#b23 spoilers | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emmawang · 3 years

Text

Week 5: El Paquete Semanal

The sparks of inspiration kindled me this very ordinary morning when I was brushing my teeth and listening to my subscribed uploader in Bilibili, a Chinese version of YouTube. This uploader, consisted of two girls, calls the pair “let’s chat something.”

Their black and white profile photo without any facial organs seems self-assuming and even intimidating at the first glance. What might they chat about? Local feminist practices? Dark fairy tales?

Yet quite jubilant as they are, their contents are mostly BL-novel recommendations. Their videos usually follow these steps: one will chat about character settings of the protagonists, plot spoiler warning, plots, ending with comments from the other girl.

BL, the acronym for Boys’ Love, is a genre of fictional media featuring homoerotic relationships between male characters. Originating from Japan as the Yaoi culture (or Fujoshi culture, Fujoshi as the female consumers of BL), this fad came to China in the late 1990s with an increase in popularity in the 2010s.

Just like locals in Cuba have limited access to the Internet, so is BL media suppressed in China. In 2015, laws prohibiting depictions of same-sex relationships in television and film were implemented in China. Reasons behind the prohibition include anti-pornography, violation of copyrights, and protection of masculine hegemony. Of course, these laws cannot stop Fujoshi from creating and seeking their entertainment. So where can they go?

I put together a ‘Paquete Semanal’ for Chinese Fujoshi. 😊

The official account of “let’s chat something” in Bilibili: https://b23.tv/DjHQAK

I put their videos in the weekly package, because (1) they update weekly so my consumers can chase them as a series (2) their videos help form the sense of solidarity in the Fujoshi community with bullets comments from other viewers.

2. Literature: http://www.jjwxc.net/

Jinjiang, a website hosting vast amounts of literature, is the nest for famous Fujoshi writers and sensational IPs (Intellectual Property.) Literature ranked top deserve spots in the ‘Paquete Semanal.’

3. Erotica: https://i.haitangshuwu.com/

Although JJ is a go-to web for BL novels, you can see from the bottom of the web that it is under government censorship. After all, who does not love pornography, and the spice of trespassing laws?

4. Manga: https://yandanshe.com/blwj/

But BL manga webs all face this danger of coercive shut-up once spotted by government censorship. Some will change names or IP addresses, while some just vanish forever.

5. Radio dramas: https://www.guangboju.org/bl/

6. Films: https://www.soupan8.com/file/31968597

Unfortunately, no websites are curated for BL films, but well-known films, for example, Addicted 上瘾, Guardian 镇魂, The Untamed 陈情令, are attainable via Baidu pan. An insider with knowledge of the latest BL films is needed to fulfil this downloading mission.

7. Anime: http://danm8.com.cn/forum.php

8. Community: https://sakura-bbs.top/

9. Music: https://www.bilibili.com/video/BV1ns411U7VW/ and https://music.163.com/#/album?id=2092772&userid=9216686

10. Game: https://blgamesworld.net/

This should go together with instructional tutorials to install the game.

11. Dōjinshi: cosplays and birthday celebration pictures for characters. Writers will post pictures not included in the books for special occasions on platforms including Twitter, Sakura Community, etc. This reminds me of a huge problem, how to establish more interactive communications between Fujoshi and BL media producers, just based on a Flash-drive. Surely, I can follow demanded writers on Twitter and screenshot their moves, but the communication will always be delayed and intermediated.

12. To solve the problem above, VPN is necessary. Technology: https://www.szh47j.com/REWWSNU

13. For books that one really loves and just wants to hold the paper book in hand, (Taiwan) websites that sell comics: https://www.kingstone.com.tw/ and https://www.books.com.tw/web/sys_cebbotm/cebook/1503?loc=menu_th_784_002

14. Manga Apps: http://app.blmh.win/

15. News: https://weibo.com/p/1008086265fb47fff26a2d6bd2540d6c440afe/super_index#_loginLayer_1633555794223

Putting the content above together challenged me, for I realized in my process how limited knowledge I have of the Fujoshi community. Because the products of BL media include different types, I tried to stand in their shoes to exhaust my imagination of what or how they may consume. Another challenge is: I run out of links, even knowing there must be more content. The human resources and information exchange needed for such infrastructure building are beyond my competence. ‘Paquete Semanal’ is a brilliant individual idea as well as communal efforts. Specialists in certain types of media searching and network of collection and distribution are essential in forming the weekly package in an organized and timely manner. Like said in the video, “it’s a business.”

References:

Davis, Rebecca (5 June 2020). "China's Gay Rights Stance Can't Derail Demand for LGBT Films". Variety.

2 notes · View notes

immortalcockroach · 6 years

Photo

THE END IS JUST A BAD DREAM | BELLARKE, MODERN AU

Bellamy Blake has many bad habits, but his worst is falling for girls he can't have.

At twenty-four, Bellamy’s life consists of bars, gigs, park benches and—if he’s lucky—friend’s couches. It’s been two years since his life shattered into pieces around him and he still hasn’t started picking them up.

For two years, Bellamy’s been good. Good stops being enough when he meets Clarke, a girl whose life is in the process of shattering, and somehow the two of them collect their own pieces to help the other, and themselves in the process.

For all it’s worth, Clarke is off limits – but it might be this time that his bad habit is truly stopping him from getting the glue that would finally mend his life.

This was inspired by the Coen brothers’ Inside Llewyn Davis. It’s an indie drama about a folk artist who has a horrible love life and is homeless and some elements are going to feature in this fic. If you’ve seen it, then you know exactly what kind of mood I’m going for with this fic.

Now, this is a mature fic. I’m fairly certain there will be no smut, but it’s mature as it’s dealing with topics such as homelessness, alcoholism, depression, PTSD, and abortion. These trigger warnings are spoilery, yes, but I want to make sure no one reading the fic is uncomfortable with these subjects.

Fret not, this isn’t an entirely dark fic, but these themes are important so I just needed to get that out there. I’m trying to approach this as seriously as possible. But I mean, Bellamy’s great with his guitar (he plays rock) and he’s definitely going to serenade Clarke at some point. (Spoiler: it’s in the very first chapter.)

So far, there’s only one chapter and since this fic is what I like to consider the most important thing I’ve written in my life, I’ll try to write some more before beginning to post it. Also, I’m currently looking for betas for this so if you read the first chapter and think this might be up your alley, message me.

Below the cut is an excerpt and all the lovely tagged people.

THE END IS JUST A BAD DREAM

‘dirty fingernails, same as your mind, but he could strum the guitar just fine, every now and then he’d think about his life, daydreamin’ just to pass the time’

His fingers slide across the neck of the guitar, the tips hard and rough from a lifetime spent on the strings. They change positions and the chords like dancers, applying pressure in all the right places. The other hand strums the same strings with a black, leather guitar pick in a dazing rhythm. On the verses, the pick rests and his fingers slide between the strings, tugging at them in an elaborate, dark manner. His voice is hoarse, deep and lazy, captivating in the way it soaks in emotion during some parts, and is dry at others.

Shaggy hair and worn out clothes, he is just the type of person who plays at the pub, unnoticed by any of the guests. There is nothing memorable about him, from his week-old stubble and greasy hair, grey shirt with tiny holes throughout it and his leather jacket with as many patches as there are years behind him, to his decades-old guitar accompanied by his melodic voice that blends in with the chatter, as if arising from within the dark walls of the bar.

He finishes the set and few people clap. There’s beer already waiting for him at the bar and he sits down, watching as a kid in his late teens takes his spot, still a bright, nervous smile on his face. He greets the crowd, cheerfully, his face falling when hardly a head so much as turns in his direction.

The guy at the bar takes a sip of his beer, looking away from him when the kid begins his set, a dark smile creeping onto his lips. He slouches, both elbows on the wooden countertop, one hand laying on it with fingers tapping in the upbeat rhythm of the boy’s song, and the other holding a beer to his lips, never setting it down.

One of the boys who works here as an all-in-one approaches him with an almost empty tin. He takes it, throws all the money on the bar and gives the tin back to the boy, staring at the few coins without a word.

That barely amounts to twenty dollars, and that’s if he’s lucky. Five one-dollar bills, one fiver, and several dozen coins. He scoops it all up except for the fiver, sliding them into the one pocket of his jeans that doesn’t have a hole at the bottom. It clangs against his beat-up, five-years-old phone.

He listens to the people. Most of the chatter is incomprehensible from the distance and blends together, like white noise for his thoughts. Some things he can pick apart, though – the voices he’s heard in more than a dozen visits to the Bunker, gigs or not. They talk about shitty politics like the rednecks they are, or complain about the weather or politics upstate. They whine about their wives and bad beer and neighbours who shoot their rifles at odd hours in the night, and praise hunting.

Some of his songs, he picked up here. They are snippets of conversations between life-long friends, or a man whose mistress had just found out she’s the other woman. Occasionally, people come here after they have been broken up with, and he listens, creating songs about them inside his head.

By the time he finishes his beer, the kid is just taking a break in the middle of a set. It’s his first time, judging by the lack of blood in his face and his feet shaking as he stands beside him, asking for a glass of water.

The kid looks at him. “You were great.”

All he gets is an empty glass of beer raised in a toast.

“Bellamy,” says the girl behind a bar, in a tender voice. “You should get some rest.”

The bartender is leaning against the bar, looking at him with the curves of her lips turned upwards. Her smile reaches her eyes and the look makes him not let his eyes wander to her chest, which is showing the slightest bit of skin.

Her smile drops a little and there’s the slight wrinkle between her brows when she frowns, studying him. “If you need somewhere to—”

Before she can finish, he slides her the fiver.

He doesn’t wait for the change. The night outside the bar is cold and harsh, cold wind nipping at his nose already. He wraps his scarf around his lower part of the face and tucks his hands into the pockets, his guitar hanging off his shoulder in its case.

His pace is slow, prolonging the walk to the park for about three, four minutes. He’s humming to himself the songs he never plays, and his fingers strum inside his pockets. There’s an old Johnny Cash song that crosses his mind next and when he closes his eyes, his shaky lips flutter even more. His leg muscles ache and his feet are swollen so when he finally reaches the park, he props them up on a bench he’s sitting on.

It’s a quiet park. It’s even quieter now, at nearly midnight on a Tuesday, when most residents are asleep or in the comfort of their homes, if they aren’t drinking themselves senseless while people, like him, sing to them. Polis is not really big for a park, so from where he’s sitting, in the very heart of it, he can almost see its every edge. There are wooden benches scattered around the place and several sycamore trees planted in ideal spots for people to sit under them, or have the whole view of Arkadia.

Now, these benches are slowly being covered in a thin layer of snow, soon to turn the park into a winter wonderland.

A few benches from him sits a girl. She’s wearing a crimson set of a beanie, scarf, gloves, and a black coat, shielding her face from him. Her hands venture into her pocket and take out a paper tissue, which she uses to blow her nose – not in the way people do when they’re cold. He then notices it’s far from the only tissue around her.

He’s never known how to deal with crying girls who aren’t his sister. This one isn’t his problem, but he can’t help thinking if she’s here, crying on a Tuesday night, maybe she’s just alone as he is – even though her clothes tell him she’s not in the same situation as he is.

So he does the only thing he’s good at – he takes out his guitar and strums it.

For a while, his fingers are playing a song of their own. His mind is wandering and he doesn’t know what to play for her. He’s bad at covering songs and none of his own seem appropriate, so he lets his brain go to a different place.

He’s not worried about her. He doesn’t particularly care, either. It’s simply that he’s cold and playing the guitar is going to warm him up, and she gets a free show.

i’m tagging people who might be interested (and i couldn’t tag everyone for whatever reason): @the-most-beautiful-broom @283livesforone @starrydilemma @ivegotyoufor-that @diyozaa @sunnyemori @sjh-07-10 @kickthatassgirl @youve-got-a-big-heart @batdonthavenicknamecallmequinn @brooke-b23 @shadowheron2013 @octannibal-blake @clarkegriffintitties @divergentseagreengirl @isaweetdreamworld @veeshthefrog @halfbloodduchess @bella-my-blake @meh-g @megggggglmao @b3ach-waves @bellarke-stydia-olicity @forevery0ungggg @autumnessprime @aromanticcomedies @garfieldyke @mommabeargriffin @claire3534

75 notes · View notes