#...could the mimes be in france

[dastardlydandelion]

going to need the next entry in the A Quiet Place franchise to be about a troupe of mimes.

[universallypersona]

hai hai do yu have mime bomb hcs :3

Truth be told, This was slightly hard to make since I couldn't exactly grasp alot of HC's of him like the rest but YESSSSSSSSSS

TW: SENSITIVE/MATURE TOPICS AHEAD

I'd like to believe he had some sort of traumatic past as a child to become a mime. For an example; He might've ran away from an abusive family in France and never looked back, He had to beg in the streets but he was amused when a Mime earned some coins so maybe the Mime gave him tips and tricks how to be one BUT the Mime was also teaching him pickpocketing before the Mime disappeared with no trace, which I assumed Mime Bomb just expertise how the Mime did and the V.I.L.E. found him as a "unique student"

The creators didn't specify exactly if Mime Bomb was mute or not but I do HC him as mute since it would add more to his past, and I think it'd be so cool if they add more characters with disabilities for more rep if interpreted correctly (I don't know if it is rude for assuming a character has a disability but if so I'll gladly take this down)

He does not have like.. ACTUAL, REAL AS IN REAAALLL friends but he does have people who know him but not personally. Although, I do think Neal the Eel is one person who he is much closer than to everybody else he's ever known

He's great with kids though, Just that sometimes the kids get scared because of his makeup

He's probably the first one to know if something is going on ngl or he could be THE mastermind itself when he needs to 'take down' someone which is awesome as well since it's cannon as heck that he can move without the opponent noticing him

He does not have a specific music taste but he's always seen playing Jazz music so people assume he only likes that type of music (He played rock music once and most V.I.L.E. agents were shocked for a second before they just shrugged it off)

He. Loves. Black. No cap, No borax. But, He does like the color blue and red

Knows — NO, HE. IS. GREAT. At tap dancing. I JUST KNOW ITTTT

Doesn't know how to cook BUT he is awesome on baking. Just say the name of the dish and he already has the ingredients prepared

So far, He's actually had a slightly good relationship with the gang except for Sheena, She finds him creepy and one time she punched him when he appeared beside her so suddenly out of reflex/defense (He was unconscious for three minutes in the clinic ngl)

Among all of the gang, Antonio is probably one person who doesn't mind him at all. Antonio, as well, is by far mostly used to Mime Bomb's sudden appearances unlike the rest

Not a lot of people consider him as a "threat" but they do know he doesn't like to be underestimated which is why most of the time they just shrug him off

I hc him to be aromantic though since I really think he's just "Y.O.L.O" to other people. In addition to that, I think he's probably never had a certain crush whatsoever and is most likely more focused on himself ngl

HE LOVEEEEEESSSSSSSSSSS CATSSSSSSSS. He sometimes tries to bring one to V.I.L.E. but it ends up with him getting in trouble and forced to drop them off on the streets again :((

THAT'S ALLLLLLL BYEEEEE

[sidsinning]

I just saw the movie, I have to agree with you in regards to the pacing. They tried to cram 5 seasons into a 100 minutes movie. A lot got cut out from the plot, and did find it disappointing the lack of Lucky charm. I feel that the Miraculous itself felt more magical in the movie; I give that to the production team, the lighting and textures of the movie were great. But great effects do not make up for a medium plot. One thing that I did like is how the villains were literal criminals with no qualms for destroying the city and doing whatever they felt like it. The motivation behind Gabriel as to why he was causing chaos in the city with the akumas was nicely done in the movie. That when only when there is chaos the Miraculous of the Ladybug and Chat Noir will appear. I had a conversation with a friend as we watched the movie over Discord, and I suggested that one could watch up to halfway into the movie, then watch the season 4 finale and the rest of season 5, if that person wanted a "quick introduction" to the series. I mostly suggest that due to the "monster of the week episodic cycle" the show has at the start of it. Not sure what others felt about the songs, but it kind of threw off the tone of the show for me, I know that MLB has some song episodes, but those are staged around a concert or are themed to be like that. The whole Gabriel song gave me "Friends from the Other Side" vibes from the visual, but it was not catching at all.

Yeah, the movie was pretty and had great visuals, but plot-wise, the Series is better, even if has some shortcomings and repetitive episodes at times.

Germs wants a sequel too so like- wHY did he want to cram in all this shit into 1 movie??? I know you're here to milk money can you please plan it better at least

The villains lmao I was so confused like he just walked into this dungeon with people coming out of their own cages dressed as mimes and magicians without explanation???? Was kinda funny sdgfhsdfdde

The songs,,,,,they were either eh, meh, or BLEGH (Tikki,,,no one told you to rap,,,Lin Manuel Miranda is not in France,,,,,) I cringe so hard whenever MLB becomes a musical out of nowhere- but I will say this time there is definitely a level of professionalism and finish that is not present in the show.

Yeah- I'm not saying the show is perfect, or even meeting the standards of what I would label a series "good", but it is much much much better than this movie

I was just expecting some good high definition fanfiction you know 😭 a lil treat to enjoy on the side- but they butchered the fundamentals of what made the show so addicting to watch despite its faults,,,

You cannot tell me Origins Parts 1 and 2 are not 1000000x better than anything this movie brought to the table and that was less than half its run time

aNYWAYS,,,,my thoughts on the movie are my own but everyone who enjoyed it don't let me stop you ofc

[rhinozilla]

Firstly, up front, I do not want any answers or explanations to this.

I parted ways with the Walking Dead many seasons before it ended. It was a slow decline in interest after Negan's intro episode and then an abrupt halt at a specific point in the same season when I called it quits.

Many of my beloved mutuals are mutuals because of TWD (and more specifically Caryl), and they held out longer than I did, so I still occasionally see blips of what happened between when I left and where things ended up. My eternal love to all of you. I empathize with all the suffering that this show put us all through.

Now...again I say, I do not want any context or explanation here.

But the idea that there is a spinoff where Daryl Dixon is in France...it is sending me. I don't know where it's sending me, but that sentence is so baffling and incomprehensible that I never want to know the how's or why's or logistics of it. I just want to sit in blissful ignorance and enjoy the absurdity of that sentence.

Daryl Dixon in France. Just roaming around. Attempting to build alliances with locals but things always ending in violence over how he pronounces "croissant." Daryl Dixon fishing in the Seine. French zombies. A French mime zombie. A French mime zombie carrying a baguette. Daryl Dixon killing the French mime zombie and stealing the baguette. Because Daryl Dixon is in fucking France.

I just...I don't...It doesn't...I hate absolutely everything about that premise, and yet it is somehow absolutely glorious. It sounds like the most outfield crack fanfic idea ever, and yet it exists??? Canonically???

(No hate toward anybody who likes the spinoff. Again, I have absolutely no context or understanding if said spinoff is good. It could be excellent and gripping and profound. I will never know, and I prefer it that way. I am but a fan of old who occasionally sees things like this and thinks "...huh?")

[itzkawaiiduh]

Had this sitting in my drafts, and wanted to share it after doing work, and looking at a crap ton of Edgar Allan Poe illustrations old artists made for his stories. People really got creative with them! There's a lot of good ones!

But anyways!

I find it fitting but a little funny that Will's spectre almost resembles a mime in a way. The ribbons are stripes along the blank white body, the masks,, but he can talk. Well, he can also TRY to talk-- see episode 91 for reference.

Mimes originate from France and are all about silent comedy/slapsticks. I feel like as well, Montresor would hate mimes. I mean he probably doesn't like clowns as well, since the cellar.

This may ALSO be a reach but the word 'mannequin' are originally from France, meaning 'an artist's jointed model'

Basically, the fact that Duke and Will's spectres correlate in some way is fitting (Duke as a jester and Will as an actor)

Duke's abilities are hypnosis, levitation and invisibility: usual magician tricks, while Will's are duplication, mimicry and entanglement: all the items to hide/reveal yourself to the audience. One's a magician and the other is an actor: acting personas.

I have not read Duke's namesake story, but I have read Cask of Amontillado

(Note that mimicry is the art of imitating someone, usually to ridicule or entertain; an art. It's also a biological aspect to be an exact copy of someone.)

Ribbons are a common elements inside the webcomic, but Will's are flying off his body, clearly more intended to catch someone and hide them than himself. Could it also be himself though? Just read William Wilson and you'll catch my drift

Also read somewhere that it can be film reel/wax ribbon?

I sense some sort of interaction slash dynamic with them in the future, because Duke said it himself, he doesn't know WHO Will is. (was? Does he even know Will's name now? Probably, how else would he explain to Lenore that Will wore her face) when he walled him.

William Wilson additionally was held during a masquerade, and there is mentions of a Duke in the story so.... *Insert image of charlie from iasip here with the board*

And throwing this panel here, because OKAYYY William you actually may have done a better job. Good for you for practicing your French. Also the fact he got everything except the bowtie is crazy memory, I could never. And when he lured him from his room, he wasn't even in his uniform.

Nighttime thoughts really get u thinking... (posted draft that I made last night)

me when duke and will spectre parallels... omg,,,

If anyone who has read and has information about Duke's namesake story, reblog this with your thoughts or let me know in the comments!

[anastasiaskarsgard]

could you write a one shot where the marquis is out and about doing marquis stuff but in the middle of the public, there’s a shoot out and (because the assassins aim is poor) they hit the reader instead of the marquis. The marquis gets the reader to a hospital and finds himself getting curious about the stranger that got shot instead of him?

“Was that the Marquis de Gramont?” The newest nurse to take over asked.

Opening your eyes, and glancing over, you were met with the curious, excited woman’s face. “No his name is Vincent. Not Marquis.” You added.

The woman’s high pitched giggling echoed through the room. “Oh my! You’re serious?” She asked as she had a hard time getting control of herself. “Marquis is not a name, it’s a title. It means they’re practically royalty, and quite rare in France considering our history.”

You analyzed the woman’s uniform, making sure it was in fact a proper uniform, and not some escaped patient. You had no idea what she was even talking about. As far as you knew, all the French royals were wiped out in the French Revolution. They killed so many people, they had to invent the guillotine to keep up, plus you’d never heard of that title.

“It says here you’re an American. You’d think you’d know how to avoid getting shot with all the shootings you guys have over there. I don’t know how you all manage it. What with every single citizen carrying multiple guns… sounds terrifying!”

It was your turn to chuckle now, “everyone doesn’t have guns in America. Plenty of people don’t own any at all.”

She looked at you incredulously, putting her hands on her hips, “well the BBC, which is English, but still a respectable news source says there’s 10 guns for every person in America.”

“Oh they don’t mean everyone has ten guns! There’s gun collectors and enthusiasts that have many many guns, while the average person might own one. I personally don’t own a gun at all.” You explained, “I have never seen anything like yesterday though.”

Previous day

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed. Your whole life you’d been told how beautiful Paris was, but so far had found it overcrowded, and smelly. Graffiti was everywhere, and you hadn’t seen a single mime.

You had dressed up in a smart Chanel suit, with a stylish complimenting hat and even gloves, going for a classic French look, but you stood out like a sore thumb. All your preparations and extra bag fees to bring what you thought was a proper French wardrobe was for naught.

You’d barely walked anywhere and your feet were already screaming, but you didn’t care. Your shoes went perfectly with your ensemble, and you’d have bloody feet before you swapped them out for a pair of sneakers.

A loud bang, followed by a few more bangs sounded off in the distance. Knitting your eyebrows together, you tried to figure out what it was. You knew guns were illegal here so that wasn’t it, but it was too early for fireworks.

Suddenly several cars were driving at a great rate of speed in your direction. They were weaving in and out of traffic and one even drove on the sidewalk. Several more bangs sounded, and people around you started running and screaming. You still couldn’t figure out the bangs tho. What the hell was happening on your trip you’d saved up all year to take?

As the chaos unfolded before you, an expensive looking sports car, hit the curb and spun out of control. Spinning across the intersection, it slammed into a barrier about 100 feet away from you. Spurred into action by the loud crash and smoke billowing from within, you daintily ran towards the car.

Reaching the vehicle, you noticed there was a person inside that wasn’t moving. Making your way to their door, you pulled on the lever, only to nearly get smacked in the face by the door springing up, instead of out.

Inside was a well dressed, beautiful man, that was what you’d been thinking was the standard French man. Staring at him a moment, unsure what to do, you scanned the immediate area and saw that one of the other speed demon cars, had parked and two men were making their way towards you.

“Move sweetheart. We got no beef with you.” One of them said.

“We don’t have time for this shit. Fucking shoot ‘‘em both and let’s get outta here.” His accomplice said.

Eyes widening you turned to face the two thugs, placing your hands on your hips and glaring. “Excuse me, but nobody is getting shot today. I’m afraid you’ll have to-“ suddenly you felt a terrible burn and looked down to see red blooming above your hip. Gingerly touching it, you brought your gloved fingers in front of your face to confirm that you were in fact bleeding… in your Chanel tweed suit.

Rage burned through you. Your suit was ruined! RUINED! In a fit of rage, you tomahawked your purse at the one who shot you, hitting him square in the head. Removing your shoes, you threw them too, shrieking various insults about their breeding and disrespect of proud fashion houses. Looking back, you likely were in shock and running on adrenaline, but just as the two men raised their guns once more to undoubtedly ruin your clothing further, two gunshots rang out behind you. Both men before you, suddenly had holes in the center of their foreheads and fell to the ground dead.

Colors distorting and your surroundings slowing and blurring all around you, you reached out to catch something to hang on to, finding the unmistakable feel of a cashmere and silk blend suit jacket. Blinking slowly, you turned to see the beautiful man beside you holding a gun and looking around.

Smiling the best you could, you uttered, “don’t let me fall in the street and ruin my outfit further.”

Then all went dark.

————————————————————-

You’d woken up this morning to find the beautiful man standing at your bedside, staring down at you with a contemplative expression on his face.

“You changed.” You blurted out. “This suit is good too.”

Looking down at your hospital gown, you gasped. Reaching up to your head, you found your hat was gone too. “I’ve been robbed!”

Hearing a chuckle, you turned back to see the man genuinely smiling at you. “You were shot and they had to cut your clothes off of you. I apologize for leaving your shoes and purse at the scene, but I found it most important to save your life.”

Trying to look appreciative, you bit your lip and tried to hold back your tears. “Thank you for saving me…”

“Vincent.”

“Vinnie. That’s a fun name.”

“It’s actually Vincent.” He corrected.

“Who got shot here? Oh ya it was me. Jesus Vinnie. You have to choose your battles.” You stated matter of factly. “So what happens now? Am I to be released in this abomination?” You asked, plucking at your hospital gown. “Porky pig my way through the streets of Paris?”

Vinnie hadn’t stopped smiling since you’d woken up. He bent down and took your hand into his.

Slightly surprised by the familiar behavior, you just stared wide eyed at him, waiting for him to inform you what was happening.

Massaging your hand, he moved your hair behind your ear with his other hand, before speaking; “you’re going to rest for a couple days and let them take care of you. When they are ready for you to leave, they will call me and I will come personally pick you up with a new Chanel ensemble.”

“With matching accessories?” You asked hopefully.

“Do I look like an amateur?” He asked with a dazzling smile.

Shaking your head, you leaned back into the pillows feeling very tired all of a sudden. Barely able to keep your eyes open, you swore you felt lips brush across your hand, followed by your forehead, before darkness once again claimed you.

——————————————————-

“Well honey that man is the richest, most eligible bachelor in Paris. He’s also one of the best looking too but dangerous. It’s nice he saved you, but end it at that. Too many people come in here saying his name.” She said as she checked your vitals and replaced medicine. “It was exciting seeing him up close tho. I’ve only ever seen him in the gossip rags or on the telly.”

“He said he’s going to get me a Chanel suit with accessories and pick me up from the hospital when I’m ready.” You mumbled.

“WHAT?” The nurse shrieked before jumping up and down clapping excitedly. “You know what? Forget what I said. Go with him! And have the time of your life for however long it lasts!”

You once again inspected this woman’s uniform. Finding nothing amiss, you closed your eyes and let sleep take you once more.

[asillyartist]

OH look at that I have my own Pizza tower oc, but jokes aside I love her a lot.

I gonna put here some lore? Past? her relations with other characters because I have nothing better to do so have fun.

For the start, her Name is Visi Bagethetti but she calls herself Voicette due to her talking so much and bc it reminds her of Noisette.

She is around the age of 21 She also can talk a little bit of Italian and perfectly France and started living in the streets two years ago to have a more interesting lifestyle.

Robbing people breaking into places and talking are her talents if you can say that.

She had many jobs over the years as well she can cook, serve food even plumbing I bet she could even do jobs other people are terrible at just looking at the problem, she is quite smart but likes to act dumb and silly.

She loves money and she also will do everything to get some.

She talks to many people and when they don't look boom their wallet is now hers.

She mostly has a mime costume because she loves mimes, in general, the rabbit ears paws, and tail are the best parts of her look, she can move the ears and tail like there were her own body parts, she got the rabbit-eared hat from her father when she was a child in France.

she then promised herself to never take it off for the most, she loved her father but he passed away he was Italian so that's why she can talk Italian herself a little, she never had a real mother and the stepmom stopped contacting her, she loves to see new places and new people even though she is mostly alone on her ''adventures'' if you can call it that.

She loves to sing dance and perform she meets many people but the ''Pizza Tower gang'' just fits her too well she feels like is the best place to stay, and she feels happy near them.

She likes to talk to Peppino he reminds her of her father a lot she often likes to help him in his business and also learns to speak better Italian due to Peppinos help.

She likes Noisette a lot they surely are the small bunny and big rabbit, she likes to bully The Noise for fun when he wants to annoy Peppino, and she is 100% not overprotective over the stressed Italian man no no

But besides that, she and the Noise hang out sometimes to cost trouble around the place also yes she takes his cigarettes away like Noisette but gives him a lollipop instead.

She is kinda fine with Pepperman and Vigilante, they are fun to talk to, and she all the time finds a topic to talk to them, she also helps Pepperman with his art and helps Vigilante on his farmland.

She enjoys hanging out with Gustavo and Brick she still can't get over the fact that they are amazing friends.

she is quite unsure about fake Peppino but she does like to learn about his weird lounge and body structure

and at last Mr. Stick and PizzaHead well she is quite silly and loves money herself so those two boys are her massive crushes she is just too shy to ask them out or show her feelings to them.

She can talk with Mr. Stick for hours long about money and ideas and also the business stuff.

With Pizzahead she can goof around like a little child and play dumb games for hours with him, they really do enjoy the time with each other and the dumb things they come up with.

ANDDD- that's all I guess my pizza tower oc does have a lot to offer.

''huh? huh? huh?''

[damnfandomproblems]

https://www.tumblr.com/damnfandomproblems/730037495135387648/4291-fanfic-authors-dont-owe-you-shit-if-you?source=share

Fanfic authors dont owe anyone anything yes

But it does show how poorly educated americans are about modern life in alot of other countries.

Or how unwilling they are to learn. A simple wikipedia search could tell you a lot about a place.

Ive met americans who don't understand Cairo in. Egypt is a very large modern city just like ones in america. Yes alot of Americans are surprised to learn people in africa, the middle east, and south asia arent all living in poorly built wooden shacks except for maybe political leaders. Or they do know but they think about it so little or were taught so little that it never crosses their minds.

And most of what americans see of alot of european countries is medieval themed interesting events from the past. Hell if you ask an random, average, american three things about france they will say three of these things

Eiffle tower

Bagguette

Macaroon

Qui

Guillotine

Mime

"Those hats" on artists

And maybe something specific if it happened to collide with a hobby or interest of theirs

Not all americans obviously but a lot of them ive noticed dont know a lot about other countries outside of controversies, cultural aesthetic, and what they were like hundreds of years ago if they bothered to learn.

And thats pretty sad and also limits alot of creativity and uniqueness that fanworks could be made with.

Its not really about "evil americans dont care about anyone else" and more americans dont or haven't really had to think about modern life anywhere except america or a select few other cities in popular countries. They dont consider towns like you'll find in america in other countries. Many think they all live without air conditioning and dirt floors. Everyone does some kind of farmwork or artisanal work. And im not saying no one live like that and im not saying you cant be happy living like that, but many just have such a disconnect from what modern life is really like for most people in other countries.

It would be nice and healthy for american or native english speaking fandom to start having more interest in learning and including other countries and their people.

Ofc there are alot of reasons why many are turned away from doing this, one of which being they dont want to get anything wrong in this world of "cancel culture" and "anti-process-of-learning attitude" and "cultural appropriation panic" that's prevalent in fandom but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing to do.

Link for anyone who is on mobile.

Posting since this is a response to a previous ask and a previous problem.

[bluwails]

THE MIRACULOUS MOVIE WAS BETTER THAN THE SHOW!

how can a one-hour movie do better than 5 seasons?

I am genuinely surprised at how much i enjoyed this. the show as of late is almost nothing but disappointments in the weirdest of ways.

i watched this with my brother thats really into miraculous so the commentary was a ride. lol

MAJOR SPOILERS BELOW. If you don't care about that keep reading. Its bits from the movie i really laughed hard at or had major questions about.

the intro was a bit info dumpy, but in 50 seconds you get everything you need to know about miraculous and akumas.

Bro: How?!

Me: how what?

bro: how can they explain the miraculous so well in 50 seconds but we got this summed up in like 2 seasons?

For those who hate how much of a stalker weirdo Marinette is in show, you're gonna love this version of her. they switched out Marinette's stalkerish tendencies for a rather adorable one. she's still hella clumsy but it works somehow. she went from stalker to love sick puppy in the good way.

Bro: thank you! shes so nice now!

Me: lmao

bro: you dont get it! she had adrien's whole schedule memorized so she could pop up when she can!

Cat noir perfectly walks that line of annoying yet likeable. congratulations you did wonderfully.

Whats this? Gabriel has a villain song; why tf were there just random crooks in jail in the catacombs of France? what did they do that the french had to throw them under the jail and throw away the key?

*mime legit makes a bliky with fingers and shoots at minors*

point taken.

whats this marrinette and adren, through montage, develope what looks like a healthy young love?

YESSSS GABRIEL FOUND OUT ADREIN FOUND OUT MARRINETTE FOUND OUT

THEY EARNED THAT KISS AT THE END MARRIENTTE EARNED IT YOU CAN FIGHT ME! TAKE OFF YOUR SHIRT AND FIGHT ME!

YOU HAD ONE JOB

STAY DED

[writin-with-the-blues]

I’ve had this idea for awhile but- Don’t Starve Wes x reader where the reader got trapped in the constant looking for Wes, established relationship type stuf!

A/N: Anon dropping an amazing request and acting like they didn’t say anything important. Here you go Anon!

A Popped Balloon

Content: Wes x Fiancé!S/O (Romantic), 2K words, Wes is disabled, reader understands French and French Sign Language (LSF)

Were you crazy? Sure.

Were you insane? Maybe.

Hallucinating? Not something that happens.

Well regardless of what happened, here you are waking up to a field with no civilization. At first you were in full blown denial, just lying right there and looking to the sky. However, it was just how real everything felt that got you up and moving. The smell of the flowers, the sound of wind hitting your hair, and the way the berries, plucks of grass, sticks, and rocks felt in your hands. There was no denying the fact that this was happening and being the determined person you were, you to continue your investigation of your dear fiancé, Wes.

You met Wes in France seven years ago after moving there from America. You wanted to work as a performer however you didn’t find that much success in America so you moved to France. You tried to learn all the languages you’ll need before moving, one of them being LSF. You didn’t know ASL or completely knew French so learning LSF was difficult to say the least, but in hindsight it was probably one of your best decisions. You learned all of this mainly because you didn’t want to stand out all too much, well as much as you already did as a performer.

You bumped into Wes after a somewhat successful performance, enough to keep yourself housed and fed for a good while. You tried to talk to him in French, though he signed to you, “I doubt you understand LSF since you have an American accent but do you?”

Your immediate response, not even responding to the question he asked, “I have an American accent?”

Oh god the way his eyes shimmered like a kid on Christmas when you responded. He smiled so much his dimples showed as he responded, “Yeah, you sound breathy. It’s a bit hard to understand.”

“Breathy? What do you mean breathy?”

“Sounds like you’re.” He pauses his hand movements trying to find his words, “Breathing in between your sentences.”

You smiled at him as he smiled at you.

As you got to know him, the more you could say you fell for him. According to him, he has been mute since his birth so he decided to become a mime, he had gotten so good at being a mime it might as well be magic. The reason why is according to him, ‘C’est la vie’ or roughly meaning, ‘That’s just life; you got to work with it.’ The thing you always wondered is how he got his balloons to float without helium. However, every time you asked him how he did it, he’d sign to you, “A good performer never tells their secrets,” with a shit eating grin.

Even today, as you are collecting materials and finding ways to keep them on you, you still wonder about the logistics of that. Why you were thinking of that of all things instead of looking for shelter or food was probably a way to cope with the situation you are in. The sun went down as you picked the rock down little by little, you could hear the sound of bat screeches but you ignored it. Your hands hurt from the work on not only chopping down the trees but picking rocks. Your sticks were held together by you wrapping them with the grass which was surprisingly sturdy for grass. You went back to reminiscing about the past as you continued working.

You remembered the day you two became a couple like it was yesterday, it wasn’t particularly a beautiful day with storm clouds slowly rolling in. You both had a failed performance, what made it worse was the rain that came through which just completely ruined any chances of continuing, so you both sat on a bench under Wes’ umbrella. Wes’ makeup was ruined, his mascara and face paint washing away from the rain, it slowly dropped down in streaks to the bottom of his chin. It was attractive to you, however you knew that Wes didn’t agree with that sentiment based on the way he acted so you decided not to bring it up. He tried to communicate one letter at a time because his other hand had his umbrella, but you gently took the umbrella to allow him to fully converse with you. He signed, “Thank you.”

He started the conversation by signing, “Hopefully your performance was at least a bit better than what happened to me.”

“Well…” You looked to the sky, “the rain ruined it.”

“Yeah, me too. Well as you can obviously see.” He gestured to his face as he continued to sign, “My whole act was ruined, considering my makeup is melting off.”

He sighed, as the two of you remained in relative silence. You could see his cheeks blush a bit thanks to the rain wiping away the white face paint. It was a light dusting sure, but you can totally see it, so against better judgment you asked him, “Are you embarrassed?”

“What? No. No, absolutely not.” He signed quickly, so fast it was hard to pick up what he was saying, “What made you say that?”

“Well, I-“ you cleared your throat, “saw you were red in the face and just wanted to check in.”

It took a bit for him to respond, taking a deep breath he signed, “I love you.”

Your heart was going miles an hour as he continued, “For a while actually and,” He pauses his movements, “it’s just so amazing to be around you. I don’t really know if I am saying I love you too early but I don’t have the heart to care. So, do you love me like I love you?”

He was looking away from you before you gently moved his chin to look at you. A smile spread across his face as he kissed you on the lips and you reciprocated it. You were there for a while locked into each other’s lips as the sound of water tapping on Wes’ umbrella continued. Once you pulled away, you answered, “Of course. Of course I love you like you imagine Wes”

Another one of his shit eating grins spread across his face as he signed, “Good luck trying to clean off your face.”

You slowly wiped your lips only to find his stained lipstick on there, and all you could do was smile and teased, “You’re a piece of shit and I love you.”

As the relationship grew and grew, you always noticed how physically affectionate he was. Walking down the streets of France while holding his gloved hand, often hugging you tightly, and kisses dear god. You love the man so much and he loved you too, but the way his makeup stains your face was obvious and clear. Obviously he was super apologetic about it after you told him about the dilemma, trying to only kiss you when he had his makeup off.

Speaking of his makeup off, you got to see a lot more of that when he wasn’t on the street. Especially just lying next to you in your humble abode, cuddling with you over the soft sounds of the radio. Kissing along the back of your neck keeping you tightly in his arms. He always somehow lazily signed to you, “I love you.”

Your home essentially became his as he brought gifts to you after performing. Sometimes it was some pastries to share, sometimes it was nice daisies, sometimes he did a balloon trick. Essentially, a roll of the dice of what he’ll do when he gets home between sharing and enjoying something with you or just cuddling until he falls asleep. Though after a complete flop of a performance, being a shoulder to cry on was nice but you also cried on his shoulders when you needed to.

So of course, it was only a matter of time before he proposed. After almost four years of being with you, he cleaned his late mother’s ring, and came looking for you. You were performing on stage, as you were finishing up you heard footsteps from behind your makeshift stage. Seeing Wes was a comfort to you and then seeing him pull out a ring made you instantly hug him. Although that stunt caused you both to be injured in some way because you basically jumped on him, you accepted it with a giggle over the situation. You both knew that marrying each other now would cause major debt, so you decided to keep each other as just fiancés.

But then. It all was taken away from you.

Gone.

His life was taken away from you like a popped balloon.

The police showed up to your home and asked for your account for the disappearance of Wes. Your Fiancé. Obviously you were worried, desperate to find out what happened, but the verdict they settled on was infuriating. After he traveled into the alleyway, he was stabbed to death and brought someplace else, well at least that was the verdict the police settled on. Having his funeral only a week after the verdict to just move along. You obviously tried to argue with police after they had the verdict chosen.

“C’est la vie. You’ll find another love someday.”

You went to the county jail for violence against a police officer, specifically punching them directly in the jaw. It was worth every minute of community service you had to do. Why would anyone say that? Especially to someone who is grieving? It just solidifies the fact that something is wrong with what they described his supposed death. So after dealing with a lot of legal jargon, your next priority was figuring out what actually happened.

You went to talk to George T. Witherstone, a man that was also interviewed by police in the disappearance of your fiancé. However, George was a sleeze, who was connected to a much more famous performer who had disappeared named Maxwell. Maxwell and his assistant Charlie were both famous magicians that had kick started the careers of many famous performers such as yourself, but what George said clicked for you, “Well William Carter couldn’t pay his debts to me, frustrating I know.”

William Carter? That was his full name? The rest of what he was talking about was nothing but a blur as you fixated on that specifically.

Well there was no use in interrogating George when you began to run out of money to live in France. So, with all of the money you had left to your name, you went back to the United States to live with your family. You wanted to stay in France, but you had to go back, much to the disappointment of your family. However, hindsight is 20/20, so what was really a horrible thing turned out to be the very thing that brought you to where you were now.

You began searching through past magazines in your library about William Carter, continuing to connect the pieces together. Finding article upon article about Maxwell and Charlie’s disappearance, though you also found out about a strong man named Wolfgang saving William Carter’s life. You search through articles about him, he disappeared. In fact, the weirdest part about the whole thing is that the people with the weirdest disappearances always had a W at the beginning of their name.

Like Wes.

You snapped out of your own memories as you began to tinder a fire, being slow and calculating as you made sure that your makeshift torch would set aflame. You see the sun slowly setting until it turned night, the moon a crescent in the sky. You had to keep moving, you had to.

When you were searching through possible leads, the only one you could settle on was Wilson. Most of the rest didn’t have as much of their location or history out to the world. Especially Maxwell, whose house had been turned into a museum for himself. So, taking up a backpack, and using the knowledge you had, you went towards the shack that sat upon a hill which took you three hours to get there by car. You opened the door to find papers scattered across the floor, the sound of radio static, and a machine, massive in scale with a leaver. Against everything in your gut telling you otherwise, you flicked it.

Everything went to nothing, not black, just nothing. As if you were to close one eye, but for both eyes. Just nothing. Until there was something.

Which leads to now, where you continued to move forward until you saw dawn. As the morning began, you heard idle chatter through one person. Probably in his mid-thirties, most definitely tired and exhausted, just average overall. You decided to eavesdrop on the conversation, just letting the words come through.

“So Wes any objections to that plan of action?”

Silence.

“I am taking your silence as yes.”

Then the shuffling of two people’s feet. Almost as desperate as you were beginning your adventure you almost screamed out, “Wes?!”

You heard the sound of running as you got hugged by Wes. His arms felt just as great as you remembered them. You were surprised though, causing you to fall on your ass, but there was laughter involved in it all. Just like the day he proposed.

If you were asked to do it again to see those glittering eyes again, you’d take it in a heartbeat.

Cross-posted to AO3

Masterlist

[eisforeidolon]

Question: So I volunteer for a non-profit dog rescue called Doggie Protective Services DPS -

Jensen: Wait, wait, what's it called?

Question: DPS, Doggie Protective Services - doggie not dog.

Jared: Doggie dot dog?

Question: Doggie, not dog.

Jared: Oh, got it. Doggie Protective Services.

Question: We rescue a lot of puppy litters from really bad situations, so. Hoarding, abusive owners, you know - and I know you guys are animal lovers. When we get these litters, we have to name them and we name the individual puppies based on a theme. So we've done Gilmore Girls, we've done -

Jared: Yeah, I hope [winks ostentatiously]

Question: we've done super heroes, we've done hot sauce brands, we've done milk brands, like there was a puppy named 2% milk. Or even just [?] concepts. So I was wondering if you could think out loud and come up with some, just a creative theme and a handful of names for these puppies? And they have to be PG so my director won't hurt me? And not Supernatural themed, because we've done that.

Audience member: The Boys.

Jared and then Jensen: The Boys is not PG!

Jared: I think Barbie's professions. [Jensen sits up, makes wtf gesture]

Question: These dogs will be stuck with these for the rest of their lives.

Jared: One could be like, here's Astronaut the Chihuahua. Here's Lawyer the Shih Tzu.

Jensen: It'll be like, we've got seven dogs, they're all named Doll.

Jared: Uh, your favorite amendments.

Jensen: [points] Here's One, Two, Three, Four, Five - Five doesn't talk much. [Norton rimshot]

Jared: [paws at Jensen and points wildly] But One won't shut up! [looks at Norton][gets disappointed bass noise instead] Because it's the free speech amendment!

Jensen: Yeah, One won't shut up, so Two shot him. [Norton rimshot]

Jared: [temporarily walks off] So yeah, I'm going with Barbie professions and favorite amendments.

Jensen: But which one do they refer to as Army that isn't allowed in your house? Nevermind. I'm talking about amendments. What's the amendment where the army's not allowed to stay in your house? Is that the third? Yeah, that one. We need that one.

Jared: Uhh, you can't come in.

Jensen: How often is [mimes knocking on Jared] 'Hey, how you doin', I'm with the United States Army, just looking for a place to stay tonight [looks back to wave in imaginary other people] All right, let's go guys!' [Jared laughs]

Jared: Favorite Vice Presidents? In colonial France, in colonial France. They have Vice Presidents, correct? They probably don't call them that, they probably call them [tries to fake French]. Your favorite one of those, it's an option, you know. [repeating from audience, slightly laughing] Dictators?

Jensen: What about colors with a Mr. and Mrs. in front of them?

Audience: Awww.

Jared: [incredulous] Awww my ass. That sucks.

Question: I think we've done it, but -

Jared: Donut?

Jensen: You've already -

Question: We've done, like, everything.

Jensen: Ooh, donut? Yeah, fast foods. I said fast food, breakfast foods.

Jared: Oh! Okay, yeah breakfast foods. Remember with breakfast foods -

Question: We've done that.

Jared: [laughing] They did that already. What about conspiracy theories? [pretends to call imaginary dog] Hey, c'mere Flat Earth, c'mere! [Jensen laughs] Good boy! C'mere Flat Earth, that's a good boy! [pets imaginary dog, laughs] Roswell, leave him alone! Magic Bullet? Yeah, Magic Bullet, you get back! Anyway, you have plenty of good ideas just from that, so.

Jensen: How about James Bond villains?

Jared: Ooooh. That's not always G, remember [?]

Jensen: Here Octopussy! It is a cat.

Jared: Yeah. yeah, yeah, yeah. Yeah.

Jensen: I call em like I see em. Listen, that one's right down the center -

Jared: [mimes shooing] Hey Blofeld, get away from Pussy Galore! [Jensen cracks up, whispers something that cracks them both up further] Don't.

Jensen: I'm not, I'm not. Alright, we could do this all day.

Jared: Thank you for your question. That's the next dog name, hey you can do this all day. It can be like dad jokes, [audience groans] not the entire dad joke, it can be like Pterodactyl. Stairs. Mat.

[aneurinallday]

Gibson and the Shivering Soldier

Chapter 5: Armistice

It was the evening of Saturday, June 22 1940 - eighteen days since Dunkirk - when Gibson’s world ended. The music on the radio was interrupted by the breaking news that they had all feared: France had fallen. At a few minutes past half-six, an armistice had been signed, indicating the nation’s surrender. It was over.

Until then, Gibson had held onto a sliver of hope that his people might endure - that the tides might turn against the invaders, and France might emerge from the chaos victorious. But now, that hope was gone.

Gibson didn’t sleep that night - William could tell by the dark bags under his eyes the next morning. William tried his best to carry on as normal - hoping that by projecting an air of serenity, he might soothe Gibson. It didn’t work.

The cosy little flat they shared together had been their refuge. Now it had become terribly claustrophobic - so much so that William took any opportunity to go outside. He went for walks, went to the park, went browsing the shops with no intention of buying anything - simply to get away from Gibson and his stifling aura of sadness.

Gibson showed no interest in accompanying him, preferring to spend his hours sitting by the radio, listening to words he didn’t understand, jumping from channel to channel as if searching for some hidden message. He didn’t speak, didn’t wash, and picked at his food with no appetite.

His frustration and resentment were palpable. He couldn’t understand the people around him, nor could he make himself understood. He was a literate man - he could read and write perfectly well in his own language - but here, he had nobody to talk to, nobody to share his thoughts with, nobody to answer his many questions. He was alone in a country he’d never been to before, stranded among people he could not communicate with.

He was desperately lonely, but his loneliness was rapidly turning into bitterness. He hated the situation he was trapped in. He hated the unintelligible voices and the unfamiliar food. He was homesick for a home that no longer existed - a home he would never return to. As far as he knew, he would never set foot on French soil again. Everyone and everything he’d ever known and loved was gone forever.

Early in the morning on Tuesday, June 25 - just past midnight, in fact - the armistice officially came into effect, marking the end of the hostilities and the beginning of a military occupation. Gibson couldn’t read the headlines, but he could see the pictures in the newspapers and the expression on William’s face. He could feel the atmosphere of stress and anxiety that had descended over the city, and his own mood darkened with it. William could see him drifting further and further away, sinking deeper and deeper into himself.

Supper that night was William’s favourite: bangers and mash. He ate hungrily, savouring the slightly caramelised taste of pork-and-apple sausages, gravy-covered mashed potatoes, and fried onions. Gibson simply sat and stared at his plate.

“Eat,” William said, miming the act of putting food in his mouth. “Eat before it gets cold.”

Reluctantly, Gibson took a sip of water, but still didn’t touch his meal.

“Something wrong with the food? You don’t like it?”

Gibson glared at him.

“Va te faire foutre,” he muttered under his breath.

“Alright then,” William sighed. “Would you prefer to eat by yourself? One of us can sit on the sofa.”

“Ma patrie…ma maison…ma famille. Tous partis.”

“Listen.” William set down his knife and fork. “I don’t know what you’re saying, but I gather you’re having a bad day. I wish I could make you feel better. I really do. But don’t take your anger out on me. I certainly don’t deserve it.”

Gibson didn’t understand the words, but he understood William’s tone, which - to his ears - was patronising and hostile. Moving with sudden speed, the Frenchman snatched his glass of water and hurled it full-force at the wall, where it shattered.

“Fils de pute!” he spat.

“My God. Just calm down, will you?” William’s own exasperation finally bubbled to the surface. “You’re serving nobody by lashing out - and especially not by lashing out at me. All I’ve done is help you.”

Gibson's face flushed with anger. Grabbing his plate of food, he threw it on the kitchen floor, the ceramic breaking with a loud smash. Leaping up, he summoned what little knowledge of English he had at his disposal.

“Fuck you!” he shouted. “Fuck you!”

“Oh, so you can understand my language now? Fine. Understand this: you’re acting like a child. Act like a damn man instead! I let you live under my roof, I take care of you, I share my clothes with you, I feed you. I show you nothing but kindness, and you repay me by breaking my things!”

“Fuck you,” Gibson repeated, and lunged for him.

William saw his fist coming and managed to dodge, his chair clattering to the floor as he jumped to his feet. Gibson let out a rapid-fire string of what sounded like obscenities, and swung again. William grabbed his arm and tried to restrain it. He was surprised to find that Gibson was stronger than him.

Broken glass crunched under their shoes as they wrestled across the kitchen. It was a clumsy, embarrassing struggle - two angry men, neither one stronger than the other, trying to avoid stepping in the mess on the floor while exchanging blows.

“Stop!” William commanded. “Stop! Don’t you fucking dare act this way!”

He shoved Gibson against the counter and attempted to pin him there. Gibson reached for the dish-drainer, seeking another plate to smash over William’s head, but it was out of reach. William grabbed a fistful of Gibson’s short, dark curls and wrenched his head back.

“I said stop!”

For a second, Gibson hesitated. He looked into the Englishman’s blue eyes as if seeking something - some signal, some confirmation. Then he pressed his lips hard against William’s. The kiss was brief, more of a suggestion than an overture.

It took a moment for William’s brain to catch up with the unfolding events. Gibson was scanning his face for a reaction, trying to gauge if they were about to fight or fuck.

“Oh, we’re doing this, are we?” said William. He spun Gibson around and bent him over the counter-top, their bodies pressing together. Cursing, he yanked down Gibson’s trousers. “Is this what you want?”

Gibson squirmed around to face him, and kissed him frantically. His fingers fumbled at William’s shirt, trying to undo the buttons, then gave up and ripped them open instead. William tried unsuccessfully to remove his belt, struggling with the buckle. He broke off the kiss to look down, but Gibson pulled him back in with a jerk. A sharp pain shot through his mouth as Gibson bit his lip.

“Ah, fuck!” William recoiled, pushing Gibson away, checking his lip for blood. As he did so, the ridiculous reality of what they were doing finally struck. “What is wrong with you?”

Anger returned to Gibson’s face, but this time, it was mixed with hurt. He pulled his trousers back up in embarrassment.

“Va te faire foutre!” he snapped, and stormed out of the kitchen.

William was left alone by the sink, dishevelled, his heart pounding painfully in his chest.

He realised the mess they’d made - the mess Gibson had made - and dealt with it as best he could, sweeping away the broken shards, mopping up the stains, collecting the fallen shirt-buttons. As he threw the spilled food in the bin, he seethed at the waste of precious rations. By the time he’d finished cleaning, his own food had grown cold.

He slumped down in his chair and put his head in his hands.

“This was a mistake,” he muttered. “I should never have let him come with me. Let alone brought him into my damn home.”

The last three days had been unbearable - he’d felt like he was walking on eggshells in his own home. Now a line had been crossed which couldn’t be uncrossed. They couldn’t continue like this.

Something had to change. Gibson had to go.

Sighing, William rose to his feet.

“Gibson!” he said wearily, “Or whoever the hell you are. We need to talk, and you need to listen.”

He walked into the living room, and found it deserted. The sofa was empty, and Gibson’s stolen green jacket - which he kept hung on the wall next to William’s - was missing. Gibson was gone.

Chapter 6: Respirer

[bestsnubbedeurovisionsong]

Propaganda under the cut

Fulenn:

It’s such a good and cool and fun song ?? Like, the genre is Celtic electronica which already just sounds super cool as a name, but it’s also just cool. The vibes were immaculate, they were serving that satanic ritual vibe that I know I’m not the only one to like. Also, the song is in Breton which is cool, like, yes, that’s also a part of the country !! The lyrics are about a legend from Brittany !

For the first time in years France brings a song that isn't a ballad and that isn't in French, but in the regional language Breton which is wildly underrated. The song, the act, the vibes, all of it was top five worthy! I will forever be bitter

Forest witch ritual music. Nothing more needed

Eastern European Funk:

This was a fun song :D

Oh my god, this was such a fucking good song. It's brilliant, there's all sorts of levels of piss take & protest going on here, we've got them taking the piss out of how Eurovision doesn't have live instruments anymore by first miming instruments and doing the noises acapella, then they bring in some foam stand ins a little later and the only real instruments they bring are two kazoos. Of course there's some theatre in there as well, can't go wrong with a little bit of a sparkly shorts reveal, but there's more to this than just that. Of course there's the lyrics about how Western Europe looks down on Eastern Europe and doesn't treat them as equally. Of course some of this could be said to be borne out in the competition seeing as this comes only a year after the EBU introduced juries to the comptetition, ostensibly to ensure "musical integrity" or somesuch but well look how far we've got with that lately hmm? Rather it seems that the juries are there to stop the naughty televoters voting for their neighbours regardless under critique of Eastern bloc voting as if it's that surprising that people living next to each other might share musical tastes and of course never mind that Western countries do that too. Presumably also Western countires were throwing their toys out of the pram cos Eastern entrants were taking the contest seriously and sending.... good songs. And winning. A lot. Shocking.

[oldguy56-world]

The Games People Play

Everyone likes to play some type of game. For my wife and I we have several favorites:

Where's my phone (daily)

Where's my glasses (at least once a week)

Who is that on TV and I thought they were dead? (multi times)

These are not the games I will be discussing however. I am of course referring to the Olympics. (Yes this is a follow up to the very popular Blog from last week talking about the opening ceremonies) I will not discuss the events because they are all shown 9 times a day and if you don't know what happened you are not interested so I will not waste my fingers. I will instead bring you up to speed on some of the happenings behind the scenes, which are interesting to say the least. Most names will not be used to protect the almost innocent so let's get going:

The triathlon was delayed but did you know they tried to have it happen by changing the first leg to a sprint across the Seine instead of swimming? What held them back was the test run where shoes seemed to melt on contact with the water.

A Slodovian weightlifter failed to read my last blog and as a result was not aware there was a video floating around showing a Bulgarian using the proper technique. As a result the Slodovian's testicles exploded when he tried to lift too much weight.

Canada was going to use a submarine to get some footage of swimmers from other countries in the pool but our only sub is currently being used at the West Edmonton Mall as a ride.

Snoop Dogg tried to entered the High jump, High dive, and the High Bar but backed out after the events were properly explained.

France tried to introduce their own version of the triathlon which featured smoking a carton of cigarettes, drinking a gallon of wine and eating two dozen croissants. Only Italy and Viet Nam were interested.

Another Slodovian accidentally ingested a full bottle of Viagra and had to change his discipline from the high jump to the pole vault. (really sorry about that one)

Another Slodovian (really rough Olympics for them) who was a boxer eliminated himself when he knocked himself out putting on his gloves.

The Turkish hitman in shooting purposely didn't take gold so that he could stay in the background and change disguises. (you really didn't think that was his real face did you?)

Finally, on a sad note, four French mimes were shot trying to escape from an imaginary box. Rumor has it police are searching for the shooter to present him or her with an honorary gold medal.

THOUGHT OF THE WEEK: Every camera should focus on the faces of some of the athletes that were not on the podium but still performed a personal best. Joy does not have to come just when you win. As far as i am concerned anyone who qualifies to be there is a winner.

[oskarpaffzz]

i want mime hc :3c

Mime

- Afab non-binary all prns bi

- He was born in France into a Catholic family with his twin sister. His full name is Michel Mimette, but everyone just calls him Mime because of his appearance.

- His parents are actors, and they wanted their children to inherit their profession, but due to the fact that Mim suffers from mutism, he could not normally read the text of the roles or sing, which contributed to his passion for pantomime.

- Sometimes he can make sounds or speak individual words, but this happens extremely rarely, and for the most part he communicates with gestures.

- She had long dreamed of and tried to get into the circus of Lumpy, but he rejected her. Therefore, at the present time she works part-time in a children's cafe as an animator-waiter (she hates it).

- She is a fan of Charlie Chaplin:3

- In fact, she quickly gets attached to people and easily falls in love with them, which is why some consider her annoying, but girls seem to like her.

- Mime is a reindeer, so despite their biological gender, they have horns.

[allgirlsareprincesses]

Random musings on violence, theory, and hearing indigenous perspectives:

A few years ago (2018?), I picked up a book on Rene Girard's Mimetic Theory. I only made it a few chapters in because it was dry AF and I typically need some kind of research goal (like a fandom meta or upcoming podcast recording) to actually get through the more intense academic lit. But due to recent events, I decided to pick it back up. If you're not familiar with Rene Girard, he's a 20th-Century Christian philosopher who proposed a mimetic theory of violence, which is to say that he believed human violence to be universally driven by mimetic desire. Mimetic as in "mime" or imitation, so people instinctively desire to be like the other or have what they have, and so this unconscious envy often drives violence. Or at least, that was my understanding from what little I read.

Only a few pages in on my second attempt, and I could not help an overwhelming feeling of disgust. The book argues against common critiques of Girard's work, including that he has an ethnocentric (white eurocentric) view, and that his so-called "universal" theory disregards diverse perspectives. In my opinion, the defenses given were flimsy, even without having read the full critiques themselves, and to that I would add one more: Highly educated cishet white men have no place creating theories of violence when they are so rarely the object of such violence. Reducing the lived reality and trauma of predominantly women, queer, non-Christian, non-white people to an academic theory is patronizing at best and harmful at worst, because it reassures the theorist of their own righteousness without requiring them to actively DO anything to stop the violence or take responsibility for the ways people like them have victimized others throughout history. It's ivory tower bullsh*t at its absolute worst.

Now granted, I know Girard was a young man in occupied France during WWII, so I'm sure he had some firsthand experience with violence, but he spent the rest of his life in relative comfort, protected by his privileged status. And perhaps if his work had focused on more diverse sources, I might be less critical of that status, but as it is, there's a heavy emphasis on European literature. Not even historical accounts! But "great novels" of Europe's past. And these are worth studying, sure, but you can't reasonably call any theory formed from them "universal."

This is also a huge problem with the work of Carl Jung and Joseph Campbell. Which again, IS NOT TO SAY THEIR WORK HAS NO MERIT. I personally still find it illuminating and thought-provoking. But eventually, we have GOT to stop considering white men the standard for academic and philosophical thought! It's so limiting!

And historically, given how much violence has been perpetrated by white men upon others, I think it's worth considering that any theories of violence they propose may be incomplete or corrupt, and in any case useless to the victims. Lastly, I'm not particularly impressed by many of Girard's modern proponents, who skew more right-wing and therefore are often aligned with institutionalized violence.

So yeah, I quit the book. At this point, I'm much more interested in seeking out indigenous perspectives in academic discussions. My interest in folktales has led me to many fem scholars of color who collect such sources, so I'm gradually building a reading list that I think will ring true to me more so than authors like Girard. If any of my lovely followers have recommendations or thoughts on what I've shared, I'd appreciate your input!