#40S&W

[call-me-remi]

In memory of Gaston Glock.

[9x19-balaclava]

[sixofclovers]

just regular human ninja teens

[fluttershyes]

[l0uisebrooks]

Alicia Markova in "The Dying Swan" photographed by Carl Van Vechten, 1948.

[kulturegroupie]

Hedy Lamarr in The Heavenly Body | 1944

[genderkoolaid]

some musings on transmasc mulan:

i think the reason why Reflection & mulan as a trans man is impactful to me is the fact that mulan appears as a woman and has the social role of a woman. i love rep of transmascs who are fully transitioned/present masc or male! but ive thought a lot about the erasure & invisibility of transmascs throughout history. the bits of our history we do have tend to be people who had the ability to pass as men, but there were undoubtedly so many trans men&mascs who lived as women, who could not pass well enough to live full-time as a man, who were wives and mothers! and idk i find it really impactful to read Reflection as the pain of a trans man in the closet, or who doesn't even realize that being a man is a Thing they can Do. i love how it touches on the pain of failing to be a woman. i think part of it is how often people want to dissociate trans men from misogyny, or at least control how we are "supposed" to relate to it. again, the mainstream (queer) narrative around transmasc history (and present) is trans men who could/can pass as cis men, who live their lives fully stealth. but there are and always have been many transmascs who live as women, most or all of the time, and who have to struggle with the demands of misogyny to be good daughters/wives/mothers, and the knowledge that to be a trans man would make you such a disgrace and disappointment ("if i were truly to be myself, i would break my family's heart"). i think its important to give a voice to the trans men past and present who live as women and their gendered experiences! i desperately want to give a voice to every trans man throughout time who lived and died in a dress, who had children, who thought they were the only one or who didn't even understand what or why they were.

obviously mulan does crossdress and does pass as a cis man, but specifically "Reflection" to me means a lot because i love how it can be read to be an expression of closeted transmasculinity. with transmascs, the bits of history we do get are constantly scrutinized by everyone; there's an unspoken rule of "cis woman until proven otherwise, why do you want to erase women?" and again! thats just when it comes to "women who crossdress" situations! people are so stingy when it comes to who they will "allow" transmascs to claim, seeing a "feminine cis woman" expressing transmasculinity feels transgressive in a very good way to me. also, i think we need more recognition that there are a lot of feminine women who really wish they were men (because they are), and its important to represent that experience and make it clear that being feminine (while presenting as a woman, or in general) does not mean you can't be a man.

[four-pointed-leaf]

why me?

[scooterscoob]

[a moment of solace]

[themitchiemitch]

Hedy Lamarr, Ziegfeld Girl (1941)

[wynandcore]

The one and only.

[sclappin]

There is a very specific type of character that hurts my heart so, so badly that I have to go lay down if I think about them too hard, and it's whatever Claudia and Laura both are.

I think they should hang out. I think they should scream together. I think they should commiserate. I think they should keep their secrets while sizing each other up. I think they should talk about girls they like.

[atomic-chronoscaph]

The Shadow (1940)

[shalomniscient]

maybe hot take but i do think it’s entirely possible to romance arlecchino even if you didn’t know her before clervie died, it’ll just take a really, really long time. the slow burn of the century, even. obviously there are things you have to be, like an ally to the house and a fatui member, but beyond that it’s really just a waiting game. it’s the progression from colleague to ally to trusted confidant before she would consider even looking at you platonically. and then maybe years of being just friends, at least to her, before she realises that maybe what she feels for you at this point goes beyond the bounds of friendship.

of course, when she realises this, she vanishes off the face of teyvat for a good month or so to go on a nice emotional crisis bender. maybe she even deploys you to some other corner of the continent to very pointedly avoid your presence because uh oh, feelings, and she has 0 clue what to do. sucks to be her, though, because she is also very pointedly miserable without your company. not in super obvious way—it’s arlecchino—but her kids and subordinates will notice that she’s slightly… off. always looking to her side where you’re supposed to be, but aren’t. it takes her a while and maybe a trip to that old broken arena, looking out at the vast sea before she finally reconciles her feelings with herself.

she loves you. not the same way she loved clervie, never the same way—but she loves you.

when she calls you back to her side she most certainly does not breathe a word of this to you. and it’ll take her even more time to do that step, carefully assessing your every action and reaction. she asks the children about you more, and they share knowing glances. your likes, dislikes. hobbies and even guilty pleasures. she almost unconsciously starts to court you, but plays it off as fortunate coincidences.

the director of this new play at the epiclese happened to give me two tickets for free. care to join me?

there’s a new item on the menu at hotel debord. i intend to try it; i believe some of the children may enjoy such things. however, a second opinion would also be valuable. shall we?

(the fact that the play is a romance one and the menu item is a couples’ special is a fact she conveniently avoids bringing up.)

i imagine she’d confess eventually in a surprisingly casual way. maybe you’re both standing on the shore, watching the sunset. the both of you talk about unimportant things, but it’s only with you that arlecchino wants to indulge in these unimportant things, if only to hear the sound of your voice. she’d say the words under the light of the pale moon, always having been more comfortable under the silver light than that of the sun’s. she won’t say the words outright, no i-love-yous, but something just enough.

you are valuable to me, she’ll say, watching the waves roll, as if simply stating another unimportant thing. but her body betrays her, the subtle tense of her shoulders and the way her fingers twitch by her sides. you are not expendable.

it’s fine, though, because you’ve known her long enough to know what she means. and when she finally kisses you for the first time it’s with the slightest hint of hesitance and uncertainty, but there is a sincerity in her that you could not deny if you tried. that night you walk back to the house with your arm looped in hers, and as she watches you watch the world she thinks she could never go back to the one she had before you.

[fumifooms]

Dad always said I was like him

Meijack and Chilchuck Tims Dungeon Meshi, Ryoko Kui

^ 1: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 2: Bug like an angel, Mitski / 3: Woodtangle, Mary Ruefle / 4: The Third Hour of the Night, Frank Bidart / 5 & 6: FROM THE MAKERS OF "TWO-MOM ENERGY DRINK," IT'S "LET YOUR FATHER DIE ENERGY DRINK,", Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 7: Batman: Year Three (1989) / 8 & 9 : FROM THE MAKERS OF […], Daniel Lavery & Cecilia Corrigan / 10: Wilt, CJ the X / 11: How Do We Forgive Our Fathers, Dick Lourie / 12: Milk and honey, Rupi Kaur / 13: And My Father's Love Was Nothing Next To God's Will, Amatullah Bourdon / 14: Moony moonless sky, Fatima Aamer Bilal / 15: Someday I’ll Love Ocean Vuong, Ocean Vuong / 16: untitled, Joan Tierney v 17: Drunk, The Living Tombstone / 18: unknown

When your father tried his best to provide for you but he worked all the time and even when he was home he was either tired or stressed and he’s always liked to get drunk to relax and cheer up. When you know he values work ethics and respectability so you grew up to be capable and quiet. And when he says you’re like him you’re sort of puzzled, does he really know you so little, or does he know himself so little? But you like the feeling of your father ruffling your hair so you accept it, and still you stand next to your mother just as silent and just as stoic as her during family gatherings. He leaves again and again and when your mother leaves him nothing changes, really. You wonder if it’s more telling that you know him better than he seems to himself or that you don’t know him as much as you wish you did, or that you don’t think about him all that much these days. Out of sight, out of mind. And he’s never really been there, even when he was there, after all.

[hwoaarang]

I'm running out of time...