#once the gay lens is on it can’t be removed

[eemoo1o]

“I’ll take sonic outside” okay Shadow you do that

#too keep him from screwing up the Crystal PLEASE #once the gay lens is on it can’t be removed #sonic prime #sonic prime season 2 #cracking down #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog

[sodomitecastiel]

Do you have any recommended spn fics? To be restored is consuming all of my non fenario brainspace

This is in no way an exhaustive list - @jewishcharliebradbury is the one to go for that - but these are some favorites of mine, please always heed their tags just in case!

Putting it under a readmore because I'm a wordy bastard:

Sky Verse by starandrea: Angelic civil war! The crispest, most in-character dialogue! Vast, sprawling worldbuilding! Dean and Cas get together and are very bad at it for a long time! This series obsesses me the way other people are obsessed with dta (which I have not read for fear of commitment but fully intend to eventually).

To Be Restored by serenetyfails: You mentioned this one already but it's worth repeating - it's my favorite trans spn fic that I didn't write myself. Cas's transmasc identity is handled so carefully and so competently, Dean flips out in a way that's both in character and still kind to him, and Sam and Rowena are wonderfully fleshed out. I think many people would look at the premise and worry it's either misogynistic or fetishy, but it's neither, it's such a love letter to Cas's well-earned masculinity. Also, I'm obsessed with Rowena knowing and being buddies with a lot of trans women witches :)

Talk Therapy by shara: This is one of my favorite 'Dean is bad at asking for things' fics, it deals with his inability to want things past what he can give to others really well. I also appreciate that not everything in their relationship is fixed just because they're together, although the amount they love each other is always obvious.

Epilogue by JayneL: A weird little time travel story that is NOT a fixit for endverse, but is exceptionally kind to endverse Cas anyway. It aches very badly. I remember it being pretty trippy but also having to sit and look at the ceiling a while after reading it.

The Love Story of the Runner Up by Margo_Kim: Cas dates a normal human man with a good soul for a little while before he gets with Dean. Both of them know it isn't for forever, but they look after each other anyway. Told through the lens of story-swapping between gay friends and written with so much care & love. (You can thank @okologie for finding this one and making me read it despite my reservations.)

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo: Everyone recommends this fic but it's for a reason. Probably the best post-retirement fic there is, and definitely helped me form the neural connections to write Fenario, haha, I can't recommend this one enough. The complicated Dean and Sam issues are held with just as much weight as the Dean and Cas ones, although both are handled gently.

you and me in the war of the end times by stickthelanding (@tallahasseemp3): Alma knocked it out of the park with this one. THEE shotgunning fic. I've reread it more times than I can count, it has the loveliest atmosphere. I want to gnaw on this prose, said with love!

A Drinking Song by Balder12: Endverse snapshot. This one is mostly just bone hurting juice but it's one of my favorite characterizations of them - sometimes I find that endverse stories either make Cas way too soft or fucked up in a way I find goes too far in a direction I don't agree with, this one feels pitch perfect.

Everyone Is Trying to Get to the Bar by Balder12: All time fave angel true form fic!!! It's deliciously weird and fun, definitely a mind-melter. I only read it the once but sometimes I think about it and get a funny little shiver.

Tall Grass by aeli_kindara: This is another 'universal favorite', but also for good reason. Extraordinarily tender, it's my personal favorite Cas-grows-a-garden post canon story, especially because it manages to write a jealousy plotline that doesn't make me want to bite and kill. Dean's voice is exactly right and everything unfurls with this tender inevitability, idk how else to describe it! It also ends on a final image that's so lovely it's seared into my brain.

Dean (and Cas') Top 13 Zepp Traxx by pantheon_of_discord: Nobody does vignettes like supernatural writers. I love the way the road feels in this one, and how carefully picked each moment is. A string of pearls, this fic.

There's Only One Sure Thing That I Know by blinkiesays: Dean and Cas get trapped in the midwest by a curse that doesn't let them leave the state, and they want to break it until they don't. Being trapped gives them an excuse to want to settle down, but the route they take to get there is, of course, circuitous. This one hurts a little because it takes place while Sam is dead, but it isn't gratuitous in its sadness. Sweet and melancholy.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo: FAVE FAVE FAVE FAVE. I push this one at everyone I can. I'm extremely picky about 'Dean's self loathing' fics, mainly because I think it can veer easily into melodrama, but this author weaves Dean's self hatred and his anger together very seamlessly, in a way that feels real to the show. Also, Cas is perfect.

sweeter coming from my hand by perilously: A story that I liked before Nov5 and withstood the test of time!! Dean and Cas get married/soul-bound in order to both remove the Mark of Cain and fix Cas's grace. Features a formative scene for me where Cas expresses worries about if he has a soul and Dean raps knuckles on his chest, going, "knock knock, sounds like a soul in there." If you like this one, perilously has many good fics that are just as in character.

On Labor by a_good_soldier: I very nearly couldn't finish this one, but not because it's bad, haha. The premise just makes me want to tear my clothes in mourning - Dean knows Cas is in love with him, after getting him back from the Empty, and decides that he should give him what he wants without realizing that he wants it too. Dean performatively dating Cas while trying to talk himself into liking it (not knowing that he does actually like it) is exactly the kind of convoluted bullshit Dean's internalized homophobia would do to him. Nauseating and spectacular. Sticks in your brain for weeks.

canticles by 2street2car: An excellent 'weird girl best friends' fic. After striking out at the brothel, Dean decides to treat Cas to the "first date experience" himself, since the guy might die the next day. To sum it up succinctly: the rituals are intricate. And dirty dancing is referenced!

we shovel all the ashes out by xylodemon: As the author states themself, this fic is a love letter to California - it's a road trip casefic that's so rooted in place, the setting is rich and lush and the atmosphere makes me ache, and not just because it's set in my home state! I saved this one for last because this is another prolific author who has many stories I come back to again and again (Sweet Home and Love: A Retrospective are particularly good), they really don't miss. Usually when I read fic, it's a mad dash to the finish, but I took my time with this one. I highly encourage you to do the same :)

#dear god. ok. this got long #if u want more recs i mean it alie is Thee fic reccer i trust #but these are some gems i carry around w me :) #nathaniel.txt #answered #fic rec

[fungifaggot]

Polaroids

Request: You write for LiS ^_^ i would love to read m!reader x Nathan if you'd like to write about him :) perhaps something with reader taking photos of him constantly and pissing him off which leads to sexy times? 

Warnings: lots of swearing and suggestive themes.

A/n: Loved this request, I didn’t write full on smut (sorry bout that) because that’s all I've been writing so far. Even if its a lil janky I hope it’s close enough to what you wanted. Thanks for requesting

!Feel free to send constructive criticisms and requests are open!

_____________

*CLICK*

“Jesus Y/n, again? Seriously?” Nathan scoffed after being met face to face with the lens of your Polaroid for what felt like the hundredth time today.

“Aww what, is someone angwy~” You said as you jutted out your bottom lip, laughing when he rolled his eyes. You pulled out the image and shook it for a bit before rolling over to add it to the comically large pile you had created on the side of his bed.

“You’re annoying you know that right?” He stated bluntly.

“Yeah, and you’re hot. What about it?” You said turning your head towards him to send a wink, hiding the smirk that crept onto your face when you noticed the light shade of pink that dusted over his cheeks.

“I can’t stand you” he muttered

“Tch- oh c’monnn, you know you love me” you giggled out while nudging your elbow into his lower back.

What you didn’t know was that; Yeah. He did. Quite a lot actually.

Despite the contrast in your personalities, Nathan had fallen head over heels for you. For the longest time he didn't know why and he didn't want to believe it either, but with the way you made that boy blush, stutter, and trip over his own words like a fool, he knew he was fucked and that there was no denying it. 

He couldn't help but to think about you all the time. Think about the way you actually listened to him, the way you genuinely enjoyed his company, the way you made him laugh like no one else could, or even just the fact that you  genuinely cared for him as a person. 

Whatever it was, he liked it about you. And you were the exact same way. 

You had liked Nathan for a while now. When you first met him you knew right off the bat that he was attractive, but the more you talked to him and the longer you knew him, the harder you fell and the harder it was to be around him all the time. 

As much as you loved being around Nathan, controlling your emotions eventually became hell. And no matter how many flirtatious jokes you made or how close he was to you, it was never enough. You wanted him to be in your arms (and in your bed). You wanted him to be yours.

And for now, he wasn't. 

You sat back up and began to search through your pile. A lot of them were actually quite good, there were pictures of him from inside his truck, some from when you went to the Two Whales Diner, and a few that you had taken on campus. 

While looking you laughed abruptly when you came across multiple photos where he was very clearly pissed off or in the process of trying to snatch your camera away. This caught Nathans attention and he turned around immediately

 “What?” He asked with furrowed eyebrows.

“Nuthinnn~” You replied with a snort.

“Don’t be an ass, just show me.”

“Me being an ass? Nathan all you ever are is an ass” You sneered, yanking the picture away when he attempted to reach for it. 

You knew this wasn’t going to end well, but there was no way in hell you were just going to let him win. In a rush you quickly gathered the pile and stood up. You both stared at each other from opposite sides of the bed, awaiting each others next move.

“They’re pictures of me, if anything I should be the one who gets to look at them.” He said, pointing a finger at you accusingly.

“Yeah yeah sure, but how are you supposed to do that if you don’t have them.”

“Just give them to me.” he growled

“Hell no.” you said, laughing at the way his eyebrows raised in a brief moment of shock. You on the other hand stood there with a shit eating grin waiting eagerly for his response. 

What you weren't expecting though was for him to jump up onto the bed and lunge directly at you.

“Oh n-”  You started, dropping all the pictures and going to catch him instead. As soon as he landed in your arms, you tossed him aside like trash and raced towards the fallen pictures. As soon as Nathan got onto his feet he did the same, shoving you to the floor in the process.

He frantically grabbed as many as he could. That is, until you picked him up from under his armpits like a toddler, body slammed him down onto the bed, and belly flopped on top of him without a second thought. 

“ACK- Y/n you fat asshole get off of me!”

You perked your head up at that, gasping heavily while placing your hand on your chest clearly pretending to be offended. 

“How dare you” you said mockingly

“Oh my god Y/nnn, seriously just get off of me I can’t breathe.” he groaned out.

You laughed and finally lifted your body weight off of him, now trapping him between your legs as you hovered over him instead.

You couldn't help, but notice his flustered cheeks and disheveled hair. Or the way his chest rose and fell as he tried to catch his breath from his tantrum. 

Shit. You were really turned on.

You looked into his eyes and noticed him staring right back at you, and maybe you were just imagining things, but for a split second his eyes drifted down to your lips and back up to your intense gaze. Neither of you spoke for what felt like hours until Nathan finally chimed in 

“Keep staring at me like that and I might just think you’re in love with me or something” He said following it with a dull laugh. 

“Who says I'm not?” You ‘joked’ raising your eyebrows up and down, making him roll his eyes once again. 

“Y’know, that’s what I can’t stand about you Y/n. You’re always joking around and I can never tell when you’re serious.” He mumbled, sounding genuinely upset.

He roughly shoved you in the chest, making you sit up straight and just about straddle him.

“What, do you want me to be serious?” you asked.

A few moments of silence passed by and he didn’t bother to respond. Instead he tried to wiggle his way out from between your legs, stopping instantly when he felt the warmth of your hands on his face. You cupped his cheek and placed a gentle kiss on his lips. When you opened your eyes back up he looked damn near paralyzed. 

“Oh... No? I just thou-” You started to rush out in a panic before getting pulled back into a kiss by the collar of your shirt. You placed a hand on the back of his neck, and the other on the headboard in order to maintain balance.

His lips were impossibly soft and tasted of vanilla from the shakes that you had drank earlier. As cliche as it is, in that very moment you swore that you could feel sparks fly inside of you.

What had started out as a gentle kiss quickly became one full of desperation and need. His hands gripped your shirt pulling you as close to him as possible. You bit on and pulled his lip before going back in, this time forcing your tongue into his mouth. He whined into the kiss as your hand danced along his sides and then down to his ass, where you gave it a firm squeeze.

You both pulled away, breathing heavily. You looked him up and down, analyzing everything about him. Analyzing the way his shirt was lifted up just enough to expose his v line, the way he had spread his legs further apart, and even the way his pants seemed to be much tighter than they were before.

You looked back at his flustered face and smiled at him softly, leaning back down to kiss him, but before you did so you shifted so that your knee was up against his crotch, making him moan out loud. His cheeks turned a deep red and he turned his head, unable to look you in the eye. You took a hold of his chin and directed it towards your face, running your thumb over his bottom lip before giving it another kiss. 

You moved down to his jawline, trailing kisses alongside it while he tilted it back to give you more access. You nipped at his ear before proceeding to make your way down his neck, sucking and biting as you did so. You pulled his collar down and began to leave marks. He arched his back and rubbed his chest up against yours before pathetically moaning out

“Y/n, please just fuck me already.”

You pulled away from his neck and looked him dead in the eyes before responding nonchalantly with

“Nah."

His eyes widened in a mixture of both shock and anger. He sat up immediately and pushed you so that you were no longer hovering over him.

“You bitch, and why not!?”

“Cause we’re not even dating.” You replied as if it were obvious. 

He knew that you couldn’t care less about whether you were dating or not and that you were obviously just trying to get on his nerves. And goddamn were you succeeding at that. 

“You’re such an asshole” He muttered, much too horny to bother yelling at you.

“Yeah yeahhh, but I could be your asshole.” You countered, chuckling a little at how stupid you sounded.

He scoffed and turned away. 

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever I guess.” he mumbled while crossing his arms. 

You smiled widely and peppered kisses all over the side of his face before crashing next to him on the bed and pulling him against your chest.

“Just put your fucking third leg away, its distracting.”

________

Tags: 

@katsukispicycaramel @marvelgbtposts @ablake-x082 @myfeetkeepdancing @eliotsbambimargo @jerod-writes @malereaderinsert @dis-boi-be-a-gay-peter @malereader-inserts @hotjellycow @baldsaitama @sodapopblogs @smygarding @luv-hqs @skysyama @sowa534 @that-bi-bitch-writes

(Don’t be afraid to ask to be removed if it bothers you.)

#male reader #male reader insert #x male reader #life is strange #nathan prescott #seme male reader #nathan prescott x reader #nathan prescott x male reader #dom male reader #top male reader #lis

[moviegroovies]

confession time: for someone who (semi) actively runs a movie blog, i really haven’t seen a lot of classic movies.

(i know this comes as a shock for those of y’all who have been subjected to nothing but my half-baked thoughtpieces on bad 80′s horror for the past couple of years, but bear with me.) 

to be honest, even this review doesn’t REALLY represent me making an active choice to remedy that so much as it does me pulling a long con where i endear myself to marilyn monroe by watching her movies to get myself excited to watch the miniseries blonde (2001), for abnormally pretty, young jensen ackles purposes*, but let’s not dwell on all that. the practical result is the same; i watched some like it hot (1959). now, i hope y’all are ready for a few some like it Thoughts™:

first, idk how much attention y’all have been paying to the loose bits of personal lore i occasionally scatter within my reviews, but one thing about myself that i feel i’ve been pretty open about is the fact that i’m trans. this being so, and knowing not a whole lot about the movie beyond the very basic premise “1959 extended man in a dress gag,” i can’t say i went in with the highest of expectations. imagine my surprise, then, when the gender aspect of this movie was... actually pretty good? i mean, full disclosure, it’s not exactly gender studies, but it’s passable! it’s tolerable! there were even a few moments where i felt inclined to say the words “oh, GENDER?” out loud!

perhaps most impressively, i’d say the Cis Creator Cringe Factor of some like it hot was actually impressively LOWER than a lot of modern moves with genderswapping premises tend to be. like, i know that one definite explanation for that would be the fact that trans experiences are more widespread today, so modern filmmakers don’t feel comfortable playing with ideas like this without at least giving lipservice to them, while the era that bore some like it hot didn’t face the same “pressure,” but, okay. listen. compared to another movie i watched recently--freaky (2020), in which a teenage girl swaps bodies with serial killer vince vaugn, featuring one incredibly anvilicious scene where, upon being informed by a gay boy that she’s in the men’s bathroom, the girl’s best friend retorts, “she [vince vaugn]’s got a dick in her hand, and you’re wearing chanel no. 5. i think we’re past labels.”--some like it hot, a movie older than my father, was wayyyy easier to watch**. actually, you know what? yeah. listen to me. cis content creators? movie producers? i’m talking to you. DON’T EVEN BRING GENDER (or gender “identities”... which is an incredibly gross term, anyway) UP IF YOU’RE NOT PLANNING TO DO SOMETHING WITH IT. sincerely, this particular bad taste corner of the trans community :).

...anyway.

some like it hot, by contrast, did it right. YES, the premise of the movie was two presumably cis men in disguise as women. i’ll put that in the open. however, there was a certain... i don’t know if “respect” is the right word, but there was an avoidance, at least, of the usual predatory tropes. in fact, the worst behavior by far from either main character comes when joe manages to take off his female disguise, donning another, male persona and using things that sugar (marilyn’s character) confided in “josephine” to create a nonthreatening, desirable “millionaire” in order to trick her into sex. okay, like i said, it’s not gender studies, but, the humor in some like it hot comes from generally the right place. joe and jerry don their female disguises in a matter that in quite literally life and death for them (and it’s more than the creators ever thought of, i’m sure, but there IS an interesting analysis to be had of them needing to pass to live), which to a degree removes the usual pitfalls of male to female crossdressing as a gag; they’re neither doing it for lecherous reasons, nor to parody the female experience. this being a comedy, there is a degree of humor found in the situation, but it’s directed at jerry and joe, the characters, more than their disguises. the general assumption is that they both pass without question, as long as they’re wearing their ladies’ clothes; jerry once comments that he’s “not even pretty,” but it’s never an issue to contend with. 

wrt the crossdressing, the worst moment for me, personally, was a scene on the train when jerry prepared to take off the disguise in order to sleep with sugar, and even this ends up comedically averted at jerry’s expense.

and speaking of jerry.

jerry is actually the most compelling part of the movie for me, especially viewing it through the lens of gender. while joe, who gets the girl and manages to spend large chunks of the latter part of the film in his second, male disguise, never thinks too much about what they’re doing beyond the survival aspect of it, jerry is the one who, erm, “gets into character.” joe’s female name is simply josephine; before they get on the train with the woman musicians, it’s assumed that jerry will be going by “geraldine.” however, when they give their introductions, the duo becomes josephine... and daphne. 

as the movie progresses, this distinction grows more pronounced; when joe has to remind a smitten jerry on the train that he’s a girl, referring to their disguises, jerry miserably repeats the affirmation: “i’m a girl. i’m a girl. i want to die. i’m a girl.” later on, however, as joe’s relationship with sugar develops, “daphne” becomes acquainted with local horndog millionaire osgood, who he at first dislikes, but comes around to after being forced on a date as part of joe’s plan to trick sugar. after seeing jerry excited by the prospect of marrying osgood, a bewildered joe has to remind jerry why it’s an impossibility, and in the same miserable tone as before, jerry/daphne muddles through a new affirmation, one that definitely didn’t ring false to my trans ears: “i’m a boy. i’m a boy. i want to die. i’m a boy.” 

hm. actually, now i’m thinking about a trans male reading of joe. he was the one at first resistant to taking the job (with the all-female band), when they only needed money, and not a place to hide from an upset mob boss, but also the one who seems to know more about the role when it comes time to get into character. while jerrydaphne gets increasingly comfortable with femininity as time passes, joe never performs it in anything but a perfunctory, necessary way, and sloughs the costume EVEN WHEN the danger of being found out has not yet passed, because pretending for such a long period of time is just untenable. something about passing for female being a safe haven and a burden for both closeted (re-closeted, in this case) trans men and out trans women?

anyway. by the end, though both osgood and sugar do find out the truth about the disguises, sugar seems to instantly forgive joe for his treacherousness (again, referring more to his actions as the shell millionaire than his escapade in drag), while osgood appears unbothered by daphne’s truth, leading to an ambiguous ending for the futures of the characters, and any realizations that might come later.

no, it’s not the “real transgender experience.” it (thankfully) never claims to be. BUT, being trans myself, there were some moments that made me feel linked to our protagonists, and relatively few, if any, that made me feel alienated. all in all, that’s a lot more than i hoped for going in, so that’s what i’m happy with.

watch some like it hot, y’all. it’s a good movie in a timeless way, and, as modern movies appealing to short-lived trends that will feel outdated next week (if not by the very time of their release) will show you, that’s more than it needed to be. 

*since my original draft of this post, i DID watch blonde, and i don’t know if that’s technically fair game for this blog (not exactly a movie) or what, but 6/10. fairly well done piece of art but just BEATINGLY tragic, so proceed with caution. jensen ackles literally is THAT PRETTY though, so the jackles cut i give a strong 11/10. i am a homosexual.   **i would like to clarify that this isn’t me telling you not to watch freaky. yes, some of the dialogue is tragically riverdaleian, but there’s also a scene where vince vaugn makes out with a teenage boy. so,

#some like it hot #text post #freaky (2020) #link #jerry/daphne #joe #transgender

[hexalt]

Schitt’s Creek and the Transformative Power of Love

I first watched the pilot for Schitt’s Creek in the early part of 2019 and found it...eccentric. Not really funny, the characters weren’t speaking to me (except for Stevie (Emily Hampshire), whom I felt a kinship with), and the story seemed odd. I decided this show just wasn’t for me, and I had given it my best shot. Many months later, one of my best friends was posting about it frequently. Since we have the same taste, I thought maybe it was just the pilot. Maybe I should give it another shot. Maybe this time I’ll actually like it. So I started it from the pilot again, and I kept watching even if I wasn’t thoroughly entertained. I soon grew to love the two black sheep and having characters you understand always makes things easier.

What I didn’t realize when I started the show was that the characters were each more than they seem, they weren’t meant to be shallow jokes of themselves and their personas. The way they acted was often a façade hiding their insecurities of not being good enough in a variety of ways. The only other show that I’ve seen with a somewhat similar premise is Arrested Development, but there the characters are supposed to be absolutely ignorant, privileged assholes with no redeeming qualities.

I didn’t realize each season is better than the last, an astounding and rare feat in television. The quality of each season improves as the show quickly finds its footing by discarding early storylines that didn’t really work and letting the characters slowly becoming more grounded and open. This family that was once so distant that the parents didn’t even know their daughter’s middle name eventually develop genuine relationships for the first time with each other and other people.

Schitt’s Creek, co-created by father and son, Eugene (American Pie, Best in Show) and Dan Levy, wanted us to ultimately empathize with these characters, even if the remnants of their wealth can make them profoundly delusional and hilarious a lot of the time. Before writing the show, they created timelines going back to their characters’ elementary school years, detailing everything from where they worked to what they wore.

The fashion on the show is distinct and the best dressed I’ve seen in any show (and most films). Dan is huge into fashion and personally selects a lot of pieces worn in the show (some of David’s clothes are even from his own wardrobe). Instead of constantly telling the audience that this family used to be rich, we are reminded of it through Moira’s wall of wigs and couture black and white ensembles, David’s patterned black sweaters and low crotch pants, Alexis’s bohemian dresses and headbands, and Johnny’s array of business suits. When they enter any room in town, they are clearly fish out of water.

Schitt’s Creek centers on the Roses, a once-disgustingly wealthy family who lose their fortune and are forced to move to the only asset they have left: a small town named Schitt’s Creek that Johnny Rose (Eugene Levy) bought as a joke for his son, David (Dan Levy). So dilapidated is Schitt's Creek and so destitute are the Roses, they don't even have a house of their own; instead they are forced to live in a motel with two connecting rooms, forgoing all the luxury they had become accustomed to and, more terrifyingly, are now physically closer than ever.

While at first the family is horrified at the prospect of living in such a small town with townies, they eventually embrace the weirdness of the town, and it makes them grow in unexpected ways. Johnny was once the owner of the second-largest video rental store in the country and retains his businessman-like self through and through, but he also began the show more uppity. While he is often the most reasonable of the Roses, he often sees himself as above others in town and gets into awkward situations because of it. Over the course of the show he ends up developing a friendship with the town mayor to whom he initially had yelled “get the fuck out!” While he’s always devoted to his wife, he wasn’t so keen on his children, but being forced to live together makes him take a larger interest in their lives and become a better father.

Alexis (Annie Murphy) is the quintessential “dumb blonde” socialite who’s had a Schitt-ton of relationships with powerful men, making stories of her past highly entertaining, often illegal, and frequently frightening. She clearly grew up way too fast, never having had proper adult supervision. She’s reliant on men, and all she can think about in season one is trying to date cute guys. In the following seasons, she realizes it’s time to start growing up and gets her high school and Associate’s Degree to start her own PR business. She becomes a more enlightened version of herself, still deeply kind but also willing to put the happiness of others above her own. The Alexis who previously couldn’t see beyond her own nose becomes independent and more selfless.

David’s had hundreds of flings with people of all genders, but they seem to be replete with abuse, manipulation, and a lack of care for his being. This is unsurprising when we see how he hides his insecurity behind sarcasm and sometimes downplays things he doesn’t like to fit in. He fears showing kindness to anyone because others haven’t always been so kind to him. Early on, he has a panic attack and comes to the realization that he’s “really lonely here,” but he’s been lonely for a lot longer than that. What he doesn’t expect is to make his first best friend or find his soon-to-be husband in this backwater town. In the process, he learns to shed some of his armor.

Moira (Catherine O’Hara) was once on a soap opera, Sunrise Bay, and retains the melodrama in her day-to-day life and demeanor. She is constantly trying to become what she believes is a star: someone who acts in film, someone who everyone mourns when they die, someone who people will just pay one sliver of attention to. She’s desperately trying to cling to the spotlight, but in “Life is a Cabaret,” she finds what I believe will be her place come this final season. Rather than trying to constantly soak up attention, she gives Stevie the starring role in the town’s production of Cabaret (which Moira comes to direct) because getting that role was a “gift that once jolted [her] out of [her] little podunk routine.” From the wings of the stage, as Stevie slowly builds into “Maybe This Time” with such breathtaking passion and joy after starting off unsure and quiet, Moira is shocked at what she was able to bring out of Stevie. She’s finally realizing that her place isn’t center stage but in bringing out the best in others and helping them find their place in the world.

Stevie Budd begins as the desk clerk of the Schitt’s Creek motel until her great-aunt passes away, and she inherits the motel. From there she has to decide whether she’s ready to grow up and take over the family business, and she’s terrified. Johnny soon teams up with her in the business, renovating the motel and renaming it after both of them, so she sees the Roses aren’t going to abandon her. She is part of the Rose’s found family. Her and David are similar in their bluntness and sarcasm, but Stevie is insecure about never making it out of the town, never being more than a motel desk clerk, never having a long-term romantic relationship. She worries while everyone moves on with their lives, she’s “watching it all happen from behind the desk.”

Dan describes creating Schitt’s Creek as “writing a world that examines the transformational effects of love when the threat of hate and intolerance has been removed from the equation.” While homophobia is often front and center in any media depicting LGBT characters, Schitt’s Creek doesn’t give it as much thought. Where small towns are usually seen as ripe for homophobia, transphobia, and other discrimination, Schitt’s Creek doesn’t fall prey to this trope. Instead, this small town is bursting with love.

Dan purposely made David pansexual (it’s also the only show I’ve seen use the word) to challenge the viewer’s biases and push the boundaries of what it means to be masculine and feminine. David’s parents and others in the town never discuss it as anything strange or bad, it’s something he simply is and as common as the sky being blue. When David tells Stevie about his sexuality (“I like the wine, not the label”), she’s a bit surprised at first because she thought he was gay, but ultimately she doesn’t care.

This doesn’t mean the show never discusses what homophobia can be like, but it comes at it from a different lens.

For example, in “Meet the Parents,” David decides to throw a surprise birthday party for his boyfriend, Patrick Brewer (Noah Reid). What David doesn’t realize is Patrick hasn’t come out to his parents yet, they think David is solely his business partner. He tells David, “I know my parents are good people, I just...can’t shake this fear that there is a small chance that this could change everything.” David himself is prepared for homophobia from Patrick’s parents, but when they tell him they don’t care about that, just that he was hiding such an important part of himself from them, David who’s been trying to stay strong through it all wipes a tear.

“When I found myself in a position to tell stories on a global scale, I seized the opportunity to make a television show that might, in its own way, offer some support, encouragement and love to those who might not have it in their homes or in their schools or in their day to day lives. It’s a place where acceptance incubates joy and creates a clarity that allows people to see themselves and each other more deeply. It’s fiction, yes. But I’ve always been told to lead by example and this felt like a good place to start.”

— Dan Levy

I would be remiss to not touch on the comedic style of the show. This is a comedy that relies heavily on the physicality of its actors. Their facial expressions, accents and tonality, their limp wrists, each create uniquely funny characters with mannerisms unlike any I’ve seen. The cast brought nuance to the characters, when they could have easily fallen into vapid stereotypes.

As season 6 premiered on January 7, Schitt’s Creek is not done yet, and I can’t wait to see how its final season concludes. The characters are all happier now that they are achieving dreams they may not have known they had, they have fulfilling relationships with family and friends, and they all have grown into better people. Schitt’s Creek truly was their saving grace.

*

I’m in a TV group where we wrote essays on our favorite shows of the 2010s, so here is mine on Schitt’s Creek.

#schitt's creek #television #tv #lgbt #lgbtq #writing #mine #long post #*

[komoryriku]

Queering KH Part 3: A JoshNeku Aside

An Example In Practice

If you already feel like you understand queer coding then you can skip this but I wanna play here for a minute x). KH as a series is rather subliminal in its queer coding, which makes sense since it was originally released in 2002, which meant its gay story would need to be highly censored. As such, I don’t wanna just jump in without giving you a clear sense of how to decode a queer text and what you’ll wanna look for when queering a text. So let’s do something super fun and easy as fuck. Let’s Queer Joshua! As if he doesn't do that himself already lmao

Joshua Kiryuu is one of my favorite characters- ever lol he is so shameless in how gay he is. But I’m getting ahead of myself here, let’s go back to how we’re gonna decode Joshua as gay. 

So Joshua Kiryuu is a- character in The World Ends With You (TWEWY), a game developed by the same team as Kingdom Hearts, and creatively produced by KH’s Nomura Tetsuya himself. Spoilers ahead btw.

Just from looking at him, he isn’t necessarily gay coded. He looks like your stereotypical angelic bishonen but as I said before, that doesn’t mean anything in Japan. Only an American like me would look at this guy and say “This asshole is one dangerous twink” lol. What you should know about TWEWY however is it is a very contemporary fantasy story about dead kids in Shibuya receiving game instructions from (gay) reapers in the form of memes on their cell phones. This may be a stretch, but Nomura’s KH team already has to keep in mind how things come off to American audiences, especially with a game like this so targeted to teens. As such, I suppose it could be worth considering that Joshua was designed to be so feminine looking, on top of everything else I’m about to drop, which would make him seem gay coded to American players. Him displaying feminine behavior in the form of constant wrist flicks sure wouldn’t go unnoticed in America either… intentional or not that’s top tier gay coding in ‘merica right there. But like I said, probably meaningless by Japanese standards.

Here is what clear coding IS given to us though: Joshua’s text.

Joshua spends a whole scene demanding he be given Pink for his code-color during this cute little kid adventure he’s a part of. A menial, fun little task for Kami-Sama in his off time lol.

Pink is also typically a feminine color. This is true in Japan as well, that’s why Eri and Kairi are covered in Pink, as they are femme and it is standard for a girly girl. In America, its also a gay code, though I can’t say for sure if that counts as one Japan. The fact that a male here is actively embracing Pink for his code color still signals a non-normative personality though. And they certainly recognized its place in romantic coded symbolism:

“Blue and Pink go together.” Blue being Neku. See below.

I love reappropriating heteronormative tropes for our own gay agenda~

Joshua insists on going into the tunnel with Neku, and flirts with him in doing so. Yes you heard me, he flirts. Serious or unserious, Joshua flirts with Neku. He says he could never live with himself if he let Neku go it alone, and proposes they “spend some quality time” together.

Shiki and Beat then make the flustered comment that they didn’t realize Joshua and Neku were a couple, embarrassing Neku but amusing Joshua who leans right into it by calling him “dear.” This coding might actually be too easy lol that’s almost just gay text in itself, really. The characters insinuate that Joshua and Neku are a couple, due to Joshua’s unabashed flirting with Neku, and Joshua never once shies away from it. 

Neku’s response might leave us rather unsure of his own sexuality or feelings about Joshua, but he hardly fights the assumption they’re a couple beyond angrily shaking his fist at how Joshua just embarrassed him. But even so, either way, Joshua never once gives us a reason to think he himself is not gay, even if he isn’t interested in Neku as a partner. (Play TWEWY so you can learn about how likely it is that Neku actually likes Joshua back though 8)). Joshua should be well aware of how gay he is coming off to these people so if he cared to follow heteronormative rules, he would’ve stopped by now if he wanted to. He clearly doesn’t want to lol. Near-explicit as this may be, it is still text that depended on the Blue x Pink coding of romantic archetypes to be discussed by the characters. The only thing working against the fact that Joshua is gay is that you could argue that Joshua is just flirting with Neku to make him uncomfortable… But even as Yoshiya-, a Lamb of a Boy, a Joshua with no godliness or memories of TWEWY, the meek version of himself, -Joshua is still trying to read Neku poetry as soon as they meet. Reading poetry to someone is typically a signal or code that this character likes that person.

If these two were a boy and a girl, there would be no doubt at this point that Joshua is highly attracted to Neku. Always remember that standard in coding. If it makes sense for a boy and a girl to be romantic based on the coding, then it should and surely will make as much sense for 2 boys to be romantic with the same coding. If Shiki were to read Neku a poem, heteronormativity would assume she likes him romantically. Now, remove that heteronormative lens. If Joshua were to read Neku a poem, queer coding should tell you that Joshua likes Neku romantically.

It’s simple math. Straight: a+b=c Gay: a+b=c Straight: Shiki + poetry = Crush on Neku Gay: Joshua + poetry = Crush on Neku

The only difference being that the gay equations go unrecognized most of the time lol. Shiki is also coded as a lesbian so I hope you can forgive me for just using her as a hetero example.;;

Just as blue and pink go together with male and female, so do they go together with male and male. Blue and Pink are still kinda heterosexual-based symbols though..

But you know what IS definitely a gay symbol? 

Rainbow.

As if there were any doubts left about where Joshua’s sexuality lies, he gave us the most damning symbol possible besides explicitly kissing Neku or screaming “I’m Gay”, censors be damned. After all Joshua’s fuss about demanding to be Pink in their group’s color coding, he sees a Rainbow pin and IMMEDIATELY demands to be the Rainbow Pin. MVP Chef Doi making the rainbow pin just for Joshua specifically is so sweet too<3

And that’s not even covering the subtext about Joshua in the rest of TWEWY, (I didn’t even mention the Ramen Date he took Neku on), or even in Dream Drop Distance (didn’t comment on the longing he expresses to be with his friends, to be with Neku again). These are just some of the most explicit codings I know of for him. Hopefully you can agree with me when I say in the end, despite how much straight players might try to dismiss Joshua as gay, it is honestly just easier to believe he is gay, loves being gay, and actively wants to be with Neku. 

So now we’ve gotten through the preliminary, back to KH. The reasonI had us do that is that Kingdom Hearts, while still very gay, relies a lot harder on subtext than Joshua gives enough of a fuck to bother with. So I wanted to exercise us in some easy coding that is much harder to get past a straight pair of eyes before going into KH in which trained eyes are a greater requirement for finding and analyzing the subtext in various places. Fret not though, because this is Kingdom Heart’s secret weapon: the overt gay is so well hidden that the straight people who would cancel the gay agenda simply Cannot see it. Cannot touch it. Cannot stop it. Thankfully, WE will have the tools and power to uncover the gay subtext within. Now let’s deep dive into Kingdom Hearts.~

See you in Part 4 for Dream Drop Distance fun~

#kingdom hearts #twewy #the world ends with you #joshua kiryuu #joshneku #nekujosh

[wordsbynathan]

Character Profile: Neil Grant [The Psych Quartet]

Protagonist • 18 • Libra • INFJ • Fire {disaster gay//literal flaming homosexual//nature photographer//amnesiac with a desire for Justice™//often angery//mommy issues//impulsive as h*ck} [Character Tag]

Neil is a driven and compassionate person, stripped of his identity and seeking answers. His life has been split into Before and Now, which leaves him reeling, detached. He can be overly sensitive and a bit insecure, but he makes up for it in his desire to do what is right and to see the underlying beauty in the world. Though he can't remember anything about his past, he often finds himself viewing his surroundings with a photographer's eye, and he finds himself particularly drawn to the flora in the rooftop garden of Harmonium. Neil possesses a natural charm that comes through despite his capriciousness, and in his quest to uncover the truth, he finds himself drawing unwanted attention that could endanger his life in this new world.

So. Where to start with my literal biological child, Neil Grant, love of my life...

Neil’s got it rough. He wakes up in a cluttered office that reeks of coffee and some preppy French professor-looking guy tells him that his mom is dead and he’s also a superhuman. He’s had better days okay?

At first, he really struggles to adapt to this situation. After witnessing some senseless violence in the middle of his orientation, Neil is basically forced to accept the reality of his situation. It also helps that his roommate is super hot. So he says “frick it” and sticks around, because he’s got nowhere else to go (his dad is the major suck and hates superhumans; one of his mother’s final commands is that Neil be kept from his dad after his powers manifest).

The thing is, because his identity is basically erased, he’s looking at the world through a fairly unbiased lens. He sees things for what they are, and he starts to realize that there’s something sinister going on behind the scenes at Harmonium. Through some snooping and bits and pieces of word of mouth, Neil starts to put together a theory that people like him are being targeted by the weaker but larger population at Harmonium, and someone close to him could potentially be at the helm of that movement.

Neil emits a single laugh, a sound closer to choking, and then he’s laughing, really laughing, doubled over and holding onto his own knees for fear of his body shaking apart, and once he’s able to stop and take a breath and wipe a tear away from his cheek, he says “That’s fucking hilarious,” because people don’t say things like that, and people shouldn’t say things like that to fragile boys who don’t know where their lives have gone.

Enough about the plot though, let’s talk about Neil as a character. In his past life, his Before, he was a nature photographer and a total nerd (and therefore can recite any plant’s Latin name should you need him to). He’s typically pretty soft n cute, but when you get him going his temper can really boil over--one of the downsides of being a Fire Psych.

He can be like a dog with a bone when he has a theory, to the point of pissing off everyone around him. The thing is......he’s usually right?!?!? LMAO!??!!? But he’s not the type to drop “I told you so”s even when this is the case.

Neil tends to be impulsive; he likes to keep people on their toes, and sometimes he surprises even himself when he makes these split-second decisions. Not particularly interested in preserving the preexisting social order, Neil falls in with a small group of fellow queer students who guide him through the start of his schooling. He also breaks a few hearts along the way, but it’s only out of self-preservation.

One thing about Neil: he’s a very naturally gifted Psych. His mother is infamous in the Psych community for being one of the most powerful Elite agents in years, and right from the start, Neil has the student body of Harmonium wondering if he’s going to move in and fill her recently empty shoes. He very quickly grows into his abilities, though he has qualms about using them and their potential for destruction.

Neil draws his hands to either side of his body and holds on to the tips of each flame, allowing them to expand outward into twin ropes. He cracks them against the pavement, which launches a flurry of sparks above him. With another intentional breath, he freezes the sparks into a glittering dome, each minute star whirling in place.

Neil two major physical idiosyncrasies: the first is that whenever he feels anxious, he can’t help but chew the heck out of his bottom lip. Shit’s always chapped and gross but there are at least two (2) boys who wanna kiss him anyway??? The other is his hair; like his mother, he was born with odd gray-blond locks, the color of ash, like someone took golden hair and turned the saturation all the way down. Neil’s 5′8″, a textbook twink, and a big fan of comfy clothes and anything pastel.

Aside from being a complete conspiracy theorist (#TeamMyMomIsn’tReallyDead!!!), Neil is fairly easygoing and is really just searching for some purpose in this chaotic world he’s been thrown into. In the first book of this series, we see him come to terms with who he is. The rest of the series follows Neil and explores the conflict as he accepts what he must do.

[Tag list below! Feel free to ask to be added/removed :)]

@infinitely-empty-pages @dustylovelyrun @oddsandinks

#wip: burned #series: tpq #oc: neil grant #character profile #oc #wip #writing #mine #writeblr #writeblr character #writeblr community #idk if any of those tags actually worked oh well fuck my drag i guess #like the user tags i mean

[stars-and-rose]

Some Birthday Fluff

It’s Thomas’s Birthday! And honestly, I had to write something birthday related to celebrate!

Fandom: Thomas Sanders/Sanders Sides

Pairings: None, it’s all platonic goodness here!

Summary: It’s literally what the title says. Birthday fluff.

Word Count: 1,603

Trigger Warnings: None!

Today was important. If only Thomas could remember why. He laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling, attempting to remember why he thought today was so important. Was he supposed to film today? No, that wasn't it. Did he have plans? Not that he could remember. So what was- "Um, excuse me, why are you awake?" A familiarly annoying voice snapped, followed by the obnoxious sound of slurping. Thomas rolled over at glared at the aspect. "Hmmm?" Remy, as the Fanders had dubbed Thomas's Sleep, seemed to roll his eyes behind the dark lens of his sunglasses. "It's seven am, babe. Too early to be up. It's me time, back to bed."

"But-" "If you're not going to appreciate me, I'm going to go out for the whole week." Remy threatened. Thomas sighed, rolling back over and burying his head in his pillow, "Only an hour." "Mmmhmm, so like three." Remy tossed his empty Starbucks drink onto the floor, sitting on the edge of Thomas's bed and pulling out his phone. As soon as he heard Thomas began to snore, he sent a simple text. "he's out. get ur shit done down there, babes.' ------ Downstairs, hell had broken loose. Patton was in the kitchen, electric mixer in one hand and can of sprinkles in the other. His eyes kept glancing to the handwritten recipe book on the counter, and cake batter was spattered all over his clothing. The kitchen smelled like vanilla and sweets, and containers of food dye were thrown half-hazardly across the counter. Sitting on the living room floor was Logan, holding a pair of scissors as he cut through the wrapping paper. Scraps of the colorful paper covered the floor by his feet, and pieces of tape were stuck on his arms. A small pile of presents was stacked next to the logical side. Roman was practicality hanging off a ladder, trying to put up a banner with a suspicious amount of glitter decorating words written in fancy cursive. Virgil was holding the ladder, stabilizing the equipment so the dramatic side on the ladder wouldn't fall, and making sure the banner was straight. (Even though Roman claimed he was incapable of hanging it straight and had to hang it gay.) And Deceit was sitting on the opposite side of the room, admiring the pure chaos in front of him. The phone in his lap went off, and the local snake looked down, reading the message. "Remy says he got Thomas asleep, but he doesn't know for how long." Now, that last part hadn't been included in the message, but Deceit couldn't help but snicker as the announcement caused the other sides to become even more panicked. Deceit continued to observe the chaos, calling out occasional helpful tips such as, "Patton the cake is going to burn," "Logan, you ripped the wrapping paper," or "Roman you're about to fall off the ladder." (The last one was practically the most fun to say, as it caused Roman to actually almost fall and Virgil freak out about how dumb the creative side was.) What? Just because Deceit agreed to help the others with this celebration didn't mean he wasn't going to have fun with it. ------- Thomas woke up again, his mind much clearer. How long had Remy gotten him to sleep for? A look at his clock showed it was almost ten. Thomas sat up abruptly, scaring the annoyance that was his sleep. "Babes- more sleep?" "No, it's time to get up." After a brief argument with Remy, Thomas rolled out of bed and stared at the wall for a solid minute. He was forgetting something, but he still couldn't remember what- A loud crash echoed from downstairs. Thomas jumped, "What was that?" Remy shrugged a little too quickly for it to be nonchalant. "I'm sure it was nothing. Hun-" But Thomas was already out the door. He scrambled down the stairs, expecting a thief or a murderer to be standing in his living room. Instead, he found his sides. Patton had icing in his hair and was sticking candles into a cake. Logan was standing over his shoulder, counting the number of candles Morality put into the desert. Roman and Virgil were sprawled across the living room floor, both looking tired, Roman glaring at a ladder that was on the ground next to him. Anxiety was lecturing Creativity about "How god damn stupid are you to fall off the ladder-."  Deceit was lounging on the couch, and he was the first to meet eyes with their host. "The jig definitely is not up." That caused a round of chaos, Patton almost sticking his hand into the cake and Logan almost stabbing Patton with the candle he was holding. Virgil and Roman got off the floor, both a bit red-faced. The room was quiet for a few seconds before Patton broke it with a soft and bright, "Happy Birthday!" Thomas tilted his head, staring at the room. The cake Patton and Logan had the words "Happy birthday, Thomas!" written in blue icing. A stack of presents was next to the cake, all wrapped expertly. The room was filled with a rainbow of balloons (though there were more red and purple balloons than any other color) and a big banner proclaiming the same words as the cake. Oh. It was his birthday. Thomas looked back up the stairs, where Remy was leaning against the wall. "You were in with this, weren't you?" Remy grinned lazily. "The sides asked for me to keep you distracted. Think of it as my birthday gift to you, a few more hours of sleep. Now, I'm out of Starbucks and that simply doesn't work, babe. Ciao!" With that final remark, the aspect vanished in a cloud of white. Thomas blinked, glaring at the spot where Remy once was. "He better come back tonight." "Don't worry about that, happy birthday kiddo!" Patton gave him a bear hug, nearly knocking him over. Thomas laughed a bit. "You guys planned me a party?" "It was mostly Logan doing the planning," Virgil noted, and Roman nodded picking up the ladder and leaning it against the wall. The logical side seemed a bit smug as he nodded to the other's statement. "You guys didn't have too-" "But we did! Now, no more talking, I made a cake." The fatherly figure of the group dragged Thomas to the kitchen, forcing him to sit. The others crowded around him, and as soon as Logan finished lighting the candles, the lights were switched off. A quick rendition of happy birthday filled the air, with Roman singing like it was the climax of a Broadway show and Logan rapping it. It was a strange thing to listen to, but Thomas was too elated to care. As soon as the song stopped, Thomas took a deep breath and blew out the candles. It took three tries, but he managed to extinguish all the flames. "Did you make a wish?" Roman asked. Thomas winked at the fanciful side. "You know I did." Patton begins to cut the cake (with Virgil reminding him every three seconds to be careful with the knife). The moral side had made a layer cake, each layer forming a rainbow, with rainbow sprinkles mixed into the white icing. "This is horrible, Patton," Deceit said with a mouthful of cake. Morality's face fell. Logan sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Deceit is lying, Patton." "Oh! Thank you then!" Patton ran over and gave the snake-like side a hug. Thomas couldn't help snorting at the confused expression on Deceit's face. Once the cake had been finished, Roman clapped his hands excitedly. "Present time!" Thomas's attention was drawn to the stack of presents on the counter. "You guys got me gifts?" Virgil nodded, and from his position on the counter, right next to presents, handed him the gift on top of the pile. "Logan wrapped these, but I'm pretty sure this one's mine." Thomas carefully unwrapped the paper, revealing a small roll-on bottle. Before Thomas could ask, his anxious side said. "I've been reading up on ways to help with anxiety, and I saw that essential oils can help? I know there's orange and cedarwood in there, but I can't remember the rest-" "Thanks, Virge. I really appreciate it." Thomas beamed at him, and Virgil flashed a peace sign before grabbing the next gift. "I think This one's Logan and Roman's." Thomas blinked. "Logan. Roman- you worked together? Without setting something on fire?" "Hey! We can work together perfectly fine!" Logan nodded along. "We had similar ideas, it made sense to collaborate." After unwrapping the present, Thomas looked down at the small journal in his hands. "It's a book of poetry." Logan supplied. "Logan and I took turns writing poems, and there's 356 in there, one for each day in the year!" Another smile formed on Thomas's lips. "It's fantastic. Thanks, you two." As Virgil handed over the last gift, Patton bounced up and down on his heels. "That one's mine!" The wrapping paper removed, Thomas held up a scrapbook. "Patton, did you make this?" "Yes-sir-re! I found some old photographs lying around in my room and decided to make this!" "That's so sweet, thank you!" Logan looked over at Deceit. "Did you get him a present?" Deceit rolled his eyes, flicking his hands out in jazz hands. "I'm here, and I'm not causing problems. Isn't that a good enough  present?" Thomas gave him a light smile. "It works for me." It really did. The warmth in Thomas's chest made his smile grow, and he knew this was going to be a birthday he remembered.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #remy sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #janus sanders #sympathetic deceit #kinda? he's kinda just chilling here not gotta lie #get it haha! #i'll leave #ANYWAY #Birthday #birthday fluff #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #happy birthday thomas! #emily writes

[neriad13]

Best of the Best Media Consumed 2019!

This year I had a whole lot of focus on nonfiction, film and comics. Resolution for next year: read more fiction. Seriously, I read over three times more nonfiction than fiction this year. I read a little over one novel a month. But I really do love picking up a book on something I know nothing about and coming away knowing more than something. X-P

Anyway! The list!

Books - Fiction

Out of the 17 works of fiction I read this year, the best of the best is...

The Snow Queen, by Joan Vinge

The Snow Queen was one of my absolute favorite fairy tales as a child. The 2002 film adaptation of it was one of the things I watched endlessly. 

It was SO MUCH FUN picking apart this sci-fi retelling and discovering which characters are meant to represent the ones from the original story (of particular interest: the character representing the reindeer is human in this...and he has a one night stand with the character representing Gerta. Yes, I’m still cracking up about this. Yes, it actually was a pretty well written scene). 

But the absolute best part of it was the masterful characterization. Every single character has ulterior motives and often heartbreaking reasons for why they are the way they are - especially including the Snow Queen herself, whose final scene is horrifying, tragic and beautiful. 

I always like me some solid villain characterization.

Runner Up:

Fairy Tales: Traditional Stories Retold for Gay Men

I am not a gay man...but this very much spoke to me. It was at turns heartwarming and hilarious and the turns these fairy tales took felt so natural, like they’d been told that way all along. 

There are also many allusions to AIDS in the stories - sometimes as something a character is directly dealing with whether in himself, or a loved one and sometimes under the guise of a metaphor for inevitability. These ones were my favorites (aside from The Frog Prince, which was turned into a metaphor for accepting the process of aging with grace). 

Books - Nonfiction

Oh boy. There’s...definitely going to be more than one here. Of the 65 works of nonfiction I read this year, my favorites were...

Smoke Gets in Your Eyes & Other Lessons From the Crematory

A memoir about the author’s time spent working as a crematory operator and her entry into the funeral business. This book was absolutely hilarious (it contains a story about the author getting absolutely soaked with corpse fat that wouldn’t stop flowing straight out of the incinerator), tragic (a 12 year old girl is cremated and her ashes are mailed back to her parents as part of a cremation mail-in program) and extremely poignant (the author talks openly about the time she was contemplating suicide). 

I love Caitlin’s youtube channel and I loved this book even more.

My Age of Anxiety

Partially the memoir of a man who has battled his extreme anxiety his entire life, a historical study of famous figures who have also endured it and a scientific look into why it exists at all. 

Ultimately, it offers no answers. As of the writing of the book, the author has found no treatment that helps him for longer than a few months. But what he has found over the course of his research is that he is not alone - that anxiety has historically been a factor in scientific breakthroughs and artistic accomplishments. And that perhaps most importantly, that anxiety has been a key part of human evolution from the start, which served a vital role in the survival of the species. 

Mental illness or evolutionary adaptation? Is there even a line between them?

Cassell’s Encyclopedia of Queer Myth, Symbol and Spirit

This is the only book, period, devoted to queer mythology, that I have ever been able to find. But the good news is that it’s fairly extensive (though the authors themselves admit that they had trouble finding as much information about non-western mythology as they did for western mythology), is chock full of references and is extremely thorough in the information it presents. 

I’ll admit that it was a slog to get through at times, but what it’s provided has been invaluable to my conception of history and my own place in it. 

Also, I can now say beyond a shadow of a doubt that almost every culture on earth has at some point in their history had a tradition of transgender shamans.

Hope After Faith

This is the memoir of a charismatic Pentecostal pastor turned atheist. It follows him from teenagerhood and the beginnings of his dream to be a preacher to a little bit after his deconversion decades later. 

The eventual crumbling of his faith was something that spoke to me on a deep level. The scene that I still think about months later is the one in which he finally gives up his belief in the afterlife and accepts the finality of death by saying goodbye to everyone he ever loved who has died with the words “I love you, but I’m never going to see you again.”

I was not a huge fan of the writing style at first, but this one won me over totally and completely. It touched me immensely at the time when I needed it most.

Comics - Fiction

I read 52 fictional comics this year and 46 nonfiction. I absolutely raided my library’s graphic novel section for months. It was a good time.

Beautiful Darkness

A French graphic novel wherein tiny people survive and feud over the corpse of the child they came from. It’s...hard to explain. Kind of a fairy tale Lord of the Flies, but more subtly horrifying. It’s a story about decay and collapse - of society, of the physical form, of the dreams of a child. It has no single interpretation and different people may take something very different from it. The most inventive horror story I read this year.

My Brother’s Husband

A story about microaggressions and how their buildup over time can drive a wedge between people without them even noticing. I cried. Go read it.

Mis(h)adra

A semi autobiographical account of a college student learning how to live with his epilepsy. I also cried over this one. 

The art is stunning, the metaphors are amazing (the main character’s epilepsy is visually portrayed as a set of ghostly knives that follow him around) and the ending is extremely affecting if you’ve ever dealt with any kind of chronic illness. 

Demon Slayer: Kimetsu no Yaiba

The absolute most fun I had reading a comic this year. Gets extremely dark and incredibly sad but never feels overwhelmingly heavy, thanks to its great sense of humor. 

Edward Scissorhands: Parts Unknown + Whole Again

A series of adventures set decades after the movie, after Kim’s death, in a time when her granddaughter begins wondering if the stories about the castle on the hill are true. 

It deals with such issues as the difficulties Kim had with her daughter growing up, when all she would do is tell stories about Edward rather than give her the emotional support she needed, whether removing the thing that both makes you unique and brings pain is worth it and how to stop angry villagers from burning down your house (again). 

Also, seeing Edward be surrounded by a group of friends who care about him was extremely healing.

Comics - Nonfiction

My Solo Exchange Diary vol 1-2

A series of updates about the author’s continuing battle with mental illness and about how recovery is anything but a straight line. 

Can’t We Talk About Something More Pleasant?

Finally, some light reading!

It’s a memoir about the decline and death of the author’s aging parents. 

I found it...extremely comforting. Extreme old age, whether in one’s self or in one’s loved ones, is a scary and often obscured prospect, despite being a near-universal human experience. This book took the mystery out of aging and the fear out of taking care of aging parents. I’ve seen it done now. I’m more ready to do it myself.

The Best We Could Do

A memoir of the author’s family’s flight from Vietnam and their immigration to America, through the lens of the birth of the author’s first child. About how being a refugee changes a person in small, often unexpected ways, how trauma leaves its mark on families - and how, knowing all this, one can still keep living and raising the next generation.

Film - Fiction

I caught up on a lot of classics I’d not seen before and really got into Jidaigeki this year. Me putting only four of them on the list is a show of restraint. Of the 64 films I watched this year...

The Fall of the House of Usher 

Impeccable costume and psychedelic set design. The unanswered question that bounces throughout the entire movie: is it the curse or is it the fault of human belief in the curse?

Patch your walls, dude.

A Monster With a Thousand Heads 

A Mexican thriller about a woman whose husband is denied cancer treatment for seemingly no reason. The doctor gives her the runaround. No one can answer her questions. No one listens to her.

So, naturally, she and her teenage son spend a night kidnapping and holding at gunpoint every person she needs to get her husband’s cancer treatment approved. Wild and intense and timely.

Dr. Strangelove or How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb

I watched a couple of Kubrick movies I hadn’t seen before and of them...I died laughing at this one. The tight plotting! The inevitable buildup to disaster over something so insanely stupid! 

I did not live during the Cold War, but damn do I feel for the inherent ridiculousness of it now.

Seven Samurai

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAFGFTRTRNHUKIJUHNJNHHHHHHHHHHHHYHYHYHYHYHYHYHYHYXCVVGGERDSSSSSSSSSSSSS!!!

...this movie is insanely good. I watched Citizen Kane this year. This movie’s better. 

It has a plot which can be described in its totality, in a single sentence - a group of samurai are hired to defend a village from bandits - but what they do with that premise is so much more than that. 

This movie is three hours long. It did not lag once. 

Hara Kiri

As the Tokugawas secure their grip on all of Japan, war ceases. Great houses are dissolved and their retainers, cast into the streets. The relevance of the samurai is ending and the cities are awash in starving ronin. 

Once, one of these starving ronin approached a great house, asking if he might be able to end his life honorably, in front of witnesses there. So impressed was the lord with this ronin’s resolve, that he instead hired him on as one of his retainers. 

Hearing this story, other ronin, having no intention of actually offing themselves, tried the same trick in the hopes of securing a job, or at the very least, a little something to eat. 

It became a common scam which, in the end, fooled no one. Most houses gave the ronin a handful of cash and sent them on their way. 

But one house, seeking to preserve their warlike spirit in these peaceful times, chooses to treat one beggar ronin very differently. 

This is the story of vengeance taken for that death.

Yojimbo

A ronin enters a town that is being torn apart by gang warfare and decides to play both sides in order to end the conflict. It contains such comedic gems as:

 - the ronin suddenly deciding not to take part in a street battle, leaving both sides evenly matched and extremely nervous about fighting each other, while he watches it all from the top of a watchtower, laughing his ass off

 - the ronin is critically injured and being smuggled out of town in a coffin. A fight breaks out while this is happening and scares away one of the people carrying the coffin. A less intelligent goon of the gang he just escaped from is cheerfully recruited to carry the coffin the rest of the way

 - standing up in the coffin, declaring that he’s fine and immediately fainting

Also, you should totally bring a knife to a gun fight. 

Ran

A jidaigeki reimagining of King Lear. 

A visually astounding, sweeping epic with amazing acting and a complex interplay of conflicting passions which might just be more bleak than the original play. 

The scene in which the main character goes mad and is cast out into the wilderness is especially haunting.

Jojo Rabbit

I don’t think I’ve EVER experienced such violent mood whiplash in a movie before. One moment you’re crying-laughing from a joke that hit with absolute perfection and the next you’re...actually crying. In the same scene. Within thirty seconds. Multiple times. It is the oddest feeling to be so elated by the best joke in the entire movie while every character we’ve come to know across the course of the movie is in the process of dying violently. It’s not a feeling everyone’s going to like, but for me it was completely new and fantastic. 

The best part of the movie is the main character’s relationship with Imaginary Friend Hitler. He’s wildly funny and relentlessly charming. I got excited every time he appeared in a scene and was, oddest of all, actually comforted by his presence. 

He was all of these things until, in the most terrifying scene in the movie, he was not.

This movie shows you the mechanisms through which fascism becomes an appealing idea for a lonely child by putting the audience through a version of the same process. It’s so clever, so funny and so sad. 

What do you do when your world is destroyed by absurdity and there is nothing left for you to return to?

You dance in the streets.

TV Series

Good Omens 

Wildly hilarious comedy, fantastic costume design, multiple androgynous characters for which NO ONE bats an eye and honestly?? the best queer love story I’ve ever seen in television or film. 

The Dark Crystal: Age of Resistance

I am not sure if I have ever seen a production with so much love poured into it. The dozens of painstakingly crafted sets and characters, the sheer level of artistry on display - the next thing I saw was always more amazing than the thing I’d seen before it and the amazingness just kept coming with no end in sight throughout the entirety of the show.

And the story itself! The way it deepened and played with the lore of the original movie in the most perfect and unexpected ways! It felt like I was watching the most fantastic and labor intensive piece of fanfiction ever conceived, that was written by a person with a deep passion for and knowledge of the source material. 

Speaking of fantastic throwbacks...

Dororo

I’ve said a lot about this one already. While it ultimately fell kind of flat, what it did get right was phenomenal. The motherfucking FIGHT SCENES! The love between bros! The fascinating reconception of Hyakkimaru’s powers and its emphasis on a disabled character actually being portrayed as disabled! The journey of good characters going down the path of evil with good intentions!

Mwah!

Primal eps 1-5

Genndy Tartakovsky’s next big project after the completion of Samurai Jack! 

It is gory. Like, extremely gory. Do you know how much gore a thing has to have before I consider it ‘extremely gory?’ It’s a lot. Like...really a lot. There’s a thirty second (or possibly longer. time lost all meaning as I watched it) sequence in which the main character punches the intestines out of a horde of hominids in loving, exacting detail. It’s like Genndy’s letting out all the pent-up gore he was forced to keep in check during the years when he was working on Samurai Jack. 

But it isn’t just gore. It’s a journey about the main character’s grief over the sudden, horrific, unexpected death of his entire family. A story which is also mirrored by that of the dinosaur he joins forces with. There were parts during it in which I literally felt my heart being torn in two over the travails of these two, as well as wildly funny and completely adorable parts.

The settings, creature design and fight choreography are insanely creative, as is the decision to do it with no dialogue whatsoever.

And that cliffhanger, DAMN!! They’d better get the next five episodes out soon!

Honorable Mention:

Rick and Morty S4 eps 1-5

This one doesn’t entirely make the list proper because the latter two episodes...were rather subpar. But I can’t entirely keep it off the list because the quality of the first three episodes was off the charts. A particular shoutout to ‘The Old Man and the Seat’ and ‘One Crew Over the Crewcoo’s Morty’ - the former, which somehow managed to use toilet humor, of all things, to reach a crushingly tragic conclusion and the latter, which has a twist better than that of some of my favorite horror movies. 

Games

Shogun 2

I didn’t do a whole lot of gaming at all this year. But what I did do is have a fantastic time getting into the Total War franchise. Shogun 2 was my entry point and a FANTASTIC game. The ninja animations! The tiny, exacting animations of every single person running around on a sinking ship! The way Realm Divide changes the game into something much more dangerous and the way I learned to dance on the edge of it until I was good and ready! 

Plays

Love’s Labours Lost

One of two Shakespeare plays I saw this year, the other being The Tempest - which was also excellent (especially the part where it legit started raining when Ariel summoned the storm in the first scene and then that showing had to be cancelled. The second time was the charm). 

Love’s Labours Lost had some excellent comedy and the usual absurd web of misunderstandings you’d expect to find in your standard Shakespeare romcom. But the thing which pushed it over the edge for me was that...it had a sad ending. It goes against the definition of comedy and has a sad ending. Because it was so unexpected, it hit unexpectedly hard and made it that much more memorable.

#jojo rabbit #akira kurosawa #rick and morty #the dark crystal: age of resistance #good omens #primal #a thought #long post

[mx-jinxous]

coldflashwave high school au barry gets stuck rooming w mick and len on a school trip (while he’s the little nerd w a giant crush) and mick and len are begrudgingly endeared

Barry was the black sheep of the sophomore class, let alone the student government. He wasn’t much of an output, in fact, he was only on it to help Iris with her journalism class…that and because of the Vice President and Treasure. Barry was the Secretary/male sophomore representative. Of course, Barry was the no one's choice, so the chaperone stuck Barry in a random room with a couple another student. So here Barry was, standing in front of the hotel room door, tongue brushing over his braces. He knocked on the door lightly, hand returning to adjust his glasses. He waited a couple seconds before the door opened, standing there was the Treasurer, Mick Rory, looking annoyed.

“What kid?” He grumbled, leaning against the doorway. Barry looked down at the ground, swallowing as he spoke up.

“The teacher put me in this room.”

“Seriously, they should have had this all figured out before the trip.”

“My…my roommate got sick and didn’t come. The teacher said I could either share a room with someone else or with him…I’d rather not.”

“Alright, don’t mind gay people right?” Barry shook his head, still looking at the floor.

“Fine, just be quiet.” Barry nodded, following Mick as he walked in, shutting and latching the door. “You can take the free bed,” Mick whispered, climbing into the other, sliding up against the Vice President, Leonard Snart. Barry watched him wrap his arms around the younger, the two moving to get comfortable.

Sitting his bag on the bed Barry grabbed a change of clothes and his toothbrush, letting his mind wander as he got ready for bed. When he finally laid down he turned to face the wall, letting his heavy eyes fall.

When he woke up the next morning it was to a chuckle, Barry turning over in his half sleeping state. “Shuu~. You’re going to wake the kid.” He heard Mick say, Barry, cracking his eyes. He saw Mick attacking Len’s neck, the younger chuckling as he did so.

“Can’t help it,” Len whispered, Barry, turning over in the bed, back to facing the wall. “Maybe we should hold off.”

“Just because we have another roommate isn’t going to change what we had planned.”

“But we can wait till he’s gone. In fact, we should probably wake him for breakfast.”

“You’re killing me, Lenny,” Mick whispered, kissing his boyfriend. “Fine, I call dibs on the shower.” Barry heard shuffling, it was quiet for a moment before Barry’s arm was shaken, bringing him to full alertness.

“Hey, get up. Let’s get breakfast.” The man said, Barry, groaning as he turned to see the VP, smiling down at Barry. “Barry right?”

“Yah,” Barry said, sitting up.

“Cool, let’s grab breakfast and bring it back up, Mick’s going to hog all the water.” Len smiled, Barry about to reply when there was a knock on the door. “Expecting someone?”

“Nuh uh,” Barry said, Len, getting up from the bed, walking over to the door. Looking through the peephole Len pulled away, looking back at Barry.

“It’s the Journalist girl, Iris.” Barry shot up, climbing out of the bed, only to get his legs tangled up in the bed sheets.

Barry hit the ground with a loud, embarrassing thump. Len jumped, turning to Barry on the ground, staying in the same spot, shocked. Barry stared up from the ground, going red as he rushed to his feet. “Are you…okay?” Len asked, another knock on the door. Nodding Barry hurried out to the room, running right into Iris, grabbing her hand. He drugs her down the hall without a word, Len watching until he disappeared down the hall.

“Mick, it’s just us!” Len said, shutting the door as he walked towards the bathroom. Opening the door he was greeted with a steamy bathroom, Mick pulling back the curtain.

“Kid take off?” He asked as Len leaned against the bathroom sink.

“He just ate the rug, then ran off with the journalist girl.”

“Well…room to ourselves,” Mick smirked, Len, smiling back and removing his clothes, throwing them admits the floor with Mick’s. The older of the two pulled him into the shower, pressing Len up against the wall beneath the shower head.

“I like that…though he’s kind of cute.” He mumbled as Len busied his lips with Mick’s.

“So how’d you get stuck with them?”

“The teacher gave me an ultimatum, share a room with him or them.”

“So you get stuck with your two biggest crushes, wooo~.” Barry playfully smacked Iris on the shoulder, a blush spreading across his face.

“Please, they’re committed to each other, I just ended up being an unintended third wheel.”

“How couldn’t they like this adorable face.” Barry smiled as Iris pinched his cheek. “Especially with adorable braces.” She said, making Barry laugh.

“I just wish I could share a room with you, it’s stupid they don’t count you as my sister.”

“At least you didn’t get stuck with Tony.”

“God, I’d have new bruises and Joe would never let me go on another trip.”

“But you’re like friends now right?”

“Please, I have hardly said anything to them,” Barry said, blushing as he stared down at the ground, immediately noticing the lack of his student badge. “Shoot, I’ve gotta go grab my badge, wait by the elevators for me.” Barry turned, running down the hall before Iris could respond, Barry hoping to sneak back in while they were clothed or in the shower. Reaching the door Barry was looking for his room key, hearing laughter down the hall from other students, a small smile on his face. It dropped as soon as he heard his name from down the hall, the teen looking to see his bully, Tony, walking down the hall toward. In a hast Barry dropped his key, leaning down to pick up his key. He managed to open the door and slam it shut, latching it as Tony beat of the door, calling him names through the door. Barry ran to the corner of his bed, hiding behind it as the door vibrates from the powerful banging. Len and Mick ran out of the bathroom, towels wrapped around their waist as they look at the door, Mick walking to the door.

“Don’t open it please,” Barry said from behind the bed, curled up. Len stopped Mick, pulling him toward Barry. Len kneeled while Mick remained standing, Barry looking down at his feet.

“Are you alright?” Len asked, placing a hand on his knee.

“I’m fine, but don’t open the door,” Barry said, Mick, turning to face the still vibrating door.

“This guy picking on you?” Mick asked, grabbing his pajama pants from the bathroom. Dropping the towel Mick slid them on, Barry catching a decent sight of Mick’s backside. Blushing Barry looked at Len, a hand weaving through his hair.

“You’re shaking Scarlet.”

“Tony likes to hit me,” Barry mumbled, Mick, heading towards the door. Barry curled up, hiding against Len. Once the door opened Mick glared at him, Tony standing firm.

“Saw him duck in here.”

“How about you fuck off before the faculty isn’t your own problem.”

“What are you going to do?”

“Make you taste your own ass.”

“Please, I’ve heard scarier threats from a girl.”

“Then how about I make true on my promise.” Tony turned, hearing a shrilled voice beside him. Turning he was with a fist in his face, Mick jumping at the sight of Iris punching Tony in the nose, hearing it crack.

“Damn.” He mumbled, Iris, shaking her fist.

“Hey, Barry here?” She asked, Len, looking over.

“Girlfriend?” He asked.

“Sister,” Barry said as Iris walked in.

“You alright Bare?” She asked, taking in the sight of Len inches away from Barry,.hand in his hair.

“Yeah, just need a few minutes. Meet you downstairs?”

“Yah.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll take him down,” Len said, Iris, winking at Barry.

“See you down there, I’ll snag us a table,” Iris said, letting herself out, Mick chuckling.

“I like her.” He turned to Barry, the younger red. “You sure you’re okay Red?”

“Yeah.” Barry blushed, looking down.

“Lenny’s right, you’re kind of cute.”

“Mick,” Len said, Barry hiding his smile. “Let's get dressed, I’m hungry.”

“Alright, if the Doll can wait.”

“I can do that,” Barry said, looking up to see Len standing. “I can so do that,” Barry smirked, watching as Len grabbed his clothes from his bag. Maybe this trip wasn’t going to be bad.

[destroyyourbinder]

the girls not like other girls / coming home

One thing a lot of detransitioned and reconciling women have noted is that the only female-centric space they were permitted to have or felt comfortable in was a trans-specific one (i.e. a support group for transmasculine people) and I think this is extremely important to note, whether you are a female person who is trans-identified or an outsider to this whole experience.

As a child, I felt extremely alienated from straight-girl spaces and girl-socializing, even though I had no understanding of myself as a gay kid or as being attracted to women (even though I can see that I was attracted to other girls in retrospect) or even as particularly gender non-conforming. I figured I was "not like other girls", but I had only a crude understanding of this. I was not allowed to express my non-conformity through my appearance-- my mother forced me to wear my hair long and to wear typical girl's clothes, and I was only allowed a certain amount of token resistance before relatively severe abuse kicked in-- so I had little to appeal to in my young brain to explain why I was ostracized from girl groups or why I felt an affinity for boys or fellow strange girls.

I can see now as an adult that there was quite a lot at play: I was awkward and weird in general and had trouble making friends with kids for many reasons, especially with socially astute children who were beginning to learn about and focus on social hierarchy. I found socializing overstimulating and scary in general, and did not want to socialize in a way that involved testing social boundaries and exchanging social information, although I did enjoy the company of my friends. I preferred socializing alongside other children while we had a shared goal, like playing a game of some sort or building a structure. Because a lot of toys and activities intended to inculcate femininity in girl-children are intended to facilitate the former kind of socializing-- such as a jewelry game where girls display how well they can dress themselves according to status-rules and monitor each other's standing, or a kitchen playset where girls are intended to mimic not just making meals but making meals for family members-- I had very little interest in activities designated for girls. I also had a complicated relationship to boy children, where I often thought they were full of shit, boring, and little assholes, but since they were the only ones engaged in things I wanted to do (like jump off the swings) I had to interact with them. I sought out their company and input because even at a very young age I knew male attention and opinions were considered more legitimate, and I figured I could maybe be taken seriously if I spent time with the people who were, well, taken seriously. Maybe they would even approve of me, maybe I could even be better than them. Boy children have intense social structures as well, and they are complicated in their own right; I think some women who prefer or once preferred the company of boys/men like to say their socializing is "simpler" or "easier" or "without drama", but I don't actually think this is true. I think it's easy to forget when socializing with boys or men as a female person that you are not considered the same sort of being as them, and so the fact that it may be easier to interact with boys or men is not a property of men or male socializing in general, but the fact that you are only interacting with a truncated form of their socializing, since you are "only" a girl or woman interfacing with the male world. What I found to be true is that it was sometimes simpler as a female child to interact with boys given that you have no real social position with them-- you have avoided the hierarchy simply by not having the standing to enter one. Boys do not really know how to treat you if you are not readily submitting to a girl role and not easily sexualizable; you sort of fall between the cracks, which can be preferable to being the shittiest girl in a group of girls. I found I was not really at the "bottom" (boys never took me seriously enough to even consider me a true failure) but I could never enter their social structure no matter how hard I tried to play by their rules. I tried to make it clear I had standing with boys through competing with them and trying to outperform them at their own games. Prior to puberty, I tried to compete with boys physically, whether it was by playing bloody knuckles, doing backflips off of the playground equipment, holding races, or doing one-armed pullups. When this no longer worked, I switched primarily to competing with boys and men in intellectual domains, and invested a lot of my self-worth in how good I was compared to boys and men in traditionally male intellectual pursuits like math or logical reasoning, or by competing with the men interested in less masculine areas (but who were still considered the most serious and worthy contenders) like fine arts or writing. I maintained this mentality until I was in my early twenties. I can't say it was a good look.

While I did have some female friends as a child and adolescent, I found it very hard to maintain these friendships, even with other weird girls. There is something inherently anti-supportive and destructive about a friendship with another girl based on how much not-like-the-other-girls you are. I found myself insecure and paranoid that my weird girl friends thought I was too "normal" or too "preppy" or too "girly" for them, that the criticisms and frustrations and vitriol they leveled at girls who ostracized them or who tried to coerce them into femininity work they didn't want to do or who simply made them feel bad were also things that applied to me. I found myself frustrated, too, at my friends for "betraying me" by buying into things or behaving in ways that escalated my insecurity that I was somehow actually, truly inferior for being a girl, and one who couldn't even girl right at that. We were all caught in a bind where we believed both that girls were stupid, but also that we were freaks for personally resisting what we thought was stupid about girls. I can now recognize this as the classic psychology of oppressed people, born of continual abuse by hierarchical superiors and horizontal hostility between people frantically attempting to avoid this abuse and make sense of their situation in a way that allows them to survive it without summoning punishment for resistance. Grooming girls, particularly those prone to be resistant to patriarchy, into this psychology is convenient: it prevents them from recognizing what is really going on and from having solidarity with and compassion for each other. Instead of fighting who was hurting us, we were occupied with fighting each other over who was too obsessed with boys and who was trying too hard to be cool. The trick about this thinking was this: it wasn't that Christina *wasn't* too obsessed with boys. She was, and it was hurting her directly, as well as damaging her long-term development into a woman with a strong sense of dignity and personal agency, and it meant she was willing to damage her friendships for the sake of a dipshit who would dump her in two weeks. We just took the situation as a personal affront to our insecurities about it being proved Cosmically True that girls were stupid sluts, rather than digging deep and giving a shit about Christina and putting the blame where it belonged: the teenage boy four years older than her. Ironically, the straight girly-types were in some ways more successful in resisting patriarchal pressures than we were: at least they had each others’ backs when they complained about boys with each other, at least they were able to share strategies for mitigating the worst of the misogyny they faced. We were left in the cold.

Bizarrely, when I started interacting with other female people who were basically the same Weird Girls, but who didn't call themselves such, those who framed their issues as a gender identity or gender dysphoria problem rather than in the misogynistic way I had framed it in my childhood, I got along much better with them and felt much more understood. It was partially this feeling, that of finally understanding other female people, not being severely ostracized, and having the relief of not being so paranoid of other female people that I was alienating them pre-emptively, that convinced me that my experiences were transgender experiences rather than "just" “regular girl” experiences. Because misogyny had been removed from the table almost entirely-- both in the sense that we were all female people together and that we were not framing all of our experiences, including with other female people, through a lens of potential sexist violations of our humanity-- I felt like I could relax for once in my life. I was no longer obsessive about policing myself and the female people around me. With no male people around, and no longer worried about whether my feelings and reactions had anything to do with my inherent inferiority or not, I was no longer afraid of what my interactions with others indicated about who I really was. Of course, if you stay in transgender community long enough, a lot of these anxieties will resurface in your thoughts and in social hierarchy. Who hasn't seen a literal dick-measuring contest on an FTM message board or trans men accusing other trans men of being "trenders"? But by then, you are no longer permitted to name what's going on, nor have an inkling of where it comes from. Because being transgender has nothing to do with sexism, it's just a medical condition. Or an identity. And men aren’t catty, they don't do that sort of social thing anyway... right?

Sometimes this is what I think people mean when they say discovering they are transgender is like "coming home". It's like taking your shoes off or sliding into bed. It's relief, a relaxation of something painful, annoying, constricting. But turns out I never knew a comfortable home, so I was easily able to feel at home in a home where I was afraid, confused, and never quite clear what was going on. Was I a trender or was the guy shouting about trenders a trender? Did I really belong with these other female people or was I a faker, a poser, a loser here, too? Did I have to believe that misandry was real and defend cis men's behavior to protect myself, or did I have to flagellate myself for having the "privilege" of failing to be feminine enough?

Sound familiar yet?

When detransitioned and reconciling women discuss how having relationships with other women is healing, this is a large part of what they mean. They mean both the good relationships-- healing, genuinely supportive female friendships-- and finally getting a radically honest perspective on bad relationships, too. I had to pop out of understanding myself as "not a girl" or "not a woman" to even acknowledge that I was having classic girl-girl, woman-woman, female-female dynamics in my relationships, nonetheless see how this dynamic played a role in my disidentification and general life course. I could not see that I held responsibility for how I behaved in these relationships, nor have compassion for both other women and myself, until I was able to first see that I was not a separate type of being from the girls for whom I once held contempt. I don't think disidentified and/or trans-identified female people are much different from female people who recognize themselves as women for this reason: female people who call themselves such still separate themselves into "bad women" and "good women", women who get into trouble and women who don't, women who sacrifice their own selfhood and the women who hold onto something. There are whores and madonnas, but also there's prudes and girls who actually put out; wives who take care of their husbands and wives who need to shape up and the wives who need a life; the boy crazy girls or the sad old cougars, the women who settled down, and independent women who have some self-respect; there's women who know how to do their face and hair, and women who don't take care of themselves, but there's the women who try too hard and they look like clowns, you know.

I catch myself doing this, even still, but I know we're all doing it, and I know why. I know I'm not not-a-woman for being insecure about how much femininity I've internalized-- that's universal-- I'm just one of the women who erred on the side of judging myself for giving up my self rather than judging myself most harshly for whether or not I stayed out of trouble.

#writings

[therebelwrites]

I’m callin BULLSHIT on Both Kanye AND Janelle Monae!

Still hangin on to sunken place redemption, I wrote a post a few years ago about Kanye West, stating:

“Yes, it is his choice whom he chooses to marry, but as I stated in an earlier post, to whom much is given, much is expected. The Black community NEEDS his voice, youth and immense influence to help us move our mindframes to the next level. He rose to fame using his intellect and his will to be a positive example to Black youth. How in the WORLD is he now worse off morally, despite the fact that he has millions of dollars? I find it no coincidence at all that, since his marriage, he has since been silenced; the Kanye West known for standing up against injustice and saying what needed to be said is now a mere shadow of his former self. He has essentially become a pawn in a game of freakshow antics. Pitiful.

“BUT given my insanely optimistic nature, I have to keep hope alive. Either Kanye will self-resurrect from the dead soon, or his legacy will be obscured, buried under peanuts…and Botox.

“(In which case he’ll be forgotten and replaced.)”

Unfortunately, the latter part of my prediction came to fruition. Kanye has been so neutralized by the white supremacist system that he may be one of gangrenous digits that we gotta REMOVE COMPLETELY, lest it poisons other parts of our collective Black body and psyche. His blood (line) has stagnated, and, not only is he no longer of VALUE to the Black community or Black liberation struggle, but he has officially become a LIABILITY.

STOP buyin his shit. STOP listening to his nonsensical statements. (What good are his beats if his WORDS and SOUL are soiled???) Let the white supremacist system that he has been brainwashed into aligning with have him. This aint no child left behind and we got too much work to do to try to fix people who were BORN woke and then CHOSE to resume their slumber!

Ironically, I already know what’s gonna happen based on how white supremacy works. Once Blacks have established that Kanye is no longer an influencer in our community, the white supremacist system will discard him, too, because they will no longer have USE for a Black man with no POWER--to build, destroy or otherwise. Having been rejected by both his community, and denied the white approval that he so desperately seeks, those will, perhaps, be among the DARKEST days of Mr. West’s life. Bet on it.

(To the people who BEEN said that Kanye was irreparably damaged, spare me. I’m a Black, female, optimist, which means that I wanted to do everything that I could to SAVE my offspring before cutting ties. But sometimes in life you just gotta let go!)

Which brings us to our next celebrity....

Not rockin with Janelle Monae right now, either. In all our talk about Black male celebrities whose souls and BLACKNESS have been compromised, it is easy for us to forget that, although it doesn’t happen often, Black FEMALES get caught up in the white supremacist entertainment system, too!

Before you start screaming, “Female sexual liberation!”, ask yourself why it is that you needed to know about her sexuality? Why is it that Janelle felt the NEED to make such proclamation to the world, given that her music has already been well-established as revolutionary??? Knowing that there are no such things as coincidences, ask yourself, “Why is she saying this NOW??” Surely a woman who has built a career from the bottom on the foundation of liberation was not secretly scared of her own sexuality???

What’s with the obsession over celebrity sexuality anyway? Where does it stem from??

WHITE SUPREMACY.

Sexuality is used by the system as a DISTRACTION, period. (I’ve already explained this in my posts, “The Perversion of Sex and the Spiritual Cause of Impotence” and “The Perversion of Sex, Continued.” Having calcified pineal glands, most white people can never attain the level of spirituality inherent to Blacks, so they dwell in and exploit the lower chakras.

Predictably, they also impose the same behaviors onto the rest of the world.

At a time where Black people around the globe are WAKING up and STANDING up, Janelle picks this precise moment stake her sexuality claim?? Why???

I just KNEW the energy was off after I watched her latest videos. I’ve always been a huge fan of hers, but for reasons that I could not explain then but I now know, something just felt *off* about her whole demeanor. Not only was “Make Me Feel” the opposite of innovative, but it screamed, “produced though the lens of and for the bene-tainment (yeah, I just made that up, LMAO!) OF gay, white males.” She didn’t even appear to be genuinely having fun, more so just doing what she was told and trying to portray a certain image. Her eyes emanated her discomfort and uncertainty.

Janelle Monae sacrificed a part of her very SOUL to appeal to 15-year-old sexually ambiguous suburban kids, and I FELT it. That shit was demonic, and I’m can’t be persuaded otherwise.

Don’t take my word for it. Just ask yourself why her team felt the need put out “Django Jane” literally immediately afterwards?? They didn’t wanna lose fans (like me) who were accustomed to the ORIGINAL Janelle Monae and turned off by the foolishness.

Don’t be suckered into thinking it’s simply her artistic “evolution”-- evolution don’t run BACKWARDS! How can a person who claims to be so pro-Black disseminate such bubblegum bullshit about being “pansexual??” Individuals who TRULY transcend societal, sexual boxes and constraints don’t use labels at all; they allow OUTSIDERS to put words to their own natural inclinations and essence!! Which means that her decision to ANNOUNCE her sexuality reveals the subconscious TRUTH that she is NOT TRULY “PANSEXUAL!!!”

Janelle’s announcement was a BUSINESS move, orchestrated by the gay, male, white supremacist, Jewish-run entertainment industry to simultaneously ENRICH her, their pockets and WEAKEN the Black communal unit and struggle for liberation. (Black women - men = no Black babies and stagnant Black birth rate. At this point, this should be obvious.)

Janelle’s psyche was PAWNED, her image moved into CHECK.

But the game aint over yet!!!

BLACK PEOPLE: WE MUST CEASE ALIGNING OURSELVES WITH CELEBRITIES!

#There's still HOPE for Janelle Monae #She has not yet been MATED #Neither has the Black community #So goes the game of chess and the WAR for BLACK LIBERATION #Black celebrities #Kanye is GONE #so many sexuality distractions from SPIRITUAL evolution in the U.S. #white supremacy #the perversion of and obsession with SEX #ridding ourselves of European concepts #Black birth rate manipulation

[some-triangles]

PART 1

What’s this?  A sister and her brother?

What’s this? A woman by herself?

What’s this?  The remains of the cock tower, bobbited, stuffed and mounted just beneath a rose, which has been nailed to a wall and is oozing architectural elements?

It can only mean one thing:

I’m a fountain of blood, in the shape of a girl

Yes, we’re doing this!

I should mention that we are doing this through a very specific lens, courtesy of tumblr user @snarp.   The idea is: after leaving the academy, a jail with walls made of stories, Anthy would have had to come up with a way of reckoning with her own past which did not rely on those same stories for its structure.   The Utena movie is her first attempt at retelling her own narrative in a way which is not completely overshadowed by her older brother.   The more one looks for supporting evidence for this interpretation, the more one can find; so instead of focusing on whether this is a correct way of reading (a boring and ultimately fruitless question), let’s instead ask if this reading allows the movie to be good, which, by any number of more conventional metrics, it isn’t.

It makes sense right from the off, though.  The first two images we see in this movie (beyond the carillon of school’s-out bells) are Anthy and Akio together and Anthy sans Akio, as if to say: we are removing this guy from the narrative, and good riddance.   Then the opening credits consist of a montage of frustratingly tiny paintings:

Paintings which, we learn later, are Anthy’s work.  They appear, they confuse, and they disappear in a flash of fire; so we are led to understand that the coming narrative will be obscure, mercurial, and, most importantly, the product of a single perspective, that of our heroine. Who is in this film definitely Anthy, and not Utena.

Speaking of Utena – who is she in this iteration?

Well, she’s wearing a boy’s uniform, finally.  It’s a striking one, as well – a kind of monochrome fool’s motley, which is a tough look to pull off by anyone’s standards, but she manages it.  The duality of the black and white in her outfit represents her status in re the are you a boy or a girl situation: she is clearly being presented as the Two-Face of gender expression.   She’s also immediately very gay.

An immediate priority of the camera here (which we are going to persist in interpreting as Anthy’s camera, even if it kills us) is the demystification of sex. Utena and Wakaba are allowed to be flirty with each other without scandal or misunderstanding or censor roses or anything.  Hidden desire and the sublimation thereof were the engine that powered the old academy system.  They’re the first things up against the wall, so to speak, now that the revolution’s come.

We still have shadow puppet girls, though.  Can’t shift ‘em.  They’re like roaches.

The camera angle here suggests that we are watching invisibly from a position just to the left of F-ko’s ear.   It’s gonna take a second for Anthy to really get the hang of this artsy framing thing.

Utena and Wakaba stroll among the exploded architecture (a literal deconstruction of the old academy, ha ha ha) and meet the cast. Miki and Juri are largely as before, although Juri’s looking slightly more cheerful about things as she holds court from her throne, framed by busted Mondrians in stained glass. 

This may be because she’s absorbed a fair piece of Utena’s archetype, so Utena can be less initially invested in the whole cockamamie prince system. Wakaba suggests that Juri might be Utena’s rival – implicitly, as the other Big Gay On Campus.  This is about as important as Wakaba gets.  Rivals for Utena’s attention tend to get short shrift in this particular narrative - why would that be, one wonders?  Speaking of which:

Sweet mary crackers, it’s Movie Touga.

Utena chases him and catches up at the rose garden (no longer a birdcage, no longer under glass). They’ve apparently known each other for some time. Utena warns him that she didn’t come to the academy to pursue him – she’s not the same person she used to be (i.e., kinda into girls now.)

The camera pans back to reveal another of Anthy’s works, this one depicting a boat sinking while a distant prince looks on in horror.   Anthy is manipulating the master narrative that Juri told the student council during the final duel, back in the real world; the one about the boy who drowned trying to save a girl and was forgotten.  In the real world, the drowned boy turned out to be Utena.  To get our happy ending, we’re going to have to shift things around a little.

Notably, Utena doesn’t recognize the ring he’s wearing.  She has a prince thing – she decided, after she and Touga “broke up”, to live her life by higher ideals – but it’s not a Prince Thing.   She has no connection to Akio.   Nobody gave her a rose seal – until now, that is.

Touga vanishes.  The rain stops.  The walls retreat in a rush.

Dream logic brings Utena’s attention to a single white rose, which unfurls before her eyes petal by petal and deposits a glowing pearl in her hand, which turns out to be one of these.

Regarding this sequence: it is important to point out that while the TV series liked to dabble in phallic imagery, we are going to have to dust off the word “yonic” for the movie.  Funny that my spellchecker recognizes one and not the other.

We’re not done yet. As the ring nestles in her palm, a breeze picks up, carrying with it both the sound of bongos and a thick shower of crimson petals, which are swirling down from a suspended platform above. The platform makes the following shape in the sky:

Yonic.

Utena goes up to investigate.  It turns out the highest place in this academy isn’t a tower, it’s a rose garden [YONIC]; the architecturally dubious remains of the entrance gate tell us that it’s also the dueling arena, and thus the perfect place to meet our heroine.

 Movie Anthy wears her hair long.  Movie Anthy never wore glasses.   Movie Anthy makes the first move. Movie Anthy flirts.  Also, perhaps most crucially, Movie Anthy does not withhold information.  

Movie Anthy is immediately all up in Utena’s business, and summons an anime breeze so that they can flap their hair at each other in a shower of rose petals. Then she sees the ring, and bang, no more breeze.  Just like it was raining for the exact duration of Utena's conversation with Touga earlier on.   Oh, is Anthy not the central figure of this story, the lens through which all of this is being observed?  It’s not like her moods control the weather or anything

Appalled at the idea that this ultra-hot bab might be on the verge of dueling inveiglement, Anthy grabs Utena’s wrist and tries to wrestle the ring away from her.  Utena flips the coin on her gender expression and it comes up dudes.

Then a cruel parody of Saionji shows up.

Woof.

The old academy and the new academy pretty much agree about this part of the story, except whatever lingering elements of dignity or relatability Saionji may once have had are now gone.  He’s just a maniac with a sword, which makes sense, if Anthy’s telling the story. 

Everything proceeds as expected til

Whoops, the bride has agency! 

Woah, the bride has…agency

Full transformation ensues. The bride kisses Utena square on the lips, explodes into full regalia and produces her sword.  Utena draws it, which tips her gender expression slightly further into true equilibrium, reuniting her with her fabled hot pants and epaulets combo and, most significantly, causing her to bust out in an all-time classic Princely Goop Mullet.

There is no excuse for this.

Saionji gets wrecked, immediately, and we’re out. 

(Apologies for the lack of a borgesian dyad for this duel – the files I have don’t sub the chorale lyrics.   Folks who have the full release should feel free to send in screenshots of worthy candidates.)

The first duel ends about twenty minutes into the movie’s runtime, which is handy.  The rhythms of the old pattern are not so easily shaken.   Maybe we’ll get a more thorough departure...

next time

#utena #utena liveblog #heeere we go #the background art and environment design in this thing is unimpeachable imo #so many lovely frames #shame about the character design #what is going on with their hands

[irena-tischenko]

Endless Self-Similarity

We shall make it clear that what is anomaly and disorder from one point of view is nevertheless a necessary element of a vaster order, and an inevitable consequence of the laws governing the development of all manifestation. Let it be said at once however that this is no reason to submit passively to the disorder and obscurity that seem to be triumphing at the moment, for were it so we should have nothing better to do than to remain silent.

Rene Guenon, The Crisis of the Modern World, 1927

Chaos, in the broadest sense defined as a state of absolute disorder of a system or a lack of order.

BEGIN with basic statements, we learned: while making attempts to define any abstract items or revise the term, we should consider unobvious constraints of our thinking, invisibly bringing with existing lexical and sensing tools of comprehension.

We remember, that human mind operates with a very narrow spectrum of humanity-mastered tools, intent to improve world` knowing and understanding process. Our vision and world-describing mechanism also limited with these.

Any search (either searching a precise definition of the phenomenon or the searching another problem-solving solutions) in the circumstances of limited resources is directed to the subjective value and easiness of usage. As an aftermath, most part of the meanings and thoughts, created by humanity, never goes to the open space of pure search, being bound with hard-to-define conventional semantic constructs, such as a “benefit”, “efficiency” and “optimal”. Also, we can’t avoid huge amount cognitive biases.

Therefore, any research we have to start from observing instruments of research, after that goes investigation of the personality mindset to define it operation principles and try to predict restrictions.

This idea can be seen as another way to find a mind state, closed to state of pure perception, but our horizon is much further: we are looking for quantifiable constraints of our mind just to stop keeping within certain limits.

Evolution is I am

Our ancestries through evolution, in difficult conditions for a long time. We are the offsprings of the branch of successful apes, which learned and teach kids how to survive from the beginning of time and brought to the world the improved samples of new people.

Among existed apes we are the best.

We are placed on the top of world just because we are really good at two things: looking for a new and effective ways of getting profit. We all have a powerful pimped compass inside, always showing us the direction of thinking, common for all primates: body comfort, food supply and reproduction.

It still works well, but it’s already not enough for two reasons: world was changed and the way it is was changed.

An old-fashioned profit-looking compass is useless and even harmful already. At Mark, Mask’s and Brin’ era, idea of upmarket consumption is a very wasting time. For people of first-worlds with their sufficiency and fullness, involved in various well-payed useless job paradigm shifting is not necessity, and they probably noticed changes just when Buzzfeed will make another post about it.

At the same time, some young evangelists of a brand-new way of consumption, show that life doesn’t consist of profit, as we used to consider.

There are some people with an unfamiliar and weird life mode, who often paying bills in amount of a small country budget and at the same time wearing cheap watches and humble shoes.

And at the same time old hat newspaper owners, who stop to create classy things foregoing century, still believe in a power of fucking hundred thousand fashion shit, trading with paparazzi shoots leaks, and drink everywhere anecdotally expensive whiskey, trying to remember, what the bloody reason to continue that lifestyle, despite the never-ending open as-a-day miracles of new world which lay to them all last decade at minimum.

Leandro Herrero wrote about that:

“Corporate life lives in a bubble. We may not want to admit it, but we do. We think that the forces upon us are the invisible hands of markets, of course the political life, and our own internal capability of producing the appropriate products and services.”

Those pretenders will gone to the boat last ones, and we have no idea, how they will promote their lifestyle in a society, where, for example, possession will be a burden, weighing on the life of common people.

The same new dimension of profit we listen from neuroscientist and philosopher Sam Harris in his TED lecture, where he did reflect, how to profitably use one's time and rethinking our well-being in a larger context:

«In fact, the endurance of religion as a lens through which most people view moral questions has separated most moral talk from real questions of human and animal suffering. This is why we spend our time talking about things like gay marriage and not about genocide or nuclear proliferation or poverty or any other hugely consequential issue. But the demagogues are right about one thing: We need a universal conception of human values.»

But let`s forget about someone else ignorance, and observe our own.

For the convenience of pure knowledge

Curiosity, as a thing – is a insatiable hunger, and everyone, who got the Socratic understanding of knowing-nothing, and want to change it to go further to look at the world as is, putting out a fire with gasoline. If you curious, you at the same time unable to stop looking for the right questions and asking them, even every smarty dude from Youtube manifested it out every corner till you go away with loathing.

Even thou.

Again, according to Socrate, who describes a knowledge (epistêmê) as ability to know the real as it is, we come to the risk to come to the on-bounding perception concept. And again, we just looking for a way to avoid most part of mistakes, bounding our common-people consciousness, with trying to avoid them without buzzing with certain supremacy about fucking changes in the world.

We care about keeping interesting for the world and coming to the sort of comprehension.   

According to Aristotle, human beings have a natural desire and capacity to know and understand the truth, to pursue moral excellence, and to instantiate their ideals in the world through action.

Does it means we don’t need to start a curiosity of fire with a bit of a knowledge? Does it mean no one need pushing ourselves to know? Does it means we just need to figure out, what exactly we are interested in and the most pleasant way to complete understanding?

We offer to start from the simple task: try to watch a life without gravity to the food- and sex-related items. Usually the next sequence helps: а) managing the inner primate’ behaviour, b) removing ape-shaped components, c) organizing a personal mindset: regular classification system, prioritizing system, decision-making and problem-solving mind systems.

Then, if you not amazed with a single idea of moved out from mindset as more as possible disclosing profit-oriented decision rails, probably you interested to observe, how around system looks without them.  

Main exploration tool

If you don’t really scared with previous paragraphs, let’s talk about next personality-scratching steps. Human development determined by consistent usage of certain tools for creation other tools.

Complex instrument for understanding the world embodies some ideas ​​multiply elementary instruments.

As soon as ape has measured the first item, all items that way or another turned into measuring equipment for further researches.

We consider the perception (or in certain sense a mind) as a main exploration tool on the earth, though neuroplasticity as a main condition for the learning.  

There are no things more important, than mental ability to change, or “reorganize itself by forming new neural connections throughout life”. Neuroplasticity function is the major requirement for a long-term surviving on the surface of our planet, what we are talking at the beginning.

So, as soon surface has changed and everyone knowledge demands has changed, maybe one time you’ll find an hour for pure thinking?  Or even find a two minutes to talk about new North for our profit compass?  

In current moment observation tools actually has become complicated enough to led to discover human’s evolutionary determined desire to revealing regularity, which oriented to identifying patterns and drives us there.

Pattern-watching and Pattern matching

Human survivals are pretty good in both, and this fixed desire to play “Find the similarities” game after all these years of knowledge evolution bring us a knowledge about special pattern form – fractal.

Usually it defined as a similar consistent patterns (the whole object has the same shape as his one or more parts); without going into the mathematical definition, it can be described as an object, exactly or approximately coincides with a part of himself.

Not so long time ago the concept of a fractal or self-similarity concept, received the status of a clear mathematical construct and bring the names for many objects and phenomenas, which have been described before as an "chaotic" and "formless".

That new way of describing the world made many bulky structures and meanings comprehensible – particularly, we’ve got an ability to represent graphically the iteratively built fractals.

Hey, aliens! Come here, we’ve got a new measurement instrument and need to observe you!

So, as soon as we’ve reached a fractal domain, and immediately goes to effortless juggling with senses, unfeasible before, and directed a human thought to the completely different level of understanding of the complexity of consistency. Rethinking of entropy, they says.

And – a new angle for the world view.

Some scientific theory consider the universe as a set of never-ending fractals. This phenomenon based on a simple idea: the infinite variety of figures can be obtained from relatively simple constructions with only two operations – copying and scaling.

Appearance and further spreading through the collective mind different recognizable forms of self-similar structures and has led to the raise the research interest, careful consideration and studying various fractal forms, placed humanity far beyond comprehension limit.

The process of implementation self-similarity principle into the sciences was pretty rapid: if person enquire it anywhere one single time, it has led to the fractal form recognition everywhere.

If the new regularity was noticed before, we can observe it and find it in any place, wherever we focused: in the nature, in the abstract ideas, in the space, in the whole world.

The human itself and human activities are the fractal, human brain is a fractal, human development is a fractal, and so on.

A linguistic expression of this principle and it rules has the same number of variations as the numbers of options for assembling the Rubik's Cube, and most of them has unclear forms, hard to understanding for non-specialists. We prefer next two: “self-similarity comply the self-similarity principle” and “fractal principle comply per se”.

Here is another application of the a fractal algorithm: humanity stands at the right point to start observation for it selves and particularly for it development process.

Developing system usually coexisting with increasing of system complexity, the emergence of advanced structural concerns and extending the phenomenon calibre and the irreversibility of changing.

Among simple human concepts irreversibility presented the main characteristic of the time. But since we already know that a fractal principle going through the our universe at all levels from micro to macro, and that problem definition revision can change the result of the research, it's time we go back to the beginning of this text: Chaos defined as the state of absolute disorder of a system or a lack of order.

Let’s move the constrains of an “absence order” paradigm and transform the definition into the more tidy and hopeful form: Chaos is a state of the system, which order we have not discovered yet.

                                                                 ***

#Text

[somepoorsod]

Akhilleus & Patroklos; or, this post won’t be very popular

One of those vague posts I make every so often where I know I have a reaction to something, and have clues as to why, but haven’t actually explored then. So I start typing and hopefully find out, my thoughts being forced to organise themselves by being written down and by me looking things up which I only recollect in the general sense. This is for catharsis and self-exploration, and is necessarily opinionated and subjective. It is directed at me, not anyone who happens to post about this topic, so please don’t feel called out. (That said, you are absolutely and entirely free to not enjoy it, to disagree, and to argue with me, and it may well be that you do so). I have no doubt that by the time I’m finished it will have raised the spectre of elitism thoroughly. I will promise no homophobia, though, at least consciously.

So, why does something twitch within me, causing the screeching sound of nails on a blackboard, when I see yet another ‘Akhilleus and Patroklos were the truest bestest love ever’ and ‘The Iliad is being CENSORED’ post go crawling across my dash?

A) The Song of Achilles. This was neatly described (by someone who has since deleted the post, so I shan’t name them) as turning a ‘morally complex war story into twee teen porno fanfic’ and, my word, does it grate on me when people mistake the story and characterisation of the second for what goes on in the first. I am a fervent admirer of the Iliad in all its depth, and while TSOA is perfectly good as twee teen porn and has at least some merits in the re-interpretation arena, it really isn’t reflective of the epic.

B) Fundamentally, in the Iliad, both Patroklos and Akhilleus sleep with women and don’t sleep with each other.1 They don’t kiss each other. Frankly, until he’s dead, Akhilleus barely manages to show any affection for Patroklos at all, platonic or otherwise. The last conversation they have begins as a shouting match in which Akhilleus calls Patroklos a cowering girl and is told he’s a psychopath in return,2 and then goes on to demand Patroklos not actually defeat the Trojans because Akhilleus is still waiting until the Greeks are even more screwed to intervene and to be hailed as the glorious saviour.3 It is absolutely true that other Greek writers and artists (re-)interpreted their relationship as romantic, but reading that into the Iliad itself gets my goat up. I won’t go so far as to say it’s indefensibly wrong, but I think it is indubitably subjective, and would even say you have to stretch for it. Therefore, absolute statements which specifically invoke the Iliad (clashing with my own subjective interpretation of the epic) irk me. Furthermore, we have the Iliad, in which the two characters are actually explored to this extent, and we don’t have Aiskhylos’ trilogy which actually made an explicit romantic relationship out of their bond, nor really any other full work of literature which took that tack. It bothers me when so much actual text is brushed aside in favour of what people just want to happen. It feels terribly ... lazy.

C) Briseis. Oh, you poor woman. Her role gets annihilated by almost any discussion which has the hots for the Akhilleus/Patroklos pair. She’s intrusive and threatening to the ship, and therefore has to be ignored or dismissed. And that sucks. Homer writes some great female characters in the Iliad - Helen probably above all, but also Andromakhe, Hera, Athene, and others. Briseis doesn’t match them, I think, but she deserves some bloody consideration, deserves a chance. I have no desire to co-operate with the longstanding patriarchal erasure of women from mythos and the simplification of epic to MANLY MEN FIGHT MANLYLYLY. Ovid did not write the Heroides for this. It also makes the emotional milieu for Akhilleus’ decisions in 1, 9, 16, 19, and 24 significantly less complex if you immediately deride the idea that he actually cares for Briseis. Working that out, and how much it dominates him - compared to e.g. his offended pride, or his dissatisfaction with the whole timē/geras culture - is a really interesting question, which deserves attention. Akhilleus gives a powerful little speech about how Briseis is his “heart’s beloved” 4 - in spite of all that conspires against it - like Helen is to Menelaus, which one should not just disregard because it fails to fit the headcanon.

D) The stupid, cursed arguments we’ve inherited from the ancients about the erastes and eromenos. Partly because it’s such a hideous projection of classical Athenian cultural mores and sterotypes onto a text that doesn’t fit it. Akhilleus may be younger5 (*cough*, TSOA) but he’s also old enough to have a shaggy chest.6 He doesn’t fit the eromenos role either, and jamming him into that pigeonhole is, I think, just another part of how Phaedros is portrayed as a bit of an idiot in the Symposion. Partly, because it’s also a hideous projection of modern cultural sterotypes on a text that doesn’t fit it - and far too often I feel like I’m seeing this from people who were introduced to gay men via the artificial, exaggerated idea of uke and seme in Japanese porn and continue to see things, even want to see things, through that particular lens.

E) Not unrelatedly - and this also goes back to the TSOA point - the fulfilling of the impulsive human categorisation demand. The manifestation here being one that always frustrates me in media: a requirement that people with a strong emotional bond must be romantically related if they’re of anything like a similar age and aren’t blood related. (Patroklos and Akhilleus are, of course, pretty close blood relations, being first cousins once removed, but this is swept under the rug most of the time). To me, this cheapens how strong bonds of actual friendship are, and diminishes the emotional range and depth available to be portrayed and found in a work. Do you know how bloody pleased I was that Mako and Raleigh didn’t kiss at the end of Pacific Rim when all my expectations were that it was coming with an absolute inevitability? (There is a similar syndrome afflicting Hektor and Akhilleus whereby, because they’re rivals, the Trojan hero must be the next best fighter on the battlefield - despite the fact that Homer is actually doing all sorts of interesting things with Telamonian Aias as an Akhilleus cipher that get completely rolled over by that wretchedly simplistic idea).7

F) English. In more depth, there are (unavoidable) problems with people working from translation. For example, Lattimore’s 18.81-2 renders ‘τὸν ἐγὼ περὶ πάντων τῖον ἑταίρων, ἶσον ἐμῇ κεφαλῇ’ as ‘whom I loved beyond all other companions, as well as my own life’. Which I think is reasonably fair in that emotional context, though there is perhaps needless ambiguity in making ‘ ἶσον’ ‘as well as’. Yet the number of people who jump on this as a declaration of confirmed romantic intent, when the Greek τίω is fundamentally ‘I value’ being translated in a powerful way, frustrates me deeply. τίω is so frequently mercantile in the Iliad,8 to the extent that I think it’s even fair for someone uncharitable to continue to read an unconscious self-centredness into Akhilleus here and take it as Patroklos being more beneficial for Akhilleus than anyone else was. And yet this act of sensitive translation has led people to assume we have steaming eros and nightly rogering sessions going on. It can’t be helped, but it’s still wrong. 

1 αὐτὰρ Ἀχιλλεὺς εὗδε μυχῷ κλισίης εὐπήκτου: τῷ δ᾽ ἄρα παρκατέλεκτο γυνή, τὴν Λεσβόθεν ἦγε, Φόρβαντος θυγάτηρ Διομήδη καλλιπάρῃος. Πάτροκλος δ᾽ ἑτέρωθεν ἐλέξατο: πὰρ δ᾽ ἄρα καὶ τῷ Ἶφις ἐΰζωνος, τήν οἱ πόρε δῖος Ἀχιλλεὺς Σκῦρον ἑλὼν αἰπεῖαν Ἐνυῆος πτολίεθρον.

But Akhilleus slept in the farthest corner of the well-built hut; and a woman laid down there with him, one he had brought from Lesbos - Diomede with her beautiful cheeks, daughter of Phorbas. And on its opposite side, Patroklos laid down; and another slept with him - Iphis of the lovely girdle, one whom godlike Akhilleus provided him after he conquered steep Skyros, the citadel of Enyeus. (Il. 9.663-669) ↩

2 16.1-35, which I translated here. ↩

3 μὴ σύ γ᾽ ἄνευθεν ἐμεῖο λιλαίεσθαι πολεμίζειν Τρωσὶ φιλοπτολέμοισιν: ἀτιμότερον δέ με θήσεις:

Don't be eager to fight without me against the warloving Trojans: you will make me less honoured. (Il. 16.89-90) ↩

4 … τί δὲ λαὸν ἀνήγαγεν ἐνθάδ᾽ ἀγείρας Ἀτρεΐδης; ἦ οὐχ Ἑλένης ἕνεκ᾽ ἠϋκόμοιο; ἦ μοῦνοι φιλέουσ᾽ ἀλόχους μερόπων ἀνθρώπων Ἀτρεΐδαι; ἐπεὶ ὅς τις ἀνὴρ ἀγαθὸς καὶ ἐχέφρων τὴν αὐτοῦ φιλέει καὶ κήδεται, ὡς καὶ ἐγὼ τὴν ἐκ θυμοῦ φίλεον δουρικτητήν περ ἐοῦσαν.

… Why has he lead his summoned warhost here, that son of Atreus? Was it not for the sake of Helen and her fair hair? Or do they alone among mortal men love their wives, these sons of Atreus? Hardly: any good and sensible man loves his woman and cares for her, as I too did for her, my heart’s beloved, though she had been merely the slave won by my spear. (Il. 9.338-343) ↩

5 τέκνον ἐμὸν γενεῇ μὲν ὑπέρτερός ἐστιν Ἀχιλλεύς, πρεσβύτερος δὲ σύ ἐσσι

“My child, it may be that Akhilleus is your better, but you are the elder." (Il. 9.586-7) ↩

6  στήθεσσιν λασίοισι e.g. as in 1.189. ↩

7 Seriously, this is practically the entire point of Book 7. ↩

8 It most frequently appears in 23, to equate all the prizes Akhilleus is giving out with their equivalent in cattle. See, e.g., 23.702-5:

τῷ μὲν νικήσαντι μέγαν τρίποδ᾽ ἐμπυριβήτην, τὸν δὲ δυωδεκάβοιον ἐνὶ σφίσι τῖον Ἀχαιοί: ἀνδρὶ δὲ νικηθέντι γυναῖκ᾽ ἐς μέσσον ἔθηκε, πολλὰ δ᾽ ἐπίστατο ἔργα, τίον δέ ἑ τεσσαράβοιον.

For the victor, a great tripod made to put over the fire, which the Akhaians valued among themselves at twelve oxen; for the defeated man, he put up as a prize a woman, skilled in many kinds of work, whom they valued at four oxen. ↩

#tagamemnon #homer #achilles #patroclus #the song of achilles #iliad #long post #self-reflection #akhilleus #patroklos #ancient sexuality #homosexuality #plato #symposium #aeschylus #achilleis #aiskhylos #important posts #briseis #my translation

[the-xfiles-is-bisexual]

Doughnuts and Starbucks?

So, I have something that I need to get off of my chest, but I feel like it’s easier to do if I present it as a story, instead of just writing an account of events. Read it if you want, just be warned that it is about sexual assault. 

It was an uncommonly humid night on the 15th of September, though I don’t remember thinking much of it as the time. Outside of my window, and down a flight, I could hear the sounds of somebody talking.  If I had been older than I was, I would have done something more than I did, but I did nothing more than close my window and go back to watching the film that was playing on the television. I didn’t pass a thought that the voice came from my family’s backyard. 

On the film, a woman was exploring an abandoned house that was haunted by some sort of demon, and finds herself to be possessed by it. I found it funny, my suspension of disbelief broken by the comical, nature of the demon’s appearance, due to the older nature of the movie. 

My room soon became hot again, so I cracked my window a bit again, listening to see if they were still outside. Satisfied by hearing nobody, I opened the window all of the way, and sat back down, enjoying the warm breeze coming into the room. 

There was a knock at the front door. My parents always told me that I wasn’t allowed to answer the front door, but I wasn’t keen on listening to them when they weren’t home.  There was a second set of knocks. I got up and went downstairs to the door, when they knocked a third time. I opened the door ajar, peeking out to see nobody outside. I locked the door, and made my way back up to my room. Now unnerved, I switched off the television set, no longer in the mood for a scary movie. 

Silence now filled the house. 

This time, the knocking grew louder with each time, growing more and more forceful. I made my way to my parent’s room, with a window over;looking the street. I sat down next to the window sill in the dark, waiting to see who would come away from my door. From downstairs, I could hear the telephone ringing. 

I kept my eye on the street, backing out of the room, before turning and hurrying downstairs. The darkened entryway looming large on my mind as I walked past it, making me fear turning my back on it. I picked up the phone, and put the handset to my ear. On the other end, I could hear the sound of someone hanging up.  

Again, a pounding at the door.  After three sharp raps, the phone rings again. I quickly picked it up again, and again they hung up. I put down the phone, and ran back upstairs to sit by my parent’s window again. 

Across the street, on the curb, sat a man who was middle aged that I could not recognize, staring absentmindedly at my family’s front door. I crawled out of the room, and once I was sure that I had cleared his line of possible sight, I stood up and ran into my room to grab the camera that I had gotten for my birthday last year.  While I had only just seen him, I could already feel like he only bore me ill will. Looking down the lens, I focused on him, and clicked the shutter. A bright light filled the room, bouncing back off of the inside of the window. I had forgotten to remove the flashcube. 

I dropped the camera out of fright, and hid down below the edge of the window.  Peeking back down on the street, the man now looked directly up at me, now smiling. 

I threw the blinds closed, and ran for my desk to fetch my father’s work phone number. I ran down the stairs for the phone, and slipped and fell in the dark entryway. 

I felt up the wall for a light switch, and flicked it on; revealing the hardwood floor coated in a bright red, blood.  I tried to let out a scream of terror, but it was higher than my voice could go, resulting in just the choking sound of air escaping from my throat. 

I could hear the heavy thump of footsteps on the floor above me, approaching the top of the stairs. Above me, coming down the stairs, is a figure draped in my blue bed sheet, with a horrifying bloody splotch decorating the center. They made their way towards me. I tried to crawl backwards towards the door, my hands slipping out from under me in the blood, still unable to cry. The figure kept towards me, backing me up against the door, and knelt down by my side. Despite the gory scene, and the night of terror I endured, this figure did not feel to be an evil one. I reached out to it’s face, moving to reveal their face, but they grabbed my wrist, stopping me. 

The figure’s voice was neither masculine, nor was it feminine. All of these years later I can not remember what it sounded like, but- as odd as it might sound- I am now comforted thinking of the figure. ‘My Bloody Ghost’, as I would come to call them. 

My Savior.

They sat down alongside me, and reached out to stroke my hair, filling me with a warm feeling of calmness. They told me not to be afraid, for everything that happened this night was nothing more than a dream. I told them that I wanted to wake up now, and they told me no. But they would stay there with me, until it would be safe for me too wake up. I obliged the bloody spirit. I don’t know why, but in this dream, I lay my head down in their lap, allowing them to run their fingers through my hair. We sat there, in peacefulness, as minutes flowed into what felt like hours. 

Soon, they leaned over and gently whispered into my ear that their job was done, and it was time for me too wake up. That was the last time I would ever see my bloody ghost. 

-

I awake, with my eyes still closed, reaching out to roll that same sky blue bed sheet the figure wore in between my fingers. I was a 15 year old boy who had come out to his parents as gay only a month prior. I was still a little over six months away from starting puberty; the latest out of my entire friend group, the source of much ridicule. But all of that was far from my mind, as I was still thinking about the warmth of my ghost. My lovely, bloodied ghost. 

I acutely became aware of a new sensation that I never felt before, an indescribably pain radiating from my lower abdomen. I opened my eyes, and too my horror; found that my sheet was bloodied. 

I threw back my blanket, to see my legs cased in drying blood, causing the sheet to stick to my legs. The painful sensation only grew with each moment, and it soon became too painful to be sitting down. The blood had come, from me. 

I had no idea what to do.

I was frozen.

That sight, and that sensation of the deepest pain that I had ever known to this day, should have been enough to make any child wail to the heavens. But I didn’t make a sound. not a peep. And I don’t know why. 

I checked the time, and saw that it was still early; my parents wouldn’t wake up for nearly two hours. Tears now starting to well in my eyes, as I was on the verge of having my very first panic attack. My sister had been moved to live with our grandparents in California earlier that year. 

I was alone. 

I decided that I needed to shower. 

I fought to get up, peeling the sheet off of my legs, and I became aware that my pajama pants were across the room, by my closed bedroom door.  Up until that morning, I had slept with my door all of the way open every night of my life, due to an overwhelming fear of the dark. I even kept a heavy dictionary propping the door open so that the wind couldn’t accidentally blow it closed.

A dictionary that now sat atop my bookshelf.

From that night on, I would have a fear of sleeping with my bedroom door open. 

I opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway, pulling the door closed behind me, wishing to God that I could lock it. I was deathly afraid of my parent’s seeing the mess of my bed. Because I had no idea how I would explain it to them. because I had no idea what happened. I had no memory between dinner and waking up. 

I went into the bathroom, turned on the fan, and hesitantly locked the bathroom door, another first. I undressed and got into the shower. The water stung at me like bites. Shit. I forgot a timer. One of the rules of the house was that I was allowed to shower for no longer than 15 minutes, unless I wanted for my dad to yell at me for wasting hot water. I laid down on my side on the bath floor, and completely broke down. I cried, and cried, and cried. The water ran from hot, to warm, and to cold, but I still did not get up. The whole time I cried, I made sure not to sob any louder than the bathroom fan, for fear that if my mom or dad did wake up, they would hear and demand to know what was wrong.  I felt a guilt that I could not describe, and one that I could not find the source for.

By the time I dried my eyes, and dressed into clean clothes, nearly 45 minutes had passed. I needed to figure out a way to deal with my ‘mess.’ I couldn’t wash my sheets, because my Dad was the only one allowed to do the laundry per his rule. Not even mom was allowed to work the machine. 

I stood in front of my door, and took a deep breath, trying to prepare myself for what lay on the other side of the door. I opened my door, and I found a sight that caught my breath in my throat.

My bedding had been stripped.

I couldn’t breath, it felt like I was choking. 

I closed my door, and snuck downstairs, careful to avoid the steps I knew would creak.

I entered the laundry room. The washing machine was whirring. It sounded almost angry. I opened the lid to see my blanket, and bright blue bed sheet spinning

around,

and around

and around.

I shut the lid, and left the room, closing the door behind me. I stood there, staring at the ground in front of me, trying my best to comprehend what had been happening to me. My still developing brain, unsuccessfully trying it’s best to make heads or tails, telling me that what I saw wasn’t true. It just couldn’t be. It wouldn’t be until a few months ago, when I brought up this ‘mysterious event’ to my therapist, and she sat my down and explained what I had just described to her. My dad had always told me that ‘that’ can’t happen to boys.

But in the meantime, I stood there, watching the floor. My dad came out of the kitchen, and asked me what was wrong, startling me. 

I didn’t know how to answer his question, my words caught in the back of my throat. He smiled at me, unsettling me in the same way that the man across the street in my dream had.

“What are your thoughts on doughnuts and Starbucks? For breakfast?” He asked, but I didn’t know what too say. I was having more trouble than I ever had in my life trying to find the courage to form a word, but all I could muster was a half-hearted nod. I stared into his eyes, and a lump began to form in my throat, I was a 15 year old boy who was deathly afraid of his father for reasons he could not yet explain. He pulled me in for a hug, and kissed me on the mouth. He then told me to put on my shoes while he got his wallet and keys. 

#tw r*pe #tw blood #horror #personal #short story