#it gets progressively gayer as you can imagine

[headaching]

babe wake up it’s time for my monthly titanic au zukka breakdown

As he prepared his pencil and steadied his hand, Sokka tried to subdue the incessant, gnawing desire to do Zuko’s image justice. He began with a rough outline of his body, his legs splayed across the couch, the lines of his abdomen.

Sokka didn’t bother brushing the wayward strands of hair from his face as he huddled over his sketchbook in concentration.

“So serious,” Zuko teased with a stern expression, his lips pouted outward.

Sokka shook his head and muttered, “Stay still,” as he shaded the shadows of Zuko’s arms.

“Or what?” Zuko taunted, and Sokka looked up to find Zuko’s playfully angry expression hadn’t changed.

Sokka paused and pointed the pencil at Zuko. “Or I’ll come over there and make you,” he threatened, and Zuko finally stilled.

[pinkeoni]

And now, for no reason in particular, in no way related to anything on my blog at all, here is a long ramble about sexuality in Fallout: New Vegas and Fallout: 4

So in Fallout: New Vegas there is the option to control your characters sexuality, something that was fairly revolutionary at the time the game came out in 2011. The perks Black Widow and Lady Killer allow +10% damage along with unique dialogue options for the opposite sex, and Cherchez la Femme and Confirmed Bachelor offer the same bonus but for the same sex. The player has to option to chose one or both of these perks, and they both become available fairly early in gameplay. I usually pick both perks for the added damage bonus, although since Fallout is for an intents and purposes a roleplaying game, I like to imagine that my player character is a lesbian and is only flirting with men in order to get ahead.

Along with the fact that you can make your character gay, bisexual, or what have you, there are also a few gay characters within the game. The companions Arcade Ganon and Veronica are a gay man and lesbian respectively. There are a few other NPCs that have dialogue acknowledging their queerness.

The one thing that I wish that NV did have was the ability to romance companions. Imagine me, with my ancient HP laptop burning my lap, exhausting every one of Veronica's dialogue options trying to see if I can date her but to no avail. You can actually flirt with Ganon if you are a male character with the Confirmed Bachelor perk, although the interaction does not go farther than that. You can have sex with same sex prostitutes, but there's no cutscene. If I pay 300 caps for some hanky panky, then I wanna see it!

So when I found out that you could romance companions in Fallout: 4, I was beyond excited.

In F:4 you can romance most companions regardless of gender, effectively making any of the romancable companion bisexual by default. You can also romance any number of companions at the same time, meaning you could have one big bisexual polyamorous relationship if you wanted to (the companions cannot date each other and are all connected to you, but the choice to have multiple partners is still there.

Bisexual polyamory sounds very progressive, and I don't think that that shouldn't be acknowledged, but even without the romance options, NV feels like the gayer game.

The thing about the romance options in 4 is that it doesn't seem to address identity. All of these characters are bisexual by default, but (as far I have seen from reviews and from my own experience playing) the characters don't ever acknowledge queerness as an identity. If I'm a female player character romancing a female companion, there isn't any dialogue acknowledging the fact that we are both women (in fact from what I've read, the dialogue is the same regardless if you are a man or woman, with only the pronouns being changed). Furthermore, the perks that you can choose that controls the characters sexuality are not there. Black Widow and Lady Killer are still there, although their same-sex counterpart perks are not available.

What I like about the perks in NV is the fact that player identity is not only something that has to be imagined behind the screen, but it becomes a facet within the game that influences the game and is acknowledged. Not only with sexuality, but gender is a factor in the role play as well. There are a few characters who acknowledge through dialogue that my character is a woman.

In 4 you are given a backstory as a spouse in an opposite-sex marriage with a new baby, superimposed into a heterosexual relationship right off the bat. This is opposed to NV where you play as a glorified mail carrier with amnesia that you can project a backstory onto. In 4 the game starts off with your spouse essentially being literally "fridged" (no literally, they die inside of a cryochamber) and your baby is kidnapped which triggers the main plot of the game. I guess this could be subversive if the player character is a woman, but that's only the player chooses to be a woman. Context clues points to the game assuming that the player is a man, what with the male player character voicing the opening narration of the game, along with being the defaulted gender option in the character creation screen. I think that choosing to play as a woman creates a much more compelling narrative, although the game never acknowledges this so it's mostly up to the player to infer this narrative themselves. (Again, gender is only brought up through pronouns) I would say that maybe the game is trying to offer commentary on the nuclear family household, although the problem doesn't rely on the family itself but the war and outsiders are the ones who destroyed it while the family itself was perfectly healthy.

You would think that being a newly widowed spouse would have some impact on the romance aspect of the game, especially if you are engaging with a same sex partner after previously being with a partner of the opposite-sex. Which isn’t to say that people in heterosexual relationships can’t also be interested in the same-sex or that people in marriages can’t be engaged in a healthy open relationship, and I do like that the game includes this option at all, although (and again, this is to my knowledge) this doesn't seem to get a mention when dealing with the romance. The dead spouse only really makes an impact on the main storyline of the game, and similarly, the romance aspect doesn't seem to effect this aspect at all.

F:4 tries to have an established backstory while also trying to give the player the same freedom of role play that its had in previous games, but these two player identities just end up running parallel to each other rather than working together. You can make choices in the game that seems to contradict your backstory without it ever being addressed. This could maybe make for an interesting story, but (and once again, as much as I have played and seen) there doesn't seem to be any internal conflict between the player character's past and what they decide to do for the run of the game.

While all of the romancable companions are effectively bisexual by the nature of the gameplay, bisexuality or queerness in any capacity isn't recognized as an identity and operates more on just a cosmetic level. Not that a character would have to explicitly state that their label in order for it to be valid, but it doesn't add anything to their character in the same way that it does for Ganon and Veronica from NV. These two never say "I am a gay man" or "I am a lesbian" in that exact way but their identities have an impact on their character and how they interact with the player. Veronica in particular had a girlfriend in her past that wasn't approved of by the strictly conservative Brotherhood of Steel that she belongs to.

"So you want homophobia in your video games? This is a post-apocalyptic society, who cares about who dates who!" and to be fair sexuality in Fallout society does seem to be far more lenient in both NV and 4, which makes sense considering the context. There aren't any marriage laws, and there's even a line suggesting that the male soldiers from the fascist Caesar regime are regularly mounting each other.

But still, Veronica experiencing that bit of homophobia from her past helps queer identity feel more realized rather than just an empty gesture from game devs for a few political correctness points, and can even be found as relatable to some of it's queer players. Veronica's story is about her desperately trying to save her conservative community, but comes to realize that the only way for her to live is to leave them behind. She's heartbroken to leave her family, but recognizes that she has to prioritize herself even if they aren't going to. The Brotherhood of Steel isn't a real organization, but that's definitely a real experience. If the Fallout games aim to offer commentary on real-world politics (which it definitely aims to do) then it isn't going to succeed if it's characters don't reflect real-world experiences.

Sorry if this comes off as me railing on F:4, I actually greatly enjoy the game and have probably sunk more hours into it than NV (which is partially due to my PS4 actually being functional and the laptop I have that plays NV has been on its last legs for years now) and I do greatly enjoy the characterization of the companions, even if I wish that their queer identities made more of an impact. NV, on the other hand, is one of my favorite games of all time.

So that's my whole spiel. Doesn't have anything at all to do with anything else on my blog whatsoever. Completely unrelated.

[thekuraning]

Waaah, could I please have 8, 24, 25, 33 and 38 for the writing ask? 😍

XHAJHSDGHA thats SO MANY 😭 (ty friend!!)

I dont know when to shut up so im puttinf them under a readmore

8. How slow is a slow burn?

I am so bad as accurately pacing a fic so this is something that. Is hard to say. But I think there's no hard limit to how short or long a slow burn actually is. What makes something a slow burn is a combination of 2 criteria: a) the length of time the story takes place over, and b) how long it takes for the reader to get from plot point to plot point. If you consider something like Romeo & Juliet, it takes place in-universe over the course of like a couple days, and you are constantly moving from story beat to story beat since the work is meant to be enjoyed in one presentation. It's complex and moving, but I think we all can agree it's not a slow-burn, more of a sudden explosion lol. Some people may think that sitting around 20k words it's not a short work, and for a play it's average (about 2 hours) but it's only 1/5 the length of a standard novel! (100k)

But if we imagine Romeo & Juliet taking place over say 4 months, and each 5000 words is a moment where he's come to Juliet's window one night each month, and nothing else about the story is different, the entire tone changes to something longer and drawn-out. In fact, I think it's probably possible for a skilled author to write a convincing long burn in 10k words or less if the internal and external pacing of the story is right. I also think it's probably possible to write a slow-burn that takes place within one universe day, but I think the pacing for that would require more words.

In reality, slow burn just needs to feel long, even if it isn't actually long.

24. Thoughts on flashbacks/flash forwards.

GO. FUCKING. WILD. Make time your bitch. Laugh at the linear progression of cause and effect. Storytelling is this weird abstraction where all of time exists at once and won't ever exist again. A well-placed flashback or flash forward will enhance the story by revealing hidden motive, establishing dramatic irony, or building anticipation. Be fucky with time. It's already fake and gay—with your help, we can make it faker and gayer! 🫵

Naturally, like any trope or tool, there's always a time and place when a flashback or flashforward is most effective, and sometimes it won't be. But as long as it doesn't feel pointless, as long as it feels like it's a scene we need, they're great to use! I started really playing with time and flashes in Maelstrom fic because of the villain, and it's the funnest thing even in relatively minor jumps of minutes or hours. DON'T BE AFRAID TO USE FLASH JUMPS THEY ARE GOOD AND FUN!!! 👍👍👍

25. Is writing the whole thing beforehand better or worse than writing it as you go?

I wish I was the kind of person who could write the whoke thing beforehand, because I think that + careful editing really is the best way to create a cohesive, well-balanced narrative but right now i just... dont work like that lol. I feel like i have to be extra diligent in keeping track ofnplot threads and potential holes and such. But on the other hand I think I prefer it this way because I get a lot of good feedback on what's working via comments! Especially in long running fics like Maelstrom or Zubat Fangs I refer to comments a lot when trying to decide how hard to hit certain plot points. I'm always open to (polite) constructive criticism on my fics bc of that!

33. Give your writing a compliment.

I think my writing brings people joy :) in all sorts of ways! My silly writing, my angsty writing, my gorey writing.... it all makes someone's day a little better at some point, and I take a lot of pride in that. I can also look back over the years and see how much my skills have improved since I uploaded my first fanfiction decades ago, which I think I still have on a floppy somewhere lol.

I've gotten so confident that I'm starting to more and more seriously consider working on my original fiction and well 😬 I'd like to publish something professionally. Even if I only self-pubklish an e-book or smth. I think I'm about there!!!

38. "This never happened" fix-it fics or "this happened but" fix-it-fics.

Definitely "this happened but" fix-its. I got my start in pokemon fics naturally and one thing you never see the end of are "Ash is a better trainer and never got pikachu" fix-its which. I mean. Eh. Sure. There's nothing wrong with that per say but like. To me it's the same as writing a coffee shop AU. You're telling a different story conpletely. And of course there's degrees, because sometimes the change is smaller and what that means is the story is basically the same. Idk. There's nothing wrong with that but it doesn't make me excited. "Yes BUT" feels like its adding onto something, not just altering it. 🤔

Thanks again friend!! This was fun!! 🥺

[eolewyn1010]

Dragging Frankenstein - Chapter 19

Which starts out gay, and keeps getting gayer. Half the time, I'm left wondering if Mary Shelley did this on purpose.

“Clerval desired the intercourse of the men of genius and talent” – XD Good on you, Henry, for setting higher standards than pretty. DAS GAY: 27

…okay, the way Victor is all about loving Henry and how wonderful Henry is gets them another one for their relationship. DAS GAY: 28

I’ll hold back from giving one for Henry being “anxious to gain experience and instruction”, but… yeah, have fun, sweetie. My brain is a little Pride Month-addled.

-.- Aaaand Henry promptly gets a sympathy point removed for wanting to progress India’s colonization. Dude.

“that I might not debar him from the pleasures natural to one who was entering on a new scene of life” o.O Okay, WHY is this reading like Henry has just come out and is exploring the local gay scene??

And with the “collecting materials” again, how does Victor hide them from his boyfriend, both in London and then during travelling? Imagine the conversation. “Uhm… Victor… you might wanna wash your underwear before packing it; the luggage is kind of smelly.”

“although I abhorred society” – wooooow, Victor is a real sunshine, isn’t he? I mean, I’m socially anxious, but that sounds more like the Creature in his hatred for humanity.

Once again, the passage of time confuses me. Shelley’s transitions, man. How tf do they need four months from London to Scotland? And why would they begin this journey in fucking February? And can Victor really afford to take this time? And give us a history lesson on the country, to boot. Like Bram Stoker, Shelley can’t resist the temptation to write a travel guide. Train schedules, anyone?

Every “soon” is “four months later”, Victor needed 6 fucking YEARS to go back home to visit his family. Honestly, I’m amazed that the shallow twit even still wants to marry Elizabeth and doesn’t consider her an old maid not worthy of his attention at this point. It’d be like him.

However, as my friend pointed out, he rarely ever thinks about actually being married to Elizabeth. It’s a very abstract concept to him, marrying her at all. How convenient that he doesn’t have to get used to it. Being married would require him to actually take the role he has rejected regarding the Creature. He’d have to take responsibility for Elizabeth and the household, for hypothetical children. He’d have to be dependable, emotionally, financially, in regards to the time he spends with them. It’s different with Henry. Henry is the one who’s always there to support him, and to be up for every whim of Victor’s. A marriage doesn’t work that way. Conclusion: Victor’s problem isn’t that the Creature is ugly. It’s just that Victor is a fucking deadbeat.

Ah, but it wouldn’t be complete without Victor moping. Feeling once more that Stephenie Meyer’s characters are heavily based on 19th century gothic horror novels, even though she completely fails at the horror part. All the same whiners. “Byronic hero” my ass; try “emo brat”.

“…at Servox and Chamonix. The latter name made me tremble when pronounced by Henry” – XDDD I know what Victor is on about, but the choice of words makes me think that, for a student of languages, Henry seems to really butcher that pronunciation.

“I could now almost fancy myself among the Swiss mountains.” – Yeah, why would you go anywhere else at all if not to feel exactly like at home?

When Victor talks about getting letters from home, he gives us this baffling line: “I hardly dared to read and ascertain my fate.” Oh, right. Whether Elizabeth and his father and brother are still alive is Victor’s fate. Had almost forgotten it. IT’S ALL ABOUT ME: 20

“you enjoy yourself, and let this be our rendezvous” – DAS GAY: 29

This journey is really an opportunity for the boys to have a gay old time, huh.

I’m giving this another double bc Henry gets so heartache-y at separating from Victor for a while, “I cannot feel at home in your absence” and all that. Henry, you’re too good for him. DAS GAY: 30

Victor travels to the Orkneys and sneers about how poor his surroundings and the people are -.- I held back on giving him a point for the smug attitude with which he just presumed some important scientist would be eager to share all his wisdom with him, the college drop-out brat, but I will so count his turning up his nose on miserable cows, “squalidness of the most miserable penury”, gaunt limbs, and meals that have the audacity to consist of oatmeal and vegetables. I SO PRIVILEGED: 9

“I ordered it to be repaired, bought some furniture, and took possession” – He’s insistent on pissing me off, the patronizing little shitstain. Why don’t you repair it yourself? I SO PRIVILEGED: 10

“As it was, I lived ungazed at and unmolested” o.O Is. Is Victor craving some gazes and molestation or something?

“employed in the most detestable occupation” …yeah, right, but when you did it the first time, serving no benefit but your own fame, then it was a noble undertaking of creating a new species and shit.

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Michael in the Mainstream - Venom: Let There Be Carnage

In his review of the Brendan Fraser masterpiece The Mummy, Roger Ebert said, "There is hardly a thing I can say in its favor, except that I was cheered by nearly every minute of it. I cannot argue for the script, the direction, the acting or even the mummy, but I can say that I was not bored and sometimes I was unreasonably pleased. There is a little immaturity stuck away in the crannies of even the most judicious of us, and we should treasure it."

 For me as well as for many others, this perfectly sums up why the original Venom was such a great film; it’s stupid, cartoonish schlock that looks like it came straight out of the early 2000s, but by God is it an entertaining movie that it’s hard not to smile at. And I am quite happy to report that not only does Venom: Let There Be Carnage manage to capture that same campy fun, it actually manages to surpass the original by being bigger, slimier, stupider, and gayer than even the original.

The thing fans love about the original film is the inherent homoeroticism of the relationship between Eddie and Venom, and if you were worried that maybe Andy “Gollum” Serkis would turn that down, let me remind you this film’s original subtitle was Love Will Tear Us Apart. This movie is, from the word go, a love story. Eddie and Venom are bantering from the start of the movie, bickering like an old married couple, and their relationship progresses like you’d expect from a rom-com. Venom helps Eddie get over a broken heart, they have a big blowout that results in them trashing the apartment, and I kid you not, Venom has a big coming out moment that he even announces as such. The L word might actually get tossed out at one point, it’s just beautiful. I can’t really imagine anyone being dissatisfied with their arc here, though some of the disagreements do unfortunately tread similar ground to the first film, almost making this movie redundant if it weren’t so much better. It’s like the Evil Dead 2 of Marvel movies.

Ah, but there’s another important part of that subtitle: Carnage. And if you were worried Mr. Kasady might disappoint, well, let’s just say this movie could easily be titled Carnage: Let There Be Venom, because as much as this is a story of Eddie and Venom’s relationship, this is a story about Cletus Kasady. Woody Harrelson does a great job portraying Cletus as a soft-spoken looney who knows when to get hammy, and despite the PG-13 rating that hampers the amount of bloodshed that can be shown onscreen, Carnage’s big debut into the film is everything you could want from the character. While I’m not totally happy that Cletus and Carnage aren’t perfectly in sync like in the comics, it’s hard to deny that they’re both fun antagonists who manage to steal the show whenever they’re onscreen. Cletus also has a sweet relationship with fellow psychopath Shriek, and while she’s not quite the presence Cletus is, their Natural Born Killers-esque mad love is quite endearing.

Brevity is the soul of wit, as they say, and this movie is thankfully pretty short. It really does dive right in and set everything up quickly to just give us what we want, and while there is some really rapid pacing in the beginning it does settle in to a more comfortable kind of breakneck speed. It never completely slows down, but you won’t have too hard a time following what’s going on.

This is a movie that just seems like it went out of its way to amplify everything that made the first movie work and also address some of the flaws. We actually have an interesting and compelling antagonist, and it leads to a wildly fun and creative final battle, a stark contrast to Riot and his pitiful final battle in the first film. Eddie and Venom’s relationship is pushed harder and they spend the whole movie interacting and coming to terms with each other. The comedy, the tone, the violence, all of it is just pushed to even greater degrees. And best of all, this movie is even stupider. We have utter nonsense pulled out of the ass of the writers such as Venom’s art skills or Carnage’s ability to hack into the FBI database from a gas station laptop, we have that utterly bizarre stinger which sets up something spectacular, perhaps even amazing and yet is utterly unexplained in the film, you have so much weirdness and nonsense… And really, would you want anything less?

Let There Be Carnage is exactly what I wanted it to be, and also more, and if you loved the first Venom movie you’ll probably love this one too. I have a pretty popular post going around about how I wish movies could be stupid and campy again, and this movie really scratches that itch. What really makes it work is that the movie is self-aware, but not condescendingly so; it’s not constantly stopping to wink at you like a SyFy movie like Sharkando, it simply understands you’re here to see Tom Hardy and his alien boyfriend have homoerotic tension and get into a slimy tentacle battle with an evil serial killer. This movie is earnest, honest, and proud of its ridiculousness, and for that I can’t help but love it.

[collabwithmyself]

*(wakes up to see country boy Phoenix - cracks knuckles)* “Let’s do this.”

Likely got best of both worlds seeing that he and Miles went to the same school - I’m thinking farm was in the country on the edge of a big city, Miles was big city, school was somewhere in the middle in suburbia... either that or his family moved to the city right before he entered that grade so he was already ostracized as being ‘that new farm kid’... I love the first because there are southern big cities (there’s a difference between southern and country), and honestly the idea of Miles also having a little bit of an accent from being in a city close to the country gives me life - but also the second one with the move fits with the plot better

Either way I’m saying his parents either still have or got a new farm and he gets his best thinking done while riding a tractor. If they’re within a reasonable distance he’ll sometimes be visiting, helping with the chores, and then all of a sudden “Sorry Mom and Dad, gotta go!” because he had an epiphany on a case in progress.

First time Miles and Larry get invited over as kids, Larry is offended that none of the chickens will let him hold them, but he’s just too loud and fidgety. Miles, however, is calm and quiet and within a few minutes has one in his lap letting him pet it. (If Phoenix’s little baby crush wasn’t solidified already, it is now. Chickens are great judges of character, and he loves seeing how gentle Miles is with them.)

Also during disbarment his parents are concerned about him and continually suggest the idea of him coming home, maybe not even to work on the farm (although nowadays many farm owners also have other jobs) but maybe the courts will be lenient and let him be a small town attorney (especially now as a parent he needs a more stable job to support Trucy). Phoenix resists however because 1) Trucy is going through enough changes; he doesn’t want to put her through a new lifestyle and take her away from what she is familiar with, 2) he truly believes he will find a way to prove his innocence, and 3) [the sass comes out] “I want to help defend the innocent - not the deadbeats who want custody of their child even though they never have food in the kitchen or a steady job”

He gets personally offended by Jake Marshall. Like, dude... did you spend one day in Ft Worth (the most stereotypical Cowboy City in Texas) and decided that was what the whole state was like? No one talks and acts like that (or maybe that’s just me projecting)

Most people can’t tell Phoenix is from the country, but he does have certain mannerisms and a practiced lack of any accent that people can tell he’s not native to big city life. Honestly the biggest tell is when he refers to anyone (especially those with authority, but anyone he’s trying to be polite to) sir or ma’am. He’s become careful, especially since some people will take it as an insult about their age (“oh I can’t believe I’m old enough to be referred to as sir/ma’am”) but when used at the right time it has won over a few individuals because “they aren’t used to talking with someone so cordial and polite”

Lotta and him butt heads, and I don’t think she catches on that he’s a country boy from the beginning, but in 2-4 he gets really heated at Miles and she overhears the accent slip out “Maya is kidnapped, I’m bein’ Blackmailed into goin’ against my beliefs and seekin’ the truth, and ya decide Now is the time to Waltz In and let me know YAINT ACTUALLY DEAD!” After that she has a bit more respect for a fellow country folk just trying to make it.

Also, to the one ask that suggested they knew each other, I’m imagining if he moved to the big city right before he met Miles, what if she was from before the move? They finally get talking over a couple of beers about growing up, she calls him out on being a country boy, and they realize that they were classmates up until 2nd grade or something but had changed so much they didn’t recognize/remember each other.

Body built for working. He’s not the type to work out, but he’s strong from just general biking into the city, fence mending, tree limb clearing, etc. Can also cook (and eat) well. Knows all the secrets to making a good roast, and will get offended if you refer to a cookout with hot dogs and hamburgers as a barbecue (it ain’t a barbecue unless the meat is smoked and slathered in sauce)

Also knows a lot about plumbing and electrical from making a room in the barn to be a laundry room. Just has a bunch of random skills where at the office something goes wrong and Mia says something like “I’ll call someone to fix it” and he’s asking her if she has any tools because he thinks he sees the problem and can fix it if she has even a basic toolkit. She pulls one out that hasn’t really seen the light of day in years (new office present from someone), and sure enough Phoenix gets it fixed.

Has boots and a hat somewhere, but really only wears them if majorly working on the farm or attending a country event like a rodeo or something. Although he does have quite a few plaid button-ups and jeans he’ll wear on more casual days. First time Miles sees him in that, he somehow becomes 10% gayer. (BOY LOOKS GOOD IN PLAID)

*(crashes back asleep)*

Holy SHIT, Azal.

[d-criss-news]

With the film industry as we know it—A-list stars swanning around studio lots amid the swirling winds of an entire city bellowing buzzwords about makin’ pictures—essentially nonexistent at the moment, here’s an especially provocative idea as we contemplate its eventual return: What if Hollywood was... better?

Not in terms of quality of output, though if we’ve learned anything through the industry’s glacial inching toward progress, that will follow suit. But what if the industry was more inclusive? What if it was less afraid of change? What if it allowed gay people, people of color, women, and minorities to tell their own stories, to be in charge—and what if the people accepted it? 

Better yet, what if it was always that way? 

Like the loud, harsh clack of a clapboard coming down on 70 years of motion picture history, Ryan Murphy’s revisionist manifesto Hollywood arrives Friday on Netflix with blinding, blaring, technicolor confidence. Hardly subtle, deliciously ostentatious, and admirably mischievous, the lavish seven-episode series is a love letter to Hollywood by way of 2020 think piece. 

It is messy and thrilling, upsetting yet profound; as uneven and as enthralling as any of Murphy’s big-swing, genre-contorting efforts: Glee, American Horror Story, or The Politician. But as with his soapy historical study Feud: Bette and Joan, it is a fastidious celebration of a glamorized time in Hollywood that mines nostalgia for modern meaning—a fragile undertaking swaddled in the dazzle of unmatched production design and talent pedigree.

Hollywood flops as often as it soars, but never rests in its grandiosity and ambition. The result is something escapist and frothy at a time when a retreat to a Hollywood happy ending is as alluring a fantasy as they come.

There is brilliant acting and there is bad acting. There are ovation-worthy ideas and there are off-putting ones. But, above all, there is reason to watch: It is gay, it is sexy, it is Patti LuPone.

Hollywood is a revisionist history of cinema’s golden age. It’s the 1940s in all their glamour and art: Casablanca! Citizen Kane! Alfred Hitchcock! Jimmy Stewart! Rita Hayworth! Cary Grant! It’s an era that’s been romanticized for so long that we’ve internalized it, morphing our own lifestyle aspirations to conform to its very heteronormative, very patriarchal, very (very) white ideas about sex and gender roles. These were ideas, however, that the industry was telegraphing, but not living in real life. Not at all. 

Murphy and his team’s rewriting of history pulls the curtain back, exposing the sexually fluid proclivities of the stars—leading men sleeping with male escorts; Oscar-winning actresses in bisexual affairs—and the damning, racist barriers to inclusion fortified by studio heads thwarting any opportunity for progress. 

Then, and here’s the crux of the whole thing: Hollywood changes that narrative. We glimpse the power dynamics inside Tinseltown’s gilded cage, and watch them being dismantled. 

Some of the players’ narratives are real, and some are fiction. That makes for an amusing parlor game for viewers, attempting to separate the true history from the imagined one, and should birth a cottage industry of “The Real Story Behind…” stories in the weeks to come. But these are actual people who never had the opportunity to live authentically or see true, equal opportunity in the industry. Expect there to be a split among those who find happier, reimagined fates for them a sweet gesture, and those who find it in bad taste. 

The story trains in on Jack (David Corenswet), a World War II veteran arriving wide-eyed in Hollywood, hoping some gumption and a jawline God shed a tear after creating will be enough to get him into the pictures. But he’s got a pregnant wife (Maude Apatow) to think about. Until he catches the eye of a casting director, he has to find some way to pay the bills. That cash flow comes surreptitiously from a gas station owner (Dylan McDermott), whose dashed Hollywood ambitions leave a soft spot for attractive dreamers like Jack—particularly ones who prove lucrative in his under-the-table prostitution business. A customer comes in for a fill-up, so to speak, and whispers the code, “I want to go to Dreamland,” and, well, you know the rest—and hopefully get the hardly nuanced metaphor about sex, power, sacrifices, and Hollywood.

This gas station business is without a doubt inspired by Scotty Bowers, the notorious L.A. hustler who died last year at 96, following a scandalizing, dishy documentary and memoir revealing the brothel he ran out of a petrol stand, sleeping with (allegedly) Cary Grant, Spencer Tracy, Bette Davis, Vivien Leigh, Gary Cooper, J. Edgar Hoover, and Rock Hudson. 

McDermott’s character, however, is not actually Scotty Bowers, a distinction that’s necessary because Rock Hudson actually is a character, played by Jake Picking. So is Henry Wilson, the monstrous, closeted Hollywood agent played by Jim Parsons, who trades blowjobs for representation. Elsewhere, real-life trailblazers like Hattie MacDaniel, Vivien Leigh, and George Cukor show up. Their presence, on the one hand, lends credibility and grounds the fantasia of diversity and acceptance that Hollywood builds to. It’s also morally amorphous.

Hudson was closeted until the day he died of HIV/AIDS. He didn’t get the happy ending imagined here, publicly coming out of the closet by attending the Academy Awards with his fictional black, gay screenwriting boyfriend, holding hands on the red carpet, and staying on track on his ascension to Hollywood hunk. There’s also no evidence that Wilson, as caustic and self-loathing as the devil himself when we meet him in the show, had a change of heart and becomes a LGBT crusader seeking amends and atonement. 

The wishful thinking is nice. But the bleakness of the reality shouldn’t be forgotten. There’s no clean place to land there, other than to consider both. 

But these are just a handful of Hollywood’s players, and not even the true engine of the plot. In typical Murphyland fashion, there is a dizzying constellation of characters and their errant business to keep tabs on. 

At the forefront is Patti LuPone’s Avis, the bored wife of a studio head (a scene-stealing Rob Reiner) who is first introduced as a client of Jack’s—hence all the press about the Tony winner’s explicit sex scenes that you’ve likely been reading—and eventually put in charge of the studio itself when her husband is incapacitated by a heart attack. 

If it’s novel now to think of a female in charge of greenlighting projects and making commercial creative decisions, imagine it seven decades ago. And Avis shakes things up. With a casting director (Holland Taylor, perfect) and producer (Joe Mantello, heartbreaking) as her conspirators, she greenlights and positions as the studio’s next blockbuster a film called Meg, with its historically diverse creative team intact. 

That means half-Filipino director Raymond (Darren Criss), black screenwriter Archie (Jeremy Pope), black leading lady Camille (Laura Harrier), and Jack and Rock in supporting roles. It takes willfulness to bulldoze the fortresses that bar progress. That is invigorating and moving to watch, especially as Hollywood dances between comedy, camp, earnestness, and tragedy with all the glee, if you will, that you’d expect from a Ryan Murphy production. 

There’s sex—hot sex, gay sex, interracial sex, intergenerational sex—and there’s farce and there’s a wardrobe and set budget to sweep you away like a riptide. 

There are scenes from Parsons and LuPone that will win them Emmys. Mantello and Taylor have a two-hander together that shattered me into so many pieces I am billing Ryan Murphy the cleaning fee. I worry that even with his Netflix money it won’t be enough—that’s how good it is. 

Mira Sorvino and Queen Latifah give so much in their scenes as guest stars that you wish they were in more but are grateful for the flawless blips of bliss, while Michelle Krusiec as Anna May Wong, the first Chinese American movie star, is the epitome of an actor making a monumental moment out of limited material. 

Criss solidifies his leading-man status—he’s captivating in every scene, even without much to do—and Corenswet brings glimmers of gravitas to eye candy. But the rest of the kids nearly torpedo the whole damn thing, they’re so miscast. The scenes with the older generation are so rich and such an utter joy to watch, it only makes the woodenness of performers like Picking and Harrier all the more egregious. Thankfully, there’s a larger message to it all that acts as absolution.

If Hollywood were a treatise on how society interacts with movies and TV both then and now, then the thesis could likely be boiled down to an early conversation between Raymond, Criss’ director character, and Dick, Mantello’s studio exec. It’s Raymond’s dream to direct a movie starring Anna May Wong. Dick kills the pitch, saying no one will pay to see a movie with an Asian lead, or any lead of color. 

Raymond doesn’t stand for that. How does he know? No one’s tried. “Sometimes I think folks in this town don’t really understand the power they have. Movies don’t just show us how the world is, they show how the world can be. If we change the way that movies are made, you take a chance and you make a different kind of story, I think you can change the world.” 

It’s not a stretch to argue that as the mission statement of Murphy’s entire career. He’s proved it time and again, from Glee to Pose: Bring the marginalized out of the margins and watch how things change. Someone just has to be the one to do it.

In essence, Hollywood sees Murphy dramatizing the progress that he played a part in catalyzing today, but imagining if it had come at a different turning point in cinema history—70 years ago. More tantalizingly, he raises the question of what society today might be like had it actually happened then. 

Is it a little self-congratulatory? Sure. But, hey, that’s showbiz, kid. 

[intruality-overlord]

Why Are We (Best) Friends?

Warnings: Excessive swearing, alcoholism, mentions of drugs, drug use, suggestive humour, implied sexual content (no smut), some gore descriptions. Generally, Remus stuff.

Taglist: @blogging-time @veraisnotfine @littlestr @jessibbb @ibroken-butterflyi @hi-its-tutty @idkanameatall

Let me know do you want to be added or removed from the taglist! Updates every Wednesday/Thursday. Don’t worry I’m posting the second half of this chapter later today cause it’s too long all in one part and Tumblr doesn’t seem to like it when I post stuff too close together. So have the fun with the fluffy part!

Chapter Three 1/2: Duck

Loosen Up

May 26th, 2017.

Tiny little sips did Patton take, swishing the liquid around before swallowing each drop. Cautious. Procrastinating. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Why are you so embarrassed? I’ve seen you so drunk that if you weren’t a figment of imagination, the police could have been outlining your dead body in chalk the next morning. You don’t have anything to be shy about,” he said. Patton glared at him. “That’s exactly what’s so embarrassing!” He shrieked. “It’s bad enough knowing that happened! I don’t want a repeat!”

“That’s the whole point of this, Pat. I’m here so you don’t get completely pissed like that again. And if you do, I’ll stop you from being stupid.”

…

“I’m always stupid,” Patton mumbled into his next sip. Albeit, it was a slightly bigger sip. Remus would have argued with Patton, but he hadn’t planned a heart to heart and felt rather unprepared. At least he knew Patton had already drunk enough to not think too hard about what he was saying. Baby steps.

Turned out the snowball effect settled in soon after that. The more Patton drank the less he thought to regulate himself so he drank more. Remus discovered that night that Patton became efficiently, drunkenly relaxed at five cans of… whatever collection of concoctions Patton had mixed up.

“Wait Wait Wait Wait Wait! If I’m a figment of Thomas’s imagination, but you’re Thomas’s imagination, does that mean you could, like, make me,” Patton made a charade of what would have resembled an explosion if he still had his fine motor skills intact, “poof? If you wanted?”

Patton had had six cans and was on his seventh.

Remus blinked at him. There was some semblance of sense in that thinking, and Remus did love a good “what if?” question. “I don’t know...” he said. “Why don’t you try?!” Patton exclaimed, bouncing in his seat. Remus for a split second thought of how adorable Patton’s excitement was—

“Hell no!” He snapped. Patton whined. Sulking, he flopped back down in his chair like a voodoo doll that had just been angrily launched into a wall. “You’re s’posed to be fun!” Patton chugged the rest of his can and didn’t bother to put it down. Instead, it just toppled and rolled out of his lax grasp.

“If it worked then you wouldn’t exist anymore!”

“So?”

Remus also discovered that Patton’s attitude was just as bad as Virgil’s. At least Remus knew his limits now for future reference.

“Well if you stopped existing you wouldn’t know if it worked or not because you wouldn’t exist,” Remus reasoned, and he wanted to scrub his tongue with soapy sandpaper.

“...What if we tried it on Roman?”

“Damn you, that’s tempting.”

Multimedia

August 30th, 2017.

“Heya Remus—” Out of all the anarchy encapsulated in the room, Patton instantly fixated on the razor. The blade devilishly glinted. Patton glared at the offending mustache slayer.

“Don’t you dare.”

“Patton! I was just—“

“Leave the moustache alone!” Patton pounced, lunging for the shaver, and Remus shrieked a very manly shriek. Plumes of white flew free from Remus’s fringe in the kerfuffle. “Your mustache is special and perfect just the way it is!” Patton said. Wrestling the razor from Remus’s grip, which on further inspection was definitely for shaving your legs and not facial hair, and confiscated it.

“I know!”

What?

“That’s why I need it for my self portrait!”

What?

What looked like very grainy flour caught in Remus’s fringe made it appear silver, enhancing the pearly whites that split his lips into a beaming grin. Patton swore his teeth looked slightly pointier than usual. Each syllable rolled around Remus’s tongue exaggeratedly long before he spat it out. And the crazed look in his eyes looked especially crazed, circled in red like a big mistake.

Oh, he’s high.

Wait, what?

Hooking an arm around Patton’s, a stark gentlemanly contrast to Remus’s distinctly wild hair, bloodshot eyes and suddenly apparent absence of a three piece suit, and yanked Patton to stand before his work in progress.

“I’d ask what you think, but it’s not quite finished,” he said, giddy.

Paint was splattered all across the canvas.

And across the floor, and the walls, and the ceiling, and after spending five minutes in the room Patton somehow had some too. (Remus was always more of a catcher than a thrower. Terrible aim.) Focusing on an individual area, it looked like a nonsensical mess. There were handprints, globs of textured brush strokes, and scratch marks. Acrylic and watercolour paints with salt adding texture. Swatches of silk, sprinkles of glitter. The only orderly aspect of the piece was the fact it stuck strictly to a dominantly green colour pallet with accents of blue. Even so, there were hints of pinks, yellows, and purple. Tasteful hints, mind you. Oh, there’s some red, too—

“Is that blood?”

“A happy little accident involving a blunt pallet knife. That’s all.”

As a whole, though, when you stepped back it clearly was Remus’s self portrait. Amongst all the chaos, his outline was clear and confident. Insane smile and all. (Except for his moustache, which seemed to be the final missing piece.)

Patton looked closer. Woven in were more intricate details. Passages from Alice In Wonderland and Little Shop Of Horrors (“You love her madly, don’t you, shmuck” was one he picked out)— other books, musicals, and movies Patton couldn’t name— fit seamlessly into the collage. Everything was written in different, swirly fonts or magazine clippings.

Then he looked even closer. Patton squinted.

“Is that fucking dick glitter?”

“Green and blue duochrome dick glitter!”

It was the most accurate self portrait Patton had ever seen (or ever would). A massacre of common sense. It was his internal tumultuous frenzy in a visual medium. A celebration of self love in a uniquely Remus way.

“I’d frame that and put it on the fridge,” Patton said genuinely. Remus preened. “It’s… exceptional, really.”

But did Remus really have to sacrifice his adorable face caterpillar for it?

“I can’t wait to add the finishing touches!”

“Are you really going to put your own moustache on it?”

Remus burst into rambling only a select few could comprehend. Sentences clumsily overlapped each other as Remus spilled the direct translation of his thought process. And within that mess, the words were crushed like a Pepsi can (Yes, Remus could taste the difference between Coke and Pepsi. Yes, he purposefully drinks only Pepsi), squishing the vowels out of existence. In Patton’s case, though, he was able to translate the garbled soup of consonants roughly to, “One does not simply soil the sacred authenticity of multimedia!”

“Can’t you just...” Patton shrugged. “I don’t know— use some fake fur or something instead?” He argued.

“Ugh,” Remus grunted, “That sounds like something Roman would do. His art is so flat and boring! Always so play it safe, never experiments,” He ranted passionately, throwing his arms in all directions. “And there’s never enough glitter!” He scoffed. Pent up energy drove him in stomping circles. “Too much glitter makes it look childish,” he said, tone swinging into a mock impression. “There’s no such thing as too much glitter! I don’t care if it gets everywhere. I’d happily leave glitter stuck in my teeth rather than some stupid, diet of the week salad! And Roman wants to claim he’s the gayer one?! Huh, bullshit.”

Patton checked if his ears hadn’t conked out. They screeched like microphone feedback. (His ears and Remus.)

“Roman’s such a bitch— I fucking hate him so goddamn fucking much, the cunt.” Remus thrust his hand into the nearest paint can, and readied the colourful grenade.

Patton grabbed his wrist, hastily. Globs of acrylic paint slipped from his fist, reuniting with a green puddle soaked into the carpet.

“Uh-um,” Patton cut in, improvising a distraction, “Why don’t we have a drink and watch, uh... ah, um— Ratatouille?” Fizzing with nerves, Patton cracked a hopeful smile. One Remus couldn’t help mimicking. “A drink of water!” Patton quickly corrected, “and Ratatouille.”

(“Giggle water?”

“Emu, no.”)

“I love that movie!” Remus said, clapping his hands. More green sprayed them in Remus’s brazen excitement.

It worked. Patton breathed a quick sigh of relief.

Beaming, he cupped Patton’s face in his cold, sticky, stained hands. “You always have such good ideas!” Remus gushed. That was a rare, rare compliment. Patton's face blazed. For a second he was sure the paint would evaporate from his skin.

No, his wine red complexion was hidden.

Green handprints drying on his cheeks, Patton watched the movie with Remus just like that. After, Remus finished the painting properly. Instant grief followed shaving his moustache. But when he grew it back, he was ultimately happy with the results.

Next Chapter:

[nebulastarss]

Because it's pride, I'm gonna post my Danganronpa sexuality headcanons.

I personally headcanon every main protag as pan ace. That is mostly because we play as them and I'm an asexual but I'm also a multi shipper. Being ace doesn't mean you can't feel love.

However, I also have reasons for this by looking at their characters. Makoto is baby. He is also a dork. He is an asexual because I can't imagine him doing it. Hajime is a little more complicated. If we look at chapter 3, Hajime gets stuck under Mikan twice. I don't know about how attraction works, but I'm pretty sure, even if you're suffocating, this would be enjoyable. Fuyuhiko's line doesn't count because he was making assumptions. He's either homosexual or asexual. Then Shuichi. This antisocial, depressed, anxious mess is very clearly uncomfortable with Miu. Especially with her FTE. Then in the love hotel scenes, you can also find him being awkward and just trying to make the other happy. (they may not be Canon but they're still in character)

I think that Komaru is lesbian and we are never fuking mentioning Him.

Dr2 first. Nagito is big gay mess the 1st, he has at least 1 gay panic a day. Ibuki is canonly bisexual I think. Imposter is demi. Peko is bi with a male preference and Fuyuhiko is straight. Mikan falls for anyone who's nice to her due to her past so... pan.

Mahiru is bi with a female preference. Hyoko is a lesbian with a whole lotta internalized homophobia. Teruteru is also bi, also with a female preference. Chiaki is pan. Akane is... Straight or bi. Nekomaru is straight. Gundham is demi. Sonia is pan. Kazuichi's bi with a female preference and, somehow, more internalized homophobia than Hyoko.

I think that's all of dr2 so on to dr1!

Monda and Ishimaru are absolutely gay for eachother, that or queer platonic. Hifumi is... I have no fukig clue, I basically blocked all but his death scenes out of my mind because he makes me uncomfortable.

Leon is straight, Hagakure is straight, Sayaka is bi, Asahina is a lesbian, Sakura is pan, Kirigiri is demi, Togami is gay with all the internalized homophobia, and Toko is bi with male preference. Chihiro is straight, Celeste is bi, Junko is straight and Mukuro deserves better then what she got, inc**t is not winc**t, but I think she's pan.

Onto drv3!

I know what some people will say, "Kaito said something homophobic in that one trial or something!" And to that I say, the dude was raised by his grandparents, calm down. He probably doesn't know any better. Thus, Kaito is bi with internalized homophobia.

Lots of internal homophobes in here.

-_-

Anyway, Maki is demi, Kokichi is big disaster gay the 2nd, Kaede is pan, Tenko is another giant disaster gay, but in lesbian form. Himiko is pan ace. Angie... No idea, I never learned much about her (except that she was supposed to be Christian) but she's probably not fully straight.

Rantaro is pan, Ryoma is straight, Kirumi is aro ace, Korekiyo is bi, Gonta is ace, and I think that's it. Notice that the characters got progressively gayer as the games went on.

I would do one on Danganronpa zero but I never read it. Or super Danganronpa another 2, I think it's called. Its a fan game from Korea.

[insufferable-know-it-all-blog]

A Ranking of the Gayest American Girl Dolls

When it comes to lesbian subtext in the American Girl series, there's so much to unpack. Today I'll be discussing the 6 girls I deem the gayest.

Honorable Mentions

Felicity

Tomboy and horse girl. Has a companion doll. She hates learning etiquette. The Jiggy Nye redemption arc in her series is better than Snape's redemption arc, in my opinion. You may think she’s gayer than an honorable mention, but I think her traits read as “see this is a good and interesting colonist! She’s not like other girls uwu” as opposed to gayness. I am open to debate on the matter.

Addy

Her stories are much higher stakes than most of the other dolls', so the most time we have for subtext comes in her short stories and in her relationship with her friend Sarah. For example: 

An enemies-to-lovers fic where Addy and Harriet are grown up could be veeeery interesting though.

Certified WLW (women-loving women)

6. Molly

Molly's lesbianism is more quantifiable than some of the other dolls. Some contributing factors are:

- bad at math

- lots of internalized self-loathing

- obsessed with her teacher Miss Campbell/daydreams about how pretty she is/snoops into her love life

- her OUTFITS

5. Josefina

Josefina Montoya is a Historical Doll (now called BeForever) from 1824 living in what would later become New Mexico. She's a soft girl with aspirations of becoming a healer. She's scared of goats and has a cool aunt, Tía Dolores.

Much of her stories revolve around adjusting to life after the death of her mother, and her relationship with Tía Dolores.

I don't want to gloss over this: there's a lot of discussion (in the stories and in the historical information at the back of each book) of colonialism and America's treatment of the west and those who live there.

There's also a fair amount of domestic tasks, playing music, and admiring flowers.

tldr; Josefina was the original cottagecore lesbian

4. Julie

If Molly's gayness isn't quite subtext, Julie's is canon. She's so lesbian-coded by way of lesbian stereotypes that I'm surprised a pride flag doesn't come with her accessories.

Julie petitions to join the boys basketball team, becomes an environmental activist, runs for student body president, and attends a Presidential debate. Her mom also has some very gay vibes, being a recently-divorced woman starting a career by opening a resale shop.

Julie lives in 1970s San Francisco and uses her privilege to lift up the voices of others and hold those in power accountable. Julie and her pet rabbit said gay rights.

3. Lindsey

Lindsey is the first Girl of the Year, released in 2001. She was also the first Jewish American Girl Doll. The title of the second chapter of her book is "What a Mess!" A mood. She’s not as well known so I’m going to fill you in a little bit more than with other dolls.

Lindsey is a flaming ball of chaos that ruins everything important to her family (according to herself.) Her story kicks off with her being disgusted to learn that her school is holding a "pet parade," which entails dressing pets up in human clothes and parading them around. She prepares a speech for her class to tell them off, but her teacher shuts her down. Lindsey doesn't take this well. She snatches an iguana and climbs up a tree in protest.

She plays the trumpet in her school band. One day she asks her band teacher if he has a girlfriend and she's very sad to learn he's single. How can he be happy without a woman to take care of him? Projecting much?

Lindsey also befriends a girl who is often bullied in school, cries in the bathroom (a gay ritual), and is told by her uncle, while dancing at her brother's bar mitzvah (post-Matzo ball food fight) that she is not a worm, and despite her chaos, is very loved.

Lindsey knows what she values and will throw food at your face or climb up a tree if you disrespect her. She also craves validation because she feels like a failure due to her unconventional approach to life. A lesbian icon in the making.

2. Kit

Kit spends six books telling you to fuck off with your gender roles, thank you very much. There's a lot of focus on Kit's life as a reporter and what her growing up during the depression will mean for her future expression of identity.

One part of her books that highlights Kit's relationship with gender roles and heteronormativity is when Ruthie reads fairy tales because she likes princesses, but Kit reads Robin Hood because she likes how he steals from the rich to give to the poor and tricks a sheriff. While Kit could become a case of "I'm not like other girls," I think this is avoided by her close friendship with Ruthie. She doesn't necessarily look down on traditional women's roles, she simply has other ambitions.

So yes, this part of her story is important, but what really sells it for me is her longing for adventure and her passion for baseball and Amelia Earhart.

Also? Her bomb outfits.

At one point, Kit gets anxious and hides under her porch. A lesbian oasis.

Kit is a practical and clever young lady with a bright future ahead of her. Keep up the great work, you icon.

1. Samantha

I have read, with my own two eyes, people calling Samantha a homophobe. Please.... I am so tired. Do not underestimate her like that. Let's dive in to the biggest lesbian of the bunch: Samantha Parkington.

Okay so first of all her series begins with her falling out of a tree and sassing her sexist Grandmary. From there, she grows close to Cornelia, her Uncle's girlfriend, who is involved in the fight for women's rights in the city. Samantha is heavily influenced by her and through the books, develops many of the same opinions.

When an Irish girl (Nellie) moves in next door to become a servant to Eddie Ryland's family, Samantha befriends her and teaches her to read. She never speaks down to Nellie or looks at herself as a savior, she just acts on what she thinks is right. The "Looking Back" sections of Samantha's books cover topics like social progress for women, the wealth gap, the treatment of servants, and the disparity in education between classes.

While Samantha follows in Cornelia's path, she also forms her own ideas. For instance: Samantha wins an essay contest with her essay on progress in American factories, and why America is excellent for such progress. When she shows Nellie her winning essay, Nellie tells her that it doesn't represent the truth of factories. Samantha sets out to uncover the truth about child labor that many Proud Americans have kept hidden. She decides she can't read her winning essay, so she changes it and calls out those who condone unfair labor in factories.

Samantha respects every person she comes across and always sees herself as an equal, not a superior. (Except her asshole neighbor, Eddie Ryland. He can choke!) Like Julie, Samantha uses her privilege to bring accountability to oppressors and fight for what's right.

Samantha loves women and won't rest until they all live safe, healthy, and happy lives. She questions the status-quo. She seeks revenge on the men who have made girls' lives hell. And she really loves her Uncle Gard and Aunt Cornelia. And climbing trees.

I imagine Samantha growing up and moving to New York City, hanging out in lesbian-owned speakeasies, and becoming a Mae West stan.

I'd love to hear your thoughts about American Girl subtext on twitter! If you enjoyed this article, please share it with a friend or two! Thank you for supporting an independent writer and American Girl stan.

[askovertherainbowblog]

*NOTE: This is a 100% trans inclusive blog. The above chart reads “LGB” because its focus is on orientation.

Hello munchkins. Let’s get on the same page.

No single phrase, not even “diarrhea in the pool,” raises collective eyebrows faster than No, I’m not confused, I’m not experimenting; I’m bisexual.

Western culture has a passionate relationship with binaries. Good and Evil. Progressive and Conservative. Gay and Straight. A cultural shift towards acceptance of either end of The Binary™ has burgeoned since the late aughts. Feminism, same-sex marriage, socialist memes… all have gone mainstream. You can be anything as long as you stay in your lane. But so help you if you refuse to occupy a single role. Bisexual? You want twice the sexual options as everyone else? Don’t be so greedy!

I’m uniquely familiar with binaries, being bisexual, bipolar, and bilingual. (I’ve tried training myself to be ambidextrous to round it out, but my left hand is shit at printing.) I’m used to jettisoning myself between opposites, passing through many stages along the way. This is why I know binaries are crap.

If you’re “woke,” you’ve probably discussed the difference between binaries and spectrums. Maybe over a few beers. You’ll hear over and over again that sexuality, like many other things (notably mental health) is really a spectrum comprising a wide range of nuanced identities. I can attest that there are days when I feel “gayer” than others. The way my attraction to either gender manifests isn’t always the same, either.

Something about the spectrum theory hasn’t translated to the mainstream yet. Bohemian Rhapsody could barely bring itself to dedicate three minutes to the complexity of Freddie Mercury’s sexuality. Top 40 pop ballads by Rita Ora and Katy Perry mention being “open-minded” and wanting to try “just one taste” of the forbidden fruit—hope my boyfriend don’t mind it! And yet the bi population, per a range of studies, seems to outnumber the rest of the LGBTQIA+ acronym. (Although personally I like to think there are way more lesbians out there than the above chart lets on; we need More Lesbians In All Facets Of Life.) So, why is Bisexual such a dirty word?

Well, for one thing, people like to make sense of the world through labels. Labels can be good! The disenfranchised, the lonely, the marginalized, all can find a sense of belonging in attaching a label to their identities, and by extension finding a community of like minds. But labels and nuance are at odds with one another, and identity is all about nuance.

I’ve reflected at length on labels because of my mental hiccups (I refuse to call myself “neurodivergent” because it sounds like a cult in a teen dystopian romance novel). Disparate iterations of Toto vie for centre stage in my psyche, and they’re what I’d call complicated. Bipolar Toto has two featured characters: when I’m manic I’m armed to the teeth with motivation, energetic, a chronic insomniac, sociable, reckless, overconfident, optimistic, and for some reason desperate to sing karaoke (I hate karaoke); when I’m depressive I’m lethargic, judgmental, defeatist, insensitive, always tired, and prone to wearing my hair straight (I look better with curls).

But on the few occasions I’ve chosen to confide in friends about my mental troubles, I’ve gotten some pretty disconcerting demonstrations of support. A sample conversation:

TOTO – I’m not sure how to talk about this, but you might have noticed some odd behavior on my part lately. I’ve been prescribed Lexapro because my doctor thinks I might be bipolar. It’s a bit difficult adjusting to a new medication.

FRIEND – Wow, I think I might be bipolar too!

TOTO – Really? Thanks for sharing! When were you diagnosed?

FRIEND – I’ve never seen a doctor about it. I just know I’m often moody.

TOTO – That’s not really what being bipolar is about. But if you’re concerned you should know there’s no shame in seeking help. I’ll be happy to go to the clinic with you for support.

FRIEND – No, no, I don’t need that. You don’t understand. No one does. I’ll be happy one minute and sad the next.

Ad nauseam…

Look, everyone’s mental health journey is their own. Far be it for me to revoke self-diagnoses. My story simply goes to illustrate the oversimplification of traits associated with the “bipolar” label. In the popular imagination, bipolar begins and ends with rapid-fire mood swings.

So it could be posited that people feel alienated by bisexuality because, similarly to the above, its attendant traits are too diverse to slap on a label. So many body types to feel attracted to! Which is your favorite, dammit?

The label conundrum is one theory. I’ve heard it discussed over beers many times. But it’s not my favorite theory. Here’s what I really think: biphobia stems from jealousy; a fear that we have more sexual options, so we’re having more fun. We’re greedy and oversexed and too uninhibited.

And it’s all true. I’m not supposed to admit it, but I have to unburden myself. Hereafter follow the confessions of a bisexual with too many options:

Pursuing men as a woman is confusing. It starts out all ego. Is he looking at me? Is he interested? What will he think of me if I reciprocate his interest too soon, or too late? Then you have to play it cool for a while. I’ll say something just suggestive enough, then back off. Let’s not speak for a few days. You do the heavy lifting. Once you start dating, it’s a minefield. You’re a kind, hard-working, down-to-earth guy. You lectured me about feminism and you jump at any chance to call the Kardashians whores for some reason. But I’m tired and your biceps make me smile.

Honestly? It’s exhausting.

Pursuing women as a woman is... extremely confusing. It starts out very subtle (because nobody knows how to make a damn move on each other). I wonder what that look meant. Am I imagining this tension? Then things abruptly turn sickeningly sweet and attentive. Wow, I love your bracelet! How is your entire family doing? I wish we were scissoring but we’re dissecting in excruciating detail a text your ex sent you three months ago. Then, even if you’re dating, you’ll never really be entirely sure where you stand. Why are we holding hands? You said you didn’t want to risk our friendship, that you’re not into women. Why are we making out? Are you just being nice? Are we fucking as disinterested friends? 

Honestly? It’s a nightmare.

Have you ever felt that anxious cold sweat creeping up your spine when interacting with someone you like? Now double it.

An alternate suggestion to experiencing attraction: Gay or straight, don’t lust after anybody. Go home and Skype with your mom, who misses you. Vent your erotic energy by writing explicit Star Trek fanfiction, then take a satisfied nap. Join a commune and enter into an asexual life partnership with a revolving door of nuns and vagabonds. They don’t even know who the Kardashians are.

More options ultimately mean more opportunities to make an asshole of yourself in front of the person you like; nothing more, nothing less. Savvy kids have been referring to this as the “disaster bi” phenomenon for a while now, if I’m correctly remembering my alignment charts. In other words, as far as I’m concerned, you can slap a label on me: under the title “Bisexual,” the sub-heading will read “Awkward as hell—gender irrelevant.”

Send help.

xoxo Toto

[nickireadstfc]

The Foxhole Court, Chapter 3 - Ball Is Life

In which things get progressively gayer, Neil has a boner over Orange Sportsball, Andrew’s Serious Issues™ continue and youth alcoholism has never looked this good.

Sounds good? Then it’s time for Nicki to read The Foxhole Court.

           Neil spotted the Foxhole Court long before they made it onto the stadium parking lot. Built to seat sixty-five thousand fans, it’d been placed on the outskirts on campus.

SIXTY-FIVE THOUSAND WHAT. To put this into perspective, the three biggest stadiums currently used in American lacrosse seat 30,000 (Harvard Stadium, Boston Cannons/Harvard Crimson), 34,000 (Navy-Marine Corps Memorial Stadium, Chesapeake Bayhawks) and 70,000 (Sports Authority Field at Mile High, Denver Outlaws).

It should look something like this (the Hard Rock Stadium in Miami, used in football, seating exactly 65,000):

And that’s the seating capacity for a shitty Exy team.

What the fuck. I’m beginning to realise that this sport may be bigger than I initially thought.

           Neil went up to the fence and stared through it at the outer grounds. (…) It made every hair on his body stand on end, and his heartbeat echoing in his ears sounded like an Exy ball rebounding off a court wall.

This is some Oliver Wood type of sportsball obsession, holy shit. Calm down, hombre.

(Will I make a Harry Potter reference every single chapter? Probably.)

And now, things get good:

           “What’d your girlfriend get you [for your birthday]?”

           Neil looked at him. “What?”

           “Come on, cute face like yours has to have a girlfriend.”

Okay, first I freaked out over this because he’s canonically cute omg this is the best th-

And then this happens.

           “Unless you swing my way, of course, in which case please tell me now and save me the trouble of having to figure it out.”

NICKY I LOVE YOU. YOUR ASS HAS JUST BEEN INSTANTLY PROMOTED TO SECOND FAVE.

Canon gay people!! I expected this but still!! This is chapter three and we’ve already got canon gay people!!

Am I biased because of my own queerness? Totally. Ya girl loves herself some good representation.

But hold on, my friends! This masterpiece of a scene isn’t done yet!

           Neil stared at him, wondering how Nicky could care about such things when the stadium was right there.

I am HOWLING. This may be the best sentence in this entire chapter.

BALL IS LIFE. BALL IS LOVE.

Neil has priorities, you guys.

           “I don’t swing either way,” Neil said. “Let’s go in.”

           “Bullshit,” Nicky said.

           “I don’t,” Neil said, and impatience put an edge in his voice. It wasn’t quite the truth, but it was close enough.

Spoiler alert: He’s demisexual, tumblr (and certain demisexual friends) have told me this as I got it wrong in my powerpoint slideshow post. Sorry about that.

S/o to all my demisexual peeps, and s/o to Nora Sakavic for representation beyond the usual. ❤

           The majority of the pictures looked like they’d been taken by one of the Foxes themselves. These were scattered anywhere they could fit and held up by tape.

Where is the Foxes’ snapchat I need to see it.

Nicky probably uses the Fox filter all the time. Andrew probably hits him for it.

           Exy was a co-ed sport, but few colleges wanted women in their lines. According to Fox lore, Palmetto State refused to approve any of the women Wymack asked for his first year.

*effie trinket voice* That is MISOGYNY!

           Nicky tapped the faces in the closest photograph. “Dan, Renee and Allison. Dan’s good people, but she’ll work you to the bone. Allison’s a catty bitch you should avoid at all costs. Renee’s a sweetheart. Be nice to her.”

Yet another quote I fucking knew by heart before even starting the books. Y’all really aren’t very creative in finding captions for your grunge-y pastel moodboards.

Also, if Renee is such a sweet soft angel (which is pointed out again later, so I believe it), the fuck is she doing with the Foxes? Has she killed a man with kindness? Am intrigued. When do we meet this murderous snowflake.

Next up, they enter the actual stadium and Neil proceeds to have the Biggest Sports Boner Ever over the court.

I can’t quote here because this description goes on for two pages, but I would like to point out that this is one of the most well-written passages of the book so far. I had the scene play in my head like a film, lights flooding the stadium, Neil imagining what it would look like flooded with people caught up in thrill of a game, his longing to play this court even if it will cost him his freedom. Chapeau, Miss Sakavic.

Also damn. And they said Kevin is the obsessed one.

(Cue generic “enemies discover they have more in common than initially thought and overcome their differences by playing sports together and become close friends” trope.)

(I apologize for calling this generic. I love it.)

           “Satellites can pick these [windbreakers] up in outer space,” [Neil] said.

           Nicky laughed at that. “Dan commissioned them her first year here. She said she was tired of everyone trying to look past us.”

Nicky laughs, my skin is cleared, my crops are growing and an angel gets his wings.

Also I will present this Dan with the Best Captain Ever Award instantly when we meet her.

           “You know we donate a portion of our ticket sales to charity? Our tickets cost a little more than anyone else’s because of that. Renee’s idea. Told you she’s pure gold.”

WE HAVE FOUND THE SECOND HUFFLEPUFF THIS IS NOT A DRILL. RENEE LET ME LOVE YOU.

And now it’s Orange Sportsball time!

           “Is Kevin not going to play today?”

           Nicky looked surprised that he’d ask. “Kevin only tolerates our court under two conditions: Alone, or with Andrew on it.”

Ah yes, thank you for reminding me, I had momentarily forgotten what level of EXTRA Kevin is on.

           “Thank you,” Neil said belatedly.

           “Huh? Oh no. Don’t worry about it. You can make it up to me some other time when the others aren’t around.”

           “Can you try and get ass when I’m not standing right here?” Aaron asked.

I thank our otherworldly overlords every day for the comedic gay blessing that is Nicky Hemmings.

           “If you take German as your elective here, just let me know and I’ll tutor you. I’m good with my tongue.”

For fuck’s sake, keep it in your goddamned pants.

Or, as Germans would say: Jetzt ist nicht der richtige Zeitpunkt, den Lörres reinzuhämmern, mein Freund. #erstmaldlrh

Also, is this Erik guy for real? He sounds p irrelevant. 10 bucks says they’re gonna break up.

They play a beautiful game of Orange Sportsball, Neil gets a glimpse of happiness (yay), and on their way out they are greeted by Kevin being Mad and Extra.

           Kevin got right in his face and tangled his fingers through the netting on Neil’s racquet. (…)

          “Forget the stadium. Forget the Foxes and your useless high school team and your family. See it the only way it really matters, where Exy is the only road to take. What do you see?”

          [bla bla long sequence in which Neil ponders on the fact that Exy is Everything™]

          “You,” Neil said at last.

          “Tell me I can have your game.”

          It wouldn’t do them any good, but Neil wasn’t going to get into that. “Take it.”

          “Neil understands,” Kevin said.

*”enemies discover they have more in common than initially thought and overcome their differences by playing sports together and become close friends” trope intensifies*

Do people ship those two? Because I can totally see that happening.

Speaking of shipping: Andrew is back!

           [Andrew] scooped the whiskey up and twisted the lid off.

          (…) “About time you stopped that, don’t you think? Abby’s going to beat me senseless if she realizes you’ve been drinking.”

          “Doesn’t sound like my problem,” Andrew said with a brilliant smile.

Daamn Andrew, back at it again with the youth alcoholism!

I’m not kidding though, manic Andrew scares me so much more than soulless Andrew did. I want my murder son back, not this fake-cheery, Joker rip-off version.

I’m temporarily comforted as we are reminded that Wymack is, in fact, the Best Person Ever:

           “Showers aren’t communal here. Coach put in stalls when he built the stadium. The board wouldn’t pay for it – they didn’t see the point – so it came out of Coach’s own pocket.”

LET ME LOVE YOU, YOU WONDERFUL HUMAN BEING.

Andrew makes fun of Neil for wanting to shower in privacy and for having a beat up body, Neil freaks out, yadda yadda, go die in a fire, you manic asshole.

Also, I know this isn’t what’s meant here, but I’m really liking the idea of trans!Neil. Scars on his torso? Always showers in privacy? Changed his identity and his name? Just saying.

They then drive over to Abby’s house, who also immediately claims a place in my too-big heart:

           “David? Shut up and make sure the vegetables aren’t boiling over. Kevin, check the bread. It’s in the oven. Nicky, table. Aaron, help him. Andrew Joseph Minyard, that better not be what I think it is.”

What. A. Mom.

For the record: I’m chipping in with Nicky’s betting pot as well. Those two have skipped long past the boning zone, straight into actual married couple land.

Everyone gathers round and eats some lasagna like the wonderful dysfunctional family that they are. Yay. Now I want some lasagna.

(Note to self: Do not read before dinner.)

Then, Neil is taken to his new home by Coach Wymack, and Nora Sakavic gets childhood abuse trauma spot on once again:

           Getting in the car alone with [Wymack] was the hardest thing Neil had done all day. Andrew was crazy, but Neil had an ingrained distrust of men old enough to be his father. He spent the entire ride frozen and silent in the passenger seat.

Kudos.

However, of course, Wymack is totally undeserving of distrust as he is the Best Person Ever, Coach of Champions, Owner of My Heart.

           “Use what you need, and take what you want from the kitchen. It’ll piss me off more if you act like a skittish stray cat than it will if you eat the last bowl of cereal.”

Happy sigh.

Nicki out.

[mer-birdman]

Valentine asks: 1-4, 11, and any other number you really want to do.

OOh! Thank you! Sorry I got to it late - I was EXHAUSTED yesterday and fell asleep at like 11:30, which is super early for me.

1. Your favourite non-canon ship?

Pfft, hon, don’t you mean all of them??? Like only a very low percent of my ships are canon lol.

Um, it’s probably between Obi/Shirayuki (Akagami no Shirayukihime — fun fact, there is more fanfiction for this pairing on AO3 than there is for the OFFICIAL CANON PAIRINGS LOOOOOL) and Sakura/Yue (CardCaptor Sakura — I mean, future obviously bc she’s like 12 in canon, but I just... *sighs wearily* fanfic writers bring their A game, and I have Feels™) and Rikuo/Zen (Nurarihyon no Mago — OKAY LOOK ANYONE WHO’S READ MY FANFICTION KNOWS THIS ONE ALREADY OKAY)

2. Is there a ship you didn’t like at first but ultimately started shipping?

Tōya & Yukito from CardCaptor Sakura (and whatever other CLAMP series they appear in). Confession: as a young weeb, I really liked Yukito and Yue, and my reaction to his/their relationship with Tōya was pretty much ‘NO, MINE’, haha. But now I am older and more mature and Gayer™, and I like them a lot more now. ^^

3. What is the rarest rare pair (that you ship)?

Oof, you don’t ask for much, do you? I... don’t actually ship a lot of rare pairs. Non-canon ships, oh fuck yeah, but rare pairs? Not a lot. Hm... This is a hard one. My rare pairs aren’t that rare, haha. I guess it’d be between Shinsō/Midoriya (Boku no Hero Academia - still need to read more, but I blame @msleilei and fanfiction for this one) and Sakura/Tomoyo (CardCaptor Sakura - just a bit, I haven’t really gotten into it but... yes, I approve, date your best friend, k i s s  h e r). Don’t really think those are particularly rare though... just smaller than some of the other ships in their respective fandoms, haha.

4. Name a popular ship you don’t get the appeal of.

Probably a number of the heterosexual ones tbh.

Um, being specific. I guess Break/Sharon from Pandora Hearts (which I guess wasn’t canon but is still pretty popular). I mean, they were definitely super close, but... I dunno, I just personally never really read it as romantic or anything. Just good friends. (However, Break/Sharon/Liam I could get behind, but I haven’t see any of that yet. And no I will never call him Reim. I’m sorry. I don’t care if that’s the official translation, it sounds gross and I will call him Liam until I die thanks b y e).

11. What is a character you can only imagine in one particular ship?

Haha, you ask me, a multishipper, this question.

Okay, being serious now. TBH, Gaara from Naruto. I mean, I’ve seen him once or twice in other ships, but I personally only ever really ship him with Naruto. (Speaking of which — F I C  R E C!  Exeunt by @spellfire01 is a super cute GaaNaru modern AU in progress. Featuring nonbinary Gaara, transboi Kankuro, sand sibs working in a flower shop, Hinata as Naruto’s best friend/ex/no.1 wingwoman and the two of them as teachers, and it’s just so fucking cute oh my god please read it).

23. Have you ever started shipping a ship because of the fans?

This one’s actually pretty recent, and definitely because of A-game fanfiction. Harry/Ron from Harry Potter, entirely and solely because of @lullabyknell‘s fic Or the Look Or the Words. Highly recommend it, it’s super cute and basically an AU where Ron and Harry go to the Yule Ball together because Friendship™ but then it gets a little gay and they kiss and it’s fantastic.

24. What is one scene you want to see happen for all your ships?

One (or both) people realizing just how fucking attracted they are to the other person. Sexually or just in general. I LIVE FOR IT. However, I’m not all that great at writing it, haha! I’ll work on that, because you bet your bottom dollar I’m gonna be making that happen in beautiful son eventually. 

Thank you so much for asking!! :D Again, sorry it’s a little late ^^

[the-huffle-buddy]

This Is Me

Well, Right here and right now I wanna share my story of the time that I realised that I’m gay. And I’m not gonna share it because you think I want to bluff, if not to inspire others to accept themselves as they are.

So... First of all I gotta admit that I have a crush on actor as Zac Efron, and you know...So for this famous crushes I have, I never imagine I would be gay, and no, realising you are gay it’s not like you wake up someday and you just feel it, no, believe me, you’ll have or you are probably having a battle with yourself, but give it time, you’ll figure it out.

So returning to my own story...

 I really tried so hard to get a boyfriend, the question of Why I want to get a boyfriend? It was just because I used to be that age were all my female friends start dating boys and I really feel that any boy was attrackted or even flirt whit me, but I don’t know why I never care about that much (And I really used to talk to myself lik: “You know you should care! you are single, shithead! Do something to get into a relationship!” I can say I try it hard to get a boyfriend ‘cause I really wasn’t that excited of the idea of a boy hanging with me, kissing me and hugging me. It just don’t sound as something cool for me...

But then I meet this girl with the most beautifl name I had ever heard: “Claire” She’s from California, San Francisco, (I really used to lie to my friends about the way I met her or how we get into everything we had done so this will be the first time I tell the truth about she and me...)

Well, as I was saying, I met her at an education fair abroad here in Mexico City. I won’t never understand the reasons that she gave me for looking for a school here in Mexico city, so it was a coincidence that I end up in the stand that she was, I run into her when I was looking on San Francisco’s stand, I was holding a brochure of the Golden Gate University, when she approached to me and talk to me, starting our first conversation with: “If you are looking for a University in San Francisco, you should try with San Mateo Colleges of Silicon Valley” my reaction was just to answer her with a “Hum?” obviously she did’t had a way to know if I speak or not English, ‘cause just in case ya’ll don’t know, my language is Spanish. So she was like “Sorry, I mean, perdon no sa bia que no hablabas ingles, lo que quise decir fue que...” I interrupted her to tell me what she had just told me in English and told her “No, no es necesario que me repitas, te entendi l primera vez, because  I have a great level in English language and by the way, I also can undestand a little bit of French” and well she help me looking for great colleges at San Francisco and I help her to look for great colleges here on Mexico city, by the way, she can speak spanish but she was still learning the language when I met her. By the end of the day, we went and got pizza (I was nervous about failing with my english infront of her... like really nervous I still can remember the feeling, But... why I was nervous? I nerver get nervous talking in English with no one, but why with she I get so nervous?) and get to know more about each other, we became friends, so friends that when I left the pizza restaurant I had already gotten her number.

Claire was the trigger that made me doubt my sexuality. ‘Cause that night after I arrived home all I could think about it was how her smile was the most electrifying thing I’d ever seen.

She found a College here i Mexico, and her aunt have a huge apartment in Reforma avenue, so when she settled down to be comfortable in her aunt's apartment, she call me for telling me the good new that she’ll be around Mexico city for a while

since that day we stayed in touch with each other casually, if casually means texting most days for hours at a time. Our banter was natural, and we had a huge crossover of interests and passions, yet wildly different upbringings and beliefs. 

The question of whether she was a cool new friend  or more kept me awake...

Our bond didn't feel quite sisterly or platonic. 

Flashes of her smile progressed to flashes of her wavy hair followed by the curve of her hips through her straight-leg pants.

I realized I had never fantasized about a guy this way, nor really ever felt comfortable thinking/dating guys.

Come to think of it, I stared at women’s bodies more than anything.

And right there I just realized that I had fallen in love with a woman...

I tried so hard to find out  the source of my attraction to her.. Anything besides being gay, please!

I look for photos with men that I try to found them attractive to convince myself that my love for her was just a mental battle attacking my character

While I was in my mental battle she was still beside me. For every ounce of hurt I faced, she offered a sea of love and gratitude. I paid attention to how our connection shaped me. In its purest sense, I felt awakened, more compassionate, and like my truest self. She strengthened and inspired me, creating a space for me to discover myself without judgment. She forgave my wrongs and suffered alongside me as I questioned everything, including her. 

Then one day she came out to me, and then she kiss me like it's the last time. In the moment she broke apart I felt that happiness invade my whole body I had never felt something so good ever in my life.

I still can remember what happen then.. I arrive to my hause and all the happiness she brought to me some moments ago suddenly turnes in to tears falling to my cheeks and talk to myself: “ If I’m evil, then I accept this and give up. I don’t want to live a lie. If by being honest I get banished to hell, so be it. I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry”

and the rest of what happened between Claire and me is history, but what is certain is that we hade the happier, gayer, cute that last for a long time.

But you know, all my friend know her al my very, very, very best friend Claire, and they really never met her in person, Because it was my first Lesbian relationship and I kidda of afraid of what people would think about me... So I ask her to keep our relationship as a secret... even onece, when people started to suspect she flirted with one of my men best friend (I got really nervous that time) but it work, people stop talkig

Then we broke up and I really want to speak with somebody so... I came out and tell about my broken relationship to mi middle school Best Friend... and well she is the most understanding person ever for topics as this one

when we broke up I try to find interest in guys againg. But I realize that no, I can’t stop starring at women body, I realized that it what I realy like, and I realized that I had fallen in love with my Best friend :/ (well now a days not more I had found someone else)

Since I told her I started to had to feeling more free on my sexuality, letting my closer friends know, even they know I used to had a crush on my middle school best friend...

the last person I told was my Childhood and life best friend and she was so supportive with me. Her support was the thing that I needed to admit that I was gay out loud.

Since then I embrace my sexuality out loud, and I am not ashamed for that! I learnt to love myself the way I am! To accept this difference that I am!

Thanks for reading it guys! I really want to Inspire other people that arequestioning or struggling with their sexuality, gender identity, or anything else, 

Know that I and so many who’ve gone before us are with you. Whatever your identity, you are lovable and wonderful and enough. I’m on the other side of some of these battles internally, but it’s still a challenge in the outside world. It’s OK. Dare to be yourself anyway. Find support, because we’re out there! And when you fall in love with anyone, you’ll know exactly what I felt for her

[republicstandard]

SJWs: New Harry Potter Movie for Kids Is not Gay Enough

L.Siren

It has emerged that some people are still obsessed with sexuality, rather than enjoying a good story about magic.

Despite more than a decade passing since the revelation that a fictional wizard took a bludger from his own team, social justice warriors are up in arms that The Crimes of Grindelwald will focus on grown men fighting with magic wands rather than homosexuality.

(adsbygoogle = window.adsbygoogle || []).push({});

I am a major Potter Head. I have the tattoos to prove it; (although they are a work in progress that I plan to finish- I’m Slytherin and proud!) Now a positively ancient 23 years old, I started reading these books when I was 12- the same year that Dumbledore was outed, in fact. The Potter series were the first books I ever read cover to cover, start to finish, and just like many other Potter fans I was lost when I thought the series was over. What fictional world could compare to that of Harry Potter?

As it transpired it was naive to imagine that a cash-cow would remain unmilked for long. The Potterverse keeps expanding, with stage shows and fantastic beasts and so on. So far, so money. But wait, what hue and cry? There’s a new movie called The Crimes of Grindelwald and it won’t be two hours of Johnny Depp kissing Jude Law on the mouth?

To those who say: "wait for it, it's a long saga": No. 10 movies (8HP, 2 Fantastic Beasts) and they failed to include any clear signs of Dumbledore being gay. His love with Grindelwald is literally THE point of the whole drama & they decide to exclude it. Screw them.

— Dana. 🌈🌍 (@Dana_Lurchliebe) February 1, 2018

Here we go again. There is no appeasing the SJW’s even when they are getting fan service movies made explicitly for them.

It would suck if there was just no lgbtq rep in the books and that was the end of it. But her saying Hogwarts Gandalf was absolutely gay, then dodging it deliberately, that is a different level of stink.

— GAIL SIMONE (@GailSimone) February 1, 2018

In an interview, Director David Yates stated Dumbledore’s sexuality would not be handled explicitly.

“But I think all the fans are aware of that. He had a very intense relationship with Grindelwald when they were young men. They fell in love with each other’s ideas, and ideology and each other.”

Oh David. That was a mistake. Of course this has many Potter fans outraged- many claiming the film is about ‘Dumbledore and his boyfriend who turned evil’ and therefore should be gayer.

In the book, Albus and Grindelwald became best friends as teenagers. Together they made plans to locate and secure all three Deathly Hallows and lead a wizard revolution to bring about the end of the international statute of secrecy- which, as of course you know, was the magic law that hides wizards from us muggles and our world. Alas, their friendship came to a tragic end after the two were involved in a three-way wand-fight with Albus’s Brother, Aberforth, that resulted in the death of their younger sister, Arianna. After the duel, Gellert left Britain. This is what we know from the Harry Potter novels, at least.

Rowling never mentioned them being in a relationship at all. You don’t have to be gay to be gay. It's fine to be a normal person that doesn't define your entire identity around what arouses you sexually. Even if the homosexual relationship was explicit, you can never be gay enough for some people.

So, Dumbledore's still only Hays-code gay and the abuser Johnny Depp is still Grindelwald. That's a hard pass from this Harry Potter fan on Fantastic Beasts 2 or whatever it's called.

— molly tanzer (@molly_the_tanz) February 1, 2018

In her novels, Rowling never mentioned Dumbledore’s sexuality. Never.

Rowling announced that Dumbledore was gay after a fan asked her if he “had ever loved anyone” at a Q&A in Carnegie Hall, 3 months after the final book had been published. She then continued to answer the fan’s question and said he had love Gellert Grindelwald, his childhood friend.

After the announcement, many fans were shocked, claiming they couldn’t see him that way. How did Rowling respond?

For once, flawlessly. Rowling was put on the spot in a Q&A session about Dumbledore’s sexuality. Whether it was her intention to still be talking about the wandcraft of gay warlocks over a decade later, only she can say. It takes all sorts. Once the wizard was out of the closet, there was no going back- but his sexuality is fundamentally unimportant to any story he appears in. As mentioned before, his sexuality was never explicit in the novels. Does that mean he’s not gay? No. No it does not. Perhaps Mundungus Fletcher had a penchant for buggery, maybe Mr. Weasley is hung like a mouse’s ear. None of this matters to the tale in the slightest.

In Kevin Smith’s 1995 movie Mallrats the central character, Brodie, is obsessed with superhero genitalia.

“It's impossible. Lois could never have Superman's baby. Do you think her fallopian tubes could handle his sperm? I guarantee he blows a load like a shotgun right through her back.”

In the 22 years since that movie was released, society has come around to be as fixated with what fictional characters do with their sex organs. It is behavior worthy of the Catholic church, as the permanent Social Justice present is similarly devoid of comedy. Or nuance, for that matter.

Hogwarts isn’t home, that Wizarding World world isn’t home if you’re going to erase the expression of HOMOSEXUALITY. DUMBLEDORE IS GAY AND WAS IN LOVE WITH GRINDELWALD. HAVE SOME CREDIBILITY @FANTASTICBEASTS!

— Francis Dominic (@frncissdominc) January 31, 2018

There are plenty of Movies and stories where the romance is a subtext. After all, people pay money to watch things blow up with a side order of smooching. The original Star Wars trilogy, The original Ghostbusters, even Pixar’s Anastasia complies with this basic storytelling format. All these movies have romance but love is not the main focus of the story, in some of them it is barely even shown at all. A New Hope has a love triangle played out with a kiss on the cheek, a jealous glance and Han Solo being a jerk. It is perfect. If The Crimes of Grindelwald uses this storytelling technique, deploying something subtle showing what they had- if anything other than friendship- I would be completely fine with that. The storyline would work with a nod to a gay history, and just as easily without- because the story isn't about Wizard Gay Pride 1922, it's about two of the toughest wizards of all time going tête-à-tête. Even with this blatantly obvious fact spelled out, you can guarantee though that Yates, Rowling, and the stars Jude Law and Johnny Depp are walking into a social justice sh*tstorm.

and on top of that now Dumbledore won't be "explicitly gay" and Rowling is mocking queer people who just wanted a bit of representation. yikes. it's like they want us to despise Fantastic Beasts 🚮 pic.twitter.com/cUO99SSTyN

— Riley J. Dennis (@RileyJayDennis) February 1, 2018

Need we be reminded that this is still a movie for kids? While a lot of people my age and older will gladly enjoy it without the company of our little ones, a lot of young kids will still watch it. Perhaps I am a relic of the past, but is it not the case that parents decide when and how to educate their children about love and sex and the different forms it takes- not Hollywood?

Although this whole affair is the fault of Rowling for chumming the waters with the gay wizards revelation in the first place, she has at least handled the resulting mess in the correct manner. It doesn’t matter about Dumbledore’s sexuality in the context of a movie about fighting with magic. Fantasy stories fare very poorly with the addition of moralizing messages of leftist politics. As we saw with the Last Jedi, pandering to Social Justice instead of making a good movie never works. Ever.

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I’m as much as a Potter fan as any- all I want is a solid movie that tells the story with the minimum of pandering fan-service. They have already changed so much. All I want is to see this part of wizarding history accurately portrayed. This is the story leading up to one of the greatest fights in the Potterverse.

It’s simply not a love story. Please, for the sake of movies, stop shoe-horning socio-political agendas into them- and that goes to both movie makers and goers alike. If nothing else let this be a lesson in speaking carefully. Rowling had an off-the-cuff remark that she thought would gain her a few wokeness points in 2007, and here we are today- still picking up the pieces, and still watching the identity politics chimera run amok.

Can't we just hope the movie doesn't suck?

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[book-of-torments-blog]

However more interesting and perhaps more pressing subjects present themselves as deserving of a more detailed discussion (the likes of which this blog purports to host), this fanatical obsession some have in regards to ‘pronouns’ and their supposed ideal usage in so-called progressive and politically correct circles bothers me to such an extent that I am forced to dwell on it a while.

Those of us begrudgingly associated with the ‘LGBTQIA+’ disaster of a monolith are well acquainted with the trend of seeing people who are not, in fact, gay or lesbian intrude upon our spaces, our debates, our lives, and co-opt our cause in their favour – that is how, indeed, a simple, already much too ambitious acronym transfigured itself into the aforementioned mess of ‘LGBTQIA+’ and its varieties, like the equally preposterous ‘MOGAI’ or ‘QUILTBAG’ denominations one sometimes stumbles upon while browsing Tumblr. It is a mystery that some will still refer themselves to ‘the gay community’ when it has been completely overrun by self-proclaimed ‘queers’, whose interests have no common points with those of actual homosexual people. Already when the ‘community’ was only about gay men and lesbian women there were issues of principles and priorities – and the deference was always to homosexual men’s needs, as one would expect in a misogynist society, for the link of oppression on the basis of sexuality (or any other, in that case) is evidently not enough to unite men and women under the same flag. Our sex is a barrier that, it seems, cannot be overcome. So if there was already a divide between homosexual men and women in the same movement, it is no wonder that the addition of ‘other sexualities’ and ‘genders’ as well as completely unrelated groups such as polyamorous straight people would only serve to fragment and confuse the movement and its objectives even further.

Compared to the larger implications of this entire process of decay, the pronoun mania seems relatively harmless, but the insistence upon modifying and bending language to the sole benefit of all these non-homosexuals over that of actual homosexuals has quite the impact on our lives. It is detrimental to homosexuals, women, and, most markedly, the intersection of these two groups: homosexual women.

It is also a problem that walks hand-in-hand with a whole bunch of other matters. The very denomination ‘queer’ serves as hindrance to female and gay needs and interests, as it erases the differences between sets of people who have very little in common to create the idea of homogeneity where there is none. A collectivity defined by non-definition is perhaps functional and cute in purely abstract debate to those who take pleasure in speaking of what does not exist for the purpose of pseudo-intellectual mental masturbation, but it serves for nothing in the real world. Rather, it serves to weaken the cohesion and limit the scope of political action the group in question could propose itself to pursue. The discussion of the emergence of ‘queer’ as an ‘umbrella term’ encompassing homosexuals, bisexuals, transgenders and all other groups deeming themselves ‘gay enough’ (or, worse, ‘gayer than’!) to belong as well as the effects it has merits an essay of its own. For now, suffice it to say that the manipulation of language done within a self-identified ‘LGBT’ community by those who are neither gay or lesbian – and with the naive support of gays and lesbians – is destructive and antagonistic to the very ideals that inspired the creation of a ‘community’ in the first place. It is destructive and it is divisive. How many hours have been spent in argument about the ‘validity’ of asexuals or demisexuals or straights who are ‘queering sex’, how much anonymous hatred spewed, how many women threatened for their views when we could have been focusing on securing better lives for gays and lesbians?

For something that sells itself off as extremely homogeneous to the point of believing a single word can translate the experiences of a fuckload of different people, the ‘queer community’ is also extremely invested in promulgating an infinity of micro-identities to those who fashion themselves its members. It presents the paradox of one word meant to represent gays, lesbians, bisexuals, transgenders and the never-ending list of made-up sexualities as well as a plethora of imagined words allotted to each, both as an identifier of sexuality as well as of ‘gender’. Basically, a collection of (as has already been pointed out in some posts circulating the Tumblr-verse) socially-stunted narcissists with self-esteem issues wanting to belong to something that will make them look ‘cool’ and important when they themselves have no characteristics of their own to stick out from the bunch. Even negative attention counts as attention, of course, so the sheer absurdity of their project isn’t a problem – rather, even if people mock them, they’ll get the attention they so crave.

It takes a very sad and bland or very disillusioned and confused person to actually believe that being called ‘xe/xir’ is an inalienable human right or related to radical revolutionary praxis in any way.

Let us suppose, for a second, that a microcosm of, say, forty students in a higher education classroom decides to state their ‘preferred pronouns’ so that their teacher and colleagues can refer to them as they would like – in third person, meaning, when these students aren’t even a part of a given conversation since it’s uncommon to refer to someone in the third person if they are standing right in front of you. Suppose a nice portion of them goes by fantasy pronouns, these ugly products of fancy that have no foundation on any kind of grammar. Suppose the same teacher has another seven classes to teach, containing around forty other students each and the same percentage of individuals who go by completely unique, fabricated pronouns. Do people deem themselves really this important to want to hang a teacher who might slip up and call the tall and bearded, deep-voiced and nut-scratching queer aplatonic pansexual wolf-kin student a ‘he’ instead of ‘furself’, or – and I recoil just to imagine it –, ‘she’?

Our brains do not, unfortunately, possess unlimited storing space. Memorising the ‘preferred pronouns’ of a handful of people who want to be seen as freakish (as if gay people haven’t been insulted with ‘queer’ precisely because considered ‘freakish’ by society at large…) simply isn’t as important as, well, anything else one might think of, really.

But this very appellation proves absurd from the start: preferred pronouns? Will we start ‘preferring’ verbs and definite articles next?

Grammar isn’t fashion, it is not a style one chooses or ‘un-chooses’ according to one’s mood on a given day. As much as we can and must debate normative grammar, there are certain structures that must be there and used in certain ways to render someone’s speech intelligible to others. Pronouns, as other classes of words, serve a specific function within sentences. Personal (I, she, he...), possessive (mine, hers, his…), and reflexive pronouns (myself, herself, himself…) have a purpose in avoiding repetition and clarifying one’s speech. They work and we understand one another because language is a code, a system we share, whose elements and knowledge we have in common as a community of speakers – of English, in this particular case; I will touch upon some other languages soon. Even if separated by social class or levels of formal education, we can still understand one another because the language we share is the same. We are free to choose the vocabulary we like and express ourselves as we like, for language is an extremely productive tool as can be seen by the variety of ways one can say roughly the same thing using different words and constructions, ranging from the most banal, day-to-day kind of discourse to the most extraordinary, surprising poetic one. That much we choose.

But pronouns? Will a trend of relative pronouns arise as well? The running ‘whom’st’ve’-type jokes are amusing, but just because some kids on the internet are fooling around with them doesn’t mean they can change the structure of the language at will, nor do they intend to. No one takes this seriously, apart, perhaps, from curious linguists investigating the creativity and possibility of this kind of construction, but no one will advocate for this to be included in a grammar book, for instance. Maybe in some good many years, if the meme catches on and becomes a part of popular vernacular, sure, though perhaps unlikely seeing as language tends to simplify itself for the sake of practicality rather than the other way around. We could talk about language change (I will avoid the term ‘evolution’ so as to not provide further fuel to the fire of linguistic debate…) throughout the years, but let us do so returning to the topic at hand.

The word ‘preferred’ already indicates that this is a very conscious imposition on the part of those who claim ‘their’ pronouns (as if someone could own a particular set of words...). It marks a desire for forced linguistic change and, while languages do change constantly, they also do remain, charmingly, constant. These aren’t concepts I’ll be able to explain to the uninitiated in the associated theories in one paragraph, but one is invited to consult the work of Ferdinand de Saussure for an introduction to linguistic problems and study, specifically his Cours de Linguistique Générale.

Nevertheless, let us resume some aspects thus: language is a system exterior to the individual but one which encompasses them; it is social and it exists in a specific linguistic community as a human creation. Its conception is ‘random’ inasmuch as there is nothing in a given object’s ‘essence’ that determines it must be called this or that. If that were not the case, we wouldn’t even have multiple languages to begin with, for all of them would call a house ‘house’ instead of ‘casa’, ‘maison’, ‘ дом ’ and so on. So, to those who say that language is all made-up and that fantasy pronouns should be acceptable on these grounds, I raise you this:  yes, language is made-up, but not by you or I. Try speaking to someone using only words you have invented, paying no mind to the syntactic and semantic structures of your native language. You won’t get far.

An individual or a group of individuals do not have what it takes to transform with willpower alone what has been crystallised in centuries of a language’s existence – linguistic changes cannot be imposed by someone, they happen as the speakers of a language develop their communication. There is a dislocation in the relationship between the signifier and its signified, but that dislocation cannot be forced; language adapts as needed by its users, not as desired by a cluster of them.

(Side-notes: 1. language mutability is a much more complex phenomenon than this essay can hope to convey in a few lines and linguistic science is still taking its turns with it. I would suggest the interested reader seek out Saussure to get an initial grip on linguistics and to follow up her research by trying to access articles on the matter being published today, if the academic language does not prove too daunting; 2. the inclusion of feminine forms in grammars that do not supposedly accept them is another debate entirely that warrants another discussion altogether. The case with French, lately, is an interesting case for study, if one can keep from trying to comprehend the French situation with Anglo-Saxon eyes and sensibilities.)

Besides, to fashion oneself a creator of words to be adopted by a large number of people, one must truly regard oneself as brilliant as, say, the likes of William Shakespeare, as he gave his particular contributions to what we understand as the English language today. I am sorry to say so, but a fifteen year-old furry on Tumblr is probably as far from Shakespearian genius as religion from spirituality – or Pluto from the Sun, if I must make myself clear and unambiguous to those with religious tendencies.

Not to mention the fact that, for something as powerful as the proponents of ‘identity’ as something sacred claim it to be, it stands on very shaky ground if the mere use of a pronoun unequal to their expectations poses any sort of challenge to this certain ‘identity’. Maybe these ‘inherent’ and ‘essential’ gender identities aren’t as sturdy as they are being called after all, if they are incapable of withstanding such harmless and easy contest. If your ‘identity’ starts with words rather than apprehensible reality, then it is clearly not as stable or natural as you would like it to be.

Since we’ve touched on the question of signifier and signified and how linguistic change implies a change in the relation between the two, what this pronoun craze (and the inextricably attached to it gender-mania) does is not that; the idea of creating pronouns as well as genders to go along with them does not shift the relation, but implode it. It ruptures significance as it completely disfigures whatever lines are set – lines which have a purpose, for delimitation begets identification, which, in turn, allows for action. If that sounds cryptic, allow me to break it down: delimitation and proper description of a given phenomenon (say, of the oppression of women, for instance) permits the identification of its root causes and, most importantly, its agents (therefore, the oppression of women is classified as a by-product of a heterosexist, misogynistic patriarchy which is enacted and supported by men, for it is males who benefit from the suffering and subjugation of females), so that those who take the brunt of it can organise and fight back with appropriate targets in mind instead of hazy, abstract enemies. A movement must have a target for its actions if it desires to succeed. Remove the necessary lingo that allows for analysis, criticism and discussion in search of a viable course of action/solution and you may well neutralize the group’s impetus for justice and their probabilities of success. Pretend men are women and all of a sudden the patriarchy is created by women and they are their own enemies -- the rhetoric possibilities of perversion are endless.

If the explanation still isn’t clear enough, one can imagine a chessboard in which the pieces retain their original values but are all disguised as pawns. One may go around wasting time and take all of them down one by one, in hopes of taking the king, if one is so inclined to the effort, of course. But a serious chess player knows that the end goal of chess isn’t to take all pieces, but to checkmate the king. The former might even come about as a consequence in trying to secure the latter, but, usually, one attempts to minimise effort and save time.

Speaking of effort, apart from demanding superhuman amounts of it on the part of those willing to indulge and use heaven knows how many different sets of nonsensical ‘pronouns’ for each person of their acquaintance, this little game of creating genders and pronouns and throwing fits if they are misused does make pawns out of all pieces, but in appearance only. It enshrouds information; it hides people responsible for certain things they should be held accountable for but are not – ‘queer’ serves to disappear the lines between actual homosexuals (gays and lesbians) as well as ‘quirky’ bisexuals or straight people, establishing a false equivalence of individuals within the group. This serves as an instrument to guilt those in disagreement as if they were ‘working against their own interests’, as if they were ‘traitors’ to the group. This is how lesbians have been denounced as the bogeyman of the ‘queer community’ – firstly, lumped in together with these ‘queers’ against our will, then shunned for daring not to agree with them, considered traitors of a cause that wasn’t ours to begin with and which actively antagonises us.

The mechanism behind pronouns and gender identity, however, has overarching consequences: it gives criminal men the perfect excuse to enter female restrooms where they can assault women; it gives them the perfect excuse to beg to be sent to women’s prisons, where they will be closest to the very portion of the population they terrorise. It skewers statistical data, which ceases to be a reliable source for analysis because, all of a sudden, female-committed crime starts to spike in areas that have always been the dominion of male perpetrators. Anyone paying attention will know that women aren’t magically acting as violent as men, they aren’t raping and murdering people in male rates or with the same amount of male cruelty; these numbers are a reflection of men masquerading as women, since this sham of personal, ethereal, holy identities – the motor for pronoun-fixation – has been warmly embraced by the mainstream without a single instance of questioning and in record amounts of time.

Television shows are still afraid to say the word LESBIAN out loud, but will showcase their ‘queer’ and/or ‘trans’ characters without fear of censoring, if not in earnest hopes of being labelled progressive and awarded for it.

Yes, of course words are very much tied to how we perceive reality, but messing them up in the cause of something as stupidly and unsatisfactorily defined as ‘gender’ is in the mouths of its own champions serves no purpose other than to soothe megalomaniacal cretins and antisocial, manipulative teenagers; to further confuse young gay girls and boys already devoid of proper guidance; and to terminate all useful terminology and, consequently, praxis relating to female and homosexual struggles. Meddling with one’s discourse does not induce some sort of alchemical miracle that transforms material reality into whatever someone wishes it could be – my repeating over and over that I am rich (or that I ‘identify as rich’, to use the preferred construction) does not, in fact, have the slightest effect of increasing the value of my withering bank account in so much as a dime.

It’s hot air.

The problem lies with the consequences, as mentioned, on us all, since these linguistic atrocities and resulting social practices are being officially accepted and implemented by mass media and governments alike.

Moreover, cohesive groups exist prior to the language used to describe them. Women are biologically female and form a cohesive unit because of it despite the push for reducing women to lipstick and stilettos; gays are gays and form a cohesive unit by means of their exclusive attraction to individuals of the same sex, despite the push to redefine sexuality in terms of nebulous and volatile ‘gender’. Even if the words we use and need do end up swallowed and wholly co-opted by the trans/queer crowd and their allies, the concreteness of these groups will not cease to be, nor will their oppression, but it will be a lot harder to talk about it and for us to find one another to build actual community so we can fight back. Our best interests, as lesbians especially, are obviously not at the heart of those peddling trans/queer politics.

Politics which, ironically, claim themselves progressive – anti-sexist, anti-racist, anti-homophobic (or ‘LGBTphobic’ as I’ve been elsewhere forced to read), the list goes on (to include, many times, a comical idea of being anti-capitalism when queer/trans ideology is intimately linked with consumerism – performativity demands products to showcase it; it demands reification of the self and that comes with buying these or those items to heighten the image of one’s self as a consumable good – but that is another essay entirely). Those who ‘identify with’ this world-view go so far as to say that women and lesbians (their being actual feminists or radical ones at that completely disregarded for the ‘TERF’ acronym to be freely tossed around) who so much as question them, let alone fight back, are colonialist, racist, Eurocentric, yada yada yada bigots. Because, apparently, the categories of female/male are western creations imposed on native peoples to control them… For some reason, whereas categories of masculine/feminine are essential, spiritual and totally-not-artificially-constructed or socially imposed so as to create a hierarchy of the sexes… Or, another ‘argument’ found between the defenders of ‘gender identity’, everything is deemed as socially constructed, but delusions are somehow considered more real than flesh and bones just because they say so.

The flaws in logic and in their overall rhetoric would be hilarious, if they didn’t bring about such negative consequences along with giving any sensible and thinking human being a headache.

For here’s the clincher: all this talk of ‘inclusivity’ and progress spewing from trans/queer activists is done in English. Yes, the very language that has infiltrated most corners of the known world given the colonising efforts of the British throughout history and, more recently and perhaps successfully, due to the grip on mainstream media and consciousness exercised by the United States of America. We are made to witness English speakers (native and not so!) throw tantrums when someone does not recognize the ‘validity’ of or fails to utilise something like ‘ey/eirs’ pronouns. So the discourse is constructed in a way that uses certain cultures as props (‘In X culture, there is a third gender!!!’) but at the same time derides all these non-English speaking peoples for their incapability of using a broken, and, let’s face it, horrendous English. It isn’t even a Eurocentric view (something these ‘activists’ say themselves vehemently against, to the point of blindly embracing and defending, say, the tenets of certain non-Western religious ideologies only to spite so-called Western sensibilities…), it’s a decidedly Anglo-Saxon view they espouse. ‘Queer theory’ is born in English-speaking academia and these vulgar branches of it spread amongst English-speakers who think it viable and useful to change the entire structure of the English language to amuse them when they can’t even differentiate ‘your’ from ‘you’re’ in written media a lot of the time.

See, there are, to mention but one kind, Romance languages in Europe and outside of it and these languages (the likes of French, Spanish, Portuguese, Italian…) are gendered. They use grammatical genders because this is how they developed throughout the ages from their Latin roots. It’s an essential part of their mechanisms; not because Romance languages are somehow bigoted and want all trans people to die terribly in a fire, but because these languages have existed for much longer than the ideology and social practices that the trans/queer crowd defend.

In these languages, one cannot do what some of these individuals do in English, using a third person plural to signify a single, individual person (the idea that ‘they’ is a neutral pronoun). It is utterly impossible to make any sense of it in a Romance language, added to the fact that these tongues separate third person plurals into feminine and masculine forms (elles/ils in French; elas/eles in Portuguese, etc.). To attempt something of the sort would be to incur in an egregious error in using these languages and native speakers of them do not and shall not recognize these strategies as proper or practical in any way.

English is not a parameter to which other languages compare or should strive to emulate at all. ‘They’ is impossible to carry on as a ‘neutral’ pronoun in translation, so one can only imagine how obtuse it would be to try and find equivalents to ‘ze’, ‘xe’, ‘ey’ in Spanish or Italian, to speak of only two… Those writers today who include ‘nonbinary’ characters who are referred to in the story by these unorthodox pronouns, in the name of ‘inclusion’, are automatically excluding the rest of the non-English speaking world from reading it, unless they consent to having these anomalies translated into proper pronouns that reflect the target language of a possible translation of their story.

There has been pressure from self-proclaimed leftist circles to write certain words in the vein of ‘Latinx’, ‘elx’, ‘el@’ in some countries as a way to approach this concept of ‘gender neutrality’ in human language, but none of these hideous little chimeras are pronounceable. Of course, as is to be expected, those of us who recognize this difficulty in the popularisation of these forms and who refuse to partake in the collective illusion that new genders and pronouns can effectively better the world are shouted down, ostracised, and likened to right-wing sympathisers. In refusing to let our speech be contaminated by ludicrous ideas originated in other countries and languages, in other social configurations (for, needless to say, the social and material reality of an American academic making a living out of ‘queering’ literature at Berkeley is far different than that of a low class Brazilian selling fruits on the street – in fact, that American academic is already very much removed from the reality of an average American of lower income as well), we are accused of being intolerant.

So, by refusing to let ourselves be colonised by American theories, we’re being intolerant… Of whom? Sexual minorities? How can a lesbian, of all people, be charged with the crime of effacing the existence of a trans/queer person? What power does a single lesbian hold in the midst of society, what influence does she have when she is forced to express her discontent with the path both feminist and gay movements have followed by means of an anonymous blog on the internet for fear of violent reprisal? What power does she wield when all of mainstream media supports and sells trans/queer ideology hourly? How does she, in not bending to the whim of some narcissist who calls himself her equal or even more oppressed than she is, cause any violence to this person just by calling him ‘he’? How can she be accused of racism by not acknowledging a concept born and bred within the halls of North American institutions of higher education she, most of the time, can’t even dream of entering?

Identity politics are invariably tied to the language and culture that birthed them. Transplanting this train-wreck to other countries isn’t educating prejudiced whites or liberating the poor, uneducated little third-world citizens of their ignorance, it’s imposing a foreign and quite nonsensical world-view on us all. That seems much more akin to imperialism than the fact of not accepting this same ideology being forced upon us.

This world-view they want us all to adopt (in whose benefit, again?) is rooted on a very simplistic and mistaken understanding of the systems that govern society as we know it, a world-view founded upon the columns of misogyny, homophobia, neo-liberal lies and jargon meant to obfuscate its true meaning and intentions.

How naive must one be to believe that changing some pronouns around and creating a whole slew of ‘genders’ based on aesthetics and stereotypical behaviour can change the world in any way?

Or rather, how can one allow oneself to be seduced by the idea and think that whatever changes it does cause can ever be for the better? Activism is reduced to a joke, a game of scrabble, feeble discussions on the internet which are soon forgotten. Worse still, activism is done in the name of those who need it the least: men. What benefit does this zealous concern with pronouns create for actual marginalised people? What can women, homosexuals, people of colour, the poor all gain from this?

It certainly is not liberation. That does not come in the form of new shackles, as colourful and covered in glitter as they may be.