#i see how filtered it really was in asia

[avatarmerida]

Okay but listen, the time immediately after ASIAS is so important to me because like

Luz: You didn’t once suspect he was the Golden Guard? Not even a little? He looks EXACTLY like how I described him to you!

Willow: Um, not really?

Luz: What do you mean?

Willow: You literally never said he was hot so

Like I fully HC that Gus is a little sus of Hunter because something in the back of his mind remembers Luz’s description but Willow has the rosey haze filter from the beginning and when everyone is like “scrawny this” or “annoying voice” that she is like genuinely lost because she just sees a babe™

#huntlow #winter toh #Hunter toh #willow park #toh #the owl house

[absolutebl]

[15th May, 2023.]

Hi!

Disclaimer: [Right at the onset,..I mean no disrespect towards any actor. Neither am I trying to question their preferences. These questions are based out of my observation and my understanding of men's fashion and styling,...that's why the detailed analysis, and discussion.]

The one thing I have noticed in the BL industry,...particularly the Thai industry,...is the obsession with KPop. Not that anything is wrong with it,...BUT I see a significant shift in which BL actors have started to transform themselves. Be it hairstyle, fashion choices, and overall demeanour,...it seems to align with their recognition of catering to a predominantly female audience. While there is nothing inherently wrong with this, it raises intriguing questions regarding the impact on the definition of 'masculinity' within the BL genre. There is a 100% possibility, that this shift happened due to the understanding that the primary audience for BL series is female, and thus the actors' appearance and behavior are tailored to this audience's preferences.

Let me start by taking the example of Jeff Satur. His styling has undergone a huge change post the success of "KinnPorsche" The Series. Not that there is anything wrong,...but he carries himself better when styled a certain way. (As someone who understands men's fashion,...fake lenses, and crop tops doesn't suit Jeff at all.)

Because, this trend towards feminisation also raises questions about the portrayal of masculinity in these series. The traditional definition of masculinity often emphasises physical strength, assertiveness, and stoicism.

Another classic example would be Zee Pruk who certainly stands out from the pack, compared to her earlier appearances vs now. Not sure if it's a result of him losing all the muscles, or styling for a particular event,...but he surely seems to be replicating his current on-screen partner a lot. And I'm not sure if the current style suits him. (Zee Pruk looks good when he is muscular,...lipstick and too much jewellery seems to not suit him.)

This shift towards a more feminine portrayal of masculinity may reflect broader cultural changes in the definition of masculinity,...as societies become more accepting of diverse gender expressions and sexualities, traditional gender roles and expectations may be challenged.

However, this shift also seems to reinforce harmful gender expectations by perpetuating a binary view of gender and sexuality. This binary view may pressure individuals to conform to specific gender expressions or sexual preferences, limiting their ability to express themselves authentically.

Another actor, without whose mention this post would be incomplete, is Pavel Phoom. His body has certainly undergone significant changes from the time he made his debut in "2 Moons", until the last disaster of "Coffee Melody". (Pavel carries himself really well. And his aura screams of masculine energy. Making him lose weight, and adding too much of filters to his visuals is doing no justice to his handsomeness.)

I do understand that the BL genre exists within a cultural context where gender norms and expectations are constantly evolving, especially in Asia. And that's why this shift in appearance could be viewed as a response to changing attitudes towards gender and the expression of masculinity. BUT,...It is crucial to consider both the progressive potential and the potential drawbacks of this shift. On one hand, it may signify progress in breaking down rigid gender norms and offering a more diverse representation of masculinity. On the other hand, it could inadvertently reinforce a binary view of gender and sexuality, or raise questions about authenticity and the pressure to conform to specific beauty standards.

So,...my questions are:

How do you perceive the evolving representation of masculinity among BL actors over the years, and what impact do you think it has on the genre and its audience?

In what ways do you think BL actors redefining masculinity aligns with the preferences and desires of the female audience, and how does it contribute to the popularity of BL series?

To what extent do you believe the changing portrayal of masculinity in BL series reflects a broader shift in societal perceptions of gender roles and expressions?

Are BL actors intentionally adapting a more feminine appearance and demeanor to cater to the expectations and fantasies of the female audience, or is it a natural evolution of character portrayals in the genre?

How does the fluidity of masculinity in BL series challenge or reinforce traditional notions of masculinity, and what implications does it have for discussions around gender and identity?

What impact does the changing appearance of BL actors have on their acting and portrayal of their characters in BL series?

Does the feminization of BL actors represent progress towards breaking down traditional gender norms and stereotypes, or does it perpetuate harmful gender expectations by reinforcing a binary view of gender and sexuality?

xoxo

Arjuna

P.S: [Although for the first time ever I have added the pictures of the Actors being discussed, so that it gives a clear understanding of what we are intending to discuss, without creating any confusion. I repeat,...it's a generic discussion. Please be nice and respectful in the comment section.]

ERm, I don't know that I want to wade into this one. I tend to think that anything that chips away at all notions of policing masculinity (or femininity for that matter) is probably a good thing.

*backs away slowly, raises the power shield of androgyny*

#asked but not answered

[yanderepuck]

Spoopy I'm taking your reblog and talking shit on America.

So (sadly) I am American. For reference, America as a country is about the size of Europe. This is my personal experience . I live in the north east part of the USA, Pennsylvania to be more precise.

Now I don't care for all of American History, but mainly the American Revolution, American Civil War, and a good bit of WWII.

Every morning you stand and pledge allegiance to the US flag. This means in every classroom of every school there is an American Flag. The moment I learned that America is the only country who does this. I stopped. Which could have actually gotten me expelled in some cases. There is a flag outside too most churches also have a flag. Government buildings, municipal buildings. Cemeteries. Some restaurants have a flag outside. YOUR GODDAMN GROCERY STORE. You will see plenty of trucks with American flag decals on them. That's how many we see in a day.

Moving on to that WWII part I brought up. It wasn't until 3, years of ACTIVELY RESEARCHING AND LEARNING about the European war did I finally beat out of my brain that "America won the war!!!" We are taught to believe that by America joining the war that AMERICA WON THE WAR. If a single country deserves the credit it's Russia tbh. WE. ARE. NOT. TAUGHT. THAT GERMANS WERE AGAINST HITLER!!! WE WERE BOT TAUGHT THAT THE ALLIES REFUSED TO HELP JEWS!!! WE WERE NOT TAUGHT THAT AMERICA HAD CONCENTRATION CAMPS FOR FELLOW JAPANESE-AMERICANS (let alone not even confirming if they were Japanese and just took in any east Asians). WE WERE TAUGHT THAT AMERICA IS GREAT! THAT AMERICA SOLVES ALL ISSUES! THAT AMERICA CAN CREATE PEACE!

This is why America shoVES ITS FUCKING ASS INTO EVERY COUNTIES ISSUES. "There won't be war on American soil!" THATS WHY WE SEND MILITARY EVERYWHERE. TO BOTHER WITH THEIR SHIT.

We view Europe as either "Whoa. Exotic. Beautiful. Futuristic", or else "wow they are stuck in the middle ages"

GERMANY????!!!!?!?!! sorry but a good amount of people here still think you're Nazi Germany.

ALL OF ASIA???!!?? I'm sorry. I don't even want to bring up the stereotypes Americans have. "Indians aren't Asian" WHAT CONTINENT ARE THEY ON THEN. "Oh wow the Chinese are so dirty" "Japanese and Chinese what's the difference?" "There's two Korea's?" JUST SHUT THE FUCK UP!

As much as I HATE it here....you really can't blame Americans for their own stupidity of how the world works outside of America. It's how it's written in our text books. You can tell someone to pick up a book, but that doesn't mean it's actually going to tell them any different.

If you don't actively look for things wrong with America, you really aren't going to see it. You can't trust the news, or what you'd see online. So what the hell are you supposed to trust??? Published books are filtered too.

America would be great if it actually became what it was supposed to be.

People came here to get away from religion and the royals. To start a new life and become rich off the land.

UNPOPULAR OPINION!!!! AMERICA NEEDS TO BE SPLIT INTO SEPERATE COUNTRIES. AMERICA IS TOO BIG TO BE A SINGLE COUNTRY. WE ARE LITERALLY TOO DIVIDED

[cicaklah]

For your ask, #9! Drop the skincare routine!

I have a very detailed skincare routine called: being 35 with oily skin and a good hand of skin genes courtesy of my parents.

I used to wash my face with an elemis oil cleanser but then my shower broke and I forgot to move it to my other shower, and then didn't use it for 6 months and my skin looks exactly the same. I don't really break out anymore and I don't really have many wrinkles yet. I eat fairly well and drink water and don't wear makeup other than very, very occasionally. I also don't tend to get hormonal breakouts much and stress doesn't do much either...I really am just lucky. Unless I'm on the equator: high humidity and temperature makes my skin go full oil production and I feel gross. But that's not really a problem anymore since I left south-east asia.

I'm sceptical about skincare having much effect on my skin because it is generally fine, and I try not to obsess over any little things I do have, because that way lies madness and insecurity. A few years ago I got obsessed with having PERFECT skin, like serums and acids and moisturiser and face masks and all that korean 30-step bollocks and just...most of what you see online from influencers isn't real anyway? its photoshop and filters. It didn't make me happy. The packaging and the smells were the best part.

Even with so called 'perfect' skin there's pressure to DO SOMETHING!!!!! in case I ever look my age? In case I do something and mess it up? Leave off with that bullshit, honestly.

Anyway sorry for the lecture I just have a lot of feelings about how skincare is broadly a scam.

#meme me #skincare

[femmegoode]

can you do 9, 14, and 25 for the drag race asks please?

for sure! 💗

9. someone you'd love to see on all stars?

i’d love to see nicole paige brooks from season 2! i follow her on tik tok and she’s honestly hilarious. i love seeing queens from early seasons come back because their drag has really gotten a chance to grow.

14. who's a queen you think is totally underrated?

Asia O’Hara for sure. when i go back and watch season 10 she makes me laugh every time, and she definitely gave us some memorable runways lmao. and i just really love how she stood up for the vixen at the reunion for season 10. she’s funny, she’s fierce, and she’s kind. i love her and everyone else should too!!!

25. if someone you knew was about to start watching the show for the first time, what season would you tell them to start with?

tough choice but i think i’d probably say season 2. you get to skip that weird greasy filter over the camera but still get some of the hokey aspects of the old seasons. it’s got some really historical drag race moments too lmao

tysm for the ask :)

#thecollectionsof #ask

[mbb-project-entity]

Chapter 34

Tracey pulled her Mercedes into the garage next to her daughter’s Audi and hit the button to close the garage door. The rattling of the shutter announced to her Saint Bernard, Max, that she was home. As soon as she walked through the door, he jumped up and showered her with kisses.

“Down, boy,” Tracey laughed. “Go find April!” Max turned and ran off towards the living room.

Hanging her keys on the hook by the entrance, Tracey flipped through the mail that April had left for her in the mail slot below the keys. There was a bill from Saks Fifth for a suit she’d bought the other week and a letter from her alumni group. Thanks to her daughter, Tracey hadn’t seen a piece of junk mail in years, she’d almost forgotten that it existed.

Heading through the breakfast nook and into the pristine white kitchen, Tracey picked up the watChloeg can off the marble counter top, and filled it up in the kitchen sink. She watered the the plants on the kitchen windowsill, then went back into the breakfast nook and watered the flowers sitting in the middle of the table. A couple of leaves had started to brown and Tracey delicately pulled them off.

She glanced at Max’s water dish to make sure he still had some. There was a couple of hairs floating on the surface, so Tracey took it into the kitchen with her and dumped it out. She rinsed the dish in tap water a couple of times, then opened her refrigerator and got out the pitcher of filtered water. She filled Max’s dish and returned it to its spot, then put everything else away.

Her chores finished, Tracey headed into the living room, where she found her daughter, April, doing her homework. She was sitting on the floor and using the coffee table as a desk. Max was laying next to her with his head in her lap. The 50″ plasma screen TV was off as usual. Tracey wasn’t even sure why she had bought it. The two of them so rarely used it.

April was still in her school uniform, her legs were folded up inside of the long skirt. She had undone the buttons on her cuffs and rolled up the sleeves some. Her brown hair was tied up behind her head with a black scrunchy. She looked so studious.

As if she sensed Tracey’s presence, April greeted her mother without looking up. “How was you day, mom?”

“Not bad, lunch was a little weird.”

April put her pencil down and looked up. “Oh?”

“Yeah, the Asia branch had a horrible mishap and thousands of orders got mixed up. They’re usually the best branch. I don’t know what happened.” Tracey had a weird feeling that that wasn’t what was so troublesome about lunch.

“I’m surprised you made it home on time.”

“Well, I left my other projects half finished. I was just so tired from the whole Asia deal that once we got everything sorted, I just headed home. I’ll go in early tomorrow to finish the other stuff up.”

“You left something unfinished?”

Maybe that’s what was eating at her. Tracey hated the thought of tasks left being half done. “Well, I just wanted to get home to my baby.”

“Aww, thanks mom.”

“I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about Max.” The two women laughed at Tracey’s joke. “How was your day?”

April pulled out several pieces of paper and handed them to her mom. “Another biology test, another 100.”

“That’s my girl!” Tracey handed the test back. “What are you working on now?”

“I’ve got a calculus test in two weeks and I’m studying up on it.”

“Good luck. Let me know if you need any help. Is there anything in particular you want for dinner?”

“Whatever you feel like making is fine with me.” Candice cocked her head, “And what are your plans, darling?”

“I was probably going to go home and do some studying. I have a test tomorrow.”

Candice laughed, “No, no, I mean your plans. You know, for the future. What are you wanting to do with your life?”

“Well, I’m majoring in criminal justice but I really want to continue with an advanced degree and see where it leads me. Maybe a judge or a federal agent?”

Candice rolled her eyes, “Geez, I’ve dealt with plenty of those in the past.” Gina didn’t know what that meant but she continued to listen. “Alright, look. I’d love to really spend some time with you and fuck your life up good, but I’m really busy with your fat aunt and she kinda distracted me with you and your slut mom over there.” Hannah grinned at the mention of her name. Candice turned back to Gina. “You’re done with college. It’s time to drop out.” Gina nodded. She figured it was time to let it go. “You have zero ambitions from now on. You’re as lazy as your fat aunt over there. In fact, you’re going to apply to McDonald’s tomorrow and work there until you retire. Sound good?” Gina nodded, curling her lip. Working anywhere sounded horrible but she knew she had to make some money. “Do you have any hobbies?”

Gina nodded, “Sure, I did competitive cheerleading in school. I like bike riding and spinning. I love reading and watching romantic comedies.”

Candice shook her head, “Forget all of that. Not anymore. In fact, you now hate all of those things. You like video games and that really it. You sit on your ass all day and play video games like a lazy little bitch, don’t you?”

Gina nodded, really wishing her Aunt Candice would wrap this up so she could go home and fire up her PC. She had lots of games she wanted to download.

“Oh, and, hey Hannah?” Candice called. Hannah looked up. “Who’s that guy I stopped out there in the driveway? He should still be waiting.”

Hannah peaked out the window. “Oh that’s Kaz. He’s one of our creepy overweight programmers that I can’t stand.”

“Perfect. Gina, Tony is your new boyfriend. He’s waiting outside to take you to his apartment. You’re completely in love with him. And, Hannah, he’s the son you’ve never had. You think he’s perfect for your darling daughter.” Hannah and Gina beamed, both thinking of Tony. “You’re going to get in the car with him and suck his little dick all the way home, sound good?”

“Of course!”

“Good girl. Now, whatever Tony likes, you like. Clear?” Gina nodded enthusiastically. Her life was improving by the minute. “He probably likes all that anime shit and comic books. If he likes it, you love it. He probably watches tons of porn too. You love porn.” It was true. Gina lived for Internet porn.

Candice figured her work was done. “Alright, say bye to your slut mommy. She’s gonna take the care home and book some more parties, are you?”

Hannah nodded, “Yeah, I’m gonna talk with some of the guys at my old job about making me a website with my stretched out pussy right on the front page!”

Candice laughed, “Wow, too much info! Shut up and leave.” Hannah turned and left. Gina said bye, but Hannah had orders and she shut the door behind her without responding to her daughter. Candice turned to Gina, “Your Prince Charming is waiting.”

As Gina skipped out to Tony’s beat-up old car, she called out to him, “This is Gina, your new girlfriend. Take her home and fuck her in the ass!” Tony made plans to do that. Gina ran up to him and wrapped her arms around him. Candice heard her saying something to him about pulling his dick out so she could suck it as she went around to the passenger side. Gina’s head disappeared below the window to blow the cock that had been in her mother’s ass less than an hour ago and Tony drove off.

[berthelsen95helbo]

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[neocrush]

unpopular opinion: the voting thing they did at the very beginning of i-land isn’t brutal, asians are just too filtered to do those kind of stuff 😁👍

#growing up in an asian country #i can confirm this #but living in europe #i see how filtered it really was in asia #compared to here #thoughts are being thunk

[magnificent-nerd]

Muslim Supervillains: a tired stereotype

Image description: Supervillains clockwise from top left, Iron Man 1 (2008), The Boys TV (2020), Batman vs. Superman Dawn of Justice (2016), and Wonder Woman 1984 (2020). Please note the frequent use of Yellow Filter.

I decided to list all the times Muslim and Muslim background actors and/or characters (also referred to as SWANA and/or MENA, which stands for South West Asia and North Africa, and Middle East and North Africa) have been given the role of 'supervillain' in live action superhero movies.

Spoiler: it's a lot.

It's also more times than any Muslim actors have appeared as 'good guys' in a superhero movie which, obviously, is really bad typecasting and overt racism.

-

In chronological order:

Iron Man (2008)

The Ten Rings, a terrorist group made up of multiple MENA and Muslim groups, led by pantomime-level villain Raza (actor Faran Tahir), and also including actor Sayed Badreya among the supporting villains without names.

Sayed Badreya commented on being typecast and always killed in Hollywood movies in this GQ article: "I die in Iron Man," says Sayed Badreya. "I die in executive decision. I get shot by everyone." (x)

-

Batman vs Superman (2016)

From the theatrical cut of the movie we have an unnamed African 'General' and some rando mercenaries/terrorists that Lois Lane interviews in Nairomi, Africa, referred to only as "the desert" throughout.

All reference to the General's actual name are only available in an extended/deleted scene. So, all in all, a very shallow depiction of these characters and merely used as a prop for the Lex Luthor angle.

-

Venom (2018)

There is one baddie for the entire movie and he's played by Riz Ahmed, a British actor (just like the lead actor, Tom Hardy, is also British).

Riz Ahmed plays Carlton Drake, a somewhat stereotypical supervillain doctor who has basic and forgettable world domination goals for reasons.

Despite the fact Ahmed gives a great performance, and the fact that at least here is a MENA supervillain that isn't dressed or presented in any of the stereotypical ways these movies usually present MENA and Muslim supervillains, he is still a Muslim actor playing a one and done bad guy, and it's pretty two dimensional.

Technically he plays two supervillains in this movie, being the voice actor for his symbiote, Riot. He still dies, though.

-

The Boys (2019 - 2020)

Alright so The Boys is a TV show, but I have to give it an honorable mention for such a spectacularly racist depiction of a Muslim supervillain character, who is not only badly written but barely appears onscreen for more than a couple of minutes in total at the end of season 1 (2019) and the first couple of minutes of season 2 (2020).

See my post on Naqib here.

-

Wonder Woman 1984 (2020)

Arguably the most cartoonish and racist depiction of Arabs and Muslims as generic villains and baddies (since The Boys TV) with no motive other than to 'bomb stuff' for 'reasons', set against a generic White Savior narrative. (Yikes.)

I honestly don't think there is anything redeemable about this movie either, and I'm pleased it got fair drags from critics upon its release for multiple issues, not just the overt racism and Islamophobia. (x) (x)

But the fact that Warner Bros thought this racist depiction of Arabs and Muslims was okay to release in 2020 really says a lot about the racist state of Hollywood generally (but that's another post).

-

There we have it!

That is a full list of Muslim supervillains (and in the case of Venom, a supervillain played by a Muslim actor).

And sadly that's also it for Muslim character representation in live action superhero movies. They are all bad guys!

(Wow, who saw that coming /sarcasm.)

Read on for side notes, and how upcoming Disney Plus show Ms Marvel isn’t going to automatically fix this industry wide problem when it has its own casting problems:

Side note: there has been a fleeting glimpse of a nameless background character here and there, but only once in a movie and twice in TV shows.

A couple of fleeting glimpses from nameless extras hardly makes up for all the Muslim supervillains we've had to see over the years.

For example, it took Marvel/MCU/Disney 13 years to show any Muslim characters onscreen at all, from Iron Man in 2008 all the way up to Disney Plus show Falcon and Winter Soldier (2021). Please see my post about how badly Disney failed at good rep for these nameless extras.

-

Now, before anyone pipes up with 'but Disney Plus is bringing in Ms Marvel soon!', let me inform you that many of us are wary of and upset with Disney for their casting decisions, and many other problems to do with the Ms Marvel show (x) debuting in 2022.

One stand out problem is the casting choices which further perpetuates colorism.

Colorism means favoring white, light skinned, and western features in actors, therefore affecting the casting and depiction of SWANA, MENA, and Muslim characters, lending a distorted, white-washed, western, and Orientalist lens to SWANA and Muslim representation.

What we've seen so far with the Ms Marvel supporting cast (not the lead herself) is a cast made up of way too many non-Muslim and non-Pakistani actors to play Muslim and Pakistani characters.

Brown people are not interchangeable, yet studios (especially Disney) rely on the ignorance of western audiences to get away with this blatant colorism.

The Ms Marvel show also has light skinned, biracial, and even Christian actors cast to play monoracial, brown skinned, Muslim characters. That is not okay!

Yet of course, when it comes to the one character who will likely be the villain on the show (as he is in the comics, Kamran) the actor cast to play him, Rish Shah, is quite clearly darker skinned than say, Aramis Knight, also cast in the show to play another love interest to the lead, Kamala, and general good guy. This is colorism; brown skin = baddies, light skin = goodies.

Casting white and more western actors for the good guys, but brown and Muslim actors for the bad guys, is typical colorism and Islamophobia at play within the industry.

So, no: the Ms Marvel Disney Plus show won't 'fix' Islamophobia in superhero movies.

We still have a long way to go.

~*~

Have you spotted any Muslim, MENA, and SWANA characters in superhero media lately? Tell me!

Visit me on twitter, visit my blog.

#muslim supervillains #superhero genre #critique #marvel critical #disney critical #muslim representation #representation matters #fix ms marvel #disney plus #ms marvel #colorism #hollywood #mcu critical #mcu criticism #disney criticism #wb criticism #wonder woman 1984 #islamophobia #racism #casting #mena characters #mena actors #swana characters #swana actors #muslim characters #muslim actors #film critic #movie review #representation #mena

[teawaffles]

Louis and the Aquaria: Chapter 2

Two days after that. The normally-unused hall had undergone a complete transformation — and Fred was stunned.

“Wow……”

Sitting before him were three large water tanks, roughly five metres wide. Within each one were some aquatic plants, as well as 20 to 30 fish in a range of vibrant colours and distinctive appearances. They swam through the water, sometimes gracefully, sometimes powerfully — the beauty of the aquaria was simply overwhelming.

“What do you think, Fred?” asked Louis, as he walked up to him.

Without taking his gaze off the tanks, Fred shared his thoughts.

“I’ve never seen such beautiful fish. Are they all from other countries?”

“Indeed. Southeast Asia, Africa, and South America — I heard that they were collected from these three regions and brought here via special channels. There was a concern that the quality of our local water would not be suitable, hence even the water has been directly imported from their native rivers and lakes.”

“The scale here sure is different……”

Even the water that filled these tanks had been procured from the fishes’ native habitats: once again, the thoroughness of this endeavour left Fred in awe.

“I’m planning to bring in more of Herder’s equipment at a later date; but for now, all I can do is to watch over them like this…… Oh?”

Noticing something strange, Louis peered into one of the tanks.

Before his eyes, a small pufferfish was biting the fins of its tank mates. Looking at the other aquaria, it was clear that other tiny skirmishes had broken out.

Seeing the colourful fish engaged in unbecoming violence, Fred looked puzzled.

“It seems even fish need to be compatible with one another.”

“Indeed. It looks like it isn’t enough to simply divide them by their native regions.”

Hesitating a little, Louis slowly put his hand into the tank, and broke up the fishes’ fight as gently as possible. [1] Confirming that the conflict had been resolved for now, he breathed a sigh.

However, Fred spoke up in concern.

“If it’s already like this from the start, Mr Louis, then it looks like it’s going to be quite difficult for you.”

“Still, it must be done. ——For the sake of William’s plan.”

Hearing those words filled with conviction, once again, Fred could feel the strength of Louis’s emotions toward his brother.

✦ ✦ ✦ ✦

Two days after the fish had moved into the mansion, the hall underwent another transformation.

The curtains had been drawn, and the entire room was dim. The large water tanks had been removed, and around twenty small aquaria were now lined up in their stead. Each tank was outfitted with the latest cutting-edge machinery to assist in the fishes’ upkeep.

In charge of their care, Louis quietly strolled among the tanks, scrutinising the fishes’ appearances one by one.

“Yo, Louis. How are they?”

Just as he’d completed his round of checks, Moran and Fred entered the hall.

Looking at his notes on the conditions of his charges, Louis answered in a businesslike manner.

“There are no problems at present. I’ve finally managed to understand their individual dispositions, hence their care should proceed more smoothly from here.”

“That’s great — though, it has gotten a little crowded in here.”

Moran looked around the room. Beside him, Fred was staring curiously at a device attached to the top of the tank.

“Is this machine necessary for taking care of them?”

“Yeah, it’s called a filter: it serves to improve the water quality,” Louis explained briefly.

In order to ensure he'd covered all bases, Louis spared no effort in his research, making detailed reports to Herder as he employed a variety of equipment in the fishes’ care.

Certainly, for the aquaria to be mechanised to such an extent, the level of technology required was several steps ahead of its time. To use such revolutionary technology for the sole purpose of rearing tropical fish: one could even call it extravagant.

As Moran watched the machines in operation, a dubious look crossed his face.

“These guys have been living in the wild up to this point, so it does feel a bit pitiful for them to be shut indoors all day. Why don’t you let them swim in the big pond outside once in a while?”

But Louis gently dismissed his proposal.

“I understand where you’re coming from; but we have to consider issues like how they would adapt to the water, and so I have refrained from doing that.”

“Then, at least bring the tanks outside so they can enjoy the sun.”


“That can’t be done either. If the aquaria were to be placed under direct sunlight, there would be other problems such as algal growth and spikes in water temperature. Hence, the day-night cycle has been replicated using artificial light.”

“An artificial sun, huh. All thanks to the development of industry,” Moran muttered.

Louis turned his gaze toward the lights installed above the tanks.

“These incandescent bulbs and other electrical technologies are still yet to be widespread — one can really feel the portent of Mr Herder’s work.” [2] [3]

As the two men made small talk, Fred watched the fish in the aquaria, his face aglow.

Then, the door to the hall opened.

Rhythmic footsteps echoed, and in came William.

“Nii-san.”

Louis broke off his conversation with Moran, and turned to face his brother.

“How has your work been?”

“It’s going well. Once we convey to Stapleton that we’re keeping tropical fish, I’m sure his interest will be piqued.”

“That’s good to hear. I hope your contact with him will be a success.”

“Thank you. And I’m glad to see that the fish are doing well. As I thought, it was the right decision to entrust their care to you, Louis.”

“I owe that to both your and Mr Herder’s help.”

Even as his reply was modest, Louis puffed out his chest.

Watching how close the two brothers were, the elder Moran smiled. But as he looked at the aquaria again, a tiny doubt suddenly struck him.

“By the way, we’re keeping these fish so we can meet with this Stapleton guy, right? Then when that’s done, what’ll happen to them?”

Louis tilted his head slightly as he pondered.

“Well…… As far as I understood his nature, in all likelihood, he’ll want to take the fish. In that case, we’ll probably hand them all over to him.”

He’d said that with a straight face, and Moran was stunned.

“Really? Don’t you think we should keep at least one of these tanks in the mansion?”

“No, not at all. These fish were collected for the sole purpose of my brother’s plan — they are simply a means to an end, and I hold no greater affection for them beyond that.”

“I-I see……”

For Moran and Louis, even as they shared William’s ambitions as his comrades, they knew full well they were but one of his chess pieces: if he were to order them to die, they were prepared to lay down their lives at any moment.

These fish were also no more than tools — everyone in the room understood that. But upon hearing how bluntly Louis put it, the older man could not hide his astonishment.

Next to them, William glanced over the fish.

“Still, they do look rather healthy, swimming around like that. For one, the colours of these Puntius rhomboocellatus are rather vibrant.”

“Ah, so that’s their name? It’s quite a mouthful.”

What William had just mentioned was the scientific name of the fish. In the event that Louis was unable to care for the fish, Moran and Fred had also familiarised themselves with their names just in case; but since they felt rather formal, Moran didn’t use them very much.

At his brother’s satisfied expression, Louis beamed with joy.

“You have a wonderful eye for aesthetics, nii-san. Besides those, I would also recommend the Mikrogeophagus ramirezi.”

“Hm, they’re a beautiful shade of blue. Though I personally like the Neolamprologus brichardi over here as well.”

“I see. Then what do you think about the Julidochromis transcriptus and Pelvicachromis taeniatus? Both are from Africa too.”

“……You know, it’s great that you guys get along so well — but can we leave it at that?”

Moran’s eye twitched. But they ignored his puzzlement, and continued their jargon-filled exchange.

“Still, taking the practical view, I quite like these Corydoras paleatus for cleaning up remnants of food from the tank. On the other hand, these Laubuka dadiburjori will jump out of the aquaria if they’re left uncovered, and I had a hard time finding tank mates for the Boraras urophthalmoides.”

“Speaking of utility, Louis: I suppose you would fancy the algae-eating Siamese flying fox as well?”

“Fufu, you see through everything, nii-san. Oh, please look over here: the Nannostomus beckfordi are spreading their fins.” [4]

“——Stop! Stop! No more of that talk!”

Reaching the limit of his patience, Moran stepped between the two brothers, yanking them out of their own world.

Their conversation interrupted, Louis looked puzzled. “What’s the matter, Mr Moran? I was just about to show him the Triple Red Apistogramma cacatuoides.”

“You guys are getting completely carried away, and leaving the rest of us behind! And what’s with those bloody names? This isn’t some university lecture!”

Beside him, Fred was pointing at the fish one by one, murmuring the names that had come up in the brothers’ exchange. Clearly, he was making sure he remembered their names properly.

Quizzical, Louis responded. “They might be troublesome for you…… But my brothers and I memorised them in one shot.”

“Y-You’re kidding, right?” Moran paled.

“They really are on another level……”

Astonished, Fred also stopped what he was doing.

Hailing from a noble family, Moran himself was an Oxford graduate; in addition, Fred also possessed an above-average intellect. But when confronted with the intellectual abilities of the three Moriarty brothers, who were able to memorise such complex names in just one go, the two men were unable to hide their amazement.

“I mean, wouldn’t it be easier to give them nicknames instead?”

At Moran’s suggestion, Louis put a hand under his chin.

“Nicknames, hmm…… I haven’t had any problems so far, but giving them simpler names might be a good idea.”

“Right? It’s insufferable to have to listen to those curse-like words every time I come here.”

“Let’s try it then. But I will be rejecting any distasteful ones,” Louis quipped.

Moran looked around the room, his gaze landing on a tank with a school of guppies swimming within.

“Alright….. Then how about we call these ‘Fred’?”

Behind his glasses, Louis’s eyes widened.

“We’re giving them our own names?”

“It’s fine, innit? It’s a lot better than calling them ‘Mr Guppies’ or something.”

“It’s certainly easy to say—— But even so, why call the guppies Fred?”

“Because they’re small and agile, aren’t they?” Moran grinned.

Fred shot him a dubious look. “Is your reasoning that simple……?”

That logic did seem a little problematic; William, who’d been watching from the side, made a troubled face.

“Since you’re adept at disguising yourself, Fred: if we were to name a fish after you, it should something like a leaffish that uses mimicry. Moreover, guppies already have a rather simple name, so I don’t think it’s necessary to give them another one.”

“It’ll be fine — it’s best to go with your gut for such things. Anyway, it’s decided then: the guppies will be called ‘Fred’.”

It seemed that for once, Moran was unwilling to listen to William’s words.

Then, another aquarium caught his eye. Fascinated, he gazed at the sole inhabitant within.

“Ooh, this guy has the tank all to himself, eh? I like that feeling of aloofness — this one’s gonna be called ‘Moran’.”

The fish Moran had just given his own name to, was in fact the tiny pufferfish that had to be isolated on the very first day, after attacking the other fish.

“Ah, about that one……”

Louis did want to explain why the pufferfish was all alone; but seeing how excited Moran was, he hesitated.

However, Moran seemed to have taken that pause in a different light.

“Oi oi, did you like this one too? Sorry, but it’s first come first served — so I get to name him.”

“R-Right. If you’re fine with that one, then……”

Moran looked like he was really enjoying himself, and so Louis decided to keep his silence on the truth about Moran’s new namesake.

Along with Louis, Fred had also witnessed what the pufferfish did on the day it arrived. It pained him a little to see Moran blissfully unaware of that, and he looked away.

Then, a certain tank caught his eye.

“These are quite like Mr William and his brothers.”

“Eh?”

Intrigued, William and Louis followed his gaze.

Dancing before their eyes was a group of beautiful fish with an almost divine air around them — ones that could even be called kings of the aquarium.

“——Angelfish?”

Within the tank, three angelfish were swimming in close formation. They had glittering silver scales, with black stripes running vertically down their sides. That closeness truly reminded one of the Moriarty brothers, bound to one another with firm ties.

Their name brought to mind angels, and William could not help but chuckle in self-mockery.

“I think that’s the last thing we should ever be called.”

“Not at all. In a way, you three are angels — but more of the ones who sound the trumpets in the Book of Revelation.” [5]

At that ironic turn of phrase, William let out another meaningful laugh.

Beside them, with a somewhat absent-minded look, Louis admired the fish he’d grown so familiar with.

“Though, just as Fred said, their elegant appearance certainly befits both William and Albert nii-sama.”

“No need to be modest, Louis: you are just as noble as they are.”

“T-Thank you very much, nii-san.”

Louis turned a little pink at that. Looking at the three fish swimming together, Moran nodded enthusiastically.

“Then starting from the front of the group, their names will be ‘William’, ‘Albert’ and ‘Louis’.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing……” William smiled bashfully.

Moran walked away from the tank. “Both Louis and Fred agree with it, so it’ll be fine. Anyway, I’ll be off.”

“Eh? What about the rest?”

Fred called out to him just as he was about to leave the room, and Moran ruffled his hair as he replied.

“Now that I think about it, there’re just way too many of them. We’ve already named five of them after ourselves — that should be fine for now.”

“I guess……”

Faced with Moran’s overly freewheeling attitude, Fred was lost for words.

“…………”

Under normal circumstances, Louis would saddle Moran with some chores at this point. But his attention was still drawn to the tank with the angelfish.

He had yet to notice it himself; but their three names, now conferred onto those fish, had set off tiny ripples in his heart.

Footnotes:

T/N: Yuumori is set in the early 1880s — you can read more about that here.

[1] Yes, Louis did just put his hand into a tank with a pufferfish 😥

[2] Edison’s first light bulb had been invented less than ten years prior, and this used a carbon filament — tungsten filaments would not be developed until the early 1900s. (Wikipedia)

[3] At this time in history, electricity really was the preserve of the rich and few — even in 1919, only 6% of UK households had electricity (Science Museum UK). Interestingly, AC (alternating current) power systems were starting to be adopted in the UK around this period. (Wikipedia)

Aside: The ‘artificial sun’ gave me flashbacks to the manga Letter Bee… (Wikipedia)

[4] This is a form of threatening behaviour between fish.

[5] Moran is referring to the seven angels that blow trumpets to bring about seven cataclysmic events, as described in the New Testament (Wikipedia). Seraph of the End fans would be familiar with this one :3

Translator’s notes

Louis’s honorifics

I know I used “Louis-san” in the manga scanlation, but I’m just going to go with my gut and use “Mr Louis” here :x

#moriarty the patriot #yuukoku no moriarty #yuumori #english translation #a study in scarlet

[southeastasianists]

Inside an aging industrial park, a nutty, sweet aroma wafts through the air. Smoke billows out of one particular shophouse in a row of red-brick, one-story factories.

Inside, four men clad in polo shirts, hair nets, masks, and heavy-duty gloves emerge from the smoke. With metal rods, they repeatedly slam a mound of caramelized coffee beans inside a tub, breaking them apart. These are employees of Kim Guan Guan, one of the last traditional coffee roasters in Singapore.

Jason Soon founded Kim Guan Guan in 1988. Initially, he saw coffee as only a business opportunity. For years, all he did was import and sell raw coffee beans. But soon, coffee grew into his passion. In 1996, Soon bought a coffee roasting factory and learned how to make kopi, a style of coffee unique to Southeast Asia.

When robusta beans are cooked with copious amounts of sugar and margarine, then ground and brewed, the result is a distinctively thick, luscious cup of coffee. Often, the coffee is made using a flannel sock as a filter, and poured into ceramic or glass cups from long-sprouted kettles to create a frothy, smooth brew. It can be drunk black, or with sugar and evaporated milk.

However, kopi is commonly considered low-grade compared to gourmet brews. Roasters blame this on the price. One cup of kopi costs less than S$2 ($1.49 USD) and is usually purchased at the hot, open-air food courts called kopitiams. An Americano, in contrast, sells for at least twice as much at chic cafes.

Yet kopi has a rich history. According to Soon, this roast dates back to the 19th century. European settlers in colonial Singapore had a habit of drinking coffee. They imported arabica beans, which merchants coated with sugar to preserve it during shipping. When locals picked up the habit as well, many could only afford the cheaper robusta beans grown in Indonesia.

To mimic the flavor of the more-expensive arabica, they cooked the beans with butter or margarine, as well as sugar. Robusta beans have around twice the amount of caffeine as arabica, more bitterness, and less acidity. As a result, kopi, which means “coffee” in Malay, became the regional favorite for its caffeine content, sweetness, and cheapness.

In Soon’s factory, one batch of coffee takes 45 minutes to roast. In the first 35 minutes, the beans are cooked at around 240°C (464°F). Keen-eared roasters must listen to a certain sequence of crackling that signals doneness. Next, the beans are poured into a wok of caramel that emits a cloud of thick white vapor as moisture from the melted sugar evaporates. The roaster tosses the blend to make sure all the beans are thoroughly coated, and adds a healthy helping of margarine. For every 60 kilograms (132 pounds) of beans, Kim Guan Guan uses 18 kilograms of sugar (40 pounds) and 1.7 kilograms (3.7 pounds) of margarine.

Once ready, the beans are poured into a metal tub and the workers quickly separate the smoking beans before the sugar crystallizes. Once the beans are cooled, the roasters store them in gunny sacks before grinding them and shipping the coffee off to customers.

Kim Guan Guan produces 2.5 tons of coffee a day, and clients include local coffee chains, grocers, and hawker stalls. Soon, 54, says he exclusively roasts kopi for two reasons. One, he doesn’t want his palate to be affected by other brews. Secondly, he sees a mission in sustaining the dying art of kopi roasting. “If us manufacturers don’t work hard at preserving it, who will?” he asks. “This is part of Singapore’s heritage.”

Kopi is integral to Singapore’s culture because of its ubiquity, says Nicole Tarulevicz, a history professor at the University of Tasmania who studies the country's culinary heritage. Kopitiams are everywhere across the island, so people can grab their cup of joe anytime they want.

Drinking kopi lets tourists feel like they are getting the authentic Singaporean experience and helps residents connect to their country. “It’s a way of saying that we’re really Singaporeans,” Tarulevicz says. “In a place where there’s been a lot of change...I think it is quite comforting.”

Coffee is still the hottest drink in Singapore, but even that faced change after the third-wave coffee movement arrived in the late 2000s. These days, few people in Singapore want to enter a trade this labor-intensive, Soon says, with its long hours in a hot and smoky room. Young people prefer to work with high-end arabica beans roasted in clean, air-conditioned rooms: no butter or caramel in sight.

Jimmy Ng, the owner of Fresh Roaster, has difficulty finding workers. Out of his nine roasters, only two are Singaporeans and the rest are foreigners. Ng also started out as a coffee distributor in 1979, before setting up his own factory in 1997. Both he and Soon reckon there are only around 10 local kopi roasters left today, down from the 20 that existed when they started their businesses, and far from the heyday of the 1960s when hawkers roasted their own coffee in alleyway stalls.

While coffee roasters in Singapore itself are getting rarer, kopi’s global footprint is expanding every day. Kopi is now available worldwide through Singaporean coffee chains such as Ya Kun Kaya Toast and Killiney Kopitiam, which have opened stores from Palo Alto to Tokyo.

But in Singapore, a lack of properly roasted beans looms on the horizon. Small local kopitiams will have to look for new suppliers if the traditional ones close down, or perhaps import their roasted coffee from Malaysia, where kopi is also a standard.

But there are younger Singaporeans trying to keep the kopi-roasting tradition alive. Faye Sai is the third-generation owner of Coffee Break. In 2014, she and two siblings took over their family kopitiam when their father retired. “We definitely don’t see young people doing it [and] realized that this trade is quite precious,” the 34-year-old says.

Ever since they took over the business, the siblings have expanded the menu to include modern flavors with their traditionally roasted kopi, such as sea salt caramel and matcha, to great success.

Guan Lim, head of the Queen’s Coffee roastery and a member of the Singapore Coffee Association, has another solution to the kopi dilemma: raising the price of a cup. “Profit margins are nearly zero. We need to make this trade more lucrative, otherwise there’s no way we can hold on,” he says.

No matter what, Soon and Ng are certain that kopi will always be in demand locally. What they are less sure about is its quality. It is likely that more businesses will roast or buy their coffee from abroad as more Singaporean roasters close down. “It will no longer be authentic if kopi is manufactured overseas,” says Soon.

At the moment, the future of both Soon and Ng’s roasters are precarious. Soon is unsure whether his children will take over the business. Ng, who is 63, says he hopes to find a buyer before he retires. “If I can’t sell the business, then I have no choice. It will close for good,” he says.

#Southeast Asia #Singapore #Culture #Traditions

[kenyatta]

TANK MIX | Gabber Modus Operandi

TANK You’ve described your sound as “post-alay”. Could you tell me a bit about that term?

Aditya Surya Tarun It’s speculative. Ican will explain better. Ican Harem It’s the way we present the absurdity of our urban culture, the clash between tradition and celebrating grassroots.

TANK You’ve also spoken about the roll-out of 4G and cheap smartphones in Indonesia was integral to the evolution of your sound. What kind of shifts did this enable? IH The way people got access to technology and uploaded everything they thought was interesting – it’s the way we celebrate democratisation. Technology and cheap smartphones are the tools. AST This country is massive, with more than 100,000 islands. It was hard to connect before through the same old channels – TV, government, all that stuff. Then suddenly that explosion shifted whatever stuff that me and Ican love: things like watching Jathilan (local trance dance in Java) or Rantak Kudo (traditional rave from south Sumatra) on smartphones, uploaded independently by real people who are doing it without curatorial bias, a filter or someone else claiming it. I never thought they would be so persistent! Mutating their tradition into something else, something really relevant – at least for me. It took me back to the 10-year-old me having fun, enjoying shadow puppets with my dad. That hit hard on me as a person stuck in the global music algorithm, making stuff for international shit and living in Bali, one of the most colonised scenes in Asia. That shift summoned my inner demon. I deleted all my previous music productions and started writing new ones with simple rules: using the Indonesian scales and tunings of pelog and slendro and doing what they’re doing, not giving a fuck.

TANK It seems like there’s a new wave of international cross-pollination in experimental music where Europe is no longer the epicentre. An act like yourself can release on a Shanghai-based label and play a festival in Uganda, and there’s dialogue and collaboration between all those different scenes and locations. Is this something you feel excited about? And has it influenced your approach to music at all? AST Of course! You know how beautiful it is to have conversations in broken English and dance with Chinese or Ugandan kids? It’s really primal. It’s amazing. To complement [each other] and be on a learning process [together] is weirdly fun. Also, to see how persistent each of them is to challenge and mutate what they have. Chinese and Taiwanese kids’ music is futuristically beautiful, and then there’s singeli From Tanzania, Ugandan acholitronic or budot from the Philippines… I can talk forever about how fascinating they are. IH It was almost a joke for us, and then [those connections] happened. To share this, a multi-disciplinary, multicultural, multi-lingual creative process was a massive goal, to find natural synchronisation.

#gabber modus operandi #Aditya Surya Tarun #Ican Harem #Bali #Music

[mysticalmusicwhispers]

lovers’ dreams

Summary: “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

Characters: India (Aditya), China, Iran/Persia (Roshan, genderfluid). Human names used. Indran, Churan, and Indchu for ships!

Notes: 100% distilled surrealism! This was supposed to be a writing exercise that ran away from me rip. There are many footnotes that explain Many things. Enjoy!

also on AO3! (there are bonus thoughts and explanations there for anyone who’s interested or slightly confused 😅. everything necessary for you to understand the story is here too but I ramble about my thoughts going into the piece on AO3 lol)

———

The willow’s drooping branches hide Yao’s face like a beaded curtain, a bride’s sheer red veil. The spring breeze snakes through the tree, and the sound of wedding suona—sorna rings through the silence. A flutter of phoenix wings brushes past their ear, a whisper on the wind. Roshan walks languidly until they are in front of Yao; it takes a minute—it takes a month. Yao’s face is sharp and his eyes glint, like the jade in his belt. But the kiss is soft when they take his lips in theirs, and it tastes of the rose’s tender petals. The clean sweetness of flowers is warm against Roshan’s face and the fragrance of tea drifts into their nostrils. 

Yao pulls away, and Roshan opens their eyes to polished jade thorns sprouting up from the earth around them—crisp green, sharp-tipped; elegant, dangerous. So these are the fruits of our love. It is fitting. They lean to kiss Yao again, and this time, a laugh peals through the air when they part. It is not Roshan’s, and it isn’t Yao’s. But it is clear as spring water and tinkles like a bell, a joyous sound, and it makes Yao smile—a smile that is gentle, calculating; sweet, dangerous. A copper coin hides in the corner of his lips. “A day fit for a spring dream.” And then he kisses Roshan, and they become lost in each other.

When Roshan opens their eyes again, Yao is gone. They are standing in nothingness, a shell of a dream. A liminal plane. A wedding song echoes in the empty space, loud and cheerful, although there are no musicians to be seen playing the dohol, the sorna. Then sprung from the air, a mirror of fate, Aayeneh-ye Bakh, with its customary candelabras flanking it, and with their dots of golden light—miniature suns, sparkling stars. Its face shimmers, clear and gleaming: a pond on a full moon night—and in it, Yao stands, his reflection bright, splendid robes shimmering like gold scales and fine silk. Roshan reaches out a hand, and pulls him into a kiss.

“Welcome back, my dear.”

———

It is sunset, and a chill brushes past Yao’s shoulders and winds through his hair. The sky burns red, and fork tongued flames lick at the sun. A world bathed in fire, on the cusp of night. A lotus pond sits before him, and a figure is at its edge—Aditya, adorned in gold, the perfect figure of a prince. He, a dream of glittering palaces and beady emeralds, bright against the glow of the setting sun, sharp against the bloody sky. He holds a lotus blossom out, and Yao takes it. It is pure, tender in his calloused hands. A drop of blood drips from a petal. He lets it float into the water, and Aditya watches with him as the peach pink petals drop before their eyes—the lotus head balloons, then falls with the weight of seeds; it withers, a shell of its fruit. Divine beauty is short lived—seasons turn with the winds of change.  

Aditya loops an arm around him, bare skin on bare skin, the warmth of the sun hanging around them like a curtain. Their lips meet. The kiss is long, and lingers even after Yao pulls away; it is slightly bitter, but how could it not be? Aditya’s eyes are like black tea, and Yao tastes acrid lily bulbs. The sky has faded into burnt orange, the aftermath of a blaze. Autumn leaves fall from ginkgo trees, golden yellow, bright with memories of the past. Aditya closes his eyes, and Yao watches him sink into a dream.

The scene shifts before his eyes. The lotus pond morphs into a giant chessboard, and they are on opposite sides. Aditya plays white. Cream colored pawns meet chocolate brown knights, and they watch as kings rise and fall, as steady as the spinning of the world. Chariots race and elephants trumpet; the cavalry fight with long swords and bows, and the peasants use polearms, raised fists. Yao meets Aditya’s eyes, warm but gleaming with an ambition that has never gone away. He nods to his neighbor to the west, to his rival, lover, partner, equal. Aditya smiles.

“So we meet again.”

———

It is afternoon, and the sun is warm on his face. Roshan sits on a bench in the courtyard, holding a cup of coffee in one hand, a pomegranate in the other. Aditya nestles into their side, and they give him a feather light cheek kiss, gift him a wisp of air. They hold out the pomegranate, offers it, and Aditya takes a bite. Roshan takes the other half. They watch as the fruit regrows, seeds become jewels, glittering rubies in folds of red fabric. Roshan holds one up to the light with a critical eye. They spread tawny wings, amber eagle eyes alight with the pride of the past present future. A lion and the sun. The wings disappear—a trick of the light, reality fallen away. Then they hold up the cup of coffee.

“For you.” Aditya smiles, and offers a cup of black tea in return.

We have shared many things, and fought over equally many. How will it be in the future? He takes a sip, and falls through the cup.

A cemetery of swords surrounds them, a memory of things gone by. Afternoon sunlight filters through the trees, winds into Roshan’s hair. Idly peaceful. Flowers sprout through the earth; wither; climb up the rusted metal once again. A vine of roses twists around the hilt of a ceremonial spear, supple and full against cool, glinting steel. The leaves flicker, green yellow dead green again. Its blossom is still fresh red, like passion, like their love, pooling around them like a million memories, a still night in the river of time. Aditya looks at Roshan, different yet the same, a reflection of what they once were. Familiar, always, despite the changing tides and shifting dreams.

———

Notes

this part might actually be longer than the fic itself rip 😔 reminder that there’s extra rambling on ao3 lol

Suona/sorna: suona (唢呐) is a traditional wind instrument often played at wedding and funeral processions in northern China! (also used in Southeast China + Taiwan) It’s very loud and has a super brassy sound, but personally I think it sounds alright! The instrument came from Central Asia and is also used at weddings in Iran (where it’s spelled sorna/sarna), where it’s played with a dohol, a large cylindrical drum.

Phoenixes: wedding imagery in China, where a dragon symbolizes the groom and the phoenix the bride. There’s also an analogue to the phoenix in Persian mythology, a simurgh, which is a benevolent creature that is said to purify the land, roosts in the Tree of Knowledge, and apparently has seen the world be destroyed 3 times. Can symbolize healing, divinity, wisdom, and life. (the simurgh symbolism doesn't have much relevance to the fic but I thought it was incredibly interesting to read about lol)

Spring dream: very loosely referencing the Chinese phrase 一场春梦 (yi chang chun meng), which literally translates to an episode of a spring dream. It means the feeling that past predictions or events were actually totally wrong and fruitless, like you expected something (probably really good), but then woke up to reality not being up to your expectations? I can’t translate 😔

Mirror of Fate: In traditional Iranian weddings, a large, elaborate table with flowers and food and different spices is set up (sofreh aghd). A mirror of fate and 2 candelabras are also placed in the center of the table. The mirror represents how fate brought the bride and groom together, and the candelabras represent light and fire. The mirror is there so that when the groom looks into it, the first thing he should see is his betrothed's reflection.

Lotus blossoms: in China and India and many other parts of Asia, lotuses represent purity (they grow from dark mud but the flowers are pure white/pink), the divine, elegance, spiritual promise, the good part of humanity. so, a lotus with a drop of blood in Yao’s hands would be interesting.

Lily bulbs: this is purely self projection but lily bulbs (baihe) are used in Chinese medicine and I despise them. They're not super bitter but they taste starchy, bland, and off. Also lilies and lotuses are pretty similar and I thought that would be interesting :>

Chess: idk if I need a note for this but chess originated as an Indian game called Chaturanga and spread over to China and Iran, among many other places in Asia.

Tea and Coffee: nothing really special about this besides that Iranians Really Like tea. Decided to make India drink coffee instead for contrast; realistically he’d also be drinking tea lol

Eagle eyes: the Iranian/Persian symbol of the Faravahar, from Zoroastrianism has wings that are supposed to be eagle wings (I think? correct me if it’s just unspecified). You’ve probably seen it; it depicts a man with spread wings, half kneeling in a side view. Nowadays it’s also a symbol of Iranian culture, history, and national pride, besides being representative of Zoroastrianism.

Rose: national flower of Iran, and obv I don’t need to explain the other rose connotations. Also I’ve fully adopted the hc that Roshan and all their stuff smells like roses so that’s there too.

Lion and the sun: getting lazy with the explanations, but the short version is that it was a very important Iranian national symbol for many reasons, moreso tied to the state than culture (imo); it was also on the national flag up till the 1979 Islamic Revolution. Although I’m still debating how much Roshan is associated with the state, I also think sun and lion imagery fits them (glory, golden days, pride and courage). It’s super interesting, go search it up if you wanna read more!

This whole fic was somewhat inspired by this one, and the indchu bit was also somewhat inspired by this fanart.

If you made it down here, you have all my gratitude. Feedback is welcome and appreciated! Thanks for reading <3

#fic musings #the three sections *can* represent specific historical time periods; even if it's very vague; however my original intention was to just have #them kiss in a surrealist painting's landscape; so you can really read it however you want. there are more thoughts on ao3 tho! :> #aph india #aph china #aph persia #musings #aph iran #hws india #hws china #hws persia #hws iran #indran #indchu #churan #hetalia fanfiction #hetalia #aph #hws #hetalia fanfic #hetalia fic #aph china fic #aph india fic #indran fic #indchu fic #churan fic

[namjoonfluff]

Fervor

pairing: Jungkook x Reader

genre: a bit angsty but fluff at the end

summary: you’re on tour with BTS and Jungkook gets injured while you’re there.

word count: 2,600

It was easy to see how the boys kept their energy going throughout the shows. The dressing room was buzzing with frantic energy; makeup artists running around their stations with brushes galore, stylists attempting to straighten out the clothes they were wearing. Several people with headsets rushed hurriedly through the dressing room, keeping an eye on the band. They knew their jobs were on the line if any of the BTS boys missed their cue. And then there was you. Just you, the partner of Jungkook. You had nothing better to do than just observe the action carefully from your spot on the sofa, which was placed out of the way in a corner of the dressing room. In fact, you had been advised by management to stay out of the way. After all, the behind the scenes of BTS shows was a well-oiled machine and they didn’t need an unnecessary cog messing it up! 

If the management team hadn’t drilled that into your head already, Jungkook definitely had. He was less brash about it, simply asking you to busy yourself with work while they performed. However, it was hard to get anything done in the chaos that was the dressing room. What were you supposed to do? Take business calls over the shouts of the stage manager and chattering of the many makeup artists? There was no way this environment could foster any opportunities for you and your business so you simply just watched. While you made it sound like a chore, seeing what Jungkook was like at work was fun. You watched as he politely thanked the artist for touching up the foundation on his forehead and you loved seeing how he interacted with his bandmates; he was so care-free and relaxed around them. It could just be difficult at times. Between soundchecks and press opportunities to the actual shows themselves, you didn’t get much time to actually spend with Jungkook. There was an odd date here and there. But by date, it was going to the local fast food restaurant to grab a quick bite before heading back to the hotel to sleep. You can’t remember the last time the two of you had a full-on conversation like you used to do. The one-sided staring match you were having is cut short by the stage manager calling for the boys. You hear the thumps of music begin and thousands of fans screaming. It’s showtime! As soon as he hears the shouts, Jungkook is fully immersed in his world. He begins jumping up and down, getting pumped for the show that's about to start. There are whispers coming from his mouth as Jungkook recites lyrics he’s sung a million times before. He’s in the zone and so are the rest of them. That’s why when they exit the dressing room, Jungkook pretty much forgets you exist! He strolls past you, fiddling with his earpiece and microphone. It’s only when he’s out the door that Jungkook remembers you’re here with him. He quickly dashes back to the dressing room, gives you a sloppy kiss on the lips and runs to catch up with the boys. The chaos in the room slowly simmers as makeup artists and stylists filter out to get a quick break. It’s now that you can sit back and get some work done. You scroll through work emails, eyes quickly scanning over everything you’ve missed. As the Marketing Manager for a popular fashion brand in Asia, it was important that you kept up with your emails. You never knew what you might miss if you left them for just a day! The sound of tapping replaced the silence in the room as you responded to the most urgent emails. You had almost become scared of silence throughout your time with BTS. It wasn’t often that you were alone in a quiet room with just your thoughts to keep you company. The silence had you thinking about home, about your family and how you had basically packed up your life to follow your boyfriend around. And that frightened you! The thought of losing it all...

As you press send, the room begins filling back up with people. You didn’t need to look at the clock. You knew it was time for the first costume change in the show by watching the flurry of people entering the room! And no sooner had the makeup artists and stylists entered, the panting and sweaty members of BTS rushed in, stripping off their clothes as they went. You watched Jungkook carefully as it was so endearing to see his passion and love for his work. But today something was wrong. He wasn’t acting like his usual self! Jungkook tried his best to hide the fact he was limping into the dressing room. However, you could tell he was in pain from the way his head hung low and eyes stared at the floor. He sat back in the director-style chair and you saw the relief on his face as he took the weight off his feet. Jungkook’s chest heaved rapidly as the sweat was wiped from his brow and the artist patted it with powder. He always exerted himself too much and ended up getting hurt. Yet, no matter how many times people told him, he didn’t want to disappoint anyone. Not you, not the fans and definitely not his bandmates! Each of you shared a glance through the giant Hollywood mirror. Jungkook attempted to give you a weak smile but he had already spotted your concerned look. His eyes almost pleaded with you not to do or say anything. He didn’t want to make a fuss; he just needed to get the show over with for today. Then he could rest. As much as you wanted to make sure he was okay, you nodded and gave a reassuring smile. Jungkook was going to be fine - or so you thought! 

It’s no more than fifteen minutes later when Jungkook is being rushed off the stage and carried into the dressing room by one of their bodyguards. His face so contorted in pain that tears are streaming down his face and onto the bodyguard’s shoulder. You know what’s happened before anyone has to explain it to you. One of his arms is outstretched, reaching out to the heel of his foot - almost as if he’s a wizard trying to fix it with magic. But he wasn’t and this definitely wasn’t going to be a quick fix. They lay him out on the floor of the dressing room and call in a medic who can see to his foot. There are massive crowds of people surrounding him and it’s not long before the other boys join the group to check if their friend is okay. Somewhat excluded from the circle, you hover over someone to keep an eye on your boyfriend. As the medic takes hold of his ankle and examines it, Jungkook cannot hold back the screeches and groans any longer. It hurts to see him in so much pain while there’s nothing you can do. After all, you have the back of a bodyguard separating you and your boyfriend right now. There’s no way you’re going to be able to shove him out of the way to get closer to Jungkook. “We have a ruptured achilles, unfortunately,” The medic states confidently, looking at the boy’s swollen leg with precision. 

After hearing the diagnosis, Jungkook throws his head back against the floor and begins sobbing into his hands. It’s really the worst case scenario! A torn achilles is a death sentence for any athlete but it’s particularly bad for someone who performs for a living! You feel equally as devastated for him. Inside, he will be ruined for letting this happen and giving a poor show for the fans. “We have three songs left,” The stage manager calls into the dressing room. “The rest of you have ten seconds to get back on stage!” 

You watch as the rest of the boys make the hard decision to leave the room and Jungkook stupidly attempts to follow. However, he is quickly struck down as searing pain shoots through his lower leg. The room is quieter now and you’re able to get next to him finally. You grab his hand, soothingly stroking his knuckles with your thumb. 

“JK,” You whisper. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay!” “How do you know that?” He snaps through gritted teeth. Despite your immediate shock at his aggressive tone, you smile through it and continue to console him. He is hurt after all. “These things heal, baby,” You say softly, stroking the hair from in front of his sullen eyes. “It can be fixed!” He rolls his eyes. “I don’t need your optimism right now!” “I’m just trying to help,” You voice gets quieter and quieter with every word. He’s never shouted at you before during your relationship; not even when you destroyed his favourite T-shirt by getting paint all over it. You know it’s because he’s in so much pain but it doesn’t stop the words from creating a hole in your heart. A hole that travels to your throat and blocks it! “What help can you give me right now!” He spits, pointing down at his ankle which grows bigger and bigger every second. “My leg is fucked! I’ve ruined everything.” “It’s fine -” You attempt to reassure him but you are quickly cut off. “No, it’s not okay,” He shouts at the top of his lungs. If the whole room wasn’t looking at him already, they definitely were now. Not only are they looking at Jungkook but you felt the eyes of everyone burning into your back. It was then that you felt the tears prick your eyes and lump become harder to swallow. However, you tried holding them back for the sake of your dignity. You had only been on tour for a few weeks and you didn’t want everyone seeing you ugly-cry for the first time in what was going to be a year-long tour. 

“Can you just leave me alone?” His voice was just above a whisper now. It’s so quiet that you don’t catch what he said at first. Until he says, “Please!” You nod, unable to speak for fear of sobs coming out. It’s with his words that you dash out of the dressing room and head to the buses. That’s the only place you can be alone right now and even then, you have a bus driver sitting waiting expectantly for everyone. The driver simply smiles and nods as you run onto the bus in floods of tears. Your makeshift home for the last few weeks was annoyingly quiet; with just the hum of the engine running through the carriage and the faint sound of the driver’s radio. In the silence, you think about going home and throwing this all away. Was it really worth it? Was it worth being away from your family to see the boy you loved suffer? Did you deserve being shouted at for trying to help? As much as you loved Jungkook, the thoughts about your relationship lingered in your mind and there was nothing you could do to get rid of them. It was hard to shake them away without Jungkook, or the other boys, there to distract you.

As you contemplate how to tell Jungkook about your plans to go home, you hear multiple voices entering the bus. Rather than walking out to see what the commotion is, your back shuffles further into the corner of Jungkook’s bunk. In that moment, you wanted to disappear. If it was possible, you would have transported back to your hometown right then and there. You hear their voices; all of them. In between the concerns of the other boys, Jungkook is telling them he’s okay and asking for you. “She wasn’t backstage at the end of the show,” You hear Namjoon say. 

Someone, you think it’s Jimin, asks: “Did something happen?”

“Well, aside from ruining my leg,” You hear Jungkook say before he explains the situation to his friends. 

“She can’t have gone far,” Yoongi tells the group. “If she ran out with the fans, we would know about it by now!”

You hear Jungkook sigh loudly. “I really fucked up everything, didn’t I?” After listening to his words and how sad he sounded, you choke out a little sob. You never realised how hard touring with your boyfriend would be; trying to manage a job, maintain a relationship and stay sane. It felt you could only choose one of the two at this point. 

You soon realise the bus is quiet and you think that all of the boys have left to find you. However, a moment later, the curtain on the bunk is drawn back and you see a concerned (and hobbling) Jungkook outside. 

“Oh god,” He says after noticing the tears streaming down your face. “I’m so sorry for getting angry at you. It’s just that my leg hurt so much and I wasn’t thinking straight!”

Embarrassed, you hurriedly wipe your cheeks; thinking that by removing the tears, Jungkook would forget what he just saw. He wouldn’t. “Can I sit please?” He asks, trying to balance on his good leg. 

You nod. With that invitation, he carefully lowers himself down onto the bunk bed, wincing and moaning every time his leg so much as moves an inch. “Should you be doing this with your leg?” You ask. “Probably not,” Jungkook replies with a smile. “But I needed to check if you were okay!” 

There he was, putting everyone else before him again. He needed to stop doing that! That’s how he got into this mess in the first place and look at what happened. 

“I’m really sorry,” He says again. “I didn’t mean to get angry with you!” “It’s fine,” You say but your voice is hoarse from crying all that time. “I didn’t realise it would be this hard.” 

“I know,” He sighs. 

There is a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you. You wonder what he could be thinking. Is he thinking about the future of your relationship too? Did he want you to go home? “I think,” Jungkook pauses for a moment. You instantly start thinking the worst. It starts with you mentally starting to list all of the things you brought with you so you know what to take home. Then you think about how much money a flight home will cost. What will your friends say if you come home early? You dread to think what will happen if the press ever finds out. “You’re my rock, okay” He says. “I need you, I need you here, with me, at all times.” 

You are immediately shocked by what he’s saying. “It’s just not the same without you. You know me better than anyone, well maybe not the boys but you’re a close second.” You give him a glance. “What I’m trying to say is,” He huffs. “I’m sorry for being such an idiot and shouting at you. You were only looking out for me. I want to do the same for you!” “I love you!” He says. Immediately, your heart swells; you feel the broken pieces slowly repairing themselves again. 

“I love you too!” You whisper back, leaning over to place your head on his shoulder. He knows you love it when he strokes your hair - especially after you have been crying. It reminds you of your mum somehow! That’s why he goes on auto-pilot when you lean into him; hands automatically going straight to your crown and running his fingers through your locks. 

It doesn’t take long until you’re both asleep, exhausted from the long day you had. You fall asleep knowing that tomorrow would be a challenge. Jungkook was most definitely not going to lay quiet while the rest of the guys performed. However, you felt satisfied knowing that you would be right by his side through every moment; no matter how tough it was.

#jungkook #jeon jungkook #jungkook fic #jungkook fluff #jungkookfluff #jungkookfic #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook imagine #bts fic #bts imagine #bts fanfiction #bts fluff #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts army

[artificialqueens]

Level Up, Chapter Twelve (Branjie) - Holtzmanns

AN: I can't even lie, the support on the last chapter and about this fic coming back made me so so incredibly happy. If you're still here and reading and leaving reviews, THANK you, I love hearing your thoughts and reactions and it honestly is why this chapter came pretty speedily. Enjoy and tell me your thoughts! Thank you writ for betaing <3

“How on earth are there seven thousand people watching this Instagram live? They got nothing better to do than talk to our sweaty asses?”

Monique’s eyebrows push together in disbelief as she looks at Vanessa’s phone screen, her eyes scanning the comments and it makes Vanessa snort, turning the camera towards her.

“It was your idea. I was perfectly content catching my breath and drinking some water now that class is done, or maybe, y’know, taking a shower,” Vanessa quips, her eyes flitting across the screen as she watches the comments fly by at light speed. “But you wanted to say hi to your ‘fans.’”

“They love me,” Monique tosses her braids over her shoulder, batting her eyes at the screen. “Right, guys?”

“Oh my god, you’re ridiculous,” Monet drops down beside Monique on the ground, popping her head in front of the screen. “I’m the one that everyone loves. I mean, how can you not?”

“Very easily.” Monique’s deadpan expression makes Vanessa burst into laughter, shaking her head.

“Y’all are nuts, I swear.”

It’s still strange to Vanessa, the way that this is her new normal. The fact that she can open Instagram and start a live and have an audience, the fact that she can post a picture and have famous people showering her with comments. It’s as if her world has tilted, little slivers of light that are shining upon new opportunities she would have otherwise never been able to see.

Like the fact that Detox has inked her a deal with fucking Fenty Beauty, of all companies, as a brand ambassador and now she has a shoot next week and Rihanna, Rihanna, knows who she is.

Rihanna.

It still doesn’t feel real. Hell, maybe Vanessa actually had hit her head real hard during her last match and the whole period since has simply been vivid dreams while she’s in a coma at this very second. Maybe that’s a more likely scenario.

“Hold up, pass me the phone, I got something to say,” Asia holds out her hands, wiggling her fingers, and Monique sticks out her tongue, handing the phone to her.

“You better be quick. I was having fun with the filters.”

Monet scoffs, nudging Monique’s shoulder as she looks over at Vanessa. “Forget about the filters for a sec. Where are we thinking for dinner? That’s the more important thing to focus on.”

Monique pauses. “Well, see, while I’m a fan of that burrito place we went to last week, it did give me major gas, and I don’t wanna smell up any subway cars on the ride home-”

“Nasty- ”

“There’s a such thing as too much information when the people on Instagram live can overhear you, doofus-”

“As I was saying,” Monique continues, her voice a little louder, “I’m down for some Korean food, maybe. Thoughts?”

Vanessa giggles as Monet shakes her head at Monique, who looks entirely nonplussed. “I’m good with Korean.”

As much as things have changed, from the brand deals and the sponsorships and the people on the street who do a double take when they recognize her, Vanessa’s glad that one thing hasn’t. Her friendships.

She’s not sure how she’d take it if Monet and Monique and Asia started to treat her differently, if maybe they’d think she was a sellout or hate her for having a meme that she has no control over. Her friends don’t pretend as if the whole thing hasn’t happened, either, which she’s sure would feel worse. Instead, they roll with everything, getting excited when Vanessa brings them free sponsored items that show up in her mailbox or scrolling through her Instagram comments and screenshotting the hilarious ones. It’s as if they’re all going through it together instead of just her, and honestly, it feels kind of nice.

The Korean restaurant three blocks away from the gym is one that they’ve frequented quite a bit over their weekly dinners, the booths cozy and a perfect bubble for the gossip they can’t necessarily have while in front of a punching bag. And sure, their last few dinners have revolved around Vanessa’s random celebrity encounters on social media, but today the spotlight is on Asia. Or rather, the grumpy manner in which she’s eating her gimbap.

“I said, there’s nothing wrong. I’d tell you if there was,” Asia mutters, shoving a bite into her mouth.

Vanessa exchanges a look with Monet and Monique. Asia’s the queen of denial, the one who draws attention to problems precisely by trying and failing to hide them. When Asia says that nothing’s wrong, she’s fibbing. Majorly.

“You wouldn’t tell us, you’d stew about it like you are now. So, there’s something wrong. Checkmate,” Monique raises an eyebrow, and Vanessa can’t help but turn towards Asia and nod because hey, Monique’s right.

Asia, though, sulks. “No, there isn’t.”

“Asia. Just tell us!” Monet waves her chopsticks in Asia’s face, who wrinkles her nose. “Did we do anything?”

“No, no, not you guys,” Asia sighs, sinking down lower in her seat. “Not you. You know I’d be quick to beef with y’all if you did something wrong.”

Monique nods. “She’s got a point.”

“Then what? Is it Kameron?” Vanessa asks, and Asia’s expression change is immediate, the way her eyes dart a telltale sign that Vanessa’s hit the nail on the head.

“What’d she do? Do we need to fight her? Though, to be fair, not sure if any of us could fight her. Bitch is ripped,” Monique takes a sip of her drink before she can dig herself in a bigger hole, and it makes Vanessa snort.

“That’s the thing, she didn’t do anything,” Asia scowls, as she grabs another bite. “Nothing at all.”

“Nothing? What do you mean, nothing?” Monet’s eyebrows furrow and Vanessa’s sure that she’s making the exact same expression, too.

“Yeah, what’s nothing?”

“Exactly nothing!” Asia huffs. “It’s been months of us just smacking and that’s all we do, aside from talking about the weather or maybe about Bachelor in Paradise ‘cause she watches that too, but...nothing. We haven’t even been on a date or anything. Nothing!”

“Oooh… ” The way Monique’s realization trails off is comical, and Vanessa has to press her lips together to keep from breaking into a laugh because she does feel for Asia, she really does.

Vanessa’s seen her and Kameron come out from the change rooms or from behind one of the punching bags more than once, the two of them looking ruffled from their little makeout sessions. And sure, Vanessa’s thought that the two of them had more going on. At least, more than what she’s seen with her own two eyes.

But evidently not.

“So you’re waiting for her to make the first move?” Monet gives Asia a look. “C’mon, girl. If you want to date her, then ask her out yourself. Stop waiting around if you want more.”

Monique leans forward. “Yeah, what’s that saying? Follow your destiny?”

“Never heard of any saying like that.”

“Oh, shut up.”

Vanessa clears her throat, trying to shoot Asia a reassuring look. “I think the point that these two are trying to make is that Kameron’s definitely into you, too. She wouldn’t be sticking around if she wasn’t. So what’s the worst that can happen if you ask her out? Maybe she’s shy, or something. Wants you to make the first move.”

Asia scoffs. “Shy? That bitch never stops talking once she starts. I swear, that quietness is totally a facade.”

“There you go,” Vanessa nods, smiling. “See? You know her enough that she’s comfortable around you to loosen up.”

“Doesn’t mean I can ask her out,” Asia mutters, letting out a sigh. “What if she says no? What if all she wants is just this casual not-even-a relationship? What if this is the most I’m gonna get without her running for the hills?”

“And what if she doesn’t?” Monet counters. “Hey, anyone who can swap spit with you for months on end has gotta be into it, right?”

“Nasty. Truly nasty,” Asia grumbles, but her posture is less slouched, less defeated. A little more hopeful.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to feel like she’s using her position of power over you, being a coach, and that’s why she’s letting you take the reins,” Monique ponders, as she lifts up a bite of noodles. “So that she doesn’t feel like she’s pressuring you into saying yes.”

“She really wouldn’t have to pressure Asia at all, she’s jumping at a chance to...” Monet trails off when Asia shoots her a narrow-eyed glare. “Sorry.”

Vanessa reaches out to pat Asia’s shoulder because she feels for her, she really does. “You have two choices, really. You either gotta be happy with this current situation you two have going on with all the smacking and breath mints, or you gotta be willing to take a risk for a higher reward. For a chance of more with her. Though it is a huge risk to take-”

Monet winces. “Vanj, ending on that is not encouraging-”

“-look what you can get out of it,” Vanessa finishes, leaning forward in her seat. “Are you really going to be happy with the absolute bare minimum that you’re getting with Kameron? Is it the way you want things to stay? ‘Cause it seems like Kameron is fine with it.”

“Alright there, Doctor Phil,” Asia grumbles, resting her cheek against her hand, “maybe I’ll talk to her. Maybe, though. I don’t do talking.”

“Tell that to my eardrums who had to listen to you complain about your leggings for twenty minutes straight in the change room yesterday,” Monique mutters, before letting out a squeal when Asia kicks her under the table. ” Ow !”

Asia does look lighter, though, as they head out of the restaurant and towards the subway, a spring in her step that definitely had not been there during dinner. Vanessa just hopes that it’s enough, that Kameron’s feeling the same and maybe Asia’s springboard won’t break from under her anytime soon.

It’s one thing to put yourself on the line, but to risk it all? Vanessa’s a romantic and all that, but she’s not sure that she’d be able to go through with something like that herself if it all went sour.

Brooke’s not really sure of what to make of the way that Kameron’s pacing in front of her closet, to the point where she’s about to wear a hole into the floor. That being said, it is fairly entertaining to watch.

“Y’know you haven’t even looked in your closet yet, right? Aren’t you supposed to be picking an outfit to wear for your d-”

“Don’t even finish that word,” Kameron bites out, holding up a finger and Brooke snorts before taking a sip of her water. “What am I even doing?”

“You’re going out with-”

“Ugh,” Kameron sighs, flopping down on her bed beside Brooke. “This isn’t going to end well, is it?”

Brooke turns on her side, facing Kameron. “Not if you keep dithering like this. You’re putting my anxious self to shame.”

Brooke gets it, though. The way that Kameron’s leg is bouncing and the way she’s unable to keep still are both sure signs that her mind is running at a hundred miles an hour. Considering what Kameron’s about to do this evening, Brooke can’t blame her.

“What if I can’t come up with anything to talk about? What if we just sit there awkwardly and twiddle our thumbs for an hour?” Kameron covers her face with her hands, letting out a groan.

“Is what why you only make out with her in a closet like two teenagers?”

“Shut up.”

“You gotta learn how to have big girl conversations sometime or the other, Kam.” Brooke pats Kameron’s shoulder. “You can talk to me just fine. You can talk to Asia too.”

“But you’re just you. Asia is… Asia,” Kameron mumbles, her voice uncharacteristically soft, and Brooke can’t help but let out a snort.

“Thanks for that non-compliment. Very sweet.”

“You know what I mean,” Kameron sighs. “What if she won’t like me when she gets to know me?”

“You’re a catch. Definitely not my kind of catch, but someone’s kind of catch. Maybe Asia’s,” Brooke dodges before Kameron can whap her with a pillow, grinning when she misses. “Besides, Asia already knows you. You two bicker throughout classes and definitely had things to talk about when driving back from the last tournament. Or was that arguing for the entire drive about the appropriate speed limit on the highway? I can’t remember.”

“You’re terrible at pep talks,” Kameron grumbles, rolling onto her back.

“But you’re feeling better, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Regardless,” Brooke announces, rolling off the bed and grabbing Kameron’s hands to pull her up, too, “we need to pick out an outfit for you. Can’t have you dazzling your star student and date for tonight in your current wine stained joggers. Unless Asia’s into that.”

Brooke gets Kameron into jeans and a tank that shows off her arms and tattoos and Kameron begins to perk up a little at least, looking at herself in the mirror, as Brooke presses an eyeliner pen into her hand.

“Go on. Do your makeup.”

“Do you think she’ll-”

“Yes she’ll find it hot, no you can’t make out with her instead of going on the date. It’ll mess up your lipstick.” Brooke leans back on her hands as she watches Kameron from the bed.

It makes Brooke think, though, as Kameron tousles her hair and slips on a leather jacket and stands a little taller. The fact that Kameron is going on a date with Asia. It’s no secret that the coaches at Brooke’s gym sometimes hook up with the students, despite the fact that it makes Brooke’s nose wrinkle sometimes. It’s relatively harmless, never turning into anything too dramatic. Kameron’s had her own share of them, but this feels...different.

Maybe because Kameron actually cares about impressing Asia, past just the shallow looks and first impressions. She likes Asia and wants Asia to like her too, for more than someone who holds a punching bag for her. Kameron’s toeing the line with Asia from something casual towards something that could be more, and to Brooke, the drop feels real high.

It’s not like they have that much to risk, not really. Sure, a shitty date could make classes awkward for the two of them, though no harm done in the long term. But then why is Brooke’s heart turning over in her chest at the mere idea of it?

She doesn’t know. But she’s going to make her friend look good for her date, that’s for damn sure.

“What shoes?” Kameron holds up a pair of boots in each hand, and Brooke squints as she looks between the two of them.

“The docs.”

“Not too stereotypical?”

Brooke grins. “Way stereotypical. But Asia’s going to eat it up.”

She feels like a mom helping her daughter get ready for her first date. Considering how few dates Kameron has actually been on, how little she takes the leap to get to know people past a shallow level, it somehow feels appropriate.

The sun is beginning to set as Brooke leaves Kameron’s apartment, painting pinks and purples that cast an iridescent glow along the buildings and reflect off of her watch. It’s her second favourite time of the day after sunrise - instead of charging her batteries the way that the oranges and yellows of the morning do, the sunset calms her system, slowing down the thoughts in her brain that go just a little too fast for her liking.

Her phone buzzes when she’s waiting at an intersection, and Vanessa’s name on her screen makes her face break into a smile without her even noticing at first. Maybe it’s just the way that Vanessa’s always so funny, never failing to make Brooke laugh with whatever she comes up with over text.

Vanessa: alert alert Asia is going out with Kam tonight!!!!! Monique and I wanna follow them and see where they go but Monet won’t let us lol

Brooke: LOL. That’s probably for the best. Let the two of them figure it out on their own, y’know?

Vanessa: boooo but that’s boring

Vanessa: Asia said they were going to play something called lob???

Vanessa: tf is that do u know

Vanessa: cuz I thought lob was a haircut

Brooke: Picture mini golf but with small balls that you throw. And without the golf clubs.

Vanessa: haha small balls

Brooke: Really?

Vanessa: IT’S FUNNY

Brooke: It’s a fun game. Went there once some years back and honestly, it feels harder than mini golf. Not that I was good at mini golf.

Vanessa: ok but I’m good at mini golf, does this mean i’d school ur ass if we played

Brooke: Well we’d have to find out and see, wouldn’t we?

Brooke watches the clock at the top of her screen pass by one minute, then another, and Vanessa hasn’t replied, wait, did Brooke say anything wrong? She reads their conversation through again and when her eyes hit the last text…

Wait.

No, it doesn’t sound like she’s asking Vanessa out. Because she’s not trying to. Vanessa’s not, they’re not…

Unless Vanessa’s taking it that way and wants to run for the hills and never speak to Brooke again-

Vanessa: ok lets square up then punk

Phew.

Brooke: Did you just call me a punk?

Vanessa: and what about it??

Brooke: That’s extra burpees for you next practice.

Vanessa: playing dirty!!

Brooke lets out a laugh but it’s more of a shaky exhale than anything else, running a hand through her hair as she walks past the front desk of her apartment building and pushes the button for the elevator. Getting into the elevator alone is a blessing, a chance for her to lean her head back against the mirrors and close her eyes for a second, trying to ignore the way her heart is beating in her chest.

It’s not that she hasn’t thought about it. Brooke has eyes, Vanessa’s beautiful but also now such a good friend but she’s also her student and they’re not like that, they’re not and Brooke doesn’t do relationships-

Ding.

The doors open and it’s almost a relief, in a way, because for a second Brooke gets to pretend that she can leave her worries in the elevator and not bring them into her apartment. But they sweep up on her shore as she unlocks the door, the way they always do when she wants to avoid thinking about something.

Maybe Brooke’s just in her head. Maybe Vanessa hadn’t noticed how her text could have sounded suggestive at all, hell, maybe Vanessa had just been in the bathroom or something and that’s why she hadn’t answered Brooke’s text right away. There’s a million different ways to interpret what had happened, and Brooke’s just working herself up at this point. She knows that.

Problem is, her brain doesn’t always listen.

Yvie’s frowning at a pineapple at the kitchen island when Brooke hangs up her coat and walks into their apartment.

“Not going so well?” Brooke raises an eyebrow at the bent knife in Yvie’s hand and the still-intact pineapple.

Yvie scratches her head. “I really should have just bought the pre-chopped pineapple. But all that wasted packaging, y’know? Figured this was better for the environment.”

“Not for the knife, though.”

“Sadly,” Yvie sighs, letting the knife roll onto the cutting board with a clatter. “I think there’s another one in the utensil drawer somewhere. I’m gonna try again.”

Brooke raises an eyebrow. “Why don’t you look up a tutorial first or something? Maybe there’s an easy way to do it.”

“And ruin the surprise and excitement? Nah,” Yvie shrugs, before grinning. “I’m gonna defeat this pineapple on my own.”

“Have fun with that. And let me know when you’re done so I can have some, too,” Brooke snorts, sitting down on one of the stools at the counter.

Yvie lets out a woo when she pulls another knife out of the drawer, waving it around. “Found it! Nice.”

Brooke leans back on her stool even though Yvie is a good six feet away, because she also remembers the time Yvie accidentally threw a pair of scissors across the room while animatedly telling a story complete with hand gestures. “Careful, Yves.”

“You’re fine. The pineapple is the only one getting murdered tonight.”

“Comforting.”

“Anyways,” Yvie starts, twirling the knife in her hands before lodging it in the side of the pineapple, letting out a curse under her breath. “Is Kameron ready for her date? Did you lend your fashion expertise and all that?”

Brooke shrugs. “Kameron has that part under control. She needed more cheerleading than anything else to actually get herself on the date without clamming up. You know how she gets sometimes.”

Yvie snickers as she yanks the knife back out of the pineapple. “You mean her complete lack of game whatsoever?”

“Yvie!” Brooke admonishes, rolling her eyes when Yvie grins. “I think she’ll be fine with this girl, though. From their constant bickering, they have enough chemistry to warm even Kam up a little bit.”

“Aww. I remember that stage,” Yvie’s face is almost nostalgic, her bottom lip pushing out. “Scarlet and I would always clash in class. Of course, I still found her hot when she was being stupid, but that’s beside the point.”

“And now the only thing you two argue about is about who’s going to hang up first.”

As nauseating as the two of them are, Brooke has to admit that Yvie and Scarlet are kind of cute. The way that they’re making it work despite the fact that they live far away from one another is sweet, as ‘temporary’ as Yvie says their distance is.

“God, I love that bitch,” Yvie’s eyes are almost dreamy, a jarring sight when combined with the knife she’s dangling from her grip. “Speaking of love, what’s the situation with your new lady like? Miss internet sensation herself?”

“What?” Brooke yelps, and the heat that floods to her cheeks is annoying, because from the smug grin on Yvie’s face, she definitely notices. “She’s not my lady. Jeez. I train her.”

“Yeah, yeah. Because that’s what the cuddling on the couch during Chicken Little night looked like. Completely.” Yvie’s look is knowing, too knowing, and it makes Brooke want to fold in on herself, sink under the counter.

“It’s not like that,” Brooke mutters, reaching a hand out for one of the pineapple cubes that Yvie’s successfully chopped and throwing it into her mouth, because it gives her more time to think of something to say.

It’s not. They’re not together, they’re not flirting for Pete’s sake, they’re...they’re Brooke and Vanessa. A washed up coach and an athlete with enough potential and talent and drive to have already made a splash on the boxing world without any professional fights under her belt. Vanessa’s special, more than she knows, and Brooke wants to be the one to nurture that and have a front row seat to her greatness. She’s more than a random person to flirt with and then ghost, she’s more than a sham of a relationship. She’s permanent. At least, Brooke wants her to be.

Desperately.

And not losing Vanessa in the future means that Brooke has to avoid doing anything to ruin whatever it is that they have between them.

“Okay. Tell that to the way you guys were snuggled together like two little puppies or something. It was kind of adorable.” Yvie pops a cube of pineapple into her own mouth, throwing another towards Brooke.

“We weren’t snuggled together,” Brooke mumbles as she chews the pineapple, shrugging when Yvie scoffs and rolls her eyes. “What?”

“So what was it, then? Huddling for warmth? In an apartment with a broken AC that’s always warm, anyway?”

“I don’t know what to tell you, Yves,” Brooke lifts up her hands in surrender. “She’s my student. We’re not doing anything.”

“Y’know what I think? I think you don’t know what to tell yourself. And that’s why you’re avoiding thinking about it,” Yvie says, holding up another cube. “Want some more?”

“Don’t you have to go Facetime Scarlet or something instead of pressing me about Vanessa? God,” Brooke grumbles. “Yes to the pineapple, by the way.”

Yvie snickers as she grabs a bowl, filling it with a handful of cubes. “You’re grumpy when you’re forced to confront your feelings.”

“There are no feelings.”

“Keep telling yourself that. Denial may be a river in Egypt, but it’s also very entertaining on you.”

“Oh, shut up,” Brooke groans, resting her cheek on her palm with her elbow against the counter. “Now go have phone sex with your girlfriend while I get my earplugs out.”

“And I’ll enjoy it, thank you very much,” Yvie singsongs as she waltzes into her bedroom, kicking the door closed and leaving Brooke alone in the kitchen.

She’s sure about what she’s said to Yvie. There are no feelings. Well, friendship feelings, and feelings of caring for Vanessa as a person because she’s pretty damn great and a wonderful person, but...not those kinds of feelings.

Brooke doesn’t do those kinds of feelings. Not when they end the way so many other things do, not when relationships don’t ever last the way that they promise to. Brooke doesn’t need her time with Vanessa to end anytime soon.

Besides, platonic cuddling is a thing. Brooke has snuggled up against Kameron’s bicep more than once during their athlete days on the drives to tournaments. Not that it was ever that comfortable back then, but hey, maybe Asia will like it now.

Maybe she and Vanessa can go play lob at the bar one day at the bar that Kameron’s taken Asia to - not as a romantic thing, because they’re not like that, they’re not, but because Vanessa’s competitive streak is adorable. Something that Brooke loves to see but also something that pushes Vanessa to be a great athlete and is almost mesmerizing to watch.

So, yeah. Lob as friends.

Brooke’s going to emphasize the ‘friends’ part when she asks Vanessa. More to calm herself down about it, than anything else.

#rpdr fanfiction #brooke lynn hytes #vanessa vanjie mateo #branjie #lesbian au #boxer au #level up #holtzmanns

[zhaozaipalooza]

Your Weekly Insight Into SA… Cultural Culture?

Man. Cultural anatomy this week is all over the place, hm?

Well, of course. It’s hard to put your thumb on something as broad as culture, and India - land of over a hundred languages and breaching thousands when including dialects - is a crucible of influences that are more than I can pin down in one post.

Stories swim in and out of recognition, filter through interpretation - Agni himself began as the messenger of the gods, found on the earth as fire, in the atmosphere as lightning, in the sky as the sun. Now he’s slipped more into a general understanding of what binds the land and sky together: an essence instead of a deity.

And even that’s not true for everyone. Parts of South Asia still venerate him - an eight-day fire festival in Karnataka features fifteen minutes of chucking flaming torches at one another with medical assistance on standby… appeasing the goddess Durga in the same act. (How’s that for the adrenaline-crazed sister of Diwali?!)

And, India’s never lost its touch as the land of mystery!

Some of this may be due to idiotic Orientalism, but most of it lies very much in the fact that we’ve been ever-changing and diverse since before the arrival of the Aryans. A wealth of history, religion, and celebration to outfit a continent by ourselves, and in these few weeks I’ve hardly presented a hoard of the treasure.

So here’s something I stumbled across that seems to apply strongly to the princess above (and her mother), and leads into the last week without pulling punches: the Visha Kanya.

Literally “poison maiden” - women who were trained from a young age to become master assassins for Indian kings. Via a disturbing practice, really. CW for snakes and poisons under the cut.

(Yo… 😳) Raised on a diet of toxins and antidotes until they achieved a remarkable immunity by maturity, some of these girls would die, while others survived - vetted as the toxic virgins whose very kiss meant instant death.

It’s said that Aristotle warned Alexander the Great of these women before he began his Indian campaign - also that Alexander died from embracing a Visha Kanya who was gifted to him. Their own skin and bodily fluids became venomous through an excess use of mithridatism. Ladies that make Westley’s trick in The Princess Bride look like child’s play…!

Strangest of all? There’s no historical record of them. They’ve passed into folklore and fascination, as cultural epochs can attest to. And yet, statues of women entwined with snakes stand in relief at ancient sites.

Are they real, or are they not - and could Azula have easily (no doubt metaphorically) been a weapon brought up by posion? Ozai’s cold-blooded angel could have a hell of a twisted backstory after this…

Eek. This one gives me the creeps. Guess it’s another love letter to horror enthusiast and fellow mod Crooked!

See you all for one last week! ✨

#AH YES my other darling… azula! #ray’s weekly insight into sa culture #zhaozai palooza 2021 #atla #cultural anatomy #south asian culture #agni keli #visha kanya