I should have known if I brought up wc I’d have to talk about. But it includes of a lot of issues with feral/furry designs that use feathers in hair. I don’t necessarily know why the conversation only started and stayed in the wc fandom when horse/wolf/lion feral fandoms are still doing the same thing.
Now having feathers in the design isn’t a racial attack first thing off because there’s a lot of context around what feather’s are used, the shape, and where they are placed. If the look is anything like "rave Coachella looking tribal fantasy feathers and beads" it’s probably insensitive. I’m not to sure why it has to be feathers, I honestly think the wc fandom are holding themselves back when it comes to forwarding designs in a unique way. Tail feathers are also left out in this conversation as well, one or two feathers or feathers in the shape of a birds tail are fine but bunched together feathers are leaning to close to how we have our horses wear feathers. This is in the context of the design already looking like a "medicine cat" already its bad. it’s like those yt girls wear feather head bands but animal addition.
I’ve talked about this before but silhouettes are so important, like Native American stereotypes are on the global scale you cannot escape this silhouette you just have to avoid it. There’s no "but it’s in so many other cultures" no it’s not it’s totally unique to our people that’s why people flock to it because it’s so "mysterious, sacred" whatever their weird twisted up reason is. There’s so many unique ways to break this silhouette you just gotta be more creative. And I feel like instead of being more creative and coming up with totally different ideas it’s just easier to lean on these visual native stereotypes to get across "wild mythical nature fantasy"
I could get into the horse fandom and the weird situations they’re doing over there but that’s another crazy thing. I should say because someone will ask, ostrich feathers on like show horses or knights or puss in boots style is fine not the same thing (breaking the silhouette) they’re not related.
And it comes down to understanding what you are drawing and where this imagery comes from, I’m not gonna get my feelings hurt because of your design but I’ll question why are you drawing stuff like that. You cant remove that cultural/stereotypical imagery, and if you don’t care about it then you don’t care about the history or how it looks on your character and art.
I made it this far on the internet but if you want to be conscious about these things good on yea it doesn’t take much☺️👍
Edit: can’t believe I gotta say this but yes other cultures utilize feathers, if people are using feathers that are used in their culture then don’t harass them. That’s weird have some common sense. Ostrich feathers, peacock feathers it’s actually so interesting how native birds to an area affect the culture there.
4K notes
·
View notes
This isn't about Strawberry jam
I want to ramble on about something I am not so sure about what it is, so I will tell yall a story.
So imagine this; You are 20 years old, you live with your partner in your shared apartment, your partner buys a tiny glass jar of strawberry jam.
If I pointed at that moment and asked you what it was, I think you would say “Well, it's a jar of strawberry jam”
Okay now, imagine one week later; the jam was good, but the jar was tiny so you and your partner already ate all of it, holding the empty and dirty jar you realize, wow it has a very nice shape, maybe I can use it as a cup, so you clean the jar and lets it sitting beside your water filter.
If I pointed now and asked what it was, what would you say? “It’s an empty jar of strawberry jam that we use to drink water.”
Okay cool, nice and practical, lets go forward, Imagine 10 years later… Yea I know a lot of time, but hear me out; You are 30 years old and you had a child in the meantime, this child is 7 years old.
If I pointed to the empty jar of strawberry jam and asked what it is, you know what they would say? “It’s a glass cup, we use it to drink water.” Do you see where I am going?
Okay now let's go 30 years in the future, imagine; you are 60 years old and this story isn’t about you anymore, no this story is about your grandchild now. Your 37 years old child has a 10 year old child themselves now. If I pointed to the glass cup and asked the same old question, what would they say? “Oh that's a vintage glass cup that belonged to my grandparents, my parents get it out on… special occasions.” Okay cool, it's a vintage heirloom now I guess.
Okay now Imagine; Someone broke it, what would be said if I pointed to the glass and asked you to say what it is?
“This was an empty jar of Jam, we bought it a bunch of years ago and I don’t remember if the Jam was good or not, but it served us well.”
Ok, and If I asked your child?
“Oh, this was an old glass cup that was in my parents house. I liked to use it when we would drink vodka… I think it was older than me. It's a shame it is broken.”
Your grandchild?
“This was a family heirloom. It was older than my parents and I pretended to give it to my child one day. To be honest, the thing was old, it is a miracle how long it lasted.”
The garbage man that will dispose of it.
“Someone threw broken glass in the wrong bin, I will have to put on my gloves.”
3K notes
·
View notes
Bluebeard's wife
SUMMARY: On a visit to your boyfriend, you end up having to deal with a creep on base, but Soap and Ghost's methods of resolving your problem are... far more drastic than yours.
PAIRING: Soap x f!Reader (and BFF!Ghost)
TAGS: Dark content, Badass!Reader, Established relationship, Dark! a bit yandere! Soap, Dark! a bit yandere! Ghost.
WARNINGS: Canon violence, blood mention, sexual harassment, insults. Soap and Ghost are acting creepy but not towards Reader.
WORDS COUNT: 1,1k words.
A/N: Was thinking about how high the risks of sexual assault are in the military for women + about how much the Task Force could get away with (Soap's mohawk is NOT standard issue lol), but it turned out kinda dark. Not my usual kind of content. This is my first time writting those characters, pls be indulgent.
Your elbow connects with the man’s nose with a satisfying crack.
Immediately he howls, pressing his broken nose with one hand, blood dripping between his fingers.
“FUCK! What the fuck! You broke my nose, you crazy bitch!”
This. This is why you didn’t want to meet the Task Force on base. There was always one brainless fucker who didn’t get the memo that, no, despite having breasts, you weren’t here as a comfort woman.
The private is glaring at you with a hatred as deep as it is sudden, one that screams murder.
The only good side of the situation is, with how loud he’s being, you won’t even need to call for help. Already most of the soldiers nearby are staring at you, muttering among themselves. Not that you can’t beat this guy up on your own, but the military tends to frown upon civilians roughing up their members, you learned it at your expense quite early. On the other hand, soldiers settling accounts between each other was… well, not exactly authorized, but it was way less trouble for you.
He grabs you by the collar, his rage only exacerbated by your composure. The action stains your clothing with his blood. You mentally grimace. You’re no stranger to blood, but the idea of this repulsive individual’s bodily fluids being anywhere on your person is disgusting.
“Are you listening, you dumb bitch!? I’m gonna fucking kill-”
The venom-filled verbal onslaught stops dead as a hand takes hold of your assailant’s wrist.
“Now, now, at ease, soldier. Ya making a spectacle of yourself.”
The thickly accented voice of your boyfriend sends a wave of warmth in your chest.
Your harasser hesitates a second too long, so Soap makes the decision for him, tightening his grasp until the soldier winces, and finally takes the hint, letting you go and taking a few steps backward. Johnny immediately positions himself between the two of you, shielding you.
He’s been smiling the whole time, but it’s the kind of dangerous smile you wear when you’re about to give an asshole a righteous beating.
The private looks partially sheepish, but not defeated, indignation burning in his eyes. He lets loose a torrent of justifications and excuses, actively painting you as the villain, not caring if he contradicts himself in the process. You don’t pay attention to the details of his speech. It’s always the same “she was asking for it” kind of diatribe. The fact that he sincerely believes that there’s a chance that Soap will take his side instead of yours is laughable, but not surprising.
You wonder how long this will go on, until the private notices something next to you, and all blood seems to desert his face as his voice deserts his vocal cords.
You turn your head and, to no surprise to you, Ghost is there. He stands so close to you that your arms are almost touching. Clothed entirely in black, which brings out the white skull on his mask, his presence is as menacing as ever; all he needs to do is scowl at lesser soldiers to make them cower in fear. He doesn’t look back at you, but his support for you is so obvious through the rest of his behavior that he doesn’t need to.
Soap takes advantage of the newfound silence to turn to you.
“Ya good, yeah?” He asks, cradling your cheek tenderly, and stroking your cheekbone with his thumb.
The question is futile - if you were hurt, he would have noticed right away. But it’s still cute to see.
“Yeah. Not a scratch.” you smile.
“That’s my girl”, he smiles back. “So, what the bloody hell happened here?”
You glance at the private behind him. He’s shaking, and the look he sends you back is begging for mercy. Remembering the first words he addressed to you earlier, you realize you’re all out of mercy for today. Thus, with a sadistic little smile, you recount the events.
“This man came to me complaining that I was unfairly privileging Sergeant Mctavish and that he wanted his turn. Then when I explained that I wasn’t some kind of free-for-all buffet, he took it the wrong way and put his hands on me. That’s when I exploded his nose.”
By the time you finish your explanation, Soap’s expression has darkened considerably.
“I see.” is all that leaves his mouth. Anyone familiar with him would know that for him to start talking by monosyllables like Ghost, something must be very wrong.
Pivoting again, he faces the private and, as the latter opens his mouth to plead for forgiveness, punches him right in the face. Blood gushes, drops of it landing on his face. You mentally count until three, one for every blow, and when Soap still doesn’t stop punching, you frown, disturbed and worried by his conduct. He’s never been one to remain impassive in the face of injustice, easily riled-up even in critical situations and despite his superiors’ orders, but you’ve never seen him go this far.
You’re about to intervene when Ghost beats you to it, putting a hand on his sergeant’s shoulder. That’s right. Ghost, the voice of reason, the paragon of self-control, their cold-hearted leader, will fix everything.
However when you hear the next words that leave his mouth, it’s like the world tilted on its axis.
“Not out in the open, Johnny.”
The words are whispered low enough that only Soap and you would have heard. They send a cold shiver down your spine. Rattled and unsettled in a way that they never made you feel before, you contemplate the situation in silent incredulity.
“Aye, L.T.”, replies Soap with an abnormally monotonous tone.
Before you can ask what the fuck is happening, he proceeds to punch the soldier so hard in the stomach that the latter collapses without a sound, except for the muffled noise of someone winded. The scene makes you increasingly uncomfortable. You feel like Bluebeard's newest wife, having stumbled upon the one room you were forbidden from entering, having witnessed something you weren't supposed to see, and now you can never go back to how things were before.
You counted on Soap and Ghost’s intervention, sure, but you expected them to put an end to the fight, maybe intimidate the guy a little, and ultimately end things here. You didn’t expect… whatever this is.
Staring in shock at the two Special Forces, you shake your head to get a grip and come closer.
“Alright guys, I think he’s had enough-”
Ghost interrupts you with a hand on your shoulder. The Ghost touching two people in less than five minutes? Yes, something’s seriously wrong. Looking at him, you try to convey urgency with your gaze…
“Simon, this isn’t-”
…but his next words make you lose hope of winning this argument.
“Easy there, love. Johnny’s takin’ care of it, ya don’t need to worry ‘bout a thing.”
The next thing you know, he presses a hand against your lower back, making you leave the premises, completely ignoring the way you stare at him in utter disbelief… and growing apprehension.
He had never called you “love” before.
466 notes
·
View notes