#and adolescence IS weird I agree

[edenfenixblogs]

Some Excerpts As I Read

Reader Note: I have read The Color Purple and would never dismiss the importance of Alice Walker’s work. However, let’s not pretend that she’s too sacred to critique and treat like any other artist who does something racist. Her work to combat anti-black racism and highlight Black American struggles do not permit or excuse when she engages in other forms of bigotry.

I have never seen someone make a public stink about the extraordinarily racist poem, of which the section quoted above is only the tip of that particular racist iceberg.

In fact, I did not even know that Walker had written this horrible “poem” (if you can call an antisemitic diatribe with weird spacing a poem) —despite being very active in leftist spaces for my whole adult AND adolescent life and being an avid reader or both novels and poetry until 2023.

It was brought to my attention when she caught flak for being a TERF, as an incidental aside to prove that she was actually bigoted in several ways. A trait she ALSO shares with JK Rowling.

Look at these headlines. This is what comes up when I search “Alice walker transphobia.” They clearly label her as a TERF. But they do not make the same claim about her identity as BEING an antisemite. It is removed from her. Antisemitism is clearly not the focus here, which is fine. It is older news. These stories are reporting on her more recent bigotry. Cool.

These are the first results that come up when I search “alice walker antisemitism.”

The first result is from The Times of Israel, which makes sense, because that’s a place where a lot of Jews live and a lot of Jews will be upset by the things she wrote. But it also doesn’t make sense, because Walker is American. Why is the FIRST result about her antisemitism from an international newspaper that happens to have a large Jewish readership?

Why is the NYT headline about how Walker feels about her own bigotry, instead of how her Jewish readers feel?

The New York Magazine Article looked interesting so I clicked it. It was interesting. You should read it. It is an Op-Ed written by a Black, Jewish woman named Nylah Burton. Kudos to her. It was important. And non-Jews need to read it. It was written in 2018.

The Atlantic is next and primarily takes on the work of critiquing a different article in the New Yorker which also minimized the importance and harmful impact of antisemitism.

And then things get interesting. Still, on the first page of results, is this juxtaposition.

Among the many striking things here is the fact that the Jerusalem Post is writing from 2023. Al Jazeera is writing from 2019.

If you’ve read any of the above links or text you will note that yes, Alice Walker’s “offense” is indeed antisemitism. It’s not really debatable. She’s done many, many horrifically antisemitic things.

And yet, Al Jazeera jumps in, unprompted, to defend a known antisemite? Why?????? Oh, because she supports Palestine.

Well…perhaps…just maybe…supporters of Palestine shouldn’t want to leap to the defense of antisemites who spout blatant misinformation about the I/P conflict, demonize the Jews they know personally, and trade in antisemitic conspiracy theories.

Unless of course…they don’t care that they are pushing pro-Palestine Jews out of leftist spaces in the first place.

When did it become acceptable for leftists to excuse someone’s bigotry as long as the bigot agrees with you on other stuff?

#Jews Don’t Count #David Baddiel #the Jewish experience #jumblr #antiracism #antisemitism #leftist antisemitism #Alice Walker #anti racism #I dare a goy to reblog this challenge

[headspace-hotel]

Also relating to fandom and special interests: One weird side effect of fandom being a Huge Thing on the internet, and on the Fandom Website, is that people see "special interests" as mostly fandom-related things, which probably contributes to a lot of misconceptions about what special interests actually are.

I think that fandom tends to snap up a lot of neurodivergent people, and autistic people in particular are very, very overrepresented in online communities, and all of this together has the effect that:

people mistake fandom-related behavior for inherent qualities of special interests

autistic people get caught in the crossfire, so to speak, of every conversation about fandom and "problematic" or bigoted media, because there are always those people who are like "but this is my special interest."

conversations about problematic and bigoted media are often infused with a thread of thinly veiled hatred toward autistic people. This is so hard for me to miss even when I otherwise agree with someone. It's very hard to talk about this because people with no reading comprehension will assume you're defending whatever Media is being discussed, but many people with otherwise legitimate concerns will make comments about "fandom weirdos" being socially unfit shut-ins, or people who are Too Into a thing as adults having something Wrong With Them. A not-insignificant number of people who spread concerns about stuff being bigoted or problematic would be hating on those "fandom weirdos" anyway.

Do y'all have any idea how emotionally exhausting it is for every conversation about problems in fandom to be full of references to a class of Socially Stunted People That Need Their Interests To Process The World

one side of the conversation is always going to be spring-loaded because of the above and also because you don't survive an autistic adolescence without some kind of trauma related to social rejection and your interests. I have strong emotional reactions to posts criticizing fandoms that I'm not even in and that I know nothing about, because the language and sentiments touch a nerve. I don't really have a suggested course of action here, this is just an insight into what's going on and why these conversations get so nasty sometimes

part of the internet seems to think of autism as a form of marginalization lite(tm) that exists only so Fandom Weirdos can excuse their behavior. Outside of circles specifically dedicated to autism, there's a lot more "Autism doesn't mean you aren't privileged in other ways" than discussion of autism in any other context

I'm not really involved in fandom at all these days, so all I'm really getting are the posts criticizing fandom, and this discussion can sometimes be Uncomfortable.

To clarify: I am not saying that you can never criticize fandom or someone's special interest. That is not a thing that I believe or that I am saying. I am saying that conversations criticizing fandom tend to feel weirdly hostile toward autistic people sometimes

[ancientcharm]

Antinous, the beautiful young man who gave his life for love to emperor

Antinous was favorite and lover of emperor Hadrian.

"Antinous died in Egypt after falling into the Nile, according to what Hadrian wrote or, according to what really happened, because he was offered as a sacrifice. Hadrian was a great enthusiast of all kinds of divinations and enchantments. Thus, Hadrian honored Antinous - because of his love for him or because he would have agreed to die freely - since the voluntary surrender of a life was necessary for to achieve what he intended." (Cassio Dio)

"The reason for this would have been that Hadrian wanted to prolong his life and that upon asking a magician to take his place, everyone backed off but Antinous offered to do so." (Aurelius Victor)

Emperor Hadrian (reign: 117-138)

Born on January 24, 76, he was the nephew of his predecessor, Trajan. He was married to Vibia Sabina, grandniece of Trajan, with whom he had a terrible relationship but curiously he loved his mother-in-law, Salonia Matidia (Trajan's niece) like a mother. He is the third of the so-called "Five Good Emperors", however Hadrian was the only one of the five who was not popular either among the people or in the Senate due to his "revolutionary" decisions.

He was the one who stopped - forever - the expansion of the Empire. This was not welcomed at that time because territorial expansion was the soul of Rome since its founding.

He had an almost obsessive admiration for Hellenism, the Romans did not like this either. He was the first to wear a beard, something that the Romans associated with barbarism and "weird people". Years later, his custom would prevail as a fashion in Rome for a lot of years, but for his contemporaries it must have been shocking.

No one before or after him toured the entire empire as Hadrian did, which is why he is known as "The Traveling Emperor." This situation was not well accepted in Rome and even more so when his endless tours were not exactly campaigns to conquer territories.

He used to have sudden attacks of anger becoming aggressive, and hours later he would lament bitterly and try to repair any damage done. This "bipolarity" was seen as a non-Roman attitude.

And finally, the relationship with Antinous. Not because he was a man but because Antinous was not a slave and Hadrian had him in public concubinage, he was always seen next to the emperor and the entire imperial entourage. If he had been a young lady it would also have been considered inappropriate.

But during his long reign of 21 years there were no conspiracies nor rebellions against him; Because despite everything, he was a good emperor.

Unfortunately there are no historical sources about the life of Antinous but, thanks to his sculptures, it is known that he was a very handsome young man. As a teenager - but let us remember that the notion of adolescence did not exist in the ancient world - he met Hadrian in Bithynia. From that moment until the day of his death, when he was around 20 years old, he did not separate from Hadrian.

What really happened on the Nile

Antinous as Osiris- Vatican Museums.

After listening to a lecture and reading, I discovered that shortly before the death of Antinous, the emperor began to feel ill to the point that he feared an imminent death. But as was his custom, instead of looking for medicine, he looked for "magic spells" in the East.

When he arrived in Egypt with Antinous on October 24, 130, the arrival coincided (and was not so coincidental) with the religious festival that commemorated the death of Osiris, drowned in the Nile and then resurrected by his wife Isis. Goddess Isis was invoked in healing incantations.

Cassius Dion's suspicions are the same as other Roman historians as well as modern ones, because the death of Antinous was "coincidentally" during that religious ritual.

But those same historians agree that it was not Hadrian who asked Antinous to sacrifice himself. As the Roman historian Aurelius Victor wrote, he asked a magician for the sacrifice, but that man and the others backed away, so Antinous voluntarily decided to enter the Nile.

It is very likely that he really believed in those practices, that is, he believed that by doing this, his emperor could heal and live longer. Following the death of Antinous, Hadrian deified him.

#roman emperors #ancient history #roman empire #ancient rome #History

[breakfastteatime]

Today's request is 'Sleepwalking' for @iamcalmiamthestorm :D

It is rare indeed for Merrin to be the first one awake. Cere is still fast asleep in her bunk, and when Merrin ventures out into the living space, Greez, Cal and BD-1 are all absent. Sunlight shows through their lodging’s windows. They have been on Forest Moon 1138, an old Republic scientific research base, for a week now, recuperating from Nur. They will not need to stay for much longer. Merrin will be sad to leave it, the snowy forest such a new experience for her. However, there is an entire galaxy out there, and she intends to see more of it as soon as possible.

Merrin is halfway through a cup of tea when Greez comes in, yawning and stretching. BD-1 is close behind him, hopping up onto the table and looking around. He beeps, but Merrin cannot understand him, and she apologises for this. BD-1 turns to Greez for help with a demanding trill.

“Oh, right, sorry, BD. Still half asleep I guess,” Greez says. “You seen Cal around?” he asks Merrin. “Pretty weird for him to be up before me.”

She stares at the pair. Has she seen Cal? They are the ones sharing a dorm room with him. “He was not here when I got up earlier.” And she has been up for almost an half an hour now.

There is an immediate sense of alarm in the room. Greez hurries off to check the refresher, only to come back and announce he found it empty. Merrin immediately knows this is not good, and she goes to get Cere. Thankfully, Cere is up and dressed. “Wherever he is, I can sense that he’s alright,” she says. “Although his presence is cloudy.” She finishes pulling on a boot. “We must find him.”

Cere, Merrin and BD-1 set up a search party while Greez agrees to stay behind and call if Cal returns by himself. He also starts preparing warm drinks and thick blankets. Given that Cal’s boots and poncho are all still in the base, he is likely to be very, very cold.

“Kid’s sleepwalking,” Greez surmises. “We never thought to set up an alert system here for that. Who knows how long he’s been gone. Ugh, I knew I shoulda put a bell on him.”

“He’s alive,” Cere says, holding out an arm so BD can hop onto her shoulders. “Don’t worry, Greez. We’ll find him.”

“Good. And I’ll find a bell we can tie to him while I wait.”

Clad in cold weather gear, Merrin shoulders a pack with extras for Cal. It is very cold outside, colder than it has been in days, meaning the snow has frozen so completely there are no footprints for them to follow. Merrin watches Cere close her eyes and reach for the Force. She had explained her old role as a Seeker, a Jedi who sought out Force-sensitive children. She is obviously a little rusty, and someone with training like Cal would be able to shield their presence, however if they are both right and Cal is sleepwalking, perhaps he will be unable to shield at all.

“My sisters would sometimes sleepwalk however I think it has a different meaning for Jedi. For a Nightsister to sleepwalk is to move through dreams or visions while the body remains in place,” Merrin tells Cere as they move into the woodland surrounding the base.

“That is true for many Jedi too, although I was not one of them,” Cere says. “However, Cal is the kind to take it rather literally. He may eventually outgrow the habit. I think it’s less of a Jedi trait and more of an adolescent one.”

“We can hope,” Merrin says. “And then he will have to learn to sleepwalk properly.”

“Perhaps,” Cere says with a faint smile.

Merrin can hear the distraction and worry in the older woman’s voice. “We will find him,” she says. “He will not have gone far.”

It’s a surprisingly prescient comment as just a few minutes later BD squeals joyfully and launches himself off Cere’s shoulders. He rockets through the trees to where Cal stands with his back to them.

Merrin wastes no time teleporting herself to his side, reaching him first. They are on the edge of a frozen lake, the far edge lost to a snowy fog. Cal stares into the fog, glassy eyed. BD catches up, launching himself onto Cal’s back where he immediately starts beeping loudly.

Cal takes a deep, thoughtful breath. “No, it’s fine. I’ll have it paid by Primeday. I always do.”

He starts to walk forward. Merrin intercepts him, bracing his shoulders with her hands. “Cal!” she shouts, the voices of her sisters joining her. “Wake up!”

He blinks slowly, feet staggering. “Wha –” Confused and surprised, he tips backward, but Cere’s there too, and together she and Merrin manage to drag him to a nearby log and sit him down. His bare feet are a terrible sight to behold, and now he’s awake, he’s shivering violently. “Where am I?” he asks through chattering teeth.

“Where you should not be,” Merrin tells him. She crouches down, pulls the pack off her back, and digs out the supplies. “This is not how you are supposed to sleepwalk, Cal Kestis.” She remains unimpressed by Jedi teachings.

Confused and helpless, he turns to Cere for support. Cere shrugs. “She’s not wrong.”

BD-1 beeps and buzzes, throwing himself at Cal. Merrin wishes she understood him better, as whatever he says makes Cal chuckle and hug his friend close. “Thanks, BD. You are warm.”

“How are you feeling?” Cere asks as Merrin wrestles a pair of thick socks onto Cal’s torn up feet. They can fix it all back at the base.

Cal yawns. “Sleepy,” he says. His half-lidded eyes make him look like he’s been on the swamp nectar. Resting his head on BD’s is not helping him to look more awake. He yawns again and BD jabs him. “Stop. I’m awake.”

Merrin looks to Cere who shakes her head. They need to keep him awake if they are going to make it back to the base quickly. “What dream did you walk in?” she asks him.

“I didn’t walk in a dream,” he mumbles. He’s tilting to one side, well on his way to drifting off again.

“You said you will have ‘it’ paid off by Primeday. What is ‘it’?” Merrin asks.

Cal doesn’t answer.

Cere gives BD a nod, and BD whistles gleefully as he jabs his scomp link into Cal’s thigh and shocks him. Gently. Cal still leaps so high off the log he nearly tips backward. “Ow!” he gasps. “What was that for?”

“Good work, BD,” Merrin says, throwing a woollen poncho over Cal’s head. “He is awake.”

Cal grumbles the whole way back to the base, most of it slurred nonsense because he is hypothermic and half asleep. Merrin leads the way while Cere asks him every question she can think of to keep him awake. Cal is grumpy about it, so BD rides on his back, electricity crackling every time he even looks like he might fall asleep.

When they reach the base, Greez is there with tea for all, warm blankets and a medkit. Stepping back, Merrin watches as Cal lets the others fuss over him. Or is fussed over whether he likes it or not. Sometimes it is hard to tell, especially when Cal’s head is already tipped back and he’s dozing again. She smiles at the sight of him, and of BD-1 nestling down under the blankets thrown over Cal. Scourge of the Empire indeed. Merrin has not been with these people long, but already she knows they will always be a part of her life.

…although maybe she really should teach Cal how to properly sleepwalk before they have a repeat of this morning’s adventure.

#star wars jedi: fallen order #jfo minific #jfo headcanon #fic requests 2023 #cal kestis #bd 1 #merrin #cere junda #greez dritus #mantis crew #found family feels

[katyspersonal]

List Master Willem’s war crimes for the judge and jury, please!

Alright this is genuinely a good question! I'll start with a plain one:

1) Fishing Hamlet massacre is Willem's order

Sorry, Laurence only condoned two massacres, not three. xD We yet can see he did have a good teacher in more ways than one hfsdhffd And it is definitely not hard to guess what was the reasoning:

2) The OG grave-robber

Obscure lore because it is locked to an item most players never found as it's gathered through unlikely platformer. But yeah, he and his friends done it before Tomb Prospectors made it cool XD Furthermore, some Chalice Rituals materials are found within Byrgenwerth (Red Jelly, Pearl Slug).

Granted, since Gehrman and Maria are associated with Byrgenwerth and Old Hunter Vitus is a summon in the Dungeons, he could have rather used aid of the Old Hunters instead of terrorising leftovers of Pthumerian civilisation himself. Maybe what he and his friends did was simply checking! But in that case, bothering Pthumerians was still his order, similarly to Fishing Hamlet.

3) Something to do with the infants..

There are multiple fetuses found in Byrgenwerth, in two variants: a petrified one (a common sign of strong Arcane exposure) and a 'cursed' one (with horns and multiple tiny skulls):

This is a large room for speculation on whether they were somehow lab-grown, or kidnapped from the Dungeons... Or, maybe, they were forcibly conceived in test subjects? Commoners that live in the woods around Byrgenwerth, kidnapped Pthumerians, whatever. To "lighten" the mood, maybe volunteer scholars? In either case, something heavily unethical happened here. The reason MUST have been the Great Ones' infants umbilical cords:

We are fighting adolescent (?) version of OoK, whereas their real 'presence' that we sever to destroy the heart of the Nightmare is a much smaller form, so, very likely, OoK was stolen as an infant, from the womb of Kos, and his cord was retracted.

(Side note: it is not necessary that the cord Fauxsefka drops was stolen from Byrgenwerth, let alone that it was the cord of OoK specifically, since she only drops it after Bloodmoon. I think that either she got pregnant like Arianna, especially since she is a Vileblood too, or she was on her way to be reborn into a GO infant like Paleblood Hunter does in the New Beginnings ending! The latter is very possible since that ending is only accessible after eating 3 cords, so, after gaining a lot of Insight, which Fauxsefka does! Basically we don't know the fate of OoK's cord, but nonetheless it is likely that Willem still had it!)

4) Was Rom's fate his fault?

This is the potential one rather than apparent! There is a common assumption that he was experimenting on Rom, supported also by the fact that Byrgenwerth is the only place where Gardens of Eyes type of Kin are found (otherwise they're only found in generated Chalice Dungeons, so, "non canon" ones). Granted, there is a lot to talk about Amygdalae and Nightmare Apostles involvement with the 'Spiders', as well as Patches the Spider being in Byrgenwerth! Still:

Not an unreasonable assumption! Though it is up to interpretation whether Rom was forcibly experimented on, groomed by him to "agree" to it for greater good as Byrgenwerth is hardcore gatekeepers, volunteered herself, or did have that weird involvement with 'Spiders' and Willem simply utilised the (unwell) result by at least hiding it in the Lake. Another sidenote though is that by the game's events, Rom is THE person concealing Mensis Ritual, and Willem is the one to urge our Hunter to hunt her with his scepter!

(Backing this up because there might be people that didn't play BB yet since Sony hates fun and joy)

So I think whatever was his reason to hide her in the Moonside Lake was not Mensis Ritual; he did not see it coming back then, and now understands what has to be done to stop it! (Damn, this brings back memories, this issue was one of my very first loredigs...)

5) Willem secretly orchestrated the Choir?

This is the second potential one. Yurie was strangely titled The Last Scholar, and considering her spot, I can only think of the implication of her returning in the walls of Byrgenwerth! There is a secret cave in the woods (most likely the one Fauxsefka invaded from) that allowed communication with Byrgenwerth, as well as White Church Set is found in the Woods! And furthermore, Gatekeeper that guards the entrance to the Woods on the way in Byrgenwerth uses the adage coined in by Willem as the password, and adopted by the Healing Church!

From the looks of it, the way to Byrgenwerth was not only declared to be a forbidden area, but even hidden from the "lower rank" Healing Church staff, as Alfred says gatekeeper would not open. That'd mean he doesn't know the adage, when Amelia must be. Choir and School of Mensis are higher echelons of the Healing Church, and as you can see, Yurie(Choir) is an NPC there, whereas Damian(Mensis) is a summon there! My interpretation here is that communication with Byrgenwerth remained, just that Healing Church made effort to hide it so the unsightly, as Simon put it, secrets of their origins REMAIN secrets.

(For lyrics: ( x )) The petrified spider found in Altar of Grief IS possibly Rom! That theory could be easily discarded at the first glance because the legs don't match, but they do, as you can see from the holes in her Lake form! Lyrics of Ebrietas' song also seem to refer to Mensis Ritual, as if she knows what has to be done to stop it when she cherished Rom for one reason or another and cries at her "grave".

Willem could have had connection with Ebrietas from the start. And, hell, he should have pulled the biggest "told you so" face when Laurence's Healing Church first took a big route around to try and mess with the Deep Sea, and only through so many failed experiments decided to seek the guidance of the Stars instead, and find the 'right' way to aspire for ascension:

Myazaki please stop tormenting me enough is enough sfhdhfd So, the way things likely happened: Willem was able to tell 'Stars' was the way to go even before meeting Ebrietas in person, Laurence separated from Byrgenwerth to try out Blood Ministration when Willem already warned him it was dangerous, then his Healing Church had attempts to dive into Deep Sea for the eyes (if Micolash and Rom somehow had nothing to do with it I am suing everyone fdhfhds), then turned out patients are doing better seeking Stars (Lumenflowers balcony) and it even happens besides their will (Living Failures), they find Ebrietas and reform Research Hall into Choir/Orphanage, they focus on Eyes when Laurence favours Blood and Hunt more, they remember what Willem told them from the start and seek him, eventually people like Yurie and Rom return to their roots for the lack of better term. As for Fauxsefka, either 1) she returned with Yurie but then changed her mind on being a lazy fence-sitter and rage-quit 2) she invaded Byrgenwerth later on, after 'Choir's ways differed from Willem', might have stolen a cord from there but we don't know 3) she never even invaded and her story goes separately, but she IS from Choir's era of 'differing from Willem', that Yurie didn't catch onto.

...what I am saying, is that for all we know, experiments on the orphans and maybe-grooming Rom into sacrificing herself were under his doing, behind Laurence's back, even. Too bad that Micolash in the end turned out to be more cunning than EVERYONE in this scheme, but still, Willem could have played not the last role here! Poor Laurence, so ambitious yet so very dim.

____________________________

So yeah... This might not seem like much, especially as part of this is speculation, but I think this paints the picture of 'mad researcher' character that appears in basically every Soulsborne game at least once x) Laurence and Micolash maybe have created the main mess of the story, but even if they never existed, with Willem, there would be a lot of unethical experiments, a lot of extermination of "less intelligent" species, and a lot of dead infants! He is guilty not as much for teaching Laurence and, likely, Micolash (the boys still had their agency), but for just being himself lol. ROFL at the guy ordering to kill a pregnant mother and her baby and their worshippers in order to learn how to stop being barbaric as human beings fdjhhfdsds

#bloodborne #provost willem #bloodborne headcanons #bloodborne observation #ask replies #use later #helllll yeah let willem be the war criminal!!!!!!! #damn this post made me sweat a lot hahaha what a character

[mysisters-bike]

do you think dylan experienced psychosis?

ooooo this is a good question! thank you!

let’s break down psychosis based on research published in 2020 regarding adolescents presenting psychosissymptoms but not having a comorbid psychotic disorder. note: psychosis may also be called attenuated psychosis syndrome (APS). based on what i know, psychosis is more of a generalized term because we see attenuate vs non-attenuated, and attenuated means reduced. i think there are also a lot of instances where it’s difficult to differentiate between the two; we see bipolar I with psychosis as a common diagnosis, whereas with bipolar II, you would see an attenuated version of mania (hypo-mania). so i hope that makes sense.

Per Salazar de Pueblo et. al (2020), “A considerable number of adolescents hospitalized with non-psychotic psychiatric disorders meet DSM-5-APS criteria. These help-seeking adolescents have more comorbid disorders and more severe symptoms, functional impairment, and severity of illness than non-APS adolescents. Thus, they warrant high intensity clinical care.”

basically, this study found that it’s not necessary to have a psychotic disorder (schizophrenia for example). now, we’ve explored the theory that dylan was schizotypal, which was according to dr. langman. i don’t disagree there were bits and pieces of this diagnosis that make sense, but i don’t feel it’s necessarily correct. i stand by that dylan was emotionally stunted and suffered from the golden larvae syndrome and may have had ocd. if not ocd, anxiety still produces the same repetitive thought patterns, and ocd is an apple on the anxiety tree. i hope that also makes sense!

now, psychosis episodes are marked by: hallucinations, disorganized speech, delusions, things of that sort. i don’t believe dylan suffered from hallucinations. compare his writing to those who do experience psychotic hallucinations, it’s impossible to read or comprehend. while mania is not necessarily psychosis, they do share symptoms. i will not use my patients as examples so i will use a recent personal example of a friend who had a manic episode and was later arrested and hospitalized. their social media posts were unreadable. they would take a photo of a neighbor’s house and cover the screen with a massive, tiny-text paragraph, then add new text over that, then put another small picture over that, and then animated song lyrics over that…that’s really similar to what journal entries by someone experiencing psychosis looks like. unreadable, incoherent, and kind of scary looking. dylan’s journals are not incoherent. i recently discussed his weird speech patterns here; i believe they were a product of teenage celebrity-worship.

now, another thing we could argue is the symptom of dissociation, which i would agree was certainly plausible in his case. however, dissociation doesn’t necessarily equate psychosis. i would expect someone as severely anxious and depressed as him to feel “out of body.”

what are your thoughts?

references:

Salazar de Pablo, G., Guinart, D,. Cornblatt, B. A., Auther, A. M., Carrion, R. E., Carbon, M., Jimenez-Fernandez, S., Vernal, D. L., Walitza, S., Gerstenberg, M., Saba, R., Lo Casio, N., Brandizzi, M., Arango, C., Moreno, C., Van Meter, A., Fusar-Poli, P.., & Cornell, C. U. (2020). DSM-5 attenuated psychosis syndrome in adolescents hospitalized with non-psychotic psychiatric disorders. Front. Psychiatry, 11. doi: 10.3389/fpsyt.2020568982

(^ holy fuck that’s a big study lmao)

#dylan klebold #columbine #eric harris #true crime #tcc #true crime community

[findafight]

On Steve understanding those pretentious metaphorical films (I know, we'vepretty much moved on at this point, but) I do think it would get Jonathan questioning reality a little bit, but I think the person it would really mindfuck is Nancy

Because she's a very straightforward person but she also fancies herself the smartest person in the room at all times, which doesn't slot itself into this context very well. As does Jonathan, she has this perception that Steve is an idiot, but while Jonathan is having to contend with Steve being on level with him on this one, Nancy is having to grapple the idea that Steve intrinsically grasps something that she for the life of her can't figure out

-@fandsart

I sent this a few days ago, but I think tumblr has been eating my asks. You aren't the only person I've sent one to recently that hasn't been answered. Anyway, I know this has largely been moved past, but on the whole "Jonathan having a crisis over Steve understanding the metaphorical and complicated foreign films" thing. I think that Jonathan might have a hard time with that and start questioning his judgment of people, yes, but the person really questioning reality as a whole about it is Nancy. Because while both Jonathan and Nancy have this low perception of Steve's ability to comprehend thing, Nancy specifically fancies herself as the smartest person in the room at all times, but she can't understand these things for the life of her. She's angry and confused and trying to convince herself that she's neither of these things

I got it! I started writing a response and saved as a draft and didn't get back to it! Honestly I love going back to things talked about a while ago so don't feel weird about that!

I agree! I also think it'd be interesting to apply this to horror movies, which often serve as allegories for other things. Like I can see them watching Carrie and Steve commenting that it's kind of weird that a story about the trauma of adolescents for girls was written by a man. Which is maybe heavy handed but it's something that Nancy would feel like she should have picked up on and be frustrated that she didn't. No one is doing adolescent teenager girl trauma like Nancy!!

But it's just not how her brain works. She likes facts and figures, interviews and observations. Metaphors aren't really in real life, though we use them to understand things, they aren't always straight forward. While Nancy wants to research and discover things, she possibly isn't interested in more... obscured meanings of things. (we sort of see this when she dismisses the alien newspaper, when they were actively looking for clues about something that could break all of someones without touching them!) and this might also influence how she views steve and his intelligence and how he views and interpret things.

She does think she's correct and how she thinks and sees things. and that frustration and stubbornness about being right would make her more frustrated because now that it's been pointed out to her, she sees it, but she didn't figure it out herself. It's an interesting way for her to try to grapple with having her worldview challenged!

With jon I think he would feel kind of off-kilter and embarrassed that Steve of all people got it, that this wasn't something he could feel he was better at than Steve or any random person. So that would maybe shift his view of Steve more than himself, but still both?

#findaanswers #fandsart #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #just. steve letting out random but insightful observations and surprising people! #he thinks in metaphors and tries to process in metaphors

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Harry's Son | BODY BACK Update #5

We are BACK for the FINALLLL BODY BACK update! This book has haunted me since February and it's time to finally stop talking about it (lying)! Harrison wrestles with sonhood, contemplates shame, breaks a heart, & more!

Update under the cut!

Logline: Unwilling to confront reality, Harrison--at what may be the expense of Jeremiah--arrives at a house party where he unexpectedly examines his relationship with his estranged father.

Update 1 | Update 2 | Update 3 | Update 4

BODY BACK taglist (since this is the last update this list will no longer be used!)

@thelivingdeceased @writinglittlebeasts @cuntylittlesalmon @obssesedwithscandaledits @jaydewritesfiction@onomatopiya @euphoniouspandemonium @silassghost @strangerays @rodentwrites @wildswrites @saltwaterbells @encrucijada @cilantrospirit @kiki-is-writing @dallonwrites

Concepts within concepts within concepts...

The phrase "Harry's son" originally appeared in the first draft of the chapter 2 bathroom scene. In that draft, Harrison told his mother, "Harry's son? I'm nobody's son," THOUGH I eventually revised it so this became internal narrative instead after a critique I agreed with.

The meaning of the name Harrison is quite literally "son of Harry" and I was intrigued by what Harrison thinks of that, considering his strained relationship with his dad. While his father's name is not literally Harry, I was interested by what it meant for him to be named, in a sense, after his own sonhood.

During my chapter 2 revision, I removed the ��Harry's son" dialogue, however there was something deeply vulnerable about Harrison admitting he felt disconnected from sonhood to me, and I wanted to emphasize that more in the draft. That's how I settled on naming the final chapter!

Theme informs plot

Thematically this chapter explores sonhood and naturally, fatherhood. The relationship between father and son wasn't a theme I'd explored previously in BB, but the chapter title of course warranted that exploration.

It was therefore most natural to start with a flashback between Harrison and his father (who is no longer in his life), and I LOVED seeing how this single theme alone informed the rest of the plot. We get to see how sonhood informs how Harrison interacts with himself, particularly in his relationship with intimacy (in adolescence and now also in his 20s RIPPP JEREMIAH).

The writing process

I lowkey struggledddd with this chapter, which is strange because it turned out pretty much exactly the way I wanted it to! Endings are always weird for me, no matter how clear of an idea I have for them. I had to edit and tweak MANY scenes in order for them to feel whole, and I didn't think I liked this chapter until I gave it a long, long rest.

The plot

CW: abuse, drug use, bullying, assault, homophobia, trauma

Harry's son starts in flashback, but the timeline is technically shortly after the end of No Christ!

Scene A:

In a teenage flashback, Harrison recalls his last memory of his father.

Scene B:

In the fictive present, Harrison lies next to a sleeping Jeremiah. Angry at himself, he plans on leaving but on his way out steals Jeremiah's magic mushrooms (which he takes lol bruh).

Scene Ca:

Tripping, Harrison ends up at a house party in need of release. He meets a man he instantly clicks with but who rejects him upon recognizing Harrison's frenzied state. Offended, Harrison and the man argue and the experience is oddly paternalistic.

Scene Cb:

Startled by what the man has said, Harrison recalls an early relationship he had with a boy named Valentine. Breaking out of the flashback, the man asks Harrison about shame to which he runs away (lol so real).

Scene D:

Frantically looking for a way out of the party, Harrison ends up in a bathroom where he runs into a man he quickly realizes is his own reflection.

Scene E:

On the lawn outside, Jeremiah wakes a dazed Harrison up. Biyu who is with him convinces him to leave and he eventually does (aka Haremiah breakup!!).

Scene F:

Sober and alone the next day, Harrison, with nowhere else to go, heads to a church.

Excerpts:

The full first scene! Also his childhood home being a bungalow makes no sense but like <3 I love that word <3 CW: implications of physical abuse.

The last memory Harrison has of his father is blurry, a moment shaken like a snow globe. He could’ve been nine. He could’ve been fifteen. But he’s sitting on the curb of his childhood home—a mid-century bungalow on the corner lot. His nose is bleeding. He’s not sure why. If he walked into a wall. If he asked for orange juice the wrong way. Sun glazes the neighbourhood and he’s there, legs outstretched on the resealed driveway, holding a palm to his upper lip. His dad mows the sparse grass behind him, but it’s been so long that he can’t see his face, or maybe it’s too vague to process as he weaves between the lawn’s birch trees. A neighbour blasts the radio up the road—Mariah, maybe Oasis. His father waves at a passing woman. Her hair is redder than Suz’s, her crow’s feet sharper, like knives. She delivers the neighbourhood’s papers. Sandra? Kristen? She lives three houses up, gives out full-sized Kit-Kats on Halloween. Nice weather, she might say—all he remembers is her smile. Every single tooth visible and narrow like rosary beads. Blood drips into his mouth. He’s not sure where to find tissues. He should get up now. Wash his hands. Run north. Find his mother.

His father turns off the mower and leans on the handle. Want to come inside for lemonade? he might ask, fingering his shirt collar, the line from his wedding band long tanned over. Whether the woman says yes or no doesn’t matter. The moment she rounds the sidewalk, she spots Harrison and is so startled she clutches her chest and breathless, asks, “Is that a ghost?”

Harrison analyzes Jeremiah in the dark:

Harrison listens to Jeremiah’s heartbeat. In the moon’s silken light, he traces his chest, fingers absorbing each thud, thud, thud. Asleep, his breaths are lighter than usual and it dawns on Harrison that he’s aware of this difference—how he inhales when awake, how he inhales when he laughs, how he inhales on Mondays before an early shift at Greta, how he inhales when he’s winning at Scrabble, how he inhales when he’s losing at Scrabble, how he inhales when he’s on a karaoke stage, how he inhales the moment he walks off, how he inhales before saying grace, how he inhales when kissed.

Harrison considers his own vulnerability (CW: descriptions of a dead animal):

When he was younger, he and Suzanna watched a nature documentary about hyenas. A group of cubs feasted on the head of a giraffe, left its body hollow. He’s not sure why he thinks of it now. Perhaps the look in his eye. Something dead, or perhaps startled. He leans forward, grips his jaw until he’s wincing. Jeremiah just touched him here, kiss satiny, elegant. He hadn’t commented on the bruise around Harrison’s throat except to blow on it like a mother might blow on a busted knee and say, almost inaudibly, “I’m so sorry this happened to you.” Harrison hadn’t considered that anything had happened to him. He happens to other people. He’s not that oblivious. But still. He wasn’t sure what motivated Jeremiah to kiss his eyelids, tell him he was angelic, a beautiful boy. He couldn’t tell if he deserved that grace. Why he’d ended up next to a man so willing to soothe his faults he forgot to guard his own. Harrison held him like he was an hourglass losing and gaining sand simultaneously.

Jeremiah tries to comfort Harrison because he's actually a really nice person:

Harrison cried when Jeremiah kissed the gash on his forehead, told him he was safe here. What had he done to warrant protection? Jeremiah kissed his stomach and said he was warm, worthy. Jeremiah twirled one of his curls and said he had a good heart—strong, covered with daisies. That was what, a few hours ago? How fast can goodness wear off in a man? In the dim mirror, Harrison should see that person Jeremiah described—worthy like a knight to valour, romantic as a damask rose. But he’s just someone’s son, a copy-and-pasted scattering of his mother’s nose, his father’s eyes.

Harrison thinks about identity and a future with Lonan:

The last time he knew who he was, he’d been wrestling with Lonan in a tent, his smile so wide it hurt. He’d been so sure of everything back then—he would drive Lonan from Oregon back to Boston, or Brooklyn, or wherever he wanted to go. They’d rent a brownstone in Sunset Park, spend half of move-in day making out in a scarred bathroom. Screen Lang’s Die Nibelungen on a projector in the kitchen. Adopt a cat. Buy each other the same socks year after year for Christmas. But Lonan’s not here, disappeared in some inaccessible plane. And if that is true, then Harrison must also be gone.

Harrison robs Jeremiah (the last line is on the BB dust jacket! - CW: drug mention):

He stoops to Jeremiah’s jacket at the foot of the bed—terra cotta suede. He pockets a loose nickel and a strip of gum, then yanks out his wallet from the breast pocket. He tells himself he’s going through it only for that baggie of Tylenol Jeremiah had pulled out at the restaurant. Even when his fingers brush up against twenties, fifties, he’s committed only to the painkillers. But the instant he touches something else—a different baggie bulging with mushrooms, there’s no doubt he’s going to break that promise. What other choice does he have? He’s just a man after all, and who sins better?

In Harrison's head, this is the Haremiah breakup:

In the dark motel room, Harrison looks up at Jeremiah. He’s a good guy. A good friend. Looks even younger when asleep and even less aware. “I love you,” Harrison whispers to the still air. He doesn’t even mean it. “I love you.” One day, he hopes he’s nothing but a story Jeremiah tells. Someone to laugh at over mimosas, to curse while knee-to-knee with an improved lover. Jeremiah, this world doesn’t know what it has. Jeremiah, hold yourself dearly. Jeremiah, I’m not coming back. Jeremiah, forgive me when you’re older.

Harrison again thinks about Jesus... fondly lol:

The house’s walls whorl like a spinning top. Suzanna bought him one of those when he was a kid, wooden, painted rainbow. He should call her. Find a phone in someone’s throat. Beg to go to voicemail, to be picked up, to be kicked out of her place where he can rot on the side of the road. He passes a room with two couches stacked on top of each other, or perhaps those are just people, mewing against bare skin like cats. His jaw is slack, hungry for something—Jesus? Or any other man?

Harrison seeks vengeance against his father and also thinks about Lonan again:

He needs to find his father right now. He couldn’t have gone far—perhaps he’s still in that suburban fever dream, mowing the lawn. Harrison could find out. Once, he was so motivated to drive a man back east with much less than eight hours of sleep and he could do the same for himself now. He needs to crouch in a musty closet. Pray to a god he doesn’t believe in. Kill his father with his bare hands.

Harrison bumps into "the man" and needs to chill! Also the "one man show" dialogue is parroted from Perry in chapter 3:

Maybe they kiss on their way to the kitchen. Maybe Harrison bites the man’s jewelry off with his teeth, chews, swallows. He’s starving. Why does it matter? The air is florid and gelatinous—like walking through a vat of women’s body wash. On the kitchen counter, Harrison finds a cyan punch bowl. He loads up another glass as the man watches him, downs one, then another. Under a bar light, the man is easier to see—brown-skinned, hazel-eyed, the stud on his upper lip shaped like a star. He could be beautiful. He could be the kind of man Harrison would’ve drooled over as a teenager. Older. Harder. Wiser. “You’re like a one man show,” Harrison says, then yanks him closer by the elbow. Maybe he’s hiding God in his mouth.

Harrison being embarrassing in narrative:

Harrison swipes at his lips, breathless. “What are you doing?” His eyes feel like the centre of an optical illusion, eternal even if you know exactly where the end is. “How old are you?” asks the man. His stare is resinous. Unyielding. Harrison pushes forward, but the man is too strong. He feels like a child when he tries again to no avail, his body thin, useless, and even younger when the best thing he can think to say is, “Guess.” “Look,” the man says, already turning his back. “Does someone know you’re here? A friend or something?”

14-year-old Harrison flashback when his father disappears for a couple days ft. Valentine!! (CW: self-harm mention):

It was June, the air so humid it was like walking through a spider’s web. The most Harrison could do to entertain himself was read the same copy of The Adventures of Tom Sawyer his father kept on the dining room table. He’d tried solving the 1000-piece puzzle of Big Ben that Suz had bought his father years before but gave up before he even finished the frame. By Tuesday, he was so bored he considered slitting his own palms to at least keep himself busy for a few hours while staunching the bleeding. He went on a walk instead. A five-dollar bill he’d pocketed a year before from his dad’s wallet crinkled in his pocket. It doesn’t matter where he was trying to go or what he meant to find—if he meant to find anything. Who he ran into was Valentine, a scrawny, towheaded boy who’d had a growth spurt that year and frequently smelled of bleach. They were in the same grade. Hadn’t ever said hello to each other. Valentine stood at the intersection near the high school, probably on his way to the convenience store for a packet of Cry Babies. He wore a red fleece vest—too hot for the weather. His chin was pocked with acne scars. One moment, Harrison was staring, shielding his eyes from the sun, and the next, he and Valentine were crouched against a dumpster, their mouths hot and wet like a winter glove chucked into the dryer and taken out too early.

Things take a saddddd turn w/ Valentine (mini ramble here to say I'd never thought much of Harrison's EARLY experiences w/ his sexuality/the joys and difficulties he encountered in his explorations and this section of the chapter almost killed me lol THIS MAN NEEDS LOVE):

It didn’t seem possible, then, how Harrison had invited Valentine back to his house, both aware his father had been gone that day and the day before and the day before, both sweaty, doe-eyed, panting, young. How they should’ve walked past Gingerbread House in Bay Ridge on the long way home, chatted about who they were backing in the ’98 NBA Finals. How Harrison knew there was a half-eaten packet of Schneider’s hot dogs in the fridge he could doctor into something more substantial with a single frozen TV dinner. How as they approached his house, he didn’t even need to see his father’s pickup to know he was there. From twenty feet away, he heard the radio—the Sean Hannity Show. He should’ve run. Everything buzzed inside him to, and he could’ve, scooped Valentine’s hand within his own and sprinted down the sweltering sidewalk until the sun went down. They could’ve gone anywhere, hitchhiked all the way to east Indiana, or west Texas. They could’ve spent the rest of their teenage years eyelash to eyelash, sour mouthed and in love on Sunday mornings.

CW: Physical abuse - Baby Harrison contemplates faith (sooo interesting considering he was raised an atheist):

Days later, when Harrison lay on his bed with a bag of frozen peas on his eyes, he’d considered the possibility of divine intervention. A god had tipped his father off. A ghost—perhaps the ghost of his mother. It was nonsensical. He couldn’t see through that eye until the end of July.

CW: assault - Baby Harrison is jumped by Valentine's older brother:

After a half hour, he was so dizzy, he thought he was dying. He wouldn’t see his mother again, would he? He’d tallied every day she’d been gone on sticky notes—he’d already gone through an entire pad. Suz would’ve known exactly what to do if she’d seen him like this, bound to the ground like a tacked butterfly. Her jeans muddying with dust as she crouched to her son, her hands warm, gripping his face, her saying he was beautiful just the way he was, he was beautiful, beautiful, beautiful. He wanted to believe that vision into reality. But no one was coming for him.

CW: implied homophobia - Baby Harrison hopes for help in an adult who happens upon the above scene. && WHO SHAMED YOU:

He stood over Harrison, who’d started to cry. His mustache was woolly, belly round. A cigarette dangled between his fingers. There was something soft in his eyes. Harrison thought it was pity at first. Then he said, “Up now, boy. What did you expect?” and he knew it was disgust. Now, the man from the party stands in front of Harrison. For a second, he has to blink to ensure he’s not still there in that lot, staring up at a man he hopes will help him. His head’s falling off. His eyes are on fire. What had they been talking about? There’s something about shame. The man steps forward. Harrison recoils even though no one has touched him. Some partygoers have entered the kitchen now, all congregating around the punch bowl like Harrison had. The bang of music from outside follows them as they chatter and the noise is like an ice pick to the brain and Harrison wants to tell them all to leave, Harrison wants to bolt from this city, Harrison wants to be someone else’s son for a day just to see if that might fix him. “Who shamed you?” asks the man. Harrison inhales, aware he feels like a deer just about to be shot. He glances at the others here with them—their golf ball eyes, their pearl necklaces, then glances at the door. He can’t look at the man again. If wisdom is a weapon, Harrison’s a prey animal, so gullible, death a requirement of his life. The man opens his mouth again. Harrison runs.

Harrison's "excuse me while I run I really gotta get out of here" moment (FUN FACT is this first sentence is an exact mirror of the first sentence of the book!):

Harrison doesn’t need a god so much as he needs a way out. He parts glittering people with his elbows, his heart a pendulum ticking. He needs an exit sign bleeding in neon letters. He needs to cab back to Brooklyn—not to find his father, but to hide. He needs to go back to Eliza’s apartment and sit in the parking lot for hours until someone—anyone, a shadow of a man with cold hands, a phantom who sins as much as he prays—comes out. It doesn’t matter who he nudges, if one is a woman who looks vaguely like Biyu, if she curses when he shoves her out of the way, if one is a man with a shiny upper lip who says Harrison’s kind of cute and would he like to kiss him? He’s no Jacob fleeing Laban, he’s just a man trapped in a party, his vision pooling pink, orange, neon green. Who shamed you? He hates the shape of that question. His mother is disappointed in him, his father too—this is their white flag. A failure with Jeremiah, a failure at this party, a failure in sonhood. As he moves, that question bleats. Down a set of stairs. Who shamed you? Back up two. Who shamed you?

He's kinda going through it? (CW: violence) this is one of my favourite parts of the whole book!

He’s too aware when he’s high but worse when he’s not, the losing player in his own zero-sum game. He’s a loser—he is lost here, the walls around him shaped like a mouth, two mouths, three, all slick and shouting the same words—who shamed you? Who shamed you? Who shamed you? Harrison gapes, unable to escape. Someone tells him to watch where he’s going. Someone grabs him by the throat. Someone helps him up the stairs, and someone else kicks him back down. Someone reads his fortune on a daybed, tells him he’s been dead since yesterday. Someone holds his face and says he’s the most gutless person they’ve ever met. He’s going to die here. He’s already dead. He’d like to die in the starlight. He’d like to take his last breath to the pulse of Take On Me. He’s laughing. He’s crying. When he splits a joint with someone on the roof, he’s naked but so clothed he could suffocate. He’s under the earth. He’s hovering above it. He’s lost in a glut of bodies. No one is here. Someone could be. He screams for a mother. Mourns a father. Chews his nails on the landing. Begs for forgiveness with his eyes spread open.

Harrison breaking point fr:

He runs into a man. The stranger’s eyes are wide and peeled back like a sardine can, his hair so mussed it looks less like a style and more like electrocuted sunrays. He can’t be any older than him—the look in his eye is searing, mildly reckless. Perhaps he’s got a mother at home waiting on him like Harrison does. Perhaps his memories of his own father are buried within the scars that loop his hairline, easy to write off as accidents. His upper lip is shiny, the barest fuzz of a mustache growing. He looks like he’s fated to die too, something sad in his face when he blinks. Harrison reaches, and the man does too. When his fingers knock into a cold surface, it takes him a minute longer to realize he’s not staring at another man, but himself. He stumbles backward and narrowly steadies himself on the bathroom’s locked door. He squints at his reflection again, deluged in déjà vu. Bloodshot eyes, purple throat, split lip. He takes a careful step forward and then another and then another until he’s bolting right back to his face, pressing his palm to his cheek. What had Jeremiah asked him when he’d arrived at his apartment yesterday? What happened to you? And what did happen? He’s a man mid-bruise, a man mid-death, a man mid-funeral, a man mid-afterlife. Something’s fallen out of his face. His fingers tighten against the mirror. Will he claw it out of his eyeballs? He tries. He’s desperate to, in need of unravelling something. But no matter how insistently his fingernails scrape, nothing changes—he looks the same. Bloodshot eyes, purple throat, split lip. He doesn’t recognize himself. It feels like he won’t again. And why would he? In August, he abandoned a part of himself thinking he could find it again on his own, and how wrong was he? He’s not brave. How foolish to think he could be.

Saddest part of the book probably (resurrecting badly is one of my favourite phrases EVERRR):

His eyes swerve like Halley’s comet. He’s not the man he once was. No Christ, no Jacob, no Jeremiah, but something much worse. He’s sprouting something evil, his face glitching right ahead of him. Panic lurches up his throat and he reaches for himself to say he’s fine, someone’s here for him, someone loves him, nothing’s going to make him vanish here, he’s here, he’s happy, he’s going to be, he’s worthy of gentleness, he’s really not, he’s got an ugly smile, he’s nobody here, he’s losing himself, he’s better than ever, he’s dismantling no matter how hard he tries to keep himself together, he’s wearing another man’s earring because he’s over him, he’s not, he’s never going to love someone else again, he’s in chrysalis, he’s in autopsy, he’s got someone else’s nose, eyes, hair, he’s resurrecting badly, he’s turning blue and nothing can stop him, he’s Jesus when he wants to be and Lonan right now. The mirror shatters before he realizes he’s punched it. Fractals of glass starburst off his fist, splay across the counter. He’s not Lonan. He’s kinder than that. He doesn’t lift people by the chin and then twist off their heads. He drives a man across the country out of his own volition. When his mother calls him generous he understands why. He does not leave the man who sees something soft in him. He’s a good person. He’s a good person. He’s crying as his own face splits into a million pieces.

Haremiah breakup starts now...... !!!

He wakes dazed under starlight. What he knows for certain: a honeysuckle flutes behind his ear and man hovers over him. If these two things are related, he doesn’t know why—if the flower’s a gift from the man, if the man is a gift from the flower. How beautiful is that idea? Man not a duplicate of himself but birthed from a petal like a pearl from a clam. He could be a glorious by-product, couldn’t he? This question matters less than the throbbing light ahead of him. He squints at its blurred edges. Gabriel coming for him? The headlights of Suz’s car? Perhaps just a streetlamp. Or, God doesn’t have a face—this could be his arrival.

This is a direct continuation of that (JEREMIAH IS NOT HAPPY)!!! ft. the iconic drawing:

“Harrison?” He blinks. Someone’s shaking his shoulder. He’d like for them to stop—each movement is like being hulled out of his skin. “Harrison?” the voice repeats. Harrison. who is that? Harrison. He should know. Harrison. He’s heard that name called on velvet midnights. He’s heard that name aimed like a gunshot. Uttered like a prayer. Harrison. “Can you hear me? You stole my shit.”

You ever wake up high in the grass and then call your current bf who's a hair away from breaking up with u the name of ur ex bf bc you actually for a second see your ex who is literally not there:

He’s in the grass. Staring at a face now that’s getting closer, closer, attached to a neck that’s attached to a shoulder that’s attached to an arm that’s attached to a hand that’s nudging him. He could stay here forever. That face is pretty as the silverbells he and Suz used to hang on their Christmas tree. Prussian blue eyes. Oil spill hair. The last time he’d seen this face, he was amazed at how delicate it could look in dappled light. Features sculpted precariously like a China doll. Harrison used to imagine a future with that face. Harrison used to see himself reflected back in his pupils. “Lonan?” he asks, eyes lolling. His heart’s racing. He needs to tell the truth. He wants to hold him but his hands aren’t moving on command. What if he misses this shot? What if he’s a set of full fingers and this man is sand sifting right through them? Please don’t leave, he wants to say. Please don’t let me go.

(^^^ I'M HURTTTTTTTTT)

Harrison thinks about Jeremiah fondly AND THE ILY DROP (also biyu in the bg like HOLD MY POPCORN):

Harrison’s gotten used to him—how he hums Lionel Richie hits in the shower, how he softens his vowels when talking to his seven-year-old cousin on the phone, how he’s wise but still young—how he’s lost nothing from knowledge. And maybe that’s the problem. It’s impossible to keep a good thing that’s been around for too long. Harrison finds a face, his fingers clammy, clumsy. The moment he contacts skin, Jeremiah’s face clarifies as if emerging from a cloud. Soft skin, his brows waved in worry, mouth taut with what might be anger, or what might be devastation. He should be angry. He should be devastated. Harrison would be angry. Harrison is angry. Devastated too. He’s a good person. He keeps being dealt bad cards, keeps getting paper cuts on the way. It’s not fair. None of this has ever been fair. “Listen to me,” Harrison says, gripping Jeremiah’s cheek harder. His eyes flare at the blood dripping down his knuckles and the specks of glass that glitter off them like rhinestones. “Are you listening?” “JJ,” comes the voice as a car door slams. “He’s not worth it.” Jeremiah’s jaw trembles. He shouldn’t be here. He shouldn’t suffer. “I’m here.” “You’re a good person,” Harrison says. He drags his fingers down to Jeremiah’s mouth, digs miniature ships into his bottom lip. In another life, he could’ve gone anywhere with this man. A private tour of a glass museum. Griffith Park. A supermarket cereal aisle. Bora Bora. The fabric-softened sheets of his double bed. “I love you,” he says, ignoring the second voice that again suggests they leave. He tries to get onto his elbow to get closer to him, to kiss him, to stare till his eyes tumble out like marbles, to take his chin and say I find the best parts of me in you, but the farthest he gets is a weak buck of his chin. “I love you, I love you.” “JJ. We need to go.” Jeremiah’s staring right at him. He’s never seen his eyes like this before—so focused it’s like they’ve pressurized and could crack like amber at any moment. He looks like he wants to say something. Harrison, stay with me. Harrison, you’re not your past. Harrison, you’re surviving. Instead, he shakes his head, then starts to rise.

(^^ I FIND THE BEST PARTS OF ME IN YOUUUUU STOPP)

WHAT NOT TO SAY WHEN YOU COULD'VE SALVAGED THIS YOU FOOL:

Harrison snatches his wrist so tight his hands shake. “Believe me,” he says. His chest is airy. He’s dying. He’s dead. Falling from a great height. He smooths a hand up Jeremiah’s eyebrows. Beautiful man. A living picture in his own right. Jeremiah glances at his arm wound by Harrison’s fingers, and when he looks back up, his eyes are shimmering. “Why did you go?” he asks. And why had he? He could’ve spent forever against Jeremiah’s ribs. Built a future with him over spiked lemonade and foolish nights at karaoke bars. Jeremiah’s built for movement, late nights, orange sorbet mornings, moonlit swan paddle boats, a thrilling midlife career change, dinner parties with near strangers, weekend hikes of Yosemite, bustling hostels in Amsterdam, desserts with almond liqueur and crème fraîche, sunsets in Montego Bay. “You’re bad for me,” Harrison slurs. Jeremiah’s face slackens.

last image of Jeremiah:

So he doesn’t try when Biyu stands and helps her friend do the same. He doesn’t try as he watches Jeremiah paw off his eyes, as he watches Jeremiah look at him a last time before turning away. He doesn’t try as together, they walk toward the car, mumbling things Harrison can’t hear—that he’ll never find out. He doesn’t try as Jeremiah opens the passenger side door, and before he gets in, takes one glance back at him on the grass. He doesn’t try as Jeremiah’s lip trembles, doesn’t try when he ducks into the car and slams the door shut. After all this time, it feels like the least he can do.

Harrison-Jesus parallels:

The crowd goes mild, focused forward as the processional begins. Harrison looks to Jesus crucified behind the altar. In his last moment, he gave himself to his father. Harrison will never see his father again, unlike Jesus, but both their mothers have been left to weep. And yet they’re both sons. No matter what they’ve done.

AND THE ENDING (the choir's singing Here I am Lord) ft. chapter 1 & 2 parallels (& credit also to @dallonwrites who gave me the idea for this ending months ago literallyyyyy worked out so perfectly):

This morning, he woke on the same grass he’d last seen Jeremiah on. He didn’t need anyone to tell him not to go back. The difference between him yesterday and him today is he’s a man without a place to go. No shepherd to follow. No man to hold. He understands what he is. A failure. A disaster. A sad, bitter person. He doesn’t need anyone to tell him any of this. Not Jeremiah. Not Biyu. Not Suzanna. Not Lonan. The music swells. Harrison’s eyes burn. In August, leaving Lonan was an inevitability as much as it was a new beginning. Now, he knows he’s not going anywhere. After this, he’ll go back to Suzanna who’ll greet him with a plate of papas, twirl his hair while he cries in her lap on the couch. They’ll buy tilapia on sale at the grocery store tomorrow. Adopt a betta fish, wince at the normalized hypocrisy. He won’t think about Lonan. What he’s doing in that apartment. If he remembers what it’s like to hold someone’s hands like they’re your own, what it’s like to mistake someone else’s reflection as yours. He’ll never speak to Jeremiah again out of courtesy, write him a postcard from a Grand Canyon gift shop when he and Suzanna visit like typical mothers and sons, but never send it. He can manage in his forever and ever and ever and ever amen because he’s okay. This horribly pleasant, horribly easy life will be okay. The choir asks who will bear their light. Offers themselves to God just as Jesus did. Harrison gasps. Once, he might’ve convinced himself he could be like them. Someone so committed they’d do anything for the person they love. He’d done that before—given everything in him to a man even if it almost killed him. Now he doesn’t know. Who he is. Where he went. Jesus in the tomb. Body gone. Body gone. He’s missed his chance at glory. When the choir swells, their voices clattering off the domed ceiling, he laughs. He doesn’t mean to. But there he is, virtually alone despite the passionate churchgoers around him. He’s no Christ, no Jacob, no Jeremiah. No Lonan. He’ll never be even if he wanted to. Tears flail down his face. He laughs again, though halfway, it becomes a sob. The woman from earlier glances at him funnily, but it doesn’t matter. He’s not going to heaven. He’s never going to see Jeremiah again. The choir’s heard their calling, but Harrison won’t ever have one. He laughs with his eyes straight on the crucifix. People from other pews begin to turn around, puzzled, even the priest looking up from the altar. The church silences eventually. No one claps. All eyes turn to him. He weeps with his mouth wide open.

AAAAND that's it!!! Thank you SO much if you've been following this project & AN EXTRA THANKS to everybody who sent so much love and support my way. Like no drama, I wouldn't be here if I didn't have all that support earlier this year, so if you've ever said ANYTHING NICE about BODY BACK, please know you literally saved me this year! Thank you!!!! It's really a spectacular feeling to know you have a little village behind a project, and I feel so honoured and grateful that this project resonated with so many people. <3

NOW GO FORTH 24K HARRISON LIVES ON IN OUR MEMORIES <3 (where he should remain forever <3 lol).

#writeblr #amwriting #writerblr #writing #writing updates #writingupdates #bodyback #fostered #mothwork #AYYYYYYY WE DID IT!!!!! #this chapter is actually really hard to read for me IT'S SOOO SADDDD but I hope you enjoyed! #AND THANKS FOR BEING ON THIS RIDE WHILE I WROTE THIS SILLY LITTLE BOOK HEHEHE #LOVE AND LIGHT <3 <3 <3

[whattraintracks]

13. Worthless - TMNT 1987

Some thoughts on Raphael, master of disguise.

There's this scene in "Raphael, Turtle of a Thousand Faces" (s05e16) that I think about a lot.

So Raphael is taking a remote class on undercover detective work, and the other turtles make fun of him practicing disguises for an assignment. Splinter checks on him after he storms off, and it's such a short conversation, but I think there's more going on under the surface.

First of all, Splinter's reaction to learning about the class is hilarious. His face is fun to watch and he's so baffled he literally gasps. But then you can tell he tries to be patient and understanding. I wish I knew what he was thinking. Is it, why would you want to be anything other than a ninja? Or maybe, you've never expressed interest in this before, where is this coming from?? If you've ever worked for a while with the same group of kids or adolescents, you may be familiar with this thought.

At first glance, Raphael's response breaks my heart. He tells Splinter he's taking this class to make "more of a contribution to the mean green team! You know, something special." My immediate thought is that he's feeling a little worthless. But then I step back and wonder if I'm reading too far into it. Taking the time to learn a new skill to better support your teammates is a worthwhile endeavor. This is not, on its own, necessarily an indicator of low self-esteem. But what bothers me is that nobody knew he was doing this. Again, not explicitly a bad thing, but it seems weird to me that he wouldn't involve the other turtles or at least let them know about it so they can support him.

So Splinter, of course, immediately reassures him they're all special. Also not sure what to make of how he says this because it sounds some combination of fond and amused but also just conciliatory. What's interesting is what Raphael says next, and how he says it causes me to question that initial assumption again. He agrees, almost genuinely? Like he says "maybe" but not in a "yeah, I guess" choosing-not-to-argue-but-feeling-otherwise kind of way, he sounds sincere. Now, this could be him saying, well, duh, we're special, how many other crime-fighting turtle men do you know? This would line up with stuff he's expressed throughout the series. But he finishes very showy and cheerfully with, "But I'll be the only master of disguise!" So maybe that first impression was wrong. Maybe this is just a teenager branching out and discovering other interests. Maybe the secrecy was because he was worried the guys would make fun of him—which they did. Or maybe, he wants to distinguish himself from the other turtles, wants his own thing. 

And I wonder why he might feel like he needs his own thing or specialty. One of my favorite parts about the team dynamic in this series is that they don't really have designated roles. Leonardo is the leader in that he keeps them rallied and on task, but they all take turns offering plans and solutions, serving as the distraction, playing bait, or, more practically, just driving or flying. But since Leonardo has a defined role as the leader/master ninja, Donatello as the inventor/the one who gets them out of trouble (see one of my favorite Raphael lines at the end of "My Brother, the Bad Guy"), and even Michelangelo as the chef/pizza guy, maybe he's feeling some anxiety over his own ambiguous role.

But I can't get rid of the feeling that he thinks he's not enough and the others are brushing it off. Especially after their weak apologies—"We didn't know you were actually serious about this disguise thing." Especially as he tries so hard to prove his dedication and skill and ends up in a lot of trouble in the rest of this episode. Especially when he gives up private investigation but immediately throws himself into chemistry at the end of the episode, once again on his own and without help.

This happens in one episode, and as far as I remember, they never talk about it again, but he's my little guy, and I worry, okay! I just want him to be happy and know he's loved and valued.

#march for raph #he is my little guy #and sometimes he makes me sad #because i love him so much #raphael turtle of a thousand faces #tmnt 1987 #tmnt #whattrainofthought

[prettyboysdontlookatexplosions]

the specific scene from the Concept eating my brain that i 100% had to exorcise tonight was: Quentin Coldwater At A Singles Mixer, ft me finally finding an excuse to work in my very passionate belief about teen quentin’s love of donnie darko:

“Nice shirt.”

Quentin says “What?” because he’s wearing a completely normal and boring flannel over a white T-shirt, and then “Thank you,” because that’s what normal people say when someone pays them a compliment, and then “Oh — because — I get it,” because he finally clocks that the girl who said it is wearing what looks to be the exact same one, and finally “Yours, too,” because now that he sees it he can’t just not complete the joke even if it makes him look even less capable of human interaction than he already does.

Miraculously, the girl in the flannel does not start backing slowly away. Instead she says, “My friend dragged me here. And you look like you’re having about as much fun as I am, so I’m guessing — you too?”

Quentin blinks, surprised. “Uh — yeah, kind of.” Close enough, anyway.

Flannel girl rolls her eyes. “These things are so fucking stupid, right?”

He snorts, relieved at least one person in this room shares his feelings. “Yeah, I could think of about five or ten… thousand things I’d rather be doing.”

“Same. Starting with a fucking root canal.”

“Sure,” he agrees. “I was thinking, uh, DMV on a slow day.”

“Calc final.”

“Meta-trig practicum on the full moon.”

“Dragged by wild horses.”

“Burned at the stake.”

“Family reunion with the Florida half.”

“Oof,” Quentin says sympathetically. “I was going to say death by leeches, but I think your thing sounds worse.”

Flannel girl smiles. “So what would you really be doing tonight, if you weren’t here?”

“Honestly?” He rolls his eyes at himself. “Probably something like watching Donnie Darko for the nine hundredth time in bed.”

She strikes a pose. “Never doubt my commitment to sparkle motion!”

Quentin feels himself smile automatically at the phrase. “You a fan?”

“I was like, obsessed with that movie in high school,” she says. “Jena Malone was so formative for me.”

“Theatrical release or director’s cut?”

“Oh, definitely original. The director’s cut is like, let’s take this movie that’s dense and weird and compelling, and just make it some masturbatory sci-fi bullshit. Like, if I wanted to be lectured to about the ins and outs of time travel, I’d just watch Primer, you know?”

“Okay, agreed, but — I do love Primer.”

“Primer’s great. But I find it hard to believe any of the depressed fifteen-year-olds of America are watching Primer every Friday night to feel a little less alone for two hours.”

“No, yeah, it’s a different thing. It’s an intellectual exercise more than anything else, whereas Donnie Darko — theatrical release — the thing that makes it great is it really gets at what it’s like to — feel something. A — a weird, dark, fucked up, adolescent something. But it feels fucking real.”

“It’s a movie for kids who think their problem is their brain, but really it’s that their heart is too big for their body and they’re about ten years from figuring that out.”

“Totally. That’s actually, like, kind of a beautiful way of putting it.”

“I told you. I’ve thought about this movie a lot.” She sticks out a hand. “I’m Maya, by the way.”

“Quentin.” He shakes the offered hand. It occurs to him that he’s actually, like — doing this, maybe? Like he’s — he’s at this fucking singles thing, as a person to meet people to date, and he’s actually kind of — hit it off, with this girl. He’s — not the greatest at picking up social cues, but he’s pretty sure that’s what’s happening. Not like she’s flirting with him, or whatever, because, like, she’s not, but — they’re having a conversation, and it’s not the worst. He’s sort of hoping it keeps going, rather than praying it will end. That’s — not nothing, for him. And she — just introduced herself, so, she probably wouldn’t — mind? And — god, he really doesn’t want to go through this whole ordeal, but he told Eliot he’d give it his best, so, he basically has to at least shoot his shot here, right? He rakes a hand through his hair, trying not to sound nervous. “Hey, um — okay, so I know we were just talking about how stupid this whole thing is, and how we hate it, and like, no pressure, or hard feelings, or anything like that, but — I mean, I don’t hate talking to you, and we — we maybe have some stuff in common, so — did you want to, I don’t know, maybe trade numbers? Or something?”

Her face sags into a pitying look that lets him know immediately he’s made a grave error. “Oh, that’s sweet, but —”

“Sorry,” he rushes to get out, “I’m sorry, forget it, I shouldn’t have —”

“No, it’s fine, it’s just — I’m like, super gay, dude.”

“Oh.” That’s — not the kind of humiliation he was expecting. “Well that’s — cool. I mean, not — I’m not trying to say it is or isn’t any, uh, any thing, like I’m not trying to like, congratulate you, because why would you need my, my approval, or — you don’t —” Stop talking, he pleads with himself. Just stop talking. “Just. You know. Yeah.”

Maya peers at him. “The Jena Malone thing didn’t tip you off?”

Quentin shrugs. “I guess I’m not really thinking about that kind of thing when I talk to people, usually.”

“Ah. Well, if it makes you feel any better —” She smiles. “That’s definitely the least repulsively I’ve ever been hit on by a straight guy.”

He snorts. “I think we both know that’s a pretty low bar to clear.” That gets a laugh out of her, at least. “And I’m actually — not. Straight, I mean.”

“Oh.” She wrinkles her nose in apology or embarrassment. “Sorry. My bad.”

“It’s not like it matters, it’s just — you know. For the sake of accuracy, or whatever.”

She tilts her head. “I mean it… kind of matters.”

“Okay, obviously in like a kind of macro societal sense, yes, this is a facet of human existence that matters in all kinds of, uh, legal and historical and cultural ways,” Quentin says, residual exasperation bubbling to the surface, “but on, like, an individual level, person to person, I feel like it’s one of those things where reasonable people can maybe learn to agree to disagree.”

“Uh huh,” she says, skeptical and amused. “I feel like maybe this is a conversation you’re having with someone who is… not me.”

He sighs. “Sorry. Yeah. It’s a bit of a sore spot right now, maybe.”

“An ex?”

“You… could say that. I guess. Or — kind of. Maybe? I don’t know. It’s complicated. Like, we’re not together, but it’s not necessarily over over, and also he’s one of my best friends and we sort of live together, at least when he’s — in town, so — complicated.”

“It’s too bad this isn’t going to work out, because you would make a great lesbian.”

Quentin laughs. “Thanks.”

“Anytime.” She bites her lip. “Actually — if you like movies… there’s this really cool Korean horror movie showing at Metrograph on Sunday that I couldn’t talk anyone into going with me, because somehow I’m friends with people who do this sort of shit” — she gestures ambiently — “for fun. God knows I’m not above going to a movie by myself, but if you wanted to join me, as friends…”

“Oh.” This is about as unexpected as walking away from this with an actual date would be. And — maybe weirdly almost as nice? Maybe even nicer, given that he doesn’t actually want to date anyone not named Eliot Waugh, but he, like, could probably stand to be friends with one person he’s not basically trauma-bonded with at this point. Some might even argue that could be healthy. “Yeah. That sounds kind of great, actually.”

“Awesome.” Maya flashes him a smile. “In the meantime, I think I’m supposed to go mingle, but I think if I stay here another five minutes, I’m going to hurl.”

“I know a hedge bar like three blocks south of here,” he says. “If we leave now I think we can still catch their happy hour.”

“Lead the way,” she says, and gratefully Quentin starts walking towards the exit.

#i cheated on my WIP for this but i think that now that i have this down i can like #put a pin in it and let the rest percolate for some time while i do other stuff #writing tag #the magicians

[lukosha]

Redesign of Lock Shock and Barrel for post canon fanfiction

Okay, it's kind of weird to post redesigns before the fanfic itself comes out, but if I do it only after writing the first chapter, a lot of time will pass, and I need to post something. In fact, this is a rather large-scale “project” and the actual redesign of the main characters took a lot of time. I hope you like it. Moreover, let it be a short excursion and introduction to the situation before the start of the main story. First I'll start with Lock Shock and Barrel

Below is a brief description of each of the trio.

Shock

After the failed Christmas, when the trio returned to the treehouse (the incident between Jack and Oogie was still unknown for them at that time), Shock was the first to feel that something was wrong, discovered that the Boogie was in critical condition, and led the group. "operation" to save their boss by stuffing his "skin" with anything (cotton wool, leaves, insects, sawdust, etc.). After which her attitude towards Jack and Sally (and towards all residents of the city) becomes more hostile than before. She also tries to turn Lock and Barrel against the people of Halloween town, trying to isolate them in the house, fearing attacks from the townspeople after the incident.Аt the same time, she begins to take an interest in people's lives, carefully hiding it from everyone else and feels all the delights of the beginning of adolescence.

Lock

Lock hasn’t changed much since the end of the canonical events, but he has a strong desire to seem like the main one in the trio and, more importantly, truly grown-up and independent (he wanted this before, but now it has taken a not very healthy turn). This happened after Oogie was injured and Shock had to take full responsibility for their lives while Boogie man was in a sorry state. So throughout the story, he will make many mistakes and stupid things, from which (we hope) he will learn his lesson.Lock's attitude towards the townsfolk and towards Jack and Sally is almost the same as Shock's, but his constant hyperactivity does not allow him to sit still in the house, so he does not agree with the idea of ​​​​isolation from his world.

Barrel

Barrel... it's just Barrel. For him, little has changed since the main events. He is not burdened with the same burden of responsibility as his older siblings, but has an important task. Due to his age, Barrell does not fully understand the whole situation, but he senses that something is wrong. Despite his clumsiness and slow-wittedness (and whining about and without reason), he is a very empathic person and is an emotional ballast for all members of his “family”. Despite all his attempts to provide support, he himself begins to move away from his family and withdraw into himself.

Unlike the older siblings, he does not have negative feelings towards Jack, Sally and the townspeople in general, but is not against self-isolation.

Аdditional facts: 1.Shock wears a bag to collect suitable “stuff” for Boogie man, as well as to hide various human things there. 2.Lock has his own butterfly knife for "self-defense", but mostly just shows off with various tricks (and earns himself cuts). 3.Barrell decided to sew extra pockets onto Shock's costume to store lollipops and candies in.

Thank you very much for reading, new announcements and the first chapter of fanfiction will follow soon! The link will appear in a separate post and will be added to previous posts!

#the nightmare before christmas #lock shock and barrel #art #tim burton #tnbc #fanfic

[spicybylerpolls]

Quoting an anon ask on the bylerconfessions antisex discourse blog:

"Ok, so I decided to bring a point of view that from what I've seen hasn't been brought up yet. The fandom has a lot of adults and we already know that. Some of these adults experienced adolescence in very complicated times, similar to the 80s. Let's not forget that even today in 2024 we have cities where being LGBT is still a huge problem. It wasn't easy for us to live our adolescence in such an environment and I'm sure many of us didn't have a good experience. So, some look for NSFW content related to Byler and not because they are fantasizing about them, but rather to see a better experience than the one they had or even in a more positive way with a ship that they really like and support. I believe there is no problem with this and it does not mean that the person has sexual desires for teenagers, as some people on the tag have said. I myself was the same age as them when I lost my virginity."

Yes!! But, this anon went on to say this:

"However, and here comes my other point, this doesn't mean there isn't a limit to it. Discussing fetishes openly, who has the bigger member between the two or other worse things that I've seen lately is really unnecessary. I've seen people saying that it's normal to talk about sex and I agree, but it's not like the topic is about problematizing sexual relationships between gays or something like that, or representation in the media, but really unnecessary things like "who gives the better handjob?" there is a limit and people are crossing it and using a shitty excuse."

and i couldn't help but agree.

'it's fine to project through fiction, but please don't use that as an excuse to make polls on "who's toes curl more" '

i love the freedom of this blog, but some stuff sadly slides into weirdness. someone should make a freakybylerpolls blog for the gratuitous stuff, and leave the pondering about actual possible healthy sex for byler in s5 to this one.

I understand this as a concept, but I think it would be strange for the fandom safe space for "spicy/problematic" questions to also become filtered and policed. I think it's a slippery slope and a very thin line when it comes to determining what falls into the category of okay and reasonable and what falls into the category of "too far." Especially if one blog is serving as the border control. Everyone has different tastes, everyone has different standards, everyone has different lines, and everyone has different comfort levels. And that's all okay!

I've received asks that are all over the spectrum. Some, like the "Who has more internalized homophobia?" question, aren't even spicy, and some are... um... very far on the other end of the spectrum. On my pinned post I do ask people to use discretion when submitting polls, but as a poll blog, I stay completely neutral. I'm not a preacher, I'm a messenger. I don't endorse or unendorse any specific question.

This blog is for fun! The purpose is for our fandom to explore the potentially taboo without shame. I get that not everyone may be comfortable with every poll even if they support the blog overall, but that's honestly what the "see results" button is for. If someone doesn't want to engage with a specific question, they can scroll past it or press that button to opt-out. Or if they're not feeling the blog as a whole, they can block the tag or block the account. No hard feelings!

Anti-censorship and freedom for all!

#byler #spicy byler #no poll

[rose-reads-visualnovels]

the other day I finished RGU for the first time, and there's definitely a lot to spin around in my head. I kind of wish I watched it five or ten years ago, mainly because I think it would have been interesting to return to as an adult. also it probably would have helped back then. but then, I feel like I'm not really "out of my coffin" if I understand what that's about, so maybe it's not as far from then as I feel like.

it was weird feeling the shift from relating to utena more at the beginning to relating to anthy more as it went on. I've also been watching it with a friend at a slower pace(we're in the black rose arc currently) so it's just like... it's different the second time around. when you know what's going on and what's coming and more of what this means and when you have time to understand what it means to whoever is involved.

I wanted to watch the show before seeing your recommendations, but I'm grateful for you pushing people to see it.

Anon, I’m so happy you shared this moment with me. The first rewatch of Utena is always something special and you’re right that having your first exposure to the show during your - well - adolescence helps you see yourself and the world in a different light. I’m not joking when I say it changed my life.

But I agree that, in cases where you’re still stuck in a vicious cycle starting who knows when, RGU can still help shine a light. It’s challenging and soothing at the same time.

Now, I can’t speak for anyone else, but I think relating to Anthy on rewatch is very common. After all, in the end, all girls are like the Rose Bride.

(Also, thank you for infecting your friend with the RGU virus! One day we shall revolutionize the world!)

- Rose, the Revolutionary Witch

#anon ask #askbox #rgu #revolutionary girl utena #anthy himemiya #testimony

[the-badger-mole]

I'm sick of people saying Aang showed Katara how to be a kid again for 2 reasons: 1) No he fucking didn't. He took her penguin sledding once and then immediately became her responsibility. 2) While I think it would've been nice for Katara to get a break from being a caretaker, I don't think she needed to be shown how to be a kid again. I think she needed space to define herself as more than "the responsible one" or "the mom friend". I don't think she'd want to go back to being/acting like a kid.

I agree. The argument that Aang helped Katara be a kid again ignores, first of all, that Katara is an adolescent girl. Even if she hadn't had the experiences she'd had, she wouldn't be a "kid" the same way Aang was a kid. Second that argument ignores the fact that even though it is important for Katara to enjoy moments of carefreeness, after everything she's been through, she is never going to "be a kid" again, and that is okay. It would have been better if Aang through his friendship with Katara learned to be a bit more serious- at least serious enough to have thought through what he was being asked to do before the last minute.

Aang's lack of maturity was a liability in the end, not an asset, and to argue that Katara needed to be more like him is a weird take considering the whole show was about ending a war. Everyone would be super dead without Katara, and it I wish more people would appreciate her for how amazing she was and not just treat her like an extension of Aang.

#atla #anti kataang #anti aang

[eldragon-x]

Ever since I first watched Cowbell of Happiness, the idea of Nanami being a therian has been on my mind and I wanted to dig a little more into an alterhuman reading of her character.

Something I want to note first: I'm aware that Nanami being associated with animals has other symbolic meanings, especially within Nanami's Egg which is a rather blatant metaphor for puberty and sexuality. This interpretation is simply assigning an additional meaning to these elements. Also while I'm mainly tackling this from the angle of Nanami being a cow therian, this is really about her identifying as some flavour of non-human in general.

Now, I've suspected that Nanami is kinda weird and that part of the reason she antagonizes Anthy - besides her whole deal with Touga - is because in an attempt to uplift herself, she puts others down, since I saw the scene where she attempts to frame Anthy as a weirdo for keeping unusual animals.

And the cowbell episode did drive that impression home for me because. Yeah, Nanami is weird. It's said repeatedly in this episode.

And even when it isn't outright stated, it's pretty clear what impression the bell has on the people around Nanami.

There's also something to be said about the comparison between Utena's masculine representation and Nanami proudly wearing the bell. Something about non-conformity and existing in a way that is weird or generally percieved as such.

(Then again, Nanami is disillusioned with the bell as a status symbol, but that can also loop back to her putting those around her down to uplift herself.)

Another thing in the cowbell episode that stands out to me is this bit:

Like, Nanami, who's usually so on edge and concerned about everything around her, becomes calm and content after a while of wearing the cow bell? Wow that's interesting almost as if she allowed herself to be more true to herself instead of being uptight all the time huh.

Onto Nanami's Egg, while most of the episode serves as a metaphor for various adolescence experiences, I'm intruiged by this line:

implying that there's yet another element to it that still alienates her from everyone else. On top of that, for a portion of the episode, Nanami is afraid of being seen as an alien

which also serves as a metaphor for experiences Nanami thinks are abnormal due to an apparent lack of understanding how puberty works, but the fact that it's implied the egg thing is actually unique to her and by the end of the episode she embraces the egg which then hatches an actual alien feels almost like... accepting that there is something strange (and non-human) about her.

(And of course, how frequently Nanami is compared to animals in this episode once again. Mostly after she's played out a nightmare scenario due to a fear of judgement.)

Lastly, a common interpretation I've seen of Nanami's singular appearance in the movie is that she escaped Ohtori and I agree with that. She only makes an indirect appearance as a cow in an "scandalicious" tape (because of course identifying with an animal, one as ungraceful as a cow no less, would be a scandal in the world of Ohtori Academy) and assuming she made it out and no longer feels the pressure to abide to social expectations, she can allow herself to be true to herself.

Also I know I'm cooking even more with water with this point than I already have with this entire post, especially considering silhouettes in RGU generally don't have mouth animations, but there's something about how Nanami doesn't have a mouth animation in her nightmare while her cow shadow does.

Thank you for reading my self-indulgent Nanami alterhuman analysis(??) that came out of a mixture of me recently coming to terms with being alterhuman and being a sucker for characters who have been dehumanized coming to terms with identifying as non-human (because I do think the animal/alien comparisons come from a place of fear of being dehumanized too).

#sorry for dissappearing for two days only to come back with fucking. nanami therian essay. #i got sick and had a terrible headache yesterday lol #utn #nanami tag #rgu meta #rgu #revolutionary girl utena #nanami kiryuu

[findafight]

I love your opinions on r0nance so much. If you ever bring Steve up to the shippers they always start talking about how you can't insert a man into a wlw ship/relationship. As if he isn't integral to both their stories in the show. He's Nancy's ex and they dated for a year and he's Robin's best friend. If he was only one of those things it wouldn't matter, but he is both. And you can't separate them. If it wasn't for Steve, Nancy would have never acknowledged Robin. She didn't know who Robin was in S3 and it's heavily implied that she didn't care and wasn't interested in anything about Robin until she was useful. If Robin wasn't friends with Steve she wouldn't have become involved with the Upside Down, and Nancy never would have noticed her.

thank you! yeah I was writing that answer and thinking "literally so many of my issues with this ship and how it's approached have nothing to do with Steve. woah" though obviously i really hate how poorly robin and her relationship with steve is treated/written within the ship. why make her mean, or purposefully deceitful in a way she knows will be hurtful to her best friend? :( if you have to butcher a character/their relationship with another character for a ship...is that worth it? seems kinda vindictive too like what did power QPR duo stobin do to make ppl want to break them up? they hate to see bad bitches winning XD

I think taking criticism of how the robin and steve dynamic is treated in r0nance fic and saying that people saying those things are just making a wlw relationship about a man is sort of...idk. not insulting but. insincere? about how they care about characters, because like. this is a man whose relationships with these women is deeply influential to who they are and how they met. Robin is Steve's best friend. She wants to combine into an ultimate being with him. She made a crush she had about Steve, she's just going to insert him into her romo relationships and her partners are gonna have to deal with her weird obsession with her bestie! Nancy is his ex! Who cheated on him!! Both of them have history with steve, and that history influences dynamics! If we use rebel robin, she longs to find her people, real friends she can trust and talk to and click with without worrying about being too much. Steve is Robin's person. She puts a great deal of weight on her platonic relationships, and we see that with steve! Her thinking about how her actions would affect him is not centring a wlw relationship on a man it's being a good and loving friend!!

totally agree, Robin and Nancy's relationship with each other is pivoted on steve, because he's their point of commonality! He's the reason they know each other, (and also are alive), and has/had intense and deeply meaningful relationships with both of them, that have helped to informed who all three of them are!

Nancy's relationship with steve is tied to her grief and guilt surrounding Barb, and their involvement with the upside down. Treating it like it didn't mean anything to either of them is a disservice to that year they spent dating. yeah, maybe it wasn't a relationship meant to last, maybe it wasn't good for them or was cliche adolescent first love but it was important to steve, and important enough to Nancy that she stayed in it. tbh disregarding the s4ncy history and how steve loved her happens in a lot of fics, so it's not only a rnce problem, but it's a particularly annoying thorn when combined with steve's bff not caring about it or how he feels about it? doesn't feel like robin to me.

#anti ronance #robin buckley #nancy wheeler #steve harrington #stranger things #stranger things meta #findaanswers #anonasaurus #finda's rambles #i answered that ask purposefully leaving steve out of most of it just to show that while I don't like it because of how weird it is with #steve's relationships with both of them there are also many other reasons i don't like it #i guess?