#i just. i was thinking about how a lot of the poetry i associate with augustin is like

[skrunksthatwunk]

ive started a brainstorming doc for the kaiji koi-koi fic and a large large amount of it is just trying to figure out what works about kaiji and how i can innovate without diverging too much from the tone or themes etc. anyway ive been thinking about how the modifications fkmt makes to the games in kaiji function (i.e. minefield mahjong, restricted rps, one poker, etc), and how they each tie into key traits/feelings of playing to original versions. minefield mahjong centers and intensifies the feeling of waiting on a crucial tile while trying not to leave too much of a trail, one poker leans heavily into the bluffing via raising/calling elements of poker, and rrps sort of flips rps' main issue(?) on its head by removing its arbitrariness (while preserving at first the illusion of arbitrariness), and thus making it like.. something you can win via strategy and not just luck. ANYWAY i think ive figured out the key thread to pull for koi-koi and im very excited about that

[hyperlexichypatia]

I've seen basically two response arguments to Kennedy's slurs about autistic people being unable to pay taxes, have a job, play baseball, go on a date, write a poem, or use the toilet.

Both the responses are good and necessary, but I think they're incomplete. The two response arguments are essentially: 1. "That's not true, there are plenty of autistic people who have jobs and go on dates and play baseball," and 2. (largely in response to 1.) "Autistic people deserve acceptance and dignity even if they can't pay taxes or write poetry or use the toilet; people's value isn't determined by their abilities or productivity."

And, again, both of these responses are true and good and necessary. But what I'm not seeing people talk about enough is why Kennedy listed those specific skills, and what he's trying to imply with them. Because, see, when people are reduced to a dehumanized stereotype, "Not everyone is like that dehumanized stereotype" isn't sufficient, and neither is "Even people who are like that dehumanized stereotype deserve respect." The problem is the dehumanization. So let's look at the list of things we supposedly can't do, which Kennedy is using to conjure an image of "Inhuman Unthinking Blob."

Having a job. This is the big one. In American culture, your value, your personhood, is solely dependent on Your Job. Are you a valuable cog in the capitalist machine, or are you a cheap cog in the capitalist machine, or are you so worthless you're not even in the capitalist machine, and therefore have no reason to be alive? So it's good and necessary and important to spell out "A person doesn't have to have a job to be a person with dignity and rights." But there's a larger question out there, which is: What, exactly, constitutes "a job"? Yes, absolutely, everyone should have dignity and rights (and material needs like guaranteed housing, food, and consensual healthcare). But also, most disabled people, including ""severely"" disabled people, can and do perform productive labor benefiting their communities. It's just often labor that capitalist society doesn't classify as "a job," like caregiving, studying, or making art. It's important to say that people shouldn't need "a job" in order to deserve rights or resources. It's also important to point out that disabled people have been doing labor this whole time, just without the dignity, rights, or pay associated with "a job." In a socialist utopia where everyone had their material needs guaranteed, labor would still be done, and a lot of it would still be done by disabled people. That's important. Disabled people's contributions to society matter. And erasing that is something ableists do on purpose -- excluding the labor done by disabled people from the category of "job" is integral to excluding disabled people from the category of "productive" and thus the category "worthy of life."

Paying taxes. This is the most transparently ridiculous one, because absolutely everybody in the U.S. pays taxes. Poor people pay taxes (too much). Rich people pay taxes (nowhere near enough). Undocumented immigrants pay taxes. You buy a Snickers? It's priced $1.79 but you pay $1.92. That's a tax. You live somewhere? You're paying property taxes. You rent your home? How do you think your landlord pays their property taxes? From your rent. You're paying property taxes. You have a crappy underpaid minimum wage job? You're paying FICA. Everybody pays taxes. What Kennedy probably means to imply is "They're too poor to owe federal income taxes." Politicians love pretending that "taxes" means "federal income taxes" so they can claim to "lower taxes" while shifting the tax burden somewhere else (cf. Trump's attempt to claim that tariffs aren't taxes). And. And also. There's another subtle implication in there, that I see a lot from parents and ableists. Because of the deep intersection of ableism and classism, Kennedy is implying "They're too poor to owe federal income taxes" (therefore they're inferior) but also "They're not smart enough to do something complicated like file a tax return." When ableists talk about disabled people who "can't take care of themselves" or specifically "can't pay their bills" or "can't pay taxes," they're intentionally trying to conflate an economic state (having enough money to pay bills/taxes) with a cognitive ability (having the skills/executive function to manage money, budget, pay bills on time, or file a tax return). Kennedy probably doesn't file his own tax return either. I'm sure he has an accountant for that. Presumed-neurotypical people are allowed to do that. The world is full of rich people who lack executive function or money-management skills, whose wealth insulates them from the consequences of that, because they can either afford to just lose money, or they can afford to hire someone to handle it for them. The world is also full of poor people for whom one missed payment has ruined them. The world is also full of disabled people for whom one missed payment has gotten them declared mentally incompetent, institutionalized, or placed under guardianship -- by abled family members who probably hire an accountant to manage their own money. Again, all this is deliberate. Kennedy and other ableists/classists/eugenicsts are intentionally trying to conflate "lacks money," "lacks money management abilities/skills," and "lacks General Intelligence" as one more-or-less interchangeable phenomenon (Note: If you've read this far and haven't figured out my angle yet: There is no such thing as "General Intelligence" and the very concept is harmful).

Write a poem. Again, this is deliberately ambiguous wording -- pretty much anyone can write a poem, including people who can't write or speak. Have you ever expressed an idea in which the words you used had an additional meaning on top of their literal meaning? Boom, you can write a poem. Maybe not a good one. But Kennedy didn't say that autistic people's poetry is bad -- plenty of neurotypical people's poetry is bad too, after all. There is a somewhat positive stereotype floating around that neurodivergent people are creative. We may be tragic, burdens on society, our parents' heartbreak, worthless, stupid, subhuman, but at least we're creative. Probably due to being more animal-like, "closer to nature." And neurobigots like Kennedy absolutely hate this stereotype. No matter how much dehumanization the "positive" stereotype is rooted in, we cannot have any positive attributes at all. They must never let us forget that we have no redeeming value whatsoever. We must be rendered as completely lacking in thought, feelings, expression, and creation. I'm seeing some echos of 18th century racism, too -- a common belief among 18th century white Europeans was that even if non-Europeans were superficially clever, they could produce no "higher culture," no great art or poetry or literature, because they were intrinsically a lower tier of human. This seems to be the root of Kennedy's implication -- not that autistic people "can't" write poetry (anyone can), or that autistic people are bad at writing poetry (most beginners are), but that an autistic person's creative output cannot constitute true poetry, true "high culture," because it comes from an inferior mind.

Play baseball. This is an especially slippery one, because like writing poetry, it's a learned skill with gradations of skill level, not an intrinsic ability that someone does or doesn't have. Most autistic people aren't pro-level baseball players, but neither are most allistic people. And again, Kennedy didn't say "Autistic people are bad at baseball." He said that we would never play baseball. "Has ever played or will ever play baseball" is such a ridiculously low bar that even I can meet it. Technically speaking, I can play baseball. I have played baseball, in school gym class. I know how! You sit there minding your business until it's your turn to stand up, and then someone hands you a bat, and then someone throws a ball, and you're supposed to try to hit the ball with the bat, and in theory, after you fail three times, you're supposed to be allowed to sit back down again and go back to imagining wild self-insert fanfic, but the coach gives you "extra tries" out of pity, so you have to humiliate yourself with five or six attempts instead of three. Yeah. I can play baseball. So what's Kennedy going for with this one? Baseball in the U.S. is associated with two things: American identity, and idyllic midcentury childhood. If autistic people can't participate in America's Pastime, can we really even be Americans? Do we really count as citizens? I don't think Kennedy is personally, ideologically all that committed to xenophobia himself; he's just hitched his wagon to a deeply xenophobic administration because they indulge his medical conspiracy theories. But he knows how to align his goals to the administration's. He knows that his boss is deeply committed to narrowing and restricting who counts as "an American," who's not really part of "our culture," who's not really a part of baseball and hot dogs and the Fourth of July, if you know what I mean. Okay, okay. Maybe I'm reaching with this one. But I'm definitely not reaching with the other association he's going for: Idyllic Midcentury Childhood. All kids play baseball. By which I mean, all boys play baseball. I'm not sure Kennedy knows that girls can play it too, or that he cares. The point is, baseball is part of childhood, and autistic people are never children. We don't play, we don't learn, we don't go through developmental stages, we're just forever Mindless Blobs. That's why things that would be considered cruelty if done to neurotypical children aren't cruelty when they're done to us. We're not really children. We never become adults, either -- how can we, if we don't go through childhood first? You can tell we're subhuman because we don't go through the universal experiences of Real People Life.

Go on a date. Okay. This one. This is the one where I get actively angry at the well-meaning, "inclusive" responses. "Just because an autistic person has high support needs and can't do XYZ doesn't mean --" no. Stop right there. There is no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date. There is no impairment or disability that prevents someone from dating. There are people -- autistic and otherwise, disabled and otherwise -- who for whatever reason, choose not to pursue dating. Maybe they're aromantic, maybe they're loners, maybe they have religious objections, maybe dating just isn't something they're interested in. Fine. That's their choice. But there is no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date. There is no such thing as a disability that renders people incapable of romantic relationships. There is no such fucking thing as being "too disabled" or "too severe" or "too profound" or "too high support needs" to have a romantic relationship if two or more people want one. That is not a thing that exists. That is a thing ableists made up. There is no such thing as an autistic person who "can't" go on a date. There are autistic people who aren't allowed to go on dates, because their family or caregivers control them, infantilize them, restrict their freedoms, or treat them as mindless blobs. But all disabled people (yes, all) can pursue romantic relationships. All disabled people (yes, all) deserve the human right to pursue romantic relationships if they choose to. With other disabled people. With abled people. With whomever. And yeah, dating doesn't necessarily have to be romantic or sexual, but let me be perfectly clear -- disabled people, autistic people, "high support needs" autistic people have a right to have sex, too. A multiply disabled autistic person who needs 24/7 assistance deserves the absolute, unreserved right to have wild, kinky, balls-to-the-wall, whole-chicken sex with the entire starting lineup of the Detroit Lions, if xe so chooses to, and if said Lions are on board. We should not accept the premise that there is any such thing as a disabled person who "can't" go on a date.

Use a toilet without assistance. This is the Kennedy playbook trump card, but unlike some of the other claims, this one is actually true. There's no such thing as a disabled person who "can't" date, but yes, there are in fact plenty of disabled people, including autistic people, who need help with using the toilet. So what's Kennedy going for here? He's trying to evoke two things: Disgust and infantilization. We have a visceral disgust around excretory functions. Needing to eliminate waste reminds us that we're animals made of meat, not the higher intellectual beings we pretend to be. Everyone poops. So we do it in private, we describe it with euphemisms, and if someone needs help with it, well, they're not keeping up their end of the social compact to collectively pretend we're not animals with animal bodily functions. So people who need assistance with the waste process are disgusting, subhuman, a violation of imagined purity. And of course, they're babies. Babies wear diapers. Babies need help using the toilet. So an older child or adult who needs diapers or toileting help is basically a big baby. We have entire election cycles centered on "Which candidate has incontinence issues?" as a proxy for "Which candidate is a big baby unfit to lead?" as though someone's bladder leakage has any bearing on their wisdom or policy positions. And of course, since people who need help with toileting Are Babies, we're meant to assume that they can't do any of those other things, either. They can't even use the toilet, let alone write poetry or go on a date. In reality, plenty of people who need toileting help are writing poetry and going on dates. One of the biggest misconceptions that holds disabled people back from education or, in some cases, from basic communication, is this myth of linear "developmental stages" -- that if someone isn't "smart enough" to master an "easier/earlier" skill, then they can't possibly be "smart enough" to master a completely unrelated skill that some abled person thinks of as "more advanced." This is literally the primary barrier to communication access for speech-disabled people, and the reason nonspeaking people who type to communicate are so often disbelieved -- if someone isn't "smart enough" to master a "baby skill" like talking, they can't possibly be "smart enough" to read and write! Nevermind that for many speech disabled people, reading and writing are much easier than speaking. And if someone isn't "smart enough" to use the toilet unassisted, they can't possibly learn any advanced topics at all, because they must the "mind of a baby." (The only people with the minds of babies are babies. A 50 year old with incontinence has the mind of a 50 year old.)

So. To sum up: Kennedy is intentionally evoking the concept of autistic people as The Abject Unthinking, and neither "Plenty of autistic people can do those things he says we can't do" nor "Disabled people deserve respect and dignity even if they can't do those things" fully addresses the dehumanization he's trying to conjure. Maybe I'm just jaded, too, about calls for "respect and dignity" for disabled people that don't challenge the concept of The Abject Unthinking. I see behavioral therapists, institution staff, and parents pursuing adult guardianship talking about "respect and dignity." I see articles about how to restrain and forcibly drug people with "respect and dignity." Ableists literally murder disabled people in cold blood in the name of "respect and dignity." I don't know what "respect and dignity" means to these people, but it's sure not synonymous with "bodily autonomy" or "civil rights." By this point, I consider "respect and dignity" about as meaningful as "thoughts and prayers." All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, express themselves. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, make their own decisions about their own bodies. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, participate in their communities. All disabled people can, and deserve the right to, pursue relationships with other people of their choice.

[breelandwalker]

I'm starting to question how much the "old" pagan costumes and festivities were indeed about fertility, sex, etc.

Ronald Hutton claims that there is no evidence in history that the maypole was saw as a phallic symbol, for example. And there are other possible meanings. But you usually just read in books as a matter of fact that it was a phalic representation and the dance around was about fertility etc

I recently read the witche's bible because I was curious about traditional wicca rituals and there is suuch a high focus on how every single costume or holiday was about fertility and sex that honestly it makes me wonder, how much it was indeed about those things and how much is just the interpretation of modern people like Gardner making it about those things

You're hitting the nail on the head without even realizing it, Anon.

SO much of what we think we know about "old pagan customs" comes from books written by Victorian-era occultists. And if there is one thing to be said about Victorian-era occultists, it was that they were horny as FUCK. (And the Edwardians weren't any better.)

These people went around rubber-stamping FERTILITY in big red letters on anything to do with goddesses or springtime or even the most passing reference to pregnancy, childbirth, midwifery, or babies. Literally any excuse for ritual nudity or a sacred orgy. And no, that is not satire. Or a euphemism.

The other thing that can be said about Victorian-era occultists is that quite a lot of them were history buffs and very prolific writers. (If you look at the roster of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn and their regular guests, it reads like a Who's Who of the writers of fantastical fiction and poetry at the time.) So the result of that is a whole lot of literature about folklore and "ancient pagan customs" written by people who were filtering what little historical information they had at the time through the lens of their own opinions and those of their colleagues.

(It's worth noting that that "lens" often consisted quite heavily of free-associated ideas not supported by history or things they completely pulled out of their own asses. Leland's "Aradia" is a good example of the "Ancient Sacred Text Given To Me By A Real Witch Who Totally Exists And I Definitely Didn't Write This Myself And Make Up This Claim For Clout" genre.)

Quite unsurprisingly, a lot of these beliefs got absorbed into the roots of the modern witchcraft movement a few decades later, since those were the popular resources available at the time and the same generally-prevailing opinions and biases were still present. So this started WELL before Gardner and his coven were on the scene. They just picked up the thread.

And as we all know, once there's a generation or so of removal from the founding beliefs of a movement, people tend to take the older texts as gospel, regardless of how flawed they might be.

See Also: We Still Have To Talk About The Witch-Cult Hypothesis Because Margaret Murray Wrote The Encyclopedia Britannica Entry On Witchcraft And It Wasn't Updated Until The 1960s.

See Also: We Still Have To Explain The Difference Between Historical Fiction And The Historical Record Because Of The White Goddess And The Mists Of Avalon.

See Also: We Still Have To Talk About The Burning Times Myth Because Raymond Buckland Made That Stupid Fucking Documentary.

See Also: Why The Hell Is Anyone Still Recommending Silver Ravenwolf.

Anyway, the short answer is that yes, your impression is correct, and I'm glad you're reading Hutton and forming that practical context for the witchcraft/pagan literature and media that you encounter.

Keep honing that bullshit detector and best of luck!

[adarkrainbow]

You might have noticed my posts have recently been centered around a same specific... wave? Circle? I don't know how to call this exactly, and I am not an expert of it all...

But there is this wave of authors and editors, a sort of loose group focusing on retelling, rewriting and twisting fairytales and folktales for a modern, adult audience, and that had their era from the 70s to the 90s. Angela Carter, Terri Windling and Tanith Lee, and all the others that came along (Jane Yolen, Charles de Lint, Neil Gaiman, Robin McKinley, Steven Brust)...

And what is truly fascinating, at least for me, is that this is where the thing we call today the "Grimmification" seems to come from. (At least within the English-speaking world)

Today the process of "Grmmification" (as TV Tropes named it) has earned a certain reputation for being a cheap and gratuitous way of offering in a superficial way an edgy, pseudo-anti-conformism, with just a desire to oppose Disney and not true appreciation and care for the original fairytales. You know, a reputation that was gathered by big blockbusters like "Snow White and the Huntsman" or "Hansel and Gretel Witch Hunters", or by B-horror movies (the Asylum's fairytale horrors), or by massive pin-up comic publications (Grimm Fairy Tales)... Of course there's a lot of "grimmified" pieces that nuance this a lot by showing a lot of poetry, beauty and art in their harshness, trauma and gore (Pan's Labyrinth, Changeling the Lost) or by just being embraced by the Internet (Gretel and Hansel, Neverafter, The Grimm Variations). But still, you know what I am talking about. We are in an era re-embracing the romance, the humor and the epic within fairytales, a time of re-evaluating positively classic Disney movies and other childhood productions, a much more colorful, optimistic, un-edgy time compared to the boom of dark, edgy, "grimmification" of the 2000s and 2010s. Ended is the generation of McFarlane's Twisted Fairy Tales or of DeviantArt's Twisted Disney Princesses (sorry I forgot who the creator of this series was).

And so, in front of the... I'll say "soft backlash" against the Grimmification process, it is quite fascinating for me to see that the root of this unofficial movement, or the first modern manifestation of this "phenomenon" was the previously described wave/circle of authors. This women-driven wave of authors (Carter, Lee, Windling and Datlow clearly led the dance) who were the first to truly bring all of what we associate with "Grimmification" (making things darker, more violent, the tales more frightening or bloody, bringing Gothic horror or harsh realism to fairytales, sliding in more sexuality and eroticism, openly standing in opposition and rejection of Disney's pop culture version of fairytales)... But out of a movement that...

... stood up for the perpetuation of the art of fairytales ("modern fairytales")

... defended feminist principles (putting the female characters at the heart of the story, highlighting the trauma they had to go through, deconstructing harmful fairytale stereotypes and cliches for women)

... embraced the idea of fairytale as a product for adults (they were the leaders of complexifying and deepening fairytales into a true "fairytale fantasy")

... stood up with queerness (part of the eroticism and sexuality of these tales was also to include lesbianism, homosexuality and a much more open and honest look at sexuality)

... and encouraged research and exploration of the history of fairytales (exploration of Perrault's text versus Disney ; presentation of the alternate versions and uncensored versions of the Grimm's stories) and of other cultural folktales than those traditionally known (exploration of Asian, Russian, African tales...).

And all of these things, that are still thinks people are looking for today in fairytale retellings, came hand in hand with the blood and the gore, the vile and the rape, the dark and the disturbing. The "Grimmification".

I am not at all an expert on this time era or those publications, mind you - I am just beginning to dig into all this, and I speak from the point of view of a casual enjoyer and a researcher of "vintage" books and half-forgotten fictions. I am here doing broad generalizations and I might be dead wrong. But it is just the feeling I got - that the "Grimmification" process took root within these things... Somewhere in the dark psycho-sexual and folk-horror Gothic of the 70s, was the beginning of our modern "Grimmification".

[henry-fox-biggest-stan]

Details I noticed on my rewatch

These scenes are parallels. We have the poets sitting more or less in the same positions, and Todd where Neil sat, and Charlie and Neil smoking vs Charlie and Todd smoking (hourglass plot save me…). Someone tries to blow the smoke away when they hear someone coming, and the one that comes is Mr Perry/Cameron (who their anger is directed towards. In the first scene, Charlie is angry at Mr Perry, in the second scene, Charlie is angry at Cameron). Charlie just standing there, not doing anything vs Charlie fighting with Cameron and throwing a punch. Todd just standing there not talking (not to Mr Perry, not to the poets) vs Todd talking. The beginning vs the end.

(They also sit like that while in the cave)

The many sexual references. References to boobs, to sex, to virgins, to naked bodies, one that I interpret as a dick reference, and even non sexual scenes like kissing. In a time period such as the 50s where sexuality was pretty conservative, and specially in Welton which was somehow even more conservative and sexless (it was an all-boys school, so no heterosexual sex, and obviously gay sex was forbidden), this many mentions are rare. Sexuality was very restricted, and yet the poets talk about it freely, and so does mr keating. Another way he’s liberating them, just like taking them out of class to teach (taking them out of closed spaces) this sex references are also a way of helping them be free.

The “tradition” banner being visible in this scene (and the clock, and white and black pictures of students I think, reminiscent of Keating’s first lesson)

The term “madman” appears before, Todd didn’t just pull it out of thin air. While they’re in the cave telling stories, they mention a madman.

“the face of a demented madman” -Neil

“and there's a madman on the-” -Cameron

It makes me think than Todd saw Walt Whitman, associated him to poetry, and when thinking of poetry that night at the cave was what first came to him. That’s so cute ngl.

Since we talked about Neil/Todd and Charlie smoking just now, Charlie smokes a lot, Neil smokes since the first scene (it’s only him and Charlie the ones smoking). I’m talking cigarette, not pipe. Neil’s mom is a smoker (one thing he has in common with her, alongside not really having a voice when his dad is concerned. Neil and his mom…), but so is Todd’s! A little similarity with Neil’s parents and Todd’s, quiet smoker mom and dad that does the aggressive talking.

Oh and these scenes right here? Parallels

Can you see in the second picture how there are two gaps? One for Neil and one for Cameron? :)

How do I know these scenes are parallels? Or, well, contrasts? I mean, the positions are the same, and they’re wearing the same coats (you can’t see it in the photos but just trust me). Except one is at night and the other at morning, one is happy and the other isn’t. In one they��re on the right in the other on the left, dark blue and light blue. And in both they’re sneaking out of their rooms.

[classicslesbianopinions]

I feel like a heartless killjoy asking this, and I love the romance as much as the next person, but I was wondering if there’s anything (literally anything, essays poetry books whatever) on how Eurydice is always so associated with Orpheus, or even anything about just her. He gets to do so much on his own at least and she only seems to have this one story.

i wrote a paper on orpheus last year and the simple answer is just that eurydice is basically a footnote in his story. orpheus as a character has existed for centuries and been a part of countless myths by the time any wife enters the equation, and (in the extant sources) she isn't given the name "eurydice" until pretty late. so orpheus exists independent of the "orpheus and eurydice" myth but eurydice does not, and the story with eurydice probably came into play relatively late. it's just that the story with eurydice is what modern audiences have grabbed on to, at least in part because ovid wrote about it in the metamorphoses, but i think it also has an emotional appeal and fits a narrative structure that is familiar/desirable to many of us in the present day, which isn't true of every ancient greek or roman story.

as far as reading material about this, i'm sure we have followers who can recommend better than i, but i will link you to the poetry my girlfriend @softinvasions wrote last year about this: "[ and ]" and "Eurydice to Orpheus." i might also pester it to reply to this post because i know it has a lot more to say about eurydice specifically. you might also like sarah ruhl's play Eurydice, which is similarly concerned with eurydice as a character and her agency.

and you're not a heartless killjoy, nor are you the first person to ask! the romance falls a bit flat once you realize it's a romance between a fully realized character/hero and a character who literally only exists to be inserted into this specific story.

[livixbobbiex]

The use of the twilight aesthetic in Ace Attorney

This somehow started with me thinking about Miles and Phoenix being THE star crossed lovers, but now here we are with a whole essay (with actual citations. You're welcome.). TLDR: Miles and Phoenix pined so hard for each other that their spirits have broken through the veil of space and time. One of my favourite additions to the Ace Attorney 'lore' made by the anime comes in Season 2, Episode 6. The episode is Miles Edgeworth centric, showing how he first 'became a Von Karma' (in a sense), and Phoenix's attempts to contact him when they were both in middle school. The ending of the episode in particular has always stuck out to me.

Here we have Miles thinking about Phoenix, who had 'helped him' earlier by delivering a message to him through a radio show song dedication. The song ultimately gave Miles the evidence he needed to win an argument with a woman at the mall (and saved a dog in the process). As we can see, the scene is set at dusk, or twilight.

Although this is also a really beautiful image, 'twilight' is an incredibly profound and intentional choice.

Now, I will spare you an entire ramble about wabi-sabi as a Japanese aesthetic (you can use here as a starting point though). Basically all you need to know is that it is arguably the most important cultural aesthetic, and means something like the beauty of transience and imperfection.

Twilight, or tasokare (誰そ彼), can be seen through these transient aesthetics. It's something you see a lot in traditional waka poetry, but permeates today through literature and cinema.

"About dusk, we can say that the main feeling is that of the colour of darkness and night. However, twilight is not merely the colour of darkness nor the colour night. That said it is not only the colour of day, nor the colour of light…The world that exists in the instant where it turns from day into night, the boundary of the instant where it enters darkness from light, isn’t there that the twilight world is? …Entering darkness from light, night from day, during that instant there is a world with a peculiar essence and subtle colours, which is what I think is the twilight world."

Izumi Kyouka, 1996. Tasogare no Aji. In Izumi Kyouka, ed. Tomomi Matsumura, 243-44. Tokyo: Center for the Japanese books.

Basically, twilight is all about that transient moment where boundaries drop. Relatedly, there's a supernatural association with it, like the crossing of a veil where the restrictions of 'space' and 'time' can be lifted. Most famously, in terms of modern example of this, take the scene in Your Name.

Admittedly, Your Name is where I was able to find the most analysis. To be fair, it really is a beautiful scene.

In classical Japanese tasokare does not simply indicate the dusk as an in-between period transitioning from day to night, but also a hybrid moment in which visible entities become invisible and hidden presences momentarily reveal themselves. The anxiety of the encounters that take place during this liminal time is emphasised by the expression of surprise - "who is that!" (dare da, are ha 誰だ、あれは) - which constitutes the origin of this term. Therefore, in kimi no na ha, the transfers between the human spirits take place at night during the oneiric activities of the protagonists, but the possibility of a real encounter is limited to the ephemeral time of dusk.

Andrea Castiglioni, 2019. From Your Name to Shin-Gojira. In Spirits and Animism in Contemporary Japan: The Invisible Empire, ed. Fabio Rambelli, 173.

"Tasokare” means “Who’s in the gloom,” and it’s where the word “gloaming” comes from. You know what “the gloaming” is, right? It’s twilight, when it’s neither day nor night. When the world blurs and you might encounter something not quite human.

Your Name, 2016.

Now, I don't believe you can call this a trope that's exclusively romantic. Though, clearly, it lends itself to that. It certainly conjures the feeling of profound pining, with just a moment of relief (after all, stories of tragic love stories between manifestations of the day and night are common across the entire planet).

Anyway, I hope this explains why, in the Ace Attorney anime, Phoenix turns around and stares, bewildered, as if he actually heard Miles call out to him despite their physical distance.

Funnily enough, they're even under the polaris star, which is also a theme in Your Name. But anyway, yes indeed I think this scene can be taken as Miles and Phoenix pining so hard for each other that their spirits have broken through the veil of space and time.

It's also just really beautiful symbolism, even if it's not 'canon' to the games. Considering the anime also gave them the whole 'gold chains of fate' aesthetic.

[gay-dorito-dust]

Whoa you like Nuada too? I can’t pass this up! Can you please write Nuada with a reader who is cheerful individual? I like grumpy x sunshine ships 😆 I feel he wouldn’t know how to go about it and more confused when he falls for reader (Gender neutral pls)

Of course I like Nuada anon! How could I not?! I’d be ashamed of myself if I didn’t.🦦 also this is long as shit. I got carried away…no I won’t apologise.

Nuada first heard of you whilst being held captive at the BRPD through Nuala, whom had met you earlier that day through your mutual love of literature. And according to his sister you were a bright, bubbly, happy and warm individual who made her feel welcomed and included the moment she came to the Bureau; even going so far as to gift her with a poetry book with a cerulean blue cover.

It was actually a personal possession of yours but due to never haven gotten to read it, you had decided that it would serve Nuala far better than it ever did you. Nuala naturally refused to accept it but, you were persistent that she’d have it as you would rather have it be well loved and read than sitting on a cold, lonely shelf collecting dust.

‘They’re such a delight to talk to brother.’ Nuala began, clutching the poetry book with the cerulean cover close to her chest as though it were a priceless treasure, which to her it very much was.

‘They’re human dear sister, this persona they’ve put on is probably a trick, an illusions of sorts to lure you into a false sense of security.’ Nuada warns, not as trusting towards humanity as Nuala was. Giving? Warm? Welcoming? These were traits that the elven prince would’ve never associated with humans. Ever. It just sounded too far fetched to think that such a kindhearted and selfless person could ever have existed. Nuada only knew humanity for their glutinous greed, so such simple acts of kindness as gifting someone a poetry book, would do very little to change his perspective on the entirety of mankind.

Nuala frowns. ‘You haven’t even met them and yet you refuse to give them a fair chance. I understand your grievances towards humans but all I ask of you, dear brother, is that you learn to trust one, even if that one happens to be y/n.’ Nuala pleaded with Nuada, holding out on a spark of hope that with your influence, Nuada’s heart will no longer be veiled in shadows. Nuala truly believed that if anyone could come close to doing just that, it would be you, she just knew it.

Nuada merely scoffs at the notion his sister has in you being the one to unveil his heart of the pain and suffering. While he may have once bended to his twins every plea, this was one he could not find himself willingly doing so and the look upon Nuala’s face told him that she was very much made aware of that fact and wordlessly left.

Nuada wouldn’t get to experience you in your entirety until the BRPD decided that Nuada was trusted to head out on missions as your partner, they too also had some inclination that your bright and sweet persona would not only run off on Nuada but also soften his resolve against all of humanity; an request that would take a lot out of you.

‘You must be Prince Nuada. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name I’ve heard so much about.’ You said, barely able to contain your excitement at finally being given a partner. Sure the stories you’ve heard about the elven prince were…less then enlightening, framing him as an angry and vengeful being incapable of change, but the ones you’ve heard from Nuala however painted Nuada as a somewhat tragic figure.

‘I can’t remember the last time I saw my brother smile, if he even smiled at all.’ Nuala would say as a saddened look came across her face before she looked over at you when you abruptly grabbed her hand, face set in serious determination.

‘I’ll try and get him to smile more for you.’ You said.

‘It’s an impossible feat.’ Nuala counters but you weren’t having any of it.

‘Then I’ll just keep trying until I do, no matter how long that may take.’ You replied, staying strong to your conviction.

‘Why. Why would you go out of your way to do something for someone you barely even know?’ Nuala asked, feeling your strength, determination, heart and more theough just holding your hand alone. It was overwhelming of hoe bright you were that Nuala swore she would soon be blinded by your light alone, however it was because of your power of will that gave her hope, hope that you’ll might just do what she had long since believed to be impossible.

You merely smiled and relied with, ‘because even the strongest of us deserve to smile and like you said, you don’t remember the last time that you’ve seen your brother smile. So leave that to me and I promise to have Nuada smiling soon.’

And you always meant your promises. Always. What you wasn’t expecting was how handsome Nuada actually was. No one had bothered to tell you prior that your partner was a true beauty. A beauty with a piercing set of golden eyes and desirably soft, silky hair that fell past his shoulders in a platinum blonde waterfall. He held an air about him that made you both nervous and excited, however you had to quickly remind yourself that he wasn’t going to warm up to you nearly as quickly as you’d hoped.

Nuada on the other hand was immediately blindsided by your personality. It was so vibrant, colourful and filled to the brim with radiant life that he was certain that he looked rather dull and lifeless in comparison. It also looked as though his sister was right about many things in regard to your character, however that didn’t warrant Nuada to immediately start trusting you like she had wished for, after all you were still a human at the end of the day.

‘I’m-‘

‘Y/n. I’m aware.’ Nuada cuts you off abruptly before you could properly introduce yourself.

You made a face. ‘How-‘

‘My sister speaks highly of you,’ you began to smile at that but Nuada wasn’t finished, ‘but I have yet to witness what’s so special about you.’ You merely shrugged and answered with your entire chest. ‘You will soon enough. I promised your sister to get you to smile after all.’ Nuada’s brows raised at this but before he could get you to elaborate on that further, it was already time to head out for your first mission as a partnership.

Your first mission had turned out to be an avid success that it would only stand to reason to keep sending you and Nuada out as a team. You worked extremely well together and your fighting styles complement each others, while also concealing any weak spots that the other may have almost seamlessly. You and Nuada both complement missions in quick and swift succession. That was out in the field however, the way you acted towards Nuada afterwards made him feel a weird warmth within his chest.

You would often note of how Nuada fell a good distance behind everyone else after group missions, and so you would then fall to the back of the group also -not wanting him to be alone- before naturally falling into step with him, all the while still adhering to giving him his own personal space. You didn’t force a conversation with him like he expected you to, but instead allowed a calming silence to befall the pair of you as you headed home; Which was something he was oddly grateful to you for as he wasn’t that much of a conversationalist after battle.

However he couldn’t help but wonder why you were putting in so much effort into him. He hated your kind and yet you’ve treated him with nothing but respect and kindness. You didn’t push his boundaries, you didn’t overstay your welcome but even long after you left his side, Nauda could still feel your lingering warmth within every breeze that passed him by. Nuada just didn’t get why you were so hellbent on your promise to his sister, was it truly that important for you to help fulfil Nuala’s wish? And if so, what was it that she had said at the time for you that solidified your need to see it through film the end?

While Nuada had to admit, it was quite admirable that you kept to your word but some days he couldn’t help but question whether if that was your sole reason for sticking so close to him. Whether or not he’d ever confront you about it was his to debate upon later, but as for now he decided against it; His pride would never allow him to indulge in such thoughts and ideations that weren’t remotely relevant to hating humans.

Nuada had also noticed that after being your partner for a while, he had developed a need to protect you from all harm. At first he thought that if you died on a mission, the fault would fall onto him and he would be put back into confinement until further notice, but he soon learned that wasn’t actually the case; Far from it actually that he soon found himself sitting across from his sister to discuss about it.

‘Sounds like you have grown fond of y/n, brother.’ Nuala had said, smiling as she relishes in the times that Nuada obviously expressed interest in you without knowing it, but luckily that’s when the link they share makes situations like these a whole lot more simpler to navigate.

‘I merely find them more tolerable than others.’ Nuada defends, crossing his arms over his chest, still heavily in denial that anything he felt for you could possibly go beyond the realms of being cordial with one another. Yet that didn’t explain the sting in his chest whenever you were as joyful and excitable with anyone who wasn’t him, almost as though he wanted you to only beam that bright for him and him only.

‘Then why do you feel at peace with them near? Has their light finally unveiled your heart?’ Nuala asked and this time Nuada stayed silent for a longer period of time as he was beginning to realise that yes, you did infect have unveiled his heart from the shadows he cast over it. What scared him however was how you had done it. You constantly showed him patience during the times where he needed it, showed him understanding when he talked about his feelings, something he hadn’t done as much before meeting you; you even showed him solidarity for the times where he needed someone to stand by his side.

You had changed Nuada’s way of life in small but meaningful ways that there came a day where he starts to hate the fact that he had come this far without the gentle guidance of your voice for him to follow unto a better path. However despite acknowledging that you play a pivotal part in his current life, doesn’t mean that made Nuada’s understanding of his feelings any clearer than they were when he first discovered them.

‘They make me feel things I’d never thought I’d feel again Nuala.’ He began, knowing that whatever he said to his sister would be kept solely between them. ‘I’ve been lost admits my need for revenge that even the fluttering in my chest, or the warmth that reaches my cheeks feels foreign to me now.’ He adds, taking the time to remember the first time he felt something towards you that wasn’t explicit hatred for being human. ‘It feels as though I’m experiencing them for the first time and I can’t help but become addicted of sorts, that whenever they smile at me-‘

‘You hope that they smile at you like that forever.’ Nuala interrupts her brother softly, already quite well acquainted either that feeling from the times she felt Nuada’s emotions through the link.

‘Yes.’ Nuada said in an almost whisper. ‘I wish to be the reason y/n smiles as much as they are mine.’ Nuala couldn’t help but express her happiness for this new stage of Nuada’s life, all she wanted was for her brother to be happy and she was made even happier at the fact that it was you who made him the happiest he’s ever felt in a long time.

‘We shall get through this together brother.’ Nuala reassured, feeling her brothers’ still prevalent confusion, making Nuada look back at her, ‘then soon everything else will fall into place. You just have to put faith in the hope that y/n will be there to catch you when you fall.’

Nuada was still confused about everything but with hi sisters help, he hopes to surely get a clearer understanding of what he was currently feeling before confronting you about it.

[verdantwyrm]

i really love the comparison of curly to being a dog. he’s got a lot of the characteristics we associate with dogs and i think it’s interesting to think about how he’s docile with jimmy because jimmy trained him like how an owner trains their dog, but more confident in his role with the others. not that curly was a complete pushover but when jimmy did his emotional manipulation and abuse, curly is still loyal like a dog.

Dude don't even get me started on canine poetry and Curly. Dogs are loyal, they stay forever even if you don't want them to. I've mentioned previously before on how Jimcurly to me is extremely toxic and extremely onesided but to go into it any further, Curly is just a dog in that.

The hand that beats, also feeds. Curly loves unapologetically, and you can especially see this how much and how hard he tries to see the good in Jimmy and how long it takes for him to come to the conclusion that he's not who Curly thinks he is. Truly a situation of him thinking that Jimmy is just troubled, angry and frustrated but has a good heart at the end of it all, not understanding and not willing to accept thats false because it would be accepting the truth that he is beyond being anything good.

The lines "We're defined by our past, but not slaves to it" is greatly shown in how he feels about Jimmy, that he works hard to make sure that he isn't a slave to it. The job, the future, the companionship, the loyalty.

Dogs don't know bad from good, they only know their owner. And Jimmy has trained him well, to not bark, to not whine, to stay and to heel. Thats why he's so docile, why he doesn't immediately try to argue or fight he just fawns, he pleases and tries his best to mediate every situation, to de escalate because he truly wants to see the good in Jimmy. Its a real thing abusers do, they chip away at their victims confidence, their personality, their whole livelihood to make them completely dependent on the abuser so they can forever hold that above them, to stop them from ever running away.

Jimmy has most certainly twisted Curly into these vines and mess of feeling like he needs Jimmy in some way, he knows he's an ass he even tells Anya this, so what could possibly be keeping him so attatched to someone that does not deserve it? That deserves that kindness the least?

I feel like Curly and Jimmy's relationship was good at one point, maybe a long time ago Jimmy showed real promise, real love, real kindness, and then something just... changed, and Curly has been desperately trying to see that again, he knows its there, he just can't see it.

[meirimerens]

Do you have recommendations on reading sth more experimental? 👀

fair warning a lot of the experimental shit i've read i've read in art school context so i have no idea if the classmates who made it published it somewhere + it is kinda hard to recommend experimental shit by virtue of it being experimental so i'm going to rec stuff that i consider like. "mainstream" experimental as in yeah an author wrote this. also the "actually unconventional" bar is pretty low starting from the stuff i was moaning about so well also ☝ love pushing upon people books i've read + i know for a fact i've pushed them before lollll so

mainstream as it goes: House of Leaves by Mark Z. Danielewski. like you know?

unconventional in essence through shape. it is one book of ergodic literature and if you dig into ergodic literature you will find unconventionality that's kinda Its Thing. i understand by standards for "unconventional prose/pacing" get pretty high once you've put your eyes on this but like. i got more conventional in shape that still are unconventional in prose of pacing.

still mainstream-ish? if you're French? she was an author well-known and important in her time and place (she's still alive it's just that she was important as an author of the literary feminist wave in the 60s & 70s), Anankè by Hélène Cixous. i've read it in french and have no idea how it fares in english (or translated otherwise) but if you want unconventional pacing and prose you're getting unconventional pacing and prose. it is full to the brim with homonyms (hence why idk how it fares in english), of subject-to-attribute uncouplings (a verb conjugated for "I", a subject as "she"), words straight up made the fuck up through homonymy (like "téléfaune", from téléphone and faune [faun/satyr]). some sentences are 2 full pages long, reading them feels like trying to ride out an engine startle. it has no plot, it is about an internal trip, a self-actualization from girl to woman, or from chaperoned woman to free woman. you don't read this for plot, you read this to feel like you've traveled with your head through the open window, and for the imagery, god the imagery i find so very great. unlikely associations, quite sensorial. it's a short book but i've needed multiple tries to get through it because, as i've said, the long sentences feel like trying to hold onto a hand-cranked engine start. the pacing feels cyclical, like an endless stop and start, expressing the internal conflict. you have to hold onto it.

mainstream-ish again if you're french, Le Corps Lesbien [The Lesbian Body] by Monique Wittig. it's one of those where if you're not on that crazy shit you're gonna get yucked, it is endlessly violent in grotesque ways that make you horribly aware of all the anatomical details of your body. it alternates horrible and grotesque neverending violence with horrible and grotesque neverending tenderness (& sometimes neverending tenderness in/through grotesque violence or vice-versa). another one of those where the english translation cannot truly do it justice because french has "elles [female plural they]" and "ils [male plural they]" and wittig goes out of her way to never use ils [french has "masculine as default" grammatical gender]. in the french text, "je" (subject "I") is cleaved in twain: "j/e". In english, they've just italicized it; i think they'd have done well to use something like the polish ł to figure it. anyways barely a plot either. cyclical destruction in grotesque ways that both are anatomical impossible and yet horrifyingly anatomically-anchored. re:the violence in this i'm sure if you've read like. "extreme horror" novels by whichever male author of the month it is you probably won't flinch but i've read this after a long streak of nonfiction & poetry.

i think a bit less mainstream because i've been told about it in art school lol after i had partaken in a collective performance and my stuff had for base a poem about a roadkill that neverendingly dies then is reborn only to die again anyways Jaguar Harmonics by Anne Waldman. closer to poems than literature-in-prose (even if it is in prose instead of rhyme) it is about/from the yagé (ayahuasca) ritual by waldman, poet & buddhist & activist who brings in the text a lot of subjects and themes (the anthropocene, colonization, environmental and feminist concerns,...). it is poetry, so technicallyyyyyyy unconventional by nature as far as literature goes, + spoken poetry at that, i know for a fact there is a bandcamp where you can listen to the poems spoken/sung.

what else. since i'm on the topic of poetry check out Guillaume Apollinaire's Calligrammes i guess

you'll hate me for bringing it up again + it's poetry also againnnn LOL but The Oresteia as transladaptated by Tony Harrison. i find it's great english it uses words that brother i've never seen used. and i loooooove a made-up compound word the people know this about me. let's liven this shit up let's make words up!

French has l'Oulipo ("Ouvroir de littérature potentielle", "opener of potential literature") with representatives such as Raymond Queneau who made a book of poems that looks like this

OH AND HE MADE "EXERCISES DE STYLE" which i quite like also (99 times the same story written with different stylistic/literary constraints)

[prettysweetprettysweet]

i really do feel genuine queerness radiating from the narrative in Cherry Magic Thailand in a way that it might not have in other people's hands. the thing that truly roped me in from the beginning was how Karan's love for Achi, beyond the inherent goodness of it, also created a vast spectrum of negative emotion for Karan that most queer people could immediately recognize and sympathize with. specifically, how uniquely queer it is to have your love and attraction to someone be so closely married to terror at the thought of disgusting them that the concept and feeling of love is tainted for you in ways that it isn't for straight people.

i was hooked by episode 2 when Karan recognized that putting himself out there in even the smallest ways was causing Achi discomfort, and he resolved to just...settle. i can settle, i can settle, i don't need more than what we have right now. i won't make him any more uncomfortable than I already have. i'm being selfish, i need to retreat and keep a distance so he doesn't have to think about me when he doesn't want to, so he doesn't have to dwell on bad things.

he is so concerned with the thoughts and feelings of others that he constantly allows it to branch into self-denigration in relation to his queerness. like after he and Achi were forced to have physical contact by the party game, he's so preoccupied with Achi's fear and discomfort that one of the first things he says to him is "they shouldn't have made us play that game. what guy would be okay with kissing another guy?" and its like...Karan, you would! you would love to kiss the guy right next you and thats okay! to me it seemed like he was giving Achi a pass in case he was disgusted, like 'its okay if [my] queerness grossed you out just now.'

and as @poetry-protest-pornography pointed out here, Karan's confession of love is weighed down by so much negative emotion. right out of the gate, Karan is apologizing for having these types of thoughts and feelings about Achi, taking Achi's willingness over the past few weeks to get to know and be known by Karan as an act of charity, and apologizing for betraying his trust by wanting more. like, you gave me a good thing and i perverted it and made it bad. i'm so sorry.

this resonates with me so much because his internal dialogue was so similar to mine when i came out, but in the context of my relationship with my mother. in the months after i came out to her, every time i saw her i was looking for clues in her body language that confirmed my agonizing suspicion that she was disgusted by me. every time i saw her, my first thought would be 'she's thinking about it and she's disgusted with me, i'm gross to her.' and when i saw her minutely reacting to parts of my own body language that were too butch and masculine (that i hadn't really spent a lot of time thinking about prior to coming out), i vowed to start being more conscious of how i spoke and presented so that i wouldn't make her uncomfortable because i felt so, so bad about forcing her to associate me, her child, with something perverted and gross. Karan's instinct to be ashamed, apologetic, and remorseful for being himself and feeling his feelings makes this show so, so gay for me.

[canary-prince]

Poems I Associate With Various Yellowjackets Characters

I'd make edits of them if I was motivated enough. I can't find one I like for Mari and I have a single stanza I like for Akilah but wish something more substantial and had showed up for her. If you guys are into poetry, feel free to make suggestions.

Shauna: deeply-rooted, Spider Perry, full text

mugwort and the water boils red willow and the sickle harvests pennyroyal and the sun dries juniper and the tea steeps wild carrot drink deep, drink up silphium we will hold you through it black cohosh until you rise from your bed of blood Natalie: To The Young Who Want To Die, Gwendolyn Brooks, full text

Sit down. Inhale. Exhale. The gun will wait. The lake will wait. The tall gall in the small seductive vial will wait will wait: will wait a week: will wait through April. You do not have to die this certain day. Death will abide, will pamper your postponement. I assure you death will wait. Death has a lot of time. Death can attend to you tomorrow. Or next week. Death is just down the street; is most obliging neighbor; can meet you any moment.

You need not die today. Stay here–through pout or pain or peskyness. Stay here. See what the news is going to be tomorrow.

Graves grow no green that you can use. Remember, green’s your color. You are Spring.

Lottie: Crepuscule, e.e. cummings, full text with modified formatting

I will wade out until my thighs are steeped in burn- ing flowers I will take the sun in my mouth and leap into the ripe air with closed eyes to dash against darkness in the sleeping curves of my body Shall enter fingers of smooth mastery with chasteness of sea-girls Will I complete the mystery of my flesh I will rise after a thousand years lipping flowers and set my teeth in the silver of the moon

Misty: Me Up At Does, e.e. cummings, full text

Me up at does

out of the floor quietly Stare

a poisoned mouse

still who alive

is asking What have i done that

You wouldn’t have

Laura Lee: Queen of Swords , Judy Grahn, brief quote

She is veiled You can only see part of her at a time-- a crescent, like the moon. Even so, she is so luminious she hurts the eyes.

Van: Death Comes To Me Again, Dorianne Laux, full text

Death comes to me again, a girl in a cotton slip, barefoot, giggling. It’s not so terrible she tells me, not like you think, all darkness and silence. There are windchimes and the smell of lemons, some days it rains, but more often the air is dry and sweet. I sit beneath the staircase built from hair and bone and listen to the voices of the living. I like it, she says, shaking the dust from her hair, especially when they fight, and when they sing.

Taissa: Let July Be July, Morgan Harper Nichols, full text

Let July be July

Let August be August

And let yourself be

Even in the uncertainty

You don’t have to fix everything

You don’t have to solve everything

And you can still find peace and grow

In the wild of changing things

Akilah: Tea, Leila Chatti, single stanza

I can barely get out of bed. So I make tea. I stand at the window while I wait. My feet are cold and the radio plays its little sounds. I do the small thing I know how to do to care for myself. I am trying to notice joy which means survive. I do this all day, and then the next.

Jackie: a girl is asked about herself for the first time, Spencer Wollan, full text

i was at the dinner table the first time someone told me, “God does not exist.” I haven’t had a dream since then.

sometimes, i imagine dying like it’s a good magic trick—sometimes, i imagine dying and it feels like driving home

often, i want to pry open the mouth of a lion cut out her tongue, and wait for her to fight back with just teeth

what i mean to say, is i’m nothing to scream about. nothing to shine a light on or give a pair of hands to.

what i mean to say, is i’m just another way out of the ocean.

what i mean to say, is i drove home from my own baptism fully believing i had just narrowly escaped drowning.

Mari:

Travis: If I Never See You Again, Charles Bukowski, full text with intact formatting

If I never see you again I will always carry you inside outside

on my fingertips and at brain edges

and in centers centers of what I am of what remains

Melissa: Her Kind, Anne Sexton, full text with slightly modified formatting

I have gone out, a possessed witch, haunting the black air, braver at night; dreaming evil, I have done my hitch over the plain houses, light by light: lonely thing, twelve-fingered, out of mind. A woman like that is not a woman, quite. I have been her kind. I have found the warm caves in the woods, filled them with skillets, carvings, shelves,    closets, silks, innumerable goods; fixed the suppers for the worms and the elves:    whining, rearranging the disaligned. A woman like that is misunderstood. I have been her kind. I have ridden in your cart, driver, waved my nude arms at villages going by,    learning the last bright routes, survivor    where your flames still bite my thigh and my ribs crack where your wheels wind.    A woman like that is not ashamed to die.    I have been her kind.

Callie: The Girl With Antlers, Ansel Elkins, First stanza

I tore myself out of my own mother's womb. There was no other way to arrive in this world. A terrified midwife named me Monster and left me in the pine woods with only the moon. My mother's blood dripped from my treed head.

In a dream, my mother came to me and said if I was to survive I must find joy within my own wild self.

When I awoke I was alone in solitude's blue woods.

[xenomutt]

Nezha 2 Thoughts

Phenomenal. Full of my absolute favorite thing: fucked up Daoists with no sense of right and wrong. Truly horrifying alchemy cauldron. A personal nightmare brought to life.

Some minor grammatical errors in the English captions, but a shocking amount of effort must have gone into translating the poetry. I am curious how the poems were translated in other languages.

It probably took me too long to realize what Deero (Lùtóng 鹿童) and Crana (Hètóng 鹤童) were. Those types of name translations read as gibberish to me rather than puns, at least at first. Like when White Snake and Green Snake were translated as Blanca and Verta in their animated movie.

Ao Bing basically gets a talk from his dad as if he's a Disney princess being told to follow one's own heart, and he immediately runs back to Nezha.

Shen Gongbao as the surprise fandom woobie? Good for him.

Lots of wank to complain about in the (English speaking) fandom. Maybe 50% of the content associated with Nezha on tumblr and twitter is wank.

I wonder what it is like to watch such a movie without any background knowledge of Buddhism, Daoism, and Confucianism. Perhaps it seems like loyalties change rapidly and without clear reasons? Invading armies seemingly get forgiven offscreen, bad guys become good guys without any "redemption arc," that sort of thing. All very common and explainable in Chinese pop culture, but you won't get any of that context from just this movie. I think this explains some, but not most, of the fandom wank.

For instance, social media seems really hung up on people being of different species. Plenty of this seems to be for shipping reasons, and why Nezha and Ao Bing should or should not be together. I just don't think Chinese pop culture gives a shit? In fact, one of the ideas of the movie is a person being a person regardless of their lineage. Nezha and Ao Bing literally talk about changing their destinies and being allowed to find their own way.

Anyway, great movie. If you watched it with someone willing to pause and explain things every thirty seconds, you'd get an amazingly broad view of Chinese mythology and storytelling.

[rueharley]

"I know you write about me"~

Rafe Cameron x Poet Reader

- Pretty fluffy (not gonna lie), where Reader ends up reading her poetry that she wrote for Rafe after some convincing, + reader over thinking and being nervous (we can all relate)

I sat comfortably on Rafes' sofa, sinking into the pillows like a cloud.

Rafe was busy entertaining his friends that were over, leading to me deciding to be peaceful in another room.

Rafe regularly popped into the room, ensuring I didn't feel lonely or left out, which made me feel so cared for by the subtle gesture.

I held a notebook in my hand and was using a pen to scribble away passionately. It was no secret that I was attached to this notebook, I have been writing since I was a child, but the contents were a complete mystery to anyone besides me.

The paper holds thoughts, rhymes, and poems, from almost everything that exists or passes in my mind.

But, I'll admit, I write about Rafe quite a lot.

To be a poet and not write about the thing that I love most would be absurd.

I aknowledge the darker aspects of my mind in these meaningless sentences, I think it would be dangerous to ignore, especially since I harboured a lot.

However, since Rafe, the pages have become happier, and I use the word 'love' with almost only positive associations.

I heard the door handle rattle and Rafe came into the room, quickly attempting to respect the quiet atmosphere of the room.

He came up to me and sat besides me on the sofa.

"they're finally gone, now I can be with you" he mumbled looking to me as I sat besides him.

"how was everyone?" I asked, closing my notebook and holding it in my hands.

"they're fine.."he says, his gaze flickered to the notebook that I held. I felt all his attention on the notebook as he was clearly about to bring it up.

"what you writing 'bout, baby?" he asked, his gaze locking with mine.

I felt a tiny jolt of adrenaline come into my body, he would think I was a creep if I said 'you', presuming he didn't already know, I couldn't take that risk.

"oh.. Nothing.." I say, putting the notebook to the other side of me, trying to get it away from the direct center of attention.

"nothing?" he repeated, his tone slightly mocking, slightly teasing.

I nodded, watching his expression. His next move being the decider if he's going to drop it or not.

"so what you put most of your time into is 'nothing', s'that right, hm?" he says, an amused smirk on his perfect lips.

"well..." I say, my defense unwillingly faltering.

"'well' what, baby?" he was quick to pick me up, "Why's it such a secret?" his tone soft.

His gaze studied my nervous features while I attempted to organise my response.

"you can trust me, baby.. You can tell me this stuff, you know that," his gaze melting into mine.

"I know that.."i reply simply, genuinely.

Of course I thought about showing him, I wanted him to see, just not at the price of it all going wrong. What if he didn't like it. What if it was bad. I was too nervous to take that risk.

His hand sliding onto my thigh captured my focus. His hand squeezing just enough to keep my attention on him. I kept my gaze on his hand and how it looked as he held my thigh.

"I know you write about me," he says a moment later, I could hear a teasing smirk playing on his words.

A slight blush met my cheeks and I smile slightly.

"you do?" I ask, looking back to his face, trying to keep my tone neutral.

"hm, it's pretty obvious actually," he says, his tone playful.

"well, can you blame me?" I say, attempting to remain above water here. Keeping my tone as far from nervous as possible.

"blame you? No, baby. I like that you write about me.. That you think about me and nothing else.."

His hand met with my chin and he encouraged my gaze to be on his. He looked into my eyes before continuing to speak.

"that when we're apart you spend your time writing your lil' poems about me.. I just wish I could see some, to see how you explain that you love me.." his voice drops to a quiet murmer, his gaze intensifies as it clouds with a sense of desire.

"but they'd sound stupid," I say, becoming very tempted to let him see them.

"nothing you write about how you love me could sound 'stupid', baby, it's impossible," he say, his voice still that low murmer.

"well.. I guess I could show you one.." I say in a delicate state of speech.

A smile slowly crept onto his face "yeah, baby?"

I smiled slightly from how his face lightened with his smile. I nodded, agreeing that I will show him one.

"only if you want to though.. Can't have my baby doing things she's uncomfortable with," he spoke, his tone holding a hint of mockery but I knew he was being genuine simultaneously.

"I'll show you one.. Just promise to be nice about it," I say reaching for my notebook as his hold on my chin drops.

"I'm always nice, baby," he says, deserving a look of disbelief from me.

He noticed my look, a playful expression gracing his face once again, "mostly, unless you ask for me not to be," he replied with a hint of sultry to his tone.

I smiled at his response as I flicked through the pages of my notebook looking for the perfect one.

Rafes eyes were watching me with a predatory accuracy. Focused on watching me flick through each page in silence.

I continued to look through the recognisable writing. I could quickly distinguish each ones and I was quickly running out of options. I huffed.

"hm, there not a perfect one? What you gonna do, baby?" he teased, I felt his gaze on me, my focus on the notebooks disappointing pages.

"this one.." I then say in a deciding tone.

His line if focus travelled to the page I was pointing to, "this one it is then," he says, looking back at my slightly apprehensive demeanour.

"cmon, read it to me then," he says, his voice still playful but with a hint of gentleness in aknowledgment to my hesitation.

"I didn't know I had to read it as well," I say, my shoulders slumping as I looked to him.

"You're already here, just read it, baby," he says, his hand squeezing my thigh affectionately.

I let out a heavy exhale, before looking back at the daunting black ink on the lined paper of my notebook. It felt so meaningless, so.. Foreign. Like if I read it out loud it wasn't mine anymore, it was a sound, a shared feeling, a look into my soul. A piece of me I managed to communicate to no one, but here I was sharing it.

No one likes to aknowledge the intimacy of their souls. No one likes to admit when another person has such great power of your heart, and no one likes to realise that they have no reason to be scared to share it with who they love.

Rafe kissed my forehead, muttering something like "You're over thinking it, baby, s'just me,"

I quickly shook the thoughts from my mind. I had no reason to be nervous. Rafe loves me more than anything, more than anyone ever has.

I cleared my throat, holding the notebook in front of me. A smile crept onto my lips.

"it had no intention of being read out," I say as if to justify my writing before he even heard it.

"baby, just.. Go on," he says gesturing to the notebook. He ran his hand up and down my thigh slightly firmer as if to pull me back to my senses.

I inhaled as I began to read the words out loud:

"I love your existence incessantly and morbidly, without fear or thought.

Give me your soul of purity and love, give me your soul of passion and hate. Let me love the sides of your soul that you believe you must hide, let me love the sides of your soul that you want me to touch.

Let your secrets shape my reality and let my reactions become comfort. Allow me to consume your existence and follow your heart in blind trance and your stubborn avoidance.

Allow me to trust that you'll catch me when your arms feel heavy and you're miles away from me. I'll do the same with hands of habit and a heart full of love.

I want to recognise your words, I want to recognise your pain. I'll use your body as my canvas to paint why I love you.

I want you to wait for me at the end of the day. Call me a fool through my problems, dumb for my actions, and a poet for my words, and when I touch you, call me an artist. I paint you with kisses and scandalous touch, I want you to understand it, I want to remember it.

I've been through so much destruction in my life, but I'm feel I am made for you.

"

There was a moment of silence when I finished, I looked to him for any sort of praise or dislike.

"I get dramatic when I write, quite flouncy with my words-" I say beginning to explain myself but being cut off.

Rafe leaned in and kissed my lips, holding the back of my neck with his hand.

I reciprocated the kiss, the slow, affectionate, gentle kiss. His hand ran up from my thigh to hold my waist.

"so you liked it?" I spoke between the kiss.

"hm, baby, loved it" Rafe spoke into the kiss, refusing to break the kiss.

I smiled as he continued to kiss and suck my lips. He quickly noticed, a smile meeting with his lips too.

"hm, see? Was there any point to get so damn nervous?" he spoke, his tone low with desire. He pulled away, just far away so we could look into each other's eyes.

"no, wasn't any reason to" I spoke, my tone quiet with slight guilt.

"don't ever be nervous round me, baby, never," he says, his words hanging in the air.

"okay,"

[buckandbobbyweek]

FAQ

What is Buck and Bobby week?

This is a week dedicated to Buck and Bobby from 911 and celebrating their father-son relationship. While a popular relationship, it's not a relationship that people often write about. So, with this event, we make sure there are plenty of new fic for us Buck & Bobby lovers!

What is the schedule?

Today (January 4th) the poll to vote for which month to fo Buck & Bobby week went up and goes for 7 days.

After there will be a poll to determine which week it will be, also running for 7 days.

Once we have a date, I will start working on a form where you can submit prompts and share this. This will be open for around a month. Less depending on how much time is left until the chosen date.

Once the form is closed, I will make a new form where you can vote for your favorite prompts. In the end we need 21 word/trope prompts (example: hugs, navy seal buck, hurt/comfort) and 10 sentence prompts (example: "did you steal my hoodie?", "what do you think you're doing?", "have you eaten yet?")

Depending on how many prompts and the results of votes, there could be a third form with the winning prompts to narrow it down more.

Then I'll make a post with the winning prompts and you can start writing!

And then we'll have Buck and Bobby week :)

Are there any rules?

AI is NOT allowed. Use of AI will end with your posts removed from the AO3 collection and being blocked on Tumblr. AI is theft.

This is to celebrate the father-son relationship between Buck and Bobby, NOT romantically. Romantic fics between them will not be included or reposted.

No abuse or SA taking place between Buck and Bobby. You can for other characters, but PLEASE tag accordingly! Use warning in both the warning section and the tags. I also recommend putting these warnings in an author's note and while posting on Tumblr. These are topics a lot of people want to avoid.

If a fic includes bashing of other characters, please tag accordingly as well. And, obviously, no Buck or Bobby bashing. (It would be preferable no bashing at all, but I'm not going to forbid or restrict you from writing it if you want to.)

No stealing, duh

I can't think of anything else, I try not to limit things. If you have a suggestion, let me know.

Do I have to sign up?

Nope. You can just post when it's time. Of course it's fun to let people know you're participating, but that's completely your own choice.

Can I be anonymous?

Sure! I do have to say a lot of people avoid anonymous fics because a lot of times they're very triggering or hateful to people. But if you don't feel comfortable using a username, it's a great way to still share your work. And I'm sure plenty of people still read anonymous fics.

Do I have to do all days?

Nope. While that is the most fun, if there's only one day you have time or inspiration for, that's amazing as well. You can skip days you don't want to do. It's completely up to you.

Is it limited to fics?

It's not! You can use any form of creativity. Think of:

Art

Playlist

Video edit

Picture edit

Moodboard

Podfic

Poetry

Anything else creative you can think of.

Is there a minimum or maximum word count?

Nope. No restrictions here either. This means you can also submit snippets. Or a full on novel with 100k+ words. Every number is allowed :)

How do I get it into the AO3 collection?

The collection isn't created yet and will be around a month before the event. Once it's created you can find the option 'post to collections / challenges' right underneath 'associations'. In this you search for the name, which I'll post on here once it's created. Once your fic is posted it'll be added to the collection.

I've never posted on AO3 before and don't know how.

I'm planning on making a quick tutorial soon, either on here or on @911buddieweek in which I'll explain the meanings of each parts, like ratings and warnings and the most used meanings behind them. Keep an eye out! If you want to know before I post, you can send me a message.

I have a different question

Don't be afraid to send an ask or message! I'll try to get back to you ASAP. I don't have tumblr notifications on, but I'm chronically online so I'll hopefully see it quickly. (I do like in Europe so if you're not European we might have a different timezone. But you can send it any time you want and I'll see it when I wake up.)

I hope this is enough info! And I'm very excited :)

[maxdibert]

I’ve seen you say several times that Severus is very The Smiths-coded. I’m studying Spanish and was wondering if there’s a Spanish band you associate with him? That way it can help me study and get inspired at the same time.

Honestly, not a band but a specific singer. I mean, there are lots of Spanish songs that are very Snape-coded, but if I had to pick one artist in particular, I’d say Joaquín Sabina. I can’t think of anyone better to capture both Severus’s melancholy and his intensity. He’s pretty outdated and a lot of people in Spain see him as “dad music,” but I grew up with his songs and at the end of the day, he’s a boomer just like Severus so…

I recommend Contigo, Tan joven y tan viejo, Y sin embargo, Calle Melancolía, Quién me ha robado el mes de abril, or my favorite—which is basically the dynamic of my fic—El rocanrol de los idiotas. Sabina is very much about melancholy, about what could have been but wasn’t, and about weird people in late-night bars.

I’ll also say that his songs are very much those of a singer-songwriter who cares more about the lyrics than the music, and his lyrics are pure poetry—so it requires a more advanced knowledge of the language, because it’s basically like listening to a sung poem and you need to know how to interpret it.