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sawwyouuinadream · 3 years

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FIFTH HARMONY EXPOSED

Isn’t this the type of headline that intrigues people? Well, here I will expose some myths that the so-called Exposing accounts go on exposing. Just declaring something here in the beginning: I love all my Fifth Harmony girls, OT5 that is, and read it at your discretion. The thoughts stated below are opinions of mine, gathered over months and years, and I firmly stand by them.

Cutting to the chase, here we go:

1) Fifth Harmony the Band Image:

This group was manufactured by Simon Cowell on the X-Factor, back in 2012, and it broke up in 2018. On the show, Lauren Jauregui, the green-eyed white Latina was given the majority of solos and they performed songs in Spanish and garnered Hispanic fans banking on the fact that there were three Latinas in the group.

After they signed to Syco/Epic when the show ended, we saw Camila Cabello, the more convincing Latina, who was born in Cuba, get more and more solos. Normani Kordei was promoted as the “dancer” of the group, Ally Brooke as the “unproblematic one”, Lauren as the “broody edgy girl” and Dinah Jane as the “relatable Polynesian”.

Not surprisingly, Camila was the first one to do a solo venture with Shawn Mendes, the song I Know What You Did Last Summer, which, according to me, was a song to test the waters for both Shawn and Camila.

As more time passes, Camila was portrayed like the lead, not by HERSELF, but the trademark that Fifth Harmony was. She stopped talking in interviews, started doing more and more solo stuff, and even signed to a different manager. Voila, we were getting the rift in-band vibes galore.

Now here’s my verdict:

Fifth Harmony was made by Simon to not get the next One Direction, but to get the next Taylor Swift. Little Mix was already there in the U.K, and people know Girl groups don’t do as well as Boy Bands, mostly because of the inherent Misogyny in the society.

They wanted the next relatable girl next door who could influence teenage girls. Camila being Latina, could now have an even larger fanbase, in Latin America as well as South Asia, because South Asian music is quite similar in a groove to Latin Music.

Why Not Lauren or Ally then? Well, they were simply not interesting or Latin enough.

Why Not Normani? Do I have to tell? Those bitches are racist as fuck.

Why Not Dinah? Same thing. Less Appeal to a large fanbase.

That’s why Camila was the goofy dorky most relatable person on 5H. That’s why she readily had a high budget tour all set up for her the moment she left the group. That’s why they promoted her. 5H was never the long-lasting plan. Camila was. 5H was just an excuse to get her a strong fanbase and give Epic 4 more mediocre artists. I am really happy that Normani proved her worthiness and released smash hits as well. And mind you, this was done without Camila herself wishing for it. It was just the label’s decision.

2) Camila- the beauty or the bitch?

Camila Cabello is a very intriguing person to me. At the first glance, you haven’t seen a more dorky, goofy, and relatable celebrity like her, eating bananas and tripping on air. But then she starts talking about profound and deep experiences, and you go on her Tumblr and find quotes from books and aesthetic pictures. But then you see her leaked text messages and old Tumblr and all those images crumble before your eyes.

Think about this. Among the 5H girls, Dinah, Lauren, Ally, and Normani have friends outside the industry whom they talk to and hang out with. They have family they post about. Camila? She seems to have no friends apart from Sandra and Marielle Guzman, and those are the people we got the leaked texts with. What about her school teachers and school friends? Nothing. All she hangs out with is Shawn Mendes and Taylor Swift and her mom who follows her like a hawk. She doesn’t seem to have a social life at all except for events she goes for business.

In my opinion, Camila has a pretty big secret that is guarded closely by everybody but her.

Is she racist? Yes. She was. She didn’t have any sensitivity to Black people or their struggles whatsoever. But you have to understand she is Hispanic, and not born in the U.S. And she has sort of always been a big mouth. I am from a country that doesn’t have a single black person in the near 30000 miles. We grow up using racial slurs as if it's nothing. I had to unlearn my indoctrinations and consciously undo the wrongs in my head and implement them in my actions. Bit it doesn’t undo things I said as a child. I bullied one friend of mine in middle school simply because her skin tone was darker than mine. But I was not canceled. Because I am not a celebrity. Have I learned? Yes definitely. I will never dare to act like that again because now I understand the pain of being ostracized and I recognize the struggles of black people. But that happened over time.

I feel like Camila is a changed person now, and tries very hard to educate herself. She is not perfect, but she doesn’t deserve so much hate. She deserves a second chance. If she was indeed like that, Normani wouldn’t post a photo with her in IT on the eighth anniversary of 5H.

As far as her being a jealous bitch goes. The rest of 5H always had good things to talk about her after 5H dissolved in 2018. Lauren, the activist, even praised her. Dinah still seems pretty close to her.

Did she do solo stuff without 5H knowing?

No. If she did, and the whole not attending meetings thing happened, Dinah wouldn’t go to her Bad Things concert one day before she left the band. Lauren wouldn’t laugh with her in the VMAs like that if they weren’t friends and just work colleagues. The whole 5H vs Camila feud was planned by management because apparently shade helps sales. For both parties. Another manipulative misogynistic example of society.

3) Are/ Were Camila and Lauren romantically together?

All the roads lead to Rome honey. Camren has too many coincidences to NOT be real. From song lyrics to shady potato photos to weird comments and body language in interviews, I am pretty sure the Camren blogs will keep you covered.

Why does Lauren hate it so much? Why are we being invasive?

Lauren is supposed to nix it every time because she is contractually bound to do so. She needs to be the one to keep Camila’s straight image intact, although we have more than tons of evidence that Camila is anything but straight.

To everyone who says we shouldn’t force sexuality on people. Heterosexuality is not the default. Don’t force straightness on her. She never said she was straight. We’re just speculating she is with Lauren, and that’s it. Lauren just happens to be a girl. That’s IT.

Why did the nosy shippers out Lauren?

Nobody did. They just speculated on her sexuality based on assumptions. But no fan posted photos of her and Lucy from her aunt’s Facebook, because it was password protected. It was most probably intentional. Note that she shot a coming-out photoshoot with her “ex-girlfriend” Lucy Vives even before the Wedding where she was supposedly outed. Why shoot a photoshoot TO COME OUT and then hide behind the closet? Her coming out was planned as early as 2015, and so was the bearding of Camila simultaneously.

To me, Lauren and Camila are contracts bound to lie, at this moment. But they have a very grown-up and well-communicated relationship that is very sacred and private, and only the two of them know everything about it. Lauren and Camila are still related to the same contract, and this intuition of mine was confirmed yesterday. She was shooting something for Roger gold’s label. I hope the best for both of them, and I would love it if they were together. But them going public would be huge and in my opinion, detrimental to them.

4) Who’s Shawn Mendes?

A really career-oriented artist. Shawmila is for him and his promotion only. Not his fault though. He is just a conceited boy with good guitar skills who wants to be extremely famous. I will not talk about his sexuality, because unlike Camila, I can’t trace him to anyone in particular. But I can say this, Camila’s solo career had plans for Shawmila since the very start. I also believe it will end like Jelena and be back and forth for some time for minor promotions.

Final Verdict:

Nobody is perfect. Don’t make this about Shawmila Vs Camren. Every artist has their struggles. But please break out of the shell of heteronormativity, misogyny, and racism. Love human beings. The 5H girls and Shawn Mendes are teenagers, now adults, who have been oppressed and manipulated by a capitalistic racist homophobic industry, for money and money only. And only the fans have the power to see the truth and choose the right stuff.

#fifth harmony #camila cabello #camila and lauren #camren #ot5 #shawmila #syco #lauren jauregui

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talks-refined · 4 years

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Why azula, in my opinion, shouldn’t have had a redemption arc

i know it’s a complicated subject in this fandom but i wanted to give my two cents on it! i promise this isn’t me just going “booh evil”

okay so here’s the thing. the reason this is so complicated to answer is because it needs to ask pretty existential and complex questions like, can everyone be redeemed? how is evil made? how much of you is really only your upbringing? is it possible to be inherently bad? what do we fundamentally deserve? can you separate yourself completely from what you’ve been since birth and if so, what’s left?

now if you walked up to me and asked those questions, my answer would probably be something along the lines of “i don’t know, i just got here”. so that’s not what i’m gonna try to answer here

notice how i said “shouldn’t have had” and not “deserved”. i can’t tell you what azula “deserved”— probably a nicer childhood and therapy— but i can also say azula didn’t “deserve” anything. she’s a character, she’s words on paper, animation and voiced acting. there isn’t a real azula, an actual 14 years old child soldier out there awaiting to turn good. characters are story arcs, development, goals... what makes their value isn’t morals but what they bring to the story. and azula brings so much that, in my opinion, being ultimately redeemed would cheapen

first off: zuko. i’ve seen people say azula shouldn’t get a redemption arc because then her story would just be the same as zuko. it’s... not true, obviously, they’re different characters for a reason, but there is a part of truth i wanna point out here:

zuko and azula’s stories are diametrical opposites. two siblings, a boy and a girl, a firebending prodigy and one who’s average at the very best, one favored by his mother, the other favored by her father, one impulsive and one calculating. At the beginning of the story, one angry and unstable, the other calm and confident, one banished, desperate and without honor, and the other a princess and leader, acclaimed by all, who radiates regal energy.

“(ozai) said she was born lucky. he said i was lucky to be born. i don’t need luck, though. i don’t want it. i’ve always had to struggle and fight and that’s made me strong. that’s made me who i am.”

( zuko, to aang, season 1 finale )

that first sentence was the hook that told the viewers azula would come in the picture in season 2 and it tells you exactly the opposite dynamics their characters would develop on. azula is perfect, zuko is a failure is the message we’re supposed to get, at least that’s how they view each other and themselves, because that’s what their father taught them. but here’s the thing: luck is by definition elusive, and perfection is by definition unattainable. azula spends her life building herself around the vision that failure is inexcusable. because she’s at such a high place, because she’s so perfect, she can never fail, because she can’t and because she’s not allowed to. that mentality is bound to doom her, it’s inevitable. it’s a direct opposition to zuko, who builds himself in the fact that he’s failed so many times, that he made so many mistakes, that each taught him lessons. when zuko fails once, he knows he can get up because he was miserable for so long that it taught him he can survive anything. when azula fails once, she crumbles. azula is a cautionary tale of perfectionism, and cautionary tales can’t have happy endings. zuko’s approach of life has to reach a happy ending, because he’ll always look for one, it has to reach a redemption arc because he’s not scared of the mistakes he’s made in the past and he is always trying to better himself (the redemption comes when he realises he was trying to meet the wrong standards). azula’s approach of life guarantees a downfall because she’s convinced that failure is the end.

both their stories mirror each other, backwards. when we meet zuko, he’s failing, always, and when we leave him, he finally won. when we meet azula she’s winning, always, and when we leave her, she finally (by which i mean that it’s inevitable, not that it’s good) fails.

and there’s another reason (let’s pretend this is structured, okay?), that’s a little more complicated, and it has to do with ozai.

you know how ozai is barely present in the series? i’ve seen some people argue that azula is a better villain because she’s scarier or because we see her more. here’s the thing:

when you’re trying to portray something that’s really, really awful, it’s easier not show it. when you show something, in it’s entirety (in that context that would mean making ozai a deep, 3 dimensional character that we see develop) it’s... small. to define is to limit (- oscar wilde). when you only show small things tho, details, in movies it can be shadows, think the beginning of stranger things when you don’t see monsters, but can feel a threat, that’s when it can get scary as shit. because whatever limited, physical (or character-ial? is that a word) form you chose for the villain isn’t there in people’s minds, it’s only their own imagination trying to comprehend what you made them feel. and what people imagine based on only fear, or anger, is easily scarier than any five headed monster you can put onscreen.

that’s what ozai is: a looming threat. hell, i’m not even sure we see his face until season 3. he only has a handful of scenes. but i hate him. i hate him so much i could scream into a pillow and he’s so vicious it sends shivers down my spine. you know why? because of what he did to zuko and azula.

when you wanna keep your main villain mysterious, it’s good to give the audience characters that he’s interacted with. characters that he’s close to enough to have had an effect on them, so they can perceive a part of him. and boy did he have an effect on his children

( to be fair here: that idea and most of what i’m saying about it came from Overly Sarcastic Productions video on minions as a trope. it’s really good i love their whole channel, red is amazing)

season 1: meet zuko. he’s a sixteen years old. he’s a bad guy, but written so that you sympathise with him to a certain extent. then comes the Tragic Backstory Episode and you learn that he was challenged to a duel as a thirteen years old by his father after he spoke without permission in a meeting, begged for mercy, got half of his face burned off at the hands of his father, and was banished from his home to search for the avatar, who was dead as far as anyone knew.

now you’ve seen very little of ozai after this episode, but you’re ready to fight that guy, right? i know i am.

it gains a level of depth with azula. after being introduced to a character who is starving for his father’s love and approval, we’re introduced to a new character, who seemingly has all of that. azula is zuko’s ever winning rival. she has everything he wants, her honor, her title, her father’s favors.

(i think it’s worth noting that making your children compete for your love is already a red flag for noticing pieces of shit)

but it’s not enough. azula has everything, she is everything ozai values (cunning, strong, ruthless) and even then it’s not enough to please him. nothing will ever be good enough. and you see two children fighting, breaking themselves to please a father that is seemingly incapable of love, but keeps baiting them, giving them impossible standards to reach so they’ll always keep trying to please him.

okay, now you hate him, right?

but here’s the thing: because azula was a firebending prodigy, she got a taste of her father’s approval. he saw himself in her, where he saw too much of iroh and ursa in zuko. he was proud of her.

he was never proud of zuko. too soft, not strong, or fearless enough. because of that, zuko was never close to his dad. all he got was disdain. because of that, he forms bonds with other people (with his mother and uncle, at first) that expose him to another vision of life. and in exile, after chasing relentlessly, part of him is pushed to the realisation that he can live without his father’s approval. because he had to.

azula on the other hand, quickly becomes all ozai’s. from flashbacks you can clearly tell each of them gravitates around one parent, zuko around ursa and azula around ozai. even in her other relationships (zuko, tylee, mai...) she behaves according to what her father taught her, how to manipulate and hurt others

and ursa has flaws, god i’m not saying she doesn’t. that deserves a post in itself. but she values things like kindness, softness and love. ozai values strength, power and cunning. childhood is a formative stage: you often build yourself on the way you were raised. zuko had those conflicting values, because ursa, and ozai more indirectly, both taught him. but ozai isolated azula from other (adult) presences. this is more speculation but i really think it’s true, for what it’s worth. we rarely ever see ursa and azula interact, and when we do ursa is i think always? reprimanding azula for something that ozai taught her. it doesn’t seem like they spend enough time together for her to teach her daughter a better way.

that’s the thing. ozai’s “love”, or at least approval, was azula’s curse. zuko thinks it’s something he has to aim for, and later realizes it’s only ever going to be conditional and manipulative and stops trying. because he knew another way. but azula always lived with it. it isolated her, prevented her from ever finding a better way. his “love” is what did this to her

so yeah. none of this is saying that azula could never have been good. she was 14, she had a whole life ahead, i’m not some psychology master that can tell you exactly if it’s even possible to unlearn so much manipulation and abuse- i want to believe it is. but this is a story, and to me it’s the more nuanced, more interesting, better story they could’ve written. i think having those two very different and very paralleled stories, for a show that doesn’t shy away from complexity the way atla does, was very important.

while i was writing this, i showed it to a friend, who can speak for toxic households better than i can, and gave me a new perspective and the best conclusion: when in an abusive parental relationship, there’s always a tearing hesitation between ‘breaking free’ and doing what’s best for you, and staying loyal to your parent, someone you’re supposed to love and who’s supposed to love you. zuko is a message of hope ; azula is a warning

#azula #princess azula #atla #Avatar The Last Airbender #azula redemption arc #please be nice

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wait-atla-isnt-just-zukka · 4 years

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Here’s my take on Azula (redemption arc vs no redemption arc, relationship with the others etc), since she’s one of my favorite characters (and I love to hear myself talk):

Ok, first and foremost, Azula deserves the chance to grow. She was a fourteen year old who had been abused and manipulated her whole life. She was not an adult; she had not been exposed to anything else. This was all she knew.

However, it would take Azula years to unlearn everything her father taught her, and I definitely think it would be more difficult for her than for Zuko

Zuko was constantly belittled, told he was worthless and lucky to be born while Azula was constantly being praised, told she is a prodigy and was born lucky.

I think it is much harder to dismantle beliefs that conflate your worth than dismantle ones that belittle you.

Also, there was no way Azula was going to get a redemption arc in canon like Zuko. The circumstances were too different.

First of all, Ozai physically hurt Zuko. We know Zuko thinks this was unfair and cruel, so once he started questioning his father’s beliefs, I think this first-hand experience of his father’s cruelty reassured Zuko that what his father taught him was wrong.

Azula didn’t have that. Ozai never physically hurt Azula, never targeted her; she was his favorite. So, when given a reason to doubt her father, she didn’t have this first-hand account of her father’s cruelty to fall back on like Zuko did. Sure, she saw Ozai hurt Zuko and on some level feared if she failed, he would hurt her too. But I don’t think this fear was really conscious. After all, his reasons for hurting Zuko made sense, and he was constantly telling her she was a prodigy, so why would he hurt her if she was his favorite and did everything right? It was harder for her to believe her father was bad because he had never treated her badly (he’d never physically hurt her). So, because of his praise and favoritism, Azula was less likely to doubt him. Instead, his twisted beliefs empowered and validated her.

Also, Zuko had Iroh. He had another father figure to show him an alternative to Ozai’s way of thinking. Azula didn’t.

Granted, Azula was way to entrenched in Ozai’s grasp and was actively trying to hurt Zuko and Iroh in canon. So, Iroh never could have helped her like he helped Zuko, who was estranged, lost, and already doubting his father.

Azula’s entire identity is intertwined with her validation from Ozai. I don’t think she was ever able to conceptualize a version of herself that was outside his influence.

But, post-canon, Ozai is gone, this image is shattered, which gives her an opportunity she never had in canon to discover who she is outside of this image he created of her.

Also, losing to Zuko in the agni kai shatters the other part of her identity, that she’s better than Zuko, which again, gives her the opportunity to figure out who she is without that.

So, I think post-canon Azula has an opportunity for growth that canon Azula never had.

Do I think this opportunity means that everything will be resolved quickly and tactically, letting everyone forget their past troubles and be friends? No.

Again, I think it would take years for Azula to unpack all of her trauma and dismantle the things she learned from Ozai, and I’m honestly not sure that she would be able to be friends with the others even after that. She caused them a lot of trauma and that doesn’t just go away.

So, while I’m hopeful that they could all be friends, the more likely resolution to me is that as Azula grows into her own, healthy person, she realizes what she did wrong and how she hurt the others, and she apologizes for it.

Maybe Zuko, Aang, or Iroh visits her and gives her support once she starts going to therapy. Maybe as part of the healing process she confronts the pain she caused others like Mai, Ty Lee, and Zuko, and they are able to move forward from that. Or maybe not, maybe it’s too painful for them.

In the end, though, I don’t think her growth and redemption could completely heal the scars of the past. So, I think she probably moves away and starts a new life once she’s finally free from Ozai. Maybe she keeps in touch with the others, maybe she does’t, but at last she can find peace and true happiness :)

#atla #avatar #avatar the last airbender #azula #ozai #fuck ozai #zuko #iroh #mai #ty lee #aang #longpost

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cosplayswitzerlandaskblog · 4 years

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Unlike last time Hetalia got a new season, the response has not been particularly positive, and I’m seeing a lot of twisted feelings towards the show and the fandom to a point where it seems long time content creators are stepping away from it. I know anyone still active who follows me either are or were fans of Hetalia, so it should be relevant for all y’all.

As a fan who never fell out of the show, I find the response sad though healthy, and even if I know I ghosted you all on tumblr (sorry) because of time constraints and mental health, I still make the occasional CMVs. Fact is, I do not let go of special interests very easily. It seems a lot of you all started watching the show at 10-14 years old, where I myself was a bit older – 17 – and had grown a bit more. Long story short, my Naruto phase was your Hetalia phase, and no, it’s not pretty. You’re young and stupid and don’t know much critical thinking and make mistakes, and you have to forgive yourself for those mistakes, especially when the content you consume is associated with the real world in a sensitive subject.

But after seeing all these posts explaining all the bad we see from Hetalia, I wanted to make a post explaining what I learned from it – all the good that can come with a show like this if you stay aware of perspective. I am not excusing all the bad that came with it, for WWII is a serious event in history that should never be forgotten nor made fun of, but here goes:

I went from a ‘war-is-cool’ history buff to one who truly delved in and learned the intricacies of history, being fascinated with the ‘hows’ and the ‘whys’ as well as getting an excuse to look at the histories of nations which I’d never otherwise be interested in, and I know a lot of other people in the fandom did the same. This is how history should be known, as that is how we can truly apply it to the real world.

I learned to separate people from their countries. To give an example that’ll hit close to much of tumblr, when I started Hetalia I hated Americans with a passion because of the road “you” had put the world on, and I considered all y’all dumb and bad as a cause of it. Getting that excuse to take an ACTUAL look at how your nation functioned and what communities truly hid behind the borders, I learned instead that your government is corrupt as shit, your society is rigged against you and you have been forced to stand by and watch as chaos happens. It got applied to the world as a whole, where I considered other nations being as dynamic as my own, with people both good and bad, and the actions of the nation is even less of a reflection of the people in the cases of corrupt democracies or dictatorships.

I separated from Colonial world views. I was never actively racist, brought up in a proper home, and already before Hetalia I fiercely protected the rights of Muslims who are often mistreated in my nation and tried to hear them out when possible. But I was a Westerner, and even if the nation I came from had barely participated in invasions, I had learned to consider my culture ‘correct’ and native and African cultures ‘primitive’. While the journey was long, a step wise process of realizing things like there was nothing inherently ethically wrong eating dogs or partially incubated duck eggs, only in how the animals were acquired, that cultural progress is heavily dependent on perspective and that fucking genocide of native peoples still happen in this damn century, Hetalia was the stepping stone which gave me the interest in other nations to expand my world view. I probably ain’t done here – I have a whole life of outside influences to unlearn – but I’m further than most people I know in my near surroundings, and I’ve even managed to move my parents who originally taught me to respect people of all kinds in the first place.

I learned Nazis were people. This is a conversation which often comes up here on tumblr, and the demonization Nazi Germany and its government directly allows actual Nazis and fascists like Richard Spencer a free pass because they look groomed and proper. Until then, I’d simply assumed no one was ‘stupid enough to be a Nazi’ because of the atrocities of WWII and therefore looked at the world naively. Realizing how little true support Nazis had during WWII and similarly anyone could end down that pungent rabbit hole, I became careful of what I excused on social media and allowed myself to doubt seemingly normal people if their behaviour was alarming – such as the police man who is supposed to be a damn ‘hero’ of society.

I learned how to deal with material sensitive to others. A common problem in the fandom has always been the cosplaying and portrayal of Nazis, especially at cons and the like, and in a similar vein – I did blackface once because of Hetalia. The horrible thing about this is that blackface is immensely common in Europe – at least my own country – and blackface frequently happens at schools during ‘international’ events, where whole classrooms are assigned to portray a designated country. A whole of two times – in 6th grade as well as 2nd grade of high school – I was exposed to blackface as my class was given an African nation to portray – Somalia the first time, Kenya the second. No one, adult, teen or child, are aware of the history of race imitation in my country, but by the second time I was supposed to participate in dressing up as an African tribe, I’d understood the issue – thanks to Hetalia. My friend group of white, privileged, European teens discussed what symbolism was appropriate at cons or in videos – could we wear the Iron Cross? The Nazi flag? What if we burned it during the video? These thoughts are not usually a part of the mind of European youth, and I consider that a grave problem which leads to people making fun of ‘triggers’, downplaying racial issues and the like.

It offered me a means to make history personal. The biggest struggle for good history teachers and the reason we are often made to read and write letters from the periods we study is to make it seem real and get a emotional connection to these past, lost peoples. Hetalia offered puppets for me to place into historical contexts to make them truly real – the main driver pushing me away from mere fascination of war, since I suddenly felt the horrors of warfare through the characters that I loved. Things like Elizabeth I’s court, the conquests of Rome, the dissolution of the Kalmar Union, the battlefield of Somme, the invasion of America, damn slavery becomes different when something you already know is a part of it and you can see them in there. Hearing of people of the past should in itself be enough, and for the closest parts of history (WWII and afterwards) it always was for me, but we are human. We cannot understand the size of a billion, and we struggle understanding the lives of those living centuries before us, unless we are offered context.

I’m not blind to the issues of the fandom or the show. I was here for ‘the r*pist, the pervert and the p*dophile’, I know of South Korean and Chinese issues with the show, and I heard the gassing joke in the show’s dub and got nauseous from discomfort and anger. I’ve always been in the fringe of the fandom due to my social disabilities, so I don’t know everything that happened, but I’ve seen many racist OCs and disrespecting of historical sites. It’s not pretty, but I will believe these people, who were likely young, likely learned in time. And I may have been able to learn these things by other means, but not in the same way, and not through personal interest and research that’s helped me become sceptical and analysing of the world around me.

At its core, Hetalia is about watching a normal, nerdy guy learn how to draw, using stereotypic country personifications mainly from the perspective of Japan. It’s natural he chooses Japan, since he’s Japanese, and WWII is unfortunately the automatic historical event for most common people to focus on – but Hetalia doesn’t even solely focus on that, but is an amalgamation of vaguely correct historical situations played out by the characters, and often it is with the intent of comedy rather than the grimness often associated with historical settings which allows a wider audience than merely history nerds.

What I want you all to do is learn from your mistakes and forgive your younger selves for not knowing better. Maybe reflect on what you got from the show, rather than what you lost. A new generation of young Hetalians is likely coming with the new season, and us old timers might be able to help them avoid pitfalls if we stay around to teach them. The best of the show is compassion towards the people of the world combined and love of history, as I believe Hima wanted it – the worst is Nazi apologetics and racial stereotyping. We decide in what direction we take it, and what lessons we bring into the future.

TL;DR: As a lot of media intended for older audiences, Hetalia is a show which has to be watched critically, which makes it dangerous for young people to watch unhinged, but it also opens up for interest in the world beyond the borders you live within. We should be aware of the issues and learn from them, but in and of itself the show has a lot of good to offer in learning compassion for other nations and cultural groups.

#impressive how active I've become these last weeks #I kinda feel embarrassed #but Hetalia is coming back #and a lot of people are feeling dread because of it #my own feelings are mixed #but Hetalia is was gave me friends and started expanding my world view #other people might get a similar benefit from it #and I want them to have the chance #I'd love to hear the opinions of others tho #also #welcome to my usual iconic long posts

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fernsandsunflowers · 4 years

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Your knowledge of Harry Potter is like a rotten apple with worms in it!

Expressive! thanks for voicing your opinion.

I really hope this is in regard to the Snape post (x) I made years and years ago and has resurfaced recently and not JKR is a terf and can fuck off this planet please and thank you posts I’ve reblogged.

If it’s about Snape, I’ve seen most of the comments, I haven’t taken the time to read it all but general opinion seems to be two-sided there are those who agree whole-heartedly with my post, and those who do not. Most in the do not agree category has pointed out that heroism is not a competition. This is absolutely right, the story itself should have taught me that long ago, like when little Neville stood up to the trio in book 1. I apologize, sincerely, for comparing their acts of bravery. They both did amazing things and I hope, if it ever comes down to it, god forbid, I find in myself the same strength and bravery. The post itself was poorly worded. My goal was to ask that we show the same love and respect to Lupin as we do for Snape. That clearly didn’t come across, instead I got carried away and had written a post that ended up elevating Lupin’s acts of bravery while putting down Snape’s. Regardless of their background they both did heroic things and in the end gave their lives to save others. These acts of bravery deserve to be honoured and respected.

However, I stand by my statement that Lupin is the better man. I have seen a lot of comments that admit to Snape’s wrongs but use the excuse of unprocessed childhood trauma and mental illness. I will not accept this ‘white man’ excuse. I will admit, again, here that Sirius, James and Remus were wrong to have bullied Snape. Sirius, in fact, was still a bit of a dick after he returned from Azkaban. But why can we excuse Snape’s faults as the product of childhood and later life trauma but not Sirius’? Why do you continue to condemn Sirius for his bullying while at Hogwarts but make up excuses for Snape’s reprehensible behaviour towards his students?

Yes there were no systems in place for Snape to process his trauma (he did have one positive influence, Lily, but this was clearly not enough), that is a grievous institutional error. This exists in our world and is something that needs to be rectified immediately, in every country. There were no systems in place for Harry, Neville, Remus, Sirius and Regulus to process theirs either. In Regulus’ case he didn’t have the benefit of a positive environment too. But your argument is that everyone processes differently. My argument is that, Snape’s trauma doesn’t negate his negative actions in the same way that Voldemort’s trauma doesn’t negate his. If you are excusing Snape for being complicit in the murder of so many muggles and muggleborns because he was abused as a child and grew up in poverty, then you must also excuse Voldemort for murdering people based on his trauma from growing up in a shit-hole orphanage, in poverty and being hated and rejected by his father. I genuinely don’t know if Snape has killed anyone before Dumbledore, I vaguely remember a scene in the Prince’s Tale chapter where Dumbledore says something along the lines, you must have done it before? and Snape implying that he has not. I don’t have my book with me or I would check. It does not matter, aiding and abetting is still a crime. Why do we say ACAB? Complicit is still guilty.

I have no patience or place in my heart for anyone that chooses to join the side of racists and fascists, knowing full well what it meant. That’s what he did. You cannot deny that Snape was extremely capable of critical thought and was intelligent enough to see plainly what Voldemort rising to power meant to his supposed love. Or to thousands of innocent people. But he joined anyway, for power. Do you think I will be forgiven by my friends, or even you all, if I actively supported Trump, or ISIS, or an example from my own country (Sri Lanka), the extremist ‘Buddhist’ organisation called BBS that stands against Tamil and Muslim people (I put Buddhist in quotation marks as people who believe these ideologies are no longer Buddhist), or even my own father in his anti-muslim stance? He had Lily, who he loved, yet still joined an organisation that was murdering her people and posed a fatal threat to her as well. I do not have patience for that and I will not be shamed for it. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for willingly joining the wizard equivalent of Nazi’s and Neo-Nazi’s then fine, that’s your prerogative. I have chosen to forgive James, Sirius and Remus for bullying Snape when they were kids. That’s my prerogative. If you’ve chosen to forgive Snape for bullying children under his care to the point of terror and psychological trauma, because he himself had experienced trauma, I guess that’s your right as well (though I admit it infuriates me).

Also because I’m on a roll now, I will not stand to be asked to care about and include Peter Pettigrew in anything related to the Marauders. I understand that he was a part of the Marauders and I understand he was afraid for his life. Amongst the countless things I don’t have patience for, is disloyalty. The fidelius charm cannot be forced out of you, or bewitched, or tortured out. It must be shared willingly. Peter was already working for Voldemort since before he was made secret keeper. The Order knew there was a spy in their midst. Systematic racism within the wizarding world led them to believe that Remus was the Spy. Sirius was probably the first to believe it. Peter obviously felt some regret over it, but eventually divulged the information to Voldemort the first chance he got. I cannot and will not forgive that. If Peter was really a good person and was afraid for his life or for the life of his parents, or whatever, he would not have run back and actively looked for and revived Voldemort after he was ousted. He could have just left the country and hidden somewhere else where he would probably not have been recognised. He had an ounce of regret over James’ death that led to his own death, but in the theme of this post, it doesn’t negate his crimes.

To better help you understand why I am against Snape but support several others who have done wrong in their lives here’s an example. Someone who joined the Death Eaters willingly that I do forgive is Regulus Black. I believe he didn’t know any better, he grew up in a household where the only voices and opinions he heard was that of his racist af parents who applauded Voldemort. The impact of this influence is reflected in the way that Kreacher responds to muggleborns and their allies. This is an intelligent species to whom blood status of wizards should not matter. In the same way that countries colonized by Europeans that should not have anything against black communities are racist towards them. Because all they’ve heard about Black People comes from our colonizers - also, the power of representation comes up here, after gaining independence, the racist concepts that European colonization left against ourselves, other poc’s and black people were reaffirmed by the negative stereotypes presented in white media, which unfortunately is broadcast worldwide. But that’s a whole other can of worms. Kreacher is later taught, and experiences differently. He begins to show respect to Hermione and fights against Voldemort - the man his masters supported so thoroughly. I forgive Kreacher too for the part he played in Sirius’ death, here is someone who’s trauma and upbringing really does excuse their actions. He comes to understand that he made a mistake, learns and changes. Regulus wanted to make his parents proud, they supported Voldemort. Sirius, I don’t believe, helped Regulus understand any differently and rebuffed and berated him for parroting their parents views (this is never the right thing to do), thereby pushing him away.

We of course also know that Regulus had a kind and understanding nature, this shows in the way he treated Kreacher. He joined the Death Eaters when he left Hogwarts thinking he was doing the right thing. And immediately realised his parents had been wrong to support Voldemort, he tried to leave and couldn’t. In the end he actively tried to bring down Voldemort and his movement. As soon as he gained some substantial information on Voldemort he acted, giving his life to do so. Snape remained with the Death Eaters even as they killed countless muggles and muggleborns. He reported to Voldemort the prophecy he heard - if Regulus had been in Snape’s place here what do you think he would have done? reported to Voldemort? No, he would have kept it to himself, or taken the opportunity even to tell Dumbledore he would like to join their side. Snape, on the other hand, would have seen to it that Voldemort succeeded in ending this threat if it weren’t for one thing: Lily. This is NOT a redeeming quality.

Do you understand what it is I’m trying to explain? I’m not as eloquent as most of you here, so I’m sorry if I’m botching this up. Snape’s childhood should not have stopped him from seeing what Voldemort was doing. It should have been enough that he had Lily, a ‘mudblood’, to show him that Voldemort targeting muggleborn’s and muggles was wrong. Regulus had no one he loved who was a muggleborn. Neither did Kreacher. Sirius didn’t either but learned before he met Lily or any muggleborns that Voldemort’s and his parents views were wrong. So did so many others. Shit, even a lot of you must have been taught racism and unlearned it later when you were exposed to the truth. I know I had to as a child. Harry Potter played a key role in my own unlearning. Snape, knowing all this, joined Voldemort. That is why I do not support or forgive him. He continued to stay in Voldemort’s employ, rising in rank to the point of being accepted into Voldemort’s inner circle and being granted the Dark Mark. May be he was uncomfortable, but this did not stop him from following orders and committing crimes against humanity. He only stopped when the one muggleborn he thought was actually OK was being hunted by Voldemort.

Some of you have said in the comments that Snape was working against Voldemort since before the prophecy and threat on Lily. Where do you get this idea? Please tell me I genuinely want to know how you know this. Because in the Half Blood Prince, Trelawney’s drunken rant let’s Harry know that it was Snape who had heard the prophecy and told Voldemort about it. When confronted, Dumbledore tells Harry,

‘Professor Snape made a terrible mistake, he was still in Lord Voldemort’s employ on the night he heard the first half of Professor Trelawney’s prophecy, naturally, he hastened to tell his master what he had heard for it concerned his master most deeply. But he did not know, he had no possibly way of knowing which boy Voldemort would hunt from then onward or that the parents he would destroy in his murderous quest were people that Professor Snape knew. That they were your mother and father.’

- HBP, Chapter 25: the Seer Overheard.

Harry goes on to laugh at this statement referring to Snape’s hate of his father. Dumbledore responds to this with,

‘you have no idea of the remorse Professor Snape felt when he realised how Lord Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy, Harry.

It’s pretty easy to read between the lines here. Snape only turned from Voldemort’s side when he realised that Voldemort had interpreted the prophecy to mean Lily and James’ son, meaning Voldemort now posed an undeniably direct threat to Lily herself. If I can go a little further here, I believe Dumbledore’s empathy towards Snape stems from the part he himself played in helping Grindelwald’s plans for world domination and his own attempts to reconcile with his guilt over the matter. For me, this choosing to turn only when Lily was threatened does not redeem him because he either did not understand or care for the damage he was inflicting to others. If he had not been in love with Lily, he would have just let it happen and continued supporting Voldemort, how is that right? ‘It is the thought that counts’, this thought doesn’t sit right with me.

He never tried to redeem himself for joining Voldemort, only the part he played in Lily’s death. In my eyes he acted out of guilt, he was sorry for Lily’s death but not for joining a side that murdered thousands of innocent lives. He later chastised anyone who used the word Mudblood in his (private) presence but I interpret this as a reaction to the word reminding him of his and Lily’s fallout. I don’t believe it had anything to do with him actually understanding the damage behind its use. In death, he may have felt he redeemed himself, and Harry apparently felt the same. Washing his hands of Lily’s blood may have been enough for him, Dumbledore, Harry and you but it is not for me. His actions in later life did not, in my opinion, redeem him from willingly joining Voldemort and bullying children.

I apologize for comparing Lupin’s and Snape’s acts of bravery that was unreasonable. Snape’s actions certainly led to the downfall of Voldemort he acted heroically, but for me, he did not redeem himself entirely. It’s as simple as that. I respect that some of you believe he did. That’s fine. But please don’t gloss over the fact that he did work for Voldemort of his own free will, any negative influence he had that led him to believe that muggles and muggleborns deserved to be killed, dominated and enslaved (which is what Voldemort stood for) should have been countered by knowing Lily.

I love the complex character that he is, but I do not agree with his actions in early life, or the motivation behind his actions in later life. And that’s allowed so please stop breathing down my neck.

If this was about JKR being a terf, then maybe this will help: https://www.thetrevorproject.org/resources/trevor-support-center/a-guide-to-being-an-ally-to-transgender-and-nonbinary-youth/

Sorry this was meant to be short but I am physically incapable of keeping things short. This is also the last post I will ever make with regard to my feelings on Snape because well, I’ve been doing it for years and I don’t really care anymore. You do you.

#harry potter #hp #severus snape #anti snape #marauders #jily #anti snily #my post

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lia-jones · 4 years

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Growing Stronger - Chapter Six - There’s No Glory Without Tears (Victor’s POV)

“Stop rubbing your forehead.”

Andrea sighed and put her hand down, keeping her eyes on the screen of her laptop. It took her less than five minutes to absentmindedly bring her hand back to her forehead. Victor playfully swatted it away.

“Stop!” She wined. “For some strange reason I find this soothing, ok ay? Just leave me be. You can mock me later.”

“Are you upset?” Victor watched her closely.

“I’m nervous.” Andrea looked at him with uneasiness in her eyes. “I need to submit this to my teacher, it needs to be perfect. I can’t allow a single mistake.”

“I’ve watched you revise your thesis over and over again. If you can’t find a mistake, maybe it’s because there aren’t any.”

“Or maybe it’s because I can’t see them anymore!” Again, her hand flew to her forehead, but this time Victor let her. “I want to do this right, no, I NEED to do this right. This is something Daniel always said I could never do, and I know I shouldn’t care anymore, but I want to prove him wrong. Most importantly, I need to prove myself that he is wrong. If I screw this up… Then he’s right.”

Ignoring Andrea’s protests, Victor took the laptop from her lap and held her close, his hand steady on the back of her head.

“I’m sure it’s good, stop worrying. Relax.”

“And how would you know?” She retorted, trying to reach for her laptop. “Victor, stop being like that. Give me back my laptop, I don’t have much time.”

“I have a confession to make.” Andrea stopped, waiting for him to speak again. “You looked so worried last week that I had to take a look. To see if you needed any help.”

“You read it?” The panic made her rub her forehead even more furiously. “Oh God, how bad is it?”

“I know I went against your wishes, but maybe it was for the best. Once I started reading it, I couldn’t put it down. It’s thought-provoking, beautifully written, I couldn’t find a single mistake. And you know how demanding I can be. It’s perfect.” Victor finally took Andrea’s nervous hand, leaning his forehead on hers instead. “You’ve done well. I’m proud of you.”

Proud didn’t even begin to describe how he felt about her. Victor was exhilarated. She had done a magnificent job.

By the end of the gala everybody was trying to reach Andrea and the Dean, taking out their checkbooks to ensure their support. Companies were interested in working with her. Seasoned entrepreneurs wanted to talk to her, anxious to know her opinion about the most varied subjects.

He watched it all from his spot at the open bar, a glass of brandy in his hand, like it was his private show. No one could see from his expression, but his heart was singing. She had done it. Brilliantly. Lexi interrupted his thoughts, sitting next to him.

“Remind me to never cross you.” She joked. “You are a mastermind. It worked. They are all talking about the study, instead of gossiping about you two.”

Victor hid his smile as he brought the glass to his lips.

“Did you hear her speech? She got them hooked right from the first sentence.” He spoke, not able to hide all his enthusiasm.

“If you think Victor’s speech was boring, wait until you hear mine.” Andrea began her presentation like she owned that stage, and the entire room laughed, including himself. She was witty, dauntless. He felt his heart swell with pride again.

“You still love her, don’t you?” Lexi asked again.

“Don’t mistake my gratitude for an easy pass to discuss my private life.” Victor warned.

“But you do.” Lexie dared to say again. “You closed that door the moment you entered this room with me. You know that, right?”

That door was already closed. Andrea was already moving on with her life, filling it with joy, friends and laughter. He had seen her that other day, running with Levi. He knew that guy wouldn’t waste his time, he would try to win her. Yet, no matter how much that memory of Andrea and Levi talking and laughing made his heart pang, he felt she deserved the happiness. After all, Victor had had his chance before… Only to fail miserably.

Not that it mattered anyway, Victor concluded, that night wasn’t about him and Andrea. It was solely about him doing right by her, by helping her in any way he could. She had paid a hefty price for being with him, having her life exposed, her job in jeopardy, being insulted by his father, and he couldn’t bear that. She would not see her effort go to waste because of him. That, Victor wouldn’t tolerate. The moment he saw that magazine article, he had vowed that he wouldn’t let any of that hurt her, even if it was at his own expense. Later that day, while she cried in his arms, his determination only grew stronger.

“Do you want to leave?” Lexi asked. “I have a photoshoot, I should get some sleep. I need to look my best tomorrow.”

“Sure.” Victor said, his eyes on Andrea, letting his heart beat faster one last time. “My work here is done.”

As Victor prepared to leave, finishing his brandy in one big gulp, he heard his name in a male voice with a thick French accent.

“Victor! Trop ocupé pour parler à votre ancien professeur? (Too busy to speak to your old teacher?)” It was Guy. Victor knew he would be there, along with Xavier and Mr. Mills, but for some reason he missed them completely.

“Mais non! (Of course not!)” Victor smiled, giving Guy a friendly hug. “Comment ça va? (How are you?)”

“Ça va, mais nous parlerons plus tard. Allez, portons un toast! L'équipe de rêve! (Yes, but we’ll talk later! Come, let’s make a toast. The dream team!)” Guy tried to drag Victor with him.

“I was about to leave, actually. Drink on my behalf!” Victor excused himself, turning to Lexi again. But Lexi stopped him.

“Go ahead, go be with your friends. I’ll get an Uber.”

“No, we need to leave together.” Victor hushed. “They need to see us leave together.”

“Nonsense.” Lexi grabbed Victor by his neck, pecking the corner of his mouth. “This is all they need to see. Go have fun. You’ll thank me later.” She smiled at him.

Guy was behind them, scratching his head.

“My cooking lessons make you so famous with the women? Toujours avec des belles femmes? (Always with beautiful women?)” Victor shook his head, feeling his face burn a little. “Venez, idiot chanceux! (Come, you lucky idiot!)”

Guy led Victor to one of the tables. Mr. Mills was already there, having his usual cup of tea. Xavier was nowhere to be found. Victor greeted Mr. Mills with enthusiasm. It was good to see his old friend again.

“Boss!” Mr. Mills shook his hand with a wide smile. “I saw you came accompanied by a beautiful woman… Just not the woman I was expecting.”

“Xavier is not here.” He simply stated as he sat down, changing the subject.

“No, he went to find the woman of the moment.” Mr. Mills smiled. “She was very charming tonight, wasn’t she?”

Victor spotted both Xavier and Andrea coming to the table. Xavier’s hand on her waist, pushing her forward, while she tried to excuse herself out of the ordeal. Evidently, knowing Victor would be there as well, she would have no interest in coming. The thought made Victor fidget in his chair. He should’ve just driven Lexi home and call it a night.

Xavier arrived shortly with a very uncomfortable Andrea, opening his arms dramatically.

“Messieurs! I give you… Dr. Andrea Jones!”

Xavier motioned for all of them to clap. Andrea’s cheeks blushed even more.

“Ok, ok, enough!” Andrea said playfully. “If you guys are going to keep up with this nonsense, at least let me have some wine first!”

“Mais bien sur, belle Andrea! (But of course, beautiful Andrea!) French wine!” Xavier filled Andrea’s glass first, filling the others afterward. He raised his glass. “We need to make a toast! To our beautiful Andrea!”

“Wait, wait!” Andrea interrupted them. “I am grateful for the consideration, but I need to say something first. Everything that happened here today is not only a result of my hard work, but of yours as well. Thank you.” Her voice was hoarse with emotion, and Victor recognized the different shine in her eyes, indicating she was about to cry. “If not for you, for your stoic patience with the rookie here, if not for Victor…” She turned to him briefly, and a tear escaped her eyes. “Thank you for your incredible support, for a job well done, and for your friendship. This toast is for all of us!”

Victor felt his eyes prickle slightly as he raised his glass. It felt like the end of an era, old friends saying goodbye, maybe forever. He remembered those days in Paris, visiting Guy’s restaurant and Mr. Mills orchard, watching her so eager to learn and to see the results of her ideas, even though he hadn’t summoned her to work at all. He just wanted to be with her, he wanted to have a chance to tell her how he felt. He remembered how beautiful she looked, the soft moonlight gently touching her features as she admired the view at the restaurant. Victor recalled their kiss by the Eiffel Tower, the warmth of her skin and the softness of her lips, what he had told her after.

“Dummy. Not everyone wears their heart on their sleeve like you do.”

It was funny, Victor had always considered that a weakness. He always believed that one must be guarded at all times, not letting any actual or potential opponent look into one’s soul, never revealing one’s position, never showing one’s hand. At first, he found it naïve of her to be so open to the world, idiotic even, considering all she had been through. A lesson that clearly remained unlearned.

As he got to know Andrea, as he observed her, it was clear to him that wasn’t the case. Andrea was an open book, not because she didn’t know better, but because she understood there is strength in owning one’s feelings. She had this incredible drive, this amazing strength and determination that made it possible for her to be who she was. She didn’t hide because she didn’t feel the need to. She was truly one to respect and admire.

They drank, bantering like old friends, giving Andrea the news of how their businesses were going. Andrea talked about her new job, how she loved to teach, and how much fun she was having doing her research. Victor drank it all like a fine wine. All of her smiles, all of her funny expressions, chuckled at each one of her jokes. Without anyone noticing, he took in every single aspect of her, giving his heart the consolation it needed, another moment with her. He had missed her badly. He would admit that. Even if just to himself.

After a while, it was time to go home. The goodbye seemed to leave a bittersweet taste in everyone’s mouths, including his. Things would never be the same again. Andrea had grown immensely and moved on. They all needed to do the same as well. He needed to do the same.

After a brief conversation with the Dean, Victor opted to leave through the back to avoid any paparazzi. As he went outside for the valet to bring his car, he spotted Andrea.

“Hiding from the paparazzi?” He asked, as he stood next to her. She sighed.

“Yeah, I had enough of that for a whole year.” She let her head fall slightly backward, like she usually did when she needed to unwind. “Where’s your date?”

Victor didn’t want to answer that question. Time was too fleeting to discuss such idle matters.

“You did very well today. Everyone was impressed with your presentation.” He gave her a soft smile of encouragement.

“It went really well.” She beamed at him. “Olive says the checks practically flew to her desk.”

There was a moment of silence, the only thing audible was Victor’s and Andrea’s deep breaths.

“I have to thank you, Victor. I have to thank you for all this.” Her voice was hoarse again, her eyes shiny. “You have been a great friend, always supporting me in every way. You are a good man with a good heart.”

Victor felt his eyes prickle again. Hopefully the darkness would conceal it. Afraid his voice would betray him, he silently gave her upper arm a soft squeeze. She continued.

“I want you to know that, despite things not working out between us, I will be forever grateful for having you in my life. You will always have a very special place in my heart.”

The hug came unexpectedly, but Victor took it. Time was fleeting, he couldn’t stop it anymore. He held her like she was the most precious thing he ever held in his life. And she was. She truly was.

Back at his apartment, Victor felt overwhelmed with emotion. Emotions that weighed heavily on him, all at once: love, pride, gratitude, sorrow, loss. His heart couldn’t possibly handle them all.

So he did the unthinkable. Sitting on his luxurious leather armchair, watching the skyline from his large window while nursing a final glass of brandy, he let himself cry.

#Growing Pains - Series #growingstronger #victor x oc #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc fanfic #love and producer #mister love queens choice

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architectuul · 4 years

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Curating an Exhibition in 2020: Handle with Care

Architecture exhibition Handle with Care: Tales of the Invisible opens at the Lisbon Architecture Triennale on October 15, as part of this year’s program of the Future Architecture Platform. To mark the occasion, here’s the interview with Sonja Lakić, architect, researcher and curator of the exhibition.

Preparing the exhibition at Lisbon Architecture Triennale headquarters, August 2020. | Photo © Sara Battesti

As we’re approaching the winter season of the pandemic which has pushed the entire world into various forms and intensities of isolation, it seems like there could hardly be a better time to reflect upon the practice of care and its relationship to architecture. Our rooms are becoming our worlds. When you began dreaming up this exhibition, did you anticipate it opening in this context of increased awareness of the spaces we inhabit? Absolutely not. The only spaces that curating this exhibition was supposed to unfold in, apart from Lisbon Architecture Triennale headquarters, were, obviously, interiors of Future Architecture platform partners institutions that I was, as it was originally planned, about to visit last spring. I would also add interiors of airports and airplanes to the list. Hotels included. I am still curious about all the breakfasts I missed due to pandemic. I, obviously, ended up making my dreams happen in front of my screen, meeting people sitting in front of their own laptops and/or computer screens, mostly inside their homes around Europe. I vividly remember the variety of blankets, cozy sofas and afternoon naps that violently came to an end due to numerous online meetings across Europe, as well as scaffolding outside an apartment in Turin that reminded me on L’Aquila, where I completed my PhD, planting a garden on a rooftop terrace in Lisbon, dilemmas from Berlin, and, finally, being taken next to a window in Barcelona to clap and support all the caretakers. I dreamt inside all of these homes without stepping inside any of them, appreciating them as the new landscapes of care, and, finally, landed in Lisbon: we are all, obviously, still in the mode of the increased awareness by all means, yet, the exhibition will get you covered from A to Z. It is, after all, handled with care.

Space Which Meditates: Future Architecture Accessories | Photo © Sonja Lakić

How did your background in architectural research and your lasting interest in lived forms of buildings inform your work on curating this exhibition?

I am somewhat a dissident from the discipline: I work visually, yet, I operate at the scale of the everyday, chasing after the non-evident and doing the storytelling by often using the language of urban anthropology and urban ethnography. I do not believe that architecture is only a physical matter: there is more to the story than meets the eye. That being said, there was only one way to curate the “Tales of the Invisible”: zero concrete. Zero final solutions. Hardly any material architecture. From the very beginning, I knew there would be no space for the permanently built structures: instead, I, again, chose to focus on the human clay and bring different people and thinking experiments to light. I searched for different concepts and ideas, digging deep for passion and determination, attempts and failures, individuals and groups that once made the architecture world turn around, traveling back and forth in time, myself unlearning what architecture may (not) be. There is never a wrong moment to celebrate humankind and this exhibition is, to a certain extent, an excuse to do so: a gentle reminder of what still surrounds us and what we are made of, or, at least, once were.

The creative process: keeping it as analogue as possible. | Drawings and photos © Sonja Lakić

vimeo

Curator's Log. An excerpt. Preparing "Handle with Care: Tales of the Invisible" exhibition for Lisbon Architecture Triennale under the Lisbon sun. | Video © Sonja Lakić

In your curatorial statement, you refer to this exhibition as to “homage to the quirks of the human mind”, “a call to re-think where we stand” and “a gentle reminder that life comes before buildings”. Can this be interpreted as an invitation to (re)consider the political role of architecture? I, most of all, envisioned the exhibition as a conversation, or, more precisely, a call for heart-to-heart exchange of this kind: my intention and desire is that people experience it and understand it in a variety of ways, yet, in full accordance with who they genuinely are. I never aimed to reach a consensus of any kind since that would mark an end of any debate. I, therefore, thank you for this question: I am more than happy to see that, days prior to the opening, the exhibition already lives its purpose by being interpreted. Thus, to a certain extent, the answer to your question is: yes, this is also an invitation to (re)consider the political role of architecture. What, for example, influenced my curatorial approach is “the awareness to the wonders” that Alberto Pérez-Gómez believes and, moreover, propagates in the book “Built upon Love: Architectural Longing after Ethics and Aesthetics”: we, whoever we may (not) be, should develop and nurture this skill that I interpret as “to stop and smell the roses”. This exhibition does this as well. Referring to your question, I have to say that I, obviously, find architecture political and this is, with no doubt, where consensus is inevitable.

Creating models from a discarded box of chocolate cookies | Photo © Sonja Lakić

Can architecture amplify the human potential for care-giving and care-receiving, and if so, how?

I believe that architecture itself stands for the noble discipline of care. This is why I, once upon a time, decided to study it: I recognised it as an opportunity to care about people while never letting go of mathematics, arts and drawing. For a nerd like me, to be engaged in this wide spectrum of disciplines is even nowadays of crucial importance, and was, therefore, as equally important during the early university days of mine, when I managed to detect traces of psychology and sociology in very few courses I was enrolled in.

Architecture, most of all, is all about a very particular responsibility that first comes with the vision of an architect and next translates to “a program” of how to use a building: this is where one needs to be very careful, while, simultaneously, to care a lot. The program is, say, often a recipe for how to live one’s life, as prescribed by an architect: of course, this rarely happens, for the life itself is not to be tamed. Architecture already amplifies the human potential for care-giving and care-receiving. Or, should I say that there are architects who do so? Maybe that would be more ethical. There are beautiful individual minds and collectives who stand for care by their mere existence, embracing their ethics in their texts and variety of programs. To paraphrase Esra Akcan, one of my favorite minds of all times: architecture can heal. And I believe it should. The process of healing may happen through the process of (un)learning, collaboration with other disciplines, seeing the world through the eyes of the other, while, simultaneously, never ever considering anyone as the other. Same goes for care.

Taking a break in the summer of the 2020: the Sun, the ocean, the drinks, and the disinfectant gel. | Photo © Sonja Lakić

What, however, instantly comes to my mind when thinking about architecture and care, especially the healing process, is whether it is possible for the healing of post-conflict societies, including the country of my origin, that is, the region of former Yugoslavia, to happen via architectural programs that, to put it simply, celebrate life. What if, instead of constantly exposing one to memorabilia that recalls past events and somewhat advocates for the culture of mourning, we take care of people by gently reminding them of all the reasons why it is good to be alive? I am aware that this is somewhat calling for a revolution, yet, this is how “the awareness to the wonders” I previously mentioned may be attempted to achieve, without any actual construction happening: this is where temporary structures, installations and performances and engaging in performative planning and tactical urbanism, could play an important role. We owe it to ourselves, as well as to each of our individual human potentials, regardless of who we as individuals are, to, at least, try, having a little faith in architecture as an event rather than the final say.

Sonja Lakić at Lisbon Architecture Triennale headquarters, August 2020. | Photo © Sara Battesti

The exhibition draws from the collections of the Museum of Architecture and Design in Ljubljana, MAXXI National Museum of 21st Century Arts and the Estonian Museum of Architecture. What does curatorial collaboration with museums scattered across Europe look like in a time of Covid-19?

On the one hand, it resembled any other “new normal” kind of experience and, in that sense, it was not any different from any of the pandemic-imposed daily routine since it evolved around the absence of movement and the impossibility of touch. Simultaneously, it was quite a challenge: can you imagine curating an exhibition without stepping into an institution and getting to see a collection? I did dig deep within myself, looking for answers, and have to admit that, occasionally, it seemed to be a bit of a challenge. However, I have to say that I am immensely grateful to all the people that I crossed paths with and whom I collaborated with on this project: words are not enough to describe how easy and smooth the overall process was and how helpful, patient and caring were partners from Ljubljana, Rome and Tallinn. I learned a lot and indeed grew, yet, not only in professional terms: rather, collaboration with Museum of Architecture and Design in Ljubljana, MAXXI National Museum of 21st Century Arts and the Estonian Museum of Architecture had a profound impact on me personally as well and was, in this sense, a game changer. They were all extremely devoted and committed, helping me connect with architects and scientists that I, prior to this exhibition, have only read about. Oh, I went places I never dreamed of, and I will come back for more, however, in person. Hopefully no more screens.

Lisbon people and their balconies. | Photo © Sonja Lakić

A while ago, you stayed in Lisbon as a visiting researcher at ISCTE-IUL; now you’re back to curate an exhibition commissioned by Lisbon Architecture Triennale. What about the city preoccupies you these days? If Lisbon, as a living archive, could preserve one message from this exhibition, what would you like that message to be?

People. People always preoccupy me regardless of my geographical location. I am currently collaborating with ISCTE-IUL again and am also affiliated with ETNO.URB, so there are many big fishes to fry, and I am extremely happy and beyond excited for this. Of course, I could not help it: again, I observed the Lisbon edition of glazed balconies, and I found that one of them is especially dear to my heart, as it conceals the story about the most notorious apartment in the 1980s neighborhood where I found my home.

As far as the message, I would say it is rather evident: life comes before buildings. People first. Always and forever.

Sonja Lakić (1983) is an internationally trained architect and researcher with a PhD in Urban Studies. Her work evolves around open architecture and dialectical urbanism, with a keen interest in lived forms of buildings hence anthropological and sociological aspects of architectural design and the built environment. Topics of her curiosity that she nurtured in Gran Sasso Science Institute and while briefly appointed as visiting researcher at ISCTE-IUL in Lisbon, include the everydayness of architecture, home(making), housing and informality, buildings as living archives, post-conflict societies. Sonja operates across different disciplines and scales, works visually, and collects oral histories, practicing unconventional ethnography and storytelling mainly through photography. --- By Sonja Dragović

#architecture #exhibition #future architecture

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moeruhoshi · 5 years

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Unfinished and unedited WIP i dont know what to fucking do with--its been so long and i still can’t come up with an endiiiiing

Her father had locked her away so many years ago, after the death of her mother, not wanting to bother himself with even so much a sight of his grieving daughter. She was sent off to a castle no longer in use, dreary and dread, archbishops and dukes residing here many years ago. A staff was employed to keep her healthy and alive; the only traits her father cared for until she was ready to send away, again, for marriage. Pleasantly enough, her mother’s things were also sent out of the castle along with her; books, clothing, bedsheets, crowns. Lucy had the spirit of her mother by her side, not that it helped much to dampen her feelings of loss and loneliness.

And as she grew older, the staff grew smaller and smaller, soon she was all who was left, goodbyes pardoned for the poor who received illness or were ordered to return to the capital. Lucy enjoyed taking care of herself, being able to do as she liked when she liked, although etiquette still burned true in her veins. Unlearning the proper ways to stand, eat, and walk were ones hard to reprogram. She wondered someday if her father would even send for her, or continue to keep her far beneath his reach in an old castle left to perish empty and alone. Someone back home was at least thinking of her, or else food deliveries were sure to stop.

“See you again, Princess!” Zoldeo waved as he drove away her cart, Lucy waving back, sighing to herself as she was once again left without company. The two always had somewhat pleasant conversations as they moved her grains, potatoes, and other perishables from the cart and into her kitchen, his tales usually of the constant buzzing lifestyle in the center of the kingdom. Lucy missed the busyness of the streets, horse hooves on cobblestones, children laughing and begging their parents for a treat. She missed the festivals and fireworks, or really any sound that wasn’t constant flourishing wind. She never braved leaving her home farther than the garden she created in fear of getting lost in the surrounding woods without a guide to help her find her way.

The princess turned on her heel as the servant was now out of sight, flinching as the leaves rustled behind her back. It was probably a bunny, she assured herself, hoping to be able to treat it with a carrot if it trusted her scent enough. A whimper revealed itself, whoever behind the leaves unable to breach them.

“H-Hello?” Lucy called as she edged closer to the boundary of the trees, peering ever so slightly into the shaded area. She gasped, eyes casting over an injured dragon nearly a foot or so taller than her, wings furled trying to hide the gash on his side that only continued to drip blood into the grass.

“Oh goodness, are you alright?!” She asked as she stepped over the shrubbery to observe him more closely. He growled as she tried to carelessly touch his scales, Lucy backing away with an apology.

“Let me help you, okay? I promise I’ll be gentle,” She smiled softly, holding out a hand for him to sniff in acquaintance. His snout pat her palm as he accepted her scent, gruffing in approval to allow her to continue. Lucy thanked him as he pulled away his wing, eyes wide as she took in the entirety of his injuries.

“Let me see your eyes,” She mumbled to his craning head, their deep yellow muddled and shaky. “Poisoned...”

“Well, you’re lucky to have made it so close to my home,” She scratched the underside of his chin lightly. “Do you think you can walk? I’d be able to help you much more if you come inside. I’ve studied my mother's medicine books, so I should be of some help,”

It was a rather grueling task, one Lucy would be grateful to never have to do again. She helped the dragon to his feet, wincing as he did, apologizing for stirring his pain. They hobbled around the side of her castle and aimed for the much grander front entrance through which he’d be able to fit. They plopped against the harder tile floor, Lucy groaning as she fell to her back by his side, wiping the sweat having trailed from her hairline.

“I have not carried so much as an apple basket compared to even the slightest bit of you, Sir Dragon,” She puffed, receiving only but a glance as he adjusted himself. The foyer was quite large, stairs coming from either the west and east wing to meet at the center of the palace, a large painting of the late queen hanging above them. She moved to close the large wooden doors, dragon curled in the middle of the room.

“Not as comfortable as it could be, I know,” She spoke more to herself than the dragon, if he could even understand what she was saying as she moved to ascend her staircase. “I’m much more comfortable having you move again once we close that awful wound. Let me gather some supplies and hurry before that gets anymore infected.”

There was only so much the princess could do in this empty home of hers, reading being the most common and effective escape. Books were able to take her to far away lands, lead her on adventures with the friends she made every page, find ways out of sticky situations and conquer villains thought to have been unbeatable. After reading all the fictional books she could get her hands on, there were those of a more boring genre but provided Lucy with valuable information. She enjoyed those on gardening and apothecary, taking into account which plants outside were safe for her to eat and those she could turn into salves or soaps, ointments to ale ailments she may mysteriously encounter. She collected jars of her creations, reusing ones from her jams and marmalades, Zoldeo often arriving with empty ones she had asked for. Bandages and thick thread as well, she had a knack for sewing dresses and attempted her hand at a pillow suture, just in case. The stories she read were wonderful at sending the message to be prepared. Of course Lucy just liked learning in general and was glad if any of her skills could come in handy; but having to care for a dragon may not have been one she anticipated.

He watched as she came back with an armful of jars and white rolls, setting them down in front of him before she made her way towards her kitchen, telling him she would be needing a water and rags as well.

“I’m glad it’s just us here, otherwise I’m sure someone would have a fit over the mess I’m about to make,” She laughed, setting down the sloshing bucket next to his side. The cut wasn’t long but it appeared deep, or along an artery that more speedily exposed him to the effects of the poison. She took a mortar and pestle, picking dried leaves out of several jars to crush them together in almost a near fine powder.

“I’m going to mix this into the water to help clean out anything that might be in your wound,” She explained, popping open another jar with sticky white paste. “Now, is it alright if I help you fall asleep?”

He gruffed and shook his head, almost glaring at the blonde for suggesting what could be an opportunity for her to easily betray him, relationship too new for his trust.

“That’s alright,” She chuckled, smearing the paste below his nostrils with her thumb. “This should help ease the sting of me clearing your injury, don’t lick it or you will fall asleep,”

“Now please, try not to hurt me while I do this,” She sighed with a nervous smile, petting the dragon from the base of a horn down his neck, satisfied as he released a small purr. She took one of the few clean rags she brought with her, dipping it into the water before ringing it out above the jagged cut. He howled, tail thwomping against the floor as she continued, gobs of clustered blood sticking to leaves and small twigs, some small pebbles and rocks flooding out.

“Shh, it’s okay,” She reassured him as she cleaned around the wound as well before preparing to stitch him up. The dragon whimpered as she pressed the edges together, dipping her needle into the remaining water before piercing through his scaled appearance. Luckily more was closer to the soft underbelly of his skin, making it a slightly faster process but still uncomfortable as he continued to cry out.

“Now this,” She gestured to another jar of thicker, gloopy looking ointment. “Will help heal you faster, I’ll apply it everyday until there’s nothing but a scar,”

Lucy smiled as he became dazed, head falling by her side as she washed away the remaining blood and brushed her fingers carefully over the stitching. She stood up after pasting his bandages on, sighing at the bloody slosh around them, pushing up her sleeves as she went to retrieve fresh water and a mop.

“Let’s make you something to eat, something to get rid of that poison, hmm? Not too much, I don’t want your stomach pressing on your wound.” She huffed and wiped the sweat from her brow, the dragon having laid still while she cleaned up the aftermath. He furled his wings as she walked away, returning some time later with a grunt or two, heaving a pot of stew in front of him.

“You sure are making the lady sweat, Sir Dragon. I hope it’s not too hot, but I’m sure you won’t mind it. You breathe fire, don’t you?” She smiled as he nodded, dipping into the pot with a sniff. “There are a lot of herbs, to help get rid of those nasty toxins. I’d hate to know whoever tried to hurt you. Not a hunter I hope?” He shook his head, mildly lapping at the soup to curb his hunger.

“Something else in the woods?” She gasped as he nodded, Lucy’s hand stroking softly against the scales of his neck as she watched him eat. “Goodness, I’ll do my best to be careful going outside, hopefully whatever it was has already gone away.”

“It has gotten quite late, I didn’t even notice the time,” She yawned gracefully behind her hand after returning from the kitchen again. The dragon had curled in on himself, eye glancing as she gave him one last scratch for the day.

“Will you be alright sleeping by yourself? Do you need a blanket?” His chest seemed to rise with a chuckle and another shake of his head, his eyes closing as they rested against his claws.

“I’ll be upstairs if you need anything...do you have a name? I think it’s a bit rude to simply call you ‘Dragon’. Although I doubt you can answer,” She giggled, kneeling to his side. “Shall I call you Gonzales?”

He seemed to turn sour at the name, disagreeing instantly as she pouted.

“No one likes that name, I personally think it’s cute,” She humphed. “How about... Kaen? It means flame,”

He shook his head again, gesturing to a tapestry hanging above her with a large sun needlepointed into it.

“The sun? Taiyo?”

He disagreed, continuing to nod towards the tapestry in suggestion.

“Summer, maybe? Natsu?” She laughed as he nodded, clapping her hands together. “Natsu it is! Well then, goodnight, Natsu.”

Lucy gave him a chaste kiss upon the tip of his snout before gracefully taking her leave to her room upstairs, happy to finally take off her dampened dress.

She yawned as the sun shone brightly on her edge of the woods, coaxing her to move out of bed and get ready for the day. The princess dressed in much lighter clothing this time, excited as she skipped down her stairs to the one she was taking care of.

“Good morning, Natsu!” She chirped as she opened the curtains, the dragon grunting as the sunlight flooded in. “Its a bit improper to be so loud, but I never get to greet anyone in the morning.” The princess sighed as he lifted himself for her to inspect his eyes.

“Oh good, they’re not so red anymore. I’ll make us some breakfast and then give you a bath, hmm? That should help make you feel better. Some more ointment and fresh bandages too.”

Natsu seemed too tired to care either way as she walked off to conduct their day. He lazily opened an eye as she came back with another soup again in its large pot, listing their ingredients and their benefits before going to fetch a bucket of water, bringing down a whole collection of jars again to mix bubbly water and began to scrub him with a content smile.

“Do you like that? What a good boy,” She giggled as he purred, Lucy brushing along his tail, the dragon wagging it and turning to nudge her with his snout. The bristles continued to stimulate his scales, Natsu almost ready to roll over at the tickling sensation. He licked her cheek lightly as she moved along his back and over the patterned spikes, Lucy laughing and caressing his head as it rested on her shoulder. He mumbled and pressed against her as she made her way up his horns, sighing delightfully.

“Now that we’re done,” The blonde hummed as she pasted on his clean bandages. “Would you like to hear a story?”

“This one is one of my favorites,” Lucy sighed as she set down a stack of books she was all too eager to bring down and share with the dragon. “Although I don’t think you’d be too happy that the prince tries to defeat the dragon, hmm?” She giggled as he shook his head.

“It’s a lovely story I always thought, my mother would read it to me whenever I was upset. I think it’s wonderful when he rescues his princess at the end,”

“Oh, goodness, I haven’t introduced myself, have I?” She smiled as she stood from her place at his side, taking the edges of her skirt to offer a deep curtesy.

“Princess Lucy Heartfilia of Fiore,” His eyes seemed to widen as she bowed to him. “My father sent me here after mother died, if you’re curious why I’m so far from home.” The conversation fell short as she sat back down, pulling a book from the stack as she turned to him with a smile.

“Now, this is a story about my best friends. My mother wrote it for me,”

And so, Lucy spent her days eager to finally wake up with someone by her side, not literally but caring for the dragon was enough to fill the loneliness she had been experiencing all these years. They would eat together and she would redress his wound, occasionally give him baths as well. The two spent most of their time curled with Lucy leaning against his neck, the princess going on to read him each of her favorite books, dramatizing the adventures and trying her best to make them come to life, thoroughly embarrassed when all the dragon would do was look at her. He always looked like he was on the verge of speaking, which made Lucy curious and a bit upset, she missed the ability to speak with another person, but Natsu responded well enough. There were nights she fell asleep in the middle of reading, curled against the dragon, his tail moving to act as a blanket. She’d wake up dreary and warm, quick to apologize for drooling on his scales. He’d greet her each morning with a lick to her cheek, Lucy giggling as she pushed his slobbering tongue away. It had been almost a month since their meeting, Natsu nearly healed, Lucy’s salve working wonders and herbs working quickly to flush the toxins out of his system.

“Good morning, Natsu,” Lucy yawned delicately behind her hand as she made her way down the stairs, stopping halfway as she saw him padding around more actively, looking antsy as he eyed the drawn curtains.

“Oh, would you like to go outside? I’m sure you’re tired of staying cooped up in here, and your wound has just about healed!” Lucy smiled as she walked towards the large door.

#fairy tail #fairy tail nalu #nalu #lucy heartfilia #natsu dragneel #natsu and lucy #natsu x lucy #lucy and natsu #lucy x natsu #nalu fanfiction #nalu fan fiction #nalu fanfic #nalu fan fic #nalu princess x dragon

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imladris-soldier · 5 years

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Lashes (pt 15)

Bill Williamson is a racist asshole. Everyone knows it. They just punch him and go on about their day. When a Lakota woman joins the gang, everyone expects things to go on as normal, slurs and all, and for a time, it does. But her curiosity gets the better of her, and she finds that hatred is something learned - which means it can be unlearned, if given time, care, and patience. And she has plenty of those… the first two, anyway.

Bill Williamson x OC

Days passed in the swamp as Dutch investigated potential leads for money in the nearby, abhorred city of Saint Denis. Apparently, Angelo Bronte had turned out to be in some way a friend to the gang instead of an enemy. Getting Jack back hadn't been nearly as difficult as they had anticipated. Things were looking up. Again. Why then did it feel so... off?

Things only got stranger one afternoon when Bill and Hosea approached Star with ever so slightly nervous expressions. She looked up from where she was sharpening her knife, taking in both of their looks before sitting back and crossing her arms over her chest. “What?”

“We've got a favor to ask,” Hosea began, voice chipper but unsure.

“Ok.”

“So, Dutch has accepted some invitations to a party in the city. At the Mayor's house, apparently. Mr. Bronte invited us.”

“Uh huh.”

“Dutch wants to bring along a woman who can get into circles that us men can't. To help us find some leads, see. We was wondering if you might join us.”

“Who's us?”

“Well, me and Bill here. And Dutch and Arthur.”

Star sat there, observing the way her lover wrung his hands slightly and didn't make eye contact. “Why not ask the others? Why me? I'm just going to stick out like a sore thumb. A Lakota in a fancy dress? That's just asking for trouble.”

“I told you she wouldn't want to do it,” Bill admonished.

Hosea turned to him and threw up his hands. “Well maybe if you told her the real reason instead of recruiting me to make things up she'd change her mind!” With that, he walked away, leaving Bill to clean up the fallout of what he'd said.

Star's eyebrow arched, and she simply waited for the truth to spill out. She didn't have to wait long.

“Dutch asked me to go along on this mission,” Bill explained. “Now, I-I-I dunno why. You know me. Ain't exactly the sort for polite society. Don't know a dining fork from a pitchfork. But I... I really wanna impress him, ya know? Show him I can be trusted with these sorts'a things. 'Course, I'd feel better if... well if you was there with me, and Dutch wanted us to bring a woman, so... but I knew you wouldn't want to. Figured you'd find a reason you shouldn't go. So I asked Hosea to ask you. Thought maybe comin' from him it would mean somethin'.”

Star's expression softened considerably as the explanation went on. It was all very Bill, and it broke her heart a little to know how insecure he was about it all – even coming to her and asking for help. “Why didn't you just tell me that?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, staring at his shoes. “Didn't want you to think I was bein' stupid. I dunno.” He shrugged, defeated.

The woman sighed, putting her knife back in her boot before standing and joining him. “Bill, darling, every reason you gave for wanting me along is valid. And I understand why you want to go. I'm just sorry that you felt you had to hide it from me.”

He shook his head. “It ain't nothin' you done. I... I just ain't used to askin' for help. Besides... I wanna be the one protectin' you. Not the other way around.”

Star smiled, taking his hand. “I'm sure there will come a time for that. In the meantime, let me help you. Tell Dutch I'll go. It might be a fiasco, but I'll go.”

“You will?”

“For you? Sure.” She held up a hand. “But, you don't have to tell Dutch that.”

Bill smiled, hooking an arm around her shoulders to pull her in for a kiss to the top of her head. “Thanks. I'll let him know.”

“Guess I better find a dress.”

He chuckled into her hair. “That'll be a sight.”

“Oh yeah? And what about you in a suit?”

His face went slack and slightly white. “Well I... I didn't think'a that.”

Star laughed softly. “Guess you better start thinking about it. See what the others plan to do. Maybe there's a shopping trip in the works.”

“Right. I'll look into it. See you later?”

“Of course.”

They part ways and went about the business of the camp. Dutch found Star later in the day and confirmed with her what Bill had told him. He seemed surprised that she was willing to go, naming some of the same concerns she had mentioned, but it was easy enough to lie to him, though perhaps they were simply misdirections. “I want to see this city at least once before we leave. It's probably the only chance I'm going to get to attend something like this. Just want to help out the gang.”

A shopping trip was, in fact, planned for the evening of the event, and the party-goers rode off together to attend to it. Star, for her part, was a bundle of nerves. She didn't want to see the faces of the city folk when she walked into the tailor's looking for a fancy dress. Too often she'd watched noses curl up in barely hidden disgust just because she existed, and that had been in towns like Valentine with no delusions of being high-brow. But, this was for Bill's sake, not her own, and that made it easier.

When Saint Denis appeared on the horizon, Dutch rode even with Star and asked, “Well? What do you think of this peak of civilization?”

The cluster of ugly buildings belched out black clouds of smoke. The waters around it were filled with boats, coming and going. The smell that it added to the already pungent marshland scent was... overwhelming.

“This is a city? It seems more like an architectural pustule.”

Dutch chuckled deeply. “My thoughts exactly. There's still time to turn back.”

“That would not be very brave of me.”

“Between you and me, I might not be feelin' so brave myself.”

They shared a smile, then fell quiet for the rest of the ride.

Hosea led the way to the tailor. Star was tempted to look around at all the people and the buildings, but there were so many people and buildings that riding distracted in any way might prove perilous. Instead, she kept her eyes on Hosea and tried to follow his movements precisely. Rhiannon tossed her head nervously, especially when a clanging vehicle of some sort went by on tracks in the road.

Bill positioned himself and Brown Jack to be between Star, Rhiannon, and the tracks to shield them from any other passing trolleys, casting a concerned glance their direction, but saying nothing. Star felt better having him there.

When the group finally arrived at their destination, Star dismounted and moved quickly to Bill's side. She could already feel the looks – the gazes that screamed you don't belong here. Still, one thing that she hadn't anticipated was the variations of color the city would hold. Though she had yet to see anyone that looked like her, there were many who looked like Lenny and Tilly and Javier. Knowing that was a small comfort.

Dutch led the way into the store, announcing their presence with his charming, booming voice, and in moments, they were all being ushered away to be fitted for something appropriate. Star was loathe to be parted from the men, but decency demanded it, so she followed behind the assistant girl obediently. The girl was kind enough, asking what event they were going to, then proceeding to swoon about it. As she showed Star into a small room, she smiled and said the tailor would be with her shortly.

Star sat on a chair in the middle of the room, trying not to allow her anxieties to get the better of her. These were the sorts of things women did all the time. The tailor would not think it odd, so neither should she.

It took perhaps ten minutes for the tailor to join her, and the man was immediately pleasant. He asked what sort of styles she liked, and when she stared at him in stunned silence, he just laughed and said they would try them all. So they did.

It took time, but eventually the tailor made Star believe that she looked nice in a deep green evening gown. The chest was cut in a square shape, exposing a great deal of her skin, but the frilly shoulders kept the dress secure. The fabric pinched close at the waist before flaring out in the skirt that dragged the ground slightly. There were sewn embellishments on the skirt in a flowing pattern, adding a bit of elegance to an otherwise fairly simple dress.

“There now,” the tailor murmured as she emerged from behind the dressing wall. “Don't we look lovely?”

Star looked at herself in the mirror, unable to reconcile her understanding of herself with the image before her. While it wasn't a look she intended to maintain, she was not unhappy with it. “Thank you, sir,” she said quietly, swirling the skirt around her legs a bit. “I believe this will suit me fine.”

She took a moment to braid her hair, then followed the tailor back out to the main room. The men had already finished, and they stood in a small group looking far more dapper than she'd ever thought to see them. Something about the absurdity of it all caused a giddiness to bubble in her chest, and she laughed to herself.

The laugh drew the attention of the men, and they all gaped, but none quite so much as Bill. Star shuffled forward, still unaccustomed to the length of the gown and the shoes that went with it. “Well?” she asked.

Dutch took her gloved hand and brought it to his lips in a sweeping gesture. “I have never seen somethin' so lovely in all my life,” he answered.

Hosea laughed and shooed him away. “You'll make the girl blush, Dutch.”

“Oh, but I am tryin',” he chuckled.

“Ya look real pretty, Star,” Arthur said with a kind smile. “Like a real lady.”

“Oh, I wouldn't go that far,” Star laughed softly. “But something sort of close, maybe.”

After paying for the wares, Dutch, Arthur, and Hosea made their way outside to wait for the coach that Dutch had 'hired' – conveniently driven by Lenny. The details of that particular heist had not been explained to Star, but she found it highly amusing regardless.

Bill stayed where he was, staring. It was his attentions that made Star blush, brown eyes falling to her feet. “So?” she asked.

“You... yer gorgeous,” he breathed.

Her eyes came back to him, sparkling from the compliment. He'd slicked his hair back, and the suit he'd donned fit him just right. One could look at the pair and believe for a second that they'd been rich their whole lives.

“You look so good!” she cried, smiling. “Who'd have thought that a little hair pomade and some fancy fabric would turn you into a gentleman?”

He rolled his eyes, but she saw the smile dancing around on his lips as he turned toward the door. “Come on, you.”

They joined the others outside, and it wasn't long before Lenny pulled up on a carriage, dressed to the hilt as well. He winked at them and called, “Did you order a coach, sirs?”

“We surely did!” Dutch replied, opening the door for his friends. “We are going to a party at the mayor's house.”

“I took the liberty of stocking your cabin with some celebratory alcohol. I hope you don't mind.”

Dutch laughed. “My boy, you are ever so resourceful.”

They all climbed in, and Star sat herself between Bill and Hosea, accepting the glass of champagne that Dutch held out to her. The boys were quicker about their consumption and soon got to laughing uncontrollably about some story or another. Star was mostly laughing at them under the guise of laughing with them, but the mood in the coach was just so undeniably jovial.

“I ain't never been to a ball,” Arthur laughed.

“Truth be told, neither have I,” Dutch replied.

Hosea waved them off. “I've been to quite a few in my time.” He winked. “Fine pickings.”

“Oh, no, no, no, no. No pickpocketing! We are here to make real contacts.”

“What kind of contacts?” Arthur asked.

“Well, I dunno. We'll find what we can. All I know for sure is we are goin' to a party at the mayor's house, and the guest of honor is the worst crook in town! I am sure that we will find something.”

This led to another round of guffaws that Star waited out before speaking up. “Boys, we need to decide what my story is.” Confused eyes fell on her, and she went on, “This isn't a party with the gang. This is high society, and I... I don't fit the mold.”

“And you think we do?” Arthur replied.

She smiled and shook her head. “That's not what I mean. Arthur, I'm Lakota. You boys are not. You might be a little rough around the edges, but me? They're going to look at me and see nothing but a savage in a dress.”

And just like that, she landed on an idea.

“Which is... exactly what we're going to let them see.”

Dutch, canted his head slightly. “I don't follow.”

“During many of the military actions against my people, women were taken against their will to be the wives of soldiers. Or, more accurately, slaves. A tamed jewel on their arm as a mark of their victories. I'm sure Saint Denis has its share of such men. Bill was army. Let me play his spoil of war. It will be cause for less questions, and we could use a few less questions while we're scoping the place for robbery leads.”

“She makes a good point,” Hosea agreed.

Dutch nodded thoughtfully. “You sure you can handle bein' a slave for a night?”

The question was a tease, but there was an underlying truth to it. “For a night, sure.”

“Fine. Then that's what we'll do. You keep at Bill's side and see what you can find out. If you're nothin' more than a jewel, well... what harm could you be?” A slightly sinister smile spread over his face. “Ears and eyes open, madam.”

“Yes, sir,” she replied with a nod.

The carriage pulled up in front of the mayor's house, and they all loaded out. Dutch, Hosea, and Arthur went out the side facing the house while Bill and Star went out the opposite door. Once the pair were standing with the coach between them and everything else, Bill caught her elbow and pulled her close to murmur, “I... I don't wanna treat you like a slave.”

“It's just an act,” she replied, pulling up her elbow-length gloves. “Unless you plan on answering to every horse's ass in there who wants to know why you're an Indian lover.”

“Well...”

“You're not, alright? As long as we are here, I am nothing more than an object. You won me. You killed my family and took me from my home to show off to the world. And you have to treat me that way.”

The man seemed confused and slightly hurt by it all, but he just nodded, offering the crook of his elbow for her to put her arm through. She did so, took a deep breath, and then allowed her shoulders to sag ever so slightly. Her eyes fell to the ground, and she tried to convince herself that the man at her side had broken her will. It was not easy.

They walked around the carriage to join the others. The doorman confiscated their weapons, accepted their invitations, then led them through the house. Dutch and Arthur were ushered up the stairs to meet with Bronte while Hosea, Bill, and Star were led out to the back porch to await their friends.

Though she avoided eye contact with everyone, Star allowed her gaze to sweep over the house and the party. Everything was glittering and dancing in the soft warmth of evening. Had the company been different, it might have been a pleasant party. Though, what did she know of such things?

Men and women mingled in small groups on the lawn, talking of stock prices and industry. It was like a foreign tongue, and Star was not sure what to make of it. Where there was industry, there was money, but how did one steal stock?

Before too long, Dutch and Arthur reappeared. There was a tension radiating from Dutch that couldn't be placed, but it made Star slightly uneasy. Whatever had been said with Bronte had riled him.

“Ok,” he murmured. “Arthur, go find the mayor, if you can. Stay outta trouble, and steal nothin' unless it's information.”

“Got it.”

Arthur jogged down the stairs and joined the party as Dutch turned to the rest. “Hosea, you go find us some place to rob.”

“On it.”

“Bill, Bronte pointed out some military men off that'a way. Go see if you can warm up to 'em. Make us some new friends if you can.”

“I... right. Ok.”

“Star...” He paused and gave her a tiny smile. “Keep your mouth shut and your head down. See what you can overhear.”

She nodded, avoiding his gaze and stepping closer to Bill. Dutch chuckled. “Atta girl. I'm gonna find out if Cornwall and what's-his-name, Milton, know we're here.”

They split up. Bill meandered in the direction Dutch had indicated, though his steps were hesitant. Star mentally begged him to find some confidence, even if it was contrived. “Just pretend you're the biggest honcho in the army,” she whispered. “Use enough truth that it sounds believable, but embellish a little bit.”

“I don't know what that means,” he hissed back.

It was too late to worry about it as they had come up on the officers and their wives. Bill cleared his throat awkwardly and greeted, “Good evenin', gentlemen! Ladies.”

They turned, appraising the pair down their noses. “And who might you be?” one of the men asked.

“Well, I'm... Sergeant Bill Martin. 7th Cavalry, D Troop.”

“Ah!” the man cried, smiling. “A Garryowen! Come, join us!” Bill and Star joined the circle as the man went on, “Knew a few fellas in the 7th. All of 'em were fine, upstandin' men. How long you serve, Sergeant?”

“Near about seven years. Yourself?”

“Oh, I'm a career man. Never have left!” He laughed.

The conversation wandered off into military logistics and talk of commanders and other things that Star knew nothing about. Bill seemed to keep up with it, so she chose to listen to the conversations happening around them instead. At least until her presence was brought into the spotlight.

“I don't believe you've introduced your companion, sir,” one of the wives practically sneered.

“Oh, her? This is... well I don't quite remember what her name was before I found her. She-she answers to Abigail now. Proper, Christian name.

“Nice to meet you, Abigail,” the woman replied.

Star bowed her head slightly and mumbled a greeting, only to be nudged hard by Bill who pressed, “Speak so everyone can hear ya.”

“Nice to meet you, ma'am,” Star repeated, louder.

That seemed to satisfy the crowd, and she was allowed to slip into obscurity once more, though they went on talking about her as if she wasn't there.

“Where'd you find that one, Sergeant?” one of the men asked. “I'd heard of men taking prairie trophies, but I'd not yet seen one in the flesh.”

Bill glanced at her, then answered, “Caught her fleein' from Wounded Knee.”

Star's insides twisted up, but she couldn't fault him. Enough truth to make it believable.

“Ran her down, trussed her up, took her home. I like to-to-to bring her out for parties like this. Reminds us all what we're fightin' for out there. Taming the wilds, as it were.”

“Well, I sure never thought to see one in an evening gown.”

“Right,” Bill laughed. “You, go get me a drink.”

He shoved Star off slightly, and she hurried to do as told, silently thanking him for finding an excuse to free her from the verbal assault. Though it was mostly as she had expected, it still stung and riled her all the same. Bill had fallen into his role well which only made it worse. She didn't believe he meant of word of it, but it was just a little too close to the man he had been when they met. For a second she could almost imagine that he'd never changed at all, and it was a terrifying thing to think of.

She stood at the drink table, pouring a glass of punch and taking a moment for herself. Much to her surprise, she was joined by a man she recognized – one she had never thought to see again.

“Eagle Flies?” she asked, leaning to catch his gaze.

He looked like he was going to be hostile for a moment, but when he registered her identity, shock replaced every other emotion. “Wicapiwakan? What...? How have you come to be here?”

“It's a... very long story. And you?”

“My father is here petitioning the mayor on behalf of our tribe. They seek to move us again.”

“Again? Have the Wapiti not suffered enough?”

“A sentiment we share, though I do not see what talking will gain us. This will lead to war.”

Though that revelation troubled her, it made her smile slightly as well. “That sounds like the man who massacred a camp full of army men for the deaths of a few Lakota. Without which I would not be here.”

“Yes. What became of you after we freed you that night?”

“I fell in with a gang of outlaws and have been living with them. It's been a trying road, though not without its benefits.”

He smirked, his eyes slipping up and down her figure. “I take it these outlaws bought you your fine dress?”

She rolled her eyes. “We are here on business and had to look the part.”

“No matter what you and I wear... we will never look the part, my friend.”

It was true. Horrid, but true. And evidence of that truth was marching through the crowd in their direction.

Star saw Bill coming only a few seconds before he arrived. She quickly looked over at her friend and hissed, “Whatever is about to happen, I must ask that you play along.”

“I don't understand.”

“Please. Just do as I say.”

Bill lumbered up, his entire body language suggesting rage, but his voice suggesting panic. “They saw ya over here talkin' to this fella and they sent me to deal with ya. What do I do?”

Eagle Flies stared in confusion while Star's eyes went over Bill's shoulder to the group he'd left. They were all waiting expectantly for her to be put back into her place. “Well, we've already been speaking too long. They'll assume I'm talking back.”

“What is this game you're playing?” Eagle Flies murmured, casting a suspicious glance at Bill. “Do you need help?”

“No, my friend. We are pretending to be something we are not in the hopes of gaining information. Please believe that, as what is about to happen is not going to be pleasant. Bill, hit me.”

“Wh... what?” Bill stammered. “Why?”

“You've well established yourself as a violent man to them, and they're expecting a show. I've already spent too long defying you. Hit me.”

“No. I'm not gonna...”

“I swear to god, Bill, if you do not hit me everything is going to fall apart. Do you want Dutch to be disappointed again?”

“N-no. But I can't...”

“You can. Eagle Flies, where are you and your father staying? I will seek you out again.”

“We have a meeting with a city counselor in two days on High Street. Meet us there. Perhaps you can talk some sense into my father.”

“I will. Now, Bill, god damn it.”

It seemed to take every single ounce of will in Bill's body to do it, but he backhanded Star clean across the face. It was a good hit. The sound of skin against skin caused the surrounding crowd to gasp and murmur, but when they saw the situation, most were content to ignore it. Eagle Flies recoiled, staring in shock and confusion, but then he slipped away into the crowd.

Bill grabbed Star's elbow and dragged her back to the military men and their wives. “Forgive me, gentlemen,” he said when they arrived. “Seems she still thinks she can talk to me like she ain't the dirt on my boots.”

“No apologies necessary, Sergeant. You've done the right thing.”

They talked a little while longer, and Star stood, staring at her feet as blood trickled down her chin from her busted lip. The act was beginning to be too much, and she hadn't even found anything of use for Dutch. Though, running into Eagle Flies presented another concern entirely. It had been a long time since she had worried about anything outside of the gang, but now...

When the fireworks started, the crowd immediately became enamored, turning to face the sparkling expanse of sky. In that moment of distraction, Bill took Star's elbow and pulled her away, through some bushes to a secluded section of garden.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I can't do it no more,” he answered. “I ain't gonna stand there and listen to them talk about ya like that.” He reached up to brush away the tendril of blood from her mouth. “I... I fuckin' hit ya. Yer bleedin'. And for what?”

“To be fair, I didn't give you much choice.”

“I ain't doin' it. We're gonna go back to the house and wait for the others. I don't care what Dutch says.”

It was almost as if he'd hit her again. “You don't?”

“No. Arthur and Hosea'll find somethin'. Ain't no reason for you to suffer like this for a score. Or me, for that matter.”

She looked up, amused. “You?”

“What, you think I like hittin' you? You think I like pretending that you ain't the most valuable thing I ever had? Well, I don't. All these... these high society, high'n'mighty pigeon shits can fuck off and die.”

Star grabbed his suit jacket and pulled him in for a kiss, despite the pain it caused her lip. “Remind me never to doubt your acting abilities again.”

He snorted. “Yeah. Sign me up for the next stage production of Bullshit and the Company it Keeps.”

She broke into laughter. “Come on, then. Let's go.”

The pair made their way back to the house using as hidden a path as they could manage. Dutch was standing on the back porch, so instead of finding anywhere to linger, they joined him. “Find anything?” he asked.

“No,” Star replied, eyes sweeping the party once more. “Lots of idle gossip. Some interesting racism. That's about it.”

Dutch eyes fell on her lip and then passed between the two of them. “What happened?”

“Just playing our parts.”

Arthur emerged from the house behind them, patting his chest pocket which made Dutch chuckle. Hosea came jogging up the stairs with a grin. “Gentlemen and lady, I believe we are done here,” he said.

“You got somethin'?”

“Oh, just a bit of somethin'.”

It made Star feel better knowing that it had not all been in vain. Even Bill seemed to have relaxed slightly.

“Good work. All of ya,” Dutch said as he led the way out. “What'd you find out, Hosea?”

“Well, there's plenty of money moves through here, of course, and I think I found out how we can grab some of it. A big bank. A real one. But not yet.”

“A city bank?”

“Maybe. And a stuffed one. If we're gonna leave, that could be the one thing we need.”

“There's also that trolley car station that Signor Bronte told us about, and I heard somethin' about a high stakes poker game.”

They emerged out the front door and made their way to collect their weapons. As they did so, Lenny pulled up with the carriage. “Alright, let's go home,” Dutch sighed, climbing in.

They all piled in, significantly more weary and quiet than when they had arrived. When she was finally sitting down, Star heaved a relieved sigh and leaned over against Bill. He put an arm around her, holding her close to him. To her surprise, he was the first to speak once they were underway.

“I ain't ever felt so awkward in all my life,” he said. “All those folk so pleased with themselves. Everybody thinkin' they're better'n everybody else. If you ask me, it's more like torture!”

Dutch nodded. “Well, that's sort of the point, isn't it: let the people torture themselves.”

“Here's them papers I took,” Arthur said, pulling them from his jacket pocket and handing them to Dutch.

“Anybody see you take this?”

“I don't think so.”

“Hm. I might have an idea. Let me think on it.”

The rest of the ride back to Shady Belle was silent.

#my writing #red dead redemption #red dead redemption 2 #bill williamson #bill williamson x oc #lashes #dutch van der linde #arthur morgan #hosea matthews #eagle flies

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dxmedstudent · 6 years

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my school offers a course on privilege & oppression and as someone who is an asian male i feel like i have the privilege of being a male which comes with its benefits but being asian also puts me at a disadvntage . i never really thought of this until i take this course but it's really opened my eyes to the concepts of privilege nad oppression. bc i love hearing your opinion on things (especially when you write long responses) what do these mean to you and what are your experience?

I’m proud that you’ve already given it some thought. It’s all just so... deep in most cultures, that it’s often hard to notice that people aren’t all treated equally and fairly. After all, if you’re not the one being unfairly treated, you might not even experience it at all, unless you really think about it. When things have been a particular way, a lot of people just don’t think about it because it’s the norm for them. But that doesn’t mean it’s not harmful, or that it’s OK.

I’ll put the rest behind a cut because this is both long, and also because this is the kind of conversation that ends up circulating on tumblr, so I’d rather keep it on my blog where there’s context for it.

You’re right; it’s perfectly possible (and common) to have privilege in some areas but be disadvantaged in others. And it’s a complex, global thing involving many axes or ways in which we differ in terms of how the system (or systems) leave us vulnerable. That’s why intersectionality is really important; we need to acknowledge that some people suffer from discrimination in many ways, and their situaiton is quite different from people who are privileged in some respects, even though they have some things in common. For example, the life of a black trans woman who happens to be a sex worker would be very different to the life of a middle-class white woman, so the second woman’s experiences should never be treated as universal. This goes for all sorts of things; ethnicity, race, language, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, class, disability, religion, and probably a host of things we could think up if we really thought about it. Privilege is many things, but I guess you can describe it as ‘the problems you don’t face’, because your privilege prevents you from having to deal with those things, whilst someone without that privilege doesn’t have that luxury. For example, in your case your experience as an Asian exposes you to racism I don’t experience, because my experience as a whitish Eastern European, whilst not always peachy, is different. We might both be ‘immigrants’, but the abuse handed out to people of colour, and especially black people are often far far worse; you just can’t compare my experiences with those of my friends of colour. As they are for immigrants who are deemed to be lower status or vulnerable; people whose English is still a work in progress, people in unstable employment, for example. So, the Polish cleaners (who look whiter than me, I’ll be honest) experience more abuse because they are vulnerable in other ways. My English accent and general middle-classedness matter in this context. Because the ways in which different ethnic groups have been stereotyped or treated has been different, the experiences we have differ wildly based on where we are, and the prejudices of the society we are in. However, you probably won’t have experienced the same things I have as a woman; the same constraints and fears and social pressures that I have. The pressures to have a career but also actively raise children, for example, and the judgement that comes with either. The pressure to dress in certain ways, or to live up to the image of what society tells us to is different depending on your gender.The very real ever-present spectre of sexual assault from strangers or loved ones is very different, depending on your gender. Many men might not plan their life around not being attacked when they are out at night. For example, my flatmate, a white man, gleefully walks home for hours from gigs or whatever at silly o clock with little thought or planning. I wish I could go through life with as little thought about my safety as most men seem to give it. Like, it doesn’t affect their dress, or their timetable, or their dates, or their way home? Intersectionalism is about recognising that we can be disadvantaged in some ways, and advantaged in others, and that the people who are most disadvantaged are usually in the most difficult situation and often have the least social power to make their issues known or have them addressed. So we need to work harder to ensure that they have a voice, and that we listen to them and encourage others to do so. The key is always to listen, and a space discussing oppression needs voices from all communities if it is to help them. So way back (was it my teens and early twenties?!) when I was spending time on feminst sites, I gravitated towards ones I knew had bloggers of colour and trans voices and people of different sexualities and ages and experiences. It’s not that those mostly run by white american women were bad as such; there was still some interesting discussion there, too. But it was that they focused on a much narrower range of issues and what it meant to be a woman. And my real education on my own privilege, and what I could do to help others, and what other people suffered, was from listening to the experiences of those more marginalised than myself. So you’re on a great journey, and you’re going to learn so much about so many great kinds of people, if you take the time to listen. There are lots of communities out there that take the time to explore these issues, and I recommend seeking them out; you’ll find places that feel right to you. But make sure they have diverse voices. It’s also a sad and angry journey; when you learn just how horrible things are for many people, you’re going to want to punch some walls and change the world (if you don’t already want to do both). Don’t punch walls, but do take that anger at injustice with you. People often complain that this means those with privilege are silenced, but I don’t think that’s true at all. It’s just that people with privilege about a topic usually don’t have much that is relevant to say; how can we talk about a problem we’ve not experienced? Doesn’t that sound kind of self-centred of us? It’s usually true that we need to listen first, to fully understand the topic. And that usually, the best expert on a particular topic is someone who is living the experience and has actual knowledge of it. It’s not to say people can’t ever speak about a topic; I’ve read some pretty enjoyable writing by male feminists who *get* it, and I’m not a believer in blanket statements that ‘people in X group can never have anything relevant to say’; they can, if they’ve given it deep thought and understand the limitations of their experience and stick to what they actually understand. Because we need people to work to address their own learned prejudices, and allowing for their thought or conversation in some contexts is a necessary part of that. In the right context. I want men to talk about women’s rights, for example. I want them to talk about how men around them have been sexist douchebags and how they are trying to call them out. I want them to reflect on how they are unlearning the problematic messages about women that they learned. I absolutely want us to talk about how gender roles also hurt men, and that these also need to be addressed. But here’s the vital part: it’s just important that this conversation isn’t used to derail conversations about women by women. And, for example, white people shouldn’t derail conversations about the ways POC are marginalised and disadvangaged and hurt. If you really think all lives matter, then you should absolutely agree that black lives matter and be listening to what they have to say about the ways in which they are being mistreated. It’d be great if more people who identify as cis or heterosexual thought about gender and sexuality rather than assuming defaults; I’d love to see people writing about dismantling their transmisogyny and homophobia and exploring how pervasive it is, and working to ensure that they are treating their LGBTQ friends supportively rather than hurting them through ignorance. But it’s not more important than the need for trans people and the LGBTQ community to be able to explore what their identity means to them, safely and without that conversation being taken over. And the list goes on. Society steeps us all in a stew of covert and not-so covert messages about people; it’s our job for our entire lives to try to undo anything hurtful and untrue that we’ve been led to believe. To question. To see the humanity in others. And to be kind; which means to help others as best as we can.

#askdx #ask dx #anonymous #anon #anons #asks #questions #dx dates #dxdates #dating

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roominthecastle · 6 years

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ethics, romance, sex: where’s Michael at? (nobody asked, rambling on my own accord)

Short version:

I think atm Michael’s character is markedly grey in these 3 “areas” of human experience. He’s started to shift away from his “old ways” and is now somewhere in-between. His “ethnical transition” is the most straightforward one and it can be used as a guide for speculation on possible shifts to romantic and sexual dimensions bc they are all parts of the larger reconceptualization process Michael’s been going through.

Long version: behind the cut

Michael’s an amoral being who was created for and, up until v recently, has existed w/ the singular purpose of inflicting pain on bad people. His human form is also meant to serve this very purpose. But he moves away from this “default setting”. He gains a new, more nuanced perspective that was previously inaccessible to him due to rules, norms, and customs. Living among human beings (the heart of his innovation) produces the wild card of transformative empathy and triggers a paradigm shift: the “gross insects” become close friends and the “stupid garbage” he’s initially forced to learn turns into a roadmap to a richer, more meaningful life.

“Stupid” and “gross” are keywords here, imo, bc they indicate Michael’s ingrained attitude: if it’s human, it’s reflexively considered primitive and disposable by his kind. This attitude is the norm and isn’t questioned by demons (tbh, it would be rather counter-productive for them to do so). But this “stupid and gross” seem to hold a covert interest, an inherent and genuine attraction to Michael. It’s the complete opposite of Trevor’s exaggerated sleazy overtures which still strike me as empty “all talk, no action” posturing, sth similar to when Janet briefly switched to “overt sexuality mode” despite having no real desire/interest or any relevant experience. It’s a function, a role to perform, part of the job. But to Michael, humans present a puzzling, stimulating otherness that invites close proximity and experimentation, which falls way way outside his job description.

This “repelling is also alluring” contradiction is nicely demonstrated on a small scale when Eleanor calls the white chocolate + shrimp combo nasty yet keeps eating it, or when she describes churro dogs to Michael and he responds w/ an excited “oh, sounds awful.” We know that given half a chance, he would try it. We know bc this is what happened on a much larger scale when he was given the opportunity to work as an architect: Neighborhood 12358W was born and he purposefully designed it in a way that granted him 24/7 close contact w/ “disgusting humans” and their gross ways.

His attitude towards human mouths is another interesting example that carries this contradiction:

“There are gonna be days when you're just sick of being around these disgusting humans, with their weird, gross little mouths, and their stupid elbows.” (201 - a rallying speech that I suspect is exaggerated but still serves to illustrate the basic demon’s view)

“Kissing is gross. You just mash your food holes together. It’s not for that.” (209)

And yet when we take a look at his small stash of human objects (106), we find wax lips that have sexual connotations (shiny, full, and red - they resemble the vulva) but are also edible and come w/ the “play now, chew later” tagline. Nice triple twist on the “mouths are for eating” sentiment. Michael also abruptly reverses his stance on kissing: gross suddenly turns exciting (hot diggity dog!). Granted, there may be other factors influencing this particular flip-flopping (I believe there are), but it’s still a solid example of the confusion created by the radical, ethics-infused reconceptualization process.

Michael starts to question things he never did before. He comes to regard humans in a fundamentally different way. He experiences the superiority of a species he always thought inferior and recognizes the inferiority of his own kind (Ya basic, Shawn.). In this sense, he plays Beauty in the tale as old as time who discovers that there’s more humanity in an allegedly primitive beast than in most of her fellow humans who mock her for the “crime” of being “different”. But the reverse is also true: being a demon, Michael also plays the Other/Beast. In the former scenario, Eleanor serves as the primitive Other/Beast being aided in her transformation, and in the latter, she’s Beauty who inspires transformation. Both work simultaneously and both result in an intimate understanding of one another, which opens the door to other areas of intimacy, i.e. those of romance and sex.

Feelings bloom whether we want them or not, but how we act on them (or not) is our choice. It’s impossible to tell the exact nature of Michael’s feelings atm. His actions indicate that love is already at work on at least a semi-conscious level but if it’s romantic love, there are way more reasons for him to keep it under wraps than there are reasons to confess. Same goes for sexual interest. Lack of overt interest does not equal lack of interest but to outside observers they can look identical, so, for now, canon is a question mark here. Another related question is, would he “cross the line” if there was encouragement from a partner, some guidance, and an opportunity to indulge? I think he definitely would w/ Eleanor, but it doesn’t mean there wouldn’t be obstacles or that he wouldn’t opt out later if he found it to be not to his liking.

I can see several options here but him rejecting romance and sex and having no interest there whatsoever just feel out of character to me given what we know about him and his past (see below). I still don’t think canon will ever go there, not in any overt, straightforward way, and it doesn’t have to, but this is still a very fertile and legitimate soil for shippers.

Michael is curious, loves experiments, and his core arc is about him shifting away from his original mode of existence which was marked by a lack of morality, meaning, and emotional/physical intimacy.

“Your lives aren’t meaningless. Everything on Earth counted for something. The same is not true here in the afterlife where I exist and have always existed. ... There is no ‘outside of work’. None of us exist outside our jobs. We have no homes, no hobbies, or relationships. We get the names of people to torture. We torture them. We get more names.” (204)

This isolated, (seemingly) aromantic and asexual existence just doesn’t feel to be a clear choice on his part but more like a result of not having an alternative to embrace (- sth he created for himself in form of his neighborhood perhaps?) If that’s the case, then I think there’s a good chance he harbors an interest in romance and sexuality, too, but it’s couched in reluctance/hesitance stemming from confusion, lack of experience, lack of a partner, initial aversion and, more recently, ethical issues. All of these are understandable but they are not binding or set in stone. He felt reluctance towards ethics, too, but he’s already moved somewhere between amoral and moral on that spectrum.

Michael finds reconceptualizing hard and disorienting, which is not at all surprising given how much he has to unlearn and recalibrate and discover still. Human ethics (a total buzzkill), human emotions (there are way too many), and human bodies (fragile, weird, and stupid) are alien to him, and it will take time to sort these new experiences and orient himself.

The matter of “human suit” is esp interesting bc it has direct relevance to the topic of sex.

“There are gonna be days when you're just sick of being around these disgusting humans, with their weird, gross little mouths, and their stupid elbows.” (201)

“Everyone in the Bad Place Bureau of Human Affairs gets randomly assigned a human body, so we can get the feel of how best to torture you. I gotta say it took me a long time to get used to the hanging bits. [Gross.] Oh get your mind out of the gutter, Eleanor. I was talking about my testicles.” (203)

“Let me just get into the mindset of a human. ‘Oh, I’m a human and my breathing tube is next to my eating tube. Oh, and look: my arms end in stupid little sticks.’” (204)

Demon anatomy and physiology are undoubtedly different from ours, which means that the appropriate form and function of various parts can significantly differ, including those involved in procreation and/or sexual acts (if demons even have any of those but given their “lifestyle” they may not). Michael’s in an alien body w/ weird parts that don’t look and function the way demon parts do + up until now his only interest in human anatomy has had to be to find ways to cause pain, so the fun potential in pleasure-focused experimentation is sky-high w/ the right partner (and if there’s one human who would ride a demon, that’s Eleanor) + making love to a human is the most radical thing Michael could do w/ his “human suit” tbh. And giving himself over to selfless love felt towards a human is the most radical thing he can do w/ his soul, which is already happening, imo.

Michael’s initial dismissal of human-y stuff is a product of his original indoctrination and “culture shock”, not of a set of immutable attributes. It also comes pre-mixed w/ latent fascination and begins to weaken due to exposure, “deprogramming”, and an innate quality other demons do not seem to possess. I mean, when he notices the crude erotic drawings in Kant’s journal, his eyes linger on the page only to conclude that this is an “interesting guy.” No longer stupid and gross but...interesting.

The idea of studying human ethics felt insane to him in the beginning bc it was so radically un-demon-y to do, so it’d be understandable if embracing human ideas and practices of romance and physical pleasure felt similarly jarring at first. It doesn’t mean he can’t or won’t (or hasn’t) develop(ed) an interest, esp. after having been exposed to stimuli and companionship of which he was entirely deprived before. If he’s developed some interest already, it also makes sense that it’s not advertised: he doesn’t have a teacher to guide him here, he’s seen what happened to Janet when she spiralled down this road, there are also way more pressing matters to focus on, and the most likely target of his interest is already “taken” anyway and must remain so.

I don’t think Michael will ever move out of the “grey zone” he currently occupies (or maybe it’s just my personal preference talking bc I love the grey), but that’s okay bc this grey has so many exciting shades and they are a lot of fun w/o being explicitly in-your-face.

#the good place #michael tgp #michael x eleanor #musings #tgp wank #q

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