheapen, insult, dismiss the ongoing lives and struggles of people living on poisoned land. and i also don’t want to imagine their/our lives as singularly defined only by that struggle or pain or legacy of ruin. victims are never only victims. Empire, powerful institutions, agents of extractivism of course have a vested interest in making sure that the allegedly “hidden” histories and lives remain unseen.

i imagine that, essentially, most people on the planet live on land poisoned by extractivism. or at the very least, all or almost all humans live on land in some way drastically altered over centuries of mass soil loss and soil microorganism death; mass other-than-human species extinction; mass devegetation; invasive/non-native plant introductions; and industrial extraction. (you could argue that indeed all land is poisoned, no matter how far removed a place might seem: non-native Alaskan lupine altering soil in Iceland; non-native riparian sport-fish and cattle rangeland in Patagonian Andes slopes; oil/natural gas extraction in “remote” Siberian boreal forest which eventually supplies major urban areas and international export market; .Antarctic ice loss from anthropogenic/industrial climate alteration; etc.) but some people live in places of concentrated carcinogens or other poisons, where lung cancer; threatening ev!ction notices and letters from immense institutions; literal dispossession of their home; and direct physical violence from state-ordained powers are still very imminent and an everyday concern/fear.

witnessing (or personally experiencing) that kind of poisoning, dispossession, being-forsaken. there is heartbreak, sadness, rage, defiance. an image of a small house set against the perimeter fence of an industrial-scale petrochemical refinery, or an image of the muddied river coursing along a vast iron ore mine. those images kinda speak for themselves. so, if i share them and i don’t want to make any additional comments which could distract from or dilute the power of the image, instead i add the “:(” tag. there is a lot of emotion. a lot to consider about these places, histories, lives. sometimes you listen to them, and frown.

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lokiondisneyplus · 3 years

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Loki is the latest Marvel Studios TV series in the long-running franchise and it’s currently ongoing with five episodes so far available to stream on Disney+ Hotstar Malaysia. For previous breakdowns of Loki episodes, check out Episode 1 here, Episode 2 here, Episode 3 here, Episode 4 here and Episode 5 here.

If you want a non-spoiler guide to Loki, you can head on over here.

Courtesy of Disney+ Hotstar Malaysia, we were lucky enough to be the only Malaysian media to participate in a roundtable interview with Loki Costume Designer Christine Wada and Loki Production Designer Kasra Farahani.

This interview with Loki Production Designer Kasra Farahani has been edited for clarity.

Keep in mind that we’ll be discussing some elements from all five episodes of Loki so far, so there will be spoilers below:

Q: You’ve previously worked on Black Panther and other MCU movies. How different was the experience of working on a TV set instead of a movie’s? Were there limitations?

Yes, I’ve worked on several Marvel projects. For me, this is the most fun one, maybe because I’m in a different position than I was on the other ones. But also, just because this project is unique in a couple of ways.

Number one; it’s literally in its own timeline from the rest of the MCU. It’s separate from the stories we’ve all enjoyed and seen in the MCU so far. The other thing that this one has that’s really great is the amount of visual and narrative variety. We have this kind of base in the TVA that we spend a lot of time in but also we have all these exciting different places in the world that the story takes us to. These were great worlds to design and to imagine.

In our case, there was no difference. The thing about the Marvel series is that it’s pretty much like Marvel movies; in terms of their creative ambition, in terms of the way they’re scheduled, the fact that we have one director.

There was not much about it (Loki) that resembled an episodic project, except for the fact that it was six hours of content that we were trying to make, so it’s a very long project.

In terms of resources, I didn’t ever feel that we were unduly stretched. Always, when you get a creative brief like this, there’s always a period at the beginning of every project where you’re reconciling the creative brief and the resources that you have. That has been the case for every project that I’ve ever worked on regardless of the size. There’s this beginning phase where that’s the case and oftentimes, it’s in that process where you come up with some very great creative solutions that are a direct result of some of the limitations, actually.

Yeah, I wouldn’t say that we had some extraordinary limitations in this case (for Loki), but that’s generally true for all projects, in my experience.

Q: What were you inspired by when making designing the sets of the TVA with its retro-futuristic and anachronistic aesthetics?

In the source material, the TVA had a lot of different things going on, but one of the strong themes also was this armada of desks, which is kind of typical of a post-war era bureaucracy look. There was a grain of that in the source material but a lot of it also came from the show’s creator and writer, Michael Waldron, who described in the original document I read before interviewing for this job.

He described the TVA as a kind of mix of Mad Men meets Blade Runner. Part of these two strong visual references for us. On top of that, me and director Kate Herron, even before we met and spoken to each other, were inspired by Terry Gilliam’s Brazil also as a strong influence because of the anachronisms that that story had and also because of the clear presence of this strong monolithic bureaucracy, which is something that we have in the TVA also.

For the TVA, we were looking a lot at wanting to create a world that had a paradoxical feeling, being an imposing monolithic architectural space that has brutalist elements in them and had almost Soviet modernist elements to them. The colour palette and the materials and the whimsical patterning were much more like American style modernism.

The result was hopefully when you’re in an environment like this, you don’t know whether to feel terrified or invited. Hopefully, it creates that feeling in both the characters and the audience; this kind of cognitive dissonance in not knowing whether they can trust the TVA or not. That’s the narrative objective.

The writers came up with these ideas and the idea with that was to kind of create the bubble gum wrapper in the Renaissance era (Loki Episode 2) and the futuristic shovel in the early 20th-century farm field (Loki Episode 1). These ideas were placed there to create a trail of clues for the TVA to follow before they have clarity on Sylvie’s identity. But for the anachronisms generally, that was something we tried to do throughout the TVA to have all kinds of strange things from different timelines and different worlds popping up in terms of props, like the Infinity Stones in the mail cart and stuff like that.

Q: What was it like working with Tom Hiddleston, who is a producer on Loki?

It was very exciting to have this opportunity to take the character and his storyline in a different direction. It became all the more exciting when I read the scripts and I saw the type of journey they were going to take the character on.

Tom is a professor of Loki, basically. After all, ten years or so of playing the character; he knows it better than anybody and he has an in-depth understanding of the character and his backstory; the character’s family relationships and he was really helpful in giving a little talk to all the department heads about the background of his character, which was very informative.

Q: Recently, Loki series director Kate Herron said that 90 percent of production sets were physical. Does this include the world of The Void, and can you tell us more about how you brought it to life?

That’s true. That was what was unique about this show, because of my own design approach, and my goal in creating this large monolithic brutalist environment, I felt strongly that the sets needed to be built kinda wholly and that they needed to have the ceilings in-tact. This was also supported by Loki cinematographer Autumn, in that the way of her own style of photography is very wide and low-angled photography, which is why for both of our creative goals, it made a lot of sense to build these sets like completed and 360-degree environments.

For the TVA, that was almost always the case, with the exception of when you saw outside a window. With the Void (in Loki Episode 5), a lot of that was built practically as well. What I can tell you is that we build a large piece of this landscape on a soundstage, which was about 150 feet by 200 feet of undulating wilderness terrain. In that, we would bring in these different scenery elements on different days to make it feel like different places within the Void.

For example, one day there was the bus stop terrain where we meet Loki. One day it was the giant head. One day it was the drive-in movie theatre where we find Sylvie. All of these things were brought in and we shot there over the course of seven days. The terrain was designed in such a way that depending on what angle you shot, it felt like a very different place. Backgrounds were put in during post-production in visual effects. The Loki palace, where the Loki variants kind of hang out, the bowling alley, all of that was also a 360-degree built set as well.

Q: What was the most challenging set of the entire Loki series that you had to work on?

We had a lot of very ambitious sets but I think the city of Sharoo at the end of Loki Episode 3: Lamentis was a very technical set. The goal was to create this virtual one-in, that appears as a single shot. This was a very involved and elaborate process of choreography, basically.

All the different departments were involved to make this happen because as we watch the sequence, we see tons of actors running around, there are explosions happening, the camera’s panning up to see the planet above crumbling and asteroids pelting the surface.

There was a lot of planning that went through at the very beginning. We brought the paper models of this to Autumn, our cinematographer and creative director, to use to plan some of their shots. One day, we had some more information that fed back to the art department where we developed more involved and elaborate drawings and models which again, fed back to them. In this way, we had kind of an iterative conversation to arrive at what the design was.

So, as we start to build the set, many of the department heads came to visit and check the progress. We rehearsed what the shot was going to be, so we could exactly fine-tune the set to meet the needs of this shot and see where the edits needed to be. In order to do this, we needed to adjust the exact width of the roads or move a piece of scenery here and then figure out exactly, okay, there’s going to be an explosion coming out of the ground here and another explosion coming out of the building here and this is when the camera looks up to the sky and sees the planet explode. This is where the window breaks and this is where the guy jumps out and grabs him and there’s a fight.

There are many, many people involved; Monique Garderton, our stunt coordinator, Kate Herron, the director, and also the special effects team, and of course, visual effects, deeply involved, and Richard Graves, who is kind of our AD (Assistant Director), the circus leader of all of it, organizing everybody to kind of work on this thing altogether. It’s the sort of thing that involves so many different departments that it can only really be discovered when working in a big group together.

I would say that was maybe the most challenging technically because there were so many logistical parameters and so many moving parts.

Q: What are your thoughts on diversity in the production of the creative industry?

I think that it is critically important. As somebody who is myself an immigrant, I was born in Iran and my family moved here when I was quite young. I’m super happy to see the direction that the industry is going in. I think Marvel has been particularly excellent in providing leadership in this way and I honestly have to give a lot of credit to Kate Herron, our director.

Almost more than any other project I’ve been on, she prioritised inclusivity and diversity. I mean, lots of people, don’t get me wrong, it’s on every project and on everyone’s mind, but I think Kate went above and beyond because it’s so fundamental to her worldview and she’s such a sensitive soul in this way. One of the many ways in that it was such a joy to work with Kate and I’m very proud of the many different ethnicities we’re representing, and how many women we’ve had. In our art department, we had close to fifty men and women.

It’s important and leads to better creative results that are more fully realized and more representative of what the fans really want.

#Kasra Farahani #production design #Loki #interview

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