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nightswithkookmin · 3 years

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OK I'M AWAKE

And I have A LOT TO SAY.

A. WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED YESTERDAY?!

B. Anyone want to help me build a time machine?

No seriously, someone tell it to me why the most hard working artist in the galaxy the world have ever seen hands down didn't bag that stupid irrelevant pretentious piece of crap they call Grammy.

What's the criteria?

White?

American

European?

Oh Talent?!

Funny you should mention Talent you racist piece of shit.

It doesn't get more talented than this👄💄

Or THIS 💅🏾

Or this quite frankly 😌

I mean look at him. Beautifully talented I'd say😌🥂

If it's Talent they want, then I think BTS should have won several Grammys by now-

And yes, I saw all those categories and artists you gave trophies to...

Best dance, best contemporary blah blah-

Here you go.

Now were is the Grammy for Black Swan?🔪

In fact, WHERE IS THE TROHPY FOR THE ENTIRE MAP OF THE SOUL SEVEN ALBUM!🤺

What does BTS have to do???????? 😫

They be jumping through hoops for years, years now. And year after year, it's been fuck you, and fuck you, and fuck you!!!!!

FUCK YOU.

I know y'all know damn well they can't work harder than they already do. They just can't kill themselves for this shit uno.

"They not asking for a free ride."

"At least they showed up."

"You showed them nothing' you fraudulent eurocentric bastards. Eat shit.

Rain On Me is a bop... in 1950? Come now😞

This gotta be a joke.

THE STONE AGE CALLED, THEY WANT THEIR SCHTICK BACK, you loser!

Seriously, how ancient is the academy!!!

Personally, I like the song. It's been done one too many times through generations. Nothing experimental. Nothing new. It's empowering and liberating and as a strong queer woman, I get it. The Academy have long been accused of sexism, with their nominations and voting process accused of being dominated by cis White misogynist and sexist men and so moves like this would be redemption ploy to salvage their stinking reputation. Bless their hearts, they thought they did something🤣

This ain't it. They just masking one nasty infestation with another- racism.

They wanna be dumb? I'll give them dumb-

ROM is not a popular song when untill it won the scamy last night no one knew about it💀

And those of us who knew of it had totally forgotten all about it in a span of months😵

How you gone win a pop duo song when your song is not even a pop song?

Gotta match their energy uno😌

"They have a good rhythm, a catchy melody, and are easy to remember and sing along to. They usually have a chorus that's repeated several times and two or more verses. Most pop songs are between two and five minutes long, and the lyrics are usually about the joys and problems of love and relationships."

Rain on me is about love and pains of life and relationships yadda yadda- but it doesn't have a catchy melody that is easy to remember and sing along.

If Yummy had won, honestly it would have made sense- and it wasn't even nominated in that category. Lmho.

Intentions.... that's pop music???😲

I think they need to expand the pop genre to make room for nuances within the category.

Intentions is not Pop music.

Rain on me is not Pop music.

I think Yummy is as deep as the scamy electors and voters muscial knowledge but at least it's catchy and memorable🤧

Girl you got that yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy. You got that yummy, yummy, yummy, yummy.

Girl you got that yummy, yummy- ok you get the point I'm trying to make. Lol.

Know what else is catchy and memorable?

Dy-na-na-na, na-na, na-na, ayy

Light it up like dynamite

I see it, I want it, I stunt, yellow-bone it

I dream it, I work hard, I grind 'til I own it

I twirl on them haters, albino alligators

El Camino with the seat low, sippin' Cuervo with no chaser

Just because a song has elements of pop music don't make it pop music.

Maroon 5, girl like you ft Cardi- that's Pop music. ROM sounds like an old school pop sound.

Is that why they nominated it? They were feeling nolstagic? They missed the 50s and 70s? Or early 2010s?

Most genres of music such as R&B are all sub genres of pop music. In my humble opinion, you dumb ass Academy, don't make the pop.

Blinding Lights, Intentions and Rain on me belong to the same category and they all don't belong to the Pop category regardless of whether Gaga is a pop singer or not.

Anywho, like the CEO of the Academy said, music is subjective and frankly what do we know. We come from modern times where Hogwarts is a myth.

In conclusion, the Grammy is trash, the Academy is trash, the voters are trash, the process is trash, BTS deserved better.

They are constantly being exploited in the industry by a bunch of nobodies of yore I don't care about, who are racist on top of their brain deadry.

Y'ALL SUCK ASS!

I haven't watched their post scamy VLive because I can't bring myself to watch it.

No one should bring it up or talk about or ask me anything about that Vlive else you will get blocked and muted.

All I want to see in my Ask are memes disparaging the scamy and cussing them back to whence they came from.

Signed,

GOLDY

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thanksjro · 4 years

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Dark Cybertron Chapter 7: Simon Furman and His Lack of a Relationship with the Singular They

The Lost Light is still being attacked by Ammonites, like it has been for the last few issues. Hound’s taken over as acting field commander and is calling all the shots. Chromedome uses his stupid beefy arms to punch things. Trailcutter is screaming. Swerve’s got his My First Blaster™ strapped to the top of his alt, and saves Crosscut.

Crosscut is our toy tie-in character for this issue. He’s a senator, and drafts play scripts. Arguably one of the more interesting tie-in guys, at least in theory. In practice, all he’s doing is forgetting Swerve’s name, which isn’t going to help the guy with his through-the-floor self esteem.

Crosscut points out that Swerve’s communicator is flashing, and while he’s checking his voicemail, all the Ammonites seemingly vanish… at least, until the gang realizes that they’re instead heading for Metroplex.

Inside, it would appear that the Rod Pod Squad aren’t actually dead, though their ride is probably toast. Before everything went to hell, a wall slammed down from the ceiling, protecting everyone from being utterly destroyed. Skids has figured out what all the arrow graffiti is about, earning himself a BOMP from Getaway. Looks like the internal structure of Metroplex has been shifting, and that’s why they got the runaround last issue. Also, Whirl’s gone missing, but we don’t have time to worry about that, because Swerve just called back with some bad news: the admium flakes they saw earlier mean that Metroplex has an alchemical virus.

Don’t you look at me like that, I’m getting to the explanation.

Alchemical viruses turn the metal of the body into admium, a rare, incredibly soft metal that will break down very easily and also kill you. It’s pretty bad to have. Also, contagious. Fellas better get outta there, posthaste.

The Ammonites are also storming Metroplex, so that’s an additional issue. God, it just never stops, does it?

Over in the Dead Universe-

Is that a fortress of evil in the shape of Nova Prime’s head?

Is that a goddamned fortress-

Anyway, the center of Nova Prime’s universe is Kup, who was the guy who got oh-so-dramatically revealed at the end of the last issue. Unfortunately, Orion Pax also considers Kup to be very near and dear to his heart, and the whole “being turned into a space bridge” thing is going to be an issue.

This is the weirdest love triangle I’ve ever seen.

How the hell did Kup even get here? Well, in order to know that, you’ve have to had read Infestation, the bullshit zombie crossover comic miniseries that ran in 2011.

But I’m not going to do that.

Because I don’t want to.

After a bit of showboating, Nova Prime orders Nightbeat to take Team -Imus to their cell.

Over on Cybertron, Shockwave is getting real sick of Galvatron’s shit, but Galvatron is too busy posing dramatically to notice. Waspinator, Metalhawk, and Dreadwing float in the air. I’m not sure what they’re up to, but I’m sure it’s important. Jhiaxus shows up with a gaggle of goons, one of which seems to have forgotten his face in the jar by the door.

Galvatron gets shamed for tearing Megatron in half, since that sort of broke the space bridge in his torso, but he’s too busy being classist to care. Waspinator floats in the background. What are you doing back there, pal?

Shockwave orders Waspinator to carry Megatron to his quarters, but Galvatron’s decided that he’s going to be an asshole about everything today, even when he’s being helpful.

…Okay, Boomer.

Waspinator still ends up hauling Megatron’s ass away, and Shockwave and Jhiaxus have a little chat.

Back in the dead universe, Team -Imus are in their cell, as Nightbeat double-checks the locks or some shit, I dunno. They’re gonna get their sparks ripped out later in the day, so that the space bridge Kup’s got running in his torso finally has enough juice to actually friggin’ work.

Then Rodimus flashes his mystery hand at Nightbeat and makes him fall down. In order for the whole brainwashing thing to work, Nightbeat’s true nature had to be suppressed; however, whenever Rodimus shows off his mystery hand, it makes his brain kickstart back on, messing up the brainwashing.

Well, you know what, Cyclonus? That’s not my fucking fault. Blame Roberts and Barber. I certainly do.

ORION PLEASE.

We finally get a look at what Rodimus’ hand mystery is, and if you read Eugenesis, you might know where this is going. It would seem Nightbeat has not- which is for the best, really, given what happens to him in it- but he’s still a pretty smart cookie and can suss it out through the power of deductive reasoning. Here’s what he’s working with:

After a moment’s deliberation, he asks Rodimus, who he knows to be the captain of a ship, how many folks are riding around in the space yacht. Rodimus tells him 190, and shows off that he’s got his lipgloss on, and it would seem that Nightbeat’s a free man again. He lets everyone out of the cell, and they gear up to go pick up Kup. Orion Pax is confused as to what the hell just happened here, and Rodimus promises to explain why he’s carved a division problem into his palm once they aren’t in immediate danger.

Back on Cybertron, Galvatron and Waspinator are dragging Megatron’s halves towards Shockwave’s quarters, when Bumblebee pops out of nowhere with a gun and a mouth full of swears. He’s here for Megatron, and he’s not taking “no” for an answer. Galvatron thinks that this is super fucking funny, and tosses Megatron like an empty soda can into the wall so he can squash a bug.

It looks pretty grim for ol’ Bumblebee, but suddenly Galvatron realizes he left the oven on that Megatron’s gone missing.

Oh, there he is!

Megatron blasts Galvatron in the torso, then- in a surprisingly polite manner, at least for him- tells Bumblebee to grab his legs so they can get out of here. As the two of them traverse the burned-out husk that is Cybertron, Megatron decides to be a complete bastard, as he smiles at the idea of Starscream suffering. Like, dude, I know he kept you in weird hamster ball jail and spouted soliloquies in your general direction every single day you were there, but folks are dying right now.

Speaking of Starscream, he’s having a moment, as he sits on his knees and stares at the sky in abject horror while the world burns around him. Scoop comes by to yell at him for being a harbinger of death, and generally being a less than stellar leader, and Starscream halfway calls himself a dumpster fire.

Back inside Metroplex, the Rod Pod Squad are fortifying their defenses against the Ammonites, even though they really need to be getting the hell out of there before they get turned into talcum powder through the power of alchemy. Whirl shows back up, the Ammonite hanger-on in his grasp, and we get the skinny on why the hell the Ammonites are involved with this whole debacle anyway.

The answer is Shockwave.

The answer is always Shockwave.

Then the little dude explodes. It’s fine, they do that sometimes.

Before he went kablooey, little dude uttered the phrase, “if the dead are not enough.” We’ll get to what all that’s about later. Right now there are far more important things going on.

LIKE MOTHERFUCKING LADY ROBOTS.

But why is this such a big deal? Why is it that non-male coded robots who aren’t Arcee haven’t been seen up until this point? What’s up with that, huh?

Well, in order to understand IDW’s complicated relationship with gender, we’re going to have to do some digging into the history of Transformers as a franchise.

We’re going to have to talk about Simon Furman.

We're going to have to talk about Prime's Rib.

And we’re going to have to talk about Spotlight: Arcee.

Simon Furman wrote a lot of Transformers. You cannot get away from Simon Furman, because the man is so ingrained in the franchise. He was there for Marvel UK, he was there for the back half of Marvel US, he wrote for several other publication runs of Transformers, he worked on the Earth Wars mobile game-

-and, of course, IDW publishing.

Because Furman is so very well established and known in the industry, he gets the benefit of not being questioned on a lot of the calls he makes.

Which is a problem, because the man is a massive misogynist.

In 1989, Marvel UK #234 came out, containing the story entitled “Prime’s Rib!” in which the Autobots built Arcee in order to appease a group of strawmen feminists. Of course, one female Transformer isn’t enough for them, and they yell at poor Optimus Prime for trying his best. This is the point where Hot Rod is used as a writer avatar to try to smooth things over with the reader, because you see, the Transformers don’t even know what sexual dimorphism and gender identity even is, so of course they wouldn’t have female members of their race! Jazz is used for a breast joke. Arcee acts like a massive, stereotypical bitch the whole time, despite not having been written like that at all in the other issues. It’s a bad comic with hideous ideology leaking out of it, and I'm halfway sorry I read it, so I’ll just give you the essence of this nightmare.

Oh, those big, mean, scary feminists are bullying the robots for living their lives, huh Furman? Life is just so goddamned unfair when a woman exists in your fucking line of sight.

Furman has gone on record saying that he doesn’t see the point in including the concept of gender in a race of non-sexually reproducing robots. He sees them as “genderless.” Which, if that statement existed in a vacuum, I could perhaps see where he’s coming from.

But Simon Furman does not exist in a vacuum. He exists in a world where sexism exists, something that he’s willingly participated in.

Let me back up that little tidbit with a bit of a disclaimer: I’m not in any way an expert on gender. I didn’t study it in school, I’ve not read an obscene amount of pieces on the topic. I’m not even sure about it on a personal level.

Maybe some of y’all have noticed the whole other set of pronouns I slapped into the bio in the last month or so. It doesn’t really matter, 90% of people don’t read the FAQ/About, I know that, and then 95% of those people only read it once, and this has been a relatively new self-revelation.

BUT ANYWAY.

Let’s be… fair about this. 1989 was a while ago, a lot of research on the concept of gender has taken place, maybe he’s ch-

Oh, what’s that?

Misogyny?

Transphobia?

Transmisogyny?

Treating women as an aberration being forced on Transformers as a whole?

And the writing is clunky and overstuffed?

Well, that’s just fucking fantastic, Furman, thanks so much.

This was in 2008. Because Furman established that female Transformers weren’t something natural, but rather made, and forcibly at that, and nobody fucking smacked his little hands away from this terrible idea, AND nobody tried to fix it for years, there was a lack of gender diversity within IDW until 2014, with the release of Dark Cybertron Chapter 7. Because we waited six years to fix this nightmare, things couldn’t be done quite the way that Roberts had been hoping, in that he intended for our female robots to not have the whole… fembot build happening. IDW wanted them immediately clockable, because this was very clearly a problem that needed rectifying.

So, in short: because of boys’ club mentality and a lack of understanding of what gender means or why it’s important for roughly 50% of the world’s population to have representation in media, Nautica and Chromia are here now.

And despite the convoluted road they had to take, I love them very much.

#transformers #jro #dark cybertron #issue 7 #rid #exrid #issue 25 #maccadam #Hannzreads #overthinking about robots #incoming analysis #text post #long post #comic script writing

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taramaclaywasaterf · 4 years

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Just curious, do you not believe that being transgender is possible for certain people? And do you believe that you understand what “ being transgender” means? I have found that lots of people don’t understand what ““being transgender” actually means for a person. And the resulting misunderstanding creates the basis for heated and disrespectful verbal exchanges going both ways which are regrettable in that only mistrust and ignorance remain at the end.

@beingsarah Oh my god I hate condescending, passive aggressive bullshit like this. Take the internet-fedora off, bro, you sound like a fucking asshole.

You want a real answer? Cause you’re not gonna like it. I know what “being transgender” is for christ sake. It’s not a hard concept to grasp, nor is it something that I- a grown ass adult lesbian who has watched her community get destroyed from the inside out by trans rhetoric- “don’t understand.” I’ve had yall’s shit shoved in my face for years. It’s precisely BECAUSE I understand it that I fucking despise it so much.

If you’re gonna sit here and lecture me on dysphoria and ~*ladybrains*~ like it’s safe to assume you’re planning to do, don’t bother. Yes, dysphoria is real. But it’s been shown time and time again that pumping yourself with hormones, chopping off perfectly healthy body parts, and forcing everyone around you to go along with your little one-man play doesn’t fucking help anything. Medical transition is like anorexics with body dysmorphia being allowed to get liposuction and encouraged to starve themselves to be their True Selves: It. Doesn’t. Help. Speak to detransitioned people. Look up horror stories of what they had to go through, and still continue to go through now that they’ve detransitioned and are working through their dysphoria while you monsters constantly attack them and silence them and brush them under the rug. And as for ~*ladybrains*~? Sexed-brains have been debunked over and over. Your bunk “science” is misogynistic garbage created by men to further oppress women. You don’t have a ~*ladybrain*~. You’re just a dumbass misogynist who thinks gender stereotypes are innate and wears female oppression like a costume.

On top of that, you’re pushing your vile drugs on literal goddamn children. You’re fucking sterilizing a generation of GNC kids; kids who’d otherwise likely be gay. No wonder the right is eating your shit up! They get to essentially de-sex young gay kids before they even have a chance to have their first kiss. Finally, a form of conversion therapy that the left can get on board with! Who wants a nasty homo son when you could have a perfect little straight daughter, amiright?

And now we have the assholes who insist you don’t even need dysphoria to be trans, aka straight men and women who fetishize lesbians and gay men and send actual homosexuals a never ending stream of rape and death threats when we dare to say we’ll never be attracted to the opposite sex. They’ve infested gay spaces to the point of making them unbearable for actual gays. They call lesbians evil, bigoted, nazi cunts for not sucking dick and assault or rape or murder us when we reject them. They call gay men disgusting sex obsessed fags for not fucking vaginas and openly boast about all the times they’ve raped gay men by not telling them they’re trans before having sex, which is literal textbook rape by deception.

Yall have set women’s rights back decades. You’ve erased every trace of progress gays have made. You’ve forcibly latched yourself onto feminism and the LGB community, erased both histories, and rewrote yourselves as the heroes while painting us as stupid useless nobodies sitting around with our thumbs up our asses until men in dresses came to save us.

You’ve exploited people with disorders of sexual development, insisting that intersex people are LGB despite them repeatedly telling yall to stop. You’ve turned intersex conditions into a “third sex” and “proof” that sexual dimorphism isn’t real, when in reality that’s blatantly false. Yall actively flat out cover up every single act of violence trans”women” commit. Rape. Murder. Pedophilia. It’s all brushed under the rug. You deny deny deny until you can’t anymore, and then you pull the “no true trans” card and cry “well they’re not a REAL trans’woman’!!!!” despite continuing to throw hissy fits whenever someone “misgenders” them.

Yall spew the most vile, racist fucking bullshit I’ve ever read in my life, comparing Black women to men, acting like they’re somehow not as female as white women. You appropriate Native and Indigenous language (despite the fact that “two spirit” was literally just a way to “other” feminine gay men. It’s homophobic. Not ~*nonbinary*~.) You act like Black and Brown people were too fucking stupid to know the difference between male and female bodies until The Big Mean White People came along and showed them how their own goddamn bodies work. Ya know, it’s totally not as though Native women and Black women weren’t still being raped, forcibly impregnated, dying in childbirth, etc. before white men showed up and taught Native and Black men how to use their penises to abuse women...that’s totally not the “Noble Savage” stereotype dressed up in Woke™️ language!!!!! Nope, not disgustingly racist and misogynistic at all!

Yall are continuously allowing men to take the very few spots in government that are reserved for women, just because the dudes put a wig on. You’re undoing laws set into place by the fucking suffragettes. You’re getting women fired and deported and even fucking arrested for daring to say women don’t have penises.

And then, after all of that, yall turn around and STILL have the audacity to play victim. And YOU have the audacity to come onto my page and act as though I’m just some poor misinformed child who needs your Manly Man input, and not someone who has constantly been fucked over by this goddamn homophobic, racist, gender-obsessed, misogynistic cult time and time again.

I know what “transgender” is. So fuck off. Go mansplain somewhere else, dude.

#asks #long post #god i fucking hate assholes like this

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unicornmagic · 6 years

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Still on Kylo ugh why

TLJ spoilers under the cut.

The Problem of Kylo is twofold: 1. Why bother to save fuckboy(s)–aside from the fact that extending compassion even to those who don’t deserve it is what Good does? 2. While one expects Team Light Side to keep throwing lifelines, who specifically is gonna bother in Episode IX if Mom and Dad are gone, Rey rightly noped out at the end of TLJ (nor does one want to see her saddled with the burden), and Kylo has alienated literally the entire galaxy? Whose lifeline might he finally choose to grab, assuming he’s going to choose that (because Star Wars is Star Wars, and it’s a story of hope, even for the undeserving)?

As @minimoonstar noted, there’s no easy Disney solution to the problem of fuckboys. It’s hard to usher someone back when they’re as far gone as this guy, and the “why bother” question looms large when one would just as soon obliterate or let them messily self-destruct (though the latter is likely to include collateral damage). I still feel like Leia or her death ought to play some role, even if she’s not to appear directly. It has to be done with care, though: while it makes sense that a mother (or her Force ghost) would keep leaving the door open for her son to step through, even without hope, if only for the sake of the memory of the child she loved, it’s maybe a little too easy to play into mythic resonances of Mother Mary or Guanyin, and one wants to avoid the suggestion of long-suffering Space Mom doing emotional laundry for her worthless offspring who’s failed to do his own.

Aside from that, I’ve been thinking about how white racist/misogynist men are more likely to listen to fellow white men, i.e. those they perceive as peers–not women or POC–when it comes to calls to reexamine or change their behavior. There’s Life After Hate, the group founded by former white supremacist and current NPR darling Christian Picciolini, which uses the insight of former insiders to help extremists leave hate groups and move away from those ideologies. With those in mind, I wonder if maybe it’s not Space Mom but Space Grandpa* who has to extend the metaphorical hand. Maybe one bothers to save fuckboys so they can then save other fuckboys, ultimately making the galaxy a less fuckboy-infested place–and that’s why Anakin had to be “redeemed”: so he’d be spiritually available to help bring his fellow mass murderer and miserable shit of a grandkid out of the Dark.

* My brain balks at this only when it comes to the logistics, i.e. the specter of Hayden Christensen appearing ALL UP IN MY EYEBALLS in Episode IX -_-

#tlj #tlj spoilers #episode ix speculation #star wars #kylo ren

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allsugarbutnospice-blog · 5 years

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Time Travel Pt. 3

“So you’re telling me that your twin brother is heir to this here kingdom, but you two were separated at birth, with your father giving you up to some random orphanage because he didn’t feel like raising two kids. You would be fine with this except for the fact that your brother, whose name is really stupid by the way, is certifiably insane and has no business ruling the kingdom. So, you and your possy of flat out drunk rebellers are planing to storm the kingdom and take back what’s rightfully yours. Possibly killing your twin in the process.”

Cassius shrugged his lithe shoulders. “When you put it like that it sounds like a bad thing.”

“What no, that sounds freaking awesome! Can I join!”

I could be at home doing that cardiovascular essay but instead I’m going on a lit ass time travel adventure, what’s not to be excited about? This is probably the best day of my very boring life. Seriously. I had literally nothing else better to do.

Cassius’s gold eyes held a slight bit of hesitance. He said slowly, “But your a girl...”

I narrowed my eyes at him. “So?”

“Girls don’t exactly join these types of skirmishes.”

Bruh. I know he didn’t. Taking a deep breath, I stalked up to that misguided blonde idiot like a predator chasing down prey. I got right up into his face, our lips mere inches apart. “You can take that misogynistic attitude I’m sensing and shove it right up your—”

Cassius stumbled back. “Alright, you can tag along.”

I smiled brightly at him. “Great! So what’s the plan bucko?”

He rubbed the back of his neck, not exactly sure how to answer. “Well, when the moon reaches directly above us, half of my men are going to scale the walls of the castle and the other will use secret passageways running underneath it. The guards will all be rendered unconscious by that point, as I have an inside spy that will poison them at dinner tonight, leaving my brother unguarded.”

I nodded along, pretending to understand what he was saying. “Ah, yes that makes perfect sense.” I paused, my brain coming up with a justifiable question. “How exactly were you planning on getting in? You didn’t really specify that part.”

“Like a true king would.” the grin that spilt his handsome face was enough to make even the most ruthless and unafraid human alive quiver in fear. But I was unaffected by the simple fact that I don’t give a crap. “We walk through the front gates.”

Cassius struck that standard hero pose after that little statement. Hands on hips, leg hitched up on a rock, wind blowing through his ruffled blonde hair, the whole shablamo. He was even looking away towards where the sunset would be if it wasn’t pitch black outside.

I ruined his bravado act by coughing into my fist. “That’s nice and all kid, but there’s one little flaw in that plan. Where in the heck is this castle you keep going on about.” I stood on my tip toes trying to find the oh so grand landmark, surprisingly coming up empty. “I can’t see—”

Cassius limply gestured past a couple of enormous tree trunks where the basic outline of what appeared to be a fortified castle stood.

“Never mind.”

The boy sighed and began to push past the foliage, but stopped in mid step. “You never truly told me how you ended up in the middle of this forest dressed so strangely. It seems quite odd in my opinion.”

Now, I could either lie or I could be 100% honest. Both would sound outrageous to Cassius so I just decided to simplify the truth. You know, like a good person.

“I found this really cool rock one day and took it to my apartment where it started glowing after I banged it on my desk. Then it swept me up in this weird vortex and brought me here to the eighteenth century which is really cool since I’m from the twenty first.”

Cassius didn’t really know what to say to that so he just turned around and started walking in the general direction of that castle. Under his breath, I head him mutter, “This girl is hallucinating.”

I probably am, but I doubt even my brain could come up with a man that fine. Like his eyes have me melting, but I can’t show it because that’s too much work. And I am laziness incarnate.

I followed Cassius through the forest, tripping over roots, fallen branches, and even a squirrel at one point. We finally reached a stopping point by the time I was about to pass out. I really needed to invest in a gym membership. Eh, like I’d ever actually gather the energy to go. It’d just be a waste of money.

Cassius sat down silently on a tree trunk that had broken off from the rest of its roots. “We wait here until receiving the all clear signal.”

All I could reply in my battle for oxygen and exhausted state was, “Lit,” before I collapsed onto the forest floor. “I think I’m dying Cassius,” I panted, “I may never be able to walk again.”

Concern filled his bright gold eyes and he jumped up from his seat, falling onto his knees beside me.

“Do you need me to do anything? I don’t know any healing techniques! I knew I should have listened to Doctor Gabriel when he said every great king needed to learn the art of medicine. Now you might die because of my laziness.” I tried to stop in but his dirt covered hand shushed me. “Shhh, don’t speak Eve, you might make yourself faint. Oh lord, what can I do?” His whole body was shaking and his gold eyes held so much fear for me, I’m surprised they weren’t overflowing.

Taking the not so high road, I shoved his germ infested hand off me. Gosh, the amount of microorganisms making a living on his skin is revolting. I had to do a whole lab on it my freshman year of college. I still have nightmares about the little demon creatures.

“Chill kid, I’m fine.” At his confused state, I added. “It was just an exaggerated expression. I’m not actually dying, I was just being over theatrical for effect.”

Cassius scoffed and pushed himself away from me. “Don’t jest like that. You had me seriously worried.”

I raised my eyebrows, a silent suggestion to carry on.

He sighed and plopped back down on his Fallen three trunk. “One of my best friends died of disease at my orphanage. He collapsed just as you did and perished in my arms, and seeing you like that brought back memories I would rather wish could stay buried.”

“Uh, that sucks.”

How am I supposed to reply to that! His best friend died for heaven’s sake! What does he want me to do? Grovel on my knees apologizing for such a fate to befall him and his friend? No! I am a basic college girl with no feelings but frustration, procrastination, and dread. No comfort can be found from my dead soul.

A silky soft bird song broke through the silence that had followed after that particular conversation. Cassius’s blonde head shot straight up, as if entranced by the sound.

He looked me dead in the eyes, mumbling rather unkinglylike, “That’s the signal.”

I followed behind him, lack of social skills causing me to hum as I walked. Here we go, time to hijack a eighteeth century castle with no prior knowledge of the matter and a really hot possible heir to said castle beside me. If this is a hallucination, it’s a pretty cool one.

#my writing #writing #fiction #funny #short story #story #humor #time travel #adveture #history #comedy #my ocs #ocs #original content #original character #disappointed

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her-culture · 7 years

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A Letter to the Man who Told me not to Speak Spanish in Public

Dear Sir,

After experiencing a moment of disbelieving paralysis, replaced by sadness, followed by frustration, and a great dose of wrath towards you and especially myself for not addressing you in the moment, all I feel now is pity. I honestly pity the depth of your ignorance.

When my colleague and I were walking towards the subway entrance in the heart of the Financial District, we were bonding over our favorite musicians in Spanish, minding our own business--with no intention to offend or bother you and your two white, male friends...because naturally, a racist xenophobe like you would only surround himself with people who look like him.

You see, sometimes only words in certain languages can most accurately describe and enliven the topic at hand. In our case, since my colleague and I were talking about Latin musicians, we had to authentically honor our roots, and therefore speak in our native tongue. Perhaps your monolingual, narrow mind inhibits you from seeing the limitations of having to rely on a single language to precisely communicate all your thoughts and feelings. That is the beauty of being bilingual, or trilingual, or even a polyglot: because we think in different languages, our minds are equipped to function rather quickly, transitioning from topic to topic smoothly. In fact, bilingualism can improve an individual’s ability to focus and perform mental tasks. Studies have found that bilingual children outperform children who speak only one language in problem-solving skills and creative thinking.

It baffles me that you condemn such an admirable skill in a pair of young women. Perhaps I should be flattered. Maybe your offense at my speaking Spanish on bustling New York City streets is an indication of envy or appreciation towards my motor skills, and those of my fellow immigrants; of the blessing it is to be exposed to, and embrace, two different cultures; of knowing a world beyond the boundaries of the United States; of having a history far richer than what is described in a single nation’s history textbook. And most importantly, of having a multi-layered--I dare say, more receptive-- perspective on life.

When you began to speak out loud in the direction of my friend and me--exerting your white, male privilege--I immediately blocked you out. I refused to listen to what you had to say. And that was my biggest mistake. As soon as I saw your mouth and arms open wide, I forced myself to ignore you completely, which is why the second half of your statement took me a second too long to register-- a second too long to put you in your place.

You yelled out, “I’m sorry but that is unacceptable!”

Identifying as a woman, my brain immediately began to imagine sexist, misogynist comments that were going to complete your statement: “‘it’s unacceptable’ for two beautiful women in skirts to be walking alone unaccompanied by a man;” a comment construed by men as “kind” and “innocent,” and not for what it truly is: cat-calling, or even more accurately, harassment. Women face street harassment all the time, even on a daily basis. A study conducted in 2014 found that sixty-five percent of all women have experienced street harassment. I myself have experienced verbal street harassment quite a few times, by much older men. It is not flattering. No matter how carefully men choose “pleasant” vocabulary or measure their tone of voice to be sweet, women walking on the street, attempting to get to their destination, are not objects for the male gaze--for male visual pleasure and conversational enjoyment. We just want to get to where we need to be, unbothered.

How miserable is it that because I assumed you were a misogynist (which you still probably are because you, a man, thought you had the power to tell me, a woman, what to do), I immediately feared for my safety, and chose to initially ignore the xenophobic comment that shortly followed your fantastic opening statement? That in itself is so problematic! I did not answer back to you and instead chose to ignore you because I feared retaliation. It was three of you against just two of us. I did not know if you would try to grab me, or follow me, or worse. Twenty-three percent of women have been sexually touched, twenty percent have been followed, and nine percent have been forced to do something sexual. Some women, like myself, are too scared to react.

My fear of a very real problem that women face impeded me from being able to react in a timely manner to the larger, more transparent issue at hand. After yelling “I’m sorry but that is unacceptable!” You yelled: “No permiso!” [no permission], laughing in a terrible Spanish accent. At that point, time stood still. My colleague and I stared at each other, open-mouthed, processing what had happened. Had we just been recipients of hate speech? Had that really happened to us, in New York City, in 2017? I suppose in retrospect, with Trump as president, I should not have been as surprised; but I was, because part of me wanted to hope that the world isn’t infested with so much evil. It was my disbelief that disabled me from reacting. In this situation, I was not scared. I was disappointed. The vision of the United States as a beacon of “liberty and justice for all” became all the more mythical. You corroborated what I already knew: the irony and inaccessibility of US ideals. And despite me being the type of woman who likes to be right, in that moment, I wanted to be proved wrong.

One of your companions yelled out, loud enough so my friend and I could hear even though the three of you had created some distance, and continued along your xenophobic, merry way: “Did you just speak Mexican?”

“No, that’s Spanish!” you replied.

Just like English is still English in the United States, the United Kingdom and Australia, Spanish is still Spanish in Spain and the Hispanophone world. You may be ignorant, but your friend cannot be that ignorant...can he? I know he said “Mexican” to deepen your bigoted blow because Mexico is often conflated with all of Latin America; and Mexico is perceived to be the brunt of Latin America by egregious anti-Mexican sentiments. I pity your friend, who sacrificed his intellect in the name of racist martyrdom.

The irony of your “this is ‘America’ [the term “America” includes Canada, the US, and Latin America so let’s stop the semantic appropriation] so you should only speak in English” message is that you spoke in broken Spanish to us. You clearly said “no permiso,” thereby acknowledging the importance of knowing a second language to effectively communicate your desires, however prejudice. In implying I should not speak in Spanish, you attempted to speak to us in Spanish. You defeated the whole purpose of your hate speech, buddy!

I am angry at myself for not responding to you before letting you three get away. I’m angry that I was fine with staying silent when I assumed you were a cat-caller. (I need to work on that!) I’m angry that all I could do was convince myself that that had not happened. I’m angry I could not collect my thoughts fast enough to engage in dialogue with you over your sad perspective on diversity/ pluralism/ cultural hybridization. I’m angry my multilingual mind could not function quickly when I needed it most--because all my brain was sending me were curse words, and that would have only worsened Latinx stereotypes. I am angry at you for making me get angry at myself.

But I also want to thank you. Because of this incident, I have had time to reflect and share my experience with others. I hope no one else is made to feel ashamed of their history, their heritage, their culture, their language. I hope no one else is forced to be silenced or discouraged from manifesting their identity. I hope no one else is made to feel lesser because of their immigration history and/or immigration status. If someone does experience something akin to what my friend and I endured at the hand of your twisted humor, I hope they handle it better than I did. I hope they have the courage, strength and wisdom to react appropriately, and challenge the perpetrator's bigot ideology in the moment. I hope they leave the situation even prouder of being who they are. I certainly have, so gracias. You inadvertently made me prouder of my Latinidad, my Colombian heritage, my immigrant identity, my womanness.

I want to remind you that this nation does not have an official, national language. I want to remind you that the English language is influenced by other languages. I want to remind you that even if you are not an immigrant, you have a history of immigration in your ancestry. I want to remind you that this nation runs on immigrants. it is people like my colleague and me who make this country great--a country that has always been great (though it has a lot to improve) because of the direct result of immigration. De nada.

Sincerely,

A proud, Spanish-speaking immigrant

#spanish #public #open letter

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darkpotatorises · 4 years

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Diary of Soul #4

Hello there It’s Thursday, 13th of August 2020 I’m writing this piece of rant in the middle of stretching, while feeling places on my body I didn’t know they existed. After the longest hiatus, I have finally decided to get my skin ‘n’ bones bod back in shape. If it still remembers those “glorious” days. I need to shave too… It’s crazy how something simple and not as time consuming as the stuff we replace it with can be so….. easy to avoid. I have this bush of pubes on my chin and “moustache” that’ll never be mustache that in some instances gets in my mouth while I’m eating. Speaking of stuff that’s getting in my mouth while I’m eating, no cock puns intended… Yesterday I set a clean plate on my stove while getting food from the oven. In that time span something was on top of my plate. Something I noticed with just a corner of my eye and dismissed as I hurled a few spoonfuls of potatoes. (Yes it was really potato)… Third into the plate, I get to the bottom of it and lo and behold, There’s a moth in it, moving it’s tiny legsies, while flapping with one wing. It was P.T.’s anniversary, so it’s only fair that I get to watch a moth die in what was supposed to be the rest of my breakfast. Sorry bug egg infesting aliens, I’m not taking any chances, not in 2020. The funny thing about these is, you don’t know where your brain is gonna take you over the course of writing. You don’t have to feel obligated and add a form or stamp any sort of meaning or point to it. It just exist there in the moment together with you. Your thoughts pouring down to the paper and it feels refreshing and relieving like a breeze in a hot summer rainy nights or that first rush of urine that needed to get out a few blocks away. Funny thing indeed. Back in a day when I still used to mingle there was one girl who could only cum while getting slapped. I swear to you, she could have cum by just laying hand on her…. Literally just a slap session away from jizzing her panties. Those were simple times. Sometimes I wonder if the times are really changing or our internal changes affect us to perceive it that way. Is it just another case of “It all depends on the angle you’re looking it from?” From the angle of a pussy, it would be misogynistic and wrong to hit a woman even if she’s the one literally begging you to do it. It’s practically a crime if you don’t provide her with that sweet release of wild honey. All about the angles. Simple as that. FAST FORWARD FEW HOURS I just had a guy I considered some of a friend for the longest time. His wife is pregnant for the second time but I feel that this time joy escapes him. He finally completely lost faith in people. The virus incident left him jobless, and none of the guys he was once helping is there to return the favor. I understand him. As someone who never got a job in the first place, a happy “golden sleeper goose” who still depends on his parents…. Never thought I’m gonna see him in the same situation. I don’t gloat…. He didn’t get the drinks when coming over, he’s hesitant to even talk about it. He always brings the drinks. Luckily my jobless ass had some spare change. By spare change I meant only money had. Enough to buy you 3 beers. Better than nothing. He needs it. I got a Nesquik chocolate bar for the kid in advance, a week or two ago. It’s his. And even though he’s not the best person, his kid could be. Feels like old days. Minus the girl problems…. The guy who had the most trouble with them is married to a good wife, he has one kid already and another one on the way… I couldn’t be happier for them. He leaves after only an hour and a half… much better track record than me who usually overstays his welcome, drinking well into the morning hours… Ah those times. Well see ya in the next one ^^

#Dark Potato Rises #DarkPotatoRises #journal #diary

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