#got to love San Francisco

[good--merits-accumulated]

If we for a moment forgo canon events and disagreements then I do wholeheartedly hope and believe that Todd and Neil get married during the '70s. It's a sunny afternoon on the perfect day in mid-spring and the light is at its thickest and most golden and Charlie got registered as an officiant just for this day and not everybody's present - Meeks can't make it from Switzerland on short notice, but they get a photo of him and prop it up on the coffee table at the perfect angle to see. Neil keeps wondering if he's going to get the pre-wedding jitters and does end up pacing around the living room early in the morning, but it's less cold feet and more impatience. (Turns out it's kind of hard to get cold feet when your almost-husband is sitting drowsily on the couch to keep you company and he keeps almost nodding off and you keep remembering all the ways in which you love him.) Ginny barges in at noon with hairspray and a sewing kit and insists on making bouquets with shitty grocery store flowers for both of them and Todd's suit ends up with a hastily added elbow patch and Neil's tie doesn't match his pocket square, because one's from Cameron and the other's from Knox. (Something borrowed, something blue...) It's perfect. In the end they go out on the balcony and Charlie's wearing this really tacky priest outfit, just really shitty fabric so that he's probably sweating bullets, and the collar's come untucked, and at the last moment Chris shrieks, "You forgot your bouquets!" and throws one with such good aim it hits Todd in the face. But they get through the vows and both of them only cry a little, because Cameron cries enough for all of them combined, and then that's it - over - and married. And as Charlie beams and says they can kiss there's a well-timed shower of rice from the balcony above, and congratulations, from some upstairs neighbours and well-wishers. Pitts catches the kiss on his expensive video camera and he also catches the cheering, which is so loud that, four blocks away, a lone man packing up his street food van pauses in closing boxes and thinks that there must be a party going on. He's right. And at the end of the night when the last loved one leaves and shuts the door gently behind them to not disturb the newlyweds lying together on the couch, silent with happiness, it's still perfect. At that moment it doesn't matter that there is no piece of paper, or no registry office, or that if Todd has an accident Neil might not be able to visit him in the hospital room. There will be tears for those things, but they come later. For now they're married. The beautiful thing never changes.

[lastflunky-draws]

It's the Chick Tract sins but with Lupin III. In 2019 I was in America and saw a Chick Tract with my own two eyes, this was the inspiration for this. You can look at the original under the cut.

[lesmurples]

So Spotify Wrapped reminded me that I saw the San Francisco production of A Strange Loop this year, and listening to the soundtrack now I’m reminded just how damn good that show was. I really hope there’s another staging of it sometime, or the release of a video recording if one exists. (Or even a decent bootleg, I’ll take anything 😭)

The staging was beautiful, just an excellent example of what you can do with minimalism and lighting. And the ensemble cast was phenomenal - they sound amazing together in every production I’ve heard, and the concept of each of the cast being “thoughts” who trade parts around would potentially be a hard sell in another production, but here it feels seamless. I’m really impressed that it was able to take such a nerdy, high-concept and pretentious story structure and make it feel so accessible. Excellent writing and acting all around. “Entertainment as undercover art” indeed. The Usher we saw (Malachi McCaskill) was also exceptional and gave an incredible performance.

I think A Strange Loop is a great example of how much you can do by increasing specificity in artistic representations of identity. Creators seem to often be pressured to make identity-focused stories as broadly appealing as possible, making it so that their (for example) queer characters are everymen who just happen to be queer. And of course that usually means your “everyman” has to be a white cis able-bodied guy who is overall readable as “straight” unless you happen to know his orientation. And if he isn’t that, he’s as close to it as we can possibly get him.

By making a “Big Black and Queer-ass American Broadway show” about a fat gay black man trying to make it on the NYC theater scene, I think you actually create so many more opportunities in which an audience can relate to the protagonist’s experience. You don’t have to be a fat gay black man to relate with feelings of inadequacy, or struggling to make it in your professional field, or feeling too ugly to have a good sex life, or having a complicated relationship with your parents. Even if you don’t fully fall into the category of “fat gay black man,” it’s likely that you might identify with at least part of that experience, and you can exercise your imagination and empathy to engage with the rest. In comparison, I think a lot of us struggle to relate to a bland, filed down “everyman” character, despite the fact that he’s meant to be more “broadly appealing.”

A Strange Loop is unapologetically about blackness, and specifically the experience of a queer black person who sometimes struggles to relate with wider black culture. I am as white as wonder bread, and I was prepared to not directly relate with aspects of this musical, but I knew I’d still probably be able to enjoy it because, yaknow, it’s not actually that hard to understand media about experiences that don’t match your own. 🤷

But I found myself relating to the story way more than I expected. The details don’t fully align, but I too have had to navigate the world as a fat queer person unable to feel true “pride” about myself. I too have a strained relationship with conservative parents who are “loving” but deeply toxic and painful to speak with. I too feel the weight of capitalism crushing down on me, wanting to find “success” in this hellhole of a world but knowing I’d have to compromise my values in order to do so. I am not very similar to Usher on the face of it, but because his story focuses so much on the multiple specific experiences he has in this world, it’s actually way easier for me to find common ground with him than if there was just nothing there.

And while I can’t relate directly with Usher’s experience of blackness, I’ve heard enough stories and listened to enough black creators that I can at least follow his story and comprehend its connotations. If I didn’t come into the show having some background knowledge, then perhaps I would be inspired to learn more based on the representation I’d been made aware of, especially because of the ways in which I could relate and was invited to empathize. I hope we see more successful productions like this, where the specificity and messiness of intersectional, marginalized identity is allowed to exist as it is, because odds are that more people will be willing to engage with it than you’d think.

Anyway, really good show. It’s super fucking funny, and poignant, and deeply sad and vulnerable. I hope anyone reading this gets a chance to see it in some form if they haven’t already.

Also MVP award to Tarra Conner Jones in the SF production, she was SO GOOD. Absolutely everyone was phenomenal - shout-out to John-Andrew Morrison too, his performance of “Periodically” makes me fucking cry. The SF and Broadway and Off-Broadway casts are all amazing. God I love this show.

Edit: OH SHIT I found a clip of the cast I saw! They really were fantastic.

[girlivealwaysbean]

i know logically i should hate lestat too.. but something about him feels WRONG... when he said 'a lion applauded for not killing her cubs' CUBS AS IN PLURAL he feels so fucking guilty oh my god

[deklo]

the old woman at the bar i regular said she likes talking to me :) because she doesn’t have to explain things to me :)))))))) I LOVE HER!!!

[biitchcakes]

A hasty trip up California's winding coast finds Spider-Woman's alter ego, JESSICA DREW, strolling the hilly streets of the BAY. By DAY, she rides the wind-whipped CABLE CARS, lets her palate savour the infinite culinary delights of CHINATOWN, and watches, with GIRLISH WONDER, as sea gulls do air dances over FISHERMAN'S WHARF. . . But NIGHT finds her stalking the city's shadow-shrouded UNDERBELLY, lost in a maze of indistinguishable BARS AND BISTROS that are united by the pathetically common thread of CONFUSION and DESPERATION in the air ⸺ ⸺ as clearly as the smell of LIQUOR and CIGARETTES.

❛ APPARENTLY I HAVEN'T GOT A MONOPOLY ON FEELING LIKE AN OUTSIDER IN A WORLD THAT'S GROWN TOO COMPLEX FOR ITS OWN GOOD . . . ❜

( personals DNI . )

[age-of-moonknight]

“New Kids on the Block,” Spider-Woman (Vol. 8/2023), #7.

Writer: Steve Foxe; Penciler and Inker: Ig Guara; Colorist: Arif Prianto; Letterer: Joe Sabino

[itsalwaysdark]

the world if sims 4 had more lots per world

[graveyardrabbit]

[l3viathanss]

I AM GOING TO DIE OF HAPPINESS!!! i traded my silly "paul gets born" comic with MAIA KOBABE!!!!!!!!!!! i've made it in life

[domesticangel]

le labo another 13, thé matcha 26 and neroli 36 for emmy 🖤 btw. If u even care

[deklo]

it is ohhhh so foggy and cool and smells like SUMMERRRRRR

[stonesandswords]

.

[countless-potr]

Omg I reached the tag limit, I didn't know there was a tag limit

The Worst Attraction in Every State

[minecraftgender]

look what I bought for pc :D I'm so excited to play prototype on my beefy, beautiful pc

[rumplereids]

research purposes.

tags: spencer reid x reader. tech analyst!reader. mentions of 50 shades of grey. bau ladies are like gossiping wine moms. fluff & crack, bcos spencer has been thru enough already. referenced/mentioned sexual acts but nothing explicit. a/n: got inspired by aj cook implying mgg was reading 50 shades + the table read of cm where mgg’s name card was “matthew 50 shades of gray gubler” masterlist. requests are open !

The team is on the jet home from a consultation in San Francisco. Everybody’s either dozing off (Emily and Derek), eating (Rossi), or doing paperwork (Hotch, as usual). JJ is scrolling on her phone, catching up on the pictures and videos Will sent of Henry when she notices something very bizarre.

“Reid, are you reading 50 Shades of Grey?”

“Huh?” he looks up from the paragraph he was reading. Something about not making love and only fucking hard. Or whatever drivel he’s suffering for you.

“I didn’t peg you the type to be reading romance or erotica.”

“It’s for research.”

JJ quirks a brow Spencer doesn’t see. His eyes already returned to the book in his hands.

“Research? For Y/N?”

“Yep,” Spencer turns a page.

JJ continues to gape at him. She wants to press for more details, but with a shake of her head, decides she was better off not knowing the intricacies of the relationship of people she considers her siblings. No matter how baffled she is by the fact that Spencer Reid is reading 50 Shades of Grey, she doubts that she’d want to dip a toe in that rabbit hole. However, she has no qualms of bringing up this certain knowledge in the near future.

Spencer was in a rush to finish his case load for the day. It’s your day off, so he’s doing anything he can so that he can go home earlier than usual. With you out for the day, he can’t even pop into your office to bug you, talk your ear off, or have an impromptu make out session. It was so sad, really.

He’s down to his last three folders when Derek attempts to get his attention.

“Pst! Pretty boy,” Morgan whisper-yells.

“Yes?”

“How’s Y/N?”

Spencer’s a bit perplexed by the question. While it’s not unusual for Derek to worry about your well-being, he finds it a bit weird for Derek to be asking such a question at that exact moment. As far as he knows, you texted Derek 15 minutes ago about mold on the street that you insist looked like the aforementioned man. That was the last time Spencer talked to you as well.

“She’s fine. Enjoying her day off.”

There’s a big grin crawling across Derek’s face. Such a look on a man like Derek Morgan spelled trouble. He looks like he knows something that Spencer doesn’t. Spencer’s starting to get cautious.

“Anything exciting happened to you guys this weekend?” Derek asks with that shit-eating, I-know-something-you-don’t-know grin.

Spencer raises a brow.

“Not much. The usual,” Spencer flips a page in his file.

Morgan hums, “Ah, yes. The usual.”

Spencer looks up at Derek, perplexed. Having no idea what in the world Morgan is trying to get to.

“Late night?” Derek continues. Spencer shuts the folder in his hands.

“Are you trying to insinuate something?”

“I don’t know, am I?”

Spencer rolls his eyes and returns his attention to his work. Completely ignoring the chuckles coming from Morgan.

A few days later, Spencer is making his second cup of coffee at the office kitchenette, bracing himself for another round of paperwork when he hears somebody rush into the room. He turns from the counter to see you, flushed and embarrassed?

“Hey, darling—”

“Why did Penelope ask me how it’s like to have my own Christian Grey?”

“What?” Spencer puts his mug down to turn his full attention on you.

“She barged into my office, asking me what kind of BDSM we’re into!” you devolve into a sort of whisper-yell, eyes shifting as to check if there were other people around. The two of you were alone in the area.

“Why would she ask that?”

“I don’t know? Something about you researching BDSM for me?”

Spencer shuts his eyes in realization, “JJ.”

“JJ? What’s she got to do with this?”

“A week ago, on the jet home from San Francisco. I was reading 50 Shades of Grey.”

You take a pause, “You read 50 Shades? I thought you said it was complete nonsense?”

“My opinion hasn’t changed on that. But I overheard you and Garcia giggling over the movie’s actor… I wanted to see what it was all about.” He tries to be nonchalant with what he’s saying. You completely melt into a puddle.

“Oh, Spence. That is the cutest and sweetest thing that has ever happened to me.”

Spencer blushes red at the comment. All these years together, and you never fail to make him feel so lovestruck and bashful.

He clears a throat, “The BDSM in the book is so atrocious. Have you read it? Or are you only interested in the movie?”

“Just the movie,” you say with a grin.

“Their lack of communication is astounding. It’s completely far off from the BDSM we’re into.”

There’s a gasp behind you. You turn to see Garcia at the entryway of the kitchenette, one mug in hand, the other hand pressed against her chest.

“Oh , I knew it. Ya’ll nasty.”

“Penelope—” you start to speak. She cuts you off.

“I didn’t believe JJ at first when she said Spencer was reading 50 Shades for research. I mean, really, Spencer Reid and BDSM? Never thought to correlate those two things ever in my life,” Penelope rambles, and then mid-thought, she turns to you, “So you do have your own Christian Grey! That’s so sexy— I don’t think that’s the right word considering it’s Reid—” this earns a snort from the man watching amused, standing against the counter, “Have you recreated any scenes from the books?”

“Penelope!” you say, aghast.

“I mean, if Spencer’s using 50 Shades to spice up your sexy times then—”

Spencer begins to laugh. You turn to face him, in disbelief that he can laugh at your mortification.

“Trust me, Penelope,” he says, “we don’t need 50 Shades to spice up our sex lives.”

“Spencer!” You can’t believe the words coming out of his mouth right now. Penelope looks as if she’s hearing the greatest gossip scandal the world has ever produced.

“50 Shades is tame compared to us.”

“What?!” a third voice enters the conversation. Emily and JJ enter the kitchenette. Emily looked a bit confused, JJ looks just about ready to shit on you too.

You hide your face in your hands, trying to hide away from Spencer’s laughter. Emily, JJ, and Penelope start to bounce comments and choice words between the three of them. You hear words such as ‘unbelievable’, ‘kinky’, and the real kicker, ‘Dr. Reid will see you now’. You want to dig yourself into a hole.

Hands grip your hips, squeezing in silent comfort. Without removing your hands from your face, you mumble, “This is all your fault.” Spencer laughs once more, hands squeezing your hips one more time before he turns to pick up his coffee mug.

He moves to leave the kitchen, turning to you with a smug look on his face before he says, “Laters, baby.”

You refuse to acknowledge the three ladies descending on you like a pack of wolves.

taglist: @i-live-in-spite @khxna