#cultural change
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Should've Worn Green
Happy St. Patrick's Day! Figured I couldn't miss the best Irish Tf day of the year eh? Best! -Occam
Charles didn’t account for the drunks storming the streets today when he was getting ready this morning. Why should he have to step out of his way to avoid getting beer spilled on him. Nevertheless perhaps the accountant should have checked the calendar before wandering into the streets without wearing a hint of green.
Such a blunder would not long go unpunished however. Compact as he is, he nimbly ducks out of the way of glasses clinking in brutish hands raised high. He scoffs at their total disregard for sanitation as they spill beer all over each other in the cheers. Barely avoiding getting drenched himself Charles bumps into a figure who drunkenly laughs before reaching out towards him.
“Aye! Shoulda worn green lad! ‘S St. Paddys!” He shouts as he pinches the already frustrated clerk who yelps and slaps at the hand. Not even pausing to dignify the man with a verbal response, he pushes forward to not be late for work.
He stumbles onward, reaching the edge of the crowd and finally takes a break. In the scarcely fresher air, his stomach lurches and he leans onto a building to avoid falling over. His shoulder itches as he almost feels what can only be described as vertigo? He looks over the crowd angrily, sure that they are to blame for whatever this episode is, contemplating going back toward whoever assaulted him but every face in the crowd is impossibly similar. Jesus, he’s never seen so many redheads in one place?
Wondering if he’s somehow woken up in Ireland proper he feels a breeze on his midriff. Not only has his shirt been untucked but the skin exposed suggests it never could have been tucked in the first place. It’s as if he’s grown half a foot. Charles starts hyperventilating, trying to convince himself his shirt must have shrunk in the wash, though surely he would have seen his exposed belly button when he put it on no?
He again looks towards the crowd seeking anything to blame for his state. This makes it evident that he has grown indeed, now able to directly make eye contact with men in the crowd. There is a draft on his ankles as his increasing height only becomes more difficult to deny. Charles clenches his jaw as his eyes find the man who simply must be the culprit.
In the middle of the mass of Paddy’s day parishioners, he sees a man staring directly at him, a smirk edging out from under his thick beard. He raises a large glass of Guinness in cheers and Charles can’t help but stare at the man in turn, his anger quickly being replaced by confusion. He winks, the glass still raised, as Charles stumbles backwards trying to avert his eyes. They forcibly return to this man each time taking in a new facet of his impossibly masculine body. The jungle of hair in his pits draws him in as if there’s a fire in his still-raised arm. His powerful chest is covered in a similar forest of beyond dense red hair.
Charles, unbeknownst to himself, continues to hungrily stare at the statuesque man as the pitch-black coif on his own head begins to bleach as a red tint starts to force its way up from his roots. He scratches at his face wondering how he forgot to shave before work. Oh, work? He needs to get to work right? His eyes retreat from the specimen to check his watch. He raises his arm to check his watch creating a tear in his suit as his bicep involuntarily flexes. His face reddens just as his hair continues to do, his anger towards the crowd returns as they have clearly forced him to not only be late to work, but to arrive wearing less than his prestigious work demands of him.
Before enacting whatever meager retribution his increasingly muddy mind decides he looks up to see the mysterious man approaching him through the crowd. His body involuntary clenches in fear, each instinctual flex creating new tears in his workday attire. His chest bursts into existence shooting his shirt’s buttons far into the dancing crowd. Tears appear down the length of his dress pants revealing tight briefs barely hanging together underneath. He rips off the rest of his suit jacket lest it impede him as he prepares to bolt from the rapidly approaching giant, though with each surge of growth coursing through Charles the man seems less menacing and massive, and more familiar.
He again scratches at his shoulder as he begins to notice that someone in the crowd desperately needs a shower. At least he thinks it's the crowd, he looks towards his own pits questioning his cleanliness and sees pits with thin dark hairs. But that can’t be right? Surely they should be red like all his other hair. He flexes his pecs and watches the ginger hair on his torso dance in the morning sun. Laughing before he returns his attention to his pits that are rapidly agreeing with his assessment and growing thick and red, they also make it clear that the sudden stink in the air could be no one but him.
It’s chill though Charles thinks, he’s been partying all morning with the guys, he’s sure they’ll get it. Smirking to himself not even noticing how swiftly he has assimilated to being one of the parishioners that have taken over the block. As he stands there, his red pubes increasingly showing above his crotch as his briefs are weighed down with each growing pulse in his crotch.
Finally the smirking Irishman who started it all makes his way over shouting, “Ay Charlie! Yer gunna have to cover up ya! Shame we’re not Scots or I’d toss ye a kilt, Ha! And ‘Ere lad don’t be standing around without a drink in hand.” He tosses a large cup at Charlie who catches it, though losing the head as it splashes all over him, matting his ginger curls to his chest and revealing the most intricate details of his still-growing bulge.
Charlie cheers at the man who must be a friend, or at least a countryman, before quickly starting to down the tankard. As he swallows the swill he swiftly loses whatever smidge of himself that remained in this northern paragon of a body. His chest fills out with a bit of weight as beer trickles down the beard expanding further down his face. As he swallows his voice develops into an impossible to mistake accent. It’s just, didn’t he have something to do today? His brown eyes sparkle as they brighten to a green bright enough to be in the tricolor as he laughs. What could he have to do today more important than celebrating his home country! America is fine and all that but fwoh, could certainly stand to be more like his homeland. Charlie, tired of thinking so much on a day like this, gives into a primal urge of celebration and joins the bacchanal. Charles Morris would not arrive to push whatever buttons and keys he was supposed to at work that day. But Charlie Mulligan was having the greatest time of his life, as he would continue to do evermore.
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There's no 'I' in TEAM
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Studying linguistics is actually so wonderful because when you explain youth slang to older professors, instead of complaining about how "your generation can't speak right/ you're butchering the language" they light up and go “really? That’s so wonderful! What an innovative construction! Isn't language wonderful?"
#linguistics#gen z slang#english#as people in the reblog pointed out!#most gen z slang comes from (or was appropriated from) aave#honestly I was just excited to talk about how people in my field actually get excited about non standard uses of English#instead of ridiculing speakers#and I tagged incorrectly and didn’t point out the very real issues of language and power and appropriation inherent in modern slang#in that much of it was appropriated#and even that which experiences language change in the wider culture still originated in aave#aave is just as linguistically valid as any other English dialect because it is a proper language#and the grammar is incredible!!!#habitual be is fantastic and an excellent example of how a richer case system or a certain case can render an adverb unnecessary#and the phonology is just beautiful#anyway I’m very sorry#I fucked up
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I do sort of wish western anime fans would analyze anime and manga from a framework of japanese historical and cultural context. Specifically a lot of works from the 90s being influenced by the general aimlessness and ennui that a lot of people were experiencing due to the burst in the bubble economy and the national trauma caused by the sarin terrorist attack. I think in interacting with media that’s not local to our sociocultural/sociopolitical sphere it’s easy to forget that it’s influenced and shaped by the same kinds of factors that influence media within our own cultural dome and there ends up being this baseline misalignment of perception between the causative elements of a narrative and viewer interpretation of those elements. It’s a form of death of the author that i think, in some measure, hinders our ability to fully understand/come to terms with creator intent and the full scope of a work’s merits
#exilley's diary#this is about utena btw like. yeah its feminist and a coming of age horror story but also#it was in part ikuhara’s response to the changes he observed in the corporate anime industry and an attempt to subvert those trends#it doesnt really help that i feel certain aspects of the show are filtered through translation and certain cultural emphasises are lost#like for instance. the blood type symbolism. or wakaba’s gestures with making packed lunches#theyre incredibly japanese expressions of conventional gender roles that non-japanese audiences might not fully resonate with
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I want to post this here too because I’ve seen it happen a few times
Please understand that there are cultural differences and language differences, if you see this happening let the person clarify what they meant, that person might just not be familiar with words the western side of the internet use
#bearz rambling tag#no it’s not really possible to let everyone who uses this term to change#because as far as I know this is the most common word with use on Chinese websites#I didn’t know that pairing are called ‘ship’ here#like why would I even know that#‘ship’ makes zero sense to me#it took me a while to learn the fandom language people speak here#it’s hard#give people time#shipping culture is very different too#Like on Chinese site you HAVE to clarify the Top and the Bottom of this ship in the ship name#it is very very important to them#people who like the same ship but with different Top Bottom preference will fight till no end#imagine how confused I was when I first got here#where there’s no top bottom differences#it’s not really a smut thing#it’s more a dynamic thing#AxB and BxA is very different#oh I can talk so much about the differences on fandom cultures#if ya are interested in more please feel free to ask#it’s very interesting to me#I wanna talk about it
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paramount and spyglass are trying so hard right now to save face because jenna ortega rightfully left the scream franchise after they fired melissa for supprting palestine. nobody is dumb enough to believe the excuse that it’s a scheduling conflict hours after rumors she was trying to get out of her contract cause she was pissed. i’m very thankful that jenna is risking her career and using her position to do the right thing. she’s been outspoken about palestine for years now. i hope this begins a trend of zionist losing money for their support and complacency with an active genocide
#free palestine#scream#jenna ortega#melissa barrera#i won’t be surprise if other cast members leave the project#many have been outspoken for years but few have the cultural capital jenna has#i love this cast and this franchise but the right thing to do is boycott future scream content unless it changes hands to people who#wont support war crimes#it takes remarkably little of me to give up a media i love while actual people are dying daily#the carpenter sisters make me so proud 💗#melissa has since been posting nonstop about palestine and i’m just endlessly proud of her#💗💗💗
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The processes indicated include political, economic, social and cultural changes, all interacting with one another.
"Frankenstein's Footsteps: Science, Genetics and Popular Culture" - Jon Turney
#book quote#frankenstein's footsteps#jon turney#nonfiction#modernity#politics#political change#economics#economic change#society#social change#culture#cultural change#change#intersectionality#interactions#the times they are a changin'
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we need to destroy the idea that girls should wear makeup. normalize bare faces on prom queens and flower girls and cheerleaders. no products at all instead of '7 product simple makeup routine.' no more 10 step skincare and regular facials and dermablading and gua sha just to be comfortable with yr natural face. i want to see eye bags on the funny librarian and acne on the swim coach and wrinkles on all our adult role models. i want to see a 16 year old girl that has never tried putting on eyeshadow. i want to see a 7 year old girl who doesn't have to go out and buy powder for her dance recital. i want to see trans women and girls everywhere to never have to wear makeup, regardless of how well they 'pass.' no more 'contouring to look masc' either. a post-beauty industry world is possible
reblogs are on but if you bring up the stage makeup point that i have addressed three times yr blocked on sight ☹️
#this is me warding myself against the b arbie m ovie shitstorm. </3#too many teenage girls have had 'bimbo feminist' thrust upon them by the attention economy + consumer-feminist culture#its ok to just be fucking lame. like you can still be fem/me and stuff while doing it#there is a world where you can feel comfortable in yrself even if you arent Aesthetic#the makeup industry is trying to hinder this tho#plus i saw that post thats like. 'the reason we see a lot of casual pseudo-gender-essentialist and choice feminism rhetoric...#... is because we have fewer posts now that have basic feminist messages'#that resonated so i am the change i want to see in the world#i wanna try and make a r iot g rrrl masterpost for anyone getting into that side of things later so lmk if you want to see it
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Ramadan Recitations
Here's a Arab/Muslim Cultural TF, figured I may as well throw it up for Eid! May not be for everyone, but may those who enjoy have at it! Happy Eid! -Occam
It’s the end of March and Allen’s roommate has been listening to the Quran out loud for the length of Ramadan. He’s out of town for the weekend and Allen is uncomfortable sitting alone in the silence of their apartment. Now that he hasn’t heard the consistent background melodies of a recitation in a couple days he realizes what delight they brought him. He goes to find the playlist that Mo had been using. Suddenly feeling the golden cross that hangs from his neck everyday he briefly reconsiders before deciding to put on the recitation anyway. Jesus is in the Quran right? It’s not like there’s any harm to appreciating someone else’s culture.
Assuming Mo wouldn’t mind Allen using his speakers he throws on the Tilawa, Mo would be playing it now himself anyway. Allen starts to work as the reciter begins his melodic reading. He almost tunes it out as he starts reading and responding to emails in their shared living room. His body sits at ease as the rhythm of the man’s speaking reverberates through him.
Allen doesn’t speak a word of Arabic, but as he continues to type up droll responses to even duller emails he finds himself paying more attention to the verses than work that he needs to get done. As his distraction rises he tabs away from work and decides to take a break and see what exactly the verses that he’s so fond of are saying. He scans a translation but his eyes glaze over as he remembers Mohammad telling him that to really understand the words of the prophet one must read in his tongue.
Instead Allen just decides to just close his eyes and listen to the deep melodies of the mother tongue. The patterns and unfamiliar tonality provide him a comfort he doesn’t understand. He listens and the song only grows sweeter to his ears, he lies back against the couch as he begins to hum along uncertainly to the music. Allen harmonizes better by the second as he feels some sense of understanding over the distinctively not western scales, however he doesn’t notice as the chain of his necklace breaks, falling to the floor. He doesn’t hear the cross hit the floor instead remaining focused on his serene enjoyment of the man singing scripture to him.
Continuing to hum along, Allen notices that despite trying to keep a steady note, his tone seems to be getting deeper. He clears his throat and finds it’s not only his humming but his voice entire that has lowered in pitch. He rises from his serene reverie to go and find some medicine worried now that he is coming down with the flu. Standing he also notices that the temperature seems as if it’s rising in the apartment as well. Allen goes to grab some medicine, under his breath saying “inshallah I’m not sick eh?” Mo had been teaching him Arabic for some time now, but he always avoiding using it, Inshallah in particular since so many kids who certainly don’t appreciate Arabic culture are throwing it around. At this moment though Allen says it as if it’s an instinct, as if he has been using the language for some time.
Walking to a medicine cabinet Allen doesn’t notice as the volume increases on the speakers to still reach his ears. Words continue to steadily flow into his mind, standing in front of the cabinet he finds alongside the still increasing warmth there is a soreness starting to appear through the whole of his body. He groans in his deeper voice, feeling his Adam’s apple rest strangely on his throat as he tries to stretch out his soreness. It’s like he hit the gym this morning, though he certainly has not. He takes deep slow breaths as he bends down to work out the pain in his legs and torso, unaware as his body begins to lengthen in height. He feels the aircon blow up his shirt as his midriff is now exposed, he pulls it down in vain before reaching to grab medicine, accidentally overshooting thanks to his added height.
Allen makes his way back to the living room, dry swallowing his flu medicine before sitting back down to enjoy his repose. This time not only does he have an instinctual understanding of the melody and rhythm, but he finds himself knowing what words are to come next in the verses. Surely he hasn’t heard recitations that much right? He doesn’t even speak the language how could he possibly, nevertheless he starts whispering under his breath the words he feels should be next and finds himself right on the money. His whispering slowly grows in volume as he finds himself beginning to sing along with the tapes, “Bismillah al-Rahman al-Rahim…” he continues on with the verse, singing as if classically trained.
He shoves his hand over his mouth in shock and finds another surprise awaiting him on his face. He is perpetually clean-shaven for work and yet all of a sudden there is stubble growing on his face. Allen rushes to the restroom to inspect his face and finally finds something impossible happening to him. He sees the roots of his hair growing darker, pushing thicker out from his head. Not only has he suddenly grown stubble but the scruff on his face is rapidly approaching a full beard. As he clutches at his hair and beard in inspection he finds that the changes are not isolated to his face.
He sees his arms stretch further from his shirt than they did this morning and feels the awkward gaps on his waist and ankles, and feels the air blow against the dark hairs beginning to spread up his stomach and legs. He sees hair thicker than his pubes begin to grow on his wrists spreading indeterminably up his arms. The reciter’s voice grows stronger as Allen inspects himself, his eyes racing from one part of his body to another seeking any sign of normality. He feels an itch in his pits and on his chest as the song rises in pitch and volume. There is a drive in his chest to continue singing along but as he makes eye-contact with himself in the mirror, seeing the blue eyes he’s always loved swiftly staining themselves the color of coffee before darkening even further he knows that there can be no explanation for this other than that man’s voice.
He clenches his jaw to keep himself quiet as he races through the living room to shut off the speakers. His longer legs trip over themselves as each frantic breath he takes begins to expand his chest. Beyond the physical changes to his body he feels a change begin to take root in his mind. Allin feels he must be big, he must be strong. It is as Allah wills it. He stumbles in front of the speakers as he finds himself torn on what to do. He sees his arms darken under the still growing forest of hair on his arms, his biceps tearing his sleeves as they tan. Growing chest hair tickling his shirt he feels muscle surge from his chest as he raises his hand to yank the speakers from the wall.
The voice of the man singing grows to a din as it is joined by a chorus of other voices within Alin’s head. Thousands of recitations, of songs, the Quran and countless Hadith surge into his mind in a horrible cacophony. He yanks the power cord from the wall and the dissonant symphony within his mind vacates. And Alin is once more left alone with himself, his ears ringing and his vision blotchy. Slowly recovering and laying on the floor he begins to hear himself groan through the tinnitus. Even his moaning sounds changed as the man begins to lose his English vocabulary to learn the only tongue that shall truly matter to him now, that of the sacred book.
He whines to himself switching between eloquent Arabic vulgarities and English more accented by the second, he sees a cross necklace next to him, calling out quite loudly, “Madha? What is this?” Must be a prank from Mo, ach he needs to work on his material eh. Sitting alone in the living room Alin tries to think of what to do to distract himself, both from the silence surrounding him and from the flood of information storming in his head. Suddenly everything becomes simpler when he decides to just do what he always does, turning to the East Alin sees Mo’s prayer rug, always lying out for convenience’s sake. Alin grimaces and briefly considers phoning Mo for his lack of dedication, but upon seeing the skintight outfit he is wearing to pray he reconsiders. He should focus on correcting himself before fretting over even his friend.
Alin closes his eyes once more, languishing in the quiet for one moment before he begins his own, his deep voice ringing out as he sings verse in praise, “Ah, Allahu Akbar.” His chest growing to hold more breath and his pecs begin to surge large enough to honor Allah with his body. He hugs his stomach as he continues “Subhanakal-lahumma wabihamdika-” He feels his biceps pull against his massive chest and almost smirks as he thinks about them, he feels an urge, a desire to flex the them before clicking his tongue at himself to stay on task.
“Subhanna rabbeeyal adheem-” he bends down, feeling his thighs and ass push out behind him, ripping large tears into his pants At the same time Alin sees the bulge in his pants grow larger, popping his zipper and escaping from his pants. He sharply inhales as he feels everything is suddenly more intense. He feels his body grow beyond the limits of his clothes. He feels his already larger cock begin to grow erect and Alin, continues to sing “Rabbana walakal hamd-”
Finally he prepares to do his favorite part of Rakats, he gets to his knees before fully prostrating himself. Continuing the prayer as he feels his beard grow heavier on his face. His forehead touches the floor and he smiles, feeling a warm itch in his crotch as his briefs strain to contain him, pubes spilling out every way, “Subhanna rabbeeyal ‘alaa”
He rises back to seating, the motion creating an intense pang of pleasure throughout his body as he struggles to maintain control of his senses. He ekes out, “Rabbigh-fir lee…” becores cumming in his briefs. He finishes the Rakat in his solid pants before promptly leaving to regain his dignity and change into actual prayer appropriate attire, changing into a thobe and doing two Rak’a ending with a Tashahhud as one is to do.
Ali smiles as he sits in reflection having finally quieted the chaos within his mind. He feels his strong body hidden under the thobe and comforted in his time spent worshiping. His final thoughts before he decides to do another round of Rak’a is a conviction to thank Mo for sending him that playlist of Quranic Recitations. He does not know who he would be without it. Inshallah he shall get the chance to bring his light to others. He rubs his hands down his powerful body as he stands. Wallah, they don't know what they’re missing.
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In fact, nonreproductive sexual activities, including homosexual behaviors, may have contributed to the development of a number of significant cultural "milestones": hallmarks of evolutionary and cultural change that are considered to be defining characteristics of "humanness", yet which also exist in prototypical form in some of our primate relatives (and presumably also in our protohuman ancestors).
"Biological Exuberance: Animal Homosexuality and Natural Diversity" - Bruce Bagemihl
#book quote#biological exuberance#bruce bagemihl#nonfiction#homosexuality#gay#lesbian#milestones#culture#humanness#evolutionary change#cultural change#primates#relatives#protohumans#ancestors
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let her go
#homestuck#vriska serket#terezi pyrope#vriska#terezi#vrisrezi#mic_art#screencap redraw of that one utena scene woohoo#vrisrezi and utenanthy dont share many similarities but there are some interesting parallels that can be drawn#like theyre all characters who are devoted to the respective roles they think they have#utena needs to be a prince and vriska needs to be a hero#terezi needs to cast vriska as the villain so that she can be the one to bring her to justice while anthy#is resigned to her role as the rose bride and is cast as a witch by others (and herself in a way...) to justify her suffering#im too tired to put into words all the other shit rattlign around in my brain but something something vriska society violence princes utena#something interesting to note is that in the rgu stabbing scene utena is walking to the left while is hs vriskas walking to the right#which i think is mostly a cultural difference due to english being read left to right while japanese is read right to left#changing which direction is percieved as forward#which could be read further into but could also just be the natural flow of the scene or whateevr#idk i need to peruse ohtori.nu again i looooove reading utena essays
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I think it's incredibly important to remind folks on testosterone or folks who want to reverse patterned baldness about their options, but man, does it sometimes suck wondering how much of our insecurities about our hair stem from backwards beliefs that to strive towards beauty is not only preferable but "makes you good."
As someone with a rather masculinized body pre-medical transition, patterned baldness has always seemed neutral. Hair is incredibly important (hell, much of my own energy is spent on my hair because I like it), but the pressure to have hair, to have hair the "right way" is something that I absolutely loathe.
I'm not here to judge people who don't want patterned hair loss or baldness, I'm here to say that those traits will never make you lesser. Not only is it neutral, but it is also just as worthy and beautiful.
#trans#transgender#lgbt#lgbtq#ftm#mtf#nonbinary#this especially goes for folks who may be transfem or trans women experiencing patterned hair loss/baldness#i love you and think you are gorgeous<3#i mentioned trans folks going on t because that's a lot of my own experience#i already had a somewhat masc hairline before t and now it's just settling in...#...i found that i'm fortunate in that way for having an already masculine body and i think that's why my changes are more...#...like unpacking your house rather than moving to a new home if that makes sense#but i find that the beauty culture around hair adds even more unnecessary stress for those who want or value their hair#i am beauty culture's number one hater
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Digital Transgender Archive
The purpose of the Digital Transgender Archive (DTA) is to increase the accessibility of transgender history by providing an online hub for digitized historical materials, born-digital materials, and information on archival holdings throughout the world.
#social change#minority#oppressed#sexuality#transgender#website#digital platform#platform#cultural change
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