#either out of safety or internalized heteronormativity or whatever

[eleanorfenyxwrites]

The Sculptor

Chapter 10 - The Gift of Fire

[Final main chapter! I'll post the epilogue shortly and then this fic is done ♥ And please don't forget to check out @ceru-draws!! This fic wouldn't exist without their incredible piece The Sculptor (but Wangxian), and I seriously can't recommend their art enough, go give them some love! Follow them here, or on Twitter, or on Instagram, whatever you prefer, but just do it!]

[Masterpost] [AO3]

-/-

“How was the party?” Lan Wangji asks Wen Qing when she arrives home on Saturday afternoon, and he can tell the moment she walks through the door that something’s up. He looks beyond her shoulder to spot Luo Qingyang following her in, and he relaxes. He likes Luo Qingyang, truly and genuinely, and though he’s not typically fond of unexpected visitors, how could he be upset to see her? “Mianmian,” he greets, more warmly than he would greet anyone else who isn’t his wife or Wei Wuxian.

“Hi Wangji,” she says with a sweet smile up at him. “I hope you don’t mind-”

“You know you’re always welcome in our house, don’t ever apologize,” Wen Qing reminds her before Lan Wangji can say precisely the same. “We have news for you,” she then says to him, and he can’t help but blink at the barely-restrained aggression in her tone.

He reaches out to take the shopping bag from Luo Qingyang’s arms with an inquisitive noise in the back of his throat. The pair of them follow him into the kitchen, and when he sets the bag down with a rustle of paper and a glance back at them he catches them in the middle of communicating something between them with nothing more than sharp glances in his direction and thinned lips.

“What happened?” he asks with no small amount of alarm - considering the panic he’d felt over the party in the first place, he’s not inclined to think that any news they might have to give him together the day after will be anything good.

“Wei Wuxian is definitely gay.” Wen Qing says it like ripping off a bandaid, sharp and quick, and Lan Wangji so thoroughly appreciates his wife and her no-nonsense attitude in that moment that he can hardly breathe. “Mianmian’s Family - they’re the painters he shares Yiling Collective with, the theater director at the performing arts center in town, and Wei Wuxian.”

“He was there?” Lan Wangji asks when he feels like he can breathe again. He’s not sure what he would have done if he’d gone to the party with them and seen Wei Wuxian sitting there, surrounded by part of their little underground community in such a way that there could be absolutely no doubt as to his place in it, but it likely wouldn’t have been very dignified.

“No,” Luo Qingyang says apologetically and Lan Wangji exhales carefully. “But Uncle Xingchen had to run out to the studio for something and he said A-Ying was still in his side of the studio moping around. Uncle invited him to come but he said he didn’t want to show up at the party all sad and accidentally spoil our coming out. He started telling us about the piece he saw on the workbench, and when he described it to us Qing-jie knew for sure that my ‘cousin’ he kept mentioning was your Wei Wuxian. I didn’t even realize you were down there working with him until last night!”

Lan Wangji stares into the space between their shoulders and just..tries to think.

Wei Wuxian’s eyes come to mind first, laughing and intense in equal measure, heavy whenever they rest on him for any reason. His hands, never straying but…lingering, on the rare occasions Wei Wuxian finds a reason to touch him. His blushes, his praises, the way each image he’s made of Lan Wangji yet has been done with so much delicate care that it makes him want to blush just to think of them. 

He’d mentioned the end of their allotted time together twice within roughly 30 seconds of each other yesterday, and the reminder had settled uncomfortably under Lan Wangji’s ribs and stayed there, sharp as a razor whenever he breathes even today. Had it made Wei Wuxian just as upset? He’d seemed alright when Lan Wangji had left, but if Xiao Xingchen, who must know him well, had seen him just hours later and reported him back as ‘moping’ then what could have happened in the interim except Wei Wuxian thinking about their parting conversation?

“A-Zhan?” Wen Qing prompts quietly, and Lan Wangji forces himself to take a deep breath in. Hold it. Exhale slowly. “I want you to pursue this,” she tells him when he looks at her, her face as serious as it ever gets. “I want you to be happy. We can stay married, we can adopt A-Yuan, we can do everything we promised. And you can keep Wei Wuxian.”

“He’s single,” Luo Qingyang adds before Lan Wangji can attempt to get his feet back under him and he narrows his eyes at her - they’ve clearly coordinated this attack, but Luo Qingyang just smiles at him, falsely guileless. “And he told Huaisang forever ago that he was going to quit going down to the Corner Bar because hookups just aren’t what he wants anymore, he’s looking for more but he doesn’t think he’ll be able to find it.”

Lan Wangji wants to give him so much more that his knees nearly buckle under the weight of it, though of course only he knows just how close he is to losing his iron-clad control.

“Go sit down,” Wen Qing orders. “That’s a lot of information for 2pm on a Saturday, just go think about it, alright? We’re going to make Mianmian’s cookies to take across to Margaret, we’ll set some aside for you.”

Lan Wangji frowns a little at that, startled out of his spiraling thoughts by the utterly uncharacteristic decision from Wen Qing to not only bake cookies for someone, but specifically for a woman she claims to barely tolerate. As far as distractions go, it’s surprisingly effective. It’s Luo Qingyang who clears that up for him too, still smiling sweetly.

“I think Peggy’s one of us,” she says with a wink. “I’ve seen her snooping around the outside of the Corner Bar one too many times for her to have been ‘just a little lost’, I want her to know we’re here for her if she needs people to talk to.”

“Right,” Lan Wangji manages, and the only thing that keeps him from mumbling it is all his uncle’s comportment lessons as a boy. “That is…good. Mn.” He drifts out of the kitchen in a daze to return to his spot on the couch, mind churning uncomfortably through so much new information that he was in no way prepared for. He can hear Wen Qing and Luo Qingyang chatting quietly in the kitchen as they bake, occasionally breaking into laughter, and it soothes him to hear his best friend and her partner free to be themselves. Happy.

This is what he’d promised her. He’d sworn to her that they’d keep each other safe, that she could be herself with him and he would be there for her. Encourage her. He’s only realizing now that he’d never truly anticipated she would need to uphold her promises to do the same for him. He’d been so certain that he would spend his life entirely celibate, too afraid of being hurt, being in danger, to ever pursue a partner for himself. He had accepted that. But now, with the possibility of not having to accept it in front of him, it feels like his entire world has been flipped upside down. It’s terrifying. It’s uncomfortable.

But he knows Wei Wuxian. He trusts him. He, if he’s being honest with himself, loves him already. Desperately, in his own quiet, hidden ways. If pursuing that love means he has to feel like he’s falling up into space then he hopes he never finds his footing again.

“What are you going to do?” Wen Qing asks him quietly on Monday morning when he comes downstairs for breakfast, dressed for the day as usual in one of his most comfortable suits. “Will you tell him?”

“I do not know,” he answers honestly. He’s had a day and a half to think about it, and though he knows he wants Wei Wuxian, wants whatever the man will give him, he has utterly no idea how to go about actually getting it. Wen Qing had come to him on her own to ask him to start ‘dating’, and had proposed their marriage to him as well in her usual no-nonsense way. He has never once, in his entire life, practiced going after the things he wants like this, and certainly never with so much at stake.

Wen Qing, mercifully, leaves him to his thoughts without sharing any of her opinions on the matter (though he’s sure she has plenty). She sends him off at the door at the usual time with a reassuring squeeze to his hand and he appreciates it, the quiet reminder that no matter what happens he still has her. They’d promised - support and companionship. Security. He can be safe with her, even if everything else falls apart. 

When he arrives at the studio it’s to find Wei Wuxian only just arriving to unlock the door, his shoulders a little slumped and his hair tied up sloppily in a red ribbon, much brighter than the faded maroon of his shirt. Lan Wangji thinks of Luo Qingyang saying that he’d been ‘moping’ on Friday night, and he wonders with a pang if that’s still the case.

“Wei Ying,” he greets, and the man turns to look at him over his shoulder, already grinning at the sight of him.

“Lan Zhan! Right on time as always. Sorry I’m not already set up, I slept in this morning.”

“No need, Wei Ying deserves to rest.”

Wei Wuxian just chuckles at that and steps into the studio. The first thing Lan Wangji notices when he steps inside is that the place absolutely reeks of cigarette smoke, and he glances automatically at the ubiquitous little cardboard box that had taken up residence in Wei Wuxian’s pockets a few weeks ago. He hasn’t actually seen him smoking, but now he supposes that’s just because Wei Wuxian does it on his own rather than because he doesn’t actually do it at all.

“Ah…I’ll just. Open the windows,” Wei Wuxian says sheepishly with a little wrinkle of his nose that’s unfairly adorable.

“Mn.”

Lan Wangji shuts the door behind them and begins undressing. After having done it so many times he barely hesitates at all, even when it comes to removing his trousers which is still such a new development. His hands are shaking today like they haven’t since those first few days of undressing here, but he knows that at least this morning it has very little to do with baring himself for Wei Wuxian’s gaze - which, now that he can be honest with himself about his feelings, had thrilled him just as much as it had terrified him when Wei Wuxian mentioned it during that very first meeting.

“So - before you get comfortable on the sofa for the day,” Wei Wuxian starts with a smirk to invite him to join in the joke that is ‘comfortable’, as his pose is far from it, “I want to let you know that since I’ll be moving onto the final piece now I need to take some um..measurements. Well a lot of them, actually. To build to scale.”

It hardly takes any consideration at all for Lan Wangji to see the logic of that and he nods easily, unsure why Wei Wuxian is blushing about it.

It takes roughly two minutes more for Lan Wangji to understand the reason for that too.

He’s been measured for suits his entire life, stood on many a tailor’s podium with his feet spread shoulder-width apart and grit his teeth until the process was over. He has never once had a handsome man’s hands on his bare skin, measuring every conceivable part of his body. It’s a very different experience, and one he has no interest in ending any time soon. 

Wei Wuxian’s clever, lovely fingers skim across shoulders, ribs, down his arms, circle around his wrists…his neck. He finds a robin’s egg blue silk ribbon somewhere in all his many scraps of fabric and uses it to tie Lan Wangji’s hair up for him when it proves to be too inconvenient to ask him to hold it up out of the way in a loose bun on top of his head, and somehow the gentle hold of it at the back of his head, the bottom two thirds of his hair still hanging loose to drape over his shoulders, leaves him feeling more exposed than if it were all still gathered neatly out of the way.

He stands still in the middle of Wei Wuxian’s studio, in front of a mirror he’s never seen before but that Wei Wuxian seems to be using to help with the measuring process, and he settles into the low-simmering arousal of being naked for Wei Wuxian as the man, fully dressed, circles him slowly. Touches him, polite and businesslike but reverent in the same way he’s been every single time he’s ever touched him. Lan Wangji glances down on instinct when Wei Wuxian stops in front of him to measure the breadth of his chest from shoulder to shoulder and his next inhale catches when he sees Wei Wuxian’s sturdy leather boots so close to his own bare feet, a large fold in the stiffened skirt of his apron a hairsbreadth from brushing against his thigh.

Wei Wuxian has forgone his usual clay-stained overalls for the day, dressed instead in worn trousers and a sinfully soft short-sleeved button up, sleeves cuffed over the strong curves of his biceps, all of it haphazardly protected by a softened denim apron that does actually brush Lan Wangji’s skin in the next moment when Wei Wuxian steps just a centimeter too close. Lan Wangji’s hands are practically aching with the desire to push it all off him and strip him down as well, even as he thrills at the power dynamic of being so vulnerable in front of Wei Wuxian, still completely put-together and in control of Lan Wangji’s every movement.

Wen Qing’s question pings helpfully in the front of his mind again when he looks up from the narrow space between them to meet Wei Wuxian’s wide, dark eyes.

What are you going to do?

Wei Wuxian’s fingers twitch on his chest and he swallows once before he leans back to scribble messily in his notebook balanced on the edge of his workbench, the furniture shoved aside for the moment to accommodate the mirror and give them room for Wei Wuxian to circle around him easily. They continue on in silence like that - nothing but their breathing, the occasional creak of leather or the wooden floor, and the slither of the tape measure through Wei Wuxian’s fingers to break it - for almost half an hour before Wei Wuxian finally takes a step back and studies him, color high in his cheeks.

“I have a few more to do,” he says, which Lan Wangji had expected considering he hasn’t even done his legs. He nods and follows easily when Wei Wuxian sits down on his stool sandwiched carefully between the mirror and the overladen table that Lan Wangji has spent hours looking at over Wei Wuxian’s shoulder. He’s meant many times to ask him about the family of statues on the top of it and is tempted to ask now, but whatever’s happening between them right now is..fragile in a way he can’t explain, but that he knows he doesn’t want to break. He stands silently beside the mirror as Wei Wuxian leans over - stretching out the lean line of his body for Lan Wangji to savor - to drop his tape measure on the workbench and swap it out for a pair of wooden calipers. Lan Wangji can’t resist raising an eyebrow when Wei Wuxian clears his throat and gestures vaguely at his hips.

Not that he needs permission, Lan Wangji would give Wei Wuxian anything, but he nods anyway and offers the man his usual quiet but firm, “Mn.” The familiar gesture makes Wei Wuxian smile up at him and Lan Wangji slides his hand up the side of the mirror to curl his fingers over the corner of the sturdy wooden frame - he’s afraid his knees will give out from under him if he doesn’t.

Wei Wuxian’s hands are visibly trembling as he adjusts the calipers a few times anxiously without bringing them anywhere near Lan Wangji’s cock (which is not nearly as soft as would be appropriate in a professional setting, though it’s thankfully not hard either) - and then he suddenly reaches into his pocket to draw out a brand new pack of cigarettes to pull one out and pop it between his lips.

What are you going to do?

Lan Wangji reaches out before he can think twice about it to take the lighter from Wei Wuxian’s shaking hands. As Wei Wuxian looks up at him, startled, he maintains steady eye-contact as he flicks the lid back on its hinge.

Spins the wheel under the side of his thumb with a metallic ring. 

There’s a nearly inaudible whoosh as the flame catches, hot and bright in his hand, and then Lan Wangji holds it out at hip height, mere inches from his own pelvis.

If Wei Wuxian wants a light, he’ll have to lean in close to get it.

They spend an endless moment blinking at each other, and Lan Wangji thinks in that moment that an understanding of the sort they’ve been dancing around for two months, since the moment they met, finally passes between them. Wei Wuxian lounges sideways slowly, ankles crossed next to Lan Wangji’s bare feet, elbow resting on the back support of his stool. His calipers dangle carelessly from his relaxed hand as he raises the other hand to hold his cigarette steady between his index and middle fingers as he leans in, in, in - and holds the tip of it to the flame cupped in Lan Wangji’s fingers.

Lan Wangji tucks one ankle carefully in front of the other and settles in with a relieved little sigh, the weight of years lifted from his shoulders in the moment between Wei Wuxian lighting his cigarette and flickering his heated gaze up to meet his, eyes glinting with the warmth of the flame. 

Lan Wangji flips the lid of the lighter over to snuff out the fire with another metallic little click, fingers clutching tight around the cool metal of it nestled in his palm. Wei Wuxian breathes deeply, takes the cigarette from his lips, and turns his head to the side to exhale again.

“Lan Zhan-” he chokes, his gaze fixed on the bare expanse of wall beside them. “I can’t-”

“My wife is a lesbian,” Lan Wangji blurts, panic moving him to speak bluntly. Heated glances and mutual understanding, one queer man to another, are all well and good, but he also knows that Wei Wuxian is a good man, a righteous man - he won’t step anywhere close to what he sees as an unforgivable breach of trust, but Lan Wangji can’t lose him. Not now, not ever. He can force himself to speak clearly for the sake of something so vital. Wei Wuxian will keep him safe.  “She had her coming out just recently. Friday evening.”

Wei Wuxian looks up at him again sharply, eyes wide with quick understanding.

“Mianmian?”

“Wen Qing’s girlfriend of three months, as of this week.”

Wei Wuxian exhales shakily and takes another fortifying drag off his cigarette - and the moment he does he seems to remember just how it was lit, and by whom, and his cheeks flush the deepest red Lan Wangji has seen on him yet.

“And you, Lan Zhan?”

“Pleased that my wife has found a lover to make her happy. And…” Lan Wangji swallows down years of shame, embarrassment, longing for something he’d never hoped to have in order to add, “I believe it is time I allowed myself to find my own.”

Wei Wuxian stares up at him for a breathless eternity, and then in quick succession he tosses his cigarette down to the floor to grind the lit end between his boot and the wood, jerks to his feet, and then his hands are on Lan Wangji again, firmer than before and without the excuse of the tape measure to mask his intention. Lan Wangji releases the mirror and the lighter clatters to the floor beside their feet in favor of having his hands free to reach towards the other man, to cup Wei Wuxian’s jaw, both hands curled tightly against that beloved face so he can pull him in and kiss him with barely-controlled hunger. There isn’t an ounce of hesitation left in either of them as their mouths meet, parted and perfect.

Lan Wangji may take a long time to make up his mind, but when it’s made he does nothing by halves; now that he knows what it feels like to have Wei Wuxian melted against his chest, lips soft and open in eager permission for Lan Wangji’s clumsy, amateur kisses, he knows he can never live happily without it again.

[qqueenofhades]

Hi!! 💕I was reading across your medieval queer history tag, and I came to the part of Muslims and homosexuality where you mention the active / passive narrative that this activity had.

I had two questions and I don't know if you can help me with them. I was wondering if there was something similar to that position in Nicky's time (?) at the European part of the world. And based on that, would it be a problem for the sexual activities that Nicky and Joe might have had? (sorry for this insane curiosity) I don't know if I'm being clear, haha. I mean, would it be a problem being active/passive for Nicky and Joe? ( based on common Islamic and/or European thought of the 11th century)

Thank you!!

Hmm. I feel like this is a better subject for fanfic (i.e. how Nicky and Joe viewed their relationship in the early days) because it touches on something historians can’t answer: how historical individuals privately viewed their own internal/emotional decisions and preferences. Obviously, Nicky and Joe themselves are fictional, so the only inner feelings they themselves had about how their relationship first developed, whether in its sexual components or otherwise, are the ones that are created for them by a team of modern writers and showrunners. As a historian, I can offer some perspective on the institutional, legal, and societal mores and customs that influenced how queer behavior was collectively viewed, tolerated, or restricted, but I can’t say how any given individual would have then interpreted that to themselves. Obviously, some gay people have been raised in such deeply self-hating environments that their internalized homophobia is very embedded and they struggle for years to get over it. Some others have been raised in the same environment but have never actually accepted any of it and have less difficulty in leaving it behind. Once again, this goes into the realm of speculation rather than strictly provable history, and which goes double for fictional characters.

Queer people have always existed in a complicated and sometimes contradictory relationship with the mainstream (that is, often heteronormative) dominant society. Sometimes they accept all of it in an attempt to “pass” or because they have been taught to be homophobic, sometimes they choose to selectively adopt parts of it but try to live a secret “second life,” sometimes they reject all of it. These choices are conditioned by personal safety/family background, political, cultural, religious, and social environments, formal and informal education, kinship and friendship networks, positive/negative reinforcement, individual character, and so on. There is not necessarily a “wrong” choice for a queer person to make, because each course of action comes with its own risks and rewards, but if you’re choosing to embrace your queer identity and to live out its truth (as Joe and Nicky seem to have done relatively soon after they met), then that will involve an element of rejecting whatever constraints heteronormative society has placed on you. After all, the formal legal conventions about sodomy in the Middle Ages weren’t developed in consultation with actual queer people. They reflected the concerns of conservative establishment clergymen, who weren’t interested in promoting social acceptance of it (and yet again, this doesn’t touch on THEIR actual feelings or whatever they might have done in private). I’ve discussed the complexity of disentangling historical homoromanticism (which was pretty widely celebrated in the medieval era) and historical homosexuality (which had a rockier time, but as I wrote about in this ask, the attempted policing of sexuality and sexual behavior was as much the case for m/f relationships as m/m or f/f ones -- nobody got away from this and it wasn’t just for the gays.)

Basically, I personally don’t think that either Joe or Nicky would have had a problem with sex or certain sexual positions, just because if both of them had reached the point of deciding that a Catholic/Muslim was their true love and they were going to run off together and be a couple no matter what anyone said about it, that already entailed rejecting a huge amount of the ideology they were originally taught and grew up with. It’s again a subject for fanfic how much Joe and Nicky were personally comfortable with being queer before they met each other, so this would more likely be a rejection of religious teaching about the unworthiness/evilness of the rival faith (as Nicky says, the love of his life was from the people he had been taught to hate). Since almost all medieval queer behavior and views on queer people had a religious component, if Joe/Nicky had gotten as far as rejecting the religious tenet that told them the other was Evil, they were (again, in my opinion) extremely unlikely to use any of those old religious arguments for prohibiting or proscribing certain kinds of sexual activity. I’m sure they had to negotiate many issues in the early days of their relationship (as I write about in DVLA), but they’re clearly head over heels in love with each other, wildly attracted to each other and have been for almost a millennium, and eager to embrace the physicality of that relationship, so I don’t personally see this as being a major stumbling block.

That said, you did ask about European views on sodomy in the 11th century and whether there was a parallel to Islamic views on the moral acceptability of the active vis-a-vis the passive partner. Since antiquity, there has always been less “shame” attached to the penetrative/top partner in sex, no matter whether the receiving partner is male or female. Ancient Greece is another example of this, where the adult man could not be penetrated without insult to his manhood and dignity, but the fact of him penetrating a younger man/teenage boy was a fine and even accepted rite of passage. We can obviously talk about how this is related to phallocentrism and misogyny, because the person “receiving” sex is usually expected to be a woman or a woman-equivalent person, which entails lower social status. The dominant male can take whichever sexual partner he pleases, and it’s a mark of honor and status for him to be virile (the very, very ancient chestnut about why playboys are tolerated and admired while sexually active women are “sluts.”) The gender of his partners might not matter as much as their social class, their status in relation to his, his “right” to expect sexual availability from them, and a whole lot of other factors. This could be and also was the case in medieval Europe. But may we point out that the men engaging in these kind of explicitly unequal relationships, which are more about reinforcing power and control than real desire, are very, very unlike the equal and loving mutual partnership between Joe and Nicky, where they were clearly happy to please and respect the other in whatever way.

It has not always been the case that same-sex activity would automatically be defined and suspect, though yes, there has never been an instance in Western history where it was placed uncomplicatedly on the same level as opposite-sex activity. It had to be constructed that way. As I keep saying, modern homophobia is a lot more stringent and explicit than any medieval expressions thereof, because if “homosexuality” was not constructed as a clearly recognized identity, there was less ability to rail against it. In fact, the usual rhetorical tactic was to just ignore it. Sodomy is known as the “silent sin” or “peccatum mutum” in Latin, because moralists usually didn’t talk about it or discuss it or give it an actual framework for debate and thus implied legitimacy. There were obvious exceptions (Peter Damian, Peter the Chanter, Bernardino of Siena, Heinrich Kramer, etc, etc) and as the medieval era went on, homosexuality became more grouped in with other undesirables. But that also reflected a growing visibility/awareness among people as to what it was. As I keep saying, you can’t be anxious about something, you can’t be worried about people being susceptible to it, you can’t be worried that it’s happening in reality, if it’s just an abstract concern of rhetoric that only a handful of churchmen know about. The increasing visibility of queerness as a category of exclusion in late medieval polemics reflected a) the social stress of the crises of the late medieval world and the usual function of Others as a scapegoat and b) the fact that by then, people must have had enough awareness of it as a pattern of consistent behavior for clerics to get mileage out of attacking it.

Anyway. In an attempt to summarize: historians can’t possibly know how historical queer people felt about themselves, if they were influenced by societal or internalized homophobia (itself quite different from modern homophobia), how much of the dominant social narrative they accepted, the reasons for the choices that they made, if they saw their queer preferences as a sin or as a valid lifestyle, and so on. But it seems unlikely that historical queer people specifically in loving long-term relationships, such as Joe and Nicky, would be unduly tied to much of that, and that has always been the case.

[n-o-w-is-l-a-t-e-r]

Everything is Exploited for Survival Pt.3

In order to deal with pain, one must become empty. They must detach from any form, one must cling to a goal ardently and in turn you must shape your self within that image. This is the essence of succeeding in performance: characterization. This is the basis of whiteness: surface. Projecting an image is key. This is why whitef**e is essential. Blackness will always be abject in a white society because of whiteness will always foreground blackness, always cast its shadow amongst the behavior of POC's through its division. Naiveté is weakness, know!edge is power. Light = top (surface) and Night = bottom (darkness) Darkness takes no form, whereas light is separated. The surface is empty. Pretty is an illusion. Surface is the greatest illusion. For on the surface, we can convey anything. Always judge a book by its cover. We are always being watched, judged by how we appear and most importantly, judging ourselves based upon what we percieve our selves to be. Culture is the biggest illusion because it is based on precognition, existing in an image of someone else and then being orchestrated by its powers (morality).If someone else is doing it, than I MUST/HAVE to do it. These rituals are simulations, empty and meaningless, however, only we give it power. Uniform cultures have no meaning aside from the instruction of what came before. This is key to freeing yourself from the oppressive structure of others.  This is what makes identity politics so dangerous. Punk attempted to subvert the cis-heteronormativity of the dominant culture. In doing so, it resisted the strict formalism of gender in creating a space of protest. Safety pins, leather, vinyl, torn fabrics, and strewn textures all symbolized a subversion to the mass semantics. The Beautiful Surface-the false surface. The surface is fake, however, underneath is nothingness. Pretty empty. Beauty is the only reality. When you’re young, you're admired. When you're old, you're dead. The surface symbolism allows us to judge based upon what we choose to show and ultimately what we choose to see. Men, exploit. Women, are used.

The mind is programmed to function based on human logic. This is the root of divided consciousness. We are then indoctrinated and judged based on our perception of knowledge. Humans are bored by nature due to the construct of reality. They can never truly turn off the mind so they are in search of ways to continually stimulate their senses to their detriment. Eating, exercising, fucking, fighting, playing  everything is a distraction due to the divisive nature of humanity. In truth, we are empty devoid of meaning, devoid of any singular/objective purpose. This subjective filtered consciousness is what separates us, which prevents us from full interaction. We are all just dead inside. Emptiness is the ultimate reality. We can only remain free as long as we recognize our emptiness. In Fight Club, the very projection of the phallus (surface) is what keeps us from recognize the true reality: death. Duality is an illusion. Gender is an illusion. Everything is an exercise in futility. I am merely a copy of a copy. Give yourself to the darkness. Drag allows you to transcend gender in embodying an expansive version of yourself. You are no longee bounded by conventions of time. You transform into a character that although illusive on the surface is freed. Emptiness means fullness. It means being open to change constantly. The surface doesn't mean anything so have fun. Full of nothingness: Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player That struts and frets his hour upon the stage And then is heard no more: it is a tale Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, Signifying nothing. Stop looking for tomorrow and live right now,

Humor me. Lyrics to: "People Are Machines"

This is me...

Oh, this is me Neglected and obsolete, I am incomplete This is me returning to my stability This is me giving up and learning not to feel a thing

(We all work, eat, sleep, repeat Every one is a machine)

This is me preparing my grave in the shade, Learning that everyone loses their place under the sun eventually

This is me dealing with my discontentment and deficiency I am handing in my resignation and vulnerability My guts have been hollowed out There is nothing left for me to spill I'm covered in dust because my life has been sat on the shelf

I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I don't feel a thing

I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I don't feel a thing

This is me going back to bed, destroying all my intents This is me going back to bed, abandoning all of my friends This is me going back to bed, destroying all my intents This is me going back to bed, abandoning all of my friends

I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I don't feel a thing

I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I don't feel a thing

I'm a machine I'm a machine I'm a machine I don't feel a thing

Every one is a machine Work, eat, sleep, repeat...

Fabulations The visible sleeve Which separates that which is unseen Whole nothingness non-form man is a dildo, separated from oneness. Empty masculinity, empty form, always symbolic, A woman is both inside and out, always embodying her opposite A man is closed, and cums on the outside (power) A mans identity is comprised of his hardness Whereas a woman her liquidity, her freedom of expression The essence of formalism is symbolic, always determined by gesture By the basis of social formalism, what is defined as masc. or fem. Men are pyramids, closed external Women are opened internally The phallic seperation

Dragon Ball Z: All Consuming Destructive Masculinity. This system comprises itself on fear, on the competitive advantage of those who are already head due to hegemonic influence such as property, wealth, etc. Those that exist at the bottom are at a disadvantage because they don't have access to the resources needed to fully assess and leverage their reality. On top of that, the market pumps these food desserts chock full of cheap, toxic waste foods which poisons the development of their minds. Those who are at a disadvantage are only capable of doing. They want all those of whom exist at the bottom to do their bidding: working the slave jobs, doing work day in and out so they can continue to exist in squalor. These are empty souls born into a world where they must constantly work or they suffer the consequences. Empty people are clones: copies of copies of copies produced for the purpose of massive consumption and the wealth of those at the very top. The illusion (trap) of gendered dualistic bodies keeps us misaligned intentionally keeping us from the neutral whole. We don't need tradition. Edna Pontellier was aware of the construct of gender both biologically and psychologically. She was able to release her bodily form her oceanic suicide symbolic of the wholeness regained, no longer fragmented by whom she is suppose to appear to be (rigid formalism). The ocean is the fullness of emptiness, of sublime nothingness. Women are freer than men. Unbounded by the hardness that consumes men, they are able to devote themselves to whatever they choose. Formalism/socialization is very harmful in that it denotes separation. I don't believe. Nothingness- which is comprised of everything is alive, truly loose and free of any worry. This is perfectly comprised in the song Lost in Music by Sister Sledge, the wavy ethereality of the nothingness, free from vanity and selfish materialism. Joss Stone also mentions this freedom in her song The Answer, freedom from worry. I'm going to free myself. Free myself from worry, from fear. I'm going to put it all on the line because, honey, I'm all I got. Narcissistic form and function: The sensual world is empty. an empty body, a vessel of surface reflection that is utterly meaningless in creation. A slave of form is someone who is utterly materialistic. Concerned only with their senses, and ultimately how they appear amongst others. Their only goal is to fit in, do as they are told. They are ignorant of their circumstances on earth and either only question their reality to a limited extent or nearly not at all. To avoid any potential pain they avoid themselves from anything that may trigger them concerning their seemingly limited existence. They will toil away, committing themselves to ideologies that is most logical for their “humanity”. In the end there is no meaning, no singular purpose only an ego based one that allows one to construct their reality however they see fit. There is a way for us to exist in the material world while recognizing simultaneously that it doesn't truly mean anything. I can fuck someone while remaining completely detached from him/her because I don't need to own them. This is beauty of futility is it doesn't mean anything, truly. Beauty and the Beast. The beast is cold materialism, separated from the whole of nothingness by vanity and greed. The body is separated from the spirit and ruled by the mind. It is an object, the penis (phallus)is just a tool. Gaston is an example of pure ego form: materialistic, selfish,and ultimately lacking in emotion. Belle is the spirit, the anti-matter full of overflowing love and grace. Sensitive to the world. Inception: the restless materialism conveyed by Dom is an example of how far he is willing to detach himself from the present-which is full of love. He further expands into an empty world that eventually infects the perspective of his wife Mal, who can longer distinguish what is real and what isn't. She commits suicide but this memory is lodged deep in Dom's basement (subconscious), symbolizing both his avoidance and his attachment out of grief/guilt. Mal is a projection of his subconscious but he cannot seem to let her go this projection interferes with the inception that has taken place. Mal’s suicide is also symbolic of the lost feminine, the love that Dom has lost due to greed. He finds redemption and learns to exist in the present. Dom is symbolic of the demiurge, and its construction. White materialism is always determined through control. The very basis of white culture is animalistic, always insisted upon greed. Love, is useless in a white materialist, patriarchal system. Transcending form (ego): transcending age, appropriateness, always being childlike in exploration, always living in the now or at least. affirming it daily. Accepting and giving love routinely. Affirming the nothingness that is the ultimate nothingness. Excerpt from Art as the Absolute: Art's Relation to Metaphysics in Kant, Fichte, Simone In this current age, The Kali Yuga (Iron Age) is a period involving man's lowest degradation: the senses. We exist primarily in the sensual world where we value fame,money,power (symbolic),and everything else concerning the sensual body (ego). Humans only exist for the pursuit of pleasure. Places of divine intention such as ashrams are replaced by competitive profit-based materialist institutions. The world becomes chalk full of illusions based on glamourous appeal (surface. Nothing is as it seems. Delusional fear based ideologies are used to control the quantity of life. Much like the depiction of Patrick Bateman in American Psycho (1999)Everything becomes artificial.

Whiteness is a mirror. It utilizes light (surface) in both projection/reflection. Whiteness is a mutation, for it mirrors its subjects. It is a cannibalistic subjectivity as consumption is central to its power.  for it is utilized in the process of glamour. It is use to charm those who are in opposition, thus creating luminance (haze-mind control). The best way to deflect is to become aware of the glamour (haze) this is best done through direct analysis. This tactic is often used on those whom are the most susceptible aka naïve children and most likely women. These targets are the easiest to control: Diffuse reflection is the reflection of light or other waves or particles from a surface such that a ray incident on the surface is scattered at many angles rather than at just one angle as in the case of specular reflection. An ideal diffuse reflecting surface is said to exhibit Lambertian reflection, meaning that there is equal luminance when viewed from all directions lying in the half-spaceadjacent to the surface. A surface built from a non-absorbing powder such as plaster, or from fibers such as paper, or from a polycrystalline material such as white marble, reflects light diffusely with great efficiency. Many common materials exhibit a mixture of specular and diffuse reflection.

Links: o Is the Mirror Racist? Interrogating the Space of Whiteness by Shannon Winnubst o ‘Foucault, Femininity, and the Modernization of Patriarchal Power’, in Feminism and Foucault: Reflections on Resistance, ed. Irene Diamond and Lee Quinby. Rocha evokes an ethereality that I admire, a form that engages with both the real and the surreal. It exists in a place that is non-gendered that is equally whole and fractured in its components. It exists in a realm that is open. We exist in a masculine age. Hot and hairy. vulnerability / sensitivity are not valued as highly as intellect. Science, the study of surface mechanisms is the new religion. Metaphysics is not integrated into this system. Mechanics, engineers, technicians are the highest form of intellectualism in this era. They replace the form of the biological mother, creating machines instead of humans. The masculine era also breeds competitive cultures which forces one either to adapt or die. The patriarchal matrix (kali yuga aka Agni-Fire Age *Iron): Dominance of fire over water and every other force on the planet. This polarity throws everything out of balance as fire cultures are based on conflict (war) and control (hegemony) Water based creatures turned into a hierarchy of servants or slaves. Difference is demonized, and or disciplined into servitude or the more extreme: eradication. The dominance of kings and the sharp incline in narcissism begins. Fire dominant (father) based systems become instated through war. Religion becomes a dominant moral system. The primitive societies transition from gathering into hunting/agricultural systems. The soul “holy spirit”-divine feminine becomes erased, the mother is lost. The birth of glamour (film industry) begins, the camera is always “on”. Voyeurism/exhibitionism is the mode. Gods Puppets: Narcissism, Hegemony, and the GOD complex in the dawn of Western Civilization o It’s always the narcissist who believe they are God. o The narcissistic god is Aries (Agni) the Fire God who is controlling. o Filmic Example: Embrace of the Serpent- the Christian missionaries who converted the South American tribes and turned o Gender mimesis. Discipline is the mode of control in a patriarchal hegemonic matrix. Discipline allows. We will all evolve into white men through white ideologies such as Christianity. Jordan Peterson is correct, Independence is freedom from the chain. Freedom is being able to exist as yourself at all times. Love is care. we're all just heading towards death. The Ray of Light: Pyramid of success (ascension)

There is no sexuality, only energy. The tradition of gender is illusive in that it requires opposition. BREAK THE BINARY. The only purpose of sex is reproduction. This creates culture. When a man wants a woman, he years for his mother: loving, warm, affectionate. When a woman wants a woman, she wants fluidity. I was told I was greedy because I wanted more. Because clearly valuing my needs over others was considered lazy. The competition of opposites is useless when everything is available. When there is so much diversity present it is pointless to argue your point when you should just let live. Shame- of not knowing what to do and becoming frustrated by my abilities lack thereof and putting off my progress through laziness. I had no discipline in my early home life so I was adept at being lazy. I yearned for stability and yet the very foundation of my home life was the definition of unstable. Such is life you live and you change, you grow and then you die. Part of innocence is ignorance. A child is not aware of the circumstances that awaits them so they must learn to adapt to the suffering. Life in truth is suffering. My mother sugar coated the truth and breeded weakness in her children. She got a man who was disciplinarian, who would step in place of my father. Blinded by the guiding light Our truths hidden by expressions. Exploring the Ascent of Narcissism through Humans in Aronofskys Mother!:  Is a gnostic tale of separation (duality) energies that grow further apart due to the Father/Sun(Javier Bardem) narcissism. Mother (Gaia/Sophia) played by Jennifer Lawrence is the embodiment of the heavenly maternal; love, affectionate, caring. She is matter, Gaia, the earth itself. The house is symbolic of the divine feminine from which all matter arose Father/Sun (Yaldabaoth) conveyed by Javier Bardem is the patriarch. He “created” the realm of matter. However this realm is false. His room at the top of the house symbolizes the Mind: logical, prescient, and illusive. He craves more and more attention and this begins to take form through the creation of humans. Adam and Eve (Brother and Sister) are replicas of the duality of the feminine and the masculine, however, imperfect. Their flesh is flawed through its own ignorance. This is symbolized through the death of the first human death, Abel by his brother Cain. The curse of Cain was Whiteness, which eventually separated him. Through this very act we begin to see the  begins to tear the relationship between the two even further as more humans multiply thus intruding their once quiet home (oneness) Patriarchy-Iron Age-Yang (Kali Yuga): • Male-centric patriarchal societies controlled by men. • Hierarchal systems • The dawn of initiatory “Secret Societies” • GOD (Male) • War • Poverty