#i hate the male gaze

[valentinahogdahlholm]

Manic pixie dream girl

I am not her, She who is gone with the wind, Who's lips rule the words, follow her, the movement of her hand, the rythm in her head, her thoughts beat.

Follows the beat of her heart pumping red ink instead of blood, Because I am too boring and too scared, To declare war and shake it off, with a smile on her lips, citing extensialists and other french names.

Although I know she is not true, a myth on men's lips spreading like wildfire, Lead bullets to a teenaged body.

And still I wish I could get rid of the mouth that stumbles over words, the tounge that don't have them in her grip, the voice full of false notes. Moult her skin and leave it like an old shirt in the drain by the side of the street. Throw her up with the gall, the girl who's heart was beat to a slab of meat covered in blood and gravel,

Because I am no muse, Even though I studied french and try to write something like poetry,

Not exciting enough, broken in a white shroud, a forehead wounded by thorns. I who wanted to be nymph of the wind, muse of poetry, Shaped my body after each requirement, Broke myself into parts to put them back together, All to be her, Who I can never be. Because I only have a mind for tears and a love for the written word, All her worst sides.

Because she is but a myth, spoken by men's lips, yet she gets an epos even if she only bleeds red ink. Undeniable, destined for greatness, while my words will only be lumps of ink, attempts to be worthy of the title of poetry's muse, Even though she is simply fiction. Let me be good enough to be her,

And sometimes, Sometimes I am so good that I just want to scream until the universe falls apart, The words stop being spoken and written, Discourses fall apart, their constructed walls.

But all it ends in is me looking in the mirror, at a face red from tears which will never crystalize.

//

Jag är inte hon

Hon som försvinner med vinden, 

Vars läppar behärskar orden, 

Får dem att följa henne, hennes hands rörelse, 

Och den rytm hon har i sitt huvud, hennes tankar trummar i. 

I takt med hennes hjärta som pumpar rött bläck istället för blod 

För jag är för tråkig och för rädd,

För att deklarera krig och skaka på axlarna, med ett leende på läpparna, citerandes existentialisterna och andra franska namn.

Egentligen vet jag att hon inte är sann, en myt formad av en mans läppar som spridit sig som en vild eld, 

Blykulor avfyrade mot en tonårskropp,

Men ändå önskar jag att jag kunde bli av med den mun som snubblar över orden, tungan som inte greppar dem, stämman som klingar falsk, ömsa hennes skinn och lämna det som en gammal tröja som slängs i rabatten vid sidan av vägen, 

Spy upp henne med gallan, flickan vars hjärta stampades tills det bara var en slab kött täckt av grus och blod, och märken från kängornas sulor och klackarnas spets.

Men jag är inte skapad av en tunga, utan av händer som i skapande stund förbannade mig, något jag bara insett först nu, 

För jag är ingen musa, 

Även om jag tog franska i skolan och jag försöker skriva något som liknar poesi, 

Så är jag inte spännande nog, i en trasig vit skrud, en panna rispad av törnar. 

Men jag vill vara som vindens nymf, poesins musa, 

För jag har format kroppen efter varje krav, 

Brutit mig i delar, och sytt ihop dem igen, 

Allt för att bli hon,

Men det kan jag aldrig vara.

Jag har bara ett sinne för tårar och en kärlek till det skrivna ordet, 

Alla hennes värsta sidor. 

För hon är bara en myt byggd av mäns läppar, men kanske får hon då leva ett epos, även om det är rött bläck som pumpas ut från hennes hjärta.

För hon är oneklig, ämnad för storhet, medan mina ord bara blir bläckklumpar, försök att vara värdig titeln poesins musa, även om hon bara är fiktion, 

En konstruktion som fyller sitt syfte, 

Låt mig vara duktig nog att bli hon, 

Och ibland, ibland så är jag så duktig att jag vill skrika tills universum rämnar, 

Orden slutar talas och skrivas, 

Diskurserna faller samman, med deras konstruerade murar, 

Men det slutar bara med att jag stirrar i spegeln på ett ansikte rött av tårar, som aldrig kommer kristalliseras. 

[clownboymcchucklefuck]

💤Pillow Talk💤

HI GUYS IM SO SORRY FOR NOT WRITING AND THIS WONT BE VERY GOOD I THINK BUT I REALLY WANTED TO WRITE FOR ZACHARYS BIRTHDAY SO AAAAAAAA

It's a bit short but I think it'll fit. Will definitely go over it later in the future and do more edits and fixing.

Pairing: Zachary Sallows (Colored Gaze) x MC/Reader

Word count: 767 words

-Basically my take on what happened after the demo ended :) (Disclaimer that these are my headcanons and takes on Zachary and therefore not Canon.)

TW: Stalking, Zachary being Zachary and all that jazz, yandere/obsessive themes, he's british :/

"....It was really nice meeting you, Zach."

"Mhm, I hope to see you again, [MC]. Take care!"

The words echoed in his mind as he watched your figure slowly faded away as you hurried back to your apartment after you had waved at him.

He stood there for a few moments, repeating the meeting over and over in his head with his hand gently pressed agaisnt his chin in thought before he slowly started to walk the same path you had gone.

He knew the path very well by now, having already followed you multiple times before without you noticing...

Well, besides the times where he would subtly make his presence known. Just a step on a tree branch here and there or a loud stomp to see that scared look on your face that always got him going.

As he walked, his hands gently came up to glide agaisnt the brick wall of the outside of your apartment building, feeling the hard and gritty material underneath his smooth and slender fingers as he stared ahead, his mind was only on one thing right now and that was getting to your window.

As he got closer to your bedroom window he took note of the lights being turned off.

Of course, you would already be asleep from your long day at work. He pressed his back agaisnt the brick wall, a sly smile coming across his lips as he glanced through your window.

It was perfect. His bright blue eyes automatically focused in on your still form on the bed underneath the purple blankets.

He stood there for a few minutes, just watching the way your chest rise and fell but there was only so many things a man could see from such a distance.

He meticulously moved forward after surveying his surroundings and making sure there was nothing around to confirm there was nobody around.

Moving the bushes aside, he knelt down to the handle of your window however while being very careful to not damage the flowers on them at all. He didn't want them to lose their beauty after all.

It took a few minutes of fiddling and forcing before he managed to get the window to slide open from the outside. He pushed up the golden rim of his glasses before he slowly climbed inside the window, his eyes focused on you as the almost somewhat glowed eerily in the darkness of the bedroom.

He walked slowly and carefully to the foot of your bed, taking in the smell of the bedroom and the surroundings as he had many times before. His dress shoes made tiny clicks agaisnt the floor as he walked but nothing that would awaken you from your beauty sleep.

He glanced over your bed and his head tilted to the head slightly as his eyes landed on the bat plushie on it. There was nothing wrong with it just....it was so out of place...Shouldn't it maybe...be to the side? Sitting up? Organized and tidy.

He didn't want anything that would make you more suspicious and paranoid than you already were but the nagging feeling of this simple imperfection wouldn't leave him alone.

It was getting stronger and more intense until he couldn't take it anymore and he finally grabbed the plushie from the bed.

His footsteps were quick yet quiet as he moved it from the side of your bed to beside you on the other pillow you had laying beside you.

Now with everything perfect, well, as much as he could right now. Once he finally had you he would make sure that everything truly was perfect.

Zachary stood over your sleeping form, letting his fingers carefully feel through the silky soft strands of your hair, watching as they fell through the gaps of his fingers. He could just watch this forever.

But he knew he couldn't. As much as he hated having to wait, as much as he wanted you to just immediately jump into his arms and maybe some part of him would be fixed-

He had to be patient.

His smile was still soft on his face despite the current acts he was doing, as if nothing about what he was doing was wrong and all was well. He slowly started walking away from your, making a quick stop by your dresser and grabbing an article of clothing before he slipped out the same way he came in.

He glanced back before he closed the room, a soft chuckle leaving his mouth before he spoke.

"Sweet dreams, love. We'll meet again soon."

_____________//

Zachary belongs to @clrdgaze

[morallygay]

“Blackwashing” goes in the same box as “the female gaze” and “transandrophobia” for terms that are coined as a parallel equivalent to an existing term but miss that the core aspect of their counterpart (whitewashing, the male gaze, and transmisogyny) is a power imbalance. Hegemony. Oppression. The original terms are critiques of these (racism, more specifically colorism and antiblackness; misogyny; transphobia x misogyny). They are not equivalent and can only work in one direction.

[naehilisms]

Does anyone know of a discord server for jjk fans that isn’t centered around the hypermasculine part of the fandom that calls megumi bumgumi and sukuna fraudkuna and focuses on powerscaling (Reddit)

I need a discord that will match my unhinged stsg energy. Thx

[p1nkgl1tterpr1ncess]

[andreaheartscats]

male gaze Ellie makes me wanna die.

[posallys]

no the way you’re so right about not trusting the writers with sally’s character…

the interaction she had w grover outside of chb was so strange and out of character. like what she said to percy was cute and made me emotional but what she said to grover was so weird and icky and i was also not a fan. r*ck truly cannot write women and it was so obvious in this

My thing is like. She was perfect in the books! She was right there!! Literally you have the gospel at your fingertips and you fucked it up how on earth????? "My mother has never raised her voice" etc etc "in a tone she'd never used before" ....how are you going to have her talk to gabe like that (i don't even want to get into it)....how are you GOING TO HAVE HER BASICALLY YELLING AT SOMEONE SHE SEES A CHILD TO PROTECT HER CHILD WHEN SHE KNOWS THATS NOT HOW ANY OF THIS WORKS????? like my brother in christ you wrote the book you literally wrote it i know you have a copy if it all you had to do was have it open on the table when writing the script like HUH

[dramarants]

Wanting more homoeroticism in the tension between the show’s leads as the narrative introduces greater intimacy and higher stakes between them, especially in a landscape that lacks queer representation who isn’t a villain or dies within one or two episodes, but also recognizing that core values/motivation for these characters lie in their relationships with one of two major female characters in an on screen sausage fest where the only other woman is a morally reprehensible femme fatale and erasing and/or vilifying female leads in favor of conventionally attractive males is a common practice observed in fandoms that’s rooted in misogyny and justified under the guise of rejecting heteronormativity, thinly veiled double standards, or claiming the woman is simply not interesting enough and not wanting to bolster that mindset

[raisedbythetv89]

just saw someone saying “buffy has a lot of faith in her in seasons 1 & 2” and I’m like um… NO buffy has a lot of BUFFY in her in seasons 1 and 2 and then they CHANGED HER COMPLETELY when they introduced Faith!!!!?????

Buffy was ALWAYS the rebel slayer who didn’t follow the rules and got into trouble - FUCKED THE SOUL OUT OF A VAMPIRE AND HAS DIED FOR CHRIST SAKE and lived on her own in LA for several months supporting herself and escaped a hell dimension and they fucking changed her into a goodie goody who dresses like a church mouse in order for her to actually contrast enough with faith when those changes make zero fucking sense given everything she’s been through and everything they established about her in the first two seasons!!!

God how the fuck can you attribute characteristics of the main character to a character who hasn’t even shown up yet. That is just the dumbest interpretation I’ve ever fucking seen. I hate season three for so many reasons but the main one is what they did to Buffy’s character in order to make the faith storyline as “her shadow self” make any sense.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again it would have been so much better and made wayyyyyyyyyy more sense if Buffy had become the “bad slayer” after helpless and they had kept kendra to continue to contrast buffy as the “good” aka rule following, council obeying slayer

[valentinahogdahlholm]

But men lately <<<<// Men män på sistone <<<:

I hate men who's voices have never dried in darker notes depth, I hate men who have never felt their body formed by the movement of a tounge, I hate men because they are never scared to see their mirror image in someone elses eye, Stuck forever, Camera obscura.

And they never hear their words fall to the groun lik a needle, Carving them in stone, and carry them from Sinai mountain to declare, charm.

Carved in stone, written in letters and absorbed by skin and mind.

And that may be what I hate most, when I see the remnants of ink on my skin I never saw before, again and again in an eternal process, "I support your Messiah complex, it is basically feminism", Words echo over stairways, Qualified by the air sucked from lungs, Chest compressions over and over again, A life but for, For a halo of thorns on your head, crown on his. An eternal kliché back again in every story: Unspoken meaning, binding together words to a story, never verbalised.

Nothing like we thought, From jewelery crowning skin, Bending our heads, And we can never escape, bevause there are two discoursive opportunitis and noone passes the Bechtel test with alone dimensions. Oilpaints without shadows or lights, Flat on paper. And all (hot) guys should study sociology, Yet I cannot stand the ones that do, Hearing their voices echo like an obviousness through the lecturehall over female silence, Do you not understand a thing?

//

Jag hatar män vars stämma aldrig dränkts i mörkare toners djup,

Jag hatar män som aldrig känt sin kropp formas med en tungas rörelse,

Och jag hatar män för att de aldrig är rädda att se sin spegelbild i glaskroppen av mina ögon,

Fast där för evigt,

En camera obscura.

Och aldrig hör de sina ord falla till marken som en knappnål,

De hugger dem på stentavlor och bär dem ned från Sinai berg för att kungöra, hänföra.

De huggs i sten, skrivs i breven och absorberas av huden och sinnet.

Det är kanske det jag hatar mest, när jag ser bläckrester på min hud som jag aldrig sätt förut, om och om igen i en evig process.

”Jag supportar ditt Messiaskomplex, det är basically feminism”,

Orden ekar över trapphallen,

Och späds av luften som sugs ur lungorna,

Hjärt-och-lungräddning om och om igen.

Ett liv utom

För en törnekrans placerad på kitt huvud som blir en krona på hans,

En evig kliché som återkommer i varje berättelse: 
En underförstått mening som biunder samman orden till en sammanhängande historia, men aldrig verbaliseras.

Och inget blev som vi tänkt,

Från smycken som pryder vår hud,

Böjde våra huvuden

Och vi kan aldrig fly, för det finns bara två diskursiva möjligheter och ingen klarar Bechteltestet med ensamma dimensioner,

Ett lager oljefärg utan några skuggor eller ljusdagarar,

Platt på pappret.

Och alla (snygga) killar borde plugga sociologi,

Men jag kan inte tolerera de som gör det,

Höra deras röster eka som en självklarhet i gradängssalen medan de kvinnliga tystnad,

Fattar du ingenting?

[clownboymcchucklefuck]

*casually leaks Zachary's whole route.*

Zachary belongs to @clrdgaze as always.

[rpfisfine]

i don't understand how ppl can say "he was written by a woman" "she was written by a man" abt actual real human ppl

[transmandayoung]

the twink penis experience

[barnbridges]

do you ever think about how Marion's got relatively 0 mentions and yet gets shifting characterization (that even contradicts itself within 3 sentences) and seems solely based off ill intent or judgement from the classics students, but we ignore that because... it's so small and the book already is drippinging with elitism and the male gaze of our narrator and his friends, we don't have time for background girls that are concerned for their boyfriend.

[sleepknoot]

Radfems and cishet men who think women only do nail extensions for male approval are funny as fuck. At the very least, most men don't really care what a woman's nails look like. At the most, some men are whiny and annoying about women having long, blinged out nails and will bitch about it being "disgusting".

I promise you, women who get xxxlong Hello Kitty themed junk nails aren't doing it for the male gaze lmfao.

[gayemoji]

for how bad killing eve got the books are infinitely worse.